Point of No Return: A Post Apocalyptic Dystopian Thriller (Surrender the Sun Book 3)

by A. R. Shaw

  And she wasn’t sure if anyone else had noticed, but she’d seen the full-sleeve tattoos on the guy’s arms. He tried to hide them, but they were there. He’d spent time in prison at some point. He was quiet and never left his back open to attack, and though that didn’t make him a bad man, it made her wary of him nonetheless.

  Inside, Maeve squared her shoulders. Bishop had told her that she needed to take charge. Rules of war…show strength in weakness and vice versa. When he was there, she found it natural to let him take over, but they couldn’t afford that now. She had to come out of the shadows, and that didn’t come naturally to her.

  “Maeve?”

  She turned to see Morrow walking her way. A bald man with a dark goatee, he was as tall as Bishop was, but what struck her were his light-blue eyes. They didn’t match the tattoos hidden beneath his sleeves. Even now, she saw the blue ink peeking out from under his coat along his wrist—the fine dots of a prison job well done. He must have detected her stare because he suddenly slid his sleeve down and put his arm behind his back in a sly maneuver that probably was a self-conscious habit.

  “Let’s take a head count. Just please let me know what I can do. You’re in charge, as far as I’m concerned, but anything you need…let me know.”

  “Thank you, Morrow. Like Bishop always did, let’s meet every day. Talk things through. If there’s anything you want to add or anything I don’t see, please feel free to say it.”

  His light-blue eyes looked right through her. There was no emotion upon his face. This guy was a master at guarding. Nothing was given away. No tells at all. It would take some time to figure him out. He stood before her, and she sensed that he was waiting for more, though she wasn’t sure what. Shaking her head slowly, she said, “Do you…have any other questions?”

  He smiled then—an almost imperceptible smile, only a lifting of the fine lines at the outer edges of his eyes. Then came the smile on his lips. “No. No questions yet. I’ll come to you if I have any, though.” He made a sort of bow then, just a tipping of his head.

  As if she were watching it in a slo-mo video, she noted each nuance, cataloging it for a later time. She wasn’t sure what it all meant, but something about the interaction made her take note and file it away.

  24

  Walt

  Shrill wails. Forever, the sound would be etched into his mind. Walt was certain of this fact. In what used to be quiet solitude, he would only hear her death.

  At one point, Walt found the barrel of his rifle aimed between the crystal-blue eyes of this child instead of at the black bear, but the images continued to divide and multiply. He feared that ending her misery was out of his reach. It would be a mercy. It was the only thing he could offer her now. She no longer struggled. Even in her endless screaming, she somehow seemed to know that her pain would end sooner if she just surrendered to the bear.

  Perhaps in the real world, he might be condemned. But then and there in nature’s realm, there was no other way. Ending her misery was all he could do now. “Get away!” he screamed, his voice catching even though he and the girls with rifles were still shooting at the relentless black bear that was pulling apart the child’s corpse with each shake of its head. Her arm was nearly severed. Her head was barely connected to her neck. Blood was crimson in the snow and seeping deeper into the white, icy crystals.

  At his side, Mary continued to scream, too. If only he could calm her, he would feel that he’d accomplished something.

  “No more!” he said, as the black bear rubbed its bloodied muzzle in the snow. There was a grunting and then a volley of gunfire. A roar. The bear finally collapsed upon his young victim.

  “It’s over,” Walt yelled, collapsing, and then he was startled by another sound in the woods. More shuffling. Someone, he assumed, had gathered any survivors and harbored them in Mylar huts. Darkness engulfed their relentless foe. “Stoke the fire,” he said with his last conscious breath, hoping he’d done enough and Yeager would return in time to save the rest of them. “Keep up…the fires.”

  Then darkness consumed him, too.

  Only a flicker in the distance did Yeager see. He’d heard the yelling. He’d heard the growling of the attacking animal. His own breath and heartbeat thrummed in his ears.

