“One day, a group of people came to me with children. They called themselves the Order. They were threatening to starve the children unless I made them a trade. They bartered one can of soup for each child. There were twelve of them. It was the number twelve that convinced me to take the offer; it’s the Lord’s divine number of faith. Jacob had twelve sons that became the twelve tribes of Israel; Jesus had twelve disciples—”
Mason interrupted him. “Was my daughter one of the twelve?” he asked almost hysterically.
“You said her name was Lydia?”
“I never told you her name.”
“I heard it through the window. I heard everything you said. I heard everything that guy said, who I don’t know, by the way. I’ve only seen him a few times.”
“Stay on track. Was my daughter one of them?”
“I believe she was. A little girl, seven years old at the time, with brown hair.”
“How did Haven get her?”
“Haven used to send loot parties out in search of food and useable materials. They found us and took us in.”
“What about you? Why didn’t you stay?”
“I was on track to tell you that when you asked about the fever. I saw something in Haven that scared me. It started with a traveler they took in that caught the fever. I insisted that we find a physician for the man. I joined search parties in search of a doctor, and we became desperate to the point that we would even accept a veterinarian. After some time, the scientist claimed it wasn’t a medical problem. He said it was something else. So we gave up on the search, and the man was placed in seclusion. From then on, they experimented on him.”
“You said you saw something that scared you. What was it?”
“The man died in that seclusion cell, only he came back to life. He was the first Screamer I had ever seen. That day, when I stood by the cell and watched as that man reanimated, I left as fast as I could. The Lord convicted my heart after that. I rehearsed a Bible verse over and over in my head until it became my guiding light.”
“What verse?”
“For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind. II Timothy 1:7.”
“Is it that Bible verse that’s driving you to help me search for my daughter?”
“I’m a goal-oriented man. For me, it’s not enough to serve myself by seeking out my own ambitions. I serve One who is greater than I, so if I feel I need to help you, I am asking that you don’t turn me away. I have a unique gift; like you, I am immune to the Screamers. I think together we can get more done than if we’re alone.”
“I’m not alone,” Mason said.
Shemika gave him a smile.
“Neither am I,” the preacher said, referring to his relationship with God.
“We could use a little help, Mason,” Shemika said.
Considering Shemika’s comment, Mason asked the man, “Have you ever killed a man?”
“Is killing men a prerequisite to helping you find your daughter? Or is killing Screamers more important to you?”
“How many Screamers have you killed?” Mason asked, mostly for entertainment purposes. He doubted the man had ever killed more than one or two.
“Thirty-three,” he answered.
“You’ve killed thirty-three Ravagers?”
“Ravagers, Screamers, Fleshers, Runners—different strokes for different folks. They’re known by different names, but they’re all the same infection. And I’ve killed thirty-three of ’em.”
Mason was impressed with the preacher’s kill rate, so much so that he gained Mason’s respect. Not necessarily his trust, that was still yet to be earned.
Mason looked over his shoulder at Frenzy and wondered if the preacher was going to have moral dilemmas that kept Mason from doing an effective job.
“If I let you run with us, it’s my rules. You don’t interfere and try to push your religious beliefs onto me. I have to be a little unconventional if I’m going to get the information I need. That means that sometimes I’m going to have to kill people to get what I need.”
“What good are dead people?” the preacher asked.
“They influence the living,” Mason answered, looking back to Frenzy. “Well, I was hoping your friend there would turn and scare you into telling me a little about the Order, but now that I have preacher man here, there’s no need to keep you around anymore.”
“I can help, too,” Frenzy said.
“I think you’ve helped enough.”
“I know what she looks like.”
“So do I—if you want to live, you’re going to have to give me a reason.”
“Mason,” Shemika said, walking over to him and placing her soft hand on his chest, “not everybody has to die.”
“If I let him live, he leaves and brings back buddies to kill us.”
“I won’t come back,” Frenzy said. “You have my word.”
“See, he won’t come back,” Shemika said.
“We need to keep moving, anyway,” the preacher added.
Mason cut Frenzy down. “Now get out of here before I change my mind.”
Frenzy’s hands were still tied together. He paused by Mason, believing he would release his hands, too.
“Go on now. I’m not a charity service,” Mason said, kicking him out the front door.
“My name’s Shemika,” she said to the preacher.
“Mason, Shemika, we need to find another place to rest our heads for the night. It’s not safe here anymore.”
“I should’ve killed him,” Mason said to Shemika under his breath as he gathered up his belongings.
Union Station
Frenzy returned to Romeo as Mason suspected he would. Only, he didn’t return to an army of men taking orders from a strong vibrant leader. He returned to a broken man with a severely diminished squad-sized group of survivors. Even his tactician, confidant, and newest number one, Leroy, was missing. All Romeo had now was a ragtag group of men not even large enough to successfully fend off a Scrounger attack. So when he saw Frenzy approach, the reception was less than exciting.
