Liberation (Human Extinction Level Loss Book 3)

by Philip McClimon

  As he ran toward the shuffler, he dropped the wooden handles to waist level. Not slowing his pace, he caught the shuffler’s neck with the rope, crossed his arms, and pulled tight. The slack went out and the rope tightened around the thing’s neck. Jacob’s velocity slowed under the new weight and he dragged the shuffler from the street. When he got to the flower shop, he dived into the shadows through the ruined display window, dragging the shuffler with him. The two crashed to the floor and Jacob lay still, using every ounce of his strength to keep the rope tight around the thing’s neck. The shuffler did not try to pull the rope free, did not suffer the asphyxiating effects of Jacob’s garrote. It struggled all the same, sensing that what held it fast could be eaten.

  Beneath his helmet, beads of perspiration ran down Jacob’s face and into his eyes. The strain in his arms began to burn as he kept the tension on the rope. He had to wait, wait for seconds, wait for them to stretch into minutes as the horde passed by in the street. He doubted he could wait for them all to go, but every one that passed was one less that might be alerted, one less that might alert the others. With his head up, Jacob lay on his back and stared through his face shield to the display area of the flower shop. Gradually, the horde thinned until they passed by in widely spaced singles. He moved his left hand down the rope where the ends crossed at the base of the shuffler’s head. He held the rope tight and reached into his jacket for the Ruger. He placed the silenced pistol to the side of the shuffler’s head. It struggled, hissed, tried to twist its head around. With gnashing teeth, it tried to satisfy its hunger, its eyes rolling around in its gory head.

  Jacob hesitated. It was not a thing he was dispatching, this had been a man, a father, a fellow officer of the law. In his own dealings he looked into their faces, remembered them and then liberated them. Jacob brought his feet up and loosened his grip. Withdrawing the rope, Jacob kicked away the thing that was Officer Mark Sanders. Jacob rolled backwards to a standing position and readied his pistol. Across from him the thing that was Tommy’s father fell back, then tried to stand. Jacob waited for it to gain its feet. When it did, it looked around, then settled its hungry gaze on Jacob. Jacob raised his face shield and looked the thing in the face. The two locked eyes and there was a pause. For the space of a second, Jacob saw Officer Mark Sanders standing before him as he was, then the image was gone and the shuffler charged him. When the distance between them was cut to half, Jacob fired. Two whispers of the Mark I put the shuffler down.

  Mark Sanders was free.

  Sixteen

  Beverly raised the binoculars and checked the tracks into Centerville. She was obsessing and she knew it, but everything hinged on seeing Jacob Miller walking back down those tracks towards them. It had been hours and now dark was threatening. How long did she wait? How long before it was obvious he wasn’t coming back? How long before leaving was the only choice they had left? These questions plagued her mind, but each time she moved herself to answer that question, she looked at Tommy. He was unmoved. When Jacob had left, Tommy had gone to the Cherokee. He sat on the hood and stared down those same tracks. It didn’t matter what might be obvious to her. Until it was settled in his mind, they would stay. She felt deep within herself that to try and make him leave before he was ready would tear a rift between them that might never close. And so she lowered the binoculars and took a seat on the hood of the Cherokee next to her son.

  Jacob sat in the back corner of the ruined flower shop and waited. Outside in the street, the last of the horde passed in twos and threes. Even if he could make it out and back to Beverly and Tommy, with the light fading and the darkness coming on fast, he couldn’t risk an encounter with the Dead. So he sat with his back to the wall and stared through the helmet’s visor out into the street as they passed. He did something he hadn’t done in a long time, he prayed he wouldn’t see someone he once knew in their ruined faces.

  Tommy had wanted to, but he just couldn’t. Finally, Beverly had given him a reprieve, promising that at the first sign of Jacob’s return, she would wake him. Tommy lay on the hood of the Cherokee with his head in his mother’s lap. Beverly fought sleep, resolved to not fail her son, promising to be ready when the time came. It had not been easy staying awake, but it wasn’t the lack of sleep that troubled her the most. Her thoughts swirled around in her mind, nipped and bit at her like a pack of wolves testing the weakness of their prey. She thought of Gary and the substation, and his loss drew first blood. She thought of the journey she, Mark, and Tommy had undertaken to try to get to Colorado. When her thoughts fell to Mark, alone in the tunnel, fighting for their lives so that they could flee, the hungry wolf that was her misery delivered a mortal wound. Now here she was waiting for an outcome she knew was certain. Another would fall so that she could continue to have a chance at a life. How many, and how high a cost would have to be paid before she got to a place that offered a chance? She bit down hard and fought her emotions, vowing that her son would not be the next to sacrifice himself for her. Regardless of what lie ahead of them, her son would live, would have a future. She reached down and stroked her son’s hair, brushing it from his face. Not wanting to wake him, she clutched the binoculars and scanned the tracks to Centerville.

