“I saw a radio tower a little further in”, Gavin cut in, apparently inspired by a thought he’d suddenly had, “Those places normally have a backup generator, I bet we could play something out over the air to warn people”.
“Exactly!”, Geoff exclaimed, hoping the group might be revitalised by some new ideas.
“Fine”, Michael conceded, along with a nod from Jack, “I’ll give it a couple more days”.
“I don’t think we’ll need them”, Ray suddenly announced.
Until now, the smaller member of the group had been silent, still suffering from the loss of his friend and never one to speak up before then anyway. But Ray was now stood taller than ever, proudly holding out a newspaper’s front cover, the usual end-of-the-world headlines scrawled across it.
“Why not?”, Geoff asked, apparently unable to see the connection.
“Because we’re only a couple blocks away”, Ray replied, before throwing the newspaper over.
Catching the scrunched up pile of paper, Geoff straightened it out as best he could and then began analysing its every inch, until he eventually found what Ray had seen. On the bottom left corner, amidst seas of doomsday statements and religious nut-jobs promising salvation, was a small map detailing what was being labelled “THE GREAT WALL OF CHICAGO”, along with the logo of the very bank they were now stood in, just two blocks further out of the city centre. They were just down the street.
Chapter 41: Precision
Present day, November 20th, 2014.
By late morning, Sonja had managed to focus the majority of her thoughts on subjects other than Harvey’s demise. Due to her inability to be at the burial, she’d instead made watching the truck drive off as her final point of mourning, and had since then done her best to put it out of her mind. In the meantime, she had taken to what she always did when faced with difficult times, and had chosen to refine her most important skill.
Her target this time around had somewhat more of a meaning. Out in the middle of the street, propped up at an angle by two of its own dismembered limbs – which had eventually been found entangled below the eighteen-wheeler’s trailer – sat the corpse that brought down her fellow guard. Nobody had managed to find its other two limbs, but Sonja presumed that was because they remained back where it had lost them; outside the supermarket.
Sonja had of course needed to spend time convincing Lester to allow her access to the body. He personally preferred to get any and all remains of the undead piled up and ready for burning, to be disposed of as soon as possible, which in this case would be when the others returned. But in a surprising change of personality, he’d sympathised with Sonja’s grief-stricken state, and so had allowed her to use the body for the time being.
For lack of alternative entertainment – and perhaps because they too were mourning the loss of Harvey – a number of the camp’s residents had assembled along the edge of the car-park, most of them on the rooftop with Sonja. This wasn’t the most appropriate method of keeping sprits up that she could think of, but she’d eventually chalked it up to being little different to watching normal archery, albeit with a slightly more gruesome target.
Just like she had done so many times before, Sonja began inspecting her target. What remained of the figure pointed to a middle-aged, balding man, who judging by his attire had been a fairly typical desk worker, his suit now stained an unfortunate shade of black and red. But without inspecting him up close, Sonja couldn’t be sure, though she felt it didn’t particularly matter now that he served little further purpose than to catch her arrows.
Much to Sonja’s relief, the rain that day appeared to be staying off. The flowing wind however meant she knew this wasn’t going to be an easy shot; even the slightest breeze was enough to tip an arrow’s trajectory, and she had neither the skills nor the equipment to make much of an educated adjustment. Instead, Sonja stood for a while with her hand held aloft, analysing what she could from the passing air, and eventually drew a vague conclusion as to where to aim.
Next she looked down to her still plentiful supply of projectiles below. Despite having still not looked at the idea of creating her own, Sonja had yet to snap, break or lose an arrow, save for the one that still sat embedded in a house alarm along East Capitol Drive. Thanks to this efficiency, her supply had so far only grown, meaning she had started to become more comfortable with using the more specialist options.
Deciding this particular occasion deserved the best of the best, Sonja reached over towards the end of her series of options. Delving into the smallest of the quivers propped up against the wall, she withdrew one of the incredibly well manufactured, carbon shafted arrows. Compared to its wooden brethren, it was a wasteful, stupid thing to practise with, but its sturdy shaft, screwed in tip and all round precision finish meant Sonja knew it wouldn’t let her down, so she felt it was worth the potential expense.
Slowly she picked up the arrow, and carefully brought it up to the bowstring, notching it in place. For now the setup remained pointed down, with Sonja still training her eyes on the target ahead, taking measurements and making final checks. Finally, she raised both arms, bringing the bow up to firing level, and then smoothly reclined her right arm, tensing the string and preparing to fire.
In that moment, the wind seemed to pick up more than ever. It was as if some higher power wanted her to miss, or at least to make things difficult for her, but she wasn’t going to be deterred. Knowing that both those on the rooftop with her and those on the floor below were waiting anxiously for her to let the arrow fly, Sonja waited until the wind had at least steadied, and then eventually unleashed the projectile into the air.
There was something about the higher quality arrow in flight that made it a truly incredible sight to behold. The reality of the situation was that at such a distance, the difference between the cheap and expensive options was more than likely negligible, and yet as Sonja followed the trajectory of her dispatched piece of ammunition, she was convinced it carved out a significantly smoother path. Her eyes followed close to the tail of the arrow as it approached its target, getting smaller and smaller until eventually, it landed.
