Graham's Resolution Trilogy Bundle: Books 1-3

by A. R. Shaw

  “I have some experience in doing just that, in a faraway desert land,” Dalton said.

  “Hell, I’m sure you do,” Dutch said, then added, “but we didn’t have much in the way of trees and foliage to work with then; it was mostly rocks and sand . . . endless sand.”

  “That’s an advantage we have here. They get cold there in Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan—hell, wherever they crawled out from under—but they don’t have trees and coverage the way we do. That’s probably why they waited for spring. They couldn’t handle the temps up here over the winter,” Dalton speculated.

  “Damn, it gets cold at night. I remember that,” Steven said and then paused. “They’ve probably been here for a lot longer than we thought. Florida, Texas, I bet they’re just getting to us now.”

  They were all quiet after that statement—too quiet. McCann wasn’t sure what was worse, having them talk doom and gloom or this silence. They didn’t really know what they’d find, but they all suspected it would be a nightmare. They kept going, speeding down the debris-strewn roads, heading south. Occasionally they avoided some obstacle in the street, passing through ghost towns. McCann remembered how eerie it had been when he’d seen these ghost towns last winter on horseback; now it was even worse. Since then the snowpack had collapsed several roofs. Fires had broken out and burned part of one town to the ground, with only black sticks marking the graves of the buildings.

  “McCann, when you came to town last winter, did you travel as the crow flies, or did you follow the roadway?” Sam asked him.

  McCann thought Sam already knew the answer to the question before he asked it, but he was trying to make conversation. “It would be too hard on the horses’ hooves to make a road trip that long, and it took longer than I thought it would with all the snow. I rode the crow line south. I cut several days off that way, but it was still a foolhardy trip. I should have waited, but I had to get out of Carnation. It was too quiet.” A chill ran up his spine, remembering how he’d come halfway before realizing that leaving in winter was a mistake. He’d almost frozen to death as the winds whipped at him, stealing his breath, freezing his eyelids shut, and making him so sleepy he didn’t care when the reaper came. It was hard now to imagine how he’d survived it. He didn’t remember parts of the trip at all.

  “A trip like that’ll make a man out of you,” Sam said.

  “Yeah, I think it did,” McCann agreed.

  Chapter 24 In the Garden

  Tala sat on a soft blanket spread over the damp ground, resting in the shade of a generous pine tree. The cold damp had finally given way to warmth enough for bare arms and short sleeves to work at weeding the spring garden. They weeded daily now, but even that didn’t seem often enough; spring weed sprouts threatened to strangle the life out of their precious new vegetable starts.

  “Well, if you’re going to sit there, you have to at least tell us stories while we work,” Mark said.

  Knowing he was only kidding with her, Tala said, “You got it. If that’s the price to pay for a break, I’m all for it.” She was full of tales told by her American Indian grandparents; she retold them because they reminded her of the old ways—the way things used to be and seemed now to be again.

  Sometimes she’d recall them when she needed to remind them of a life lesson. Sometimes, they just came to her for no particular reason she could think of, stories just begging to be retold.

  Tala watched as Mark, Marcy, and Bang bent and pulled at the stubborn weeds. It was a necessity that they work each day like this; it was time again for children to labor as workers, and she felt that chores really were the best way to bring children up in the world. Idleness never benefitted anyone. In the past kids had always needed and wanted to work, to help their elders, but for some reason those lessons had been lost in the now-departed modern world. She hoped they would remember this lore, these stories—now and in the future.

  As she tried to think of a story, something nagged at Tala’s subconscious and she took stock of her new family. Graham was safe at the prepper camp helping Rick, and she expected Clarisse to show up soon with Addy and the new one, Lucy. She wasn’t sure what bothered her, and she rubbed her backside knowing she’d pushed herself too much lately with work.

