Legacy of the Living

by Sean Liebling

  Just then, Dane came running up with Mouse trailing behind him. Both were obviously excited, but in a good way, and the Reaper raised an eyebrow as Mouse grabbed his arm trying to hurry him up while Dane began talking urgently.

  "Alethea, Reaper. You're not going to believe this. Come quick both of you and see what the mechanics have come up with!" With glee, Dane took off running again and the Reaper followed much more slowly with Alethea on one side and Mouse on the other, still tugging.

  *****

  "Thank you, love. That was wonderful," Travis murmured as he lay on his back, Darlene on top of him, and he felt his cock slowly shriveling from within her hot little box. Like the Reaper, he also was recovering from a side wound; it was not serious but did prevent him from performing his manly duties in the usual on-top position. He had tried but the pain that it created had left him gasping and light headed. Darlene had immediately rolled him over and climbed aboard. To Travis's delight, she was quite talented in that department and had performed most of the work. The only inconvenience was that she was still lactating even though he had thoroughly sucked on them, which meant they squirted breast milk every time he squeezed. Well, it could be said that he did not empty them because he was saving most of that good stuff for her kid. That was, however, when he realized breast milk was quite sticky when it dried.

  "No! Thank you, Travis. Without you and the Reaper, I would have died. My sons would have died! Besides, I needed this at least as much as you did. We've been so scared, and it's men like you and women like Alethea that may mean my sons grow up to be men." Early this morning when their doctor had cleaned and stitched him up, he had been too exhausted to remember much of anything. He barely remembered being led to a private room to recuperate, then nothing after that until Darlene woke him about two hours ago. She had heard he and the Reaper were here and had come looking for him, and what the Reaper didn't know, wouldn't hurt him, was Travis's thinking.

  “Aw, babe. No big deal." Travis winced as his cock shriveled enough to fall from her and sighed theatrically. "Damn. I hate that part."

  Darlene giggled and patted him on the chest, then kissed him softly as she continued to lie on top, straddling him. "Aw, my poor baby. Don't worry. Alethea told everyone you guys would be here for a couple of days. Plenty of time for more." Then she giggled again.

  Travis kissed her back. He was sure the Reaper would be around soon and rousing him out of bed. One thing the Reaper was good for was his mission priorities. Nothing got in the way of those. Well, at least he would enjoy Darlene while he could. They would be here for a day or two, then head out again. During that time, he intended to have as much fun as possible. Right now, he needed a damn shower.

  *****

  Jean smiled to herself as she checked on the ladies preparing lunch for the children. The original idea had been to bus the kids back to the compound for meals. Then it was decided that since they had afternoon classes, they’d bring the prepared lunch here. And so they did. They used the catering equipment from the school kitchen to bring lunch back from the main compound. They had plenty to feed the children and staff. Now the new lunch ladies were getting the cafeteria ready. As soon as she saw lunch safely served, she needed to check on work going on at the Shady Rest Retirement Community. Those apartments and homes had been dedicated to Lieutenant Colonel Botello's men and women, as had the three hundred unit apartment complex just to its east along the same road and very near the compound.

  It was a lot of work for their cleaning crews to perform quickly. Each unit needed to be thorough wiped down with disinfectant from the ceiling down, and all bedding either washed or replaced. The washed bedding needed to be hung out to dry, which took longer in these colder temperatures, and mattresses had to be fumigated. Thank God for the Orkin Warehouse nearby. That would not last forever, but her lover had assured her bleach and a DDT equivalent was relatively easy to manufacture. Bleach was fine with her, and needed, but an outlawed pesticide? Jean did not want any of these young children surviving the apocalypse just to get cancer. She would have to have a talk with him about that.

  The older children were still on food gathering parties on local farms. They would be busy at that for quite some time, which was good and bad. Good because it gave her an extra month to get the school working properly, and bad in that it would mean longer educational hours for those older children once they were able to attend. At least it would keep them out of trouble, Jean snickered to herself.

