THE KILLER ANGEL : Book Three Journey (THE KILLER ANGEL TRILOGY 3)

by Stafford, Myles

  Her guardians were nearby, cautiously observant. Even as they attended to their lost comrade, the man and woman who stayed close to Scottie in the fight maintained their vigilance. They were rough looking, and extremely well-armed, clearly her very alert, very possessive protectors.

  My heart was beating fast; this was not the reunion that I had for so long imagined, joyful and full of laughter. I hardly knew this hard woman, and the thought made me weep inside.

  Two fighters examined the remains of their fallen comrade, gently covering the head and upper body with a jacket.

  Then suddenly, a faint, pained groan escaped from a heap of marauders. Ben! I ran to the stinking pile of horror as Scottie watched without expression, and began dislodging bodies until I was able to clear my friend, his matted fur slick with black tar.

  Exhausted, filthy, limping and scarred, Ben had not been dealt a death blow, nor was he in any way seriously disabled. This dear animal had a special god watching over him.

  Fatigued and still panting from the recent exertion, Ben nevertheless firmly stayed by my side, appearing puzzled by Scottie. No doubt her appearance and scent troubled his perceptive canine senses, so he waited for my next move, as always.

  Retrieved from a pocket, Scottie used a small moist towel to wipe my face. “This is not a good place to catch up. We need to get you and Ben cleaned up in a secure location. Let’s go,” Scottie motioned to me, and then paused, looked down, and said in a warmer tone, “Hello Ben, I am pleased to meet you.”

  Ben looked at me briefly, then strolled closer to my sister for a sniff and a gentle rub. Scottie always had a special connection with the animal kingdom. Thank god for Ben, since his presence brought out something in Scottie that I feared was perhaps forever lost – her tender heart.

  Within a few hours of easy foot travel, our pace slowed as we approached a large compound fronted by a pair of sturdy gates, one behind the other, that were separated by a small, secure enclosure. “This is home, at least for now,” Scottie said as we turned a corner, looking at me with slight gleam in her eye - pride maybe?

  I looked onto a single, five-story building, situated in the middle of a cleared area – not a natural clearing per se, since there had obviously been other structures nearby, offices maybe, or retail shops. But it was all low rubble now, surrounded by high barbed wire.

  The remaining building itself was a nice, smaller hotel in its former life. Parking had been in the basement, which was secured by large gates, and all windows on the first two floors of the building were entirely blocked up. We continued walking towards the structure. I could see movement near the main gate.

  “We call it ‘Camelot’, our first of six completed locations so far. I came up with the concept of converting hotels into secure bases for us...and it has worked beautifully.” Scottie glowed. “They’re nearly perfect. Each had ideal sleeping quarters, an existing food service facility, and several of them had swimming pools on the roofs that we covered and converted into giant fresh water cisterns. We collect rain water and keep it potable through frequent testing, or pump up water and purify it. Flynn figures out how to re-pipe the existing systems and the resulting water pressure is great.”

  “Wow,” was all I could say, being both stunned and impressed with the accomplishment. In spite of everything, they were both still the consummate architects.

  “That’s not all,” my sister continued. “Flynn scavenged solar panels from all over and rewired the buildings to give us power. We have plenty for lights, cooking and some air-conditioning, which is quite a luxury here, as you can imagine.”

  I fully comprehended her words, since the Florida summer heat can be unbearable.

  “We have a fully stocked kitchen, medical clinic, and armory, of course. We also make diesel fuel.”

  That revelation surprised me. “Diesel fuel... for transportation?”

  “For several things – diesel generators and so on, but yes, also for transportation. We don’t drive much though; the diesel is time-consuming to make and it has a much shorter shelf-life than gas, so we keep the ingredients available, then make it when necessary for planned excursions. It’s something that Marshall Kellogg came up with.”

  “Kip’s dad?” I was happy to hear his name. “How is he? Is he here?”

  “No, Marshall is not often here Nicki,” Scottie smiled slightly, “but I’m sure he will be roaring up once he learns that you are in town. Right now he is at Windsor, our newest ‘castle’.”

