The Dead Years Series Box Set

by Jeff Olah

  “That’s not rain.”

  “What is it…” he stopped mid-sentence. He hadn’t heard this sound in quite some time and certainly not since the world turned. “Is that…” he moved from the cab back to the main door. Opening it just enough to peer out into the dark sky, Mason watched as the lights flickered back and forth and it grew closer. “Can they see us? Will they know we’re here?”

  Randy leapt into the passenger’s seat to get a better view “I’m not sure, but I think I know where they’re headed and I’m sure they could care less about us,” he said pointing to the airfield.

  As it passed overhead Randy paid special attention to its detail and where it landed. “They’re looking for a place to refuel. If this place hasn’t been picked dry already, they may have a chance.”

  Vanishing behind one of the outbuildings nearest the main runway, the ominous dark green helicopter came to rest.

  74

  “Get off up here and turn right at the first street, it will take us all the way to the ocean.” The calm surrounding the area was overwhelming. Mason checked the windows in every direction as Randy pushed toward the coast. The further into the area they moved, the more extravagant the homes became. Shaking his head, Mason chuckled slightly at the thought of these places that were once worth millions now held no value. “What a shame.”

  Mercedes, BMW, Range Rover, Ferrari, Austin Martin all left to die in the garages and driveways of the exclusive neighborhood Mason once hated. Closer to the shore, the homes sat on larger lots with expansive yards that were once immaculately maintained. Every blade of grass just so, not a shrub unkempt, but now after a few weeks of neglect it was just like any other area. As they rolled to a stop, Mason pointed to the left. A two story colonial, that looked strangely out of place for the neighborhood, stood in the distance with little else around.

  “Cut the lights and pull in the driveway. You and I can do a quick check and bring the others in,” Mason said.

  “Sounds good… What’s that?”

  “What?”

  “I saw some lights down at the end of the street, just beyond that last house” Randy said.

  “I don’t see anything.”

  “Never mind, it was just for a second. My eyes are probably playing tricks on me. Up here good?”

  “Sure.” Mason walked back to let April know what they had planned and told her they’d be back in less than a minute. He told her to honk if she needed him. He gave her a gun from the bag and readied it for action. Back at the door, he watched as Randy whispered something into Savannah’s ear. She looked back in confusion and asked “You sure?”

  Shaking his head, he followed Mason as they reloaded their weapons and stepped out onto the pavement. “How we gonna get in? Randy said.

  Holding up a single key, Mason smiled. “Side door, we can go through the garage and come in through the kitchen.”

  “Let’s go.”

  They both stayed low, dodging in and out of the shoulder high shrubs. The grass was still damp and the sidewalks were covered in sand, the smell of burnt oak slid through the opening as they pulled open the door. The three car garage housed a lone Chevy Tahoe with blacked out windows, stock rims and a stainless steel roof rack that reflected slivers of moonlight coming through the window at the side of the garage. Mason twisted the handle leading into the kitchen and sure enough it was unlocked. He figured his former in-laws left in a hurry and wouldn’t have taken the time to bolt every door.

  Black marble countertops, stainless steel Sub-Zero appliances, polished concrete floors and a three hundred sixty degree view of the Pacific Ocean off the rear balcony paired an odd contrast to the upheaval that had taken place inside the home. Tables were overturned, drawers were emptied and vulgarities spray painted along most walls. Not a single Feeder in sight and with the lack of any body parts, the culprits were little less than obvious. “Looters?” Randy said.

  “Yeah… probably. I’ll check the third floor, you wanna hit the second?”

  “On it.”

  Taking two steps at a time, both men quickly and quietly made their way through the debris left behind by whatever tore through this area. They surveyed the individual floors for anything that may do them harm, be that Feeder or scavenger. Mason moved through the darkness, his hands out in front and along the walls as his eyes adjusted to the interior. Making his way back to the staircase and down to the first floor, he arrived at the landing just after Randy. “What’s that?” Mason asked.

  He knew he should have explained it earlier or at least tried, although the words hadn’t come. Randy had a good idea that his plan wouldn’t work and he didn’t want that to show through as he explained his plan to Mason. Justin probably wouldn’t live to see morning regardless of what they did, although on the slight chance he could finally help one person today, he needed to at least try.

  “Mason, I hope you know by now that I’m trying to help, even though my actions have caused quite a bit of pain. That was not my intention.”

  “I know, and…”

  “Let me get through this, I feel absolutely terrible about everything that took place at the stadium. I take full responsibility. I consider you my family now and just want you all safe. As soon as I try to help Justin, I’m going to leave… on my own.”

  “What, why…”

  Interrupting once again, Randy continued. “Let me help Justin and then we’ll talk. I have an idea; it’s a long shot, although since things haven’t changed much since he was bitten, it couldn’t hurt.”

  “Couldn’t hurt? Are you kidding? That’s still my son.”

  “Yes, I know,” Randy said.

  “I know you’re trying to help and I’m so lost with all of this that I don’t know which way is up. Listen, I noticed the syringes you brought back, let’s get on with it. What’s your plan?”

