by LC Champlin
With the flanking maneuver, the cannibals shifted toward the center or fell to the blades.
“Net holders, now!”
They pushed against the cannibals, triggering the reflex to attack. But this time the monsters thrashed like beasts in a net. Had they learned from their cohorts? Not good.
“Advance! Kill them!” Dying here amid mostly strangers didn’t enter the options list.
Team Redwood pushed the Dalits into the channel, which hampered the monsters’ movement. After what seemed like half a day but amounted to less than three minutes, the cannibals lay sprawled in mutilated heaps, or floated in the brine with oil clouds blossoming around them. Whether Davy Jones would claim their souls remained a mystery.
“It looks like you guys are in the clear,” reported the fisherman. “See?”
Everyone turned. The cannibals on shore had moved away from the seawall. Now only a few lingered. The rest meandered out of view among the houses.
“Thank God,” Nathan murmured. Again God had spared His conqueror.
Before he could reach for his HT, Amanda grabbed hers. “Girls, can you hear me?”
“Mom! We did what Nathan said. They stopped hissing. But now they’re trying to knock down the door. You guys better get back here. We told the Singhs and a couple of the other adults, but I don’t know . . .”
“Good work, girls.” Shoulders drooping with relief, their mother smiled. “We’ll be right there.”
“Well done,” Nathan added. “You may have just saved a number of lives.”
“Really? Cool!”
Chapter 23
Travel Plans
Ready for This - All Good Things
“It’s too dangerous to keep them here,” Nathan declared as he stood with arms crossed in the Nelsons’ driveway. “We aren’t certain they drew the hordes, but we can’t afford to take the risk.”
“Where are we going to put them?” Josephine cast a look of doubt at the neighborhood.
Lips pursed, Amanda looked toward the southwest. “We need to keep them outside the community, or we’ll have to get rid of them. I know it would be good to have some around to study, or whatever it is you’re planning”—she gave Nathan a look of uncertainty—“but we might just have to get more later.”
“Is there perhaps a dog kennel nearby we could use?” It had worked for Ken.
“No. Wait!” Amanda’s eyes lit up. “There is a self-storage facility just as you get off the freeway.”
“That would do.”
“Which begs the question,” Josephine continued, “how are we going to move them?”
A smile curled Nathan’s lip. Moving cannibals en mass? Now that he had experience with. Well, he had experience watching the Goats move cannibals.
They found a 6x8-foot enclosed trailer that fit the specifications. A few of the neighbors brought plywood to make a chute, fixing the wood between the corners of the garage and trailer.
Against all predictions to the contrary, the Dalits cooperated by wandering into the trailer. Josephine and Amanda slammed the door behind them, with Nathan following to slip a padlock around the latch.
“How long have those creatures been in there?” From across the street, that voice—
“Mrs. Wong.” Nathan turned to find her glaring at him from the sidewalk. “Long enough.”
Now, to get this shipment underway—
“Nathan.” Amanda’s tone held uncertainty and a touch of apology.
Behind her milled several residents. They avoided making eye contact with him.
“How can I help you?” Casual, he rested a hand on the side of the truck. Foreboding prickled along his skin; a disturbance in the Force.
“They . . .” She glanced back at the people. “They want to find their family members. The ones who were injured when they fought the cannibals at Heron Court.”
“Understandable.” Shit, why did they have to throw sand in the gearbox? If some left, more would want to follow. However, if he refused to let them go, they and their neighbors would sense confinement and begin to panic.
“Finally some sense,” snapped Mrs. Wong. “Even the government is better than these people.” She flicked her hand toward Nathan and Amanda in turn, dismissing the inferior beings.
“Excuse me,” a young Caucasian male from the group of would-be deserters began, looking at Nathan’s forehead rather than his eyes, “my sister is one of the people who got hurt. I want to know if she’s okay.” He looked around for support from his fellow conscientious objectors. “And if she’s in a better situation than I am, well . . .” He shrugged.
Nathan nodded to buy time. “And you all feel this way?”
They voiced agreement.
“I see.” Jettisoning the ballast—the deserters—might help Redwood Shores sail the course.
Idly he tapped his fingers on the side of the truck. Thud! answered the cannibals, rattling the trailer’s fiberglass walls. Soon the Dalits would begin struggling to escape.
Amanda turned to face the group. “I know all of you are concerned about your families. But also think of this place. Your neighbors need your help.”
Pushing away from the vehicle, Nathan approached them. “It’s a considerable distance between here and the command center at SFO. The roads are at a standstill with traffic, meaning you would have to go on foot. Cannibals and raiders are only growing more abundant.
“I’m sure your family members and friends are well taken care of. The government may even be planning to return them here.” Doubtful.
“It’s not just them,” a blonde woman put in as she placed a hand on the concerned brother’s shoulder. “Those cannibals—they came in a group across the channel. We thought the water would stop them.”
Frightened looks flitted between the people. Cowards.
“And we pushed them back.” Nathan folded his arms, partly to support his aching ribs. Standing for too long drew their ire.
Other people on the street, noticing the exchange in the Nelsons’ driveway, began to approach. This needed to end. Now.