  She squirmed in her seat, remembering the feel of Jay within her, moving in and out, slow then fast, then slow again. His strong hands supporting her, lifting her up and down as his hard length stretched her insides, the smell of his cologne as he leaned into her; manly, yet not overpowering like so many men. Then his kisses, soft, yet demanding, urgent and needy. She knew he needed her. He not only told her, he showed her, and not through sex but through his words, his touch, his eyes. Their time together this morning had been too short, but for all that it had been simply perfect. She sighed as she smiled down at her desk, lost in memories of Jay. By using her fingers to rub herself, she managed to cum twice as they made love, both times, very good indeed. Oh well, I'm not going to get anything done sitting here staring at nothing, she thought with a small laugh as she rose and left her office. Her two-man security detail was waiting outside the door. She was thankful for them. They needed to recheck the outlying grounds maintenance buildings on the other side of the soccer field, and do inventory first. She knew more soldiers would accompany them, for you never knew if the zombies would be hiding inside one of the buildings.

  The first equipment building contained just that, sports equipment, and quite a bit of it. Jean made detailed lists which she would provide to Miguel later in the day, then moved to the next one. This one was different. The latch securing the entrance had been broken off since its last inspection and the door, while mostly closed, was still slightly ajar. Her security detail pulled her back and the four soldiers assigned for clearing buildings were already moving forward with two raising their plastic riot shields and the other two holding their rifles ready. Battery powered flood lamps taped to the top of their carbines lit the interior like the inside of the sun as they moved inside slowly.

  Gunfire immediately erupted from within and Jean felt herself pulled even further back as her security sandwiched her between them, with one soldier standing before her and the other at her back facing outward. She gasped as thumps sounded from inside the equipment shed, intermixed with more gunfire. Then silence, as she held her breath. After a week and a half, finding and killing zombies was old news, yet it still sent adrenaline through her system and gave her a thrill when it occurred.

  "It's clear but we'll need cleanup, Ma'am," one of the four that exited remarked to her. He wiped his eyes before continuing, "I can't let you inside, Ma'am, but I think we found two of the missing children from the other night."

  "Oh my God, no!" Jean blurted then started crying. Instinctively she reached out and hugged this young man who had to bear these horrific duties. They knew those missing were probably dead, yet still held hope they would be found. The soldier held her as she sobbed and she felt his own shoulders shake as emotions wracked his body. Finally, she pulled away and asked, "Are you sure?"

  "Yes, Ma'am. Two small children, recently deceased. It has to be them. We searched all these last week. They must have dragged them here to feed, or killed them and then carried them here. I choose to believe they died quickly."

  "Me too. Oh my God, me too," and she started crying again as the young man's arms folded around her.

  *****

  Nolan watched through the binoculars as Jean hugged the soldier before her. It was obvious something had been discovered in the shed after the biologicals were disposed of, and he could only guess what that might have been.

  He was hiding across the street near the edge of a local pond, with Cobb and Locke beside him. All three men were dressed in rough farmhand clothes taken
from several deserted homes while they walked in. The ten mile trek to Newaygo had been adventurous, to say the least, with loose zombies running around everywhere, but getting past the cleared out zone had been major work because of the patrols. They had been forced to low crawl across it, taking advantage of the furrowed ground at the height of a shift change. He concentrated on the scene before him.

  This woman's security was tight! The soldiers with her were obviously veterans and knew their business. Nolan was positive he, Cobb, and Locke could take them, but wasn't so sure the asset wouldn't be damaged, perhaps irreversibly, in the process. Even while holding her the young soldier was holding his carbine by its pistol grip, ready to be brought into instant play, and as Nolan watched, he could just make out the other’s eyes constantly roaming his field of fire. The other soldiers had already set up a cordon around the woman, each occupied with their own field of fire and trusting the others to do the same. No, these six would be tough to take down in broad daylight.

  “What do you think?” whispered Cobb.

