The Dead Years Box Set | Books 1-8

by Olah, Jeff

  “What’s that all about?” Savannah asked.

  Megan leaned in. “He’s probably still trying to get Mason to calm down a bit.”

  “Megan,” Sean began, “I’m not sure Mason needs to calm down. Do you realize what’s happened to him and his family? Just because I can’t bring myself to do what needs to be done, doesn’t mean I agree with Dad. That man deserves to die. If it were up to me, I’d open the basement and let Mason do what he wants, although…”

  “Although what?” Eleanor asked.

  “My dad made me promise I wouldn’t open Building Six until he told me it was time. He hates that man as much as the rest of us, although I think there is something bigger he’s thinking about, he just hasn’t shared it with the rest of us yet.”

  . . .

  “Yes, it does make sense,” Mason said,” But there is no way to tell how long it’s been and with the sun going down in the next hour or so, we may not locate one at all.”

  Randy shook his head. “I can guarantee there is no one on the other side of the wall that was human within the last few days. It would be impossible to tell.”

  “Men,” Dr. Lockwood said. “We may have to go outside this facility. If it takes days or even months, it would all be worth it. Also, there’s the possibility that one of those men from the overpass may have unfortunately changed. If we take reinforcements back there, we might be within our window.”

  Mason turned and started for the door. “Doctor, you’ll have your candidate within the hour. Is that enough time for you to prepare?”

  “What are you doing Mason?”

  Mason stopped in the hall and rapped his knuckles on the window to the Command Center as the group stared in silence. “Keep this door locked,” he said before turning back to Lockwood. “I’m going to fix both of our problems, now go back to The Cage and get ready; you’re about to save the world.”

  “Mason,” Randy said. “What’s going on?”

  “Follow me.”

  The pair exited the building and with Randy close behind, Mason moved to the rear of the facility. They stopped short of Building Four, and locating the camera that covered the area, signaled for Sean to open it up. Thirty seconds later, the airlock disengaged and the men entered. Walking quickly, he avoided Randy’s questions and instead kept an eye out for what they’d come for.

  Mason figured the multiple ten foot lengths of chain and two padlocks they carried would be more than enough. Realizing everyone back at the Command Center, including Lockwood was watching their every move; they stopped at the entrance to Building Six. Once again signaling for Sean to work his magic, he only half expected to be granted access this time around.

  Rubbing the back of his neck, Randy appeared somewhat confused. “What exactly are we doing?”

  “Lockwood said we needed a Feeder who’d turned within the past two hours. That’s the only way it would be useful to him.”

  “Yeah?”

  Mason handed Randy one of the chains. “And that’s what I’m going to give him.”

  “Goodwin?”

  “You got it. I get what I want, Lockwood saves the world and we’re all happy.

  “Lockwood saves the world?” Randy asked. “Little dramatic don’t you think? He said he wasn’t even completely sure it would work. And what are you gonna do… throw Goodwin over the wall and hope to get him back before the horde tears him apart?”

  Unexpectedly, the double doors at the entrance to Building Six clicked open. Mason reached for the handle and held it open for his friend. “Not exactly, just bring Goodwin to the courtyard and make sure he stays coherent. I want him to feel this.”

  Randy took three steps into the building before stopping and looking back. “What about William’s body?”

  Running his hands through his hair, Mason felt the air escaping his lungs and the pressure building. “I’m going to take care of it tonight.”

  “I’d like to help… If that’s okay?”

  “Sure thing, I appreciate it.”

  Sitting where they’d parked it at the rear of the facility, Mason walked quickly to the forklift and jumped in behind the wheel. He cranked to life the engine and tore across the rear lawn. Moving in parallel to the wall, he positioned the forklift just left of the gate. He wrapped a length of chain twice around his torso and with the padlock created a loop at the opposite end. “This better work.”

  He climbed atop the forklift and sat on the top, bracing his feet against the interior edges of the block wall. Securing the chain to the forklift, he took the loop and waited for the horde to begin moving his way.

  Within seconds he picked his target, a female Feeder who’d suffered very little decomposition and appeared to walk at a steady clip. She couldn’t have weighed any more than a hundred pounds soaking wet and was perfect. He waited as she clawed at the wall and fought with the others for position, finally moving in under where Mason sat.

  “This is it.” He tossed the chain down over her head and as she fumbled with the others to break free, Mason rose to a standing position. Leaving one foot on the wall and placing the other on the forklift for balance, he pulled. The chain locked under her arms and forced her up and out of the crowd. Mason pulled again, forcing her to the right and over the wall. She landed flat on her back, squirming to right herself as Mason jumped down from the forklift.

  Mason raced in and grabbed the length of chain, removing the far end from the forklift and continually forced the Feeder to the ground with short aggressive pulls. Behind him in the courtyard, Randy had a similar approach and with the chain locked around Marcus Goodwin’s waist, he dragged the badly beaten man along the grass.

  Within yards of one another and without warning, Mason forced the Feeder toward Goodwin as Randy stepped aside and dropped the chain tied around his prisoner. He was much too weak to fend off her attack and although he attempted to back away, she pulled herself up over him and with one bite she served her purpose.

