Alaskan Undead Apocalypse (Book 4): Resolution

by Schubert, Sean

  The man dressed in black stepped closer to him and asked, “Where you comin’ from kid?”

  “North. The edge of town but not quite to Nikiski,” Mason quickly responded.

  “Family?”

  Mason shrugged his shoulders and was going to tell the man about his parents’ absence but there was no point. He shook his head. “I’m all alone.”

  “Not anymore.”

  Chapter 48

  Luckily, Mason had joined the militia shortly after The Fall, as Colonel Bear had taken to calling the times through which they were living. As a result, he was considered one of the Originals, before others started to flock to the Ranch. He wasn’t granted any rank of which to speak, but being part of the core group had its perks.

  Somehow, Mason had survived the debacle at Skyview High School when so many more hadn’t. He was one of the first to find a spot on the roof of the school. He sat in his perch and fired his .223 Remington semi-automatic rifle into the onrushing hordes of undead doing very little to stop or even discourage them from their onslaught. When the smoke started to rise up around them, Mason was tempted to find his way down and try to run away, but then both Colonel Bear and Carter appeared on the roof.

  Order was quickly restored and their defensive measures became much more effective again. By the time the sun had arrived again in the morning, they had killed hundreds of the walking dead; enough so that they could entertain possibilities of getting back down from the smoldering building.

  That had been just a couple of days earlier, and now Mason was finding himself walking through the remnants of another building in the still ruins of another city in Alaska.

  Their team worked their way through the fancy hotel, dispatching the few remaining zombies prior to the arrival of the balance of the militia. Carter thought to himself that the Colonel’s arrival was just about perfect. His oversized Humvee slowed to a stop only a few feet from the Inn’s front entrance. The big vehicle grumbled and growled, its engine revved twice before being set to sleep.

  The driver’s side door swung open and the Colonel nearly fell out of his seat as his substantial weight shifted. His feet reached the pavement and he stood, the all-terrain vehicle bouncing and shuddering, apparently thankful to be rid of the Colonel’s girth.

  The men with him climbed from the Humvee and joined the Colonel on the sidewalk. They looked around triumphantly at their conquest and nodded to one another.

  Carter, still sitting in the dining room and looking out at the Colonel asked Mason, “Did you get the red carpet ready?”

  Not adept enough to differentiate between when Carter was being serious or kidding, Mason was concerned that he had neglected to fulfill one of Carter’s orders. Carter’s smile and the sinister sneer coiling in his eyes convinced Mason otherwise.

  When Colonel Bear entered the Inn, Carter didn’t bother to stand. He did announce that the hotel was cleared more or less, and that there were ample rooms available upstairs for all of them to get a good night’s rest. He lifted the now half empty bottle of Jameson. “And lucky for us, the bar is open.”

  Raising his eyebrows questioningly, the Colonel asked, “D’you think that’s a good idea?”

  Carter poured another glass for himself before he responded. “You’re prob’ly right. We should stay sharp.” He tipped the glass into his mouth. “This shit could really take our edge off and rot our brains.” He poured another glass purposefully.

  Not acknowledging Carter’s insubordination, Colonel Bear said, “Make sure we have pickets posted and they stay sober. You and your men did a good job getting us here. Why don’t all of you take some time to rest first? Do please find me after I’ve gotten settled to give me a full report.”

  Sensing that he had poked the bear a little too much, Carter stood and snapped to attention, with not the slightest hint of disrespect as he stood there as rigid as a board waiting for the Colonel to release him.

  The Colonel thought to himself, Now that’s better. That was what he expected from his troops, especially his primary lieutenant. He returned Carter’s salute and then walked away.

  The cars were parked along the narrow street immediately in front of the Inn and guards were posted to keep watch. They needed the vehicles so that they could stay mobile. They couldn’t afford to be without transportation. They only had six vehicles with them including the camper, which was parked behind the Colonel’s Humvee. Using the camper’s roof as an elevated guard platform, they kept a watchful eye over everything without having anyone in any significant peril.

  The city was quiet but not quite peaceful. A menacing presence found its way into the darker shadows and lurked just out of sight. The men standing watch could feel it like piercing eyes upon them.

  The Inn’s walls held the presence at bay but peace was still an elusive thing. Seeking his own shelter, Carter was happy to find another bottle of Jameson tucked under the bar. He selected a basic room on the second floor that hadn’t been used recently and still had its bedding tucked neatly into its corners and turned down like it was waiting for him. He retired for a bit of a rest while the tasks of preparing the hotel for the night were done according to his instructions. He sat in a chair and held the television remote pretending to surf through channels and finally settling on a program of his choosing. He poured several glasses of whiskey before the first knock on his door. When he stood to answer, his legs felt a little wobbly, enough so that he had to pause for a moment to steady his balance. He also noticed the creeping buzz from the alcohol and lack of food. He lit a cigarette and took his time crossing the room.

  The Colonel huffed in irritation when Carter finally answered the door. He spilled into Carter’s room, filling it with his strong breath and persistent body odor. He filled the chair in which Carter had been sitting.

