The Ark Series (Book 2): The Ark of Attrition

by Scott Kotrous

  Maggie does her best to lift her eyes to make very brief eye contact, but then immediately looks down and away. “Well, I think you guys need to go back over there. We’ve given him plenty of time to get in contact with us so something must be wrong.”

  Eric puts his hands on top of his head and pushes himself farther away from the table with his feet. “Alright, if that’s what you want. Nate and I will gear up and head back over.”

  Nate drops his head and lets out a loud sigh. “Dammit.” He looks over at Kristie who’s not saying a word, and not looking at anyone. “Alright, let’s go.”

  They finish eating what’s left on their plates and then get up and walk in the other room. Maggie follows them soon after and walks up to them as they are putting on their snow gear. She picks up their rifles and hands them to them as soon as they’re ready, but this time not helping tape up the gaps in their clothing. They take the rifles from her hands and she pulls a walkie-talkie out of her pocket.

  “Give this to him, but radio me as soon as you establish contact with him, and then come right back.” She look right at both of them and makes sure she makes eye contact this time. “Do you guys understand? You don’t go inside and hang out, you come right back.”

  They both glance up at her but then drop their heads in shame. Eric grabs the walkie-talkie from her hand and nods his head. He stuffs it in his pocket and checks his rifle, and looks over at Nate doing the same. They move to the back door, wait for the steel doors to open, and then quickly exit the house without saying another word.

  As soon as they get outside they notice that its not snowing as hard, and it’s not nearly as cold as last time. They look at each other surprised by the change in weather, hoping it’s a sign of things to come. The trail through the snow they made last time is almost completely filled in, but they decide to go that way anyway, and not bothering with jumping the fence. They make their way around the back gate and into Brock’s backyard and eventually get to his back door. They bang on his door and wait for an answer.

  They hear the same moving around as last time and so Eric yells out. “Brock, open up. It’s Eric and Nate again, open the fuckin’ door!”

  They hear him unlock the door and then open it. They turn to see him standing in the doorway looking pale as a ghost, not even pink in his lips.

  “Holy shit, dude, you alright? You look like shit!”

  He stares at them for a second, not saying a word, just a blank look on his face. He lowers his shotgun and unlocks the storm door. “What’s up.”

  Eric pulls the walkie-talkie from his pocket and presses the button. “Maggie, we’re here with Brock, I’m handin’ the radio off now.”

  Eric holds the radio up to the window, and Brock reluctantly opens the door and takes it, then looks at Eric confused.

  “Brock? It’s Maggie. Can you hear me okay?”

  He looks up at Eric and Nate and then back at the radio, and presses the button. “I can hear you.”

  “Okay great ,Brock, are you alright? We haven’t heard from you so I figured this is the best way to stay in contact. I hope that’s okay.”

  “Yeah, it’s fine . . . so what’s up, Maggie?”

  “Well besides the world going to hell, not much. How you holdin’ up?”

  “I’m alive. So I guess I’m holdin’ up fine so far.”

  “That’s great, Brock. I’m glad to hear you’re doing okay. Hey, listen, if Eric and Nate haven’t left yet can you make sure they’re on their way back?”

  He looks at both of them and tries to hand the radio back. Eric waves it off and lets the storm door close. He watches them scurry off before closing his door and locking it.

  “They just left.”

  “Okay, great. Listen, Brock, I’ve been really worried about Tammy. Eric says you guys got in a fight and she took off for her parents house?”

  “Yeah, that’s right. I haven’t heard from her since.”

  “Ah—okay? Well I’m just confused because she was from Los Angeles and doesn’t have any family out here.”

  After a brief pause of radio silence, Brock finally answers. “Ah—well maybe I was mistaken. I guess she said her relatives or something. I’m not sure, Maggie. Hey listen, I really gotta to go so I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Brock wait—wait—Brock.” But she hears no response. “Dammit!” She looks up at Kristie who looks just as confused as she was.

