Blood and Chaos: The Collected Low Lying Lands Saga (The Low Lying Lands Saga)

by Bob Williams

  I’m looking at Kade for the first time. Although we are a good distance away, I can’t help but notice the demonic force of nature that is Kade. He has to be about six foot five and must weigh about two hundred and fifty pounds. He’s big. He’s also very loud and extremely charismatic. I am almost mesmerized by his Jim Jones-like ability to get the Freaks to drink his Kool-Aid. Cole’s about ready to storm out the front door when Lexi bites his pants leg. If she hadn’t, we’d all be dead.

  Shields gets in front of him. “Listen to me, Cole.” She grabs him by his head, forcing him to look at her. “Listen. To. Me. I can’t begin to tell you what to feel right now, but it is my job to tell you to stand down. You feel me, Sergeant? Stand. Down! You and I both know Jim’s going to die. There is nothing we can do to save him. We are three against three hundred. Or more. We have to let it happen, Cole. We have to. I’m sorry.” She lets him go and looks back at the three figures. “Goddamn it. I’m sorry, Jim.”

  I watch along with Cole and Shields as Kade throws Jim Hawkins off the roof. I didn’t know the man, but in that moment I vow to avenge him along with the others. I crush Cole in the tightest bear hug I can muster, and I can tell by the pain on his face that it isn’t nearly enough to keep him away—he’s ready to bolt.

  Shields sees it, too, and tackles us both to the ground, then stuffs a rag in his mouth when he starts yelling. She punches him square in the face and whispers viciously, “Shut up, you dumb bastard! You’re going to get us killed. You didn’t listen to a damn thing I just said, did you? Jesus, you fuckin’ idiot.”

  “They’re gone. They’re all gone,” sobs Cole. “He just, just… hung Jim as a fuck you to us! How could this have happened? How were we not ready? They’re all dead.”

  “I don’t know, Cole. I don’t fucking know,” she says. “We had surveillance. We had communication. We had the Network.”

  Cole walks about ten feet away, puts his back against the large glass wall, and slides down. He puts his face in his hands and begins to cry.

  I step in close to Shields. “You know what? I’ve just about had enough of this cryptic Network bullshit! When are you two going to tell me what the hell it is?”

  “Cole doesn’t have access to the Network. Only the Three,” says Shields. “There is nothing more important than the Network. If the Network wasn’t protected, then all is truly lost. Jim was a good man. His number one job, above all else, was to protect the Network. We have to trust that he did. Prescott, if the Network lives, then I’ll tell you everything. Right now I need you to shut up and let me think.”

  She isn’t looking at me while she talks. Her eyes are on Jim Hawkins and that fucking sign hanging from his neck. Over a hundred family members, gone. I look at her, and despite only knowing her for a few hours, I can tell she’s no longer the same woman I met back at the outpost. The ideals and experiences that have shaped the person she is are sliding off her body like a snake shedding an old layer of skin. When she decides to turn and face me, to meet my eyes with hers, she will be a new woman. A woman who isn’t going to run any longer.

  “We need to make a camp,” she says. “The MSZ still stands, but it has fallen, and it’s no longer secure. We’ll need to find another building.”

  She still has her back to us. I see her shoulders slump and go to her. I put my hand on her shoulder and she spins on me and strikes like a pissed-off cobra.

  “Don’t touch me! Don’t ever fucking touch me again! If you somehow figure out a way in your selfish, half-cocked brain to put your hands on me again, I will kill you. Is that clear?” Tears fill her eyes and I can feel the rage in her heart.

  “Understood. Look, I know—”

  “You know? How could you possibly know, Prescott? Everything we’ve worked for the last two years, everything we’ve accomplished since the Descent is gone. Dead. All the effort we put into preserving life, creating life, and maintaining our humanity in the face of inhuman and demonic forces has been wiped out in one fell swoop.”

  “What do you want me to—”

  “As much I want to get over there and look around, we have to determine the fate of the Network. We need to make camp. Here. In a few hours, once we’re situated and we’ve all had some time to process this, we’ll go over. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to talk to Cole.”

