Survivors: Deluge Book 3: (A Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Survival Story)

by Kevin Partner

  Rath shook his head. “Unlikely, especially given that the first attacks took place at IP addresses that tied in with the believed location.”

  “I tire of this, Rath. I have much to do, as you know. What is your analysis?”

  “That he is attempting to escape us. He is currently using satellite communication which is assigning a local IP address that appears to be over what is now open ocean.”

  “So, he’s on a boat.”

  “That is my guess.”

  Lundberg sighed. “If he is on the move, then triangulation is no longer an option. We need boots on the ground.”

  “I will inform Helmut.”

  Lundberg returned to her work then, as Rath reached the door, she said, “What do you guess to be his heading?”

  “Oklahoma City. It is the nearest large city above water to the west. A good place to get lost in.”

  “If he believes he’s being followed.”

  “Indeed. Hopefully he does not.”

  She turned away. “Tell Helmut to leave in the morning. He may take a security detail if he wishes.”

  “I think he will go alone. That is his way.”

  “Then sobeit.”

  Rath shut the door and made his way to the security chief’s office. He found the big man leaning back in his chair reading a book.

  “Ah, Frederick. Did you know some fools believe that Shakespeare did not write his own plays?”

  “It is a respectable theory,” Rath said, settling into a chair on the other side of the table. “Shakespeare was a man of the country, and yet he demonstrates prodigious knowledge of politics, the ways of the nobility and even foreign places. Marlowe would be a better candidate.”

  Helmut dropped the book on the desk and restored his chair’s balance. “Except he was dead. It is hard when you are dead to write.”

  “Indeed. And it is hard to spread…lies when you are dead also.”

  “So, she wants me to go after him now?”

  Rath nodded.

  “Wo und wann?”

  “Baxter seems to be on a boat heading for Oklahoma City. The western half of the city is aboveground. It seems likely he is heading west, though we cannot guess where. Perhaps to find his brother. He is an actor, so he might have a home near Hollywood.”

  Helmut chuckled. “I will catch him in Oklahoma City. When do I go?”

  “Tomorrow. Will you take others or go on your own?”

  “Helmut works best alone. Am I to bring him back for questioning?”

  Rath shook his head. “If you can, but if not, you are to kill him. That is what Lundberg has ordered. But try to bring him in, Helmut, he has a good mind and an honest nature.”

  Helmut snorted at that. “Ha! Give me stupid and bent any days. They are easy to deal with. A conscience is a burden.”

  “Indeed, my friend. It is your greatest weakness.”

  “Perhaps, but I follow orders. If I cannot bring Baxter back, then he will die.”

  Chapter 5

  Eve

  They drove a hundred miles in the battered pickup they’d taken from Edwards before the thing gave up the ghost. Steam billowed from under the hood as the engine seized, bringing them to an unceremonious stop.

  Bobby swore as he guided the heap of junk to the side of the highway. They’d seen other cars along the road, some of which had probably suffered similar fates, all of which were useless to them.

  “Now what do we do?” Eve said, looking out at the arid brown and yellow landscape.

  “We walk,” Bobby sighed. “No point waiting for roadside rescue.”

  Linwood opened the door, admitting a blast of hot, dry air. “How far, d’you figure?”

  “Over a hundred miles.”

  “We’ll never make it. I’m practically a cripple.”

  Bobby swung around in the front seat. “Don’t play that card. I’ve seen you run faster than me. Come on, Lin, we’ll make it. Now, let’s get the supplies together. We need to carry as much water as we can manage.”

  Climbing out, Bobby went around the front of the car and opened the hood, stepping back to allow the steam to escape. He glanced in hopelessly. “I don’t know what I was expecting to see,” he said. “The power went suddenly just as the engine was overheating. And I’m not wasting any of our water trying to refill it just to be sure.”

  Eve took him to the trunk and gestured at the contents. “How much should we try to take?”

  “Honestly, water’s the most important thing by far. Maybe just the lightest food—a few energy bars, snacks, that sort of thing.”

