The Death: The Complete Trilogy

by John W. Vance

  Devin looked at Daryl and sympathized with his position and he knew retrieving her was impossible. Their chance was during the match, but that went sideways. How Daryl got him out was miraculous to say the least.

  “Do you have a rifle with a scope?”

  “Yeah, in the truck,” Daryl answered.

  Devin found it and walked away.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I need a place to make a clear shot.”

  Daryl knew what this meant, he wasn’t going to rescue her, but he was going to save her from her agony.

  What he was about to do was the hardest thing he had ever done in his life, but it had to be done. He stopped and scanned the horizon until he found the perfect site, a tall water tower. “Take me there.”

  The tower was a short three-minute drive north of the shipyard. The two-hundred-and-fifty-foot tower would give him the vantage point to make the shot he needed.

  The sun had left the horizon and soon he’d not have any natural light. He had to move fast. Like a squirrel racing up a tree, he scaled the tower with the rifle slung over his back.

  The higher he climbed, the greater the chants and cheers sounded now unobstructed by buildings.

  He made it to the gangway, found a perfect spot and took up a position lying on the sharp metal grate walkway. He was familiar with Daryl’s rifle; it was an identical model to the rifle Poppy had him use when they assaulted the community. He opened the bolt and confirmed a round was seated. His heart was pounding and he still wasn’t a hundred percent sure he could do what he needed to do.

  Dusk was fast approaching, but large bonfires and floodlights illuminated the center of the shipyard.

  He took up a firm position behind the rifle by placing the butt into the pocket of his shoulder and applying a proper cheek weld with his face against the stock. He adjusted his head placement ever so slightly until his eye relief for the scope was perfect. After blinking a few times, he began to scan the yard, looking for his target, Tess.

  A cheer that sounded more like a roar erupted from the yard as the men got their first glimpse of Tess.

  Similar to his first ordeal with them, they pushed her forward towards the captain. A large vertical stake stood planted in the ground twenty feet from them.

  Devin’s heart hurt when he looked at her being shoved, kicked and spit on during the gauntlet phase of her execution. Her hair had been completely cut off, obviously with the use of knives as blood streamed down from her head onto her face and neck. Her eyes were swollen and her lips appeared smashed.

  “Motherfuckers,” Devin grumbled, looking at Tess’ battered face.

  Ever defiant, she stood in front of Renfield and spit at him.

  Renfield reached back and punched her in the face.

  "Take her to the stake!" Renfield ordered, clearly upset by her insolence.

  They marched her to the stake and pinned her against it.

  Devin couldn’t take anymore. He placed the crosshairs on Tess’ chest and began to squeeze the trigger. He knew they’d skin her so his timing was everything. There was no time to ponder. He had to make the shot clean and accurate.

  A thought suddenly came to him, he remembered that the rifle had a five-round clip and he planned on using every round against these monsters.

  Tess’ arms and legs were secured tightly to the stake.

  Renfield approached with a long sheath knife. He was yelling, but Devin couldn’t make out what he was saying. Each time he talked, the pirates roared with approval.

  Devin once again placed the crosshairs on Tess’ chest. He took a breath, exhaled and held it. He placed his right index finger on the trigger and began to apply a firm and even pressure.

  Tears welled up, but he held them back. If he started to cry, he’d miss the shot, and this shot was the most important shot he’d ever take in his life.

  Tess taunted Renfield and declared her lack of fear to die.

  The rifle fired, startling Devin. He followed through by putting the crosshairs back on Tess and saw his shot had been true.

  Her defiance and rebellious spirit were gone, but her death was an honorable one.

  Renfield jumped back when the bullet ripped into her chest, killing her in an instant. He looked around for where it might have come from and the men around him began to howl with anger.

  Devin just slightly moved the rifle, placed the hairs on Renfield and squeezed off another shot. The bullet burst out of the barrel and in what seemed like an instant hit him squarely in the chest. Renfield looked down at the hole in his chest before falling to the ground dead.

  The pirates began to run in different directions.

  Devin looked for other targets, but none were as great as taking out Renfield. With three additional rounds, he randomly picked his kills and took them down. When he was done, he refocused on Tess’ body and said, “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

  Day 262

  June 20, 2021

  Jacksonville, North Carolina

  The drive from Chicago to New York seemed to take forever as did the drive to North Carolina. When she arrived in New York, she expected to see more people than she did. The city was a ghost town, but regardless of how empty it felt, the tragedy in Chicago made her more diligent. By her estimate, she was about thirty minutes away from North Topsail Island. She was hoping and praying Tess would be there. After so much loss and disappointment, she needed something to go right.

  Losing the men in Chicago was tough, but after spending some time in New York recuperating, she was ready to go back on the road. She traveled only during the day and made sure her fuel tank never went below half. If for whatever reason she needed to flee, she wanted enough fuel to get her at least two hundred miles.

  Not compromising on her rules, she found a safe spot to pull over and top off. Bridges made for good places, there were only two ways people could come, making it impossible to be attacked from the sides.

  Driving alone wasn’t only lonely, it was fatiguing. She wondered how people did this for a living. Her butt and back hurt as did her elbows. She found it so funny that you could ache from doing nothing.