“No one said this place was without danger,” Nathan reminded them. “When you choose to evacuate with the government, you are at their mercy. Here you have food and water. Here you can make a difference. The lives of your fellow residents depend on your efforts. The people who only an hour ago took down almost thirty cannibals are no different from you. They saw a reason to fight, and they did so, even though they were afraid.” As he spoke, he stood to his full height and attempted to meet each person’s gaze, including those who had gathered to gawk. Some of the group looked at their feet, while others glared at him.
“No,” responded the original malcontent, taking a deep breath. “I know the government will protect us. It’s their job.” He clenched his fist over his heart at this. “They know what they’re doing. You don’t.”
He didn’t? He’d only helped them create a defense force that had repelled two dozen cannibals. His fingers curled into his palms as his knuckles ached to strike. “You don’t require my permission to leave. This isn’t a prison, nor is it a cult.”
“We thought . . .” The blonde who’d made herself the second spokesperson glanced around at her Idiot Squad before continuing: “We thought you could contact the people at the government.” Entitlement gave her confidence.
Chest swelling with courage from her opinion, Yuppie Boy nodded. “That’s right. You owe us.”
“I owe you?” Typical of Californians: the less logic an idea possessed, the more they loved it. But denying the request in front of the growing crowd of Redwood Shores residents would be bad PR. Or so Janine would think.
Fuck, if only she could be here—or he there. Blast, he shouldn’t use that language when he thought about her. He’d promised her six years ago he wouldn’t use it at all. That promise had crumbled over the weekend.
“Well, are you going to help us?”
Returning to re
ality, Nathan sniffed. The pain pill had begun to kick in, but with the diminishing ache came diminishing ability to keep reality in its proper place. If he waited any longer, he might just tell them to fuck off.
“I’ll have Josephine contact the government representatives. Then it’s in their court.”
Chapter 24
Departure Times
Hot Gates - Mumford and Sons
“Marvin,” Albin called as he approached the economist.
Bridges didn’t respond, remaining as Albin had found him: standing in the middle of the baggage claim area, his gaze as empty as the carousels about him.
Albin halted beside the other man. “Are you still disturbed by the incident at the cloverleaf?”
“The incident?” Outrage and disbelief formed an amalgam, hardening Bridges’s tone. He grimaced as if undergoing torture. “You mean the slaughter? The massacre?”
“It was not a premeditated act. That does not absolve them, I agree. However, this is not the time for sentiment, nor is it the time for hesitation.”
With a harrumph, the economist shoved his hands into his pockets. “What are you doing here?”
“Excuse me?”
“Are you going to talk with Nathan, or are you going to leave on the next flight out of here?”
“I have yet to be provided a departure time. Or are you in possession of information that I lack?”
“No.”
Silence settled as Albin too gazed at the luggage carousels. If given the opportunity, would he leave, or would he remain in hopes of bringing Mr. Serebus back to sanity? Or would he seek evidence to brink the man to justice?
After witnessing what the government had perpetrated on the civilians, one wondered if Mr. Serebus had a point. Albin twitched his shoulders in annoyance. No, Mr. Serebus should leave the people in the hands of the government now that he had stabilized the neighborhood. He lacked the resources to truly protect them, or to develop the research concerning the cannibals.
“You haven’t answered me, Albin. What are you going to do?”
“Lieutenant Colonel Wozniak believes I should help Mr. Serebus see the error of his ways.”
“Oh? And did Doctor Oz have any other suggestions, such as how you should do that without him shooting you?”
“There you two are!” Kuznetsov’s voice echoed in the deserted expanse.
Neither Albin nor Bridges turned.
“Officer Rodriguez was just by.” Halting at Albin’s left, the hardware engineer followed his gaze to the luggage carousels. Failing to see anything of interest, he stepped in front of the men to gain their attention. “She says Redwood Shores has been in contact with them.”
“What?” Albin’s spine stiffened. Had they spoken with Mr. Serebus?
“Apparently some of the neighborhood residents want to leave.”
“Why? What transpired there?”
“I don’t know.” Kuznetsov shrugged. “The people want to see their families again. The government is going to send a few of the injured back if they want, but I think most are happy to be out of danger. But Badal wants to go with them.” He looked down to ponder the tiles.
“I see.”
“Albin, what are you doing?” repeated Bridges.
What indeed? “I need to escort Mr. Shukla and Mr. Nelson. They are vulnerable on their own.”
“Then what?”
Albin opened his mouth to reply, but Kuznetsov interrupted. “He’s coming back here, of course. What else would he do?”
“Excuse me, gentlemen.” With a nod, Albin strode back down the concourse, his pulse throbbing in his temples, sending hammer blows of pain through his skull.
He would do what the situation required.
++++++++++++
Albin drove, while Nelson sat in the front seat and Shukla occupied the rear. Silence filled the cab.
While the passengers kept their blank stares on the dark buildings and bumper-to-bumper traffic around them, Albin focused on the patrol car ahead. The convoy, if one called five vehicles such, turned toward Coyote Point Recreational Area. Halfway between San Francisco International Airport and Redwood Shores, it made an appealing meeting location. Also, the government and civilians maintained a presence on the point as they evacuated the animals at the CuriOdyssey and the SPCA facilities.
