The Redemption Trilogy

by A. J. Sikes

  “Place needs a little cleaning up,” Danitha said. “But I could live here. You know, make a little home for myself. Plant a garden, get some food growing.”

  “I’m glad you still have your sense of humor, Dani. It’s what I’ve always liked about you.”

  “Keep ’em laughing. That’s what my dad used to tell me. Make ’em laugh, keep ’em laughing. Wish it worked the way he said it would.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Said people can’t take time to hurt you if they too busy laughing.”

  “Reminds me of my grandmother,” Emily said. “She was always quick with a joke when me and Chava would fight.”

  They continued that way, trading stories of childhood and trudging toward Houston. They came to a nicer suburb, a long stretch of wealthy homes on either side of a single street. Overgrown farmland stretched out behind the houses, dotted with clusters of trees. The houses here were spaced apart, among what used to be wide lawns and small trees. Now the whole place looked more like the trail of a tornado’s passing, with garbage and ruin covering all the open ground in a path that followed the street into the distance.

  “I’d rather rebuild here,” Emily said. “These homes are nicer than anything I’ve lived in.”

  Danitha didn’t reply and Emily turned to see her stooping down and moving toward an overturned car at the edge of the street. Emily followed her, crouching low and scanning the area, trying to identify what Danitha was focused on. They got to the car and huddled behind it.

  “What is it, Dani?”

  “They found us. Go look,” Danitha said.

  Emily risked a glance around the front of the car. A group of armed men wandered in between the ruined homes on the other side of the street. They didn’t move like they’d seen anything, but just roamed around, eyeing the rooftops.

  Emily dropped back to a crouch beside Danitha and whispered to her. “They didn’t see us.”

  “Yet. What are they doin’ here?”

  Emily craned her neck to see around the car. “They’re looking at the ground now.”

  Danitha nodded and her face tightened with fear. “Like they tracking somebody.”

  Emily’s stomach clenched at the thought that they’d been followed. But if that were the case, they’d have heard these men behind them. And none of them looked familiar, other than being white, wearing military clothing, and carrying too many guns.

  “They’re militia creeps,” Emily said.

  “Let’s get gone then. Back the way we came. Any which way.”

  Danitha drew in a sharp breath. Emily spun around to see what had startled her. Danitha was a few steps away from the car and turned, so she faced the houses behind them. She’d frozen, half crouched, and Emily saw why.

  At the house two doors down from their position, a small figure perched on the shredded roof. It took Emily a moment to realize it wasn’t a child or even a small man or woman. It was a monster, like the ones the virus made. It tasted the air with its tongue and flicked its head side to side, like a cat sniffing after prey.

  Neither Emily nor Danitha moved, not even to breathe. Finally, the monster crawled to one side, facing away from them. It dragged something behind it, something heavy that was tied to its neck.

  A whistle echoed along the street and Emily’s breath caught on a cry of fear that she only just held in. The monster’s head snapped up and it sniffed the air, then leaped down from the roof to land on all fours. Its joints did that clicking thing that always made Emily want to run and hide. Nothing alive should sound like that when it moved. Nothing but a demon straight from hell itself.

  Emily cowered behind the car, grabbing onto Danitha’s arm and pulling her closer. As she moved, Danitha’s foot scraped across chips of glass on the pavement.

  The monster stopped and twitched its head back and forth again. A whistle echoed once more, and the demon thing crawled forward, across the sidewalk and into the street. A metallic scraping sound followed it. When it passed across Emily’s field of vision, she saw what the monster was dragging: a chain attached to a metal collar.

  Oh no. Oh no no no no no.

  The monster paused in the street again. Emily got a closer look at it, and her heart thudded heavily in her chest as she took in its changed appearance.

  It had a longer face than the first monsters she saw after the virus. Unlike those, this one had a short snout instead of the nearly flat nose and bulging lips. And while this one’s hips moved in a way that made Emily think it could walk upright if it needed to, it was clearly more comfortable on all fours. It held its head above the ground, swiveling left and right as if searching the air for a scent or a sound.