  “That was really strange, even for a drug addict,” Kristie said.

  Banging on the door snaps them out if their bewilderment, and they rush over to the door and open it. Eric and Nate burst inside and take their hat and goggles off, huffing and puffing and obviously out of breath.

  Eric takes a second to catch his breath and continues to remove his snow gear. “So what did he say about Tammy?”

  Maggie sets the radio down and helps him remove his gear. “He’s fucking lying about something, I know it. Now he says it was her relatives or something, and then immediately said he had to go. Somethin’s not right; he’s hiding something.”

  Eric finishes pulling off the last of his gear and exhales. “The guy looked like he’d been doing coke this entire time, maybe he’s just being a typical addict and not remembering everything.”

  Maggie looks at him and squints her eyes. “Yeah, maybe. Or maybe he’s a fucking liar and he’s hiding something. But who knows.” She turns and walks away and doesn’t say another word. Kristie follows close behind.

  “Maggie, wait!” She turns to look back at Eric. “I just thought you should know that the snow has slowed down. It’s not blizzard-like conditions out there anymore.”

  She bobs her head and uncrosses her arms. “That’s great news. Hopefully the sun will come out and charge the solar panels again because we can run out of reserves any day now.” She again turns and walks away.

  Chapter 15

  Peter awakes from the vibration of the truck shutting down, followed by a whimper from Dusty. The pain in his neck hinders him from fully turning toward Dave but manages to get it around enough to see him putting his coat on. Dusty gets anxious as he continues to whine and look around outside.

  Peter pets him in an attempt to calm him, but it’s of no use. “What’s goin’ on Dave? Why’ve we stopped?”

  Dave continues to put on his gear and then checks his weapon. “We’re here. Get geared up and meet us outside.” He opens the door and jumps out of the cab and slams the door behind him.

  Peter quickly grabs his jacket and frantically puts on his gear. As soon as he’s ready he grabs his rifle and jumps out of the truck, closely followed by Dusty. He walks around the truck while stretching his neck and comes upon Dave, Jason, Kelly, and his dad huddled in a circle discussing something.

  He looks up once he realizes the snow has slowed down. “Holy shit! It’s not snowing as hard.”

  Simon turns to look at his son. “Get over here, son. We were just going over the plan on what we’re going to do.”

  “Ah—okay? Aren’t we just goin’ to bang on this guys front door and see if he’s even there?”

  Dave chuckles a little and nods his head. “Yeah, pretty much.”

  They all check their rifles, comms, and other equipment. As soon as everyone gives the go ahead, they slowly begin to move toward the house. They fan out and scan the area, but see nothing out of the ordinary, and absolutely no sign of infected—alive or frozen—and Dusty hasn’t alerted them to any as well. They get to the snow-covered porch and quickly crouch down against the house.

  Simon goes to bang on the door but stops when he notices the doorbell, and presses it. A pleasant chime can be heard from inside, but nothing else. He presses it again and waits. They hear the sound of footsteps coming to the door followed by a shotgun chambering a round and then followed by silence.

  Simon hesitates for a second and then yells out. “Marshal, Becky, is that you?”

  After a short silence they hear a women’s voice yell back. “Who are you and what
do you want? We are armed and you are not welcome here. Please leave the premises immediately!”

  “Becky, is that you? It’s Simon, Simon Timmons. Do you remember me?”

  “Simon Timmons? You mean Dr. Timmons? Ex military Dr. Timmons?”

  “Yes, yes! Becky it’s me. I’m here with my son and some friends. Please let us in; we just drove up from Golden.”

  The door unlocks and then opens and a large women is standing in the doorway holding a shotgun that she quickly lowers when she confirms who it is. “Well I’ll be damn, please—please, come in—come in.” She opens the storm door and they all funnel in, closing the door behind them. “Well come here and give me a hug, Simon. I haven’t seen you in years.” She hugs Simon and then turns to look at Peter. “And this must be your boy, Peter. My—my, hasn’t he grown into a young man, almost didn’t recognize him. Do you remember me, sweetheart? I don’t think I’ve seen you since your mama’s funeral. You were pretty young so you might not.”