  The first sound either man had heard from Marcus Goodwin, other than the reflexive grunts he let out as he was pulled from the basement, sounded like a wounded animal. He wailed as the female Feeder tore into his lower arm and pulled back an eight-inch chunk of his forearm. Going back multiple times, she shredded both arms and also his hands as he fought to block her attack. He was losing.

  As his resolve began to weaken, and his pursuer became all the more aggressive, Goodwin stopped fighting. His hands fell to his side and as she came in for a final act of carnage, Mason dug in and pulled her away. Incensed, she continued pulling toward the devastated man, oblivious to the fact that Mason had dragged her back to the wall. With the horde still focused on the area where he’d pulled out one of their own, he quickly unlocked the gate and tossed her back out amongst the others.

  . . .

  Returning to the courtyard, he stared at the man flat on his back with no visible signs of life left in his destroyed body. He looked to his friend. “Is he gone?”

  “I don’t know,” Randy said. “But we should probably get him to Lockwood, like right now.”

  Watching for another ten seconds and with no rise or fall of his chest, Mason knew it was indeed time to get Goodwin inside. Randy searched for a spot along the arms that hadn’t been ripped clean and Mason grabbed fistfuls of his pants. They hurried along, realizing what the others must have just witnessed. Upon entering Building One, they weren’t surprised at the stunned looks they received, including from Lockwood, who followed them back into The Cage.

  His voice shaking, Lockwood addressed the men. “Is this what you thought I was asking for? For the life of me I cannot…”

  Interrupting, Mason matched Lockwood’s intensity. “Listen… I’m not going over this man’s long list of crimes again. I take full responsibility for him being in this room; I don’t care what you saw on that monitor. It was all me and if I’m correct, he’ll be turning anytime now. This may not have been what you wanted, although it IS what you needed. Now…do what we risked
our lives bringing you here for.”

  Shaking his head, Lockwood reluctantly pointed at the table. “Strap him down and leave me to it. I don’t want anyone in this room after you leave. I’ll let you know when I’m done.”

  152

  Over the next six hours and into the night, the men cleaned up the tragedy that was Building Six. Randy took to the first floor as Mason stacked pallet after pallet as far into the hidden corridor as he could, completely eliminating any entry to Blackmore from the lower elevations of the mountain.

  Upon exit, they carried their fallen friend to an area alongside Mason’s family. The pair worked in silence under only the light of the moon, preparing William’s final resting place. Once their work was complete, Randy made his way back into the main building and woke Savannah whose day had claimed defeat. They walked arm in arm to Mason, who sat beside his friend’s grave, with a smile that condemned his grief.

  “You know,” Mason said, “when I met him, he was being chased by a Feeder and I offered to drive him home. Less than twenty four hours later, he saved my life for the first time. Not two weeks later, he saved multiple lives here, once again saving me. He was there for me, every… single… time… I needed him. I only regret not being here for him when he needed me the most. William, I am sorry. You are a hero… I love you brother.”

  Over the next few hours, the trio talked of the memories they shared with their friend and also some of the more intimate conversations they’d cherish. Tears were shed and observations of their future together were forecast as eyelids grew heavy and one by one they returned to the building, longing for a new tomorrow.

  Mason was the last to take leave, and upon entering the building was met by Lockwood and Randy. They moved to The Cage and it was apparent that Marcus Goodwin had finally become one of the many sadistic monsters he helped create. Thrashing about under the restrains, he growled and snapped at the men, even as they stood over ten feet away.

  “Doc, are you done?” Randy asked. “Did you get what you needed?”

  “I was able to get what I was after, whether or not it works remains to be seen.”

  Mason moved around the others and stood just behind Goodwin’s head. He reached down, much to the dismay of Dr. Lockwood and while avoiding his snapping jaws, pulled open his eyelids revealing the milky whiteness that told Mason he was ready. “I’m taking him.”

  “What are you talking about?” Randy asked.

  “I’m going to rid this mountain of Marcus Goodwin… once and for all.”

  . . .

  With the body still strapped to the table and loaded into the bed of the truck, Mason drove through the front gates of Blackmore… alone. With sunrise still a few hours away, the early morning air was crisp and his lack of sleep over the last twenty four hours had begun to battle with his senses. Windows down and the outside temperature leveling off, his breath shot plumes of white smoke about the cabin.

  The slow trip down the narrow mountain road led him back to the main highway as he looked for a proper spot. The valley floor was eerily quiet as he pulled to the shoulder and sat watching the first hints of sunlight make their way to the horizon. Reaching into the passenger seat, he took with him the nine millimeter pistol and the oversized hunting knife as he finally stepped out onto the packed dirt below.

  Unemotional and resolute, Mason hopped into the truck bed and sat next to the Feeder who’d taken more lives than he cared to acknowledge. As the monster that was once Marcus Goodwin thrashed about, desperately fighting to free himself, Mason spoke calmly. “I know you won’t understand this, but this is not for you or about you any longer. This world is done with you, my friends and I have made sure of it and your legacy ends today.”

