The Dead Years Box Set | Books 1-8

by Olah, Jeff

  Mason turned and started back to the building as the boy’s body went limp and fell backward, out of sight.

  162

  For the remainder of the day and long into the next, no one spoke. Randy and Savannah worked long into the night, freeing the area of any reminders of the past day as Sean scoured the internal systems for the backdoor footprint he originally missed. His father tended to Mason’s shoulder and neck, assuring any chance of infection would at least be avoided.

  By midafternoon, the group had retired to separate areas of the facility. They spent the remainder of the day in seclusion, most contemplating just how they’d gotten here. Mason left his room and asked that Sean leave the other five buildings open. There were a few things he wanted to tend to and took the opportunity to spend some time alone.

  Megan slept in her father’s room until noon the following day. Walking the halls, she avoided eye contact and only stopped once to check on Eleanor before heading to the kitchen. She quickly filled her glass with water before returning to her room and closing the door.

  Randy continued with his regularly scheduled perimeter checks and went about the day without calling attention to the preceding twenty-four hours. After sitting alone in the kitchen and finishing his lunch, he moved to the Command Center to check on Sean’s progress. They spoke of the dwindling resources at Blackmore and the odd coincidence that more than one group had found their way to the mountaintop facility.

  Eleanor’s injury was quickly found to be much less serious than Lockwood originally anticipated. She spent the day alone in her room, rereading one of three books she tossed in her bag the day the infection changed the world. She woke the following morning and began her usual routine. Before making her way into the kitchen, she paused in the hallway. The figure crossing the courtyard caught her eye. She turned and moved to the door and watched.

  He loaded six large plastic containers into the bed of the truck along with three, twenty-foot lengths of chain. He took two weapons, a nine millimeter handgun and a Mossberg 500 pump action shotgun. He also headed back in for three boxes of ammunition. Pulling the truck to the front doors of Building Six, he made three quick trips to the basement before shutting the doors and moving back to the front gates.

  Securing the load, Mason stopped as the sound of approaching footfalls broke his focus. He turned and was initially caught off guard. For the first time in months, Dr. Lockwood walked the courtyard. Mason lowered the tailgate and sat at the edge. “Hey Doc.”

  “Mason… how are you feeling?”

  “I’m good, the shoulder is rock solid. You did a great job.”

  “What are you doing out here? The others are starting to get concerned; we’ve all witnessed you going through a bit of a downward spiral over the last few months.”

  “Hey, those men yesterday… they would have done the same thing—”

  “There’s no question,” Lockwood said. “You acted when it was needed and we are all still alive here today, because of you. We all recognize that.”

  “I don’t see the problem. I did what was necessary.”

  “Mason, we are concerned because of the way that it’s affecting you.”

  “It isn’t,” Mason said.

  Lockwood leaned in, and put his hand on Mason’s shoulder. “That’s why we’re concerned. You need a break. You’ve been through and seen too much.”

  “Not gonna be possible, Doc. We all have jobs here. Mine is to protect everyone in that building. You have a job. Randy has a job, hell even your son has a job. We all do what’s required to survive; I don’t have the luxury of taking a break. I slack on my responsibilities and people die, plain and simple.”

  “That you want to protect this group is admirable, we all—”

  Interrupting, Mason said, “Doc, I’m sorry but there’s a question that I just keep coming back to.”

  “Yes…”

  “Why on earth do you think these people keep showing up here, how would they have even known—”

  “Marcus Goodwin,” Dr. Lockwood said. “He had many adversaries and back before the infection, he’d brag to whoever would listen about the fact that he’d built this place. I’m surprised we haven’t seen more of his visitors.”

  “Then we need a better plan.”

  Lockwood paused a moment before saying, “Mason do you trust me?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Good,” Lockwood said. “I do have a plan and I’ll need your help.”

  “Listen, can we do this later? I’m in the middle of something.”

  “It looks like you’re going on a supply run… alone?”

  “We knew this day would come. I’m going to scout a few places in the valley, see what they have. You know better than I do that our medical supplies are extremely low and if we have another run-in like the one yesterday, we may be out of luck.”

  “I’ll tell you what… come inside, listen to what I have to say and if you still think it’s worth it, then I’ll make sure you at least get some help out here. Just hear me out, five minutes.”

  “Five minutes and not one second longer—”

  Sean burst through the door to Building One, his head on a swivel tracking side to side, finally resting on Mason and his father. His face ashen and his arms trembling, he forced the words out. “There’s a phone. Someone is out there. The phone rang. Another group of survivors.”

  Mason jumped to his feet and started toward the building, followed closely by Lockwood. Reaching Sean, he handed Mason the oversized phone and turned to his father. Mason held it to his ear and walked in a circle. “Hello… hello? Sean, all I’m getting is static, what did you hear?”

  “They’re out there, I know it. I was sitting at the desk and heard a phone ringing. I finally found it attached to its charger inside the back cabinet. A man’s voice, he said he was with—”

  Mason held his hand up as he walked back toward the building. “Hold on a minute, I can barely hear you.” He moved in through the back door, into the Command Center and scrambled for a pen and paper.

