The Last Bastion [Book 2]

by K. W. Callahan

  “Well,” Michael shrugged, tiring of being the go-to guy for every solution, “what do you all think?”

  “Since everyone will be carrying a weapon…” Julia Justak started.

  “Everyone but the boys,” Christine Franko corrected.

  “Right,” Julia nodded. “Since everyone but the boys will be carrying a weapon, we should be able to mount a pretty good initial defense no matter where we are or how many biters are attacking. But what about when we run out of ammo? I mean, some of these handguns only hold five or six rounds. That might only be one or two biters depending on your aim. You can fire that many rounds in just as many seconds or less. Four, five seconds, and you’re out of ammo. And then what?”

  “Right,” Josh agreed. “We should probably carry an extra magazine or enough spare rounds with us so that we can reload at least once.”

  “Good thinking,” Michael nodded.

  “So let’s assume biters get through our barriers here on the first floor,” Ms. Mary said. “And the people on watch can’t stop them. What do they do?”

  “They’ll have to retreat upstairs through one of the stairwells depending on where the biters are coming in from,” Manny Simpson said.

  “Right,” Michael nodded. “Call for help as soon as you think there will be a breach, but don’t try to play hero. Do what you can, but then fall back to where you’ll be secure and have some support.”

  “But the people on watch aren’t going to be able to do much with two handguns worth of ammunition,” Josh said.

  “True,” Michael considered. “So maybe we keep a semi-automatic rifle and one of the shotguns down here with a smaller cache of ammo for each?” he eyed the group for approval.

  “It’d provide us more firepower to at least make an initial stand and give us time to retreat upstairs,” Manny said.

  Michael moved to set the selected weapons aside, along with a box of cartridges for the rifle and shells for the shotgun.

  “We can keep them on the desk inside the office over there,” he nodded at the walled off southwestern corner of the tower’s lower level. “That makes them close enough to be readily available, but in a location secured from biters,” he said. “What next?”

  “Well, if we still can’t hold off the biters, then we’ll have to retreat upstairs,” Josh said. “Once we get the corner stairwell inside the office barricaded better, we can make a defense at the top of each stairwell landing.”

  “What about the boys?” Christine asked. “What do they do? They’ll want to have a part in the defense, but I don’t want them getting in the way.”

  “Good point,” Ms. Mary nodded. “You know how they want to be so helpful. We don’t want them trying to play soldier and getting caught in the crossfire.”

  “Their job will be to move as much of the food, water, spare guns, and ammo up to higher floors as they can. We don’t want to loose half the tower only to find ourselves without supplies to hold out until we can take it back. It will keep them busy but out of the way at the same time.”

  “Okay, so we retreat up to the second floor where we make our next stand,” Julia said. “What then?”

  “Rinse and repeat?” Christine shrugged with a sliver of a smirk.

  “Pretty much…I guess. As long as at least one stairwell remains open for our escape,” Michael nodded. “I don’t think it’s advisable to try to hold out on the fourth, fifth or sixth floor since the fourth floor is where the office stairwell ends. If we get trapped on one of those upper floors, there’s no place to go.”

  “So where do we stash the mass of our reserve weapons and ammo?” Josh asked.

  “I say we divide most of it between the second and third floor,” Michael offered. “We can put the stuff in some of the file cabinets we found around here. That way they’re easily accessible to us, yet at the same time, if we get pushed upstairs without some of them, they’re out of sight of biters.”

  “Not like they’re going to be using them,” Patrick observed.

  “No, but who knows. They might pick them up or take them for some reason. I don’t know,” Michael shrugged. “Why chance it?”

  “What about setting up some firing blinds on the second and third floors if those are going to be our main levels of defense?” Josh asked.

  “Great idea,” Manny said. “We could use some of the office furniture up on the fifth floor…desks, cabinets, that sort of stuff, along with the cubicle dividers to build bulletproof barricades to fire from behind. We can erect them facing each stairwell so it will give us cover.”

  “Good,” Michael nodded. “I like it.”

  “What’s our final step from the fourth floor, should we have to take it?” Margaret asked.

  “Up…right?” her husband shrugged. “There’s no other option.”

  “Right,” Michael agreed. “Once we’re up to the fourth floor, there’s only one way up. So I’m of the opinion that rather than pick a floor and get pinned down on it without possibility of escape, we all haul ass up to the seventh floor. We can build a couple more firing blinds up there leading back from the stairwell to the rooftop ladder. Then we can mount a last stand sort of defense before retreating up to the rooftop. It’ll be easier to hold out up there since anyone who wants to get at us will have to come up that ladder and through the ceiling hatch, one person at a time. And since biters can’t climb ladders, it would make it an extremely difficult position to reach.”

  “And an extremely cold and exposed position for us to hold out on, too,” Ms. Mary hugged herself and shivered at the thought. “I was freezing when we were up there earlier. God only knows how terrible it would be stuck up there for hours or even days on end, out in that wind, snow falling on us, without shelter or heat.”

  “Right,” Caroline nodded. “We’d be stranded up there.”

  “I’d rather be stranded up there than dead,” Michael said. “Plus, we could look around for some more rope or something. If we find enough, we could leave it up there to climb down as a last resort.”

  “What! No way!” Christine Franko shivered. “A last resort for sure. I’m no fan of heights. And the thought of having to slide down some rope from the top of this tower sounds absolutely terrifying.”

