The Last Bastion (Book 3): The Last Bastion

by K. W. Callahan

  They nodded that they did and immediately began assisting the others.

  Michael was proud of how the boys were holding up during this time of intense stress and pressure, but he didn’t have time to lavish praise upon them. Instead, he moved over to where Josh stood at the barricade, gun aimed at the three newcomers outside.

  “What do they want?” Michael whispered into Josh’s ear, looking around Josh’s shoulder to see outside.

  A black male, a black female, and a white male, all of whom Michael pegged to be somewhere in their mid-thirties, stood waiting anxiously outside the tower’s fenced perimeter. They all wore backpacks.

  “They’re from the condo building across the way,” Josh explained. “Said they’re seeking safe refuge. Their building is infested with biters I guess.”

  “They have weapons?” Michael asked.

  “None that I can see,” Josh shook his head.

  A biter appeared from the parking lot behind the three newcomers, about 50 yards away.

  “Please!” the woman in the newly arrived trio pleaded. “We aren’t armed, and we brought food! We just need a safe place to stay for a while…until help arrives!”

  Josh turned to Michael, “What do you think?”

  “After our experience this morning, I’m hesitant to trust them.”

  “I know, but we could use their help with our repairs and the defense of the tower,” Josh argued.

  “Watch out, guys,” Manny said as he worked to maneuver a piece of scrap metal into place over a portion of the front entrance.

  “If we wait, those biters that are on the way over here will probably get them,” Josh added.

  “I know,” Michael nodded. “I really don’t want to let anyone else inside, but…well, I suppose we need the help. And like they said, they’ve come with their own food. I guess we could chance it. You on board?” he asked Josh.

  “I think we should let them in, at least temporarily,” Josh shrugged. “There are only three of them, and we can always tell them to leave. We’ll just have to keep a close eye on them.”

  “Definitely,” Michael said.

  The biter across the parking lot, having sighted the three potential meals standing out in the open, was moving faster now. The three new arrivals were looking nervously behind them, inching ever closer to the tower’s perimeter fence.

  “Please!” the woman cried. “We don’t have much time!”

  “Okay,” Michael called in response. “But you have to give us your packs first so we can check for weapons.”

  The three outsiders consulted one another, but only for a second, before the white male said, “Fine!” Then the three made their way over the crumpled remnants of the perimeter fence where portions of it had been smashed by the recent tower invaders.

  “Manny!” Michael called. “Come over and help us.”

  It took the newcomers a minute to pass their packs around the entry barricade to Michael. Michael did a quick search of the packs while Josh removed enough of the barricade to allow a sole individual to slip through at a time. Manny covered the new arrivals with his handgun to ensure they didn’t try to pull a fast one while Michael and Josh were occupied.

  Michael, finished with his search, patted down the three strangers.

  “They’re clear,” he nodded to the others who seemed relieved at the revelation.

  “Michael Trove,” Michael introduced himself. “This is Josh, and that’s Manny,” he introduced the other two men.

  “Wendell,” the black man nodded. “This is my wife, Charla, and our…well, our neighbor, Chris,” he introduced the others.

  Everyone nodded at one another.

  “I’d take time to introduce the rest of the group,” Michael said, “but we have biters headed our way.”

  “More than just that one?” Charla asked, nodding back outside.

  “A lot more,” Michael said. “Hundreds maybe. And they’re headed this way in a hurry. Coming up from Ogden Avenue. We saw them from the top of the tower.”

  “We can help get things sealed up down here,” Chris offered, nodding to the others around them working to secure the tower’s entry barricade.

  “Whatever we can do to be helpful,” Charla added hopefully.

  “That’d be great,” Michael nodded. “Boys!” he called to the young Franko brothers and Justin Justak, who immediately stopped what they were doing and hurried over to where Michael stood with the newcomers. “Take these packs upstairs, and then take up your positions. Those biters are going to be here any minute.”

  “Okay,” they dutifully picked up the packs that Charla, Chris, and Wendell had arrived with and scampered away with them upstairs.

  Michael took a deep breath, “If only I had that kind of energy,” he said wistfully and with a grim smile.

  Chapter 4

  The tower’s ground level was a flurry of activity. Almost all the Blenders – minus the boys – as well as the new arrivals of Charla, Chris, and Wendell, worked to repair the damage done in the morning’s firefight with the armed outsiders.

  “So…where did you guys come from?” Charla asked as she helped Michael position a piece of plywood over a gap near one of the entry doors. They wedged it into place with a metal file cabinet.

  “Brookfield,” Michael gave the file cabinet one last shove to get it snuggly secured.

  “Are you all related?” she frowned, looking for clarification of how such a sizeable group came to be housed under one roof.

  “We were neighbors,” Michael explained. “We all lived at the end of our block. We are all very close…about as close as you can be without being blood relatives. We celebrate birthdays, holidays, and just days in general together.”

  “Wow…that’s unusual,” Charla said, wide-eyed. “Especially these days. Most of our neighbors wouldn’t even say hello when they passed us in the hall.”

  “I suppose it is kind of unusual,” Michael agreed. “But it worked for us. There were more of us, but…they didn’t make it on the trip here.”

