Human Extinction Level Loss (Book 3): Liberation

by McClimon, Philip A.

  “Yeah, well, you just stay put. The only reason I’m doing this is because my son is hungry. You so much as get out of this car, I’ll bash your brains all over this highway, you understand?” Beverly said.

  Jacob turned his head and faced front again. Beverly waited another several seconds more before returning to the rear of the Jeep.

  Tommy saw his mom get to the back of the Jeep and he came running even before she gave the all clear.

  “Is it safe?” he asked.

  Beverly handed him one of the cans of stew and kept an eye on the front of the Jeep as she ate her own.

  Seeing his mom eat, Tommy dove hungrily into his own can.

  Even though it was cold, the stew reminded her just how hungry she was. As she ate, her gaze focused more on the contents of the can and less on the front of the Jeep. Her lethal tree branch rested forgotten against the tailgate. She was almost done eating when she heard the driverside door open. In a flash, she put the can down on the tailgate and grabbed her branch with her right hand, pushing Tommy behind her with her left. Jacob moved down the length of the Jeep and stopped just before the tailgate. He stood and looked at Beverly and Tommy.

  “My name is Jacob. Jacob Miller, not Asshole. I am headed West for a little while if you want a ride. I promise not to tie you up,” he said.

  Beverly stood still, mulling his words over in her mind.

  “Yeah… Well… Okay, as long as you don’t act like a creep or try to tie us up!” she said.

  For the second time, she felt chagrined as she realized he agreed to her terms before she made them. Jacob stared at her and let it sink in.

  “Yeah, Okay,” was all she could think to say to salvage her tough exterior.

  Jacob turned and made his way to the front of the Jeep.

  “Don’t you want to know our names?” Beverly asked.

  Jacob stopped, but did not turn around.

  “You’re Beverly and your son is Tommy. You already told me. I never forget a name… or a face,” he said, then opened his door and climbed behind the wheel. He sat inside the Jeep, waiting as Beverly and Tommy finished their meal.

  Eleven

  Beverly and Tommy slept in the back seat of Jacob’s Jeep Cherokee. Beverly had remembered what Mark used to tell Tommy to get him to go to sleep.

  “Beds are time accelerators. You go to sleep and when you wake up, hours will have passed and you didn’t even know.”

  They were no longer held captive by restraints, but that didn’t mean they were going where they wanted. While Jacob had agreed to take them West, he didn’t appear to make it his top priority. Beverly and Tommy were forced to go along for the ride, the route not always over highway. They were in a rural area, off the beaten path. Jacob watched the horde and waited. Beverly and Tommy stayed in the back seat, just trying to “speed up time.”

  Tommy awoke from his third nap of the day and looked around, momentarily dazed from the sleep. All was quiet in the woods. He looked over at his mother. Her head was propped up against the glass and her mouth hung open. A soft rasping half snore sounded and Tommy had to stifle a giggle so as not to wake her up. He looked around the Jeep for something to occupy his now decelerated time. Finding nothing, he looked out his window at the woods. The sun beamed through the trees, dappling the ground with shadows. Tommy looked over at his mother, and then, not wanting to wake her, quietly climbed over the back seat and out of the Jeep.

  Jacob lay prostrate, hands on his rifle. Below him in the valley, they passed, misshapen faces magnified by the superior optics of his rifle’s scope. Beside him, within easy reach, was his ledger. On a cloth next to them rested his pistol and binoculars. As was always the case, the only sound that could be heard were the mournful tones of the horde below.

  As Jacob watched, a new sound pricked his ever vigilant ears. From behind him, a rustling of leaves, the snapping of a branch. Without taking his eyes from the scope, Jacob slowly reached for the Mark I. He rolled from the scope and brought the red dot laser to bear on Tommy’s head, centered between his eyes.

  Tommy froze, even as Jacob’s finger flinched from the trigger. The two stared at each other for a long second, then Jacob turned quickly back to his scope, placing the pistol on the cloth next to his ledger. Tommy let out the breath he didn’t remember holding and pushed the rest of the way out of the tree line. He stood looking down at Jacob, who gave him no further acknowledgment.

