Decimated: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (Taken World Book 3)

by Flint Maxwell

  “I’m gonna sleep here tonight.”

  “Okay,” he said. That was it; when it came to May and what she wanted to do or what she planned to do, there was no debating. She was right. “You can have the bed.”

  “I’ll just sleep on the floor.”

  “Me too.”

  “Funny how things change, isn’t it?”

  She went into the bathroom and closed the door. The faucet ran. By the time she was out, Tyler, his mind slightly at peace, was fast asleep on the loveseat. She covered him up with a blanket and then dozed off herself.

  18

  Goodbyes

  The next morning, a knock at the door woke Logan up. Jane lay entangled in his arms. The sheets smelled like sweat. He sat up and put a shirt on. At the door was a woman of maybe forty years old; she was olive-skinned and quite pretty. It was nice to see someone that looked as if they belonged in a civil society.

  “Morning,” she said. “Here’s your grub.” She handed a tray to Logan. On it were two covered meals.

  He lifted up one of the covers. Beneath were scrambled eggs sprinkled with cheese, a piece of buttered toast, and—Oh there is a god—three strips of bacon. His stomach grumbled. Saliva filled his mouth.

  “Thank you,” he said, and for some reason, his free hand drifted to the back pockets of the jeans he wore.

  The woman laughed. “What, you gonna tip me?”

  He looked away from her, feeling his cheeks burn with embarrassment.

  “Money ain’t good here. Ain’t good anywhere,” she said. “And ain’t that a godsend?”

  Logan chuckled.

  “Oh, there’s a note under the plate there,” the woman said.

  “For what?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just the messenger.” She leaned forward slightly and whispered, “But I think you’re being summoned by Gunner. Actually, I’d bet a good amount of money on that.” She winked and left.

  Logan closed the door. He set the tray down on the TV stand. Jane yawned in the doorway of the bedroom.

  “Is that eggs I smell?” she asked.

  Logan nodded.

  “Oh, thank God!”

  She moved across the room as fast as she’d probably ever moved in her life, a blur, and took one of the covered plates. On the couch, she dug in. The smell of the food engulfed the room. She made noises like that of a zombie digging into a corpse, but Logan hardly noticed. He was looking at the note.

  It read: ‘To the newest members of the Falls community’ at the top.

  The body of the note was pretty straight to the point: ‘You’ve been summoned to the King Suite on the topmost level of the Hive (Sheraton) to meet with Gunner. There, you will discuss how you will contribute to our society positively. The meeting is scheduled for noon.’

  Logan looked at the clock on the wall. It was a half hour until noon. He spun around. Jane was practically licking the plate; it was empty. She had done the same when they’d brought food up the night before. Dinner had been homemade pizza and a cup of pudding. Scrambled eggs, though—those were Jane’s favorite. She smiled with food still in her mouth.

  Logan cringed and said, “Ew. Manners, Jane. Manners.”

  “Sorry,” she mumbled, but then went right back to licking the plate.

  Logan sat down next to her and ate his breakfast. He licked his plate, too. Really, who cared?

  At fifteen minutes until noon, after both Jane and Logan had showered—together, to, you know…save water—they went out into the hallway. Brad was just coming out of his room. He held a note in his hand.

  “You too, huh?” he said.

  Logan nodded. “All of us, probably.”

  “I’m gonna go get the others up,” Jane said. “I know Grease is probably hungover.”

  “Did he drink?” Brad asked.

  “Most likely,” Jane answered, which was as accurate an answer as any.

  “Where’d he get booze?” Logan asked.

  Jane just shrugged and walked down the hall.

  Grease stumbled out of his room a few seconds later. He certainly looked hungover. His hair was all over the place, like a spider had settled on his head, his eyes were droopy, and his breath stank to high heaven. Jane was dragging him by the hem of his t-shirt.

  He rubbed at his temples, saying, “Oh, man. They got some potent stuff here.”

  “What the hell, Grease?” Brad said. “You got drunk last night? Why didn’t you invite me?”

  Grease shrugged. “I dunno. I was drunk, man. You can’t blame me for shit when I’m drunk.”