  Mason raised the weapon and sitting forward, placed it against the top of Goodwin’s right foot. With one shot he tore the man’s foot in half. “I’m never going to put a bullet in your brain. Yesterday it was the only thing I wanted, but that would be too easy and you don’t deserve easy. You deserve to stay here and suffer… like this.”

  The sound in the distance was unmistakable. As he anticipated, hundreds of Feeders from farther along the interstate started their slow march in his direction. Before cutting the straps that bound his ankles, Mason used the second round to obliterate Goodwin’s other foot, assuring the creature would never again stand on two feet. He would have to spend whatever time he had left on this planet crawling on his hands and knees.

  With the massive horde not more than a few hundred yards off, he cut free both of Marcus Goodwin’s arms and kicked him from the bed of the truck. Mason Thomas leaned over the edge, peering down at the beast unable to right himself. “This is your home, this is where you belong.”

  153

  Twelve Months Later…

  The fences grew twelve feet out of the sand and dead ended into the ocean. The block walls enclosing the small community felt less and less obvious as the days turned to weeks. The military style vehicles and new neighbors walking along the sand no longer startled her. She sat on the deck of her father’s home, watching the man she’d come to love walk the perimeter with her younger brother.

  The last eleven months hadn’t been easy. The long winter at Blackmore, sporadic electrical failures, the courtyard being breached multiple times, and the early morning rousing from the men who tore the facility apart looking for Goodwin tested the group’s resolve. The last day on the mountain came as surprise, as the group of survivors Mason had been communicating with finally showed up and with them, another sixteen friends. At the urging of her father, they all returned to his ocean front neighborhood and with the others, began to fortify the area.

  Sliding back into the lounge chair, she smiled as Eleanor sidled up and handed her a warm cup of coffee. “Megan, how are you?”

  “I’m good, thank you. I just spoke to Dad; although I don’t know how much longer that satellite phone is going to work. It had a pretty bad connection this morning.”

  “Where are they?”

  “My dad says they will be in Portland later today and are going to meet with the others tonight. That many scientists in one room will be interesting, but Dad says there appears to be hope. Not anytime soon, but one day.”

  “Mason?” Eleanor asked. “Is he ok?”

  “Yeah, he and Savannah are fine. My dad told me that the group that they are traveling with are good at what they do. They’ll be safe.”

  “And how about you and Randy… How are you two doing?”

  “I can’t stop smiling when I look at him, everything we’ve been through and now this.”

  Eleanor took a deep sip of her coffee. “And now what?”

  Megan rubbed her belly as she set her cup of coffee aside and smiled at Eleanor.

  “You’re pregnant?”

  “Just peed on the stick this morning and if it’s accurate I am... Randy is so unbelievably happy. I’ve never seen him like this.”

  Eleanor got out of her chair and moved to Megan, wrapping her arms around her. “Congratulations, I am so very happy for you both and you know I’m here for anything you need.”

  Megan shifted in her seat. The expression on her face changed. “Eleanor, it’s been a long time and I’m scared. I’m scared of what this world is and what will happen to my baby. Do you think things will ever get back to normal?”

  “I don’t know, although things are better now and they get better every day. I think right now that’s all we can hope for.”

  End of Book Five

  The Dead Years

  Book Six

  HOMECOMING

  154

  Twelve Months Ago…

  They sat together for the third time in as many days. The settings were arranged, meals were prepared, and normal conversations were attempted. The end of the world made an odd backdrop for their outwardly traditional family meal. Only this was a tradition built on pain, inspired by regret, and forged from the horrific images of the month-long battle it took to get here.


  Mason stood quietly in the hall and watched as Savannah, Megan, and Randy moved through the kitchen without making eye contact. They each preformed their decided task without uttering a word. In the last seven days, this group laid to rest six beloved family members. As the world beyond their four walls turned from a rustic green to a blinding white blanket of snow, the group struggled to find a routine.

  The door to the Command Center parted and Sean craned his neck into the hall. The crooked smile plastered across his face contradicted the troubled appearance Mason had seen him display in the preceding two days. Raising his eyes to Mason, he paused for a moment before speaking. “Mason… I’ve got something weird to show you.”

  “Weird huh; is this something Randy and I are going to need weapons for?”

  “I don’t think so, not yet anyways.”

  “I’ve found something on the monitors that’s pretty unusual.”

  Mason peeked into the kitchen one last time and then down the hall, eyeing Dr. Lockwood as he continued to tend to his files in The Cage. Pushing away from the wall, he turned into the Command Center and saw that Sean had already cued up the video feed and had a seat waiting for him beside the bank of six monitors.

  Melting into the high back chair and rubbing his eyes, Mason said, “Alright, what is it you find so unusual?”

  Rolling back the footage, Sean pointed out the large group of Feeders just beyond the rear wall. “See how many there are and how they seem to be concentrated in that one area?”

  “Sure,” Mason said.

  “Okay, now watch as I let it play.”