The Dead Years (Volume 8)

by Jeff Olah

  “What is that,” Randy said as he pulled it from the man’s clutches, finally getting his attention.

  “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Are you saying I’m too stupid…”

  Dalton scratched his head and furrowed his brow, attempting to find the right words as he assumed they may be his last. “I’m sorry, what I meant was that you couldn’t possibly understand. Let’s just say it’s an extremely important remote control.”

  His tone pissed Randy off. Between the viciousness and the heartbreak of the past day, he needed an outlet for his anger. He needed it now. This man was the enemy, even if he posed no immediate threat. That didn’t matter. Dropping his weapon and Dalton’s glorified remote to the ground, Randy twisted to the left and swung quickly. Tucking his fist into his bicep, his elbow made contact with Dalton’s left cheek and rocked the smaller man backward, sheets of blood pouring out of the wound. There wasn’t an ounce of fight in his opponent.

  Randy dropped his boot into Dalton’s chest as he lay flat on his back, shielding his face from the next blow. From his vantage, Randy got his first glimpse of Travis in the flood of light still radiating from Goodwin’s chopper. He assumed the boy wasn’t hurt too bad and just hadn’t fully recovered. Looking closely, blood pooled in Travis’s mouth and the rise and fall were vacant in his chest. Randy stared a moment longer and with each passing second his thoughts were only for a miracle. “Get up kid… right now. There are people who need you… I need you.” With no movement in over sixty seconds, death was evident.

  Randy raised his eyes to the illuminated sky as the acrid taste of bile formed in the back of his throat. He knew this had little to do with the events that had already taken place today and everything to do with his actions of the next few minutes. Dalton begged for mercy as Randy dropped to his knees and cocked back his right arm.

  He was going to beat this man to death with his bare hands.

  8

  She said nothing. Her gaze remained strongly imprinted on the floor below the table. April was somewhere else, anywhere else. She sat with her mother and cried. They both held one another and fought to escape the images haunting every single thought. They were bonded together in grief, although neither spoke a single word to the other. Both her son and her father had been taken within the last hour and as badly as April wanted to join them, leaving her mother behind wasn’t something she could force herself to do. The world had changed; it had become rigid and cold. Her only option was to do the same.

  Crossing the room, Mason knelt beside the table and pulled the wayward strands of hair from her face, tucking them neatly behind her ear. “April, I need you to hear me. The room Justin was in looks…”

  Without moving her head, she raised her eyes and spoke softly. “He’s gone, our boy is gone. I won’t ever get to see my son again. He saved us, all of us.”

  Confused, Mason reached out and held her hand, his voice breaking as he continued. “He can’t be. Justin is here somewhere. I just need to go and find him. I have to get to him.” Mason turned and started for the set of double doors at the opposite side of the room, quickening his pace with each step.

  Moving from under the table, April wiped her face on her sleeve and went after him. “Mason, he’s gone. Justin is not coming back. He died saving my mother and I. We owe our lives to him.” She began to sob once again. Through the tears and short bursts of coherence, she had one final request. “Please stay here with us… anything outside this room can wait… I am through running and being scared. You’ve left us alone too many times. Mason, I need you to stay with me this time.”

  A figured appeared from the rear entrance and moved quickly past the window heading to the double doors. “Savannah,” April said. An instant later the doors rocked under her hammering.

  Pulling the weight from behind the door, Mason stood back as Savannah plowed through the threshold, tripping over a misplaced trashcan and falling into April. “They’re gone, Tessa and Parker. It was my fault. Randy tried to get to them, but couldn’t. THEY’RE DEAD BECAUSE OF ME!”

  . . .

  The fog dissipating at the higher altitudes transitioned into thin dry air as he pulled the SUV to a stop within inches of the front gate. He cut the engine, exited the driver’s door and grabbed the bag from the back seat, the AR-50 rifle balanced between the straps. Climbing onto the roof of the SUV he got his first glimpse of the helicopter he’d been chasing for the better part of the day. Obliterated bodies from one side of the courtyard to the other, downed Feeders were indistinguishable from those they slaughtered. The entrance still smoking and the chopper only yards away was completely destroyed. Every door ripped from its hinges and in the cockpit, the remains of two individuals so badly assaulted that even at this distance his gag reflex warned him to look away.

  The level of destruction in this area far exceeded anything he’d ever seen. There was no way to determine what exactly had taken place or if any of his friends were still alive. He was beginning to think that his heart was the last one beating on this entire mountain.

  William mounted the night vision scope to the rifle and lay prone atop the SUV, just outside the main gate. He took a full thirty seconds to even out his breathing before pushing his right eye in tight to the lens. Through the angled spruce and low hanger chopper blades, visibility was sketchy at best. The illumination originating at the opposite corner of the facility made things much worse. Images came in and out of focus as he attempted to adjust the optics. A low hum was barely audible through the thick treeline, although William assumed it was the oversized generators powering this facility. He had no idea that the sound was coming from another helicopter less than two hundred yards away. The man responsible for all of this devastation was preparing to leave.