  Logan laughed. “Where’d you get the booze?”

  “That Irving cat. Good guy. He makes his own stuff, like moonshine. It’s—oh, man, my head.” He paused and squinted against the low light coming from the emergency bulbs overhead, which were not very bright at all. “It was pretty much straight alcohol. I was hallucinating and everything.”

  “Lovely,” Jane said, before spinning away and heading back down the hall to get Tyler and May. She knocked at May’s door, but there was no answer.

  That wasn’t surprising. Since Logan had met them, May and Tyler had seemed inseparable.

  Jane knocked on Tyler’s door, and May was the one who opened it. Two minutes later, they both came out, Tyler in the lead. There was something about the expression on his face that Logan didn’t like.

  His heart sank as he wondered what it could be.

  “You all right?” he asked.

  “Didn’t get much sleep,” Tyler said. “May’s snoring kept me up all night.”

  “Everyone’s here,” Brad said. “Let’s get going.”

  “Oh,” May said. “We aren’t going to meet that guy, are we, Tyler?”

  Tyler looked at Logan, that same uneasy expression crossing his features, like he thought the big man would be disappointed in him. He shook his head.

  “What do you mean?” Jane asked.

  “Well, May and I aren’t staying,” Tyler said.

  Grease laughed and clapped Tyler on the back. “You’re funny, man!”

  But Tyler didn’t return the laugh, or even smile.

  Logan knew he was serious. “What, why?” he asked.

  “I want to head east,” Tyler said. “Look for my family.”

  Brad said, “Dude, you know—“

  “I know,” Tyler said, nodding. “I know they’re probably dead and gone, but I’ll never sleep peacefully at night unless I know for sure.”

  Logan stepped forward, his hulking shadow engulfing the former military scientist. Tyler stood his ground. His face remained impassive. To an outsider, it might look like Logan was about to hurt Tyler, but Tyler knew better than that. They all did.

  Logan wrapped him up in a bearhug. “Okay,” he said. “If that’s what you want to do.”

  They parted.

  “It is,” Tyler said.

  Jane had turned away, a gleam of tears in her eyes. Brad was shaking his head, and Grease looked as if his hangover had worsened in the span of a few seconds.

  “And you, too, May?” Logan asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I wish you the best of luck,” he said, and he meant it, but he also knew they would need more than luck to get where they were going.

  “On foot?” Brad asked. “You’re just gonna stroll on out of here and walk however many miles to Washington D.C.?”

  “We’ll find our way,” Tyler said. “We always do.”

  Brad nodded. He stuck out his hand and they shook. “Good luck, man. We’ll miss you.”

  Then he went to May, hugged her and kissed her on one cheek. She, too, was crying.

  “Didn’t think it would be this hard,” she mumbled.

  “You don’t have to go,” Jane said. “This place is safe.” She wiped at a tear rolling down her jawline, but missed it. It fell from her chin and spotted her gray t-shirt.

  “I can’t let Tyler go alone,” May said, and just like that, Jane understood.

  The conversati
on was over; there was no longer a debate. Tyler and May would go on to Washington D.C., and Logan and the others would pray for their safety.

  “So this is it?” Logan said. “Last time we’ll see you guys, huh?”

  Tyler nodded. His face was very stern, his eyes serious.

  “If things are different in D.C., find a way to let us know,” Logan said. “I don’t know how. Radio, maybe. Hell, even a messenger pigeon, if you can find one.”

  “I will,” Tyler said, smiling. “Thank you. Thank you all.”

  He and May went on down the hallway, toward the stairs, with nothing but the clothes on their backs.

  Logan watched them go. He didn’t cry. Part of being a good leader, he thought, was knowing when to let people go…being rational and logical and to not let emotions cloud your judgment. That was exactly what he had done.

  Tyler was about fifty feet from the front gate when he heard a voice shout, “Hey, buddy!”

  He stopped and turned around. May kept going. He saw that it was Irving who’d spoken.

