by Mark Tufo
Tyler had stood with Eric since they’d become separated from their parents and the other adults after the attack at the Monon Center. Stood with him as he always had. Eric had been able to get them this far, and now everyone looked to him for answers. Looked to him as the leader of this band of eleven teenagers.
“We can’t stay here forever, Eric. Nobody knows where we are and sooner or later the food and water we have is going to run out,” Tyler said with a slight whine in his voice.
“I know, I know,” Eric replied as he began to pace, trying to figure out what he could offer the group. He was trying to formulate into words a way to ease the tensions that were building. He was only fifteen, and would gladly run into the arms of his mom and dad, his Uncle Harry. But that was not an option for now.
After a few moments of consideration, he stopped pacing and said, “Right now we are okay. We have more information than we had a few days ago, and at least we know what we’re facing.” Eric considered his next words carefully. “If we stick together we have a chance. Those things out there can’t get in, so we have time to get things together more and plan out what we do next.”
“Hey Eric,” Joey Benson, the computer whiz in the group, called out from another desk that had been set up. It was piled high with all manner of computer parts he had collected. “I think I can modify this satellite phone and connect it directly to a computer. We would just need to get an antenna on the roof.”
Eric and the other kids rushed over to Joey. Looking at the mess atop the desk, Eric said, “Are you sure, Joey? Can you bypass the battery?”
“I sure can.” Joey replied, looking pleased with himself. “There’s enough juice left in some of these other batteries that if I connect them together we should be good!” He was referring to the stacks of loose batteries that had been collected in a cardboard box next to the desk. “We may only get a few uses out of the phone but it should work!”
“That’s great, Joey.” Eric said, then turned to the others. “This changes everything, guys! If we can get that thing working again we can send out messages! Somebody will hear those and help will come!” Although he was smiling broadly, he knew having the sat phone working really meant nothing. It took days to reach the Guardsman on the West Coast, but he had to offer his friends something to pull them out of their morose mood.
This small glimmer of hope worked almost immediately. “This is great!” Tyler said. “Okay, Eric, what should we do now?”
Eric, Tyler, and the other kids spent the next few hours continuing to fortify their stronghold in the gym at Carmel High School. Eric relayed what he had been told by the Guardsman about the weapons, and they soon were able to at least load the magazines into wells and dry fire the M16s. The next step would be live round practice, but they had no idea where to do that just yet.
The kids were exhausted, both mentally and physically, after surviving another day. They all ate together in relative silence that evening before bedding down for the night. Muffled crying was heard after some of the battery-powered lights were turned out, but nobody said anything about that. Eric was still wide awake as he made the rounds, checking the doors of the gym they had secured. He had already done that at least four other times earlier that evening, but he was going to make certain everyone was as safe as possible.
He quietly made his way up one set of open bleachers to reach the windows. The kids had covered them with black plastic sheeting they’d found in a storage room. Pulling back a section he had cut when the plastic was first put up, he gazed out into the parking lot that teemed with the infected. They were just milling around and Eric was thankful they were no longer attempting to get through the school’s heavy steel doors. Looking out at the mass, he suddenly felt overwhelming hopelessness.
“Hey man, you okay?” Tyler asked as he suddenly appeared next to Eric, startling him.
“Damn, you scared the crap out of me!” Eric said as he glanced at Tyler for a moment before returning his gaze through the window.
“Sorry. I saw you come up here. You looked kind of bummed and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” Tyler said while looking out at the horde as well. “Doesn’t look like there are as many of them now.” Turning from the window, he sat down heavily on the bleacher with his back resting against the wall. “This all seems so hopeless. What are we really going to do?”
“It’s not hopeless, Tyler,” Eric replied as he glanced down at his best friend. A calmness had suddenly replaced the despair that threatened to overcome him just moments ago. “What we are going to do is survive! I don’t know how I know this but my uncle is on the way. I can feel it. So until he gets here, we are going to keep those guys down there safe, and we are going to make it.” Eric reached his hand toward his friend as he had many times. “You and I are going to stay strong for them and wait.”
Tyler looked up to Eric, considering his words, then grasped the outstretched hand and allowed himself to be helped up. Once on his feet he simply nodded once in agreement. Eric returned his attention to the window which faced west, looking past the horror that surrounded the school.
“We’re going to survive and we’re going to wait,” Eric repeated more to himself than to Tyler. “We’re here, Uncle Harry. Please hurry.”
# # #
**”Flotilla of the Dead: Sovereign Spirit Saga"
Copyright April 1, 2012
Used with permission of David P. Forsyth
Thank you for reading Book One of the series, SURVIVORS OF THE DEAD. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. The saga continues in Book Two, THE ROAD UNKNOWN, following Harry and his team as they cross a devastated country while Eric and his friends struggle to survive against nearly impossible odds! Coming to Amazon Kindle and in paperback in 2014.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Originally from Indiana, Tony Baker moved to San Francisco in the early 1980's, where he spent the next thirty years garnering a great deal of insight into human nature – experience which created a perfect understanding of the possibilities that await should an apocalyptic event befall society. Being an avid reader of the horror genre for years, Tony developed a deep-seated desire to write. After years of contemplating that desire, he took the first step on that journey in September of 2012 and began writing From the Ashes, the first book in his Survivors of the Dead series. Book two in the series, THE ROAD UNKNOWN, is on track to publish Fall 2014
Tony can be contacted through one of the links below, and is always very happy to hear from readers and other authors.
