Graham's Resolution Trilogy Bundle: Books 1-3

by A. R. Shaw

  Graham knew that meant he had to let his enemy loose to gleefully resume its mutilation of him, but letting go of his self-preservation held the only hope to free him from the attack. He pulled back and lay as flat as possible to help give his rescuer a clear shot at the beasts. A second shot rang out, and then a third. The gruesome growling ended, and a great weight fell onto his torn-open leg.

  18 The Carnation Boy

  McCann had dared to close his eyes for more than a few minutes before his ever vigilant subconscious picked up on something: tires traveling on compact ice. His ears were attuned to the distressed whinny of his horses tied out back behind the one-level brick home he currently occupied. Every hour or so, overnight, wolves continued to try and mark the horses as easy prey.

  Coming from Carnation through a snowstorm hadn’t been a good idea after all, and McCann soon regretted the trek, but when the flakes began to fall in sheets, turning back made no more sense than going on. He pushed through and had finally made the last stretch the previous morning, but so far, because of wolves and wild dogs, he hadn’t slept more than two hours straight.

  “Aw shit! Now, someone comes? I’m never going to get any goddamn sleep,” he grumbled, even though the prospect of seeing someone—anyone—after many weeks alone brought a kind of giddiness he would not admit to.

  McCann lifted himself off the living room couch of the little redbrick house and grabbed his cowboy hat and his rifle from the coffee table in one fell swoop. After inching toward the door, he peeked out the window and spotted someone’s truck parked at the post office a block down the road. “I might as well wait for him to find the note,” he mumbled.

  In the beginning, when the pandemic had first hit, McCann had nursed each member of his family—as in, helping them to die as peacefully as possible. After they were all dead and buried he had no plans to leave his family’s ranch. One afternoon while checking on the cattle stock, a movement caught his attention down the dirt driveway. Of all the people in the town of Carnation, he never envisioned his elderly fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Goode, walking to his front door. As frail as her ancient body appeared, having come this far out of downtown must have been a tremendous feat.

  Once he approached her, she informed him that they were the only two still alive. She also chastised him for trying to keep up the livestock on his father’s ranch.

  “Let ’em go, son. They can take care of themselves better than you can. You can’t keep doing this all on your own; it’ll wear you down. I won’t be on this earth much longer, and I’ll be grateful for the end when it comes; I don’t much like living this quiet. However, you need to find some people to herd as you take care of these cows. McCann, you can’t stay here by yourself.”

  She took up residence in his little sister’s vacant room and stayed with him from that point until her death. She stopped taking her heart medication, but McCann didn’t know that. He only knew she became weaker every day. It wasn’t long before he sat by her bedside one night as her life drifted away in a hush. Later, he found the medication hidden away in her bag and knew what she’d done.

  He’d planned to hole up at the ranch as best he could despite what Mrs. Goode had said. However, once winter really took hold, the quiet that snuck in through the doorways and cold windowpanes strangled his hope. He soon realized he wouldn’t want to repeat another winter there alone and began to think of the man who had stopped in town months earlier. The blue-eyed girls he’d seen in the Scout’s backseat that day visited him often in his dreams, and soon plans to make his way to Cascade formulated in his mind. The next thing he knew, he stood watching the cattle scatter as he held open the metal gate for the last time.

  The snarling of feral dogs and the first hollers of pain jerked him back into the present. He spun from the window and took off running, armed and already guessing what had taken place. As he rounded the corner, seeing the man with three dogs on him sent McCann into action. The first dog went down easily, but the man himself was in the way of other shots. It took some horrified patience and careful angling to get a clear shot of the mauling targets. Immediately the oversight of not warning this man of the wild dog activity he’d already taken notice of in his short time in Carnation weighed on him.