  Needing no further encouragement anyway, Tommy got down on his stomach and looked down into the valley. Not satisfied with the view he was getting, he grabbed the binoculars and trained them on the passing horde. Beside him, Jacob cut his eyes at Tommy staring through his binoculars, but did not break his gaze from the scope.

  Growing quickly bored with staring at the sea of the Dead, Tommy set down the binoculars and reached over for the ledger. He stared at the single name on the inside cover, then flipped through the pages. Lists of names, some crossed out, others not, stared back at him. Jacob’s hand shot away from the rifle and snatched the book from Tommy’s grasp. Without looking away or saying a word, Jacob carefully placed the ledger back beside him, opening it again to his wife’s name on the inside cover. Tommy looked down, feeling scolded. As is the case with children and curiosity, the feeling passed and Tommy again picked up the binoculars and scanned the valley below.

  For a moment, the two lay in silence, but as is also the case with children, Tommy failed to grasp the concept of “seen but not heard.” The horde not holding the interest for him that it did for Jacob, he began to chat.

  “Why do you spend so much time watching all these zombies?” he said, staring up at the sky with the binoculars.

  Jacob gave every appearance of not hearing Tommy. Not discouraged in the least, Tommy pressed.

  “You’re shooting them, aren’t you? Then you mark off names in your book, right?” he said.

  Again, Jacob cut his eyes to Tommy, the question briefly breaking his concentration.

  Tommy continued to stare through the binoculars, studying his left hand with them. When he received no response from Jacob, Tommy lowered the binoculars and looked over at Jacob.

  “You’re putting them out of their misery, aren’t you? When you shoot them?” he asked.

  Jacob maintained his silent vigil. Tommy maintained his interrogation.

  “Why only them? Why don’t you try to shoot them all?” he asked.

  Beside him, Jacob blinked and pulled away from the scope ever so slightly.

  “You can’t save everybody, kid. How the rest became what they are is someone else’s burden. The ones in that book… they’re mine,” Jacob said, his voice low and tinged with regret.

  Tommy stared at Jacob a moment more, his child’s intellect trying to process the import of Jacob’s words. He placed the binoculars back up to his eyes and looked at the horde below.

  “You are a sheriff, huh? My dad is a policeman. You’ll meet him when he catches up to us. I bet you two could swap stories about all the bad guys you arr—”

  Tommy’s words were cut off by the explosive report of the rifle. He jumped, almost dropping the binoculars. Realizing Jacob had taken his shot, he quickly put them back up to his eyes and scanned below. The last of the horde passed. On the ground lay a portly elderly woman. The top half of her head blasted away.

  “Nice shot!” Tommy said.

  Jacob didn’t answer. He flipped through his ledger and found the name he was looking for. Tommy lowered the binoculars and looked over at Jacob, waiting for some kind of response. Jacob was silent as he broke down his rifle and gathered up his things. Tommy looked up at him as Jacob rose, grabbing the binoculars away from him. As Jacob turned to go, Tommy jumped up and followed.

  Beverly’s sleep was fitful. She saw Mark, but Mark was not alone.

  The Dead rushed towards him from the dark. By her side was Tommy. They tried to get away, but it felt like their feet weighed a thousand pounds, each step a labor, movement painfully slow. As
Beverly tried to get her feet to move faster, she turned and called back to her husband. He was screaming at them, waving them away with one hand, urging them at the top of his lungs to move quickly, to run. In his other hand was a pistol. She did not know how she knew, but she was certain Mark only had one more bullet.

  Beverly’s face contorted with the angst of her dream, her head shaking back and forth in denial of its truths.

  In the gloom, Beverly acquiesced to Mark’s pleas. She grabbed Tommy’s hand and tried to run against the inertia of the invisible force holding her back. As she began to leave her husband behind in the darkness, a thunderclap sounded, the last discharge of a now empty gun…

  Beverly snapped awake. Realizing where she was, she put her face in her hands and began to cry. As the tears came, she reached out for her son, seeking solace in what she had left. Her hands fell on the empty seat. Panic seized her as she struggled with the side door. When it wouldn’t open, she clamored over the seat and out the back, her breath coming in gasps, her emotions awash in abject fear. Hitting the ground, she tore off through the woods shouting her son’s name.