  “I’m sorry,” Charla nodded sympathetically. “They chose not to come.”

  “No,” Michael shook his head. “They came, but they didn’t make it.”

  “Oh,” Charla nodded, understanding now. “We lost a few of our close friends too.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Michael gave a slight grimace. “This situation, the whole thing, whatever it is that’s going on here, it’s, well, it’s just damn tough.”

  “That’s for sure,” Charla agreed.

  “By the way, we call our group here the Blenders,” Michael looked to change the subject.

  “Why the Blenders?” Charla frowned. “Make a lot of mixed drinks together?” she took a stab with a sly smile.

  “No, well, that too,” Michael chuckled. “But that’s not the reasoning behind the name. We initially called ourselves the Block Enders because our group all lived at the end of our block. But over time, the name was shortened to the Blenders.”

  “Ah,” Charla nodded as she and Michael worked together to push a heavy desk up against the front entry barricade. “I get it now. Was your plan to come here from Brookfield? I mean, this seems like a pretty smart move, choosing this tower to hold out in.”

  “No, actually, we were trying to make it to the highway to head to the west part of Illinois. I had a friend with land and a cabin out there. This was as far as we got. Biters got a hold of some of our people and well, there were so damn many, we couldn’t get to our friends in time and had to take refuge here. Thankfully this place was here. I don’t know what we would have done otherwise.”

  Beside them, Josh and Manny were working with some tools they’d brought along to remove a couple eye-level bricks at strategic points along the front wall.

  “What are you doing?” Chris asked them. “Can I help?”

  “Sure,” Josh nodded. “We’re trying to get…ah, there,” a brick fell from the wall. “We’re trying to make a couple small firing ports,�
� he gestured to several marked points along the tower’s interior wall. “It’ll add a little light down here and allow us to shoot at the biters without having to open any gaps in the entrances. Our barricades are necessary, but they make it impossible to see or to shoot out from down here. And if the biters get in close to the base of the tower, it can be hard to get a good firing line on them from the upper floors without really hanging yourself out the window.”

  “Makes sense,” Chris nodded, grabbing a hammer and a screwdriver. He began banging on the wall near one of the spots Josh had marked, using the screwdriver as a chisel. “Name’s Chris, by the way,” he added. “Pleasure to meet you.”

  “Josh,” Josh looked over and nodded. “And this is Manny.”

  Manny and Chris nodded at one another. “Nice to meet you, Chris,” Manny said.

  “Same here,” Chris took several swings of his hammer against the screwdriver, driving it into one of the masonry joints around the brick on which he worked. “Just wish it was under different circumstances.”

  “Ha! No kidding,” Manny snorted, shaking his head.

  Suddenly there was a loud bang outside, audible over the sounds of the work going on inside the tower.

  Michael peered out a small opening still left in the front entrance barricade near the top. Outside, near where the parking lot narrowed as it approached the front of the adjacent condo building, he could see biters – tons of them. They were moving en masse, herd-like, right toward the tower, spilling through the access road that led past the front of the condo building. In the process, they had knocked over a standing garbage receptacle and were sort of kicking it along ahead of them. Several biters had stumbled over this obstacle along the way. Michael watched them fall to the ground, trampled by the herd of biters behind them before they could get back to their feet.

  He shook his head in disbelief. “Stupid things,” he muttered to himself. Then he pulled his head away and turned to the other Blenders who were finalizing the barricade. “Biters are in the parking lot!” he called. “Everyone grab a gun and get to your positions!”

  He turned to Charla, “You know how to shoot?” he asked.

  “Huh uh…no,” she shook her head.

  “What about the two guys you’re with?”

  “Wendell doesn’t…Chris might,” she said.

  “Which one is Chris again?” Michael asked, not being able to recall from their hurried introductions.

  “That one,” Charla pointed him out.

  “Chris!” Michael called.

  “Yeah?” Chris turned to look from his chiseling work.

  “You know how to shoot?”

  “I’ve shot before,” he nodded.

  “Josh, find him a gun…something easy to handle, and then find him a firing position,” Michael instructed. “Manny, take Wendell and Charla upstairs. Get them some sort of weapon that they’re comfortable with…a hatchet or a knife or a hammer…something. Then bring them back downstairs. They can help with whatever else we might need during the fight.”

  “Right,” Manny nodded. “Come on,” he gestured toward the stairs.

  Charla and Wendell followed him.

  “We’ve got a minute or two at best before the biters get here!” Michael called to the others. “Everybody grab all the ammo they need. We’ll use Charla and Wendell as runners if we start running low! Any biters breach the tower and we retreat upstairs as planned!”

  * * *

  The initial salvos from the defending Blenders were fired before the first wave of biters was within reach of the tower. Michael led with the first few shots, taking down one of the lead biters before it had come more than 30 feet from the perimeter fencing.

  Michael was hoping the biters might bypass the tower. But the lure of fresh meat in the form of the corpses from the morning’s firefight appeared too great.