  “Oh my…we’ve got to get there,” Rebecca said.

  He held Rebecca back. “We’re going as fast as we can. Stay back here.”

  Yeager ran forward. Saw the bear. Saw the blood. Saw the remains of a small body beneath the black mass mauling still. It was a massacre. He ran forward. Many shots rang out in the distance, but Yeager took a knee to quiet his breath. He raised his rifle, took in air, held it to calm the thrumming in his veins, and aimed at the bear. He fired three times. The animal fell on top of its victim. He was too late to save the girl. He hoped she was the only one. By the time he walked into camp, shock was all he saw on the faces of the witnesses to this horrible attack. Walt was yelling out incomprehensible orders, the girls pulled in those closest to the victim. Walt collapsed, fell to the ground, and lost consciousness.

  Yeager saw him drop and wondered absently how the hell the man had even made it to standing in the first place. He was gravely wounded. But the children…their wails made Yeager’s soul ache.

  He ran into the group. They were a half hour’s walk away from their newfound shelter. His mind reeled. Could they make it there by nightfall? And if they didn’t, was it worth the nightmare of going through another night with the wolves and bears? He wanted nothing more than to shelter them all, to gather them all up and run. What other option did they have if they were to survive?

  25

  Jax

  “What the heck is Elmer’s Fountain?” Austin asked and then coughed. “For heaven’s sake, I’m starting to talk like you.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” Jax said.

  Austin cleared his throat as they stood there staring at a large yellow pipe sticking nearly twenty feet out of the ground like some pterodactyl-sized bird feeder. As cold as it was, a little water still trickled out of the end, cascading freely down the pipe and forming giant, ice mushroom at the base.

  “Is it some kind of underwater spring?”

  “No, that’s a marvel of human ingenuity. And it’s not pretty.”

  “Is it safe to drink?”

  “Yep, best water you’ll ever taste. Good time to replenish.”

  “Where does the water come from?”

  “From Gold Creek,” he said as he pointed toward the mountain. “Snowmelt runoff comes down a pipe. It stays unfrozen in a horizontal mining tunnel through the winter, and I’ll be damned, but it’s still running freely now. Some silver miner back in the day devised the whole thing.”

  “Elmer, I take it?” Austin asked.

  “I suppose so,” Jax said as he handed off another jug he’d filled from the trickling fountain and capped. Because of the ice sprouting out at odd angles, holding the mouth of a jug just under the trickling water took effort. “Best water you’ll ever drink,” he repeated with a wink.

  “Are we sure it’s safe?”

  He shook his head as he watched Austin smell the water in the jug. “Yes. I’m sure. Did you know that way back in the olden days, people drank water out of clean streams and such? They boiled water to disinfect it.”

  “I know, Jax. And lots of them died from dysentery, too.”

  “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. I’m not sure you do know. You’re so used to having all of your needs taken care of. How could you possibly know these things? The last several generations have no idea that beef even comes from cows.”

  Capping the jug, Austin said, “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem anymore, Jax. The next several generations are going to know such things, unfortunately. You’ll have your way. You always do.”

  Jax watched Austin walk back up the hill and away, catching his step as he went to ensure that he didn’t slide back down the hill.

  “I was just hoping
for a small apocalypse, not the whole damn thing,” Jax said under his breath. When the last jug was filled, he followed the tracks they’d made earlier. That’s when he heard a woman’s scream. “What the hell is it now?” he yelled after a beat, thinking that perhaps she’d seen a bear. As he stared up the hill for an explanation, gunfire erupted.

  Dropping the water bottles, Jax pulled his rifle from the sling on his back. From his vantage point, he couldn’t see what was happening up the hill, but whatever it was, his people were being attacked.

  Running to the tree line on the left, Jax skirted up and around the roadway, coming up behind the commotion. A man on horseback had evidently sneaked up on the first bus, Austin’s bus. Gunshots rang out in rapid succession. “This is not going to be a good day,” Jax said under his breath as he ran.

