Extinction Survival Series | Book 4 | Warrior's Fate

by Browning, Walt

  Carver was the first to recover and looked up to see almost a dozen battle rifles aimed at the HUMVEE. He did a quick scan of the people manning the blockade and saw that they were not military. In fact, all had their heads shaved and every one of them was wearing earth-toned robes. Where visible, a battle belt was strapped around their waist.

  “I think we found our grocery shoppers,” Gavin said as he stared out at the roadblock.

  “Everyone keep your hands up where they can see them,” Carver said.

  “What the heck?” Gavin muttered. “Who are these people?”

  “They’re from the Buddhist center,” Pito replied. “There’s one tucked into the mountain behind them.”

  “Now I’ve seen everything. A Buddhist with a machine gun,” Carver said, shaking his head.

  One of the defenders came out from behind the barricade.

  “This should be interesting,” Carver commented.

  He and Shrek jumped out of the passenger’s side door. Carver stepped forward, meeting the Buddhist representative between the HUMVEE and the cars that had been pulled across the asphalt road.

  “John Carver, United States Navy.”

  “Sukah Khami. I am from the Buddhist Center,” she replied while nodding back to the others at the roadblock.

  Behind them was a driveway with an ornate wrought iron gate. In the distance stood a multi-story stone building. It was masterfully constructed and looked like it was a natural extension of the mountainside wall.

  The young woman’s head was clean shaven, and her flowing robe hid her gender. Carver admonished himself for assuming that all of the fighters were men.

  “We are passing through to the coast. We mean you no harm.”

  “That would be a first,” she replied.

  Carver ignored her challenge and continued. “We have scientists from Caltech in the busses behind me. We’re trying to get to Dana Point.”

  She looked beyond Carver to the rest of the convoy, scanning the civilian transports that were interspersed among the military vehicles.

  “I will be back momentarily,” she said before retreating to the barricade.

  Carver moved back to the HUMVEE and stood next to the open driver’s side window.

  “We all right?” Gavin asked.

  “Yeah. I think so. But there’s something strange about this. When I told her we were passing through and we meant them no harm, she said that would be a first.”

  “Bandits? Could they be dealing with that?”

  The Buddhist woman broke away from her group and walked back toward the convoy. “I don’t know,” Carver said, “but we’re about to find out.”

  He stepped out to meet her, Shrek striding along at his side.

  “You said you are with the navy,” she said, more of a question than a statement.

  “Yeah. As much as that means now. Not much of a navy left.”

  “Regardless, we need you to take care of a problem for us.”

  “We’re sort of in a rush.”

  “Please. We aren’t capable of handling this. We need you to take our prisoner.”

  “Prisoner? What did they do?” Carver asked.

  “He was working with the arok.”

  “Arok? What is that?”

  “The devils. The crazed ones,” she said.

  “You have a Variant as a prisoner?”

  “Variant? You mean the devils? No. He is a man.”

  “I don’t understand. The Variants kill humans. We are their food source.”

  “It is best that I show you,” Sukah replied. “Please, follow me.”

  “Just a second. I need some others to join me—if that’s all right?”

  Sukah hesitated, then nodded. “Of course. But just a few.”

  Carver called Elliot, Patel, and Kinney over the squad radio, asking them to join him. He then ordered the rest of the convoy to sit tight and had Gonzalez set up observation positions on top of several of the busses.

  The four, along with the Mal, followed Sukah up the driveway.

  “Explain to us what this prisoner was doing.”

  “He was working with the…what did you call them? The Variants.”

  To their left, inside the shrine’s walls, a lawn of tightly trimmed Bermuda grass spanned the small plateau. It was dissected by a winding stone path with several isolated stops along the trail. Each of these locations had a tile platform or wooden bench, surrounded by flowering bushes and sculpted vegetation. They were the perfect spot for meditation, a fundamental aspect of the Buddhist philosophy.

  She turned off the paved drive and walked toward a small stone structure. It looked like a fancy gardener’s shed. Two other members of the religious clan stood sentinel at the structure’s door.

  She paused a few dozen yards from the guards and turned to face Carver and the others. “Since the infection first started, we have been helping anyone who needed it. This man showed up in town about a month ago. We took him in. We gave him food and shelter.

  “Then, a week after he appeared, he left without saying anything. The following night, the Variants showed up. A giant horde of the creatures descended on the town. They swept through, killing everyone they found. Our group…” she said, sweeping her arm around the mountainside compound, “barely escaped.

  “Many of us had moved into the temple when the infection first started, and it saved us that night.”

  She looked off, tears welling in her eyes.

  “It was near midnight when we were awakened. We rushed down the mountain road. A large propane tank had exploded behind the apartments at the bottom of the mountain. We watched from above as the place burned. The aroks were swarming the residents who had been living there.”

  “You believe this man brought the Variants to your town?” Carver asked. “I find that hard to believe. They would have killed him the first chance they got.”

  “We thought so, as well. The creatures either swept up the living and carried them away or killed and ate them on the spot. All except one. A young girl. She couldn’t have been more than ten years old. She was standing alone on the grass outside the apartment, and the horde just rushed by her.”