  Peter vaguely remembers her voice, but remembers a much smaller person. “Ah—yeah, yeah, I think I do remember you.”

  “Well come over and give me a hug, sugar.”

  He hesitates for a second but then goes over and hugs her, and is immediately assaulted by her smell, like she hasn’t bathed in weeks. But then again they probably all smell like that and he was just used to the stench. “It’s so nice to see you again, Misses Reynolds. And thank you for allowing us into your home.” They un-embrace, and he steps back.

  “Of course, of course. And please, call me Becky. And who are your friends?”

  Simon begins to take off his jacket. “Oh right, of course, sorry. These are our neighbors, Kelly and Jason Andrews, and his brother Dave. And these two young ladies are Mia and Stephanie Blithe.”

  Becky looks at the girls and then at Simon. “They yours?”

  “No, no. We found these girls sometime along the way. They lost their family, and they’ve been living with us ever since. Oh, and the dogs name is Dusty.”

  Becky smiles at everyone. “Well, God bless. And please, please, take off your jackets and come into the living room and over to the fire to warm up, you must all be freezing. Marshal’s down in his lab and probably doesn’t even know you’re here.”

  They remove their heavy clothes and boots and make their way into the living room and over to the fire.

  Simon warms his hands for a second and then turns around. “I wish I could say this is a social visit, but I’m afraid we came for business and I need to speak with Marshal.”

  “Of course, of course. He’s downstairs, you know the way. In the meantime you folks just make yourselves at home and relax. We’ve got plenty of food and water if anyone needs anything.”

  Simon takes one last look at everyone and then nods his head toward Becky, then turns and walks away. He crosses the kitchen and opens the door to the basement and makes his way down the stairs and into the lab. He sees Marshal in his wheelchair working on something he can’t see. He clears his throat to announce his presence, not wanting to startle his old friend.

  Marshal turns his wheelchair and stares at Simon for a second. “Simon? Simon Timmons, is that you?”

  Simon smiles and walks up to Marshal. “Long time, Marshal. Bet you didn’t expect to see me.”

  Marshal wheels his chair closer and smiles. “Well I’ll be a monkey’s uncle, how the hell are you, old friend! What the hell are you doin’ here?”

  Simon walks over and shakes his hand and then puts his hands on his hips. “Well, like I told your wife, I wish this was a social call but I’m sure you know it’s not.”

  “I haven’t seen you in years, Simon, and you just happen to show up on my doorstep in the middle of a global catastrophe. So no, I don’t think you’re here to catch up. So then what brings you here?”

  “Global catastrophe, what the hell do you mean by that?”

  Marshal turns his head to one side and looks at him confused. “You mean you don’t know?”

  “Know what? We’ve been in my bunker since this all went down, so we don’t know much more than the outbreak that’s turned most humans into the walking dead. So other than that, we’re in the dark.”

  He drops his head and sighs. “Well then, you may want to sit down for what I’m about to tell you.”

  Simon grabs a chair and sits, and Marshal proceeds to tell him how most of the world was destroyed from nuclear war. He knows this because of his very limited contact he’s had in the last six months with the government. Military personnel has stopped by a few times to drop of supplies and samples from the infected. And he’s been studying and testing the samples nonstop for months, but not having any luck.

  Simon concurs that his findings and research has hit the same dead end, and that he’s not even sure anymore if it’s a bacterium. They discuss their research that they were able to do after the Afgan town outbreak, but that neither of them have found anything new from their recent research.

  They talk for hours and go back and forth comparing their research, but unable to gain any new insight. Simon starts to tell him how Peter was unfortunately bit by one of the infected, but hasn’t shown any signs except for heightened aggression when provoked.