  She didn’t say it, but I know she needs to determine if Cole is able to continue. He’s already broken. This could short circuit his ass back to drooling and sucking his thumb. Whatever, they just lost everyone—they deserve some privacy.

  “Find whatever you can and keep watch with that dog. Do not leave the building. We’ll be back with a plan on how to proceed with our dead. And with Kade.”

  Shields walks over to where Cole is sitting and crouches down to look him in the eyes. She speaks to him and he raises his head. Their conversation is quiet, yet intense. I’m not sure how I come into it, but Cole points at me and he’s pretty hot. I don’t blame him. I mean, I don’t know why my presence is fueling his anger it, but the rage I felt over losing Emily was all consuming, and she was only one person. I can’t imagine what they’re going through. I can’t put myself in their shoes. If I try, it will only send me down the rabbit hole again. And this time I might not come out.

  I start walking down the hallway from the entrance to the student union with Lexi right by my side. My bond with her is growing stronger for sure. We pass by the bookstore and the game room. We turn in and do a quick tour, but get no joy. While not damaged too badly, anything that could’ve been used as a weapon, such as pool cues, balls, foosball arms, and other things have all been cherry picked out of here.

  We continue past a giant mockery to my growling stomach to a five-hundred-seat food court. Popeye’s, Panda Express, and something called Happy Tomato are among many long-abandoned eateries. The only purpose these places are serving now is to piss me off.

  We finally come to a large, open lounge space. The residents of the Murfreesboro Safe Zone must have adopted the union as an escape from their daily struggle. Sure, there isn’t any food, and there’s next to nothing in the way of fun. But there are books. And there is respite. It’s very quiet. Vast and cavernous.

  There are two more floors that need to be scavenged before we leave, but I decide to take Shields up on her advice. Lexi and I will take a quick power nap before we patrol the rest of this behemoth. Lexi will undoubtedly alert me to any trouble if it were to arrive. I pick a blue couch that’s in better than average condition and sit. It actually feels pretty damn good. I run my hands over the surface and notice patches in the fabric. The couch has been repaired in several places. I get up and walk around all the other pieces. The simple act of repairing the torn-up lounge furniture strikes me like a firm slap to the face.

  Shields is right. Dammit. These people had done everything they possibly could to remain… human. To maintain their humanity in the face of an ugly, unsafe, and destructive world. They taught the kids to sew. Taught them to scavenge. All for naught. I lay back down on the couch with Lexi at my feet and my mind in turmoil.

  Where is my humanity? What am I doing here? I came here to kill Kade because of the radio broadcast of a possible—no, probable—lunatic. Here I stand, where people who were just trying to live their lives the best way possible under the circumstances lost everything. They were a community not about surviving. Not about fighting. Not about dying. These people were about living.

  The Network, whatever it is, told them to find me. Why? I can only hope that I am not responsible for the massacre of these people. Sending Shields and Cole to find me saved their lives. Maybe the three of us are meant to do something?

  Oh, for fuck’s sake! I’m no holy warrior. I’m an asshole that moonlights as someone who gives a shit. I’m here to kill Kade for my own selfish reasons and I don’t give a fuck who I hurt in the process.

  I drift off feeling like the asshole I wasn’t trying to be but most likely am.

  I wake up a short time later
feeling disoriented and not very well rested. I sit up and reach down to confirm Lexi is still there, then stand up and stretch. Good lord, my body is breaking down. Wrestling with Cole had, in essence, almost completely undone what Doctor West did at the Normal Safe Zone. The stab wound to my chest has reopened and is bleeding through my shirt. I pull it up and see that the staples have come out and the wound doesn’t look great. Dammit! I left the meds in Jeep. The Doc was right, though. If I don’t take care of my injuries, infection will become a lethal problem. You know, if I’m not killed by a madman, his Freak army, or an ex-Army Ranger losing his grip.

  Lexi and I make our way out of the lounge and head down the walkway to a large staircase. Old signage hangs awkwardly from one side with a thin chain that directs me upstairs to the computer lab, student organization offices, and another dining area, this one less formal. I send Lexi up the stairs and start to follow when my stapled leg gives way under me. Jesus, it really hurts. I sit there on the stairs, grimacing, and debate calling for Cole to help me back to up to the front. Lexi’s looking me over and whimpering her concern.