“Where have you been?” Romeo asked.
“Smoka and Slasha are dead.”
“Everybody’s dead, Frenz’. Look around. This is all we have left.”
“What if I told you I can deliver the man responsible for this?”
Romeo noticed Frenzy wasn’t talking with his usual ghetto twang, but was acting more proper. He sensed Frenzy was after something, so he took the direct approach.
“What do you want, Frenzy?”
“I want a leadership position when we take Haven.”
“Haven is overrun with Screamers. Even the people of Haven are sieged.”
“What if I told you I had a way?”
“Whatever it is you’re hiding from me, spill it now, or I swear to God I’ll spill your guts.”
“The man responsible for this has the preacher.”
Romeo stood up. “The preacher?”
“The preacher’s with a man named Mason. Mason is the one who drove the tow truck through Haven’s gate, letting in all the Screamers.”
“I’ll give you a leadership position, and so much more, if you take me to them.”
The next morning
Mason, Shemika, and the preacher woke up early. Shemika had spent the better portion of a half hour foraging through the bare cabinets in search of anything. They were bone dry, much like every cabinet in every large community.
“We’re going to have to leave the city if we ever hope to find food. We need to search out an old farmhouse outside the rural areas,” Shemika suggested as she slammed the cabinet door closed.
“I wholeheartedly agree,” Mason added.
“Why did you lead the Screamers into Haven?” the preacher asked.
Shemika looked at Mason; anticipating his answer, she interjected herself into the question. “We tracked her back to Haven, where we met Colonel Sanders. Mason made it clear we were searching for his dau
ghter, but he wouldn’t answer his questions regarding her whereabouts. When Mason refused to commit himself to Haven, they separated us and sold me back to the Ebony Pistols. They imprisoned him and then taunted him with Lydia. After that, they traded her to some undisclosed group of Scroungers.”
Mason was paying careful attention to the story to make sure she relayed it correctly. The fact that she mentioned things he had only shared in his journal gave away the truth that she had read it without his knowledge. He decided to call her out on it.
“How did you find that out?” he asked.
“Which part?”
“The part about Lydia being sold to Scroungers because I wouldn’t commit myself. I never shared that with you.”
“You must have, because I—” Shemika cut herself short after she realized she had remembered what she read from his journal. “I read your journal as you slept,” she admitted.
“How much?”
“All of it.”
Mason had a blank expression. It was one that she hadn’t seen yet. “Are you mad at me?” she asked.
“I’m not mad, just a little embarrassed, I guess.”
“There’s no need to be embarrassed. I feel the same way,” she said.
Mason realized she was admitting to having feelings for him as he did towards her.
...
Outside, Romeo was leading a squad of fifteen armed men to apprehend the preacher and the man that had driven a tow truck into Haven, killing hundreds. Frenzy was on point, cautiously moving forward as he went. The sun was barely up, and temperatures were still near freezing.
“How much farther?” Romeo grumbled as he eagerly expected to have the preacher back in his control. Romeo’s plan, although unshared with anybody following him, was to use the preacher as the tip of the spear that would lead him back into Haven. But first, the stranger had to be killed.
When the squad reached the house, they quietly stepped up onto the porch, risking the possibility of a squeaky porch plank. The boards were still tightly secured, and the team stacked against the wall as they prepared to breach the front door. The front man grabbed the knob. The second man threw his right hand out so that the front man could see the countdown. From five, the man used his fingers to count down. At zero, the front man threw the door open and the team ran in shooting.
...
The sound of gunfire caught the attention of all three of them. “It’s Romeo,” the preacher said. “We have to leave.”
Mason, Shemika, and the preacher had safely vacated the place where Smoka had been killed the night before and slept in another house the next block over. The sounds of Romeo’s squad firing into the house as they entered couldn’t have been silenced. In the hush of the apocalypse, the new norm meant the loudest element was a brisk wind in the trees. Several rifles being fired a block over signaled to Mason’s group that danger was near.
...
“You’re a bunch of idiots!” Romeo shouted at his men. Each man had sent three to four rounds into the dead body of Romeo’s former employee they knew as Smoka. His body was gently swinging, a disturbance caused by Romeo’s men’s bullets as they impacted the peacefully hanging corpse.
“He was here, Romeo. They were here. There were three of ’em. A man named Mason, the preacher, and some lady with scars.”
“Scars? What kind of scars?”
“They looked like blade cuts all over her face. A black lady with green eyes.”
“An Ebony Pistol prize, I suspect.”
“I thought the same, but I never seen ’er.”
“It’s unlikely that anybody seen her. If she’s as scarred up as you say, then she’s endured far more than any of us. When we find the preacher, we’ll kill the stranger, then let the woman go.”
“We’re not going to kill ’er?” Frenzy asked, surprised that Romeo was letting her go.
Romeo stuck his pistol in Frenzy’s face. “If she dies, you die!