  She pushed away the annoyance of the unnamed thing and reached into her mind to select a story from the bevy in her memory bank. Having McCann away on the scouting trip weighed on them all, but he was a grown man and Tala knew he could look out for himself. She sensed no tragedy there to befall him, but she could be mistaken. She hoped not, for all their sakes—especially Macy’s. She sighed, leaning against the tree trunk with her belly resting on her lap, looking at the others working, bent over or squatted down. Bees buzzed by them without malice on their mission. She watched as Mark’s rifle slung over his back had slid down to his side and dangled from the strap, getting into his way. It was cumbersome work, weeding with a rifle, but it was a necessary precaution. Marcy passed him and silently nudged his rifle over to his backside again. Tala knew they carried a love for one another. It was something she and Graham also shared. Those two are meant for one another, she thought. Mark’s presence in Marcy’s life calmed her flighty spirit somehow.

  “Did I ever tell you guys about how Bear got his claws?”

  “No. I don’t remember that one,” Bang said, squatting down to plunge his little fingers into the earth in earnest on either side of a determined dandelion root. He used a screwdriver after he made some headway to work farther down the root, creating a free channel to help extract the thing in its entirety.

  “Good. Okay, so, there once was a time when Bear lived side by side with Man, much like a tame dog does today. Only Bear also advised man and sat with him on wise councils and hunted, played music, and walked beside Man in life every day. Then one day a young warrior claimed that Bear had killed another man on a hunting trip. What had really happened was that the warrior had killed the other man so that he could claim his wife, but he blamed the murder on Bear.

  “The father of the young man was the chief of the tribe, and he believed his son. The great council came together and Bear defended his kind, but it was no use. Man stood against Bear and ordered the death of the accused.

  “When Man came to carry out the sentence, Bear resisted and bared his fangs at Man. Man tried to speak with reason that justice must be carried out, but Bear said, ‘Your justice is of your own making. If you carry out your justice, Bear will forever hunt the evil of your kind and shall never shake Man’s hand again, and instead rip you limb from limb.’ Man ignored Bear’s warning and carried out the wrongful death sentence. Bear then left Man’s side, and from that day forward Bear grew claws and never did shake Man’s hand again. Instead, Man now fears bear— especially if he’s an evil Man.”

  Tala looked up and saw that they had all stopped what they were doing and stared at her, mouths agape. A moment passed in silence.

  “You’re supposed to tell nice stories,” Bang said.

  Mark and Marcy laughed.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Bang. It’s just an Indian legend,” Tala said, then saw movement beyond them through the wire gating surrounding the garden. Clarisse and two others walked their way.

  “They’re here,” Tala said, bracing herself against the tree to stand up. She waved at them and, as they approached, Tala noticed how Bang moved behind Mark when he saw Addy. Tala knew this was going to be a challenge, but thought the best thing to do was let the transition happen naturally.

  “Hi, you’re not working too hard, are you?” Clarisse asked her.

  “No, I was just taking a break and telling stories. I guess the last one was a little scary.”

  “I’ll say,” Mark said. “I’m going to have nightmares now. Man betrays Bear. Bear grows claws and kills evil men from then into eternity. Nice one!”

  Marcy shoved him and giggled.

  Tala huffed. “I don’t know why that one came to me. It is pretty scary.”

  “Well, let’s get to w
ork. You guys stopped about there?” Clarisse said, pointing to the area still embedded with weeds.

  Tala caught Clarisse’s eye, knowing she had picked up on Bang’s tension as well. They’d both agreed earlier to expose the two to one another often enough to help Bang get over his guilt and his fear of Addy.

  Tala handed the newcomers their own buckets, and they all began again while Tala stood watch and offered the others water that they’d brought with them that morning.

  “Are you getting along okay, Lucy?” Tala asked her to make her feel a part of the group.

  “Oh, yes,” Lucy smiled. “Everyone has been very nice. I’m going to be working in the kitchen now with Rick’s wife Olivia and helping Clarisse out in the infirmary. I’ll get to see everyone a few times a day, and I’m so thankful to be around people again. And Olivia doesn’t seem to be upset with me for hurting her husband.”