  Linwood stood alongside him. “A hundred miles on a desert highway? Tell me, Bob, have you ever hauled your butt across a desert? I have, and it ain’t pretty. I’ve seen disciplined fighting men fall to pieces in less heat than this. And they was fit, and they had supplies. This is just plain insane.”

  “What do you suggest? The car’s busted. As long as we walk along the road, then we stand as much chance of flagging someone down as we do here.”

  “And that ain’t sayin’ a lot. There ain’t been much on the road and I wouldn’t like to ask for help from most of those I’ve seen.”

  He was right. Most of the traffic they’d passed on the road was walking, and he’d lost count of the number of small groups huddled together against the midday sun, backs against rocks, trying to find any shade they could. The road came alive as the sun dropped, people shaking off the dust and shuffling along in the cool desert air.

  “Look, we can either stay here until dusk and walk all night, or set off now and try to find some shelter along the way,” Bobby said.

  “I vote we get moving,” Eve responded. “It’s after four now and I want to get a few miles behind us before it gets dark.”

  “Here,” Bobby said, handing Scrubbs’s revolver to Linwood before looping the hunting rifle over his shoulder. “I think these are worth the extra weight.”

  Brandon had handed over the weapons along with the pickup—no one wanted them after what they’d been used for. Bobby had been surprised to see Ruger Police Service-Six engraved under the cylinder. So, Scrubbs had either been a police officer or, more likely, had stolen what was a vintage weapon. It came fully loaded, and they found a box with another dozen .38 rounds in the glove box.

  They walked in single file along the narrow, two lane highway. To their left, a narrow strip of dry-grass scrub, all anemic greens and browns, separated them from the road heading back the way they came. To the right, the flat desert landscape stretched to a horizon interrupted by ranks of tall cacti looking like a deformed army going to war. Ahead, purple-brown hills basked in the late afternoon sun.

  After an hour, they took a break beside a white Dodge Sprinter with Enterprise Truck Rental emblazoned on the side. The rear doors were creaking in the slight breeze, and the wood-floored interior had long ago been stripped of cargo.

  “I reckon we did three miles or so,” Linwood said. “But my knee’s playin’ me up somethin’ awful.”

  Bobby groaned as he leaned against the side of the van, enjoying the shade. He seemed to be cursed with the companionship of the lame. Then he shook his head and chastised himself. Who the hell was he to complain? He wasn’t the one who’d lost his leg in active service, after all.

  “Gotta take the weight off, just for a minute or two,” Linwood said, sliding down the dirty white metal until he was sitting in the dust.

  The others joined him, as they all three looked across the landscape. “That feels good,” Bobby said, rubbing his legs. His injured foot, though now healed of infection, had begun to ache within a few hundred yards of setting off and now hurt each time he put it down. But he was more worried about water. He’d felt the sweat running down his back almost immediately and he knew that every ounce of fluid he lost that way had to be replaced somehow, and their supply was pretty meager.

  He looked along the road in both directions, though the heat haze obscured his vision long before the road undulated out of sig
ht. He could see no movement on the northward highway, just the usual assortment of abandoned cars and trucks. To the south, he could see a group of moving figures—maybe half a dozen—making their way slowly in his direction. Had they passed the pickup truck belonging to the now-dead Scrubbs? They would certainly have searched it if they had. For some unaccountable reason he felt angry at the thought of them rooting around in the possessions he’d considered too heavy to carry. But then, most of them hadn’t belonged to him before yesterday, so it made a kind of sense. There was something a little Buddhist about it all…

  “Bobby?”

  He woke up with a start. “What? What’s the problem?”

  Eve’s face had gone white and he could hear her panting. “I was talking to you and then I looked and your head had dropped back. Your eyes were open and everything. I thought you were…”

  “Yeah, it was pretty creepy,” Linwood added. “You drunk anythin’ since we set off?”

  Bobby cursed silently. He’d been so set on conserving his water he’d allowed himself to become dehydrated. Idiot. He pulled a bottle out of his pack and took a swig. He didn’t dare to do the calculation—they’d walked, maybe, three miles at the most in an hour, so that meant another thirty hours. No, they would have to travel at night. That way, they’d lose less water and so it might possibly last.