Website: www.tonybakerauthor.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Tony415SF
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/tonyb415
Red Sky
This book is a work of fiction. Names, Characters, places and events are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual names, characters and places are entirely coincidental. The reproduction of this work in full or part is forbidden without written consent from the author.
Copyright 2013 Travis Tufo
Cover Art:
Cover Art by Shaed Studios, shaedstudios.com
Electronic Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.
Dedications: Thank you to my beta-readers, Vix Kirkpatrick, Joy Buchanan and
To the first responders and men and women of the armed forces, you have my admiration and respect for all the sacrifices you endure to keep us all safe.
“To my dearest Maria,
This may be the last letter I send to you for a while. But don’t despair my dear; it is because my officer says the war is rounding an end and has me going on m
ore missions to dwindle down the Germans. Although the frequent deployments take a toll on my body, it means that I am one step closer to seeing you again. That in itself gives me enough strength to push on. Any moment now I could be finishing my last act of duty and will be able to hop in a truck and drive back home. It fills my heart with joy to think that we could be so close to seeing each other once again, but this time I will be home for good. Continue to keep busy my dear and remember that I love you and miss you.
Sincerely,
Joseph”
Riding in the back of a jeep returning from his previous mission, Joseph read the letter aloud as he wrote it on the sheet of tattered paper he had been holding. He sat there in his blood soaked Soviet uniform with his helmet on his lap and fifteen German dog tags inside of it. His helmet was dented, scratched and had a bullet hole in it. It had the name Maria carved into it, but you could only see it if you looked hard enough through the dried blood and scratches. Joseph was a Soviet soldier who stood 6-feet and was pushing 245 pounds of solid muscle. He owned a farm where all he did was physical labor, making him the muscular soldier he was. He lived on his farm with his beloved wife Maria. Drafted into the war, he became notorious for being a skilled sniper, brutal killer, and an unmatched reconnaissance leader. He was more of a mercenary than a soldier, due to the fact that he was put into a battalion where his officer would assign him and his fellow soldiers certain missions. Those who survived were sent to do another until they were all dead. For this reason, Joseph met, and shortly thereafter had to bury many of his own friends. Everyone in his starting squad had died, along with the next three squads of 20 to 30 soldiers each. Remarkably, he always managed to find his way back alive to his officer, who gave him his next mission with a smirk on his face. Joseph even out lived his starting officer who died in a plane that was shot down by German anti-air cannons. Due to his officer’s death, Joseph was transferred over to another battalion that functioned in a similar way. The commanding officer would give the soldiers their missions and hoped they returned for another. The soldiers slept in tents around their campsite in a rural area surrounded by trees. The sunlight never seemed to hit this campsite; it was always enshrouded in dark grey clouds covering a red sky. It was an eerie place to set up, but it worked. As for the commanding officer, he had his own personal quarters in a small building. Inside the building were two rooms, one with a desk where the officer handed out missions to his soldiers and another with a bed where he would rarely sleep. It was in this battalion Joseph would meet a man equally as savage as himself who would become his best friend—a man by the name of Vladimir. He was a huge man; when he stood next to Joseph; he made Joseph look like a young boy. He was close to seven feet and weighed no less than 280 pounds. Jokingly, but often in a serious way his squad mates referred to him as Vlad the Impaler because he would often de-limb and brutally mutilate German soldiers with his bayonet. For every kill Vlad had with a bullet, he had three more with his bayonet, which he called his “dear Sasha”. It only seemed right that these two almost inhumane brutes would become great friends and would fight for each other with their own lives at stake. Mission after mission these men would return to their officer, eagerly awaiting their next chance to kill.
Joseph and Vladimir did everything their commanding officer assigned them, from killing multiple guards outside an enemy encampment allowing a battalion of Soviet soldiers to enter unseen, to hunting down and murdering German officers and sergeants in order to demoralize the Nazis. Neither of them knew the meaning of mercy, which meant gallons of blood were often spilled to complete a mission, necessary or not. They were not against killing a woman or a child if it meant they got to return to their commanding officer with the dog tags he asked for. The war almost became a game to them; they would see who could collect more of the metallic ID’s by killing the most men, or even who could kill the most unarmed people in a town with nothing but their bayonets. They became so notorious in their ruthless kills that their names would be in German newspapers offering rewards for their heads; later their names were in newspapers telling Germans to stay clear of them.
