End Days Super Boxset (102 page)

He parked the van and sat silent for a moment. There was a half tank left and the engine was smoking. The van needed to cool off, and although he didn’t like leaving all of his supplies, he wouldn’t be far. Greg stepped out carefully with the aid of the cane from Tilda’s house. He squeezed through the shaded crevice, just large enough to fit his van into, and went around to the other side. He opened the door and pulled out his bug-out bag and rifle. Laying them aside on the ground, he then pulled out some rolled-up camouflage netting and fastened it over the van. His leg still hurt, but the pain was manageable and certainly not enough to immobilize him.

He heard and saw no one, and a light mountain breeze blew around him, making everything seem calm and pleasant for just a moment. He grabbed his bug-out bag and threw it over his shoulders while trying to keep his balance.

Come on, old man
, he said to himself.

He picked up the rifle—his prized Remington Bolt Action Model 700 with a scope. With the bug-out bag, rifle, and cane, he trudged up the hill leading to the lookout cliff. The dry dirt and pebbles crunched beneath his boots with each step. The rugged cliff sat on the side of the mountain overlooking the wide plains below. Atop the cliff, covered in heavy scrub, there were several trees with thin braches stretching out like veins, their leaves as brown as an autumn desert. It was a perfect lookout spot, better than Greg could have hoped for.

He tossed his pack down and rested his rifle against a nearby tree. Looking out from the cliff from the cover of thick, plentiful desert shrubs, he gazed at rolling hills and the flat, barren landscape below. There were some signs of green vegetation, but the dry season had taken its toll.

Across the land he could see more mountain ranges that touched the clouds. The sun shone brilliantly on everything below. Greg could have appreciated it more if the situation hadn’t been so dire. He turned around and dug into his bug-out bag, pulling out a pair of binoculars. He looked out into the vast open space, carefully scanning everything below.

Through the lens of his binos, Greg saw a faint smoke trail miles away. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He could see something, but what? It wasn’t a fire exactly, and the surrounding area looked like a landfill. He thought he could see trash piled into a large hole that, from his vantage point, looked about the size of a swimming pool. He continued to scan when, in his field of vision, at least two miles away, he saw an enclosed facility with large, concrete walls.

He removed the binos, quickly rubbed his eyes, and then looked again. The walls had concertina wire on them, but there were no other discernable markings. There were no signs, people about, or vehicles anywhere to be seen. The place looked about as isolated as any military outpost could be. He had a feeling about it, just as he had a feeling about the path he had taken so far.

“Base 42,” Greg said out loud, smiling.

He lowered his binos and readied his rifle. After watching the base and observing its defenses, he planned to take action and save Veronica before it was too late. What stood between them was a short distance, thick concrete walls, and concertina wire.
That’s all?
He smiled wryly, then turned back to his bug-out bag and began to lay out the equipment he would need for the perfect stakeout.

On the night he kidnapped Veronica, Jacob's beat up pick-up truck arrived outside the gates of Base 42 with the engine smoking. He leaned against the steering wheel and held down the horn in front of the rolling chain-link gate that was chained and padlocked shut. From the passenger seat, Veronica again struggled to free herself from the ropes tied to her wrists and ankles. Somehow, she managed to open the truck door, startling Jacob, whose head shot up. The blood-soaked rag wrapped around his shoulder had controlled the bleeding enough to keep it from running down his shirt.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked.

His eyes were half-shut, sweat poured down his forehead, and he appeared to be on the verge of delirium. He was in no rush to grab her. Instead, he found it amusing. Even if she made it out of the truck, nothing but desert surrounded them. Veronica, however, saw it a different way. She fell out of the truck onto the rocks and dirt below and immediately began to crawl away, digging her bound hands into the ground and pushing herself forward with exhausted grunts.

Jacob remained in the car, his head sinking lower and about to pass out from the liquor he had downed to dull the pain of his gunshot wound. It was the middle of the night, and it hadn’t taken long for them to arrive at the base. Jacob had driven like a madman through the twists and turns of the valley and the mountains. Veronica didn't think that they would make it. She had almost accepted it. But now that they had arrived, the only thing on her mind was escape.

While crawling away from the truck and the base, she could hear the large chain-linked fence squeak open and footsteps racing toward her. She cried out, digging into the sand, hopelessly trying to flee. Only there was nowhere to flee to. Two dark figures ran in front of her and stopped. A flashlight beamed into her face.

"Where you going, lady?" a man's muffled voice asked.

She looked up at them, squinting and unresponsive, unwilling to give them the satisfaction of an answer, but seething behind clenched teeth. Blocking her path, the two men laughed and nudged each other.