  “And how will he learn?” I queried.

  “I’ll explain everything, my sister; but first, let’s get you and Ben cleaned up.” I had forgotten the residue of my all too recent runner encounter.

  Scottie took me to the suite that served as home for her and for Flynn. Tidy and comfortable, the room brought back memories of happier times, since they had warmly decorated it with items retrieved from our family home.

  I dropped my gear on the floor just inside the door; it would stand some thorough cleaning. Scottie did the same, then we both moved to the small bathroom.

  Together we took a moment to look into the mirror above the sink, as we had done hundreds of times before in our youth. The sisters who looked back at us, however, were so very different from the image of my memories. Somehow, I expected our younger, beautiful selves to be there still, gleeful, mischievous and animated, but what I beheld was entirely different.

  Beautiful, yes, though nearly empty of innocent joy and eagerness; no longer youthful; no, those were the faces of mature women - calm, confident, hardened in uncounted mortal trials - enured to suffering and deprivation. Physically damaged, yet somehow, all the more attractive for it. I felt pride in what I saw...in what we had become.

  Fresh, clean and invigorated, we exited Scottie’s suite wearing comfortable clothing from her simple wardrobe. We remained armed, but not heavily so.

  “Let me show you Flynn’s newest ‘toy’.” Scottie led me to a room on the top floor of the fortress. “He only recently started up full operation. We went nuts trying to find equipment that functioned correctly. After far too long, we realized that the Engleton EMP had fried most delicate electronics in the area, so we ‘shopped’ much farther away from the blast center and – eureka –success. Soon we were in business with ‘Radio Camelot.”’

  What had once been a nicely decorated accommodation for hotel business guests, was now a mechanical facility decked out with electronic equipment, some of it humming with powered life... radio life - receivers and transmitters. Larger than I had seen before, except at Camp Puller. Fans blew a breeze from several directions, and an air-conditioner pushed chilled air into the space. One woman working there smiled and nodded as we walked in, but she did not seek to engage us in conversation, seeming to immediately understand that Scottie needed privacy. The woman left the room.

  We sat down on a cushioned sofa, another rare luxury for me.

  “Previously, we were using much smaller radios, mostly portable.”

  I recalled the urgent message from Marshall Kellogg that had pushed Brick and me to commence our odyssey. “Scottie, in Hedley we picked up a frightening message from Marshall. He was en route from someplace that had been breached, maybe six months ago.”

  “Ahh, yes, that was a bad time for us.” Scottie’s face darkened as she remembered. “We learned some unpleasant lessons that day, but overall, it proved that our ‘castle’ system works, even with a catastrophic failure.”

  I listened in disquiet to my sister, myself reliving each vividly described moment as though I had been there, feeling the dangers and the losses.

  “Winchester,” Scottie began, “our original fourth facility just outside of Haydock. Marshall was there overseeing the demolition of buildings that surrounded our chosen hotel. It was a good location and met most of our criteria for a secure facility that could be improved to what we required. He had set up a concertina wire perimeter, which had always proven an excellent impediment to runners and human troub
lemakers alike. Unfortunately, we made the fatal mistake of not clearing a nearby arena before using explosives.”

  My mind was quickly imagining the scope of what Scottie, Flynn and Marshall were doing as they expanded their system of castles. In effect, they were building island safe zones for survivors, expanding civilized, human control over large areas of what would otherwise indefinitely remain deadly “no-man’s lands”. I was awed by the possibilities...and tremendously proud. It was brilliant, both in concept and in execution.

  “Our prep teams had cleared out runners for over a mile around Winchester, although there were very few creatures in the area who actually posed a threat, most being so emaciated that they could do no more than hiss and crawl.”

  “But somehow, hundreds, maybe over a thousand, very active runners survived in that arena, probably people tragically trapped at some game or show during the epidemic. There may have been many thousands at one time. They must have cannibalized one another to stay so strong, but we don’t really know. What we do know is that once our boys began the dynamite phase of demolition, someone opened the arena gates and unleashed that mob, and it headed straight for Marshall and our crew. Someone had been waiting for that opportunity.” Scottie stopped to consider her own words for a moment. “We have made a few enemies along the way, that’s for sure.