  “I see you’ve made yourself comfortable,” He said loudly. He lifted up the glass Carter had been using and finished the whiskey already in it, refilling it afterward and drinking that as well. He looked at the room. “You picked out a nice place. Is it solid? Can we defend it?”

  Carter went to one of the windows and opened it to let in a breeze and some fresh air, which reeked of the sea. Trying to decide which stench her preferred, Carter elected to keep the window open for the moment. “We only have to worry about any of that if we plan on being here more than just tonight. What is the plan, sir?”

  “Listen, I put up with your attitude downstairs and in general for the past few days, but it’s gotta stop. Do you understand me?” the Colonel said. “I just asked you a question and expect it to be answered.”

  The alcohol must have been doing its job, because Carter felt immensely relaxed and peaceful when he answered, “Sorry, sir. I think it’s just...I think Sullivan’s death is still...well...” It may have been just an excuse for his behavior, but Carter did think that he was being especially difficult with everyone since he found out Sullivan had been murdered in cold blood.

  The Colonel was enjoying the young man’s contrition. When the Colonel next spoke, he used a voice that he reserved for only the most serious of talks. It was a voice and a tone that Carter rarely saw. “Those shits who came into our home and killed our brother are here. I can feel it like I’ve never felt anything. And as God as my witness, I shall exact vengeance upon them for their transgressions. They shall pay for their sins. We will be here for as long as that takes. Understood?”

  Carter nodded.

  “We’ll set up headquarters here in the hotel and then find those sons of bitches.”

  “I don’t think there is anything to worry about in this place,” Carter said. “It’s taller than all the buildings around it and it’s got a great view of all its approaches. It’s got no blind corners and we’ve got roof access. We have the local high ground. The building has been swept but I think it would be wise that no one goes anywhere alone.” Sensing the Colonel’s doubt, Carter added, “I understand all of what you said and I completely agree with you. We need to
get those bastards. But still...we shouldn’t need to stay here for long and it had a pretty decently stocked bar. I figured we would keep everyone happy if they had a buzz. We stay the night and then we go back to the Ranch tomorrow maybe after we find and kill those fucks. This is just temporary. Right? We’re not planning on staying here for too long, are we?”

  The Colonel sat in thought for a few seconds. He was not thinking about any of Carter’s questions. He was trying to figure out how to best find the sons of bitches he was hunting. He had a hard time thinking about anything else at present, which was unusual for him. In his former legal practice, he needed to be able to predict the opposition’s plays before they made them. He needed to be nimble in his thoughts and his responses.

  Colonel Bear was feeling clouded and confused. He was thankful Carter seemed to have things well in hand. He wanted to listen to all Carter had said, but found following his answers too much of a chore. He trusted Carter’s judgment and decided it was time for him to find his own accommodations at the fine establishment at which they would be retiring for the evening.

  He poured another glass of liquor and then struggled his way out of the chair, moving back and forth to give himself leverage to rise. Finally on his feet and out of breath, the Colonel finished the glass of whiskey and then walked out without a word.

  When the Colonel departed, his odor remained much longer than Carter was willing to accept. Finally deciding that it was the chair in which the Colonel had been sitting, he made up his mind to move it out of his room. He wheeled it through his door and to the hallway. That didn’t suit his intentions either, so he pushed the chair down the length of the hallway and hurled it down the staircase.

  The chair’s landing was anything but climactic to him. He’d hoped the chair would explode with a loud crash and pieces flying in every direction. Instead, the chair hit the floor with the crash he wanted but it bounced across the lower hall and out of sight, causing a stir with the people standing down in the lobby keeping watch and gathered around the fire for heat. Three pairs of eyes peered around the wall and up at the source of the disturbance.

  Carter silently met the accusing, reproachful eyes with his own cold glare. He shook his head in disgust and then turned on his heels to go back to his room.

  With two more drinks in his system and boredom starting to creep its way into his mood, Carter staggered across his room to answer the door when there came another knock. When he opened the door, Kit was standing in the hall. She held up another bottle of something he didn’t recognize and opened her jacket to reveal her bare chest.

  Kit was a little older than Carter and not the most beautiful woman, but she was in great shape and more than willing for some adult entertainment. He stepped aside and let her join him. It would make his increasingly unwilling stay in Whittier a little more tolerable and help pass the time. It had been a little while since he had last been with a woman and the prospect of that kind of action elevated more than just his mood.

  More than an hour into his indulgence of the flesh, Carter was interrupted again with another knock to his door. He contemplated ignoring it and staying atop Kit, but the knocking became more desperate.

  “I’m not done yet, for Christ’s sake!” Carter growled.

  Kit positioned herself to accommodate Carter’s new angle but she was becoming increasingly less comfortable and disinterested. She smiled up at Carter with the clear signal of I’m done written on her expression. She pulled one of the pillows from behind her head and laid it across her bare chest, which glistened with sweat, some of hers and a lot of his, despite the cooler temperature in the room.

