The Dead Years Box Set | Books 1-8

by Olah, Jeff

  Just short of four hours later, the sky decided to open up and finally offer the group some assistance. The downpour began with a light drizzle that fought for dominance with the diminishing fire that had engulfed the three beachside properties. Within an hour and as the rain increased its intensity, the flames were reduced to a handful of lingering spot fires.

  With the sun buried in the western skyline and all forms of man-made illumination fading with the gradual powering down of the generators, Mason stood and moved from the sidewalk. “Brian, can we get the power back on? It looks like that area may have been spared.”

  “I’m sure we can, but what’s the point? The homes were destroyed.”

  Mason turned back to the others. “Randy, your place looks fine and I’m betting you had a backup plan, am I right?”

  His head still buried in between his legs, less from exhaustion than frustration, Randy didn’t look up and didn’t directly address the question. His thoughts rested with the only thing left in his life that mattered. Megan was out there somewhere without him. “We’re wasting time. We need to go, right now.”

  Mason turned back toward Randy. “That’s what I’m getting at. I know you have a stash of weapons buried somewhere for safe keeping. So, let’s get the power back on, put together what we can, and get into the city.”

  “We’re gonna need a vehicle,” Jack said.

  Mason nodded toward Randy’s home. “The SUV still looks to be in one piece. Anyone know where the keys are?”

  Randy finally looked up, stood, and started for his home. “I’ve got a set.”

  Mason, Brian, and Jack followed him through the front yard and quickened their pace as Randy began to jog. They caught him as he reached the driveway and stayed close behind as he stopped at the front door. Before entering, Randy turned and said, “Go get the kid, we’re gonna need him… trust me.”

  “Jack,” Brian said. “Let’s go get the generators turned back on and give these men some light. We can talk to Sean once we’re finished, but Randy’s right, the kid’s gotta come with us.” The pair quickly moved off into the night.

  Following Randy through the darkened front room and into the hallway, Mason slowed. They had yet to dive back into the conversation about heading into the city, although he knew Randy was going either way.

  Mason would follow his friend wherever this led, although he also knew the consequences of heading out into the world with revenge as your only motive. Above all, Mason wanted to protect what few friends he had left… from whatever it was that they were running toward.

  Leaning into the wall, Mason squinted through the darkness. Randy had moved in and out of his line of sight three times, finally ending his trek in the kitchen. Drawers were ripped open and their contents tossed to the floor. Mason counted at least six before the commotion ended and Randy re-emerged with a set of keys in his hand.

  “Let’s go,” Randy said. “The four of us leave now. We can search the city while it’s still dark.”

  “You think that’s an advantage?” Mason asked.

  “You don’t?”

  “Not for us. Listen, whoever came through here last night probably lives in the city and knows their way around. We’d be going in blind. I agree we need to get them, but—”

  “But what, Mason? You said you were going to get our people back. Tomorrow could be too late. What are we waiting for?”

  “You’re right we need to go tonight; although we’re gonna do this the right way. No one else gets hurt… I mean no one. Let’s fuel up the SUV, get Brian and Jack, and see if we can’t put together a few reinforcements.”

  “You mean weapons?”

  “We need to bring whatever we can find. Jack and I were just about spent when we climbed over the wall this morning. I’m praying you did what you always do.”

  Looking back toward the living room, Randy let out a long sigh and nodded his head. “Follow me.”

  Mason stepped aside and let Randy lead him down the hall and into the main room. Pushing aside the oversized ottoman, Randy looked to Mason for help rolling up the twelve-foot area rug.

  Streaks of moonlight filtered in through the large bay windows lining the rear of the home, illuminating the recessed wooden handle. Randy pushed in and twisted a quarter turn to the left. Leaning back, he pulled open the six foot by three foot door. “I believe this will get us where we need to go.”

  Not entirely surprised, although utterly impressed, Mason took a step forward and peered into the four foot deep void. More weapons than he remembered confiscating from Blackmore lined the sides and bottom of the hollowed out concrete slab. The walls painted a deep shade of charcoal, he sensed that this was not just a menial chore for Randy; his friend took time with this hidden masterpiece.

  “Wow, how long did this take? You even took the time to separate the handguns from the rifles. Do Brian and the others know this is here?”

  Still unable to maintain eye contact with Mason, Randy stepped into the pit and grabbed a pair of rifles and two boxes of ammunition. “Brian asked me to keep everything safe and to only allow access if absolutely necessary.”

  Sliding the first rifle over his shoulder Mason said, “Randy, I realize how hard this is—”

  Randy’s face hardened as he lifted his head to meet Mason’s gaze and his voice broke just as he began to speak. “It was her, Mason—it was always her. Whether or not I knew it, my entire life held no meaning before her. I don’t care what happens to me in the process or what I may do to those who’ve taken her. Megan is carrying my child and I’m going to bring her home. I never told her that I loved her… now all I want is the chance.”

  There wasn’t anything he could say that would ease his friend’s pain. Without breaking eye contact, Mason said, “Let’s go.”