  26

  Bishop

  Bishop focused ahead into the bleak sunrise. He assumed that the sun was rising. Behind the clouds and far above the earth, there had to be bright rays somewhere. A medium-gray sky led down to charcoal on the horizon. Black as night and gray as cold steel. He felt as though he was headed farther into a world of numb abandon. Nothing he did now would turn out well. Someone would die. This, he was sure of.

  There was no way that leading these people out to save others would result in anything but more tragedy. His only obligations were Maeve and the children. He’d leave them in a heartbeat, all of the people buzzing along behind him on this mission. He’d leave them as the sun had abandoned the earth. He would leave them and save himself if only he could ensure that his new family survived. That was all that was in his heart, and that greed made him feel as cold as steel as he rode farther away from them. Ice crystals formed on his gloved hands. He barely felt the sting any longer through the thick layers. They only stopped when ice formed over their shielded helmets, making visibility impossible, despite the built-in defrosting units.

  “Bishop, I can’t see. We need to stop soon,” Alyssa said over the radio just as the thought came to mind.

  “I see cover ahead, near that embankment to the right. See it? We’ll stop there. Just a little farther.”

  Voices signaled their compliance. They were all hooked up to one radio unit, making communication easier. But he resented all of them. Resented this trip. Wanted nothing to do with this mission other than bringing people home. He cursed himself as the distance between Maeve and himself grew with every second. Yes, continuing was all he could do. In order to ensure their safety, he had to. He had to keep going. Get to the crash site. Recover what remained and get home. Which meant back to Maeve, not to the silo. Home would forever be wherever she was.

  Into the darkness, he veered right, toward a snow embankment where rocks jutted out from the ground. It was the only shelter around. The only buffer from the relentless wind that bore more snow. They’d attempt to create a shelter. Fire was doubtful; the wind too high. With food rations, packs of gear, and heat packs, they didn’t need a fire tonight. They needed sleep and rest from the constant vibration of the snowmobiles.

  “Pull over here,” he ordered. “Pull in close together. We’ll camp here tonight.” Then he took off his helmet, and like the sound of war, the sound of the blowing wind was deafening.

  “Bishop,” one of the soldiers yelled.

  When he looked where the guard pointed, he saw that Alyssa had stopped yards away. She’d dropped behind. She was scratching at her helmet’s visor.

  Bishop picked up his helmet. “Alyssa, what’s going on?”

  “I can’t see! I told you!” she wailed.

  “Why didn’t you say so?”

  “Bish—”

  “Dammit, stay there. I’m coming.” He shoved his helmet back on, restarted his unit, and left the others standing there. Once he reached her, her voice came over in jagged breaths. She was losing control, and he didn’t care. She had chosen to come on this trip. Fought for it, even. He’d never said that he’d slow their relentless pace to accommodate her. And he wouldn’t now. When he pulled up beside her, she was like a wild animal stuck in a barbed-wire fence. Instead of saying anything, he reached up, grabbed her gear, and yanked her back down onto her seat. She struggled at first. Then he rubbed hard on her visor. “Just be still,” he barked at her.

  After getting her resettled and her visor partially cleared, he said, “Just follow me, all right? It’s not far.”

  She was quiet as a mouse then. He knew she was angry. Seething, probably. Obviously, the defrost fan in her visor had failed. That was something they’d have to fix back at camp, though it would fail again and again in these conditions.

  “You should have said something earlier. You could have crashed into someone. Don’t be so damn irresponsible.”

  “Fuck you, Bishop!”

  He stopped abruptly then, and she nearly collided into the back of his unit. “Fuck me? Is that what you said?”

  Silence.

  “No, fuck you, Alyssa. I didn’t have to do this. I didn’t even want to do this,” he yelled in rage. If she could lose it, so could he.

  She sobbed into her helmet then. “I’m sorry!” she yelled.