  Sukah paused, her eyes suddenly filled with emotion. She squinted back a sob and took in a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” she said, returning to the story. “This is difficult.”

  “It’s all right,” Carver said. He gently put his hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off.

  “No, it’s not just the young girl,” she said. “I know what you’ll do to the prisoner when we give him to you. It is against everything we believe in.”

  “What did he do? Him leaving and the Variants coming the next day could have been a coincidence. What you are asking me to believe is that he was working with the Variants.”

  “That girl we saw, the one the creatures bypassed. The man behind that door…” Sukah pointed at the stone building. “He showed up in the middle of the slaughter and simply walked away with her. The Variants didn’t attack him. They ignored him as he moved among them. They allowed him to take the child away.”

  Carver shook his head in disbelief.

  “Ask him. We did. He was proud of it. He said that he worked for them.”

  “That’s insane. I’ve seen a lot of men break under stress, believe something happened that didn’t, to rationalize their survival,” Carver said. He was still unconvinced.

  “He took the little girl while she was surrounded by the Variants. He just walked up to her and led her away.”

  “But why would he do that? It doesn’t make…”

  Carver stopped talking as Sukah’s eyes began to fill with more tears. Her cheeks reddened as she tried to blink them away.

  “He said that she was his payment for bringing that infected swarm to our town and showing them where we were hiding. We found her body the next day. He did things to her…that were unthinkable. Rape was the least of her injuries. A little girl.” She stuttered. “I have no words.”
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  “If he’s guilty of these things, why was he was bragging about it?” Kinney asked.

  “Our religion teaches rehabilitation,” Sukah replied. “The Buddha tells us that even the most heinous crimes should be met, at the most, with banishment. Anything more is against our core beliefs. So, whatever you have planned, it must be done outside of our grounds. You represent the government, and this is a legal problem that we are not equipped to handle.”

  “So, he probably spent enough time here to know that you wouldn’t do anything to him other than kick him out.”

  “Yes. That seems to be the case,” Sukah replied.

  Elliot had enough. He pushed past the group and strode to the stone shed. “Open it,” he demanded.

  The guards looked at each other, then to Sukah. She nodded, and the metal door was unbolted and swung open.

  The man was sitting with his feet up on a small table. He was reclining back with his eyes closed and hands behind his head.

  “Now, what’re you doing messing with my nap?” he said, completely uninterested in his new visitor.

  Elliot walked into the room and stood in front of the unaware man.

  “Is it lunch time already? Time sure does fly, don’t it?”

  Elliot swung his foot and kicked the man’s legs off of the small table, sending him to the ground.

  “What the hell!” The thug grunted as he tried to pick himself up from the floor. He looked up. The sunlight was beaming in from the open door, framing Elliot’s silhouette. He shaded his eyes, trying to make sense of the new visitor. “Who do you think you are?”

  “I’m your new boss,” Elliot said. “I hear you had a little fling with one of the girls in town. Is that true?”

  The man smirked, his decayed teeth displayed in a cruel snarl. “I had some fun. What of it?” he hissed.

  The captain kicked the man in the jaw, splattering blood and a couple of rotted teeth against the wall. The thug’s head snapped back onto the concrete floor. He moaned while his fingers felt the new open gap in his smile. He spat up blood that had puddled in his mouth.

  Elliot surprised Carver. So far, the man had been almost meek in the leadership department. Elliot often wavered when making decisions and took more time than should have been necessary to make up his mind. The man he saw standing over the prisoner was different.

  “Please!” Sukah cried. “Not here. This is not right.”

  The rapist sneered at Elliot and Shrek barked. A thin knife, hidden in the folds of his pants, appeared in his hand. He lunged at Elliot, who stood just feet away. The blade glinted off the sunlight streaming in from the open door. It rocketed toward Elliot’s stomach. The attack caught them all off-guard. All, that is, except for one within their group.

  Shrek

  The man smells. His body reeks of urine and feces. Its mouth has a vile odor. Not the stench of the asp, but the aroma of rot. He is less than human.

  The man they call Elliot has kicked him to the ground. He says something that angers my squad mates, and Elliot kicks him in the face. He hits the ground with his head, and broken teeth bounce off the floor.

  He has been dominated. He should cower to us.

  But I see his hand move, and a knife appears. I bark. He lunges at Elliot, just a second from sticking the blade into our friend.

  Not while I’m here. Not on my watch.

  I lunge at the man’s hand. I am faster than him. My jaw clamps down on his wrist, and I bite through skin and tendon. I can feel his bone as I snap my neck back and forth. His knife drops to the ground.

  Carver yells at me to release his mangled hand. I do as he commands.

  I look up at Carver and see his approval.

  I will not be tricked.

  I will not lose.

  The man with the bloody hand knows that now.

  I growl at him before I move back to Carver’s side.

  Ever vigilant.

  Always there.

  I never lose.

  It is just who I am.

  Captain Elliot

  Elliot grabbed the stunned thug and lifted him from the floor.

  “My hand!” the rapist whined.