  “You know why I left the military. You also know I somehow survived the attack. They must have given me something to combat the virus. I was in a coma for nearly ten days. I know not everyone bitten survived. I was lucky. Maybe if we give Justin some of my blood, he’ll pull through. I think it’s worth a shot.”

  “Randy, without you I’d be dead right about now. You have saved this group numerous times and I am grateful, although this sounds crazy. We have no medical training and have no idea how to do something like this. If you two are different blood types it will kill him and I’m embarrassed to say I don’t know Justin’s type.”

  “It doesn’t matter what type he is. I’m O negative which can be used by anyone. Let’s do this Mason. It can work. We don’t have time to talk this through, if nothing else, it doesn’t work and nothing changes, but we need to at least try.”

  “OK… but April has to think it was my plan. She’d never go for it otherwise. Let me tell her and then let’s just do it. I’ll take responsibility. Let’s go!”

  The two men turned back to the kitchen, heading for the RV as Randy stopped, grabbing Mason by the shoulder. “You hear that?”

  “Yeah, what was it?” Mason asked.

  “Sounds like crying. It’s coming from the pantry.”

  75

  He was certain they had checked every area of the house, although he now realized something was missed, something big. Other than a few moonlit areas that were all near windows, they couldn’t see more than a few feet at a time. Mason wasn’t about to start making excuses at this point, although they needed to be much more careful. The crying was faint, although it seemed evident the person wanted to be found. From the tone, they sensed it was a woman and just beyond the door they were about to find out.

  Sliding the pantry door aside, the woman, in her late forties, didn’t jump. She didn’t scream and at first didn’t even look up. She sat and continued to softly whimper into the bloodstained dish towel that had become her only companion in the ransacked food locker. She sat against the back wall amongst the tattered cereal boxes, smashed tuna fish cans and neatly labeled Tupperware containers. The two fr
iends looked at each other and back to the woman, who finally raised her head and spoke. “You need to leave right now. RIGHT NOW! When they get back, they’re going to kill me and they’ll kill you too… GO NOW!”

  Pulling up against the shelving, the woman stood, tossed the towel to the floor and darted past both men, heading for the giant floor to ceiling windows at the rear of the home. Mason was the first to follow and caught her as she tripped over a downed lamp in the living room. She pulled her arm from his grip and continued to the corner. “Look… down the beach. They’re coming back, I told you.”

  “What… Where?” Mason said.

  “Look, two homes down near the water.” The woman said, pointing to the left.

  Five men in total, most with high-powered LED flashlights, were standing in a half circle, watching as a half-dozen Feeders moved slowly through the wet sand. The three innocent victims moved farther into the surf as the men urged the monsters toward them. One of the would-be victims, a twenty-something male, attempted an escape and was quickly introduced to the power of the Glock Nine Millimeter handgun as his adversary fired a single round into his calf. Twisting as he fell into the shallow water, he was overtaken by three of the Feeders as the five men cheered.

  “They are animals, you two need to go back to wherever you came from. Those men have killed everyone on this beach and they’re coming here when they finish!”

  “What… how do you know?” Mason asked.

  The sweat ran down her neck and she shook as if she’d been without a cigarette for way too long. Her silk blouse, torn in places and stained in others, hung off her like it was made for a person twice her size. Her bruised and battered face spoke to the horrific events she’d seen in the past few days. “They’ve hit every house on the beach and this one’s next. They haven’t found me yet, but they won’t stop until they do. Everyone else is gone… Everyone! They’re going to kill me, I know it.”

  She flinched as Mason rested his hand on her shoulder. She didn’t turn to look at him. Instead she continued to watch the men on the beach as they cornered the second of their victims, a middle-aged heavyset man, between the crashing surf and the incessant Feeders. The man tried swimming out into the ocean and was immediately shot in the back from less than twenty feet away. With the next wave he was pushed back to shore and served up for the remaining Feeders to lay waste to.

  “GO…GO NOW! YOU HAVE TO LEAVE!” She began pushing Mason and pointing to the garage door.

  “What’s your name?” Mason asked.

  “What, why do you…”

  “Mason, no time. We need to go,” Randy said.

  “You’re right, take her to the RV and get it started. I’ll be two steps behind.”

  “She’s coming with us? Are you sure, what about Justin?”

  “Keep her away from him… and yes, she’s coming with us. There’s no other way. Now GO!”

  Randy put his arm around the woman and without further debate the pair headed for the garage. Just before moving out of sight, Mason heard her tell Randy that they’d even shot her dog.

  Turning back to the windows, Mason pulled open the sliding glass door leading to the oversized balcony and stepped out. The night air felt thick on his face, almost wet and the beach below was colored in dark shades of tan in multiple spots from the previous downpour. The five men moved away from the Feeders each time they got close and taunted the only remaining victim. From this distance she appeared to be in her fifties and athletic. She was visibly worn and was only seconds from being pulled down by her pursuers.

  With his good hand on his injured shoulder, Mason pushed his thumb deep into his previously injured shoulder and brought about a pain that nearly sent him to his knees. The outer edge of the glass trimmed balcony had two folding chairs that he moved back against the house and leaned on the wood trimmed railing. For now he was invisible to these men. The same sort that tried to take his life only weeks before on a grass field with his wife and child as witnesses.