  Irving was standing by the entry road to the parking garage, wearing dirty coveralls with splotches of grease on the chest and knees. His hands were nearly as dark as Tyler’s. Now he jogged the distance toward them.

  “What’s up? Where you going?” he asked.

  “East,” Tyler said.

  “Nothing is east, my friend.”

  May looked uneasy, but she said, “How do you know?”

  “Well…I guess I don’t. Not for sure. Whereabouts east?”

  “D.C.,” Tyler answered.

  “Well, I do know D.C. got hit with bombs, same as Cleveland.”

  That wasn’t what Tyler had wanted to hear. Still, wasn’t that what he had expected? Yes. But part of him had thought that maybe Washington D.C. avoided the bombs. It was perhaps the most important city in the United States.

  “What, did Martha’s cooking not sit well with ya?” Irving laughed and wiped his greasy hands on a red rag that hung from his pocket.

  A couple of guys strolled by on the sidewalk, deep in conversation. They noticed Irving and gave him a wave. He waved back. Then they went on their way. From the parking garage came the sound of some sort of a power drill mingling with old rock music playing from a boombox’s speaker.

  Irving looked back at Tyler. “Yeah, that Martha, she’s a sweetheart, but she isn’t much of a cook. I’ll tell you what. I’ll get Candice to cook you up a nice lunch. She’s the second best cook I’ve had the pleasure of knowing.”

  “Who’s first?” May asked.

  “Well, honey, that’s a trick question.” He gave her a wink. “My wife, of course. God rest her soul.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry…” May said.

  Irving shook his head. “No sweat.” He nodded toward the hotel. “C’mon, I’ll go introduce you to Candice right now.”

  “No,” Tyler said, “thank you. We really should be going. Only so much daylight now.” If that’s what we’re still calling it.

  Suddenly, Irving’s eyes bugged out of his head.

  He was a small man, a few inches shorter than Tyler, who wasn’t a big fellow himself, but Irving seemed bigger. Tyler didn’t know why; maybe it was the man’s confidence. Confidence was a funny thing. It was something lacking in the world then, it seemed. Not many people he’d met had any left, except for Logan—and Devin, when he was still alive. It was hard to have confidence when the world was dark and full of ashes and unholy things.

  “You’re gonna walk?” Irving said incredulously. “You gotta be out of your mind.”

  “That’s what I told him,” May said. She made a circle with her index finger at her temple. “Totally batshit.”

  “I can’t, my friends, in good conscience, let you walk all the way to D.C.,” Irving said. He turned. “Here, follow me.”

  “Why?” Tyler said. He was starting to get a bad vibe.

  You’re just being paranoid.

  “I’m gonna give you guys a car, dummy. Now c’mon!”

  May and Tyler exchanged a glance. Irving was already heading up the sidewalk. Shrugging, May smiled.

  So they followed him back into the parking garage. The rock music bled into something heavier, with shrieking guitars and a screaming lead singer. Drills whirred. An air pump chugged on. There was two other people in the garage. One was a Mexican man with a handlebar mustache. He looked like Lee Van Cleef in The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly. The other was Blake, Irving’s son. They were both working on the large military Jeep that had brought Tyler and the others to the Falls the previous night. One of the large wheels was off, the vehicle jacked up. Blake lay under it with a small flashlight in his mouth and a sheer look of determination on his face. For a moment, Tyler had a terrible vision of the jack giving out, and the Jeep coming down on top of Blake. It would smash him into paste.

  “Damn thing’s not as fit as it used to be,” Irving said. “Every time we take it out, it seems something bad happens to it. Springs a leak, a hose disconnects, a tire loses air—you know how it goes. That’s how it is with the old cars. But, you know, some of the new cars are done for. EMP or what have you. Didn’t get all of them, thank God, and it could be worse, I guess. Anyway, when it’s time to retire this baby, I’ll feel good knowing she did her best. That’s all an owner can ever ask for.”

  The Mexican man nodded at Irving as Irving walked across the parking deck’s floor.

  “Keep working, boys,” Irving said.

  He waved Tyler and May on. He rounded the corner and went up the incline to the next level of the garage. Tyler and May weren’t far behind. Irving stopped, and they stopped right behind him.