  Tommy walked beside Jacob through the woods and back towards the Jeep. Undeterred by Jacob’s wall of silence, Tommy prattled on.

  “Probably being a sheriff is the same as being a policeman. ‘Cept you guys have to be elected, where my Dad-”

  Tommy’s commentary was cut short by the sound of his name.

  “TOMMY!”

  Jacob stopped in his tracks and stared into the woods ahead of him. He looked down as Tommy brushed by him at a run.

  “Mom? MOM!” Tommy said, his voice gathering the shrill sound of fear as he ran.

  Jacob hiked the rifle case higher on his shoulder and pulled his pistol. He quickened his pace and followed Tommy.

  Emerging from the woods seconds after Tommy, Jacob looked down at Beverly clutching her son tightly to her breast. Her face a mask of pain giving way to relief as tears rolled down her cheeks.

  Twelve

  The awkwardness was palpable to Beverly as she sat on a large rock near Jacob’s Cherokee. She was hungry, but didn’t feel comfortable enough to grab some food from the former Sheriff’s supplies. She watched as Jacob stowed his gear, always careful, obsessively so with the rifle and his ledger. His vigil had gone long past dark and it was near midnight when he returned.

  Without saying a word, Jacob reached in and grabbed two cans, one clam chowder, the other beef stew. Using a can opener, he removed the lids and stuck a metal spoon in each, then left them sitting on the tailgate. Grabbing a can of chicken and rice, he went around to the driverside and sat down.

  As Beverly and Tommy finished eating, Tommy looked up at his mother.

  “It’s almost midnight, time for the broadcast, don’t ya think,” he said.

  Beverly smiled wanly and set her empty can on the tailgate. Going around to the driverside, she approached Jacob. The only illumination was from the Jeep’s interior dome light, casting Jacob in amber shadows as he ate. He continued to eat as she stood there.

  “We try to catch the radio broadcast at least once a day… Do you think we could listen to it on your radio?” Beverly asked.

  Jacob continued to eat for a few more seconds and didn’t look at Beverly. She was about to plead her case further when Jacob shrugged and gestured toward the radio with a slight movement of his head. Beverly crossed her arms and nodded at him.

  “Thank you. They usually aren’t long, but with no TV or music, you know…”

  Her words trailed off as Jacob’s only response was to stare into his can and continue eating.

  A few seconds later, Beverly opened the passenger side door and sat down. Tommy leaned against her and turned on the radio. Jacob, his back to them, did not show any interest. Static greeted them across the airwaves and Beverly checked her watch.

  “She’ll start right at twelve, mom. Nicole’s never late. She knows people out here are relying on her,” Tommy said.

  Beverly blinked back her tears, hearing the quiet confidence in her young son that hinted at a wisdom beyond his years. True to her son’s word, a second later the static ceased and a woman began to speak.

  “This is Nicole Bennett. We are survivors. To anybody that can hear us, and can get here, we offer you refuge. I guess those words are getting old by now, but it just seems the right way to begin. We have a good place here and we welcome any who want to make a new start and are willing to lend a hand.

  Okay, it’s the late broadcast and for those weary on the road, I won’t keep you long. Get some sleep, stay safe wherever you are and tomorrow, if you can, make miles West on the 70. When you get here, there will be folks waiting at the gates for you. If you are just passing through, we can offer you a bowl of hot stew. It’s made from scratch by Ruby herself. We set up a trading post of sorts. We’d be happy to trade for things we need and maybe get you something you need.

  Speaking of which, we welcome you free of charge, but if on your way here you happen along some things we need, we would be obliged if you could pick them up. The things we could use right now are cases of air freshener. Febreeze would be best, but we will take all kinds. Along with that, those plastic zip ties, the kind cops sometimes use to cuff people. Any size will do.

  I said when you get here we would ask you some questions, but it’s not an interrogation. We are a growing community, but still small. We need everybody to lend a hand wherever they can, but if you have a special skill it would be good to know.