  “We had seventeen people there, Nicki; only Marshall and two others made it home. There was no way to defend against such a horde, even though they tried. When his perimeter was breached, Marshall made straight for Cromwell castle, which is where I was located at the time, and the nearest retreat from Winchester.

  “When I heard his distress call, part of which you picked up in Hedley, I knew there was no way that Marshall was going to make it through our gates. He was hours away by foot, and the one vehicle he was using had not been refueled and could not make it all the way from Winchester to Cromwell; nevertheless, the diesel truck did buy him distance and time. Ah...what a mess. Runner’s are so fast...” Scottie sat back; the memory seemed to exhaust her.

  “Within fifteen minutes of Marshall Kellogg’s call we were out the gates of Cromwell, twenty strong and loaded down with weapons, ammunition, explosives and air horns. We remained in radio contact. We knew approximately when his fuel would run out and where we would meet after that on foot.”

  “I wanted a tight avenue between tall buildings through which Marshall would pass, something my navigator had no trouble locating. My thought was to squeeze the runners into a tight path, and then use the air horns to coerce them into increasingly constricted passageways where their numbers could not overwhelm us.”

  “Something like the Spartans at Thermopylae,” I mused.

  “The same principle, yeah, although the similarity did not occur to us at the time.” Scottie noted. “The whole thing worked according to plan, thankfully. We were able to split the horde into two branches, the most massive section getting choked in our kill zone. With guns, Claymore mines and hand grenades, it wasn’t much of a contest, but it was nonetheless a scary, screaming awful mess.” I could visualize the merciless bedlam. Those monsters would never stop until every last one was dead.

  “We had expected that some of the creatures would continue after Marshall, so we had a five member team set up to guide him to an upper floor safe area that was easily defended. Once the large group was eliminated, we came up from behind and mopped up what remained of the second group.”

  “A few weeks later, Marshall Kellogg started his own, updated philosophy: ‘Never take a knife to a gunfight; and never get into a gunfight with or without a Redstone.’ A bit of a play on words, and a nice compliment. Marshall is quite a character these days.”

  Scottie leaned back, her arms folded. “So now, in developing a new facility, we do a better job of clearing our safe zone; we ensure that every vehicle is immediately refueled for an emergency return trip; we rig various, sequential lines of delay - whether runner or human – and have made numerous other improvements. Actually, we are always improving. At regular meetings, everyone has a voice and no idea is belittled; we constantly seek innovation. It’s a philosophy that works well in this environment. Everyone has a stake in our success, and all are motivated to help.”

  Impressive. I marveled at my sister - and who she had become.

  Eventually, the conversation drifted to the real reason for my presence in Florida.

  “Everyone here follows your story, Nicki. We’ve been expecting you; I figured you would come here first, before any diversion.” Scottie began. “Most travelers pass on some rumor or gossip. Of course, radio traffic brought news about you every day, but mostly unreliable stuff. It’s interesting, though; you seemed to be everywhere - Oregon. Japan. A submarine. Area 51. Quite the traveler. You and your famous Sioux friend.”

  “Brick Charbonneau,” I interjected.

  “Yes, and Ben. Heroic. Your radio presentation was a heart-stopper for all of us. When announcements of your presence along southern roads became frequent, we all realized that you probably were indeed getting close to Florida. That you would end up in the vicinity of our family homestead seemed the most logical point destination. I’d say we made it just in time.” A reference to the near disaster at our old home. I briefly wondered how much she had witnessed.

  “Then you know that Grampa, Gramma and Kip are doing great, waiting for us in Oregon.” I interjected.

  “Yes, of course.” Scottie replied, “But I’m not sure I’m going there. Not yet. I have a lot going on here.”

  Then, in a softer tone she said, “We are daddy’s legacy now, you and I.”

  My heart sank once again. “Tell me.”

