Verge of Extinction (Apex Predator Book 3) (24 page)

Tears welled in his eyes.  He couldn’t bear the thought.  No, I can’t hurt her again.  He reached for the rifle in her hands.

She jumped, startled by the sudden movement.  Through the tears she watched as the young man grasped the muzzle of her rifle.  He pulled the barrel close to his forehead.  His breathing became rapid.

“Do it,” he pleaded.  “Please do it.”  She couldn’t hear him.  She didn’t have to.

Tears streaked down her face for the second time that day.  Jackson’s hand fell away, lifeless, as the rifle bucked in her hand.  She fell to her knees, crying.  She cradled his head in her arms; his gore covering her as it drained from his skull.

Later she would realize that she hadn’t tuned out the rest of the world.  She hadn’t really forgotten about the zombies still shambling towards her.  She would come to realize that at that moment, she was embracing her own death.  She would come to believe that at that moment, she stood on the precipice, ready to let go.  But, alas, it was not to be.

The Island

              Kerry and Theresa burst into the clinic.  There they found SSgt Brown and Sgt Procell.  Both men were visibly shaken.  SSgt Brown paced back and forth, his fists clenching and unclenching.  His tears had cut great troughs through the grime on his face.   He peered at the two women through bloodshot eyes.

              When he saw Theresa, his eyes turned from anger to pain.  Why?  She thought.  Why did he look like that?    “What?” she asked.  “What’s wrong?”  Her voice became shaky as she asked.  She knew it was bad.  She looked at the collective faces.  Finally it dawned on her.  There were several people missing.

“Who is it?” she pleaded with him.  Her eyes welled up with tears.  He turned to the door.  She took a hesitant step; then another.  The big soldier stepped next to her.  He pushed the door open.

Theresa’s heart skipped a beat.  Indira turned toward the door.  Her eyes too were red, her face tear streaked.  Her eyes betrayed the pain she felt.  She tried to speak.  Theresa watched as she opened her mouth several times.  No words came out.  She finally walked to the girl and hugged her.  Why?  What has happened?  Who was it?

When she stepped out of the way, Theresa could see two bodies lying on the exam tables.  One was lying on its side with its back to the door.  A blanket pulled tightly over the shoulders.  The second body appeared to be lying on its back, also covered with a blanket.  A dark stain stood out where the head should be.

The boots, she suddenly thought.  The obviously dead body was wearing a pair of combat boots.  No!  No, she thought.  Please don’t let it be him.  Her knees suddenly couldn’t bear her weight.  She crumpled to the ground, crying uncontrollably.

They helped her into a chair near Jen.  The two women cried together.  Jen tried to explain to the girl how it had happened.  Theresa tried to help Jen forgive herself.  In the end, Indira gave each one a sedative and tucked them in, she and Kerry took turns watching over the grieving women.

“What in the hell happened?” Mr. Westergart demanded.  “Jesus Christ, it was supposed to be a simple pickup job.”

SSgt Brown’s face was set in a deep scowl.  He had made the same inquiry of Jen when she had returned with Jackson’s body.  Of course she had been unable to answer him.  The poor woman had been catatonic.  She was lucky to have driven the HEMMT the ten miles without killing herself

He had sent Sgt Procell and Paulson out to find out what had happened.  He had gotten his answer only a few minutes before.  “It was the Little Debbie,” he blurted.  The older man gave him a quizzical look

“The Little Debbie they were picking up was the one with the giant fans on it, like a flail tank.  It was supposed to work like a giant lawn mower.  Sgt Procell tells me that the front of the Little Debbie was covered in high speed blood splatter.  From what little I got out of Jen and what he found, it looks like the crew was infected by the flying blood.”

He paused.  “When Jackson opened the doors to let the crew out, they had turned.”  The old NCO had to take a deep breath and swallow the lump in his throat.  Jackson had been the last member of his squad to survive the end of the world.  He could feel tears begin to fill his eyes.