  Marshal drops his clipboard and stares at Simon in shock at what he’s just heard. “Wha—what did you say? Did you just say that Peter was bit by an infected, but didn’t change?”

  Simon hesitates before answering. “Ah—yes, Marshal, that’s exactly what I’m saying. And that’s one of the reasons why I needed to speak with you, in the hope that you can shed some light on this.”

  “Oh my god. This—this could be a major breakthrough. Is he here, can I speak with him?”

  “Yeah, yeah. First tell me what you’re thinking, why is this a major breakthrough?”

  “Simon, I need to examine him at once, bring him to me.”

  “Not until you tell me what’s going through your head.”

  “Simon, your son—” He swallows hard and begins to perspire from his forehead. “Simon, your son may be the key to all of this. He could be the one who ends this all.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Simon fidgets in his chair and begins to get agitated. “You need to explain yourself before you go near my son, and you need to do it right now.”

  “Simon, what I’m about to tell you is top secret and cannot leave this room. Do you understand?”

  “Of course I understand, now just tell me what the hell’s going on?”

  “I, of course, won’t be able to determine this until I’ve fully examined your son, but if this is true and he is immune to this, then the government will be very eager to get their hands on your son.”

  “Start talkin’ because you’re makin’ me very nervous.”

  “Alright, alright. Simon, what we’ve been dealing with is a biological weapon called NT-19. It was originally designed by the military in the attempt to create a kind of super soldier. Someone with a heightened state of aggression who would in turn create a human killing machine.”

  “How the hell do you know this!”

  “Because I was one of the founding biologists who helped create this eventual biological weapon.”

  “So what are you saying? Are you telling me that the US government released this weapon on the US population to see what the fuck happened to them!”

  “Absolutely not! Our government may not be perfect, but they’re not a bunch of monsters! We were transporting a large amount of the strain that was in its infant form when it was attacked, and the NT-19 was stolen by terrorist who somehow turned it into what was released on the public; a mutated version of NT-19. They first released it on the Afgan town, and then on the US public.”

  “We created this! Is that what your telling me? We created this shit!”

  “No! What we created was nothing like this mutated form of NT-19. What you don’t understand, Simon, is that the war on terror had gotten so out of hand, and we were losing so many soldiers
overseas that the government had to find a way to level the playing field. The initial concept was to design something that would bond to the human genome and its DNA, to create—”

  “Yeah, I got it. A fucking super soldier.”

  “Yes, a fucking super soldier. Don’t you see, Simon, we were losing the war on terror. Because of our continuous involvement in other countries, we in essence help create a new generation of terrorists. Young boys and girls who were raised, taught, and trained to hate Americans and our allies. By us fighting terrorists, we created more terrorists, perpetuating the problem to the point that the military knew they had to do something. The terrorists had become so unified and organized that they were taking out our soldiers at an alarming rate. And they soon outnumbered our soldiers by a rate of five to one.”

  “This—this can’t be true. Why didn’t we hear about this, why wasn’t the public informed of this!”

  “Because do you really think people would sign up for the military if they knew that they were dying at a rate of almost hundreds a day, sometimes even worse than that. You and I both know that people would stop enlisting, and we would have to go back to the draft, and our government didn’t want to do that. And so NT-19 was born as a way to make a soldier bigger, stronger, impervious to pain, and with a controlled aggression of a rabid animal.”

  Simon gets up and paces the room, trying to comprehend all the information being thrown at him. “I don’t—” He tries to contain his composure. “I can’t believe this could happen. How did this happen!” He looks at Marshal but he just shakes his head and says nothing. “So what would they want with my son, why is he important?”

  “Because your son could be who they’ve been looking for. If the mutated form of NT-19 has successfully bonded with his DNA, then it’s almost certain it would have successfully bonded with the original strain of NT-19 as well. Your son is the super soldier they had been trying to create.”