  “I think we wait for a better opportunity. Too dicey right now. Too many patrols. We’ll hide and wait for another opportunity,” answered Nolan, while pointing to their right. Just north of their position, coming down the road, was a Humvee with a mini-gun turret mounted on top, manned and ready. This commander, whoever he was, took no chances with guard patrols on top of other guard patrols.

  Nolan waved the others back and they lay silent and still while the Humvee slowly drove past.

  “Fuckers are everywhere. I’m not so sure this is doable, Nolan,” breathed Cobb.

  “Everything is doable, we just have to pick the right time. Tonight, tomorrow, something will open for us. Don’t worry, Cobb. Now let’s head back to those houses over there.” Nolan pointed. “I don’t think anyone’s living in them, and if they are we’ll take care of them.”

  Like ghosts, the three men drifted backward through the marshy ground surrounding the pond until they reached the thick tree line near the homes. They found them emptied of anything useful and deserted, just the way Nolan had hoped. and settled down to wait until nightfall. They would do another recon then, watching this woman and learning her patterns until an opportunity presented itself for her capture, with the best chances of escape.

  “I’m seriously having second thoughts about all this shit, Nolan.” Locke had finally spoken his first words in several hours. Short and stocky, with grizzled hair and a facial scar that twisted one corner of his mouth, he’d never been known for his long conversations. Like the others, he was an expert in most weapons and stealth techniques and had joined Dr. Lynch’s forces for the money after serving three tours in Afghanistan. Also like the others, his family was safe at the compound in Vermont.

  “What do you propose, Locke?” snarled Nolan. “You know they’re holding our families hostage no matter what they tell us.”

  “I know, man. But this is some screwed up shit we’re doing. I also believe we had better have a backup plan. Once the Order consolidates their power, I’m not so sure our families are safe. Or us. We are expendable, and they’re using us like we are.”

  “Yeah, hold that thought, okay? We’ll figure something out,” Nolan replied, while Cobb nodded in agreement with Locke. The whole situation was fucked up with a capital F. Nolan didn’t mind killing people for a living, as he had been doing it for years., and he had to give the Order credit for careful planning. Keeping them stationed in Ohio, almost half a country away from their loved ones, had been a smart move. Perhaps they could do something about that in the future.

  “That ice cold motherfucker needs to be removed also. He’s not as smart as he thinks he is,” Locke spoke up as he spat on the living room carpet of the home they were in.

  “Yeah, I know. Who knows? Maybe he’ll have an accident on the way back,” grinned Nolan.

  The others chuckled while getting their bedrolls out. It was time to settle down and wait for dark.

  *****

  Chapter 13

  DAY 11: 1100 ET MONDAY NOVEMBER 14TH

  "Pleased to meet you, Joseph," the Reaper said as he shook the man's hand. Coal-black skin and oil stained coveralls adorned the huge black man who had greeted them outside the warehouse door.

  "The pleasure is mine, Reaper," the man responded in a low rumbling voice as they smiled at each other. "You're quite the celebrity, being stronger than any ten men, never missing a shot, and invincible."

  "Oh, I don't know about that. Right now I feel old as the hills and twice as slow," Jason replied, smiling as the others laughed around them.

  "So what do you have for me, Joseph?" Alethea spoke up, interrupting them. Joseph just smiled at her impatience but released the Reaper’s hand as he turned to her.

  "Come, and let me show you," he said while opening the door at his back.

  Inside, the Reaper was greeted by the sight of eight or nine of the strangest bikes he had ever seen. They were two-wheeled in front, with one in the back, a huge gleaming engine sitting dead center and a standard two-person motorcycle seat riding half on top. A black, heavy-looking V-bladed plow had been fashioned in front, and what made the Reaper do a double take was the size of the tires themselves. Obviously off-road tires for a truck but somehow Joseph had managed to mount them in place of the motorcycle’s original equipment.