  Blood dripped from several deep punctures. Nerve damage from the bite made his hand spasm uncontrollably.

  Carver grabbed a burlap bag and tore a strip from it. “Can’t have you bleeding all over the place, now can we?”

  He bound the rough material around the man’s wrist.

  “Enough with this piece of shit,” Elliot hissed.

  He grasped the back of the thug’s hair and pushed him out the door. The man tumbled onto the grass, coughing red spittle onto the manicured lawn.

  Sukah cried out and ran to the temple. The two guards followed, although one managed to turn and give Elliot an approving nod before disappearing into the shrine.

  “Come on, pumpkin. Time to face the music,” Elliot growled as he kicked the man in the ass, urging him along toward the front gate.

  They shoved and pulled the rapist out of the compound and onto the mountain road. Elliot grabbed the prisoner by his collar and guided him to the edge of the highway, where a cliff dropped off several hundred feet. The skyline was a picture painting of the Santa Ana Mountains.

  “Hey! Wait!” the criminal protested. “You can’t do this without a trial!”

  “You’re right,” Elliot said before turning to one of his men and yelling. “Get everyone out here, and I mean everyone. Civilians, military. All of you.”

  They all gathered around, murmurs and muted conversations floating between the massed people. Elliot raised his hand to quiet the crowd. Patel added one of her high-pitched whistles, silencing the last of the whisperers.

  “This man stands accused of a crime,” he began before turning back to face the thug. “You have been charged with the rape and murder of a ten-year-old girl. You are also charged with treason for conspiring with the enemy. How do you plead?”

  “You can’t charge me with rape. There were no witnesses. Hell, you don’t even know her name.” He snickered. “I want a real trial with a real judge. Them’s my rights.”

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible right now.”

  “Then we ain’t having a trial, are we?”

  “Did you commit the crime?” Elliot persisted.

  “You ain’t read me my rights. I can say whatever I want, and you can’t use it against me in a trial until you do, right?”

  “You are correct,” Elliot calmly replied.

  “Well then, hell yeah. I had me some young ’tang.” He smirked. “Weren’t my fault she died. I was up for a second round when she kicked it.”

  “And you admit to working with the Variants?”

  “Variants? You mean the infected? Yeah, I did. They’re winning. They’re the new boss. Ain’t no law against that.”

  Elliot turned to the surrounding people. The crowd stood in stunned silence.

  “So, you admit it,” Elliot yelled to the assembly. “You led the Variants to this town, and you killed the little girl.”

  “If they followed me back here…accidentally. Weren’t my fault.” He continued to smirk. “And murdering the girl? Naw. I didn’t mean for her to die. At least, not so quick,” he said with a toothless smile.

  “Then you’re guilty.”

  “I ain’t guilty ’til I get a trial. And you can’t use this against me ’cause I ain’t been read—”

  In one smooth motion, Elliot drew his M9 sidearm and put a bullet in the man’s forehead. The rapist’s eyes had just enough time to register the shot. His condescending smirk disappeared, replaced by shocked surprise. His body collapsed back and tumbled over the edge. No one bothered to see where his corpse finally landed.

  Elliot turned to the crowd and scanned their faces. Most were satisfied that justice had been done. Others were pale at watching a person being executed.

  “That man was tried and sentenced to death for rape and murder. And if it isn’t clear right now, the same
punishment will be meted out if you collaborate with the Variants. How you would do that without becoming their dinner is beyond me, but this man apparently was able to work with them. Any questions?”

  The crowd stood in silence.

  “Then, Chief Carver, we’re burning daylight. Let’s get moving.”

  — 9 —

  Give me six hours to chop down a tree and I will spend the first four sharpening the axe.

  — Abraham Lincoln

  St. Lucy’s Priory High School

  Glendora, CA

  Three Years Later

  “I really appreciate you takin’ me in.”

  “You don’t need to keep thanking us,” Brett replied. “We’re just doing our best to stay alive, and anyone not infected is a blessing for us as well.”

  His name was Roy. At least, that’s what he told Brett Darden a few days prior. Four years had passed since the infection, and over three since Brett’s brother had been lost to the virus that consumed the world. Since then, the enclave at Lost Valley had grown in both size and sophistication. It had to, or it would have been overrun by now.

  The horde of Variants that had chased a small group of indigenous people onto the Boy Scout property three years back had been a wake-up call. On top of that, the merger of the San Diego and Los Angeles Variants into one, giant mega-horde forced the Lost Valley residents into making a choice. Flee to Catalina Island, or fight a guerilla war against the Variants. Many decided to relocate, but a core group remained.

  Today, Lost Valley had more than survived; it was thriving. The key had been changing tactics. They needed to get out of the Valley and reclaim the land. They had to patrol and proactively attack the enemy where and when it made sense, keeping the infected army and its redheaded leader off balance.

  A key aspect of this new tactic was using forward operating bases. They were used to strike out at the Variants while gathering needed supplies and survivors.

  “I can’t wait to get out of here and start my new life. I’ve heard you guys have a nice setup,” Roy said.

  “Yeah. It’s pretty amazing,” Brett said indifferently.