  This is not a dictatorship or an armed camp, just folks who need each other. We all have different strengths and together we can make it better.

  I promised I would keep it short and so I will. This is not a loop, we are real. Stay safe tonight and get here when you can.

  This is Nicole Bennett, signing off.”

  Tommy reached over and switched off the radio. He sat staring at it for several seconds before looking up at his mother. Beverly stared down at her son, the hope and pleading in his eyes was like a knife to her heart.

  “Do you think wherever Dad is right now, he could hear the broadcast?” Tommy asked.

  The knife twisted as tears filled her eyes. She took a deep breath and struggled with how to respond.

  “Tommy, you remember when that terrible thing happened on Sunny Island… Founder’s Day?”

  Tommy nodded. “Dad saved a bunch of people,” he said.

  Beverly pulled Tommy close and held him against her. She caressed his hair and faced the black reality of her next words.

  “Your dad was one of the bravest men I ever knew. He would always do what he had to, to keep people safe, even if that meant putting himself in harm’s way. You understand that, right?” she asked.

  Again, Tommy nodded. “That’s what made him such a good policeman, right?” Tommy asked.

  “That’s right, sweetie. That’s what made him such a good policeman. Well, as much as he would do to keep other people safe, he would do even more to keep us safe. That’s what he did in that tunnel. He put himself in harm’s way to make sure we got out of there, that we would be safe.”

  Sensing that his mother was taking him down a dark road, Tommy sat up and looked his mother full in the face.

  “Yeah, but Dad came back from the island. He came back from the store, too. He always comes back.”

  His voice took on a pleading tone mixed with a demand that what he was saying was worthy of belief, not just for himself but his mother too.

  Beverly’s eyes rimmed with tears as she looked at her son.

  “Tommy, baby… This time Daddy’s not coming back. He did what he had to do to keep us safe, but-”

  “No, Mom! You’re not listening!. You’re wrong!” Tommy shouted. He took a breath to begin his argument anew when Jacob interrupted from the driver’s side. So involved was she in the heart wrenching conversation, Beverly looked over at Jacob as if he had appeared out of thin air.

  “Is that real?” Jacob asked.

 
; Beverly blinked at Jacob and Tommy turned and looked at him.

  “That radio broadcast, is it real? I… was in a house once and the TV came on, but I didn’t…”

  Beverly wiped her eyes, frustrated at the interruption, wanting and not wanting to have the talk with Tommy.

  “Yes, it’s real. You think we would be out here if it weren’t? How long have YOU been out here?” Beverly asked.

  Jacob stared at her over his shoulder. Before he could answer, Tommy interjected.

  “You think my Dad’s coming back, right, Mr Miller? You’re like a policeman, so you know, right?”

  Jacob looked down at Tommy, who stared back with the same hope filled eyes.

  Beverly sat up, apprehension seizing her, sensing the delicate place her son was in and not trusting Jacob to understand that. Her fear was realized when Jacob’s face bore a flat expression as he gazed down at Tommy.

  “If your dad was in that tunnel, he’s dead if he’s lucky, and one of those things if he ain’t.”

  Tear filled defiance flared in Tommy’s eyes as he stared at Jacob.

  “You Lie! You’re both lying!” Tommy screamed.

  Beverly stared daggers through Jacob.

  “You bastard!” she hissed and appeared ready to lunge at Jacob.

  Her attack was forestalled by Tommy climbing over her and out of the Jeep. He slipped into the gathering dark. Beverly tore her eyes off of Jacob and went after her son, leaving Jacob sitting alone.

  Thirteen

  Beverly sat on the rock and hugged her knees. The day was nice, not hot, not too cool. The green trees and gray rocks were in sharp relief and seemed to reach for the sky, a sky so blue it almost hurt her eyes.

  In the valley below, they moved, an ebbing and flowing river of death that cascaded over the landscape and under the watchful eye of Jacob Miller. Like the horde moving through the canyon below, Beverly felt the misery coursing through her. They had set out to find a better place. The broadcast had seemed a beacon of hope for all of them, but now they were only two. Beverly thought the risk they had taken did not seem worth the cost, not by a long shot.