Sonja was no archer, and nor was she interested in anybody’s praise, especially for carrying out an act that just a year ago would have been considered by most as a disgusting way to treat the corpse of a once living person. But looking down at the body, and seeing with it a beautiful carbon arrow now placed dead centre through the beast’s forehead, she couldn’t help but feel happy with the shot.
Almost as soon as the arrow had landed, the wind died down once more, and Sonja began to catch the odd word from those around her, as well as the few people watching from the floor below.
“What a shot”, said one voice off to her right.
“That was amazing, was that Sonja?”, came another from downstairs.
“I’m glad we’ve got her up here”, said several different people, each of them apparently fairly happy to have someone around that they felt could adequately protect them.
Sonja basked happily in the glory for a little while. She knew of course that a shot such as that one, where time and effort had been put in to prepare everything beforehand, was far different from one taken out in the field, but that didn’t stop her enjoying the fallout all the same. That said however, such enjoyment soon turned to confusion, as a series of other words began to surface.
“Do you hear that?”, asked one woman behind Sonja who was speaking to her friend, as did another a little ways off to the right.
“Sounds like a motorbike or something”, said another.
Sonja looked behind to the women, hoping for further information but finding none, and then tried to remain still, listening for the slightest of sounds.
“Sounds like it’s coming from up the road”, came another voice, only to be quickly shot down by another.
“No way, it’s over there towards the water”.
Frantically Sonja span around and looked out to the surroundings of th
e museum in front, and then up and down the main road, still spotting nothing.
“There, in the lake!”, said a more confident voice, “What’s that?”.
Immediately Sonja altered her gaze to see, and in doing so spotted the white object in the water off in the distance. Without a second thought, she swapped out her bow for the high powered M24 sniper rifle in front – previously owned and used by the late Harvey – and then pointed it out towards the unknown entity, her eye quickly disappearing behind the scope for a closer look. Without even thinking, Sonja’s index finger naturally rested onto the trigger.
Out in the water, Sonja laid eyes on something that left her speechless. Despite the condition of more or less everything nowadays, a brilliant white shone through on that otherwise dull day, exposing the hull of a small yet sizeable fishing boat, propelled through the water in the most majestic of ways, as it made its way directly towards the docking area in front of the museum. As the object grew larger, Sonja found her sights filled up with the words “Milwaukee Runner” emblazoned upon the side of the vessel, before she quickly switched her focus to the captain; a darkened figure whose identity she couldn’t quite see from here.
“Who is it?”, came anxious voices from every direction, “Is it another attack?”.
“Everybody down”, Sonja ordered, immediately sending all of those within earshot dropping down behind the comfort of the surrounding half-height walls.
Sonja on the other hand remained in place, ready to fire but waiting for further information, unable to signal down to Lester for fear of losing the perfect shot the rifle’s crosshairs currently had.
Out in front, the boat slowed and began to bank as it approached the docking area, and at almost that exact moment, a more prominent sound emerged from Sonja’s left. Unable to ignore what might well be a bigger threat, she swiftly leant back from the scope and looked in the direction of the noise, only to spot the Ford making its way back towards camp, having obviously finished the burial.
Wondering for a moment if the impossible had finally happened, Sonja pointed the rifle towards the truck, and looked back through the scope. Only one man sat in the front of the vehicle, despite the fact that two had left, and suddenly Sonja began to realise what was going on.
“No way…”, she said out loud, quite literally in disbelief, “They couldn’t have…”, she added, before twisting back round to face the approaching boat, and looking one final time through the magnified scope. Almost immediately, Sonja laid eyes on the face of John Parker, proudly stood at the helm of the vessel which was now coming to a stop alongside the dock.
* * *
John didn’t have a great deal of experience with boats, but he’d been on enough fishing trips to at least have experience in sailing one out on a lake, albeit never a lake quite like this. That being said, the trip from the repair-company to the museum’s adjacent dock had been incredibly smooth, and as John killed the engine of the twenty-nine foot fishing boat and heard the clean rumble of the motor powering down, he was fairly confident in not only his own personal skills, but the chance of this incredible find lasting the journey also.
Quickly John made his way over to the edge of the vessel, grabbing hold of one of the nearest docking piles and pulling in a little closer. Next he set about attaching just about every line he could find, knowing it was important to keep the boat docked but having little to no idea on proper procedure. Given its limited-journey lifespan, John didn’t imagine he’d need to do much properly, but he certainly didn’t want it floating away if the wind picked up.
During John’s brief time with the “Milwaukee Runner”, he’d quickly checked its interior out, mostly to ensure nothing untoward was present inside. What he’d found however was a nicely refurbished living area, and even a toilet to boot. Of course, such things were an unnecessary luxury for anybody nowadays, but John had at least been pleasantly surprised to find a few bottles of water stashed away in the kitchen area’s innards.