  With the dogs dispatched, McCann holstered his gun and reached down, sinking two fists into the deep matt of the dog’s gray fur. He grabbed and pulled the weight off the man. With the blood already staining the surrounding snow, his injuries appeared pretty bad. Flesh torn wide open hung out of his upper right thigh. McCann helped Graham sit up and checked the injured left shoulder. It bled, but luckily, the coat padding had saved him from too much damage.

  The pain must be gruesome McCann thought as Graham groaned. “I’m real sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

  “Me too. Not your fault. Goddamn assholes,” Graham said, staring at the downed menace. McCann tried to help him up, but he yelled out in pain.

  “Ribs,” Graham said; then he gasped and passed out.

  McCann dragged Graham to the pickup, hoping his ribs were cracked or bruised, not actually broken and about to pierce a lung; that would be way beyond his abilities in first aid. He opened the back door and pushed Graham inside. He had lost a lot of blood, and McCann needed to get him back to his temporary residence to stem further bleeding.

  He couldn’t drive the man to his camp; he didn’t know where the hell that might be. Besides that, he suspected more dogs might show up with the smell of fresh blood in the air. McCann hated the damn things. Despite the loneliness, predators were the second-best reason he’d decided to abandon his own home and come here. Well, that was the story he was going with, anyway.

  After he got Graham inside the brick house, he instantly went to work to try to stop the bleeding by using kitchen towels and anything he could find to apply pressure to the wounds.

  Graham was still out cold, and that was a good thing. McCann had learned first aid on his father’s ranch, most of which he’d used on cattle, not people. More often than not, steers tended to open themselves up by rubbing their fool selves along barbed wire or the sharp ends of fence gates. He’d had numerous chances to practice his surgery skills, fine-tuning his techniques with each incident. He’d also helped deliver many calves during the season, and when a heifer had a vaginal prolapse, McCann was the first to replace the tissue and suture the wounds, just like his father taught him.

  Before the pandemic, he had far-fetched plans to go off to med school. Now he was just thankful he’d learned as much as he did for everyday survival because, sadly, those dreams were over.

  McCann pulled back the compress and saw mangled tissue bleeding badly. Luckily, the injury was on the outside of Graham’s right thigh and not near the major arteries on the inside, near his groin. Almost sure the wound would get infected, McCann knew the man was in for a long recovery. He felt for a pulse and then used his pocketknife to rip Graham’s jeans open. McCann removed his coat and put another log in the brick fireplace because he had a long day ahead of him. Then he got busy collecting and sterilizing the supplies he would need to treat this guy’s injuries if there were any hope of getting him through this.

  19 Manning Media

  “Good afternoon, sunshine, what’s up?” Dalton asked Rick as he wandered into the media tent after lunch. The morning had been a long one, and he was sure the rest of the day would drag out even longer. He’d barely slept the night before, as he suffered from his own moral conflict.

  “Same damned thing; the world ended, but our four corners are secure. Reuben, Steven, and a few others are headed out on their scheduled hunt early tomorrow morning. They’re going on the northwest trail since Sam and his group are straight north.”

  Dalton watched Rick, who obviously had something more on his mind; he sat in his chair with his back to Dalton and was doing that damn tapping thing again, which always led to trouble, as Dalton saw it.

  “What else?”

  “Macy called in earlier. She said Graham h
ad left camp early this morning. He was going into town for something, but she didn’t catch for what or why, and a few of the cameras are iced over despite the fucking auto defrost mechanism. I can’t see a damn thing in town.”

  “You may not track him, Rick. I know what you’re thinking. He’s probably sick of being cooped up indoors like the rest of us and needed some air. Those trackers probably don’t work now anyway. They eventually work their way out to the surface of the skin, and they’re out by now.”

  Rick spun around to face Dalton. “Yeah. Something’s off, though. Something’s not right.”

  “That’s so prophetic of you, Rick.” Dalton stared at his old friend. The stress in his eyes made him appear tired, and Dalton guessed he’d stayed up late with Addy and Bethany giggling into the night. To base anything on less than a fact for Rick was new. Dalton thought perhaps the lowering of testosterone, now that he was past forty, was getting to him. Having Rick PMSing was a frightening thought.