Joseph only fought in this war to once again be with his wife Maria. And after hundreds of missions and even more Germans murdered along the way, his commanding officer, Viktor, presented Joseph with the opportunity to see her again. The day after Joseph returned from a mission where he was ordered to track down a German medical caravan and “demobilize” every single truck, Viktor entered his tent to speak to him. Viktor watched as Joseph bandaged his thigh, which had received a bullet wound from a German mp40 sub machine gun.
“Hello, Joseph. I see you have returned from your trip,” Viktor spoke in his faded, rough voice.
He paused to cough, as he was an avid smoker. No sooner after he finished coughing he began to light up a large cigar.
“You’re lucky that bullet only nicked your femur bone, “Viktor said with a smirk. He was an older man with all grey hair, his uniform always kept slick and neat. He liked being in power and always strived for his soldiers to acknowledge his superiority over them. A scar ripped through the top of his forehead down through his milky white left eye and ended in a small hook midway down his cheek.
“Sir, don’t you have something better to do? Like go order some soldiers to kiss your ass before you send them to their death? ” Joseph asked sarcastically with a smile on his face. Ignoring the pain in his thigh, he stood up to be eye level with Viktor.
“You better watch what you say to me, or I might have to refrain from informing you of the good news I have been waiting to tell you,” Viktor responded as he blew a huge smoke cloud into Joseph’s face. Joseph’s eyebrows rose. He was clearly interested in what Viktor had to say.
Ignoring the smoke he asked, “What are you talking about old man? The only time you gave me good news was the day you told me the bullet I took right in my chest wasn’t fatal.”
“ Ahhh…yes I remember that day. Well, if you weren’t such a soft solider I wouldn’t have felt the need to tell you that you were going to be all right.” Viktor laughed and paused to cough once again. He stopped to gather his composure before continuing.
“But seriously Joseph, I do have rather good news for you. I have thought for quite a long time now that you have done more than your fair share for the motherland. You will go down in history as a hero to the Russians and a nightmare to the Germans forever. Stories will be told of Joseph the Tyrant to dirty little German boys and girls before they lay down to sleep in the rubble of where their streets used to be.”
“All right sir, I get it. Cut to the chase!” Joseph said, eagerly awaiting this news Viktor spoke of.
“Patience is the only thing you never learned in the military. My news is that if you do one more mission for me, one simple mission that requires little to no effort for you, I will let you go. ”
A silence filled the tent. The two men stood there, eyes locked.
“Let me go where, sir?”
Joseph was playing dumb, but also wondering if Viktor was going to tell him the incredible news he wanted to hear.
“Go wherever you wish. Whether that means you stay here in this tent till you rot away, or back to this Maria girl I hear you talk of so much.”
Viktor turned to the slit in the tent from where he entered before Joseph could reply and ducked down to exit.
“I’ll leave the briefing on my desk tomorrow for you to look over,” Viktor called from outside as he walked towards his quarters.
Joseph sat back down and soaked in the information he was just presented with. He looked around his tent and then to his leg as if to see if he was dreaming. He dug his finger into his wound, the pain helping him realize that yes indeed he was awake. Knowing he would never get to sleep, he lay down on his cot, thoughts churning.
When the next day came he opened his tent to the same grey clouds and same red sky he had grown to know. He hobbled on his hurt leg past all his fellow comrades, not returning any of the
ir greetings. He reached his officer’s quarters and very slowly lifted his hand to the doorknob and grasped it. As he did adrenalin filled his body. He turned the knob and opened the door, seeing no one. He wasn’t surprised though. Viktor never seemed to be around. He was always at some brothel or off trying to get more cigars. Joseph approached the desk one slow step at a time. He could feel and hear his breathing getting louder and harder. He saw a yellow folder that he knew contained possibly the best news he would ever receive. He grabbed the folder and held it in his hands for a second, thoughts of Maria and his farm rushing into his head. Taking a deep breath, he ripped it open and immediately read what it had to say. No one was ever excited to get a new mission. Soldiers always waited in their tents and hoped that on that day their commanding officer wouldn’t enter to hand them a dreaded yellow folder. But today was different for Joseph. He began to weep as he read, something he hadn’t done since he left Maria two years ago. He was now so close to seeing her. All he had to do was complete one last mission, one that didn’t even seem to be that much work to him. After reading through the briefing, Joseph returned to his tent where he spent the next three days resting his leg and re-reading what was inside the folder.
“All I have to do is find one man. One man is my way to Maria,” he mumbled to himself.
Joseph spent the next two months healing and growing to hate this “one man”. The man had never done anything to Joseph; they’d yet to even speak. But with every fiber of his being he despised this man. Joseph stopped talking to anyone other than Vladimir and Viktor. He was too preoccupied thinking of how he was going to kill this man, a German whose only job was to run a factory that produced parts used to build German planes. Joseph thought to himself that this one man was the entire reason he was away from Maria. He couldn’t just simply kill this man; he had to make this man suffer. Joseph became more bloodthirsty than ever before.