While Romeo seemed to be a man without a conscience, he had a soft spot for ladies and children. He was never one to sit idly by and watch children get abused or women beaten and raped. For Romeo, child abusers, pedophiles, and rapists were the lowest rung of the criminal element. There was no place for them in any operation under his authority. The Order had a strict pecking order full of criminals and individuals doing bad things to survive, but he failed to make a connection between the apocalypse and the abuse of women and children. From what Frenzy had just told him, he knew she had been plenty abused by the Ebony Pistols, a criminal element he wanted nothing to do with.
“If they stayed the night here, we would have seen them in transit. They must have left last night, so they could be anywhere. Spread out and find them,” Romeo commanded.
...
Mason, Shemika, and the preacher grabbed their belongings and ran out of the house. They were running down the street when they heard a sound they had not heard in a long time.
“Helicopters,” Mason said.
All three of them stopped and listened. Sure enough, the whipping sounds of the propeller blades cut through the air as six green military-style choppers were seen headed in an arcing direction from south to west. “Iroquois,” Mason added. The three of them stood in awe and wonder as they tracked the helicopters with their heads, turning to face the west.
Suddenly bullets whizzed by them with the sound of gunfire following. They ducked their heads, momentarily spotting a squad of men aiming rifles in their direction. “It’s Romeo and his men. We need to run.”
Mason shot back at the men to cover for them as they stepped off, running north. The bullets kept whizzing by until Shemika abruptly fell to the ground with a wince.
“Shemika,” Mason said, stopping to check on her.
“It’s my leg. I’m not going to make it.”
Mason tried picking her up and the preacher assisted from her other side. She bounced on one leg as they double-man carried her, but they weren’t moving fast enough.
“You have to leave me,” Shemika said.
“Keep moving,” Mason called out to her, but she just went limp. The bullets kept whizzing by as Mason and the preacher lowered her to the ground.
“I’m just a burden now. Go!” Shemika said.
“You’ll never be a burden to me,” Mason told her, looking into her beautiful green eyes. They were welling with tears as she tried convincing him to go without her, but he wouldn’t hear it.
The gunfire stopped and things went silent.
“It’ll be okay,” the preacher said.
Mason was stooped, kissing Shemika, who had given up the fight. The preacher’s words were heard, but they really didn’t listen to the meaning behind them. “Mason, the preacher said, “Your daughter’s close. Do not be afraid. Be strong and of good courage.”
Mason and Shemika cast their eyes up and made contact with the preacher’s. “Lydia is close.”
Mason thought he meant that she was dead and he was about to join her. The words gave him a sense of peace and encouragement, but as with many of the things the preacher received from God, the interpretation had a double edge, and only the preacher knew which to consider.
Mason and Shemika laid their weapons down. They were surrounded by Romeo and his men. The preacher had his walking stick in hand and refused to lay it on the ground.
“Should I even trust you with that?” Romeo asked him.
The preacher didn’t answer.
“Seize them. Leave the woman,” Romeo said.
Romeo’s men grabbed Mason and the preacher.
“That’s him,” Frenzy said, pointing to Mason. “That’s the guy that drove the tow truck into Haven.”
Mason gave a cold dead stare at Frenzy. “I should’ve killed you when I had the chance.”
“Well, now yo’ outta chances,” Frenzy said.
“Knock it off,” Romeo said to Frenzy.
“Knock what off?”
“That idiotic ghetto speak. Grow up or you won’t be a
good fit for your upcoming promotion.”
Romeo turned from scolding Frenzy to walking up into Mason’s face. “So you’re the man responsible for the deaths of hundreds of my people.”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, mister.”
In reality, Mason didn’t know he had inadvertently attacked and killed Romeo’s men. For Mason, his attack was personal. It was against Haven for what they had done to him, Shemika, and Lydia.
“Mason,” the preacher said, “cooperate! Everything will be fine. You have to trust me on this.”
“Listen to your boy, the preacher, Mason. That is what he called you, right? You’re Mason, killer of hundreds. I have something special lined up for you,” Romeo said. “Take ’em to Haven.”
Cheyenne Mountain Complex, Colorado
EMP-insulated military base
When the United States was first attacked, North American Air Defense, or NORAD, took command. Two years had passed and there was no sign of the President, Vice President, Speaker of the House, or any cabinet members, excluding the Secretary of Defense, who was already at NORAD responding militarily. Nobody knew how it happened or who was responsible. There were no incoming intercontinental ballistic missiles detected. There were no early warning signs or missile-defense protocols that could have been used. It was like the whole country was ghosted by a coordinated phantom attack. It was, without a doubt, the best-kept secret in all of the world’s history.
NORAD was now operating completely off the grid. It had electricity that was provided by built-in underground generators, which were powered by a lake of diesel fuel.
The mountain complex itself had fifteen buildings inside it. To get to them, you had to travel one mile in and then two thousand feet down. The three hundred fifty government employees that lived there drank water from a man-made lake and ate stores of food that were scheduled to last several years.
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