  “Why don’t you go get a late lunch? I’ll man the media for a while.”

  “All right,” Rick said, never one to turn down the prospect of a hot meal. But as he got up to make his way out of the tent he stopped. “Just remembered. Clarisse hiked her way to quarantine bright and early this morning. She said to tell you she had some work to do, and Addy’s staying with Bethany for the afternoon. She said she’d be back by dinner.”

  “Okay, Rick, thanks.”

  “She’d better be back by dinner,” Dalton said under his breath.

  He checked the existing cameras and surveyed the boundary compound fence. It was clear other than a few snowdrifts. They had no way of knowing if the storm was yet over. It was anyone’s guess.

  On further inspection, the path to the quarantine building appeared clear as well. He checked the inside cameras and found Clarisse hovering over a microscope again, as always. He wondered if she’d slept at all last night. At least she was inside and safe for now, even if she was still pissed at him.

  Tearing himself away from her image, Dalton checked the other cameras in their own camp and noted in the log the time and condition. Next he viewed Graham’s camp and found Macy on watch at the drive side, and he could barely make out Bang on the lake side through the partially frosted lens. Tala was in the greenhouse, and he supposed Ennis was still inside the cabin, though without the cameras he had no idea. The absence of Graham’s truck in the driveway showed that he hadn’t yet returned from town. He missed seeing his kid cousin, Mark, but Dalton was sure he was having the time of his life with Sam and Marcy out on their hunt.

  He reviewed all the exterior cameras and found nothing out of the ordinary in the deep of winter after a big storm. He made more notations in the log and turned his attention to the town cameras. One in particular was blacked out completely, and the others were nothing but blobs of grayness.

  All of a sudden the radio crackled to life, and the sound was Clarisse’s voice coming in, low and sweet. “Rick, can you get Steven? He was on guard duty last night, but I’m hoping he’s up by now. I need someone else to take a look at this.” By the sound of it Dalton could tell she was pretty excited about something, though he wished she wasn’t sharing the news with Steven.

  He gazed at her on the screen for a few seconds before he hit the microphone button. “It’s me, Clarisse. Rick’s taking a lunch break,” he said, hearing the tension in his own voice, coming out low and hoarse. He surveyed her body language for any reaction.

  “Oh,” she said and paused. “Can you please get Steven out here?” By the way she pulled abruptly away from the radio, he thought she still fumed over last night’s episode.

  “Yeah, I’ll send him out right away. Do you need anything from here? Coffee? A muffin?”

  “No. I only need Steven. Thank you.”

  He smiled now, because she was still more than a little pissed, and he needed her to be. If she ever turned her steamy gaze on him again, like the night before, he was afraid of what he might do—of what he might discard because he needed her.

  He couldn’t let her have her own way, either. It was too bad, but she needed to follow the rules like the rest of them. What would they do without her otherwise?

  He cleared his throat from all that, and when he said, “All right, I’ll send him over,” his voice was still gruff. He didn’t mean it to be. He had no right or claim to her, and if she needed Steven, he would get the guy for her. But he wouldn’t be happy about it.

  “Clarisse out,” she clipped quickly, as if she couldn’t hang up fast enough.

  He didn’t like that she needed Steven, but a relationship between her and Steven would be for the best. He ignored his jealousy for now and went in search of the guy.

  Steven was the closest Clarisse had to an assistant these days. In his prior life he had been a paramedic, and before that he served in Afghanistan with the rest of them as a medic.

  The first place to look for anyone in the afternoon was in the mess tent and, more specifically, in the coffee line. Dalton liked to get in the dining area first thing in the morning because he hated anyone standing between him and his coffee.

  He surveyed the tent and found the man he looked for. With his blond hair sticking up in all directions, Steven looked like he’d just rolled out of bed. He must have just walked out of the shower and lost his comb somewhere along the way to the mess tent. Dalton smiled at the guy, though his instincts told him to strangle him.