  Slowly the Reaper walked around the beast displayed before them while holding his side and whistled. Mounted in front just above the plow blade were two M240 belt-fed machine guns with side-mounted ammunition cans. Behind the seat were stacked an even half dozen additional cans of ammunition, secured by straps. Looking closely he saw that the rifle triggers could be simultaneously depressed by pulling on an extra lever mounted alongside the right throttle with a linkage system that was truly unique. He pointed at it.

  "That is actually very clever, Joseph. I can only assume it works?" the Reaper asked. "And where did you get all the M240s?"

  "You bet, Sir. Everything works on it. A few days ago I had this idea. So I grabbed a CAN-AM Spyder from the lot down the street. Frame and suspension sucked so I rebuilt it and ripped the old 998cc engine out and put in a supercharged Honda 1500 and gear case. I needed more torque for all the additional weight, you see. She doesn't take off like lightning, but she's hard to stop. We split the wheel rims to handle the oversized truck tires and added the V-shield to the front. I would not advise hitting the creatures at sixty, but up to fifteen or even twenty miles per hour, you should survive with minimal damage. She weighs almost as much as a small car, and that shield is a quarter-inch of steel and reinforced on the outer edges to keep it from crumpling against the tires," he finished by pointing at the front where the thick steel covered even the dual front tires, and the spider web of thick bracing was welded in place. “As far as the 240s are concerned, they came to us compliments of the Grand Rapid SWAT and two Class Three firearms dealers, but there are only fourteen total so we had to use a variety of other automatic weapons like M16s and M4s, of which we have plenty. The police here were very well stocked. You'll have to aim by pointing the bike and fire parallel to the ground so don't expect loads of accuracy. I figured they'd be great for strafing runs."

  "Nine is not enough, Joseph." Alethea was frowning as she counted the finished trikes.

  "There are only nine in here, Alethea. I have over forty people working on this. We are turning one out every four hours or less. There are a dozen in the next bay and you'll have six or more by tomorrow morning," Joseph replied, shrugging his shoulders, but Alethea was smiling and hugged him tightly in a surprise move. Joseph looked shocked, then pleased at her show of affection.

  "Thank you, Joseph," she whispered as she kissed his cheek.

  "You are welcome, Boss," he replied as he kissed her cheek in return while the others smiled.

  *****

  "Well Doc? What's the verdict?" Darin asked Doctor Mansk as the older man entered the tiny office. Master Sergeant Trask had been forced to wait ther
e while Ashley was examined by their resident physician. For the last two and a half hours they had been in his examination room while Master Sergeant Trask kept up a running stream of conversations and orders on his tac net.

  "Darin. I told you I'm not a psychiatrist. I can only make educated guesses."

  "Guesses are what we'll take, Doctor Mansk. There isn't anyone else and she's insistent on guarding the commander."

  "I know. I do not think she is a danger to anyone except to those she perceives to be enemies. The good news is her definition of enemies is very narrow. As close as I can determine, an 'enemy' is anyone who would hurt Jay or any of his loved ones. That definition of loved ones includes all of you soldiers and everyone here in our community. Her priorities seem to be Jay and his children equally, then his lady friends and Jean’s children, then everyone else.

  "You understand I can't let her around the commander if she might go crazy, right?"

  "I understand and agree. Think of her condition as that of a high-level form of Autism. Her experiences have pushed her mind into areas it should not have gone, hence her elevated adaptation of those skills needed to discharge her new duty, or ‘calling’ as she sees it. You have read about those child wonders than can play concert piano at six years of age? It's similar if not the same."

  "Doc, she talks to angels."

  "Granted."

  "They answer her back!" Master Sergeant Trask emphasized his last words.

  "Again, I agree with you. It does sound schizophrenic, but I do not think this is an adaptation of that particular disorder. I tested her as thoroughly as I can. Her ‘skills’ as you call them are also very narrowly limited. She could not grasp higher math functions for instance, yet could memorize entire pages of Sun Tzu's Art of War at a glance. She does not feel isolated. She does not feel she's being controlled by these angels, but that they are helping her. Her thoughts are clear and coherent. She feels connected to those she loves and her community. I gave her the standard tests and she passed every single one."