  “We’ve been luckier than most, Nicki,” Scottie continued, “Think about it. How many millions – billions – were wiped out, yet we have more than our share of surviving loved ones. Something to ponder.” I nodded, acknowledging the concept.

  “So many bad things happened when the world fell apart... You should have been here, Nicki. I needed you.” My heart was breaking when she said those words, as she unintentionally stroked her wounded eye. She was one of the very few people who could really hurt me.

  “It’s a long, awful story...but they all are, I suppose. Daddy trained us well, don’t you think.” Scottie paused a second to consider, “How did he know?”

  I looked at my sister, scarred and damaged, just like me, physically, mentally. Her body was tight and muscular, hardened in the toughest times imaginable. She was unmistakeably my twin, but the determined fire that burned in her eyes lacked warmth; there was strength without compassion. I wondered if the gentle sister I once knew was lost forever, or was it deep inside of her, hidden in a hard, grim nature, carefully protected by Vulcan’s dark armor.

  At that precise moment I thought of my grandmother, gentle yet strong. Those moments when she would hold her twins close. We needed her comforting arms now, reassuring and calm.

  “Tell me what happened...and about Tara, and our niece,” I prodded calmly, preparing myself. I noticed that Scottie wore my father’s dog tags.

  “Je ne sais pas.” Scottie shrugged slightly. “Tara took Megan on a big cruise right before things really fell apart. That ship never returned, and we have been unable to find a trace of either of them. Every search, every rumor, every clue has been a dead end. I had messages dropped off at every possible place that they might stop. Hundreds maybe.” Scottie paused, revealing small frustration; then looked me firmly in the eye, “I never give up, Nicki...ever. Not on anything. Not until it is forced upon me.”

  I pondered the emphasized meaning of her words. She was much like me, my twin, and it made me proud, and a little afraid for her. I also considered the cruise that Tara and her daughter had boarded, the frightening memory of a listing cruise liner filled with the damned that Brick and I had sailed past off the coast of Oregon while in the company of our skipper, Gus. I had to push the awful memory from my mind, believing – as did Scottie – that one day we would find
our beloved sister and niece. What had Gus said about a cruise ship he’d passed in the Gulf?

  “Our parents,” Scottie resumed with a stone face, struggling nonetheless, “...everything happened so fast. You were in Phoenix, this we knew; Tara was on a cruise...we were all scattered with no real plan of action. God...how could anyone have had a plan?”

  “Mom was desperate to get to Quebec for our aunts and uncles there. Nicki, no one even guessed how bad it would get, you know?” I nodded.

  She closed her eyes for a moment. “We were at the airport when things...just...went...insane...”

  “First, screaming and yelling, both women and men, which was really unnerving; commotion coming from the arriving flights tram area. Then gunfire. Daddy told us to run for our car in the parking lot. “Stay calm; stay focused, no matter what happens,” he said. It was absolutely berserk pandemonium in all directions. People were down on the ground everywhere, crying, bleeding. Almost without stopping, Daddy grabbed a gun and spare clip from an unconscious policeman. A mob was after us, a crazy look in their eyes. Runners? Yeah, but who knew what runners were then?”

  My heart was in my throat; I almost could not bear to hear the rest.

  “We made it to the concrete stairs that led up to our parking level when they hit. God, so fast! We made it up four floors. Daddy kicking them back, yelling at us to run... RUN!... DON’T LOOK BACK!

  And we ran!

  “They kept coming. I could hear gunfire, but did not look back.” Scottie was reliving the moment, trembling slightly with fresh adrenalin.

  “In the car - start the engine - panic - GO! GO! GO! We burned our tires as I ripped around to pick up daddy. Nicki...Nicki...Nicki... They were all over him! Dozens. Dead and dying all around. He saw us. He looked at me... moved towards us. Another car... panic... smashing into him. He did not try to dodge it; he just stood there holding creatures with each arm. Over the rail, pavement forty feet below. Then he was gone...his body below, so small and alone...” Her eyes closed, squeezing out small tears, then softly, “I know he did it for us, but knowing that does not help...”