  “What?” Steven asked, seeing Dalton stare him down.

  Dalton knew it was too early for Steven after pulling the midnight guard shift duty.

  “Clarisse needs your assistance,” Dalton informed him.

  “Since when does she need my help?”

  “She discovered something, and wants you to come look at her findings,” Dalton explained to him.

  “Oh. So she needs me, then?” Steven puffed out his chest with mock importance and plastered a big smile on his face.

  “Yep, but don’t let it go to your head,” Dalton barked at him.

  “All right! Let me get some coffee. If I can get through this goddamn line!” he yelled, enough for Rick to get the idea to hurry up. He was taking his sweet time mixing his own brew to perfection.

  Dalton watched as Rick said with deliberate slowness, “Keep your pants on, man. It’s not the end of the world; well, not quite yet, anyway.” Then, the other two people waiting in line parted to each side knowing from experience Steven would retaliate. As Dalton expected, Steven walked up behind the unsuspecting Rick and deliberately pushed the other man’s elbow just enough that the brew sloshed all over the counter.

  Dalton gave up and walked back to the media tent as Rick’s explicative retort wafted behind him. These proceedings would be the beginning of a tit-for-tat game that would both entertain and drive others crazy for days until they both called it a draw. To Dalton, Steven’s antics meant that, without a doubt, Clarisse would not settle in the long term for anyone so childish. That acknowledgment both thrilled and terrified him.

  Steven finally got his coffee fixed and changed his now sodden and coffee-stained T-shirt; Rick had dispensed the rest of his remaining brew in one impressive splash aimed directly at his chest. Steven had called a temporary truce, then headed back to his tent to change and don his outerwear before he made his way over to Clarisse in the quarantine building. As he opened the lab door, she turned, looking impatient. It was obvious she had been waiting for him.

  A really broad grin wasn’t something he’d ever have expected to cross Clarisse’s face, so when one did, it creeped him out a little. So much so that he shot a quick glance behind himself in case Rick had somehow appeared there with some kind of sadistic reprisal.

  “What is going on? I like you better bitchy and arrogant. It’s too damn early for this, even though it’s nearly evening,” he complained like a little boy as she led him by the elbow over to the microscope. “At least it’s too early for me.”

  “Look,” she commanded, po
inting to the microscope.

  He sat and took a peek through the scope. After a few seconds, he gave up. “What am I looking at here?”

  “Antibodies.”

  “Clarisse, I treat the wounded. This isn’t exactly my thing. Please explain.”

  “Okay, so, as you remember, before the pandemic we had no vaccine for the avian flu. The government stocked antivirals, but they did little to affect this mutated version of the avian flu, and actually, it prolonged suffering but did not prevent death.

  “Then they tried the vaccine, which included the adjuvant they needed to stabilize the vaccine, but that caused narcolepsy. As if we didn’t have enough to worry about already.” She was pacing in front him now. “That vaccine never worked to begin with. It was for a different variation altogether.”

  She stopped pacing. “Really, Steven this is so sick and sad. If only our government had funded the research we needed to come up with this variation, not nearly so many would have died. But no, they had to give millions to fund farming in China or video game research in California.”

  Steven interrupted her, “Hey, I for one miss video games, and you’re ranting. Get to the point. I need more coffee.”

  “I think I have it. You’re looking at the antibodies I took from subject twelve.”

  He scrunched his eyebrows together.

  “You mean Harry? You gave Harry H5N1 and a vaccine that actually produced antibodies?”

  “Hey, I told you not to name the ferrets. And, actually, no, not quite. I gave Harry and three of his ferret buddies a vaccine containing HA (hemagglutinin) with aluminum phosphate, plus a new adjuvant that I’ve been working with to help stabilize the vaccine to allow it to absorb better. I followed up three weeks later with a second dose, exactly the same, then waited four weeks and gave them the challenge virus.