  “We all understand, Lucy,” Tala said with compassion. That comment seemed to ease Lucy’s fears, and she went back to work among the others.

  After another hour of occasional conversation, Tala watched as the sun rose to midday, and she called it quits. The crew packed up their buckets and tossed the weeds into the forest to rot on the pine floor. They stood back and surveyed the garden with hope. The tender young greens were thriving now; everything they’d worked for over the winter was now coming to fruition. Before they headed in, they picked enough early salad leaves and radishes for the evening meal.

  “I can’t wait for carrots,” Marcy said in longing.

  “Green beans,” Mark nodded.

  “No, it’s the tomatoes I’m waiting for. I can smell them from here,” Clarisse said.

  Tala noticed Bang pull away, and she realized Addy wasn’t privy to the conversation around her. She watched as Bang stopped in front of Addy and awkwardly signed the question as to which crop she most looked forward to.

  She signed strawberries with a shy smile.

  Bang agreed. Red, juicy strawberries would be the best of all.

  Chapter 25 Anticipation

  They’d decided the night before to head west to Interstate 5. Dutch figured the invaders were sticking to the major highways and would eventually make their way inland. For now, he’d bet they’d go for securing major cities via main highways and then move inland.

  This technique made sense to Dalton tactically, so their plan of action was to see just how close the invaders were to their homestead. That meant traveling west through the little towns of Concrete, Hamilton, and Lyman near Sedro Woolley, along State Highway 20. It flanked a hair north of the Skagit River until it reached Burlington, where it blossomed into little cities. There Highway 20 met Interstate 5, which ran south to Seattle and all the way to Los Angeles.

  If he were the invaders, Dalton would make sure to secure the port of Bellingham and work his way down. “They’re too damn close,” had been his conclusion the night before when they studied the map. “It’s only fifty miles away to Burlington.”

  “If they wanted to, they could be at our camp in little more than an hour,” was Sam’s response.

  “Well, don’t do anything to attract their attention,” Rick had warned them all in jest.

  “We won’t,” answered Dalton. “We’ll go take a look and see if they’re that far up and then go as far south as we need to. Hopefully we won’t see any sign of them.”

  “You guys have an exit strategy from camp? Just in case?” Dutch had asked.

  “Yeah. Pick forest service and back roads through these mountains north of us and deport into Canada,” Steven said, pointing at the map.

  But Dutch had disagreed. “Again, man, these guys don’t recognize borders. There’s no asylum up there.”

  “No, but there’s Mount Baker, and this is our terrain. We know these mountains better than them. That’s our advantage. There are still places in here no man has ever seen. We could hide our whole village for a lifetime in there; no one would ever find us,” Sam had said.

  “We’re not leaving to give up our land if I have anything to say about it,” Dalton chimed in, causing an end to the conversation. “Let’s call it a night.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Thinking back on the previous night’s meeting, Dutch regarded Sam; he wasn’t like the rest, and Dutch was now beginning to see why they valued his input; Sam knew things, useful things. More and more, Dutch was beginning to like these people.

  This morning they’d traveled slowly through the little town of Concrete. Debris was scattered over every inch, and the secondary dam that had blocked part of an inlet creek feeding into the Skagit River rushed out of control with the spring thaw, threatening the roadway. But there was nothing else to see other than how the animals had taken over, reclaiming the grounds for their own. An entire herd of deer hung out at the corner of Superior Avenue and the Cascade Loop, where a truck stop and restaurant stood. Some of the animals got up and moved out of the roadway, but others were more inclined to let Dalton maneuver around them.

  “These herds are growing like crazy,” Steven said.

  “More territory,” McCann put in.

  “Yeah, now that the plague of man is gone, wildlife will fill in the gaps,” Sam said.

  “You think there’s anything here worth stopping for?” Steven asked.