  As she poured the gas, she took the time to relax. She leaned back and looked up. The sky was a deep blue and not a cloud was present. A soft breeze was blowing in from the east and it carried the aroma of the sea, telling her she was very close to the ocean.

  Gas splashed out of the nozzle and soaked her shoe. “Damn, now I’m going to reek like gas.”

  She closed the gas cap and in a bit of frustration tossed the gas can into the back of the trailer. As she secured the trailer, movement on the horizon in the southwest sky caught her eye. She squinted and leaned her head a bit as if the extra inch would help her see it better.

  A large jet was cruising in the distance, a long and wide contrail trailed just behind it. The contrail widened and spread until it slowly dissipated.

  Seeing the aircraft was strange, she thought. It didn’t make sense, but what did anymore? How could she look at that jet and say, ‘Wow that looks odd?’ Her entire world was turned upside down and weird. She shrugged her shoulders, got back in the SUV and made for Topsail Island and hopefully a meeting with Tess.

  North Topsail Island, North Carolina

  Devin looked at the waves crashing upon the beach; the rich smell of the ocean wafted over him. He pushed his toes into the sand and pulled them out. The hot sugary sand felt good on his bare feet. The sensation of the sand slipping between his toes reminded him of his childhood. He'd loved the beach his parents had taken him to; it was similar to, this but the glaring absence of squawking seagulls and playing children often reminded him that the world of his childhood was gone and never coming back.

  He had come to grips with losing the world before. It had taken him a while, but he finally found a reason and that was Tess. He never thought he could love two people, but he had. He loved Cassidy but lost her, and without trying, he came to love Tess, but she too was ripp
ed away from him. He tried to be pragmatic and think about the future, but after what had happened in Charleston, he would never be the same. All the things to ever happen to him did not compare to that last moment he saw her alive only to be the one to take her life. Yes, he knew that his killing her released her from the pain of the torturous death that was coming, but no amount of training or mindset can prepare someone for taking the life of someone they love. It ate away at him until he was hollow.

  Three weeks had passed since Tess’ death, but for him he relived it every minute. It had been hard for him to do anything but sit in reflection. Daryl and Brianna both tried to console him with kind and encouraging words, but they rang empty to him. The only words that allowed him to get up each morning were Tess’. He’d lay there and hear her speaking to him and telling him to get up, move, help the kids and keep them safe. If those words ever stopped coming to him, he’d end his life in an instant.

  When he allowed his mind to go, he found only questions. The main questions being, what did it all mean and what was the purpose for living? The latter was the most important because without Tess he saw no reason to go on.

  “Dev, it’s time to go!” Daryl hollered from the house.

  Devin raised his hand to acknowledge him.

  The group was now setting out. Their destination was set, but they had no real idea what they’d encounter when they got to south central Virginia. They all had discussed the next place and it seemed like a good place for a variety of reasons; one was that it was very rural and two, it was hundreds of miles from the water. Renfield was dead, but Poppy still alive and no doubt still pillaging.

  “Everyone is waiting, good buddy, c’mon!” Daryl yelled.

  Devin stood up, stretched and wiped the sand off his hands and pants. He took one last look at the ocean. He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply and made a mental note of this moment.

  Daryl waited for him at the edge of the house. “All good?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Let’s go, then,” Daryl said and started walking.

  Devin stood still. “What’s it all about?”

  Daryl turned around and asked, “What?”

  Raising his arms and motioning to the ground, sky, houses etc., he continued, “What’s all of this mean? Why are we here? Why are we alive but others are dead? Why do we get to live, huh, why?”

  Daryl saw the anguish on Devin’s face. He’d seen this look before when in the Army. “I don’t know for sure what it’s all about. I wish I had an answer for you, but I don’t.”

  “I just can’t get my arms around why I lived and she had to die.”

  “I’ve asked that same question; believe me. I know she’s watching me, so that keeps me going. She wouldn’t want me to quit, I know this about my Mary. She’d want me to protect our Hudson and ensure he has a safe place to grow up.”

  “I get that, but a higher purpose or reason for all of this?”

  “That, my friend, is above my pay grade.”

  Devin looked down; once again an intense wave of emotions was hitting him.

  “Take a minute; we’ll be in the truck waiting for you.”

  Sensing his need, Brando ran up to Devin and licked his hand.

  “Hey, boy,” Devin said, petting Brando’s head.

  Startling Devin and Daryl, Brando began to bark at something in the sky.

  Daryl looked up and saw a large commercial-sized jet streaking across the brilliant blue sky. Long and wide contrails streamed from the wings and tail as it headed north. “Hey, look,” he said, pointing up.

  Devin peered up and said, “Not something you see every day. How high are they flying?”

  “Oh, about twenty thousand feet, a bit low for contrails but not impossible, I think.”

  “I wonder where they’re headed,” Devin asked.

  “Does it matter?”

  “Of course not, but I used to play that game before.”

  “C’mon, let’s get on the road. We have a long drive and that jet doesn’t concern us,” Daryl said and walked on towards the vehicles.