Grass replaced concrete as the convoy entered the recreational area. A golf course and woods made the site a popular destination for Silicon Valley residents, or so Nelson had claimed.
“I bring Zander here sometimes,” the father remarked. “He loves the Magic Mountain Playground.” Pain filled his smile.
Shifting in his seat, Albin followed the cruiser as it swung into the car park. Other vehicles occupied the lot, but he could not ascertain if they belonged to people from Redwood Shores.
A group of people milled behind a police officer at the far end of the asphalt. Among them waited Josephine Behrmann. When she spotted Albin exiting the truck, she waved. He returned the gesture, subdued. Did she consider the rift between them healed? She sided with Mr. Serebus, condoning the dark man’s behavior and, by extension, his betrayal of Albin.
The other vehicles from the airport convoy released their passengers. Eduardo’s driver Loto had opted to stay with the government. A wise choice, considering who governed Redwood Shores.
The officers herded the two groups together, which resulted in embraces and tears. Shukla refrained from embracing anyone, though he did shake hands with Behrmann before moving to the opposite side of the herd.
The reporter joined Albin a few meters from the group’s periphery. She looked up from filming on her phone to beam at him. “Albin, it’s so good to see you again. We’ve been worried about you. And Nathan can use your help.”
We? Not Mr. Serebus, surely. “The help I come to offer is, I fear, not the help he will accept.”
“What are you talking about?” Her face fell. “You’re coming back to Redwood, aren’t you? That’s why you’re here.” She added the last sentence as if to remind him.
“Ms. Josephine, where is Mr. Serebus?”
“Ah.” Glancing about, she chewed her lip. “He’s . . . around.”
“He still does not wish to make open contact with the authorities, correct?”
“He wants to make this go as smoothly as possible.”
“Where is he?”
Concern on her features, she nodded toward the picnic area on their left. Trees surrounded it, blocking a clear view of the tables.
“Thank you.”
As he stalked toward it, he passed a sign pointing the way to Magic Mountain Playground. How did Zander fair without his parents?
Shadows lengthened in the trees. An outbuilding housing washrooms hunched at the northern edge of the paved picnic lot. A figure peeled from the side of the structure. Tall and assured, he strode to the edge of the trees. “Albin.”
“Mr. Serebus.” No emotion changed the attorney’s tone.
“Are you going to shoot me again?” Brow cocked, Mr. Serebus smirked as he held his arms from his sides, inviting.
Chapter 25
Big Bad Wolf
Are You Satisfied - Reignwolf
“Have you decided to accompany me back to San Francisco International Airport, sir?” Albin asked, removing his glasses. “You will soon be recovered enough for air travel. Redwood Shores has been stabilized, I assume. Amanda is capable of leading them now.” She could decide if evacuation suited the residents.
“She is a capable leader, but that’s not the point.” In an effort to appear casual, Mr. Serebus leaned a shoulder against the nearest tree, but his hand slid to the incision on his left side.
The words only reaffirmed the belief that Mr. Serebus would hold his position. No depth remained for Albin’s heart to sink. “The point is to dominate them while you find a way to control the cannibals, as you told me. You are interested in power for power’s sake.”
&nb
sp; A sarcastic smile appeared on Mr. Serebus’s lips. “Before you shot me, I explained that I intended to stop the epidemic. The people of Redwood are going to help me save the city and perhaps the world.”
“If the ReMOT begins to function, will you stop the cannibals, or will you control them?”
“As I said, I’ll save the world. That might take an unconventional form by the time we’re able to use the ReMOT.” His offhanded tone brought anything but reassurance.
“You insist on remaining where you are, then.”
His dark eyes narrowed. “I have resources in Redwood Shores. The researchers have already located a building across the channel where they can develop the Goats’ files and the ReMOT. We’re establishing a defense force and teaching everyone to protect themselves. There are even desalinization facilities in case the city cuts off our water. Do you still think I’m a thorn in their side?”
“When do you plan to leave?” Albin folded his arms as he regarded Mr. Serebus.
“When the time is right. You were the deserter, not me.”
“I made provisions for them with the government. What have you done? How will you feed them? Will you become a raider like your ancestors and hero Ragnar Lothbrok?”
“Salvaging supplies didn’t bother you when you benefited from them. Come back and—”
“I am not returning with you, sir.”
Their gazes locked. Neither man blinked.
+++++++++++
Why did the attorney have to make everything difficult? “Albin,” Nathan began in the tone he would use to scold Davie for willful disobedience, “how did you suddenly turn into a bleeding heart?”
“I am not a bleeding heart—”
“You’re certainly acting like one.” Disappointment weighed on Nathan’s shoulders as he pushed away from the tree. “What happened? You were once a wolf like me. Now you want to cower with the government as their dog. I don’t know what the problem is, but you need to get over it and come back. It’s bloody difficult running things without an adviser.” Actually, projects proceeded well at Redwood. But he couldn’t have his right-hand man going rogue. What sort of image did that present?