"Looks like we got a feisty one here," the other man said. He spoke with a twang and had a mocking laugh.

"Well, I don't wanna touch her."

"Me neither. Could be infected for all we know."

"That'd be a shame."

They walked away from her and to the driver's side of the truck. Veronica pushed herself forward as a feeling of hopelessness overcame her.

One of the men shined his flashlight into the driver's seat, exposing Jacob, his head slumped on the steering wheel.

"Well, look who's back," the man said.

"Sergeant Bilko, in the flesh," the other man added. They were both in their thirties and of average height. The taller of the two was covered with tattoos on his neck. His head was shaved and his scarred face was free of facial hair. His compatriot was the polar opposite, heavyset with a full head of hair and a beard. Both of them were wearing surgical masks.

They observed an unconscious Jacob for a moment. His silence gave them no answers, but when they walked around to the other side of the truck and saw a bloody rag tied around his shoulder, they could guess what had happened. Veronica's cries of struggle continued. She had managed to stand up, but with her legs tied at the ankles, she could only hop forward. The two men turned around in amusement.

"Looks like ol' Jacob got himself a hostage," the bearded man said with a laugh.

The tattooed man took a step forward. "Let's give her a running start." The two men laughed heartily as Veronica fell to the ground again.

"All right, all right, enough playing around," the bearded man said. "We'll have to call this one in. Get some HAZMAT dudes out here to wrangle in this broad."

The men walked away casually without concern for Veronica as she lay on the ground. She gnawed at the rope on her wrists then moved her hand down to pull at the rope around her ankles. Jacob had tied them too tight. Ahead of her, she saw nothing but darkness and the large shadow of a mountain ridge. There wasn't a soul around. Suddenly, she remembered Jacob’s knife in the truck. She chastised herself for not thinking to take it before she got out, but her instincts had been to just get away.

She sat up and then lunged forward, pushing herself as hard as she could back to the truck. She could see the lights of the base through the open gate and figured that she had little time. As the truck idled, she climbed in on the passenger's side and searched frantically.

Jacob remained slumped over, breathing quietly in his stupor. She recoiled from him but then found the strength to move in closer for a look. She felt around his pants pocket then saw that the knife was on the seat right between his legs. The opportunity to do some real damage was right there, but jamming a knife into Jacob would only make him scream and cut the amount of time she had to escape.

She grabbed the knife with both hands and situated herself firmly in the passenger seat. She placed the handle between her knees, holding it tight, the blade pointing straight up, and moved her wrists up and down, cutting the rope against the blade. It began to fray and she felt a moment of hope. Suddenly a bright light beamed into the truck and she saw several shadowed figures moving toward her from the base.

She looked up in a panic then looked back down, continuing to cut the rope as her black hair hung in her face. All at once, the rope was cut in half and she was free. Ecstatic, she shook away the remaining rope on her wrist as the knife fell to the floor. She lunged for it and quickly started to get to work on her ankles. The footsteps were getting closer and the light was still shining into the truck. She didn't stop her frantic attempt to get free despite the feeling of impending doom deep within. A man wearing a HAZMAT suit came directly to her side of the truck just as the rope cut free around her ankles.

"All right, let’s go, sweetheart," he said.

She turned to him and froze, not sure how many people were surrounding her. She saw another HAZMAT man come around the other side to examine Jacob.

"Nice and easy, ma'am," the HAZMAT man on her side said.

Without a moment's hesitation, Veronica jumped out of the truck and tried to run, but he grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back.

In response, she brought the knife around in a fury and stabbed him in his side. The man screamed and fell to the ground. Veronica sprinted off and ran into the darkness.

"Hey!" the other HAZMAT man shouted.

She continued to run without turning back. It felt like she was going to get away as she had taken them completely by surprise. But there were more than just two men in HAZMAT suits. As the injured one lay on the ground, two others attended to him, asking what happened.

"Bitch stabbed me!" he said, gritting his teeth. One of the men holding a spotlight ran to the rear of the truck and then shined the light in Veronica’s direction.

"There she goes!" he yelled

"Shoot her!" the stabbed man shouted, causing the one armed HAZMAT man by his side to stand up and take aim.

"Do
not s
hoot her!" the man on the driver's side said. "I'm warning you." He then sprinted off after her, telling the man holding the spotlight to follow.

As hard as it was to run in full HAZMAT, the two men made great strides and only trailed a short distance behind Veronica. She could feel them closing in behind her and pumped her legs as fast as she could. The spotlight HAZMAT man kept his light on her as the other man raised a Taser gun and fired it. Veronica could feel the sharp prongs go right into her back just before the jolt came, then she was on the ground, shaking in agony. The HAZMAT men were on her in an instant. Their gloved hands pulled at her arms and feet and she was lifted into the air and carried back to the truck.