“Jen said she tried, but all ten burst through the doors as soon as he opened them.  The kid never stood a chance.”  He couldn’t contain his emotions anymore.  He turned away from the older soldier, running his fingers through his hair.  Tears drained from his eyes, carving more rivulets through the day’s worth of dirt and grime.

Mr. Westergart placed an arm over his shoulder.  He knew the pain the man felt.  He’d lost friends in combat.  He’d lost students in their trek across Missouri.  He’s lost his wife to a rare form of cancer while he was on deployment.  He hadn’t even been able to make it home for her funeral.  He knew how destructive this pain could be.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into the grieving man’s ear.  “I know there’s nothing I can say to make it better.   I’ve been there.”  He paused for a moment.  He tried to think of something great to say.  He couldn’t.  Instead, he hugged the big NCO and mourned his loss.  Both men cried.

Day 47

The Island

Theresa woke before Jen that morning.  Her head hurt and her arms and legs felt heavy.  She could move, but it wasn’t easy.  She looked at the older woman.  Tears welled in her eyes.  She loved her, she knew deep down it was true.  But, right now, she wanted to hate her.  She had been there.  She had been with him when he died.  She hadn’t saved him.  She’d let him down.  She’d let him die!

Soon, she realized that she was no longer thinking about Jen.  She hated herself.  She hadn’t been there to protect him.  Through all this time, she had been right behind him.  She had been there for him.  She had protected him.  But, in the end she had failed him.  The tears again streaked down her cheeks.

Kerry watched as the teenager woke.  She felt for her.  Everyone in their group could tell that there was something special between the young orphan and the young trooper.  From the moment the group had rescued her and Simon, she had seen that look in the girl’s eye.  It was obvious that Jackson had never realized that the young woman was in love with him.

Oh, the girl would never admit it.  Kerry had learned over the month that Theresa came from a very traditional, some might say redneck, southern family.  There was no way the girl could ever act on her feelings for the man she viewed as her savior.  Plus, the young man was at least six years older than she was.  It was moot anyway.  Kerry didn’t think the young man would have allowed anything to happen.

She had to fight back a tear.  Her chest heaved as she thought about the young man.  He had never asked for anything from anyone.  He had followed SSgt Brown like, well, like a soldier is supposed to follow his leader.  He was resourceful.  He never hesitated to be the first one into a dangerous situation.  He was truly a hero to many.  He would forever be one of her heroes.

Theresa sat up, wiping the tears from her bloodshot eyes.  “Oh,” she quietly croaked.  Her throat was so dry.  “I didn’t know you were here.”

The older woman nodded in the affirmative.  “Been here most of the night,” she said.

Jen suddenly sat bolt upright.  She looked confused.  Her eyes darted wildly from side to side.  Her eyes met Theresa’s.  Her face suddenly went slack as she realized her most recent memories were not, in-fact, some surreal dream.  Tears welled up in the older woman’s eyes again.  She couldn’t speak.  She just covered her face with her hands and cried.  They all cried.  Tears fell, chests heaved, and noses ran as the trio dealt with their own grief.

It was Theresa who finally spoke.  “Damn it, Miss Jen,” she blurted.  “That’s enough.  It wasn’t your fault.  It wasn’t my fault, and it sure wasn’t your fault, Kerry.  I miss him.  I don’t want him gone.  But, I don’t have a choice.  I didn’t have a choice with Mamma, Daddy, or Davy either.  Since this has started, none of us has had a choice.”

She looked to Kerry.  “The only thing we can do for the dead is to mourn them.  After that we can either choose to curl up and do nothing.  Or, we can choose to move on.  We can honor their memories and survive.  Mike, Davy, Jackson; they all put us first.  They took risks so that we could survive.”

Jen heard the words that the girl was saying.  She also knew they made sense.  When she evoked the name of her dead husband it sent a shock through her.  She realized that she hadn’t even thought about Mike since Jackson had died.  His death had meant that much.  If she could replace the pain of Mike’s death, then she could find something to replace this pain.  She had to.