  There was movement and Beverly blinked. She took a breath and felt the fear rise in her throat. There was a second of time that stretched into what felt like hours before she gasped in relief. Without wanting them to come, tears burst from her eyes as she lowered the binoculars and woke her son.

  “Tommy! Wake up! Jacob! He’s back!”

  Tommy jumped from the hood of the Cherokee and ran to the edge of the rails and stared down the tracks. He watched as Jacob Miller walked toward them. In his hands he carried a cardboard box. Tommy turned back to his mother with eyes full of hope and sadness. Beverly slid off the hood and stood next to her son as Jacob made his way towards them. When he was close, he stopped and looked down at Tommy. Tommy could not meet his gaze, his head hung low and he stared at his feet. He tried to be a man, but didn’t know how. Jacob raised the visor on his helmet and looked at Tommy with kinder eyes than Beverly thought him capable of. He slowly offered Tommy the box.

  “When you are ready, open the box,” Jacob said.

  Tommy raised his head and looked at the plain cardboard box in Jacob’s unwavering hands before reaching out and taking it from him.

  “When you are ready,” Jacob said again.

  He turned to Beverly and with no animosity in his voice asked for his keys back. Beverly handed the keys to him and Jacob walked to the Cherokee, took off his helmet and climbed behind the wheel. Beverly put her arm around Tommy and together they got in. Jacob started the engine and drove away.

  Beverly sat next to her son in the back seat. Every few moments she would glance down at him to see if he was okay. Tommy was unresponsive. For several hours he sat beside his mother and stared at the box in his lap. Another hour and another sixty mile markers passed before Tommy reached up with both hands and pried open the flaps on top of the box. Beverly looked over, desperate to see, but not wanting to intrude. Inside was a case of Febreeze Cranberry Cider scented spray. Beverly looked in surprise from the case of cans to Jacob. Jacob did not take his eyes from the road. As Beverly looked back at her son, Tommy pulled an item from the box, wrapped in paper. He slowly unwrapped it to reveal a policeman’s badge, the number 1701 across the bottom. With tear filled eyes Tommy looked to his mother. Beverly moved to hold her son, but resisted.

  “It’s Dad’s,” Tommy said.

  Tommy caressed the numbers, then looked to his mother.

  “Will you put it on me, mom?” he said.

  Beverly’s tears flowed as she nodded her head and pinned the badge to the front of Tommy’s shirt. Tommy stared at it for several seconds, then looked again into the box. Inside was a black pen and the sheet from Jacob’s ledger. Tommy reached in and took out the pen. Resting the paper on the box, Tommy drew a single line through the only name on the page.

  O
fficer Mark Sanders My Dad

  In the front seat, Jacob looked in the rear view mirror and watched Tommy.

  Tommy gingerly folded the paper and clipped the pen to it, holding the folds securely.

  “Do you want me to keep that safe for you, Tommy?” Beverly asked.

  Tommy nodded and reverently passed the paper to his mother. As another mile marker flew by, Tommy stared out his window.

  Jacob turned his eyes back to the road and took the exit for the Westbound lanes of the I-70.

  Epilogue

  Jacob drove out of the darkness and into the light. He wasn’t prepared for what he saw. He had driven all night and now the morning sun rose behind him. In the rear of the Cherokee, Beverly and Tommy lay sleeping. Jacob eased his foot on the brakes and the Cherokee came to a rolling stop. He gripped the steering wheel tight and stared down the road ahead, the idle of the Jeep’s engine the only sound.

  Presently, the absence of the rhythm of the road brought Beverly awake. She looked around and saw Jacob staring out the windshield.

  “What’s the matter,” she said, apprehension bringing her fully awake.

  “We’re here,” he said, not turning around.

  Beverly caught his meaning and leaned forward over the back seat and looked down the road. In the distance, she saw activity, human activity, movement that seemed purposeful and alive. There were booths set up that looked like they contained fresh produce. Beverly rubbed her eyes and squinted, trying to clear the image, but the vibrant colors of fresh fruits and vegetables continued to beam at her even from this distance. There was a table set up under a canopy and someone sitting at it. And there were… people, maybe a dozen or more. Some were helping set things up, others talked amongst themselves. Two figures stood near the table and one of them threw their head back in laughter. They all went about armed, but carried their weapons as almost an afterthought.