  Carter crawled off of her and walked to the door without grabbing his shorts or anything else to cover himself. He threw open the door wearing nothing more than anger on his face and the remnants of fading passion everywhere else.

  Ilya’s cheeks flushed red with embarrassment as soon as the door was open. He refused to look down but was dumbfounded, unable to find his words. He had been sent by Colonel Bear to get Carter.

  Carter finally barked, “What!?!”

  “Colonel Bear, he sent me...he sent me to...he wants you to—”

  “What the fuck are you trying to say?” Carter shouted. “Can’t you see that I’m busy? Can’t I have a moment to myself? Can’t you people figure things out for yourselves for a change?”

  “Sk-skins,” Ilya stammered. “We’ve got skins on the street. Looks like they’re coming toward us. The Colonel...he wants you—”

  Getting better control of his temper, Carter said, “Tell him I’m on my way.” He slammed the door and stormed back into the room, picking up his underwear and black jeans. To Kit he said, “Looks like we’ll have to finish later.”

  Kit rolled her eyes but made certain Carter didn’t see her gesture. She asked, “What do you want me to do?”

  “Get dressed and get ready to fight. D’you think you were just going to lay around here and wait for me?”

  Kit had hoped that perhaps she would see a little lighter duty if she made herself available for Carter’s pleasures. She knew it was a long shot but she had hoped to sleep in a bed rather than down in the lobby on the main floor where most everyone else was expected to sleep. She didn’t want to have to sleep in that big room filled with all the odors and sounds that men make when they sleep. It didn’t look like it was going to work out that way after all.

  She found her clothes near the table in the corner of the room and, once dressed, she exited his room and was told where she was needed.

  Chapter 49

  The light was on its last legs when Carter arrived at Colonel Bear’s side.

  “I sent a couple of guys out to look around,” the Colonel said, “see if they could find any evidence of the murderers. They’re not back yet and those skins down there are between our men and us. We need to sweep the street to let our boys be able to make it back. We can’t afford to keep losing people.”

  Carter rubbed his chin. “How many are there?” He wanted to ask why the Colonel had sent men out this close to night, but knew better than to question the Colonel’s orders or his motives.

  “I’ve counted seven and they’re movin’ slow. They may not know that we’re here yet.”

  “I think they know that we’re here in Whittier, but they may not know that we’re lookin’ down at them right now. If we do this right, we can get out there and put them down without causin’ too much of a stir. Then maybe we can get some rest tonight.”

  The Colonel summoned his commanding voice and ordered, “Make it happen. I don’t care how. Just get it done. Worry about your freakin’ rest on your own time.”

  Seething with anger, Carter descended the stairs into the group of militia gathered but keeping a low profile on the ground level of the hotel. To all of their questioning, worried faces he said, “No guns.”

  He walked to the front door of the hotel and opened it with gusto, attracting the attention of the moving group of undead changing their trajectory toward him. Carter stepped onto the street and blew some kisses at his would-be assailants. “Batter up,” he said.

  Seeing them come at him, Carter was able to deduce much about them within seconds. There were seven but there were two more trailing some distance behind. They all moved with the same dexterity and grace of alabaster sculptures. Whatever skin was showing on the walking corpses was weathered to an inorganic tone that approached slate and was pocked with open and festering sores and untreated wounds. Their arms flailed, reaching for him as they got closer to Carter, standing stock still in the street. When the things neared arm’s distance from their quarry, their subhuman moans, voices of the damned, filled the street with their poison.

  Choosing his moment perfectly, Carter leaned back on his heels and swung his modified wooden bat in a wide arc in front of him. He had driven sharpened metal wedges into the bat’s sides, making it into a lethal, medieval looking mace. When his weapon struck, the multiple blades wreaked havoc. If he st
ruck his target just right, he could cut straight through bone and sever the top half of its skull with very little effort.

  With his first three controlled swings, he was very nearly able to do that to three different creatures. He stepped confidently into the thick of them before any of the other militia people had joined him. When the quarters became too tight to swing his bat, Carter dropped it at his feet and pulled his long hunting knife. He kicked and punched and stabbed, spinning in a whirling tornado of death. With his swinging blade, he cut off fingers, slashed throats, and gouged eyes with impunity. Nothing could get close enough to threaten him with harm. He was a weapon unleashed.

  The other militiamen had moved to help Carter, but he was more than holding his own against this mob. The extra people merely cleaned up the mess Carter had made by finishing off the few knocked down and grievously wounded but not yet dispatched. They waded into the fray worrying about becoming a casualty to Carter as much as to the undead. One of them would hit one of the creatures in the back and then step away to avoid Carter’s subsequent attack on the same target.

  The brawl, because it was over too quickly and too lopsidedly to be called anything but, ended with Carter standing in the midst of seven truly dead, broken bodies. He found his bat at the bottom of the splattered blood and lifeless limbs and then went back inside, throwing over his shoulder, “There’s two more skins out there. Can I trust all of you to be able to handle them without me?”