  Another whistle split the air, sharp and angry. The monster’s chain scraped across the pavement as it ran to join its master. The scraping stopped and was replaced by a low whining. It sounded like a begging animal.

  “They made them into pets. Militia dudes made them things into their dogs,” Danitha said.

  Emily shivered next to her and whispered, “They have those things on their side now, mija. If they see us, we have no chance. Stay perfectly still. Don’t move a muscle.”

  A motor echoed from somewhere nearby. Soon enough, the rumble of a heavy truck came down the street, passing right by their hiding place. Brakes squeaked, and the truck idled in the street. A door opened, and feet hit the pavement. A latch was undone, or maybe the truck’s tailgate. Something creaked, and Emily winced at the scraping of the chain again. She had to clamp a hand over her mouth when a man’s voice said, “Here ya’ go, boy. Fresh meat.”

  Steady growling mixed with the sound of chewing and slobbering. Danitha curled up tight against the car and put her hands over her ears. Emily wanted to do the same, but she had to listen to the men. She had to find out what they were doing here.

  Other voices joined in a quiet conversation. Emily strained to hear them.

  “He wants more bats, man. We got plenty of doggies,” one of them said.

  “I know. But I like this one. Go on, boy.”

  Emily heard the man throw something, and the monster raced after it with its chain scraping and rattling across the pavement. The men laughed, and it was the sound of evil relishing in delight at what had happened to the world.

  A door in the truck groaned open, and a new voice said, “Mount up. Wolfpack is heading home. We’ll get the bats another time.”

  “Thought he said he wanted more by tonight,” one of others said.

  “He changed his mind. Mount up.”

  The truck doors slammed shut and the engine started with a deep rumble. Emily risked a look around the car she hid behind. The men were in a military vehicle, a Humvee, but she couldn’t see any of them now. The Hummer drove down the street slowly. She heard them pick up the dog with its chain, and then the engine revved and they roared away.

  Emily and Danitha looked at each other, both too scared to dare utter a sound after what they had just heard.

  — 6 —

  The Six Team vehicle was still in view, but quickly moving to the limit of Jed’s vision. McKitrick had them moving at a good pace down the highway. It was mostly free of debris and vehicles, but now and then she had to slow down and swerve around a wreck, or a damaged part of the road. They stuck to the tracks left by Greg’s people and whoever was driving the station wagon that sped off before the bridges went up.

  Jed sat in the front, scanning their surroundings out to the horizon; Garza and Keoh were in back were doing the same. Mehta was squashed between them his pack on his knees. Parsons was crammed into the rear area with the radio. He kept making checks to see if Gunny or LT were still out there. He’d even tried Jordan’s and Kipler’s squads. So far, he’d got a whole lot of nothing in reply.

  Jed dragged his eyes from the marshland and focused on the roadside, watching for anything that might spell a threat. After the first mile or so, he relaxed and let the emptiness scroll by. If the TOC was gone, and the LT and Gunny with it, the
n he and his squad were on their own. He had a mission to follow at least: find whoever was driving the station wagon. But beyond that his job was to make sure he and his people survived. If they got lucky, maybe they’d run into Jordan or Kipler out here. AWOL or not, numbers meant safety.

  The terrain around them gradually gave way from swampy fields to firmer soil. Birds flew to and from nests among the still-standing electric towers. The air buzzed with insects; whole swarms of them filled the area, wafting up from the bayou terrain.

  “Sergeant, got contact,” Garza said from the back seat.

  Jed turned to look and spotted the figure, a lone person walking through the marshes about twenty yards from the road. He told McKitrick to slow them down to a crawl.

  “Somebody get some binos on that dude,” he said.

  Mehta dug his pair out and handed them to Garza.

  “Maybe a hunter, Sergeant. He’s got a dog with him,” Garza said.

  “Weapons?”

