Stage 3 (Book 3): Bravo

by Stark, Ken

  “A little late for that, don't you think?” Beverly growled, dropping her fork onto an unfinished plate.

  With that, all eyes went to the two women. Out of the corner of his eye, Mason saw Mackenzie glaring daggers at Beverly, and no wonder. If there was anything more dangerous than coming between a mother bear and her cub, it was coming between this fiery little cub and the closest thing to a mother she would ever know.

  Sarah took the time to choose her words very carefully. “No, Beverly, it's not. If we can figure out what the virus is and where it came from, maybe we can find a way to beat it. If not, at least we'll have a better idea what we're dealing with.”

  “And will any of that bring my Amber back?” Beverly's voice hitched, her eyes suddenly welling with tears. “Or Albert, or Devi, or even your precious Jim Lambert? Will it put everything back to the way it was, Sarah? Huh? Will it?”

  Mason cautioned her, “Beverly, lower your voice.”

  But the woman seemed beyond caring. “Why, Mace? Are you afraid they'll hear me?”

  “Yes, I am!” he admitted, honestly. “Absolutely! Beverly, right now you are putting all of our lives in danger, including the lives of these children. So, if you have something to say, please use your inside voice.”

  “Haven't you heard, Mace?” she snorted derisively. “These aren't children. They're warriors!”

  It wasn't much, but Mason caught it. Tiny fingers slipping away from his and Sarah's and moving toward a sheathed knife strapped to a tiny hip. He reached casually across and recaptured Mackenzie's hand, but he could actually feel the girl's rage in her tight little grip. And as she squeezed his hand nearly hard enough to cut off the circulation, he wondered...

  If he let her go, which would she do... launch herself across the table like a feral cat, or excuse herself from the table, wander slowly around behind the woman, and calmly and coolly slit her throat?

  Jesus, would that sweet little girl really commit cold-blooded murder just that easily? But he already knew the answer. Of course, she would. And so would he. So would Sarah and Alejandra and Addison and Christopher and Inez. Beverly was part of this ersatz family, but no one in this new world had a blanket amnesty. Back in the old world, families disagreed. They argued, they fought, and that's where the line was drawn. But in this new world, where lives hung by the most tenuous of threads, lines blurred easily. And sometimes, the sneaky bastards had a way of disappearing altogether.

  So, what did that say about Mack, and what did it say about him, and what did it say about every single one of the others? Were they bad people because they were perfectly willing to kill one of their own, or were they good people because they would do the unthinkable to save the rest of the family? Ultimately, Mason knew that answer too. They were neither. They were survivors, and in this new world of the damned, a survivor was all anyone could ever hope to be.

  Fortunately, the point was made moot, at least for now. Beverly reached across the table and took Sarah's hand as the tears began to pour.

  “Sarah, I am so sorry,” she bawled quietly, her voice in a whisper. “Mace, all of you, I am so sorry...”

  Sarah said nothing. She simply held her friend's hand and joined her tears with a few of her own.

  Mason felt Mackenzie's tight little grip loosen, so he knew that her rage was gone, just like that. As Inez and Sarah put their arms around Beverly from either side, drawing her in close and tut-tutting in her ear, a new calm descended.

  The college kids finished their meals in silence. Then, they drifted quietly away and set about dismantling their makeshift beds, enough to make extras for the new arrivals. Eventually, Inez ushered Beverly away to a corner, where a few jackets and bits of clothing had been laid out, and she stayed there with her, holding her tight and matching her tear for tear.

  Christopher rose to his feet, saying, “I think I'll have a look around before turning in.”

  He hadn't taken two steps before Hansen called after him.

  “Just make sure you keep moving, kid. The front doors are glass, and we don't want DBs piling up.”

  Christopher's back stiffened. “Thank you so much for imparting that little pearl of wisdom, Officer Hansen. While I'm gone, perhaps you might wish to suck a bag of dicks.”

  Hansen's lip curled, but he held his tongue.