Finally he stepped up and onto the dock, steadying his land legs once more before turning to admire his haul for the day. Rarely had anybody come back feeling so proud of finding a single item, not least one that was at least twenty years old, but John knew that all he needed was something that could get him from A to B, and this seemed like just as good a boat as any to do it.
“I can’t believe my eyes”, came a voice from over John’s shoulder.
Turning to investigate, John was happy to see Sonja, wandering down the steps towards the boat, a half sincere smile on her face.
“You finally found one”, she said.
“Yeah”, John replied, “Found her in the one of the marina sheds, same one Gerry and his men were hiding out in”.
“You raided there today, after… Harvey?”, Sonja said, stuttering slightly as she attempted to avoid using the words dug, buried or hole.
“No”, John replied reassuringly, “Me and Andrew found it yesterday on the way back”.
“What?”, Sonja asked, “Why didn’t you say anything?”.
“Didn’t seem like the right time”, John replied.
Sonja looked back at John, appearing confused for a moment. But eventually, she realised that they had of course opted to wait until after Harvey was taken care of before throwing good news into everyone’s faces, a decision she too felt was the right one.
“Oh”, she said after making the realisation, nodding to reassure John that he’d made the correct call.
“C’mon”, John said, walking towards Sonja and in the direction of the camp, “We’ve got a lot to talk about”.
“Yeah”, Sonja laughed, “But I think news has already gotten out”, she added, pointing to the building’s rooftop.
John looked ahead, the outline of each floor now coming into better view. With each one he saw a series of figures, all hanging their heads out excitedly inspecting the new arrival. Most importantly for John though, and looking just as beautiful as ever, was a single, blonde haired figure stood at the centre of the top floor.
“I finally got it”, John said to himself, mouthing the words for his wife up ahead, “We can go get her”.
Chapter 42: Parting ways
During the early afternoon hours of November 20th 2014, activity was high around camp. News of the latest arrival had sparked excited discussion on every floor, and caused numerous people to approach each of the guards looking for any information they could find. John had tried his best to assure everyone that everything would be explained, but so far that had done little to deter any of them from asking.
Just as soon as John had managed to usher the last concerned resident back up the higher floors, he made his way downstairs. Whilst descending the harsh, concrete steps, he couldn’t help but wonder if this might be one of the last times he made this trip, or whether this was just one in a million occurrences lined up in his future. But such thoughts were soon put to one side as he arrived on the ground floor, and began walking towards Andrew, Sonja and Lester, all of whom had gathered at the entrance and were each looking as weary eyed as John did.
Making his way from one side of the building to the other, John suffered through numerous involuntarily nostalgic moments. The first came courtesy of passing by the F150, where he suddenly found himself thinking of the countless memories and experiences the truck had given him, from the moment he’d first obtained it back when they were headed for Apple River, right up till the last time he was in it, which was of course on his way to fetch the boat. John even had memories of the Nissan, albeit less so than the Ford, and those too flashed across the forefront of his mind as he made his way past the vehicle.
“Everything alright up there?”, Sonja asked as John approached, knowing that them all being down there meant they’d had to leave the rooftop guard in the hands of some of the residents.
“Good as they can be”, John said happily, “But let’s try and keep this short”.
Lester nodded in agreement, himself the most concerned for the ca
mp’s safety, as per usual.
“I’m heading for Chicago tomorrow morning”, John said, a statement that still shocked everyone despite them all having known it was coming, “And I’ve got room for five or six more people, whoever needs it the most”.
Sonja and Lester each stood in silence, neither jumping forwards with recommendations as John had expected. Andrew meanwhile simply seemed sad he wasn’t coming along, though he knew it was for good reason.
“What is it?”, John eventually asked after a continued period of nobody talking.
“It’s just”, Sonja started slowly, as if measuring her words, “We haven’t heard anything… from any of the boats we’ve sent”, she explained, “I don’t really know if we want to send anybody else”.
“I know”, John said, displaying a level of understanding nobody had expected, “I’m not forcing anybody to go, not without knowing more. If it turns out to be all we’ve hoped for, I’ll come back for the rest of you”.
“You’ll come back?”, Lester said, breaking his own silence, “Nobody has ever come back”.
“I know”, John repeated, “And I wish I had an answer for that, but I don’t”.
“So then”, Sonja began, seeing an opportunity, “Do you really think it’s such a good-“.
“Please don’t try to talk me out of going to find my daughter”, John said sternly without making eye contact, not even justifying the comment with a glance, “Do me that one favour”.
The group once again descended into silence, all of them now looking downwards slightly. Lester and Sonja didn’t want to lose another guard, nor did they want to send more residents to an uncertain fate, and Andrew didn’t want to lose his friend, or the security he represented. But not a single person there thought for a second that they had any real chance of talking John out of something he’d been dead set on for so long, not least something this important.
“Alright”, Lester said after some time, his deep tone the ideal one to break the silence, “You have my blessing to take some people, long as they’re okay with it”.
Aftermath (Book 2): Chicago Calling Page 33