  “Not that I can see, but he could be hiding it. He’s got one arm down, like maybe he’s carrying something.”

  “Fuck it. Nobody we care about. Let’s go.”

  This is some next level bullshit, Jed thought to himself as they got back to rolling down the highway. He had faced bad odds in New York City, but at least then he knew who the bad guys were and how to find them. Or avoid them finding you.

  Up ahead, Greg’s truck disappeared into the haze rising off the bayou.

  McKitrick put on a little more speed. They reached the fork in the highway and veered east, aiming toward Texas City, where Greg had said they might find a military unit. Jed had McKitrick slow down a bit while he sighted through his ACOG, scanning the refinery up ahead. He caught the outline of watchtowers beyond the oil tanks.

  “Keep going,” he said. “Saw some watchtowers that way. Gotta be the garrison Greg was talking about.”

  McKitrick drove ahead for about a hundred yards until they reached another fork. The highway going north was in better shape than the one they were on, but Jed had her continue ahead, aiming at the refinery town and the watchtowers he’d seen. The road took them into the refinery field. McKitrick slowed down as they passed between oil tanks and the pipelines connecting everything in a maze of metal and sand. Some of the tanks had holes in them, like they’d blown up or been hit with some kind of explosive round.

  “You think that was on purpose?” McKitrick asked.

  “Maybe,” Jed said. “People here might have tried to start a fire to keep the sucker faces away.”

  “Think it worked?” Garza asked.

  “Doubt it. The whole place still looks like shit. Sucker faces went through this place for damn sure.”

  As the town came into view, Jed put up a hand.

  “Hold up,” he said.

  The scenery changed up ahead, and in a big way. The nearest neighborhood sat behind a wide perimeter of open ground, and was hardened with twin chain link fences topped with coils of razor wire. Suburban houses behind the wire looked more like camp structures than homes. Obstacles extended across major access points. Watchtowers stood along the fence line, and Jed spotted roving patrols inside the perimeter.

  The neighborhood was definitely rebuilt in places, and hardened. But something felt off about it.

  McKitrick asked, “Anybody know the password—”

  Jed put up a hand for silence. “Take us into some cover, McKitrick. Over there, behind that oil tank.”

  She wheeled them off the road and into the refinery area, bringing the vehicle out of the watchtowers’ direct line of sight. The trade-off was that Jed couldn’t see much of the neighborhood either.

  “Give me the binos, Mehta. I’m sure they’ve seen us already, but they aren’t shooting. I just want to know what we’re walking into.”

  Mehta handed them over. Jed got out and moved up to the oil tank. He crouched and peered around it. The guards in the towers faced his way, but weren’t aiming weapons at his position. Two of them had binos up and were watching him. The ones on the ground walked the perimeter in pairs, casually strolling like Lance Corporals on a fire watch.

  They all wore dark blue fatigues, Navy work uniforms.

  Jed got back in the SUV. “Bunch of dudes in aquaflage,” he said.

  “Navy?” McKitrick asked. “What’re they doing here?”

  “No idea, but they look legit.”

  He hoped he was right.

  Anybody could have salvaged gear from fallen service members or ripped it off from an abandoned supply point. Jed had seen as much happen in New York. But he wanted to trust these people. He needed to if his squad was going to get any kind of shelter or support. At the very least, maybe he could get directions to the Six Team FOB.

  “Parsons, try the LT again. Hell, see if you can raise anybody.”

  After two attempts and no reply, Jed told Parsons to try a frequency they’d used a week ago.

  “Still nothing, Sergeant.”

  “Shit. Okay, y’all. I’m gonna walk us in. McKitrick, keep it slow, about three yards behind me. Anything happens, break for cover. If you have to dismount, stick to overwatch teams. But let’s not expect it to go down. They have eyes on us, too, so keep your weapons loose, fingers off the bang switch, hands in the clear. That goes double for you, Garza.”

  The Lance Corporal smirked, but nodded his agreement. “Roger that, Sergeant.”