  And now there were five. Five people sitting around a table in a most awkward and deafening silence. But then Clancy stuck his big head in Mackenzie's lap once again, and all eyes went to that sweet little girl, handing her giant of a dog bits of food from her plate, and giggling every time he took them as gently as lamb. Sarah and Mason shared a grin, Becks smiled from ear to ear. Even hard-assed Gary Hansen had what might best be described as a disturbance at the very edges of his perpetual scowl.

  It didn't last long, though. When the last of the handouts had been given and received, Sarah announced, “Okay, let's get you two settled.” Then, she led both girl and dog away.

  Now there were three, and a more awkward silence there had never been. At last, Mason felt Becks' hand sneak back into his, and his breath caught in his throat.

  In trying to look anywhere at all other than directly at Becks, his wandering eye happened to alight on Mack and Sarah, settling on the barest excuse for a bed in the far corner. Mackenzie was fussing over Clancy, exchanging kisses on the snout with generous sweeps of his huge tongue. Sarah was giving them each a gentle kiss on the forehead, and they were all lying down, cuddling together as always. And as always, a spot had been left open for him on Mack's other side.

  “She's quite the girl,” he heard Becks say. Only then did he realize how long his gaze must have lingered on that idyllic little scene.

  “She is,” he agreed whole-heartedly. Then, he added an all-too honest, “They both are,” and felt Becks' hand slip away.

  “I see,” she said, barely audibly.

  He turned bodily in his chair to face her while doing his best to ignore her father's pasty mug looming up in the background.

  “No, Becks, I don't think you do. I came across Mack on that very first day. I thought I was saving her life, but in reality, she was saving mine. Without her, I don't know where I'd be, but it wouldn't be anywhere good. That precious little girl saved my very soul, and then she went on to quite literally save my ass more times than I can count. I can honestly say the same thing about Sarah. She's not my girlfriend, she's not my lover, and she is in no way a replacement for you. But I can honestly say that I love them both with all my heart.”

  Becks took it all in, then she dropped her chin and hushed, “And me?”

  He put a pair of fingers under her chin, raised her head, and it was all he could do to not lose himself in those beautiful dark eyes. “Becks, I will always love you. In spite of everything that's happened between us, I fought my way through Hell to find you, and I promise that I will continue to fight all of Hell to keep you safe. But if there's one thing I've learned, it's that we have to live in the now. No promises, no regrets, no past and no future. Whatever we had is gone, and whatever we might have from this point on is an empty promise. But I can honestly say to you, Becks, that it is damn good to be with you, right here, right now.”

  Becks leaned forward and kissed him, and despite her father snorting and grumbling away behind her, Mason revelled in a moment he'd thought was gone forever. When their lips finally parted, they shared a gaze that might have lasted for all of eternity.

  Then Mason abruptly stood and announced to them both, “We have a big day tomorrow,” and went off to the sad little excuse for a bed in the corner.

  With Becks and her father looking on, he slipped off his boots, kissed Mackenzie on the head, and stretched out beside her and Sarah as if he'd been doing it for a lifetime.

  “She seems nice,” Sarah hushed from the other side of Mackenzie, quietly enough not to be overheard.

  “She is,” Mason replied, just as quietly.

  “Her old man's a piece of work, though.”


  “He is that. I guess some people never change.”

  “Some do,” Sarah whispered one last time, and Mason could almost imagine her elbow in his ribs.

  He'd thought Mackenzie was already fast asleep, but she managed to coo a drowsy little, “Do you love her?” He could only thank his lucky stars that it had apparently been with her last waking breath.

  Her breathing slowed and deepened. She gave one last stretch like a tiny, sleepy kitten, and she was out like a light. Mason raised his head to look across her to Sarah, and they shared the sweetest of smiles. Then, they both lay back down and Mason was left alone with his thoughts.

  Do I love her, Mack…? He asked himself the question again, and the last thought he had before sleep came to claim him was, Yes, Mack, I do. I do love her. Almost as much as I love you and Sarah...