  “To hell with this. I’m sorry for them. I am. But putting myself at risk trying to save your husband and all the rest puts my family at risk, too. Do you understand that? This world…isn’t like it used to be. This isn’t some hiking trip Walt got lost on.”

  “He wouldn’t be out there if it wasn’t for you, Bishop.”

  “And you know what? I don’t even care about that. I’m here with you now to get them back. But understand this: I don’t have to be here now. The rules have changed, and you’d better get used to it. My sense of obligation isn’t for you or him or anyone else. You endanger my life or anyone else’s, I’ll leave you here. I mean it, Alyssa. Nothing will stop me from getting back to them. Guilt sure as hell will not keep me out here.”

  She was sniffling then, and he knew that everyone who was still connected to the radio feed had heard his words. That was fine with him. They needed to know where he stood. His mission was in and out and nothing in between. “You pull this crap again, and I’ll leave you behind. I promise. No more sissy meltdowns.”

  “Fine,” she said with a low, drawn-out breath.

  Hatred. That was good. That would at least get her ass moving instead of dwelling on what they might discover out there.

  He restarted the engine, and when he tugged on her arm to get her to comply, she yanked it away from him. Inside his helmet, he smiled a little and sped forward so that she’d have to follow his lights as they dimmed in the distance. He knew he’d have to watch his back in case she sought revenge, but he would rather deal with that than with a sobbing mess anytime. Vengeance, he could deal with. Weakness would get them killed.

  27

  Walt

  “Walt.”

  He heard Yeager calling to him, but he couldn’t keep his eyes open. Feeling a vibration, Walt tried again. When his lids finally allowed the dim light in, he realized that it wasn’t just a vibration; they were moving. He was on some sort of gurney being dragged across the icy ground. It was scraping the surface with a high-pitched noise.

  “Walt, you with me?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I’m here.”

  “We’re going to the shelter.”

  Yeager was out of breath. He was struggling, his words coming in spurts. Too tired and worn out.

  “Almost…there,” Yeager said, and then Walt’s eyes closed again. Regaining consciousness was out of his reach. He couldn’t help anyone. Not even little Mary. His chest tightened as he remembered the child killed by the bear. He was useless to them all.

  “Walt. Stay with me. Walt?”

  “Walt, drink this. You need to drink something.”

  “No,” he said, but he was given no choice.

  Yeager made the effort to hold him up by his shoulders, and he figured he owed it to him to sip a little of the water.

  “Good. A little more.” Yeager sounded weak, but
his voice echoed. They were in a room. The vibration of moving had ceased. No longer moving, but still. The smell, though…filth and damp cold.

  “Where are we?”

  Yeager blew out a breath. “I’ll tell you after you take another drink. Come on, Walt. Don’t do this. Drink.”

  He did, but he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to take the supplies. “More for them if I don’t,” he said weakly.

  “Don’t even pull that crap, Walt. Take another drink or so help me, I’ll chisel an ice funnel for you.”

  Walt pondered this and believed that his friend might do that, so he took another drink when Yeager held the container to his lips.

  Afterward, Yeager helped him lie down on the cot, tucking the Mylar covers around him. “We’re in a park’s public bathroom, believe it or not. We landed somewhere around Lower Falls, in Yellowstone. Rebecca and I found this place, and then we came back to camp. We saw the end of the bear attack. I’m really sorry I wasn’t there sooner, Walt.”

  Unable to contain his emotion, Walt felt his chest tighten. He flashed on the defenseless blue-eyed girl’s look of terror as the bear mauled her. The nightmare replayed in his mind. Her endless screams.

  Walt’s breath came faster as tears welled in his eyes. “Did you bury her?”

  Nodding, Yeager said, “Yes, as best we could.”

  Walt sniffed as he watched Yeager swallow hard, his Adam’s apple retracting. Neither man could speak for a while.

  Yeager wiped his eyes.

  Taking in a deep breath, Walt said, “How…are we doing otherwise?”