  In the Cherokee, Beverly took in a gasp and her hand went to her mouth. Tears of relief and joy ran down her cheeks and she felt almost weightless. She turned to her son and began to gently shake him awake.

  “Tommy, baby, wake up. We’re here,” she said.

  Tommy rubbed his eyes, then sat up. He clung to the bars on the back seat and looked where his mother pointed.

  As the surprise sank in, Beverly looked to Jacob, expecting him to hit the gas and drive toward the entrance in the mountain. Jacob remained motionless, staring straight ahead.

  “What’s the matter, Jacob? What are we waiting for?” she asked.

  Jacob did not respond right away, and Beverly thought maybe he didn’t hear her. She began to sense an apprehension in him and so she only waited for him to respond.

  “I can’t go any further. I… I have to get back,” he finally said.

  Beverly sat and stared at Jacob, processing his words. She nodded, then turned to her son.

  “Come on, Tommy. We’re going,” she said.

  They climbed over the seat. Beverly popped up the back window, lowered the tailgate and climbed out. Tommy grabbed his box and followed. Closing the tailgate, they made their way to the front of the Jeep. Beverly stopped and looked at Jacob.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Jacob looked at her, then nodded. Beverly shifted nervously, then fixed her eyes on the people in the distance. When she looked back at Jacob, he too was staring back down the road at the mountain.

  “You told my son to open the box when he was ready. When you’re ready, Jacob, this place will be here,” she said.

  Jacob did not respond or look at her. Beverly took Tommy’s hand and started walking toward the mountain. After a couple of steps, Tommy looked back at Jacob and up at his mom.

  “Sheriff Miller isn’t coming?” he asked.

  Beverly looked down at Tommy. “No, baby. Not right now,” she said.

  Tommy took a few more steps with his mother before he pulled his hand from hers and stopped. Beverly stopped too then and looked at her son.

  Tommy looked at Jacob a moment, then turned and walked back to the Jeep. Jacob and Tommy locked eyes, then Tommy spoke.

  “Thank you for freeing my Dad, Sheriff Miller,” Tommy said. Holding his box under his left arm, he stuck out his right hand.

  Jacob looked at Tommy’s hand, then reached his own out and shook it. A second more, then Tommy ran back to his mother, took her hand, and the two proceeded down the highway.

  Ruby sat at the welcome table, clipboard and paper in front of her. The cool morning air wafted through and she felt its invigorating caress. She looked at the faces around her, recognizing Sam, Billy, and Walt’s. She saw other faces, newcomers whose faces were not yet so familiar, but knew they would be in time. Ruby looked over at the produce stands where Walt busied himself making sure the fruits and vegetables were arranged just so.

  “That’s some good looking squash you got there, hippie!” she called.

  Walt’s head popped up and he beamed a smile at her.

  “Thank’s Momma! Nature’s bounty, you know!” he called back.

  Ruby turned back and double checked that everything was in order. Looking up, she saw two figures walking down the road towards them.

  Ruby smiled. People were coming in a few at a time, almost every day now. They were getting the message and seeking out the hope it provided.

  “People coming!” she called and all eyes turned to look down the highway.

  Beverly fought back her emotion as she held Tommy’s hand tight. She saw an elderly woman, the one sitting behind the table, waving at her. A red GTO emerged from the tunnel and parked next to a bus. A young woman got out. Beverly watched as a young man called to her.

  “Nicole! We’ve got survivors!” he shouted.

  “Coming, Sam!” she shouted back.

  Tommy looked up at his mom.

  “That’s the lady from the broadcasts,” he whispered, awe in his voice.

  “That’s right, baby. That’s Nicole,” she said, wiping away the tears as Sam and Nicole approached them at a jog. The four met in the road. There was an awkward moment as Beverly and Tommy stared at Sam and Nicole. Nicole looked over Beverly’s shoulder at the Jeep Cherokee in the distance. She shielded her eyes and saw there was a driver behind the wheel. Nicole threw up her hand and waved. Beverly and Tommy turned and the four of them watched, waiting for some acknowledgment. The Jeep sat motionless in the road for several seconds before Jacob turned the wheel and drove back the way he had come.

  Nicole, perplexed, watched the Jeep Cherokee disappear in the distance.

  “They’re leaving,” she said.

  Beverly and Tommy turned to Nicole.

  “His name is Jacob. He’s got some things to take care of first,” Beverly said.

  Nicole looked back at Beverly and Tommy and nodded. The awkwardness again passed between them. Nicole knew that any journey taken here could not have been an easy one, so she gave them a second. Finally, she did what she always did and stuck out her hand.

  “I’m Nicole Bennett. Welcome.”

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