  But I’m a proud man. I’m not going lame for any man… or dog. I jockey my ass down four or five steps to the bottom. Then I grab the handrail and force myself to stand. A stain is forming on my pants about seven inches above my knee. Blood. I’m very fortunate this was a stab wound and not a slice. If I’d been sliced, my quadriceps and I never would’ve left The 88.

  The hell with this. I need the meds from the Jeep. Now. I’m not going to lie, the vastness of the building is confusing me. I’m breaking out in the sweats again. I can feel my heartbeat racing. What is happening to me? I need to get my act together and get my ass to the Jeep. I force myself to start walking.

  “Lexi… JEEP!” I say. She looks back at me, barks sharply, and trots out several feet in front of me. “That’s it, girl. JEEP!”

  I follow her back the way we came and down a hallway I don’t even remember to the door that leads out to our vehicles. I grab the small duffel Jay gave me with changes of clothes and the bag from Doc West.

  I check through it and find the pain meds and antibiotics. Also the medical tape, gauze bandages, and some good old-fashioned Neosporin. My leg is seriously killing me and I start to think for the first time that while my mind is strong enough, my body might not be.

  No. That’s not right. I must be going crazy from the meds. It feels like I’m talking to myself… and answering back.

  I sling the duffel over my shoulder with a wince, then I tie the med bag to the duffel to keep both hands free and start back. Lexi leads the way once again, but soon we’re intercepted by Cole and Shields.

  “Where in the seven levels of Hell did you go, Prescott?” Cole snarls.

  I look at them both for a few seconds, then jerk my head towards the duffel. “Uh, Gandhi called and said he was hungry, so I went out looking for a salad.”

  Cole grabs my tie faster than I can react and jerks me close enough to see the crazy hiding behind his eyes. “Is this some kind of joke to you, motherfucker? Are all my friends dying the punchline to your bullshit escapade?”

  “No, Cole, absolutely not. I apologize. I meant no disrespect. I just thought it was obvious I went to my Jeep. That’s all, Cole. You are fucking up my favorite tie, though.”

  Cole rocks me with a head-butt and down I go. I need some Prego for my spaghetti legs. Honestly, I’m getting pretty tired of the head-butting. Dammit, that hurt. Lexi starts snarling and it quickly grows to a ferocious bark. She’s about go after Cole when I throw up my hands and yell, “Lexi! NO!”

  She stops her barking instantly and comes to me. She then walks slowly around me, staring at Cole the entire time. She comes full circle and sits directly in front of me, putting herself between Cole and me.

  “Look, Cole. Shit, man, I’m just trying to keep my head above water. I can’t possibly understand the place you and Shields are in right now. But I can tell what I do understand. Revenge. I didn’t know your friends. But I can help you get the guys who did this to them. What do you say?”

  He looks at me and his eyes glaze over. Who knows what’s going inside his head. I think he does the best he can under the circumstances, but he’s a victim of the Descent as much as anyone else. He’s a killer, though. I know guys like him. As much as he tried to fight it by coming to this community and attempting an emotional reset, he is hardwired to kill. And like it or not, his killer instinct is what is needed of him right now, and by the look in his eyes, he knows it.

  He eases up from his fighting position. “We’re not through, Prescott. Not by a long shot. If we make it through this, you and me are going to settle up. Got it?”

  “Yeah, I got it,” I wheeze.

  We all walk back together—albeit slowly on my account—to the front of the student union and regroup. I look at the four of us and almost laugh. We are a psychotherapist’s wet dream. A mother who’s lost her family, only to gain another one and lose it, too. An ex-Army Ranger with mental problems, who now has the worst case of survivor’s guilt imaginable. A guy whose sister was given over by her own father to a demon, to be murdered. And finally, a dog whose owner killed himself and locked her in the bathroom alone with his dead body.

  Bring it on.