  Still watching the jet and its expanding contrails, Devin played his old game. “I’ll say you’re headed to New York. Yep, that’s it, good ole NYC. What do you think, boy. Where are they going, huh?” he asked Brando, scratching his furry head.

  Brando whimpered and rested his head against Devin’s leg.

  He squatted down and started to pet Brando again. He looked into his dark brown eyes and said, “I miss her too, but you know what she’d want for us. You can hear her if you listen closely. Keep moving, keep going and take it a day at a time. And that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

  Epilogue

  Day 15,330

  September 24, 2063

  New York City

  Cassidy watched the candle’s flame dance and cast shadows over the small dining room. As the wax melted and streamed down its long sides, she thought of what it symbolized. This candle wasn’t lit to give light or chase away the darkness of night. It was lit to memorialize a day, her birthday, more specifically her seventy-second birthday.

  “Oh, let me see. What shall I wish for this year,” she said out loud, a smile creasing her wrinkled and weathered skin. “Hmm, what do you think?”

  Surrounding the birthday cake were framed photographs of people. Her question was directed towards a photograph of Devin.

  She picked it up and ran her shaking thumb over his youthful face. “What should it be this year, sweetheart?”

  Many years had passed, forty-two to be exact, since she had seen him. She never forgot that day; she regretted being in a hurry that morning. Her excitement to get out the door and rush to the airport overshadowed any thought that she’d see him again. She tried not to fault herself, how could she? She wasn’t programmed to think that way, who was? Like most Americans at that time, she lived a protected life, mostly free from the hardships of a brutal world; a life where the top complaints among people dealt with late pizza delivery or the DVR not recording the latest Dancing with the Stars. Never in her wildest dreams or nightmares could she have imagined that was the last time she’d see him.

  Looking back now, she knew that if she had stayed, they’d have been together for whatever outcome. What troubled her most was never knowing what happened to him. Had he waited for her? Had he gone looking for her? Had he even survived the first Death? It was torture for her to think about him agonizing over her whereabouts only to suffer a horrible death. She hoped his demise had been swift and painless.

  “Okay, I’ll wish that I meet another person, how about that?” she said to the picture.

  She furrowed her brow and suddenly blurted out, “I know, I know that’s what I wish for every year, but it’s a good wish. I mean, what can be more important than that? Don’t say that, that’s mean,” she said and placed the picture down and turned away from it, frustrated. Her eyes gazed through the wide multi-paned window. The orange glow of the recently setting sun illuminated the city beyond. Living in New York was difficult, but out of all the places she could go, she felt most at home in her and Devin’s old apartment. It wasn’t easy, but she had made it as nice as possible. There wasn’t any power and the modern conveniences she had enjoyed were all but forgotten over the decades she had called it home again.

  Following the massacre of Bill, Tom, Josh and Travis in Chicago, she went on alone, first to North Carolina to fulfill the promise she gave to a dying Travis. It was in North Carolina that she first saw the jets and their signature contrails. Not long after, the second virus began its lethal rampage, killing everyone. From there her travels became more about finding anyone alive.

  Cassidy never looked at herself as a quitter, but the unsuccessful years of searching had worn on her. Her decision to come back to New York and settle down came as an epiphany of sorts. The years of wandering led her to a secluded beach in Southern California. Tired both physically and emotionally, she made her decision to come back. Logic told her others had to
be alive; there had to be someone else who was immune to this final virus. But nothing, no one.

  It had taken her another two years of traveling across the country to make it back to New York. Once back, she told herself that her stay there would be temporary. It was just a break from the travels, but the weeks turned to months then years. She became comfortable in the life she had created for herself and often remarked that she’d head back out to find people someday. However, it never happened and she fell into a deep state of depression.

  Surrounded by remnants of her past, she began to play a game. She’d close her eyes and pretend she was back in the year 2020. This quickly became a daily ritual. She kept close track of the days by homemade calendars and never missed a holiday or birthday.

  The apartment’s decorations and furniture remained as they had been when Devin left forty-two years ago. She would spend hours each day sitting in Devin’s office, looking at his laptop, still open like he had left it so many years before. A pad and pen sat next to it; the ink from notes and scribbles were as vibrant as when he had written them. She hadn’t cleaned anything from his desk. His mug still sat on the coaster and the last drops of coffee and dried mold clung to the sides and bottom. She’d sit and imagine him there; she’d close her eyes and let her ears hear things like the keystrokes on his keyboard or the squeak of his chair. Above his computer on the wall was a dry-erase board with more notes. Looking at them, she’d get sad; it was if he had written them an hour ago.

  She tossed the cake away and cleaned up the kitchen and dining room. As she made her way towards the bedroom, a sharp pain, like an electrical shock, struck her in the chest. She clutched at her blouse and steadied herself against the wall.

  “Whoa!” she exclaimed. The pain gave way to nausea and sweats. “Take a seat, Cass,” she said and slowly walked to the large leather lounge chair in the living room. Wiping away the sweat, she took a large breath but stopped when the pain surged again. This time it felt as if an elephant was sitting on her chest. Pain radiated up into her neck, jaw and down her left arm.