  “Nah, it looks like it’s been hit pretty hard, and we need to focus on the mission instead of resources this time. Let’s get in, get the data, and get out,” Dalton said as he steered around a random tractor tire abandoned in the middle of the road.

  McCann looked around for the tractor that had lost the tire. “Don’t know where the hell that came from.”

  “Nothing makes sense in this world anymore; don’t even try,” Steven advised the younger man.

  “That’s for sure,” McCann said.

  They’d just passed Lyman, and Dalton felt tension rise inside the Jeep’s cabin the closer they got to their destination. There was no more idle chatter in the backseat. They were all on alert and watching for clues. Another twenty minutes and he expected to see more than merely random tires in the road, garbage strewn by Mother Nature, and forest animals foraging on the leftovers of humankind.

  As they neared Burlington, more and more relics of civilization appeared. They slowed down to a crawl, weaving in and out of parked cars and remnants of storm debris mangled on the highway, but nothing yet looked like recent human activity. What remained was more a collective randomness that reminded them of the massive loss of civilization. By the time they got to where Highway 20 turned into Fairhaven Avenue and intersected South Burlington Boulevard, they stopped; the entrance was blocked completely by what appeared to be a medevac helicopter.

  “Past or present?” Dalton asked after a moment of contemplation.

  Sam leaned up to check around at the roadways. “Past,” he said after a moment’s hesitation, then leaned back into the seat.

  “How do you know?” Dutch asked out of curiosity.

  Sam leaned forward again and pointed. “See that? That’s your pilot, or part of him. He’s been picked clean and the skull's been bleached by the sun.”

  “How do you know he’s the pilot?” Dutch asked.

  “The rest of him is over there,” he pointed to the other side of the road, “in the uniform. With all the debris and dirt on the road, I can see from here that there aren’t any footprints. The cabin door’s still open and rain rot has caused the interior dyes to leach down the white siding. Anyone could throw debris around to make it look old, but not without leaving traces. This stuff hanging from the rotor blades has stained the paint underneath. It’s been there a while. There’s bird shit all over, and it’s dripped downward. That thing’s been here since the start.”

  “Think there’s still med equipment in there?” Steven asked.

  “We’re not stopping now,” Dalton said.

  “This place is creeping me out. We’re too much in the open here,” Dutch said.

  Dalton put the Jeep in reverse an
d saw a way to turn left through a store parking lot to bypass the intersection altogether. Once they made the turn, they went another few blocks south parallel to Interstate 5 and squeezed between several cars. Dalton focused on the route in front of him. “Keep your eyes peeled for any movement,” he said to the crew.

  They had just approached West Fairhaven Avenue on South Burlington Boulevard; West Fairhaven led to the west through two blocks of neighborhood and disappeared under Interstate 5. There was a clear view of the highway from their vantage point before they crossed over to the other side.

  “Guy, three o’clock,” Sam said dryly and, for a split second, Dalton thought Sam joked. Then he remembered Sam didn’t joke—ever.

  He turned his head to the right just in time to see a form standing by a military Humvee on the overpass of Interstate 5 in the middle of town, pointing a rifle at them.

  “Fuuuck me! Those bastards!” Steven said.

  “Back up, back up, back up!” Dutch shouted. “Movement on the lower left. Cover!”

  As soon as Dalton heard the warning, he threw the Jeep into reverse and the first few pings snipped past their location. They’d been seen, and there was nothing immediate to take cover behind. The nearest building was a towing company, and the building itself was covered in corrugated metal. A barrage of bullets cascaded onto the tin roof, emitting a noise like nothing they’d heard in a very long time, and then far away.

  The abandoned helicopter remained in their escape path. Dalton swung the Jeep into drive and raced back the way they’d come, through the parking lot of the shopping center, back through town, and turned right on Spruce Street right behind an office building before he stopped.

  “Was it just one guy?” Dalton asked. His heart beat out of his chest and he found himself automatically using his old tricks from his military days to calm his pulse down.

  “No, there were at least three shooters,” Dutch said.