  The pain radiating outward from his injury brought with it the anger he felt awakening in the sporting goods store. Dealing with it then wasn’t an option. Too many horrific events had taken place since he witnessed his friend Tom being eaten alive in the parking lot of his own gym. He needed some way to let this go, to atone for everything… Not least of all Justin.

  Pulling back the slider to assure a round was ready; he raised the pistol and gripped it tightly between both hands. Exhaling slowly, the faint sound of the RV coming to life broke his concentration and turned the attention of the men on the beach back toward the house. One of them, the biggest of the bunch barked orders at the rest. One by one the Feeders that were being used as attack dogs were shot in the head, leaving them to rest in the shallow shore break.

  The woman being tortured by the men broke free and started up the beach. Less than twenty yards into her escape the men opened fire throwing her body violently forward. As she came to rest face down in the sand, Mason sent his response with three pulls of the trigger.

  The familiar stench of scorched gunpowder danced into the night as the first round kicked up sand just feet from its intended target. The next buried itself just past the shoreline and Mason was officially a sixty-six percent failure. The third and last projectile launched from the balcony, rocketed through the man nearest the house making contact just below his belt line and scattering pieces of his pelvis along the sand. Those remaining all dove to the ground, with the exception of the large man. He’d gotten a fix on Mason and pointed to the balcony.

  “LEVEL IT!”

  76

  Forced to sit in the passenger seat, the woman brought onboard by Randy pounded the dashboard until the glove box popped open, sending its contents to the floor below. The savages were on to them and she just couldn’t imagine another minute in this hell. Within seconds the area had become a war zone. From inside of the RV and positioned at the front of the house there wasn’t much they could do. The sky lit up like the Fourth of July and the sound of bullets racing by had the group frantically calling for Mason.

  Putting the RV into reverse and starting to back down the driveway, Randy flipped the headlights on, no longer worried about being spotted. As they rolled backward, April shot to the front, confused as to what was now happening. “What are you doing? We’re not leaving him.”

  “No, we’re not. I’m pulling into the street and going to get him. Once we’re back we need to get out of here fast.”

  “You’re leaving?” the woman asked from the passenger seat.

  Attempting to calm her, Randy’s attention turned to the illuminated garage door as he said, “I’ll… be back… I promise.”

  A single word, hastily spray painted along the garage door held no meaning to most that would pass through this neighborhood. To April it was a sign that her mother and father may have made it out of the area safe.

  BLACKMORE

  These nine black letters raced through his mind as he stopped the RV, shifted into park and stepped out to retrieve his friend. Randy knew what it meant. He knew April. He knew her father. He just hadn’t seen it until now. It became clear, even if it hadn’t before this very moment, what his job was and what role he played in this family. He no longer worried about being a burden or detriment. He was here to protect and deliver them.

  Darting to the right side of the house, Randy made his way through the garage and stopped at the door leading to the interior. He spotted Mason crouched behind the giant island that adorned the center of the kitchen trying to reload his weapon. Attempting to get his attention Randy tossed a small screwdriver from the wall to the ground near his friend. “Pssst,” he said.

  Looking over just as one of the attackers came through the balcony door; Randy downed the first man before he even realized there was someone other than Mason in the room. The second man stopped short, looked in and emptied his weapon into the house, luckily not coming close to hitting either of them.

  While their adversary stop
ped to reload, Randy made his way over to Mason, helped him up and continued walking. “Get to the RV Mason… Now!”

  “Randy what are you…”

  The man who was hidden off to right, still fumbling to reload his weapon looked up to see Randy now standing at the door. “You’re already dead,” he said. “You just don’t…”

  Before the man could spit out the final words of his hateful diatribe, Randy put a round in his chest, blasting him backward and off the balcony.

  Hurrying down the driveway, Randy looked back again, burning the image from the garage door into memory. As he boarded the RV, Mason was already in the driver’s seat slamming the gas pedal to the floor. The others were screaming at him to drive and peering out the windshield. Randy stepped around Savannah and noticed another vehicle at the end of the block coming toward them. “Mason, what’s that?”

  “The last two, I assume.”

  “What? I thought we just took care of them…”

  “They scattered on the beach and two of them went the other way. They must have run for their car.”

  Returning to her still unconscious son, April shouted over the noise from the rear of the RV. “What now? Where are we going?”

  Turning left at the main street, Mason watched the side mirror as the attackers also turned and began closing the gap. “I don’t know, but we gotta figure it out quick.”

  Randy reached for the largest of the three black duffle bags and set it carefully on the floor next to him. “Get to the airport and try to find the helicopter.” He dug through the bag and pulled out two large handheld explosives.

  “The airport?” Mason asked.

  “Yep, it’s our only chance. If the helicopter stopped for fuel, we may have a chance to catch them off guard and nab it.”

  “You want to steal a helicopter?” Savannah asked.

  “We’re just going to borrow it, I’ll bring it back.”