  “No… no he’s not here. We are all that’s left. I am his son-in-law and his wife is here as well.”

  Mason sat at the desk near the door and looked out into the hall. “Ok, go ahead.” Pinning the phone to his ear, Mason scribbled out a few lines and a couple of numbers. “Yes, I’m not sure of our coordinates, although we are probably a few hundred miles north of you… yes, in the mountains.”

  “Yes, we are at Blackmore.”

  Mason jotted down a few more pieces of information as Sean sat at the main computer and began running through the archived folders. Lockwood stood in the doorway as Randy, Savannah, and Eleanor looked on from the opposite side of the window.

  Sean tapped Mason on the shoulder and pointed to his monitor. Leaning away, he watched as Mason made a few more notes and gave him a thumbs up.

  Garbled voices filtered through the phone and then trailed off as Mason looked around the room. “Yes, please… we will be here.”

  Eleanor and the others entered the room as Mason set the phone on the desk. He took a few additional notes and turned to his friends. “There are others out there, good people just like us, trying to survive.”

  “So,” Sean said. “You told them where we were? How do you know they aren’t—”

  Mason interrupted, smiling at his mother-in-law. “Eleanor, do you remember the name Brian Hunter?”

  She matched his smile. “Was that him, is he alive?”

  “Yes… he and his family are part of a group of twenty-one survivors. They’re coming here.”

  163

  Four months had come and gone since the two groups had agreed to meet and sitting upright on the desk, just under the monitor, the phone sat lifeless. He checked it again. And once more before holding it skyward and then walking to the rear door. He punched in the number three and watched the screen come to life. Plenty of charge and a strong signal. Mason looked over the screen and walked back to the Command
Center.

  “They’ll call,” Savannah said. “They always do. I’m sure it’s just taking them a bit longer to get up the main highway.”

  “Sure, I’m just ready to get off this mountain.”

  “You’re funny, Mason. Four months ago, Lockwood brings up the idea of leaving and you almost tear his head off; now you actually want to leave? Are you sure, after everything that’s happened here?”

  “A big part of my life was destroyed nine months ago. The day April and Justin were taken from me was the lowest point in my life. I need to move forward for them… for me.”

  She leaned back in her chair and avoided eye contact. “You think leaving here will get rid of the bad dreams, help you sleep at night?”

  “You know about that?”

  “Everyone knows,” Savannah said. “They’re just not sure how to help, so they don’t say anything. I wasn’t going to bring it up, although I can’t seem to keep my mouth shut to save my life… plus I can’t stand to see you out in the courtyard at two in the morning. It kind of freaks me out.”

  “You’ve seen me?”

  “Every night.”

  “The others,” Mason said. “Are they just as worried as you?”

  “Worried? I never said I was worried. It’s just that… well, you know. The window in my room overlooks the courtyard and when I wake up in the middle of the night and see you out there, it looks pretty bad. You need sleep, we all do.”

  “I’m fine, you all know that. I’ve been much better these last few months. Waiting for the others to get here and prepping to leave has been good for me.”

  “You think Lockwood’s plan is going to work? Our own little community… both groups living so close together and sharing resources?”

  He checked the phone again, looked back up and said, “I’m sure it won’t be easy, although once we secure the area, everything should flow pretty well. It’ll add numbers to our little group and in time make us all stronger.”

  “No downside?”

  “I’m trying not to think about all the things that could go wrong. There are plenty of reasons this won’t work. We just need to remember the one reason that it will, and remind ourselves of it every single day.”

  “And what reason is that.”

  “That we are still here,” Mason said. “We need to make this work for those that are gone. We owe it to them.”

  They sat in silence for a moment and as Savannah shifted in her seat, Mason moved to the computer and tapping the keyboard, brought it to life. He moved through the cameras that serviced the perimeter of Blackmore, stopping at the gate. He sent the feed to the massive screen hanging on the wall in the middle of the room and turned back to the door as Sean entered the room.

  “You playing with my equipment again?”

  “Your equipment?” Mason said.

  “If you can show me one other person inside this building that can even turn on the lights, I’ll make you lunch for the next month.”

  Holding her hand over her mouth, Savannah held back her laughter as Mason shook his head, grabbed the phone, and gave up his seat to Sean. “How about you make my lunch every day for the next six months and I’ll give you a break from the constant reminders about your sister and Randy.”

  He didn’t look away from the monitor; Sean instead continued with his daily ritual. “I already told you, it doesn’t bother me. I like Randy, he’s a nice guy. You, on the other hand, have become annoying. You know, I think I hear my dad calling you. He needs help with… something.”

  “So, that’s a no to the lunches?”

  “Sorry, I can’t hear you,” Sean said. “I’ve got too much work to do today. Although if you’d like to chat later this afternoon, I could use a little help.”

  “Help?” Savannah asked. “You’re asking Mason for help with something, this should be good?”

  “Don’t get too excited. I just need help getting this equipment to the truck. I’m taking as much of this stuff as I can.”

  Mason turned and walked to door. “Are you even gonna have a use for that stuff once we get there? I mean, we’re not even sure there’s power in the city.”