  CHAPTER XII

  The echo had been female at some point, but aside from one pendulous breast exposed between tatters of a bloody Trojans sweatshirt, nothing much was recognizable. Most of the flesh was gone from its face, the only hair remaining was a gore-matted clump of what might have been blonde, and the entire area between sternum and crotch was a gaping void.

  The creature stared blankly in at Mason with its one remaining eye, snapping its lipless jaws and pawing at the glass, and it wasn't alone in the Quad. Echoes had gathered during the night, and now as many as eight were pressed up against the front of the building.

  But it could have been worse, Mason knew. And once again, he had to give credit where credit was due. By arranging their sleeping quarters in the back of the building, Hansen had all but ensured that the greater mass of echoes would collect precisely there – as close to the flame as the moths could get.

  A quick run from one end of the roof to the other, then a dash across the gangplank to building eight, and they would buy themselves a full minute or two before the swarm could manage to reorient itself.

  Mason gazed out at the broken little female, and he spared a moment to wonder who this girl might once have been. Had she been pretty? The small stature and team sweatshirt suggested youth. So he concluded that she must have been pretty. Young girls were always pretty. It was only when the world started to beat them down that they lost that buoyant glow of youth. So... had this pretty young girl been someone's sister? Someone's daughter? Someone's lover? Had someone cared for this shattered little girl the way he cared for the only three girls he'd ever loved?

  A splash of blood across the glass washed away all such thoughts. Two more splashes from two more echoes creased the glass, and it was all he could do to make out the close-cropped hair and wide shoulders of twenty-something Donn appearing beyond the blur, his massive war-scythe dripping with gore.

  Mason uncoiled the last links of chain from the door and slipped quietly through, followed at his heels by Christopher, Alejandra, and Addison, all with their SBDs.

  Most of the wet work had already been done. On Hansen's insistence, he, Donn, and Richie, had taken on the task of clearing the Quad. It was a ritual they had performed every morning for the better part of two weeks, and Mason would be the first to admit that they had honed their skills to razor sharpness. Barely had a foot silently struck ground at the end of a rope, before half a dozen echoes were quietly dispatched.

  But even so, it was only the start of the battle. As the light of humanity shifted, so did the swarm. Though the wave of echoes was blocked on one side by the car-barrier, another wave crested around the west side of the building like a veritable tsunami.

  It started with two, then three, and then came the torrent, and it was all they could do to swing and swing and swing again. Mason clubbed one little male over the head, cracking its skull open like an egg. But he hadn't even pulled the rebar free before another was on him. He gave the creature a ferocious kick to the knee that dropped it to the ground. Then, he speared it through one temple and out the other like a shish kebab.

  Beside him, Alejandra was chopping away with her machete, and as always, what she lacked in height, she more than made up for in guts. If the echo was under six feet tall, she would hack at its neck, either severing its spine with the first blow or slowing it down enough for a second whack to do the job. If the creature was too tall for such a manoeuvre, she would chop it off at the knee to bring it down to her level and lay into it without mercy.

  Addison and Christopher were side by side, cleaving away with Nut-Buster and hatchet, and Hansen, Donn, and Richie, were giving it everything they had. All of them were big and strong and powerful, so it rarely took more than a single blow to turn a skull to mush. Only once did Mason see any of them falter, and that was when Richie missed his target by a few degrees and one of his bat's spikes got wedged between two vertebrae in a particularly big echo's neck. But Donn was quick to react. He decapitated the creature with one mighty swing of his war-scythe. Then, he planted a boot between its shoulder blades so Richie could yank his weapon free.

  But even as the fight raged, every bit of it was done in a vacuum. There were no warning shouts, no grunts of exertion, not so much as a laboured breath. When they got winded, they gulped air instead of panting. When a bit of detritus splattered into an open mouth, they didn't spit. They wiped it away with the sleeve of a shirt. And when they simply grew too tired to fight, they fought on anyway, without a single whimper.