  . . .

  As his men battled in the distance, Marcus Goodwin boarded the chopper and moved to the cockpit. Sliding down into the co-pilot’s seat and while still focused on the events outside, he addressed the pilot. “Be prepared to leave. I want to make sure they’ve executed my plan. Once I do, we are leaving this mountain... for the last time.”

  Tapping the fuel gauge as if by chance it would give a different reading, the pilot shook his head. “Sir, we flew into this area on fumes. I seriously doubt we have anywhere near the fuel needed to…”

  Obviously angered, Goodwin pointed out the side door of the chopper and down the hillside below. “I had to ask you earlier to do your job. I won’t ask again. I’ll throw your lifeless body out of this bird as easily as the others. Would you like to stay with me or go it alone out there?”

  Without making eye contact he replied, “Yes sir. I’m with you.”

  Goodwin didn’t respond. He ripped the headset off, opened the door and hopped out. Shielding his eyes, he started toward his men. As the scene came into focus he saw one of his sharpshooters, motionless and flat on his back, the other slowly pushing to his feet. Returning to the chopper, he retrieved one of the handguns from the rear cabin and dropped the clip into his hand. Six rounds remained. “I’ll do it myself,” he said as he headed for the disturbance.

  The pilot leaned out and shouted, “Sir, we have to go!”

  Goodwin continued forward, and cutting his eyes at the pilot was his only answer.

  Not quite fifty yards away, the only sharpshooter left still struggled to get to his feet and was using the barrel of his rifle to push away from the saturated field. It became clear that his men were ambushed as a much larger man sat atop Dalton, continually striking him without knowledge of the threat from behind.

  He could make out that Dalton’s movements were slowing with each blow and assumed that his man didn’t have another sixty seconds of life in him. Goodwin never cared for anyone other than himself and he’d proved it many times, most intensely within the first few weeks of the infection. He wasn’t on his way to save Dalton as much as his own ego. His policy of always staying one step ahead was about to be tested. This man, whoever he was, had no id
ea the hell that was approaching.

  Goodwin continued forward, not increasing his foot speed and as he casually moved toward the men, he squeezed off a single round in their general direction. He wasn’t intent on eliminating the man assaulting Dalton just yet; instead his interests lay with alerting his enemy that he was coming. He wanted the man to know who was about to kill him.

  9

  He was drawn here. In the previous ninety days, he’d only convinced himself one other time to take this chance and the last time he didn’t even make it to the parking lot. His world was empty without his wife and his son. Having them near him every single day would be worth anything he was about to face. At this hour, his son would be buried deep in homework and his wife would have begun wrapping up her day. Talking with her about reconciliation wasn’t going to be easy, although they needed to get back to the reason they fell in love. They needed to deal with the issues that forced them apart if they were going to move forward. Not quite enough to use his wipers, rain danced softly off the windshield as Mason rolled to a stop across the street from the house they once shared. Lowering his window, he tried to convince himself that this was a good idea.

  Twelve hours before the infection descended on the city, he sat in darkness. The bouquet of flowers sitting in the passenger seat seemed like the prefect ice breaker initially, although now they appeared a bit desperate and trite. Running through the scenario in his mind he saw no way around simply asking for forgiveness, although he wasn’t perfectly clear on what he’d be apologizing for. This would be a good place to start and at least wouldn’t put April on the defensive from the get go.

  Not wanting to focus on anything but their future together and reconciling, he’d attempt to steer the conversation away from past failings. There’d be time for uncovering old wounds once their bond was stronger.

  It looked as if every room in the home was lit and as the front door opened, Mason slid down into the driver’s seat, not wanting to bring any attention to himself. The back lit figure moved from the porch and it wasn’t until the man walked down the driveway and along the sidewalk in front of the home that Mason was finally able to put the pieces together.

  “What’s her father doing here? It’s a weeknight; shouldn’t he be off saving the world somewhere?”

  Mason hadn’t seen April’s father in quite some time. Even during the better times with April, he’d find a reason to avoid family outings to see her parents. She knew they were simply excuses and never pressed him to make the uncomfortable sacrifice.

  The Major looked old and tired. He must have aged ten years since the pair last was together twelve short months ago. His salt and pepper hair appeared to be completely grey and he looked like he’d lost at least ten pounds. Although with as much running as the man did, Mason was surprised that’s all he’d lost. His uniform hung from his frame like it would from a hanger in the back of the closet, appearing at least one size too big. All this and the only thing that troubled Mason was the fact that his father-in-law was actually in uniform. He never wore it when not on official duty. The only explanation he could muster is that his father-in-law must have come straight here from the office.

  Watching intently as the Major paced the sidewalk furiously rattling off text messages into his phone, Mason sat forward as his father-in-law stopped what he was doing and stared at the phone. He was frozen in place, dead center in front of the house as his phone rang. He let out a powerful sigh and waited until it completed its fourth ring.

