Deadrise 2: Deadwar

by Steven R. Gardner

  “I didn’t say that?” Matt defended, trying to ward off a fight.

  “But you were thinking it.” Matt’s silence was all the answer she needed. “I hadn’t seen Benny for over a month before he came looking for me.” Her anger was replaced with shame, and tears came to her eyes.

  “Whoa! I didn’t imply any such thing. I was just surprised.”

  “Why are you surprised?”

  “I don’t know. I never thought about it.”

  She wiped her eyes clear and sniffed. “Do you think I should keep it?”

  “What?”

  “Should I have Norris give me an abortion?”

  “What? An abortion?”

  “At this stage its probably just a shot or some medicine.”

  “Why the hell would you want to have an abortion?”

  “Do you want to try and raise a baby in this world?”

  “That’s our baby.” Matt said. “I don’t want you to have an abortion.”

  Any intention he had of telling her about his heart condition disappeared as all his thought turned toward his wife and their unborn child growing inside her. He pulled her tight to him, trying to quell her sobs, but found himself fighting back his own. “I love you so much…” he cried into her ear.

  “I love you to…” she answered back, pulling him even tighter, and together they held each other through the long hours of the night…

  CHAPTER 20

  Wednesday October 10, 2001

  Rainbow Lake UT

  4:48 PM

  As second in command of the Rainbow Lake Militia, and therefore Rainbow Lake itself, Colonel McReedy often found himself at the helm while the General was out in the field. At first Mac had pressured Jenkins to stay behind and let Captain Turner or Commander King command from the field, but Jenkins had been a lead by example guy since he’d first met him a few months ago. And since Mac had no real desire to return to the field unless absolutely necessary, baby-sitting Rainbow Lake became his responsibility. And Mel had been encouraging him to take advantage of the position and power he held.

  Mel. The thought of her voluptuous curves, highlighted by exotic body tattoos, flaming red hair and emerald green eyes began to arouse his passions. He had found her among the first of the Park City refugees, and from the moment their eyes met, there was an electric current between them. He had taken her to his bed the second night she had been at Rainbow Lake, and she had been there ever since. He felt a connection with her unlike any he had felt before. When they were apart, he felt anxious and vulnerable, her empty presence always tickling at the back of his mind. Only when she was in his arms, her hot flesh against his own, did he truly feel whole. He knew his feelings for here went beyond love and bordered on obsession, even addiction, but what could he do? He was a slave to her touch. Her skills as a lover were mind blowing, beyond anything he had ever experienced with a woman. She had stimulated erogenous zones on his body that he hadn’t even known existed. And the way she would look deep into his eyes, their energies overlapping, bonding in the heart and soul…it was pure magic…Heaven on earth. Mac couldn’t get enough.

  He pulled his mind away from thoughts of Mel, lest he walk around with a hard-on the remainder of his shift. He still had things to attend to. The General was out with Captain Turner and most of the Alpha Company scouting Rock Springs, leaving him in command. He left the Main House and climbed into the Toyota pickup assigned to him for personal transportation. Security protocol demanded that senior Militia personal and Council members were escorted by an armed guard, but he ordered the pair assigned him to remain behind. He had private business to attend to.

  It took him almost ten minutes to slowly follow the perimeter road around to the east side of the lake to the estate occupied by the Freebooter Smitty Tucker and his crew. A pair of heavily armed bikers guarded the front gate, but they let him pass without incident. Smitty had been trying to win his favor lately, giving him extra pain pills to supplement what Doc Reilly allotted him, which were never enough. He had even hinted at other, more beneficial perks to being his friend. When the biker had first contacted him his gut instinct told him to refuse any friendship that was offered; the man had been a lowlife criminal pre-plague, and from what Mac had seen since his arrival, he hadn’t changed much.