  Sarah and Mackenzie were on the Alamo's roof with their .22s, but they were holding their fire. Teddy was up there too, with her crossbow as big as her, but she didn't let loose a single bolt lest the twang of the strings give them away. Diego, though, was under no such limitations. His slingshot was as silent as a whisper. The boy stood stock-still on the very edge of the roof with the fanny-pack on his hip full of ball-bearings salvaged from wherever-the-hell, and he quickly proved the weapon to be far more than a toy. The kid's aim was spectacular, and the slingshot was powerful. Every slug he fired found its mark, with more than enough force to penetrate a skull. And like a .22 bullet, once that ball-bearing entered the skull, it rattled around and around, turning the echo's brain into Swiss cheese.

  One after another were felled, and every bit of it was done as quietly as Sunday prayers. Soon enough, the tsunami turned back into a river, then it slowed to a trickle, and Donn and Richie were left to mop up while the others set off on the next phase of the plan.

  Four others emerged as silently as ghosts and took to covering the backs of those quietly making their way to building six. Becks had her javelin, Sk8rboy William had his crossbow, Inez toted Alejandra's Tommy gun, making her look a little like Ma Barker, and Beverly had been given the honor of wielding Sarah's kukri on the express condition that she resort to the gun on her hip only if it was absolutely necessary. At one point, Mason actually considered relieving her of the gun entirely, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Firstly, Beverly was a valued member of the team, and despite a bit of a meltdown, he trusted her to follow orders. More to the point though, he knew full well that her gun might very well save one of their lives – his own included.

  And then, there was Clancy. He'd been held back until phase one was complete, but now he came charging out, ready to join in on the fun. He came up to Mason first as if reporting for duty. Then, he tossed his head in the direction of Donn and Richie, dealing with a straggling echo, and bared his teeth. A single gesture from Mason, though, and he stayed dutifully at the man's side, with his nose in the air and a keen eye on the perimeter.

  Mason led the way up the concourse, took a handful of concrete steps as silently as a cat, and found himself directly in front of where a giant had taken a bite out of building six.

  The entire front of the place was glass, with a glass door at either end, and another in the middle. The doors had been secured from the outside with 2x4s shoved through the handles and tied off with rope – and a good thing, too. Already, four echoes were trying to claw their way out, and by the look of their ravaged bodies, they weren't alone in there. Mason crept up to the nearest door and shone his f
lashlight as far into the darkness as it would reach, and when nothing else appeared, he did the unthinkable. He brought up his fifty pounds of rebar and rapped on the glass with a gentle tap-tap-tap...

  At first, there was nothing. The echoes continued to bumble along, but beyond that, nothing moved. But, hadn't it? There was one fleeting moment where he thought he might've caught the slightest shifting of darkness against darkness. He tapped again, this time just a little harder.

  It started as a subtle trick of shadows at the very limit of his flashlight. He wasn't sure at first that he was even seeing anything at all. But then the shadow grew, a howl arose from within, and a big male the approximate size of a mountain gorilla came charging across the foyer, crashing into the glass directly across from Mason.

  Anyone else would have reacted. A flinch. A gasp. A backward step. But not Mason. He stood stock-still as the creature thundered into the glass, thrashing and clawing and drooling a bloody red foam from its rabid, snapping jaws.

  Mason gave the signal, and Addison, Alejandra, Hansen, and Christopher joined him, leaving Becks, William, Inez, and Beverly to protect their rear. As the trio of echoes followed the shifting light in awkward, stuttering steps, one of them happened to bump directly into the alpha. The creature immediately turned on it, and Christopher used those precious few seconds to work the ropes free from the door, slip out the 2x4, lay it on the ground as if it were Ming china, and slowly and quietly ease the door open.

  Mason was the first one in, and barely had he set foot across the threshold when a second, smaller alpha appeared from out of nowhere and came charging directly at him. Normally, he would have held his ground and let the alpha to come to him. But to do so now would block the way for the others. So, he launched himself at the creature and met it halfway, driving several feet of rebar through its snapping jaws and directly out the back of its neck. While the others took care of the big male and the remaining trio of echoes, he lowered the dead body gently to the floor, planted his boot on a blood-soaked t-shirt declaring 'I'm Not Like The Other Girls,' and shhlucked the rebar free.