"No!" she shouted as her tears fell. "Let me go. Let me go!"

They threw her on the ground and she slid into the dirt face-first. She began to get up on all fours when the blunt end of a buttstock came across the back of her head. She fell back to the ground as everything went dark.

***

Jacob awoke lying in a bed in a small empty room. He had been changed into a hospital gown and the wound on his shoulder had been cleaned and bandaged. He felt dazed, lightheaded, and sore. A long fluorescent bulb lit up the room from above. There was a chair in the corner of the room and a rolling table to his side with gauze, scissors, and tape resting on it. Just as everything started coming back to him, the door opened.

A man entered the room in protective garments—gown, coveralls, boots, gloves, respirator, hood, and face shield. Jacob recognized him as Marcus, Bill Hodder's number two around the base. Jacob tried to speak, but his throat and mouth were too dry. All he managed to get out was a faint "water."

"You're up, I see," Marcus said.

Jacob repeated himself.

Marcus walked to the bed, leaned down, and held up a thirty-two ounce bottle with water in it. "Here you go. We brought this in here earlier for you."

Jacob quickly took the bottle, placed it against his lips, and gulped it down. He thanked Marcus and then asked why he was suited up.

"It's pretty obvious," Marcus said. "You've been beyond the walls. We have to monitor you. You know the drill."

Jacob sighed, his voice still a little raspy. "Come on, man."

"There's nothing else to it," Marcus said, pacing the room. "Hodder believes it's airborne, and most of us agree. There are going to be some interesting changes around here."

"Look. I did what I was supposed to do. I got some supplies. Lots of them."

"You also brought back a woman."

Jacob's eyes widened as if suddenly realizing she wasn't at his side. "Where is she?"

"We've got her in another room, monitoring her just like you."

"I want to see her."

Marcus picked up the scissors on the table, playing with them, and then turned to Jacob. "That's not happening. At least for a while."

Jacob started to get up when the pain in his shoulder suddenly kicked in. He fell back to the bed.

Marcus continued. "Easy there, fella. It didn't exactly look like an ideal romance when we found you two."

"How long do I have to stay in here?"

"As long as it takes us to clear you. Maybe two days, maybe two weeks."

"Just brilliant," Jacob said. His face was red with anger.

"Some could say the same thing about you bringing an outsider back with you."

Jacob looked at Marcus in stunned disbelief. "Are you dense?" he asked. "What the hell do you think I brought her back here for? If Hodder really believes we're going extinct, don't you think it makes sense to keep the population going?"

"Won't matter if she's infected," Marcus said.

Jacob scoffed. "She's not infected. Trust me."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Call it a hunch."

"We don't give a shit about your hunches. Anyway, your plan’s a bust."

"What are you talking about?" Jacob asked, confused.

Marcus swung around at the end of the bed, still holding the scissors. "She said that she's infertile," he said. "It was one of the first things she said when we locked her up. Only you would manage to snag a woman who can't get pregnant to further the human race."

“Give me a break," Jacob said. "She's just saying that, hoping that we'll leave her alone."

“Sure. She could be. I guess after she's cleared we'll just have to find out."

"Fuck you," Jacob said. "She's mine."

Marcus stared back at him coldly through his protective hood.

Jacob's eyes then went to the ground. "I mean, I should get her first anyway."

"Need to respect your chain of command, Jacob. You, as a pretend-soldier, should know that."

Jacob’s face grew red with anger, but he said nothing else.

***

Veronica found herself in a room that resembled a prison cell, only there were no bars. Instead, there were four barren walls and a white floor. There was a small aluminum toilet in the corner of the room with an equally small aluminum sink next to it. She lay on a single mattress on the floor wearing her same tattered jeans and T-shirt. Any sense of hope was erased when she saw the handcuffs around her wrist, connected to a metal railing in the wall.

She was a captive yet again, only her captors were nameless. She didn't think that they could be any worse than Jacob. As that thought entered her mind, the door opened and Bill Hodder entered wearing full protective gear. Veronica backed against the wall, tugging on the handcuffs. His appearance was intimidating and frightening to her, partly because of the way the distorted reflection from the overhead lights glared onto his face shield.

"Who are you?" she asked. "What do you want from me?"

Her head pounded and she could feel a large bump on top. Her narrow escape began to come back to her in fragments. It was as if she never had a chance. "Where am I?" Her questions seemed to have no end.

Hodder approached closer to her bed. A brief glimmer of hope came over her that maybe he meant her no harm. Maybe they wanted to help her. The handcuffs, however, brought her back to reality.