  184

  Miniature rivers of rainwater, now littered with ash and soot, pushed into the drain at the end of the street with increased power as the storm intensified. With Lockwood and the others up off the sidewalk and headed for Randy’s home, Brian and Jack picked up their pace and now jogged toward the generators.

  Just beyond the last burned out structure, Brian moved up the driveway. He stepped between two downed trashcans and pushed open the wrought iron gates. Distracted by the enormity of the destruction left behind, Brian tripped over an errant piece of wood left in the darkened space between the two homes. Unable to catch himself, he slammed shoulder first into the concrete like a wet bag of sand.

  Holding back his amusement, Jack hurried to Brian and offered his hand. Brian didn’t acknowledge the gesture and instead rolled to his stomach and pushed off the ground. Both men paused and listened to what they figured to be crashing waves rolling up onto the beach.

  “Wow,” Jack said. “I don’t remember being able to hear the ocean from here.”

  Shaking his head, Brian turned back toward the commotion. “I’m not sure that’s what we’re hearing. We’d better get those generators turned on and head back to the others.”

  Quickly making their way toward the rear of the home, Brian peered down along the moonlit walkway, not quite sure what he was seeing. He knew the generators sat at the rear of the home. They were placed behind a small retaining wall to buffer the obnoxious rattling of the motors from the neighboring homes, although there appeared to be something else. Something blocking his view of the five foot block wall.

  Reaching the corner of the home, both men slowed. “Brian,” Jack whispered.

  “I know, I see them as well.”

  “No… behind us.”

  Not sure what was more urgent, the half dozen Feeders occupying the backyard, who were now aware of their presence or the four headed toward them from the rear. Brian turned back to Jack. “Yeah buddy, we’ve got a bit of a problem. Did you bring a weapon?”

  “Nope, you?”

  “I figured we’d already cleared this area. Follow me.”

  Brian quickly moved toward the six Feeders in the backyard. Within ten feet, he t
urned toward the beach and moved out onto the wooden deck. Jack followed closely as the pair drew the beasts out into the soft sand and ran toward the shore. Thirty feet from the water, Brian stopped and turned back to the house, watching as Jack continued on another ten feet.

  “What now?” Jack asked.

  “Just something Randy and I used to do when stragglers came in off the beach. It takes those things forever to navigate this soft sand and they lose all their mobility… watch.”

  Jack took a few steps forward as Brian took a few back. They watched the ten silhouetted Feeders stumble off the deck and onto the beach. Of the ones who didn’t immediately fall flat on their faces, three of them began to move away from the others.

  Brian turned to a transfixed Jack and tapped him on the shoulder. “Stay here… I’ll be right back. There’s actually an art to this.”

  Brian rubbed his hands together and started toward the small group. Keeping an eye on the first two Feeders, he circled in behind and checked on the others. Slowly making their way along the beach, Brian moved in and pushed them from behind, each one falling forward and writhing in the sand.

  Now facing Jack, Brian pointed at the downed Feeders and yelled something inaudible as the next set of waves battered the shore. As his shouts went unheard, so did Jack’s warnings as another group of Feeders approached from the left. Out of the darkness and seconds from Brian, the small horde would most certainly get to him before Jack.

  Continuing to shout as he ran, Jack could do nothing but watch as his friend was about to be blindsided. Waving frantically, he momentarily grabbed Brian’s attention as the first Feeder made contact. Although their movements were slow and pronounced, the largest of the group hit Brian from behind, lifting him off his feet and down onto the sand.

  Struggling backward, Brian pushed away from the horde only to slide into the ones he knocked to the ground moments before. As Jack began to pull him out of the center of the two groups, he was also dragged to the sand. Moving their way through the clutches of the multiple beasts vying for their next meal, Brian and Jack found themselves back to back.

  Having to shout over the shore break, Jack quickly helped Brian and both men got to their feet. “What the hell are we going to do now?” Jack asked. “And for what it’s worth, your trick of luring these things off the beach is absolute crap.”

  Without turning to face his friend, Brian said, “Not really enough time to argue the point… just push these new ones to the ground and let’s get moving.”

  Brian was right; there wasn’t time to argue… there wasn’t time for anything. As Brian moved away from Jack and lunged toward the remaining Feeders coming at them from the dock, Jack back-pedaled two steps and was caught from the right.

  Struggling to free his pant leg from those crawling on their stomachs, Jack also now fought with those standing. Leaning in, he narrowly avoided shoving his hand into a Feeder’s mouth as he grabbed at the beast’s collar and twisted to the side. Catching his forearm in the ripped fabric of his attacker’s decomposing neck; he was forced back to the ground.

  “BRIAN,” Jack shouted as he fought to break away. “I NEED HELP!”

  With two of his own to deal with, Brian attempted to call out to his friend, although the words never made it past his lips as he lost his footing in the soft sand and with it his position of power. One last wild swing as he fell backward caught the first Feeder along the right side of its head. It fell in the opposite direction, although the one behind it also toppled over and landed squarely on Brian’s legs.

  Both men in the sand, each fighting their own battle, the odds of survival turned in the blink of an eye. Pinned to the ground and holding off one of the smaller female Feeders, Jack began to swallow small amounts of sand as the others piled on from behind.