  THE C-TEAM

  We need to talk before we go anywhere. There’s no doubt that all further actions of our group will center around a committed effort to kill Kendrick Kade. As a result, the discussion is rather short. I tell Shields she’s the coolest and most calculated of the three of us, therefore she should be in charge. Cole agrees. Shields is reluctant, saying that men are assholes and when the shit hits the fan one or both of us will either challenge her or straight up usurp her. I assure her that as the current weak link I don’t have the energy or ability to challenge her.

  “We’ll see what the Network has to say, if it’s even still with us,” Shields says rather mysteriously.

  “Here we go with the Network again. What the fuck is the Network?” I ask, exasperated.

  “You might just be about to find out.”

  “Good,” muttered Cole. “I hate to agree with Prescott, but I don’t think it matters who the hell knows about the Network anymore.”

  “You couldn’t be more wrong, Cole,” says Shields. “If the Network survived Kade’s attack, and that is a very big if, its secrecy is more vital than ever before. We can’t possibly protect it now. Weapons check. Bring everything you can carry. You’d best be armed to the teeth. Check your clips and be ready to fire. A misfire or a jam could mean your life. Wheels up in twenty.” Shields walked about fifteen paces away, unholstered her handgun, and started to examine it.

  “What?”

  “It’s from an old TV show,” says Cole. “She always says that no matter what we’re doing.”

  Is he warming up to me?

  Twenty-three minutes later we cautiously open the front doors of the former student union building and make our way towards the completely devastated Murfreesboro Safe Zone. The exterior of the building looks like a typical post-Descent skeleton. The majority of the glass exterior has been smashed, but there’s minimal damage to the structure.

  We make our way across the lawn and to the MSZ in a safe but expedited ten minutes. Shields is in front with a black-as-night twelve-gauge Mossberg shotgun, two Beretta M9 semi-automatic pistols holstered on her hips, and her katana in its sheath on her back. Cole brings up the rear with a Marlin lever-action hunting rifle. His eyes are on the roof and surrounding area and the outlying perimeter. He’s also carrying his Ranger standard-issue MK 46 assault rifle.

  Once inside the building, he ditches the rifle. He also has a Beretta 9mm pistol in a hip holster. As for me, I’m already slow due to my leg injury, so I have my two Glocks and a lightweight A-frame ladder. Lexi keeps pace on my other hip.

  The entire ten minutes it takes us to cross the distance between buildings, Jim Hawkins is just staring at me. The sign has somehow been perfectly placed
to land front and center on his chest when he was pushed off the roof. If there is any upside whatsoever, it is that he didn’t suffer. He didn’t struggle or fight to the amusement of Kade or his Freak parade. Before we started out, Cole requested, and Shields had agreed, that the first order of business was cutting Jim Hawkins down.

  I set up the ladder and hold it while Shields takes the hunting rifle from Cole and stands out in front doing a 360 rotation to cover us. Cole has taken serious steps to compartmentalize his grief and guilt to be on for the task at hand. He climbs up to the top of the ladder and cuts the rope. Hawkins drops gently over his shoulder and Cole climbs down. He carries his friend and commanding officer about ten feet away from the massacre site and lays him down gently on his back. Out of the large leg pocket of his fatigue pants, Cole produces a United States flag. He unfolds it and covers his friend. He salutes, turns, and jogs back to the group.

  “Okay,” he says. “Let’s do it.”

  “Wait one second,” says Shields. “Before we go inside I feel like I need to say something. We’re most likely about to see two hundred or more dead bodies in there. I need you to keep in mind, first and foremost, that we are here to discover the immediate condition of the Network. We cannot have our attention diverted or become distracted. Do you understand me? We don’t know anything. There might still be hostiles in there.”

  “Lexi and I have eyes on you and we go where you go.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” says Cole. “Eyes on your six.”

  “Good. Okay, let’s go.”

  We walk through the front entrance where the doors used to be and are immediately accosted by the ripe smell of new death. There are easily twenty or more bodies in immediate view, all of which have been staged grotesquely in a scene that is clearly welcoming us to the party. There’s a young woman sitting in a chair at the welcome desk whose throat has been cut so deeply her head is about to fall off. She has a sign placed in her hands that says: