Graham's Resolution Trilogy Bundle: Books 1-3

by A. R. Shaw

  41 Like a Promise

  Sweat poured off Graham’s forehead as Tala mopped it with a cool, damp towel. It had been a long night for the both of them. Once again, Macy arrived with a pail full of clean snow.

  Tala smiled at her. “That should be enough for now.”

  “Is he going to be okay?” Macy sounded scared. The hand she placed on Tala’s shoulder had a tremor.

  Tala gave her a reassuring pat on the arm. “Yes, I think so. He’s over the worst part. The meds are kicking in now. So, you go get some sleep for now. I’ll need you to take over for me in the morning.”

  Macy walked away quietly and climbed into her bunk with Sheriff by her side. She gazed over at McCann, sleeping with his hat over his eyes. He snored, finally getting the sleep he’d needed for so long. As her own eyes closed, she prayed to God that Graham would pull through. She was afraid to go on without him. He had become more to her than even her own father had ever been, though Graham was much younger than her own dad. They all needed him in their lives—even McCann, though he wasn’t aware of it yet.

  ~ ~ ~

  Tala held Graham’s hand while she sat by his side. She glanced around the room where they now had no beds to spare. Everyone was in a state of sleep or dreaming, and she would stay up through the night for them. Graham’s fever had broken, and she now waited to see if he might wake up and open his eyes or ask for water.

  As soon as the preppers had left the day before, Tala and McCann had put Graham back to bed. His fever spiked again. The few times he was conscious, they hadn’t spoken about his trip into town. She searched his pockets for Ennis’s meds and found them along with the others. She gave the pain meds to Ennis, and then set the others on Graham’s side table. He’d see them when he was well again, and then they’d have the necessary discussion.

  Soon, though, Tala had to watch in horror as Addy fought the first signs of the virus they all recognized from past loved ones lost. She held her hand over the new life that grew within her, having second thoughts about Graham’s wishes. Would it be kinder to terminate this child?

  Tala stared off into space across the light of the lamp on the radio table. They had come so far, living in the ways of the past. No one knew about tomorrow yet; no one had time to worry about it. They were all too busy relearning the lore of yesterday in order to survive.

  “Tala,” Graham said, startling her. “Where’s my jacket?”

  “I . . . put it away.”

  “And the pills from the pockets?” he asked, his voice low.

  She wasn’t ready for this. She feared seeing Addy fight the virus, a battle Tala was pretty sure Addy would lose despite Clarisse’s vaccine. Would she still have the strength to argue with him when he asked her to take the pills that would destroy her unborn baby?

  Tala shifted her glance to the box on the tableside.

  He stared at her deeply while she retrieved what he wanted her to take. He held his hand out for the box and turned the foil packs out into his hand. He began popping the pills out one by one into his hand, creating a mini pyramid. He reached for her hand, dropped them all in and closed her fingers over them. He gazed at her and reached up a hand to brush away the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Get rid of these,” he whispered.

  She saw fear in his eyes, but a resolve too. She said nothing, only nodded, and went to the woodstove, where she tossed the handful within. She went back to Graham, and he reached for her hand once more and pulled her to him on the bunk. “We’ll give life a chance,” he said, and then kissed her.

  Tala placed her head on his chest to listen to his heartbeat as he held her and stroked her long hair by candlelight. He wiped her tears away again, and laid his hand over the place where the new life grew within her like a promise.

  42 Dawn

  As daylight broke, Graham inched away from Tala on the single bed they’d somehow managed to share during the night. He gazed down at her sleeping peacefully, knowing the child she carried was their creation. He marveled at the mercies he had somehow managed to attain when so many had lost everything.

  As he hobbled on his one good leg while buttoning his shirt for the day, he looked around at the growing residents of Graham’s camp. They were over capacity now, and he wanted to check on the two that were on his mind the most: Addy and Ennis.

  After he made his way over to the living room and checked the child’s forehead for fever, he stood shaking his head. Her little lungs labored and it seemed she would only become closer to losing the battle as the day went on. Graham thought she might have two, maybe three days left. He couldn’t help but gauge these things after having cared for so many before and losing those he loved. Her one free hand lay open; even while she fought for breath, she looked like a small, accepting angel.

  Sam, of course, held her other hand tucked in his larger one as he slept by her. His other hand held that of the little boy who had pulled her from an icy death, only to suffer the guilt of sealing her fate through his heroism.

  The whole situation sucked, and Graham suspected that when the girl passed, Bang would need saving too. Graham rubbed the boy’s head lightly and went to see his old friend Ennis, who’d wandered into the living room and sat in his chair at some point during the night. Graham placed another log gingerly into the woodstove, like so many times before, to keep the old man warm. Ennis had an arrow lying in his lap, whittled down straight with his pocketknife in his hands, and his eyes were closed.

  43 The Last Candidate

  Two days later, Graham nudged Sam. “Sam. Sam. It’s my turn to watch over her. You go get some real sleep.” Sam had only left Addy’s side once between coffee refills.

  “No, no. I’m not leaving her.”

  “You’re exhausted. Please, go lie down on my bunk just for an hour or two. I swear I’ll wake you up if anything changes,” Graham promised.

  “No.” Exhaustion slurred Sam’s words. “I’ll stay’n sleep ’side her. You . . . keep watch. Okay?”

  Graham conceded, and brought him a pillow and blanket so Sam might at least fall asleep in a little more comfort. Graham eased himself into a nearby chair with the aid of a cane Ennis had fashioned from a sturdy branch.

  Now they held vigil together over the dying child. It had been touch and go many times. They’d even put tubes down her throat to keep her airway open. Clarisse had been back and forth each day, with McCann escorting her on horseback. They’d brought one of the bunks into the living room for Addy, pushing furniture aside to make room.

  Clarisse said that while Addy’s treacherous fever had begun to come down, she’d slipped into some kind of coma. As she tried to explain it to them, Addy’s body had been ravaged by the virus, and Clarisse theorized that the vaccine, and whatever immunity she might have inherited from Sam, could be waging a war inside her. It would take a toll, though in what form was anyone’s guess. At worst, Clarisse explained through tears, Addy might sustain severe brain damage. At best, she would have a very long recovery and, possibly, come through physically crippled. Only time would tell.

  ~ ~ ~

  The night before, Graham had finally managed to get Clarisse to take a break, and McCann had taken her back to Dalton. She was so tired when they arrived, she hadn’t the energy to move. Dalton met McCann at the river bend and slid Clarisse’s nearly unconscious form into his own arms. Then, instead of taking her to her tent, he’d carried her into his new quarters where he laid her down on his own bed so he could at least keep her safe in her sleep. He’d lost interest in what the others in camp might think of the arrangement.

  The prepper camp was back to functioning fully after Reuben and Rick had retrieved the contingency supply trucks and set everything up again. They buried their dead and, after the loss of their spring seedlings, were scrambling to start fresh as the snow finally began to melt and it was clear spring was setting in.

  Somehow Graham had fallen asleep in his vigil during the night. Ennis sat in the opposite chair sleeping while he held the li
ttle girl’s hand. Graham grunted as he got up and went to the window, opening the curtains. The room was bathed in a spring sunrise, and it lessened the sense of doom they’d all been under for so long.

  He stared out the open window as the birds chirped and sang their songs while flitting between the trees. He glanced behind him at Addy, whose labored breathing he didn’t hear any longer.

  “Oh, no,” he whispered with sudden dread. He went to her side, afraid to touch her again. He reached out his hand once and stopped, then decided he had to know. He touched her neck and felt warmth. She fluttered her eyes open, and the sweetest thing Graham had ever witnessed happened before him. She smiled.

  “Sam! Sam, wake up!” Graham bumped his sleeping form but refused to take his eyes off Addy.

  “What?” Sam said, jerking up, eyes wide with apprehension.

  Graham nodded his head toward the child. “Someone wants to see you.”

  Sam leapt to her side. “Addy? Baby?” Sam whispered hoarsely.

  “Daddy!” Addy said.

  Sam dissolved into tearful gratitude.

  Soon laughter and cheers rang throughout the cabin. Tala and the others ran into the living room to finally witness some small victory over the China Pandemic.

  While jubilation held everyone in its joyful thrall, Graham noticed an odd stillness in Ennis’s body. He made his way around Addy’s bed and lowered himself beside the old man’s chair. “Ennis,” he said. “Oh, Ennis.”

  Macy noticed. She gasped, “Oh no!” and joined him.

  Graham didn’t have to check Ennis’s pulse. He knew the peaceful look of death, but he picked up Ennis’s wrist to be sure. “Damn, Ennis, you didn’t even say good-bye.” Graham cried and held the old man’s body to him. Graham couldn’t hold back the sob rising high in his chest, emerging on a harsh utterance of the old man’s name.

  Macy moaned, “No! Not yet!”

  44 The Birth of Spring

  One month later, spring bloomed in full. The welcome sun shone and wildflowers blossomed. Though it was still cold enough for jackets, the members of Graham’s camp shed their winter coats to make the journey across the new footbridge built over the Skagit River into prepper territory.

  Dalton and Clarisse, who no longer wore their biohazard suits, greeted them. “Hey, I never thought this would happen. Did you?” Graham asked as he shook Dalton’s bare hand. “You’re sure it’s okay?”

  “Yes, yes,” Clarisse responded to the question. “I’ve tested everyone twice. We’re no longer susceptible to the virus.” She held out her arms when she saw Addy coming across the bridge.

  Addy broke into a run when she caught sight of her. Clarisse hugged her tightly and, when she pulled away, finally she smiled at the girl and held up her hand to sign, i love you, then touched the top of Addy’s nose, making her smile. Addy signed the sentiment back, her little fingers forming the words. She’d survived the virus, but without her hearing, which everyone thought a small price to pay for her life. Clarisse had given them some hope that the hearing might return someday, but they had all begun to learn sign language anyway.

  Tala presented the wagon full of vegetable starts that Bang had pulled the long distance for them. It was their gift to the preppers who had lost their starts in the fire, along with precious lives.

  “Thank you,” Dalton said.

  Mark made his way through the crowd to greet his cousin. Dalton hugged him for the first time since before the China Pandemic had hit. Mark was nearly as tall, and he was filling in fast and would pass Dalton up soon.

  Bang hung back, shyly, and Graham pulled him along using the excuse he needed assistance with his cane. Macy pulled McCann along, because he still wasn’t terribly trusting of these new people and wanted to have a running start and enough time to get Macy out of there fast if the need arose.

  The whole group stood and talked with Dalton and Clarisse for a few minutes before Dalton began to lead the way to their camp where an enticing aroma awaited them. Sam held a backpack over his shoulder because this would be a one-way trip for him and Addy, though they were always welcome at Graham’s camp. Sam wanted Addy to be able to visit with Clarisse whenever she wanted to; their relationship had become one of mother and daughter, and Sam was grateful for that. He would never deny his daughter a chance at a second mother, especially one who had risked her own life to save Addy’s.

  Once they reached the inner compound, they were greeted by the entire prepper community. Rick held out his arms and yelled, “Twin Two!”

  “Macy!” she huffed, and walked over to him to shake his hand, but he would not have it. He hugged her instead, and she shook her head with an embarrassed grin. Tala had made a cake, a rare treat for the twins’ sixteenth birthday.

  After their celebratory meal of barbecue turkey and dressing made with wild green onions and canned yams, sans the marshmallows, they sang “Happy Birthday” to the twins and toasted their many achievements, which were great, and paid homage to their lost ones, those they would always remember.

  Together, the twins cut the cake into over thirty tiny portions.

  It was the best cake any of them could ever remember.