  Jed got out and led them around the oil tank. McKitrick coasted behind him. He walked with one hand on the butt of his M4, and the other held out to his side, palm open. As he neared the gate, about ten yards out, he was hailed from a guard tower.

  “Halt and state your business,” the guard said, while aiming his rifle at Jed’s chest. Jed released the butt of his weapon and walked forward, with his hands up and palms out. He was less sure that he’d come to the right place, but figured he’d try the only play he had.

  “I’m Sergeant Welch, USMC from Galveston. We’re cut off. Greg Radout said we should link up with y’all here.”

  The guard relaxed and let his weapon hang as he said something into a shoulder mounted mic. A moment later he called down to Jed.

  “Keep your hands away from your weapons. Tell your squad to dismount and move up closer. Anyone touches a weapon, they’ll be painted hostile.”

  “What the fuck, man? We’re on your side.”

  “Nobody named Greg Radout lives here, and nobody told me anything about the Marines from Galveston paying us a visit again. So, you’re lying, lost, or you’re here to cause trouble. We aren’t taking chances.”

  Jed cursed again, then turned slowly back to his squad. McKitrick had the SUV idling in place about five yards behind him. Garza was leaning out the window, and he had his weapon in his hands. Jed hollered for him to let it go just as the ground between him and the SUV was peppered with small-arms fire from the guard towers.

  — 7 —

  Emily and Danitha waited until the truck motor faded into the distance, and then quickly ran to the nearest house, pushing the rotted door aside and stumbling into the ruins of a family’s home. Trash and filth covered the floors, and the acrid reek of death wafted up from somewhere inside. Danitha retched once and whirled around, fleeing the house. Emily followed close behind, not wanting to lose sight of her again. Not here, and not now.

  Not with those men and their monsters near us.

  “Behind the house, mija,” Emily said, guiding Danitha past wrecked cars and overturned patio furniture. They cut around the neighborhood, avoiding the street and following a shallow drainage ditch behind the houses. Every footfall, every snap of a branch or rustled bunch of grass threatened to freeze Emily in her tracks. She couldn’t shake the feeling they were being chased by a dog monster. The image of the one they had seen burned in her mind like a scene of torment. She wanted so desperately to forget she ever saw it.

  And yet as much as she hated the idea, she had to accept they were a result of the virus that had been released upon the wo
rld. Just like the bats, the dog monsters had evolved after the virus affected their DNA.

  Before Emily had evacuated her university with everyone else, she’d used the last precious minutes of Internet access to read a little of what had been discovered by scientists studying the Variants. CDC researchers on Plum Island had learned a lot about the creatures, and had distributed what they could to other scientists around the world, before the entire information infrastructure collapsed.

  Emily counted herself lucky, having a chance to learn about the monsters at a distance. The first ones to appear were mutated humans, affected by a virus that triggered hyper-rapid epigenetic changes to their DNA. The Variants that followed had been an evolved species, growing from the initial anthromorphs into something far more dangerous to humanity. Other species had been identified as offspring of the Variants, including some ghastly varieties found in Europe. But the bat and dog morphs Emily had seen were clearly evolved from those species themselves, not derivatives or offspring from their human-like ancestors.

  Bats and dogs have a common ancestor. And are more closely related than either is to humans. If the virus evolved to affect either of them, it could, conceivably, have adapted to other species as well. What other horrors are out there?

  With those frightening thoughts racing through her mind, Emily led Danitha closer to the refinery that waited ahead. A wide road divided the overgrown farmland around the neighborhood from a maze of pipes and oil tanks. Garbage and storm debris covered the ground in places, but Emily could see a path into the refinery area.

  The neighborhood ended where the street took a short jog to one side, leading away from the homes and to a gas station that sat against the main road in front of them. They’d have no cover if they crossed from there, and would have to run over open ground just to reach the gas station.

  “What do we do?” Danitha asked. She sounded so exhausted, and that made Emily feel her own aching fatigue weighing her down even harder.