  But Mel had seen it differently. Why not take advantage of what he had to offer? Jenkins, Matt, Susan and Councilman Casey definitely were. Hell, half of the community obtained their drugs, alcohol, and other precious, rationed items from Smitty or a member of his crew. And for the most part the Council turned a blind eye. Patty, Sheriff Busley, Guy Hammonds and Doc Reilly were all concerned about the drug traffic, but short of driving the Freebooters off and implementing complete Totalitarianism there was really nothing that could be done about it; people who wanted to get drunk, stoned or loaded were going to find a way to do it, better to supply them than deny them and watch them destroy everything around them to get a fix. So long as the Freebooters kept things quiet, safe and under control, and applied the proper amount of grease to the wheels, the Council let them go about their business. So despite his better judgment, Mac had listened to Mel and accepted the biker’s friendship. Besides, it wasn’t like the pain pills weren’t appreciated. When one of the bikers had delivered the message that Smitty requested a private meeting, Mac had agreed.

  He parked the Toyota in the front lot and made his way to the entrance of the elegant, cabin style mansion. Smitty met him at the door, wearing denims, leather chaps, leather riding boots and a sleeveless leather vest and holding a bottle of whiskey in his hand.

  “Welcome, Colonel.” Mac shook his hand then followed the wiry biker inside. The interior of the mansion continued with the log cabin design, to comfortable results. Smitty led him into a large den on the main floor. It was aptly decorated with a roaring fireplace, bearskins along the walls and a large oak desk. A sliding glass door looked out on the backyard of the estate and the cold autumn waters of Rainbow Lake.

  “Please, have a seat.” Smitty beckoned him to one of the leather easy chairs that sat in front of the desk. “What would you like to drink?” The leather-clad biker was almost comical as a gracious host.

  “A cold beer, if you have one.” Mac said skeptically. They were rationed one a day with the evening meal among the community.

  Smitty just smiled and opened a small refrigerator hidden in a wall panel beside the desk. He pulled out a bottle of beer, moisture condensing on the outside of the bottle, twisted off the cap and handed it to Mac. He took a modest swallow, wanting to savor this rare treat.

  “Drink up. There is plenty more where that came from.” Smitty grinned, taking a long pull from his whiskey bottle. Mac didn’t need a second invitation to drink a cold beer… Once he had cracked his second bottle and taken a drink, he turned his mind to more serious matters.

  “So what’s on your mind?” he asked the biker.

  “I like how you took the time to have a beer before getting serious.” Smitty replied with an approving nod. “The General, he cuts straight to the chase. All business. But you know how to relax. I like that.” Mac thought he detected a hint of bitterness when Smitty mentioned the General.

  “You didn’t invite me here to have a beer.”

  “Of course I did. I invited you here to have a beer in hopes that we could become friends.”

  “I thought we were friends?” Mac took another sip of beer.

  “That’s yet to be decided.”

  “What about Jenkins? Isn’t he your friend?”

  “I like the General, but lately his judgment has been clouded. Ever since he took up with that Marshall woman,” Smitty’s voice was filled with venom.

  “Council Woman Marshall.” Mac corrected him, testing the limits of the Bikers respect for his authority.

  “Right…” Smitty said with a snort, tilting the whiskey bottle at him before taking a drink.

  “And your right,” he said, smiling at the surprised look on the biker
’s grizzled face. “She has clouded his thinking.” Mel had even said as much. Mac didn’t really see it. Other than a lack of tension in his body language, and a softening of his razor sharp, sometimes bitter wit, he seemed the same old Jenkins. Neverthe-less, Mel warned him not to trust Patty.

  And he did whatever Mel asked of him.

  For a moment his mind wandered to her, and he felt a stab of depression in his heart that he was not in bed with her, naked, wrapped in her long legs, deep inside her… His skin ached for her touch. Soon enough… He could almost hear her whisper in his ear. It was never soon enough. Every moment spent away from her warmth was too long.

  “The Council has been cracking down on my cut of contraband salvage. I’m supposed to turn over all drugs and medication, but I skim. Everybody knows it. For the longest time, the militiamen checking us in didn’t search too hard. Now that the General is with Council Woman Marshall, they have turned on the heat, even patting me and my guys down.” Smitty looked and sounded like a man wronged.

  “What can I do about that?” Mac asked, almost laughing at the biker’s plight.