  The tower’s chest-high perimeter fence had previously proved extremely useful in slowing, if not stopping altogether, the biter’s advance. But when the armed intruders had attacked, certain portions of the fence had been damaged. Sections had been pushed down far enough to allow biters to pass with less difficulty. And while the fence could be repaired easily enough with a little work by the Blenders, there hadn’t been time to mend it before the huge biter herd had arrived.

  As soon as Michael fired, the sound of other shots rang out from around the tower. Biters immediately began dropping to the ground. Some were killed outright. Others screeched and writhed on the ground or scrambled away like wounded animals.

  Soon the dead outside were mounting, but the biters kept coming in droves. They heaped themselves up around the tower walls. It reminded Michael of scenes of holiday shoppers waiting outside stores on Black Friday. And for as many biters as the Blenders were able to kill, more kept coming.

  Michael stopped counting at the fifteenth biter he’d taken down. There was no point. It was like shooting fish in a barrel. No matter where he aimed through the firing port that Josh and Manny had created, he was guaranteed to hit a biter.

  “Charla! Wendell!” he yelled over the continued sound of gunfire around him.

  The two newcomers rushed over, eager to assist.

  Michael paused from his firing, ejected a magazine from his weapon, and moved over to a small table nearby. The table had a battery-powered camp lantern atop it to help illuminate the tower’s windowless lower level. The tabletop was laden with fresh magazines and boxes of ammo.

  “Can you reload these?” Michael held up an empty magazine and looked from Charla to Wendell and back again. They just stared back at him.

  “Here!” he didn’t wait for them to hem and haw. “You just take one bullet at a time!” he called over the sound of the other Blenders’ gunfire, picking up a round from a box of ammo. “Put it in this way!” he pushed the cartridge end-first and at an angle down into the magazine. “Then do the same with the next one, and the next, until the magazine is full! Can you handle that?”

  Charla and Wendell nodded that they could.

  “Good! Charla, you handle this table! Wendell, you handle that one over there!” Michael pointed to a similar table set up on the other side of the tower’s ground floor where other Blenders were firing. “You’re going to have your work cut out for you with the way these biters are coming on!” Michael inserted a fresh magazine into his weapon.

  A couple minutes later and the biter corpses outside were piling up. There appeared no end in sight to the addition of those continuing to congregate around the tower.

  It was then that Michael had a thought. It was becoming glaringly obvious that there was no way that he and the other Blenders were going to be able to kill all the biters pouring into the area. That meant that unless the biters moved along of their own volition, he and the others would be forced to remain in the tower indefinitely. It could be weeks or longer before they had a chance to relocate, and that was if there was anywhere else to relocate to. But such a stay could get unpleasant and unsanitary in a hurry with hundreds of dead and decaying biters surrounding the tower. Michael began to re-think their strategy. It might be better just to let the biters be. As long as the tower entrances remained secured, the Blenders could hold out in the tower for a significant duration.

  “Cease fire!” he called around him.

  But the firing continued. The others were so focused on the job at hand, and at this point, half deaf from all the gunfire, they couldn’t hear Michael.

  Therefore, Michael went around, tapping those still shooting on the shoulder and gesturing to them to halt their fire.

  “Wendell! Charla!” he called, pointing to the stairs. “Will you run upstairs and tell those on the upper floors to cease firing?”

  Wendell didn’t look particularly thrilled about fulfilling the request, but Michael had to admit, Wendell hadn’t looked particularly thrilled about much of anything since he’d arrived. And if these newcomers wanted to remain at the tower and integrate into the group, they had to earn their keep
like everyone else.

  Charla and Wendell disappeared upstairs, and a few minutes later, the sound of firing from other positions around the tower slowed and then stopped altogether.

  While he waited, Michael stood looking around him at the tower’s darkened first floor. He could see the glint of shell casings littering the floor in the lantern light and the few bits of natural light that filtered their way through the newly created firing ports.

  He wondered if the decision to defend the tower had been a wise one. They had expended a lot of ammunition, and their situation was little changed. They were still surrounded by hundreds of biters, a sizeable number of which were now dead or dying.

  Suddenly the ambient light flowing through the port through which Michael had been firing was blocked. A hand reached through the port, its fingers grabbing for Michael. They moved wraithlike, reminding Michael of Dracula trying to entrance someone in the movies. Then the hand retreated, replaced instead by the sound of chattering teeth and a set of eyes peering through the hole.

  Michael picked up one of the long screwdrivers they’d been using to chisel out the ports and rammed it into the opening.

  There was a screech, and light reappeared as the biter staggered back and away from the hole. A few seconds later, it was replaced by another biter. Michael took a breath, shook his head as he looked distastefully at the blood on the end of the screwdriver, and set the tool back down on the table.

  A few minutes later, the rest of the Blenders, minus the boys, who remained upstairs on lookout duty, had gathered on the tower’s first floor.

  Michael wanted to meet there in order to keep an eye on the biters’ progress outside. He needed to see what the biters would do with the absence of gunfire and gauge how the tower’s defenses would hold up against them. It seemed that in the time since he’d called the ceasefire, the biters had made little headway in damaging or dismantling either of the tower’s two entry barricades.