  So, they waited there for the night to fall.

  “You just stop right there,” Linwood said, raising the revolver past Bobby’s eyeline and pointing it down the road.

  A man stood with arms held out. “Relax, pal. We’re just a family trying to make it to Vegas.”

  “You armed?”

  For a moment, the man hesitated. “Sure. Have to be a fool not to have a gun. Here, I’ll get it out real slow so you can see we’re friendly.”

  He reached into his back jeans pocket and pulled out a small handgun that he passed to Bobby. It was a cheap Smith & Wesson, the sort many people carried in their cars.

  “And that’s it?” Linwood said, keeping his gun leveled.

  “Yeah. Look, guys, we’re no threat. We just saw you and thought we’d better say hi rather than slipping by.”

  Bobby regarded the man for a moment, then handed the gun back. “I’m Bobby, this is Eve and Linwood.”

  With a quick glance back at Bobby, Linwood lowered his weapon, but kept it on his lap.

  The man took the gun in one hand and held out his other. “I’m Randall Perkins,” he said. “This is my wife Bonnie and our girls, Molly and Indi.” He gestured to each of them, then pointed at a fifth figure standing a little behind the others. “And that’s Myron. We met him along the way. He doesn’t say much.”

  Bobby nodded to each of them, though he got no response from the last—a chubby young man in dusty chinos who lurked nervously on the edge of the group.

  “You’re heading for Vegas?” Bobby asked, getting to his feet and brushing himself down.

  “That’s the idea,” Randall said. “Our car gave out yesterday, and we’ve been walking since. I kinda hoped someone would pass us and offer us a lift, but I don’t blame those who didn’t.”

  Bobby searched back in his memory, but he couldn’t recall passing this group. Mind, if they’d stopped to offer help to everyone they passed, they’d have broken down sooner with less to keep them going when they were on foot.

  “Look, guys, we’ve only walked a few miles today, and we’re plannin’ to get some more behind us now it’s getting cooler. It seems to me eight walking together would be safer than five and three separate. What do you say?”

  Bobby glanced at Eve, who nodded. And so they walked along the desert road together.

  “Why are you going to Vegas? Got people there?” Bobby asked as the wind dropped and they went along to the arrhythmic thud of feet on asphalt.

  “It’s our home town,” Randall said. “Well, can’t speak for Myron. Made the mistake of a vacation in LA. Only just got out in time. Ended up in Santa Clarita, left just before the lockdown, and we’ve been trying to make our way back home ever since.”

  “Randy!”

  He spun around as his wife called out. “Oh, jeez. Molly, my dear.”

  Bobby helped Randall and his wife to lift the girl from the gritty road and onto the side. “Does she need some water?” he said, thinking of their inadequate supply, but unable to help himself.

  “Thanks,” Randall said. “It’ll help, but what she really needs is insulin. She’s been on half a dose for the past week, and we’re going to have to cut that further if it’s to last. But she keeps passing out.”

  Bobby stepped away as Bonnie took a syringe and injected the girl.

  “Can we just take ten minutes?” Randall asked. “She should be fit to carry on by then.”

  Bobby nodded. “Sure. We’ll take a break. Does she need any food? We’ve got some energy bars.”

  “You’re kind, but we’ve got that covered. It’s insulin we’re short of. Better just hope for the best. And pray some.”

  Bobby left him there and walked over to where Linwood and Eve were waiting. They sat by the side of the road and took another sip.

  “She’s diabetic?” Eve hissed.

  Bobby nodded. “Yeah, and we’d better watch ourselves. I reckon Randall would go to just about any lengths to make sure his daughter survives, including taking every ounce of water we’ve got.”

  “Then why don’t we hightail it out of here?” Linwood said.

  “I don’t reckon you’re fit to hightail anywhere. How’s your leg?”