  “Yes, it’s Daniels.”

  “Yes, in order. Four… Eight… Twenty Three… Fifteen.”

  “Secured.”

  “I’m six to eight hours away.”

  “Yes, no one in and no one out.”

  “Too many to mention.”

  “How many facilities?”

  “Other countries… how could you be so utterly incompetent?”

  “I will take care of this… Tonight.”

  He ended the call, pounded out a few more texts and let loose a barrage of obscenities under his breath, trying to keep his composure, if only for himself. Looking toward the sky, Major Daniels shook his head and began to turn toward the house as he noticed Mason only twenty feet away staring in disbelief. Looking again back at the house and then to Mason, he stepped off the curb and started across the street as the soles of his polished, black dress shoes slapped on the dampened asphalt.

  As the Major approached, Mason opened the car door and stepped out. Shaking his head at Mason, the conversation started as so many others had. “Mason, let me see if I’m seeing this situation for what it is. You’re sitting out here tonight to either try your hand at winning my daughter back or to cause her even more grief.”

  Extending his hand as the Major stood before him with a look that more closely resembled stress rather than anger, Mason smiled. “It’s nice to see you too Major Daniels. How long has it been?” He hadn’t been intimidated by this man in years and given up trying to impress him almost as long ago. Mason frequently toiled on the edge of insincerity with each new conversation the two shared. This usually ended with his father-in-law walking off in frustration and to Mason this was a mission accomplished.

  Tonight was different; the older man was off his game. Even with his snide opening comment, Mason could sense that he wasn’t present. The Major was somewhere else. Had his job finally gotten the best of him? Mason enjoyed the fact that the life he built for his family, prior to his split with April, was by design. He came to realize early on that his career, what he did for a living, was much less important than his health, happiness and most of all his family. The Major thought him lazy and uninspired. Mason attempted numerous times to explain himself only to have this man belittle and patronize his lifestyle. He expressed on many occasions that the Major should start taking his health more seriously and cut back on his job. Was he finally ready to listen? If his track record was any indication, Mason guessed not.

  “So Mason, you’ve also come to have fun with me?”

  “Sir, I had no idea you were even visiting. I thought you only took Christmas and Thanksgiving off. Did they finally force your retirement?”

  “Son, I don’t have time for your games. If you’d like to speak to April, I’m sure she’d be happy to see you.”

  Was this his way of firing back or was he actually being sincere? Mason furrowed his brow and paused before responding. His usual barbed response didn’t seem to be called for. “Major, are you ok?”

  “Son, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Now if you’re still interested in speaking to her, you’d better get inside before my attitude changes.” He rested his hand on Mason’s shoulder. “You belong with her.”

  Confused by his vulnerability, this change in personality caused Mason to back toward the car. Maybe this was actually his intention. The Major knew if the meeting between the two went as it had in the past, Mason could possibly pull April back into his life. Whatever the strategy, Mason couldn’t foresee a good outcome. “Sir, I think I’m gonna head home. This wasn’t a good idea. Please don’t let April know we spoke.” Mason opened the car door, sat behind the wheel and started the engine.

  Major Daniels followed him to the car, bent at the waist and leaned on the door. “Mason, do me a favor and keep your phone handy for the next couple of days. There may be something I need you for.” He pushed away and walked back to the house, retrieving his phone and once again furiously tapped at the screen.

  Pulling out into the street, Mason muted the radio needing to gather his thoughts. “That was bizarre. What on earth was with him? Could just be mind games… he’s probably laughing about it right now.”

  Although Mason didn’t have a clue what his father-in-law was really after, it reminded him of the time shortly after they first were introduced. They admired one another, enjoyed each other’s company and were friends. He saw the man as a human being and not the dictator he’d become in the past few years. The job hardened his wife’s father and
for that Mason tried to understand. Tonight was different. He wasn’t only human again; for the first time ever, he appeared to have lost himself. He looked scared.

  Mason’s phone rang the morning of the outbreak. Major Daniels was attempting to reach out to him. He didn’t answer.

  . . .

  April insisted that Justin was gone. If he would have taken the call that morning, would Major Daniels still be alive? Would they have been kept safe? Was he to blame for the many atrocities this group endured over the last two weeks? Could any of this have been avoided?

  He couldn’t filter the words his wife spoke. They didn’t fit. His mind wouldn’t allow this truth. Mason had to find him; he wouldn’t accept any fate that didn’t bring his family back together. He was going after his son.

  10

  Too many things were coming at him at once. The news he still was unable to process about his son, Savannah’s current condition, the intermittent gunfire outside Blackmore and the three that were still missing. Randy was more than capable of holding his own, although the others were going to need help. Mason hadn’t yet wrapped his head around the location of the others that were outside this room. As selfish as it would be, he was going to take care of his own first.