“Where’s the body?” she asked Kerry.

“…Best men I’ve ever had the pleasure of serving with.  No mission was too difficult for him.”  SSgt Brown looked down as he wiped the little tear from the corner of his eye.  He looked back at the small crowd.  Aside from the four women and Sgt Procell, Sam and his firemen were present.  Several of the boat crews were there also.  A group of the River Rats had returned to the Island when their helicopter had broken down.  Their all black uniforms caused them to stand out from the rest of the mourners.

“When he found himself in this new world, again, Jackson acted like a true professional.  But, it was more than that.  He never lost his humanity.  Whenever a chance to save another human being arose, Jackson always advocate for the living.  He once told me that the only way we can truly survive was to keep our humanity.  He lived those words every day.  Many of you here owe your lives to the strength of his conviction.”

“Jen,” he looked to her.  “I know he would never say it to you, but he blamed himself for Mike’s death.”  He looked out to the small sea of faces.  “He actually cried himself to sleep almost every night since then.  He respected Mike.  The thought that he somehow let you and Mike down, troubled him deeply.”

He glanced at the sun, as it crept towards the western horizon.  “I know that he loved and cared for each and every one of us deeply.  I don’t have the verse, but the bible tells us that greater love hath no man than this:  That he lay down his life for his friends.  I can tell you; this young man, this soldier, would gladly lay down his life over and over again if he thought he could save just one of you.”

He withdrew a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it.  The handwriting was neat with a little bit of a flourish.  It was a woman’s handwriting.  He cleared the lump from his throat.  “I’ve never been a very good public speaker.  In fact, Jackson would have told you I really kind of suck at it.  So, today I enlisted the help of a friend.”  He nodded a silent thank you to the young redhead.

“The bible has a few verses that I know I’ve heard before, but couldn’t remember.  Kerry has been kind enough to act as my spiritual advisor in this matter.  Psalm 34:18 tells us: The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.  I would have to say that during the last few months, all of us have felt like our spirit has been crushed.  We have all wanted to give up at some point.  Let not our hearts be troubled.”

He flipped the paper over.  “Romans 14:8 tells us:  For if we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord. So then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s. So, while we are sad that Jackson is gone, he is in a better place.  He doesn’t live in fear of becoming a walking corps.  He no longer fears that those he loves will fall under the weight of the onslaught of evil.  He is at peace.  He is in the arms of our Father.”

Tears again flowed from his eyes.  He had wanted to say so much more.  Jackson deserved so much more.  But he couldn’t.  He simply snapped to attention and saluted.  “God damn it, you deserved the rider-less horse.”  He was referring to the tradition of a rider-less horse, riding boots facing backwards in the stirrups accompanying a funeral procession.  In the US, the rider-less horse is generally reserved for Army and Marine officers of high rank and presidents.

His arm dropped to his side with a slap.  He executed a parade-ground perfect about face.  He struggled to keep his head held high as tears flowed down his cheeks.  He quickly wiped his arms across his eyes as he took his seat.

Several others spoke on Jackson’s behalf.  Theresa had stayed up all night crafting a moving speech for the man who had rescued her.  He had not only snatched her from the jaws of death, but he had taught her his craft.  When she was at her darkest moment, this young black man had helped her find a purpose.  He had helped her channel her pain into something else.  He had taught her how to kill.

That last thought had sounded so morbid.  But, it was true.  He had taught her how to kill zombies so that she could protect those who she still cared about.  Had it not been for him, she would have curled up and died a long time ago.  She, of all present, owed her life to Private Jackson.

Tears were already flowing down her cheeks as she withdrew two folded pieces of paper.  Tears soon caused the ink to run as she tried to read her speech.  She couldn’t focus on the words.  Her mind focused on the drops.  She watched captivated, as the words she had struggled to find, ran together under the weight of her tears.  Finally, she returned to her seat.  Jen wrapped her hand around the young girl, holding her as her body was wracked by sobs.