  Avoiding the clamping jaws of the three larger beasts fighting for him, Brian began to fatigue. Twisting his head to the left, he was about to witness the final moments of his friend’s life. This man, who he knew only as Jack, would die in the same twenty-four hour period as the rest of his people. Brian let every single one of them down and no longer deserved to walk the planet without them. “Give up,” he told himself. “You aren’t worthy.”

  As Jack’s world began to close in and he was no longer able to bear the weight of another body, he spoke to himself. “So this is how it ends. We made it out of the city and fought to keep our relationship a secret from those who protected us, and now we get to die alone and separated. My dearest Elizabeth… wherever you are, please know that I have always loved you and will meet you on the other side.”

  185

  Sitting silently in the dark, she watched the rise and fall of Megan’s back. Cradling her close to her chest, Eleanor listened to the labored breathing of her friend and forced back her emotions. Her hair, although wet and riddled with dirt, still smelled of the lavender scented shampoo she no doubt used shortly before those men broke down their walls and destroyed their way of life.

  As the storm increased its fury, Eleanor prayed for her friend and for the life growing inside her. She asked that Megan be somehow spared from any further torment and that upon waking, the two be allowed to share the confined space. Although not ideal, Eleanor still felt a sense of comfort in having her friend at her side, no matter how short lived it may be.

  Estimating that more than a few hours had elapsed since that man had forced Megan into her cage, the pain in her back had officially become unbearable. Sliding to the side and leaning Megan against the back wall, Eleanor twisted right to left and finally settled on a position flat on her back.

  The rain water ran along the roof of her cage and slowed overhead as it reached a depression near the edge. The gathering water created a shallow pool and then trickled into the open space, striking the ground only inches from her head. The white noise created by the running water, along with the ever so gentle splashes along her cheek, caused her to drift off before the door to the main building nearly exploded off its hinges.

  Eleanor cut her eyes in the direction of the commotion, although she did not move. She stayed on her back, lying upon the wet cold pavement, her knees resting against Megan’s. The first and only man through the door was again the larger man who’d tortured Megan and thrown her into the cage. He walked quickly, not quite running, although much quicker than when he’d left.

  Puddled water splashed from the sides of his boot, spraying into the cages as he approached. Griping the door above her head, the giant of a man bent at the waist and peered into the darkened cage. He looked from Megan to Eleanor and then back again three times before staring down at Eleanor. Her upside down view of him softened his unsympathetic gaze, and almost made him laughable.

  “Get up,” he said.

  She remained on her back and said nothing.

  He looked toward the back of the cage and nodded. “She awake yet?”

  Again, Eleanor said nothing and now closed her eyes. She removed the picture of him that her mind created and brushed the wet strands of hair away from her face. The stabbing pain along her lower back now beginning to subside, she drew in a deep breath and attempted to calm her racing heart.

  “I told you to get up. I meant right now. Let’s go.”

  Nothing.

  “Listen Eleanor, I know you and your group have been through a whole lot and most of you are at your breaking point… but we really don’t care. The man inside has one priority and that is all that matters to us, nothing else. Not you, not her, not any of you. The only reason you’re still here is because we haven’t found the doctor yet. Maybe… just maybe if you help us, you’ll live to see—”

  “Shut up. Please just shut up.” Eleanor struggled to turn on her side and then get to her knees. She paused just long enough to see Megan start to massage her badly bruised temple and then turned back to her captor.

  “Do you really want to die here in this tiny little box? If that’s what you’re asking for, then I seriously doubt you even know who you�
�re speaking to. Eleanor, you need to understand that I have no problem—”

  “That’s the last time. If you want to kill me just do it and quit acting like I should be afraid of you. You can call me lady or hey you or even old hag, but I don’t ever want my name to pass through your disgusting mouth ever again. It’s too good for the likes of you or any of your people.”

  The behemoth leaned to the right, snatched a wooden block from the side of the cage, placed it beneath him and sat. “Fair enough, I’ll grant you this one request. Your name never fit you anyway.”

  Although he appeared to be waiting for a response, she simply stared back in silence. When he didn’t continue, she moved her face to within three inches of the door and shook her head. “Why?”

  “Why, what?”

  “Why does that man in the wheelchair want Dr. Lockwood?”

  “That doesn’t concern you. All you need to do is tell us where he is and then everyone gets to go home.”

  Once again fully aware of their situation and attempting to squeeze around Eleanor, Megan shifted to her knees. Moving forward in an attempt to address the man outside their cage, she winced as the pain in her abdomen surpassed the pounding in her head.

  Eleanor turned away from the man and moved aside. “Honey, you need to rest. You head doesn’t look too good. I’ll see about getting you something to eat.”

  The man laughed as he drew in close and shook free the rain collecting along his right sleeve. “I’ll tell you what. You both can come inside right now and I’ll prepare the meal myself. I just need one bit of information. You both know what it’s going to take to get inside that building. Now let’s play ball… shall we?”

  As the pain began to again radiate from her navel, Megan sat back and drew in her legs. She held her hand out as Eleanor began to respond and instead, wiped back a tear and addressed him herself. “Sir, my father… Dr. Lockwood—”