  “Your the second most powerful man in Rainbow Lake. I know you have men that are loyal to you first. Get them assigned to tariff duty…”

  Mac had taken a new unit, Bravo Four, under his wing. He knew their loyalties lied with him, not Jenkins. “What’s in it for me?”

  “A five percent cut of my take for you. How you decide to spread that among your men is your business.”

  Mac looked Smitty in the eyes, long and hard. He felt a spark of hot adrenaline flare deep inside him. It felt good. Damn good. “So it’s not just a friend you are looking for… You need a partner.” Smitty didn’t answer him, just took a long pull of whiskey.

  “Five percent for me, but you have to take care of my men.” Smitty grimaced. “Like you said, I’m the second most powerful man in Rainbow Lake. The General is away half of the time, leaving me in charge. I can cover my end of the deal without a hitch. That’s worth ten percent. You have to take care of the tariff squad. They are young men. Their needs will be easy to fulfill; Sex, whiskey, drugs.”

  “Looks like we are friends after all…” he extended his hand over the desk. McReedy took it, “Partner.” Smitty said with a smile as they shook.

  McReedy stayed and enjoyed a couple more beers before the longing ache for Mel’s hot flesh was simply too much for him to bear. Excusing himself, he hurried to the Toyota and sped home along the perimeter road.

  With a five percent cut of the Freebooters contraband he would need to move from the Main House. He and Mel had been discussing relocating to one of the mid-sized cabins located around the lake. Now he had a reason. He knew Mel would be proud of what he had accomplished today. She was always telling him that he needed to assert his authority more often. The General was gone more than not. McReedy knew the day-to-day workings of the community and the Militia better than Jenkins. Jenkins won’t be around forever. That’s what Mel would often say, and he always felt there was much more to her words.

  His head began to ache. He had only drank five beers, barely enough to give him a buzz. Oh well, it wasn’t anything that Mel’s soft flesh wouldn’t take care of. I’m on my way baby. It didn’t take long before Mac’s thoughts were once again occupied with making love to Mel…

  CHAPTER 21

  Thursday, October 25, 2001

  Somewhere in the South Pacific

  8:03 AM

  The Learjet flew low to the water; its destination a small chain of islands approximately fifty miles ahead. The island of choice was relatively small, two and a half miles at it’s longest and a mile at its widest but by far the largest among the chain of twelve.

  As they jet drew nearer, its occupants could make out structures on several of the smaller islands; two or three buildings, a helicopter landing pad, a boat dock, an array of radio antenna and satellite dishes here and there. But soon all attention was focused on the main island of the chain. The Learjet approached from the north, revealing cliffs several hundred feet tall where that part of the island had simply slid into the ocean at some point, thousands of years in the past. The jet circled round to the west where a small United States Military airport was cut into the semi-tropical forest, complete with two runways, an air control tower, two hangars and half a dozen other small buildings. But as they drew nearer the signs of battle became apparent; the main runway was disabled with the wreckage of a military transport plane scattered along half its length. The secondary runway was mostly clear with only the wreckage of a small helicopter at the far end. A handful of zombies could be seen staggering about, spread across the entire airport grounds. The withered, weathered remains of dozens of corpses littered both runways as well as the grounds around the building’s with the majority centered around the air control tower, most likely the place where the human inhabitants had made their last stand.

  The Learjet touched down flawlessly on the secondary runway, the wings clipping the only staggering zombie in the path. The plane taxied to a halt near the control tower and seconds later, the main hatch opened along the starboard fuselage and out poured a dozen men clad in white robes and carrying AK-47 assault rifles. They quickly set about securing the immediate perimeter.

  A thirteenth white robed man stepped from the Learjet… Mordecai Necrotura. He was tall and thin and strode with a predators grace…fluid and deadly. He had albino pale skin and blood red eyes centered with black, vertical slits that scanned about, missing nothing. It had been thirty-eight years since he had last been on this island, but the memories were still as fresh as if it had been yesterday.