  “I guess I’ll find out when we get there.”

  Savannah stood and joined Mason at the door. “Sean, if you need some extra help, I’ll be around. You know where to find me.” She stepped into the hall, brushed along Mason’s left side and kept moving down the hall. “Sorry about the shoulder.”

  “That was like four months ago, and actually it was the other shoulder, but nice try.”

  As he watched her disappear down the hall, the low hum of an engine poured from the overhead speakers. Turning to Sean, they both watched as the screen momentarily dimmed and then refocused on the first vehicle. “Sean, go get the others… I think our guests have arrived.”

  164

  A year ago, Mason would have opened the gate and welcomed his new guests without so much as a few pointed questions. Today was different. Attacked more times than he could count, the group had grown jaded toward strangers. Even having more than thirty conversations with these people over the last four months, Mason wasn’t willing to take any chances and the people he was about to meet for the first time knew this.

  He’d warned them that upon arrival at the gates, the first few hours would be a bit awkward. Mason and the others had no reason to trust the newcomers. Other than a voice at the end of the line and a past friendship, they knew nothing of these people. Handshakes and pleasantries would have to wait. Today they needed to prepare for the trip to the ocean.

  Savannah alerted the others and joined Mason at the rear doors. They readied their weapons and reviewed the plan for approaching the gate. “Sean, Eleanor, and Dr. Lockwood will be in there,” he said, pointing at the Command Center. Sean knows to wait for the signal before opening the gate and remember we’re only letting one vehicle in at a time.”

  “How many are there?” Savannah asked.

  “Last conversation, there were eighteen. They lost three more a few days ago, when they stopped to make a run for food.”

  “Their weapons?”

  “We’re going to lock them down in the SUV until we leave. That’s where I’m sleeping tonight. They already know the drill; their weapons are to be either in the back seats or trunks of their vehicles when they arrive. According to Brian, they are extremely low on ammunition and weren’t even sure they’d have any left by the time they got here.”

  “Okay,” Savannah said. “So, we escort them in?”

  “Yes, you and I will. And, once they’ve pulled into the courtyard, Sean will close the gate. I’ll direct in and have them exit their cars. You can secure the weapons in the back of the SUV and, then on to the next. We’re doing this one vehicle at a time.”

  “How many?”

  “Four,” Mason said. “A large delivery truck and three cars. They know we’re going to pat them down before we have them gather near Building Two. Once we’re comfortable, we’ll bring Eleanor, Sean, and the others out for a meet and greet.”

  “Once we’re comfortable?”

  “Okay, once I’m comfortable… comfortable that these people don’t pose a threat, that I’ve taken the steps to assure our safety, and not one second before.”

  “Randy and Megan?”

  “On the roof, just as a precaution,” Mason said. “They need to spot anything we may not; also they’ll be watching the cars outside the gate as we tend to business inside.”

  “Wow, you’ve taken this to a whole new level. You sure you weren’t some sort of an efficiency consultant in a former life?”

  “I’ve had time to think this through over the last four months. I don’t want to regret the decision I made allowing them to come here. The day after the first phone call, I’d almost wished we hadn’t answered. I figured it may just end the same way it always does.”

  “Why the change of heart?” Savannah asked.

  “I haven’t really had time to think about it. Although Loc
kwood did convince me of the fact that we’d be lucky to survive another winter here, and that the old saying that there’s strength in numbers may just hold true. That is if these people are who they say they are.”

  “If not?”

  “Well, I guess we are about to find out.”

  Nodding to Randy and then turning to the camera, Mason gave the thumbs up. He stood directly in the path of the former pastry delivery truck, turned survivor transport vehicle. Gripping the AR-15, he took three steps back and watched as the massive gates parted.

  As the trucked rolled slowly forward, he was only able to make out two individuals. One in the driver’s seat, who he assumed to be Brian, and a woman in her mid-thirties, leaning into the dashboard and staring out over the courtyard. He was told the truck would be carrying the first eight survivors, the others spread among the last three cars.

  Mason gave instructions that the driver should exit first and walk to him. The others would be called out one at a time, checked and then given the green light to proceed. As the delivery truck cleared the entrance, Mason gave Sean the signal to close the gates as the next vehicle approached.

  Mason looked to the roof. “Randy, I’m taking them back, we good?”

  Randy shouted back, “Everything looks to be in order.”

  The driver followed Mason past Building one and parked along the East wall. He exited and closed the door behind him.

  Brian Hunter. He was recognizable, but just barely. A good thirty pounds off his rugged six-foot frame placed him somewhere south of one-hundred-sixty pounds. His blood-soaked t-shirt spilling out from under the scorched denim jacket told Mason everything he needed to know about the group’s previous travels.

  Walking with a slight limp, Brian held both hands in the air as he continued toward Mason. Attempting a smile, he moved deliberately across the courtyard, slowing as he reached Mason. His voice hoarse, Brian spoke before Mason had the chance. “Mason, we are all extremely thankful for your generosity. I give you my word that we will earn our keep and won’t be a problem.”