  “Take your pick,” he said, moving his hand out like a gameshow host showing off a prize.

  Tyler’s eyes widened. There were about fifteen parking spots on this level of the garage. The entire floor was filled with cars, SUVs, and trucks, all of them from a decade long gone. He felt like they’d walked into an antique car show. He hadn’t seen this many working cars in a long time.

  “That Jeep is pretty good. High mileage, but we haven’t had a problem with it yet,” Irving said, pointing to a yellow vehicle on four big wheels. “Not much in the way of stealth, and the windows are made of that gummy plastic, so I reckon it’ll get pretty cold while you’re driving, especially going east. Don’t want to waste too much fuel using the heater. I know you probably don’t think that’s a thing, and it hardly is, but every last drop counts.”

  He pointed to a Dodge Charger next. It was beautiful, nearly in mint condition, but Tyler shook his head.

  “We’ve had our fill of Dodge Chargers,” he said, referring to the one they’d come to Ironlock in; the one the monster had compromised, causing them to crash into the gates.

  Sure, the monster would’ve probably given any car a run for its money, but better superstitious than sorry, right?

  “Fair enough. What about that Ford there?”

  Tyler walked over to it. It was a sleek, midnight black, the glossy paint shining in the low light of the garage. It looked fast.

  In the tinted windows, Tyler saw his reflection. It had been too long since he’d last studied himself. His afro was longer than it had been since he was a kid in Atlanta. He didn’t like how it looked, so he turned away from the windows as May opened the passenger’s door.

  “Looks good to me,” she said, “but at this point, I’d take a unicycle if it meant I didn’t have to walk again.”

  Irving went to a box bolted to one of the concrete support beams. He popped open number 23 and pulled out a key, then he tossed it to Tyler.

  Tyler caught it with ease.

  “All yours,” he said.

  “Really?” Tyler asked. “Won’t your leader be upset?”

  Irving shrugged. “We have so many cars, he won’t even notice it. But even if he did, I don’t think he’d care. He’s not like that. He’s a good guy.”

  “Gunner?” May said.

  “Yup. I know, I know, it’
s a tough name, but he’s a good fellow,” Irving said. “Anyway, a car’s about all I can offer you. The other supplies—food, water, medicine—that stuff is meant for the Falls’ citizens.”

  Tyler nodded. “Understood. Thank you very much.”

  “Don’t sweat it. We’re all humans, aren’t we? And in these times, us humans have to stick together, help one another out, you know?”

  May hugged him.

  This caught Irving by surprise. Judging by his face, you would’ve thought May held an electric charge within her arms.

  Slowly, he hugged her back, grinning.

  “Let me get you guys filled up, and then you can be on your way,” he said as he and May parted.

  May’s eyes shone with tears that threatened to spill over and run down her cheeks. Tyler took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze as Irving headed back down to the ground level of the garage.

  “It’s gonna be all right,” he said. “Don’t worry.”

  “I’m not worrying,” she said. “I’m happy. For the first time in a while, I’m happy. After what we saw on the highway, with those bad guys who tried to rob us and…who shot Regina, I didn’t think the human race had much hope. But this Irving guy, he’s restored my faith.”

  “Mine, too,” Tyler said. “Mine, too.”

  Irving came back with a red gas canister and filled up the Ford. “No self-serves in the Falls, my friend—and no, before you ask, I don’t take tips.” He tipped his invisible hat like a chivalrous cowboy. Then he shook Tyler’s hand again and hugged May. “Oh, before I forget…” From his pocket came a scrap of paper. “This is our broadcast frequency, so you can let us know you make it if you find a working radio in D.C.”

  Tyler took the paper.

  “A real pleasure meeting you both,” Irving said, raising a grease-stained hand. “Godspeed.”

  Two minutes later, the duo headed through the front gate. The train wreck was ahead of them, like it would be for decades. Tyler’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. The compound was growing smaller there.

  He turned up the highway entrance ramp, and he and May could see the Falls no more.

  And they never would again.