  Mordecai had first come to these islands in 1959, funding an archaeological expedition headed by Dr. Lodi Pentak. Dr. Pentak was an explorer, occultist and mad man. He had been searching for traces of an ancient civilization that he believed existed in 30,000 B.C. If it were true, said civilization would pre-date nearly 25,000 years of accepted history. He had yellowed parchments on which were scribbled ancient clues and maps supposedly leading to the island chain on which this civilization resided. Dr. Pentak was routinely laughed at then ignored by potential investors. It was Mordecai who eventually financed the expedition, sparing no expense and giving Dr. Pentak plenty of legal and moral leeway in the undertaking. Dr. Pentak had proven his theory, uncovering traces of a demon worshipping civilization dating approximately 30,000 B.C. Further evidence also suggested that this chain of twelve islands had once been a single island, destroyed in a giant volcanic explosion, leaving the scattered chain of today. But Dr. Pentak had also unleashed powerful supernatural forces put in place by the shamans and sorcerers of this ancient civilization, awakening powerful guardian beasts and wicked curses upon the members of the expedition. All were killed save Mordecai and Dr. Pentak, and the good Doctor had been drooling mad when the rescue boat had retrieved him. He died twelve hours later, and Mordecai used his vast wealth and connections to erase all record of the Pentak expedition, going so far as to murder those that had retrieved the Dr. and heard his mad tales of demons, monsters and walking dead. The only remnants of the expedition and the knowledge gained resided in Mordecai’s memory…and the small urn containing Dr. Pentak’s ashes, which Mordecai kept in the effects closet of his Communion Chamber. Mordecai used them to contact the Dr.’s restless spirit from time to time.

  In 1964, Mordecai had again been drawn to this island, only this time at the behest of the Krylok whom he had been in telepathic contact with since childhood. They had recently revealed their true selves…hideous alien invaders. But they promised Mordecai the power and means to conquer the earth. They failed to tell him that said power came with a price…implantation with an alien slug and transformation into a hybrid under the control of the Krylok. It was a price Mordecai would never pay. But the Krylok were not about to take no for an answer. Mordecai was genetically compatible for hybrid conversion, one in one hundred million. They were not about to let him escape. Unbeknownst to Mordecai until much
later, he had been under the covert surveillance of the United States Military. They suspected he had been in contact with Extra Terrestrials for some time, and had been watching him since early 1960. They sent in a Marine Combat Unit to arrest Mordecai and contain any alien presence on the island. What ensued was a wild battle between the Krylok and the Marines, with Mordecai caught in the middle. The aliens were defeated, and their spacecraft was captured, as was a Sentinel. As in 1959, he barely escaped with his life and once again used his wealth and power to protect himself. That was the last time he had been on these islands.

  Afterwards, the United States Military simply claimed the entire island chain, giving it the unassuming name of Outpost 11. Over the years it had become a holding and containment facility as well as all around dumping ground for the Pentagon. It was the place They made you disappear to…the place where terrorists were sent to be interrogated…the place where survivors from unauthorized government experiments were housed until all useful information was gleaned from them before they were exterminated. The last scraps of every covert project the government had tried to sweep under the rug found their way here…The place the Pentagon had kept the Sentinel and damaged Krylok spacecraft stored since 1964.

  That was the reason Mordecai had returned to this island after thirty-eight years. His eyes surveyed the mountain rising up behind the control tower. He knew that it was honeycombed with passages and holding cells, warehouses, laboratories and firing ranges. He had astral projected here several times over the years, thoroughly exploring each and every room and hallway. and for years he had tried to infiltrate Outpost 11 with his own people, but it had been to no avail. It was one of those places that simply did not exist.

  He gave another mental command and he and a majority of his Templars moved past the control tower and started along a narrow dirt road that wound out of sight into the jungle. It led to the base entrance. Four Templars remained behind to guard and refuel the Learjet. It was sweltering hot, but Mordecai’s hybrid metabolism enjoyed the heat and humidity. As they wound along the road, Mordecai reached out with his psychic senses, probing the jungle for any hidden zombies. Before long they came to the base entrance, a large steel door set into a cave opening. A pair of Templars hurried over to the control box set into the rock alongside the door, pulling some bypass equipment from their packs and getting to work…A few minutes later the door slid open with a hiss of escaping air and Mordecai and his entourage swept inside.