  Linwood grimaced. “I ain’t gonna pretend it don’t hurt like hell. I don’t reckon I’ve walked this far in a long time. I’m dry as a teetotaler’s whiskey closet. Look, if I can’t keep up, you folks had better leave me behind. I’ll follow if I can, but you got Maria to think about,” he said, nodding at Bobby in the half-light. “And you got Josh. You gotta keep yourself safe so he can see his mommy again.”

  Eve buried her head in her hands as Bobby gripped Linwood’s shoulder. “We’re not leaving you behind, Lin, and that’s final. We survive this together.” But he knew it was foolish. Witt was quite right. Maria depended on him coming through the journey so he could rescue her. And then he wanted to reunite Eve with her son because he knew that she’d left a part of her behind in Santa Clarita.

  “I’m old,” Linwood said, looking from one to the other. “I ain’t got much to live for, not like you two. You gotta be practical.”

  Before Bobby could respond, Eve sobbed, “At least you’re a good man. Josh is better off if I don’t go back. Or he might turn out like me.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” Bobby asked, taking her wet hand. “You seem pretty good to me.”

  She shook her head. “You don’t know the truth. And if you did, you’d hate me.”

  “No. No, I wouldn’t,” Bobby said, feeling his heart swell for this woman.

  They huddled together in the chill desert breeze as night closed in around them, her hands wrapped around his arm.

  “He rescued me,” she said, finally.

  “What?”

  “Michael. He found me when I was at my lowest. He didn’t judge me, he just loved me. Restored me to life and to faith. And his reward? I told him I was leaving him. And now I have. Him and my son.”

  Bobby pulled her close, sensing that she needed to tell him something and that, until it was out in the open, she would feel the burden of it, keeping them a little apart when they both so wanted to be intimate.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “Sometimes life happens. I did something terrible. Betrayed the trust of Maria’s mother. I’m not saying that we’d have made it as a couple, but it was all kinds of wrong.”

  “I was hooked on crystal meth.”

  He shuddered, his mouth dropping open. Of all the things she might have told him…

  He felt her grip on his arm. “I beat it in the end, but only because of Michael. He believed in me. He loved me. I prayed to Jesus every time I got the urge,
through all the withdrawal pain, and I think that helped me, but it was Michael I held on to. He stood by me while I got off the drug. And while I finished my sentence.”

  “What?” Reflexively, Bobby pushed her away and she collapsed in a heap on her side, sobbing into the road surface, blowing grit in all directions. Once he’d recovered a little, he gathered her in his arms and pulled her to him, rocking as she sobbed. Linwood gazed wide-eyed at them, then gave a tiny nod to Bobby and sidled away a little.

  “Tell me,” Bobby whispered. He glanced over his shoulder as Randall’s family began to make ready to move again.

  “You’ll hate me,” she said, between the heaving sobs.

  He pulled her tighter. “No, I won’t. I swear.” He only hoped he could keep that promise once he understood.

  “I was an addict. I lost my job, so I couldn’t pay my dealer. I had to earn money somehow.”

  Bobby sat there, rocking her, and hoping that this was as deep as the rabbit hole went. Could he wrap his mind around being in love with a former hooker? Surely that’s what she was saying.

  “I was an escort. As long as the clients liked me, my pimp supplied the drugs that kept me sane.”

  “It’s okay,” Bobby said, sincerely hoping that it was.

  She looked up at him, tears shining in the moon’s reflected light. “That’s not all. Oh, I don’t want to say, but I can’t live a lie. I have feelings for you, Bobby. But you’ve got to know the truth.”

  Bobby cupped her wet cheek in his free hand. “Go ahead.”

  “I had a son.”

  There it was. The shoe had now dropped.

  “As soon as I was showing, my dealer kicked me out onto the streets,” she said, speaking more quickly as if she wanted to get it all out as soon as possible. “I ended up in a squat full of addicts and crazies. I had the baby there. Two months later, the cops raided the place. Charged me with possession and…and child negligence. My boy, my poor boy. Marlin, I called him. I had no milk of my own and no money to buy it, so we both starved. He was half dead, they said at my trial. I got two years and I haven’t seen my boy since. Now do you see why Josh is better off without me?”