  ~ ~ ~

  The Last Infidels

  ~ ~ ~

  Chapter 1 Dutch’s Caravan

  Dutch felt eyes upon them and could almost smell the mares’ fear; the wild dogs had tracked them through the night. After the long march across the state to silently escape from the invaders, to be exposed now by dogs seemed cruel, even for fate.

  He raised his hand slowly to signal the driver of the truck behind him to stop, then clenched his fist to have her cut the engine. While he held the reins a whisper’s breath away from the hide of the mares pulling the wagon, Dutch slid his Remington 870 shotgun across his lap with slow stealth. In anticipation of the wild beasts, he had loaded it earlier with a combo load of two number 1 buckshot, followed by two double-ought and then two slugs, for a total of six shots. Practice taught him that loading his weapon in this way allowed extra insurance in case something just kept coming at him. If that did not work, he had other options at his disposal and within reach.

  Intent on hearing even the faintest of danger signs, he leaned forward on the bench seat of the wagon and tilted his head to the best angle. Shutting his eyes in concentration furthered the conscious effort. He had ridden without care before the dark descended; the wild dogs’ howling had already warned him of their carnivorous intentions come nightfall. Their glowing eyes shone through the darkening forest at regular intervals as the day lengthened into dusk.

  The time to start a fire and make camp had passed, and the steady cadence of the five-ton US Army truck and trailer, loaded down with provisions, rang out as it trailed the little convoy to the outskirts of Cascade. The provisions were intended for a new homestead, Dutch’s mission now. He led in a wagon burdened much like the truck. Two lineback horses who were acutely aware of the present danger pulled the wagon.

  The young woman driving the truck behind him had come in handy, but if it had not been for the need to drive both vehicles, Dutch would have kicked her out near the Coulee Dam on State Route 20. He was not only afraid of being tracked by the invaders but also grew worried that he was beginning to feel responsible for the safety of the woman who was a mere child in age compared to him. In his mind, the liability she posed could mean the death of both of them, and he wanted no charges now or ever again.

  He planned to send her away at his earliest convenience. She’ll have to take care of herself, Dutch kept telling the nagging voice deep within his mind. At almost fifty years of age, she appeared to be in her early twenties and needed no protector, especially not someone like him who was nearly fifty. Babysitting a whiny twenty-something—particularly in a survival situation—held not a shred of appeal to him.

  Not that she was whiny, really; on the contrary, she irritated him because she did not talk. Hell, from the moment they’d met around Saint Maries, south of Coeur d’Alene, Id
aho, four days earlier, she’d nearly driven him mad with her silence. Unfortunately, he had little choice but to let her tag along, since he had not run across another living soul all the way here. She was a good worker, he’d give her that. He would allow her to stick around for a few more days until she got her bearings, and he hoped that the current residents of Cascade would take her in after he warned them of the coming danger. He intended to fill a backpack for her, give her one of the mares tied to the back of the wagon for payment, and send her on her way.

  The real reason he had dared take her along at all was that he knew the reality if he’d left her behind: she would have succumbed to the invaders. Since they had already entered the country, he suspected they would, by now, be hunting along Interstate 90 and taking inventory of their newly conquered land.

  The invaders had simple rules, really—either join their ranks or die. They didn’t bother wasting ammunition; they did the deed with brutal sincerity, using their bare hands or the blade of hatchet, knife, or sword. To kill this way was their animalistic preference. It was the same way they handled things in their own countries. Ammo they saved for hunting; slaughtering by blade was their choice for infidels and nonbelievers. They were the boots on the ground . . . only this time, it was American soil they tread upon.

  China was merely the provider of the weapon, and double-crossing China wasn’t difficult for them. The Chinese had the weaponized version of the virus under coolant in their labs already, so it was merely a matter of money and information to complete the exchange. What China didn’t take into consideration was the need to deflect blame. Purposely exposing the Chinese for developing the virus was only fitting; it ensured that the world saw them as the only possible culprit in the death of hundreds of thousands.