  “Well, let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that. And if we play our cards right, and stick to this plan, hopefully it won’t,” Michael said. “And we could stash some supplies up on the seventh floor…food, water, extra blankets, stuff like that. We could even put some up on the roof. It’d certainly be safe up there. If we get pushed back to that point, the boys could haul that stuff up there while we’re defending the tower.”

  He looked around at the rest of the group.

  “Sound like a plan?” he asked.

  There were nods and murmurs of affirmation from the Blender adults.

  “Good,” Michael nodded. “I think we’ve come up with a good plan…a plan we’ll hopefully never have to use.” He looked at his watch. “It’s almost three. We’ll be losing light shortly. We won’t get close to getting everything in place today. So let’s focus on getting the guns doled out and our reserves in place and then start working on dinner. Tomorrow, we can continue with our barricades, blinds, and getting the rest of our supplies in place.”

  There were sighs and a sort of communal deflation ran through the group at the thought of all the work ahead.

  “I know, people,” Michael nodded. “It’s been a rough couple days, but the sooner we get all this stuff done, the sooner we can take a break and catch our breaths.”

  CHAPTER 16

  It was the dawn of a new day, but a night of sleeping in near freezing temperatures hadn’t done much for Wendell’s disposition.

  “It’s freaking freezing in here!” Wendell whined as he sat huddled beneath a blanket on their living room sofa. “Where are the police? Where is the army? Where is the National Guard? What happens when we run out of food? It won’t be long, you know. Especially with three of us here. We weren
’t planning for something like this. We weren’t ready.”

  Charla wanted to tell him to shut the hell up. Tell him they’d heard it all before; and frankly, that they’d had enough of his constant complaining. But it wouldn’t do any good. Wendell was in one of his moods. And when he was in one of his moods, few things could break the funk he’d slip into.

  And in a way, she sympathized with him. She was wondering many of the same things. “Where was the army? Where was the National Guard? Where would they get more food and water?”

  “I wish I could get back to my condo,” Chris shook his head. He sat in one of the dining room chairs that he’d pulled from the table into the living room. “I have some food back there…not much, but…”

  “What good is that going to do us?!” Wendell snapped angrily. “It might as well be in Antarctica for all we care! We’re trapped in this damn condo! And with those biters out there in the hallway, this is where we’re going to stay!”

  Charla was looking out the sliding glass balcony door, arms folded, holding a heavy blanket from the bed around her shoulders. “I think there are people in that tower across the parking lot. I saw lights moving around inside there through the windows last night.”

  “What? Hofmann Tower?” Wendell frowned. “So what?”

  “I wonder if it’s the same people who were fighting off the biters after the troops pulled out?” Chris joined Charla at the balcony door.

  “Maybe they could help us,” she said hopefully.

  “Huh!” Wendell half laughed, half scoffed, moving from the sofa to stand beside the other two by the balcony door. “Look! There are biters all around that place!” he pointed at the throngs of biters around the tower’s perimeter. “They can’t even help themselves! Those people are stuck in there! How the hell are they going to help us?”

  Charla let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know,” she said softly, shaking her head. “I was just thinking out loud, trying to come up with something. Better than just bitching all the time.”

  “If we could get over there, they might be willing to let us stay with them,” Chris said. “That place looks like a freaking fortress.”

  “We can’t even get down the hall to your condo! How are we supposed to get over there?” Wendell looked at Chris with contempt and disbelief.

  “Maybe tonight we could try to signal them with lights of our own,” Charla offered the idea, mostly to Chris.

  “Great,” Wendell shook his head and walked over to plop back down on the sofa. “Then they’ll know they’re not alone in being screwed.”

  “Maybe they have a radio or cell service or something,” Chris said.

  “Or at least some weapons,” Charla said hopefully.

  “If they knew we were over here, maybe they could help us. Or if they’re in contact with others…or the military or something…if they manage to get help somehow, they could at least let them know we’re in here and still alive,” Chris added.

  “You two are dreaming,” Wendell shook his head. “It’s every man for himself now. Those people over there, they’re looking out for themselves. The only thing you’re going to do by letting them know we’re here is potentially draw them over to steal what little we have left and then kill us. Although they might let you live, Charla. They might have other things in mind for you.”

  Charla turned around vehemently to face her husband. “You know what?” she almost yelled. “If you don’t have anything fucking constructive to add, just do us all a favor and shut your goddamn mouth!”

  Wendell glared at her but stayed silent. Finally, he said calmly, “Here’s something constructive. You want to keep the biters away? Keep your voice down.”

  Charla ignored him and turned back around. She watched the biters clustered around the base of the massive tower across the parking lot from their condo building for another minute.

  “Well, I don’t care what you say,” she said at last. “I think we should try to contact them tonight. We can use our flashlights to signal them.”

  “Waste of batteries, in my opinion,” Wendell muttered.

  “I’m willing to give it a shot,” Chris nodded, turning to give Charla an upbeat smile that made her feel ten times better.

  “Your funeral,” Wendell grumbled. Then after a few seconds, he added, “Actually, I guess it will be all our funerals.”

  There was a loud thumping sound as one of the biters roaming the hallway outside banged against the condo’s front door. It made everyone inside jump and turn to look. One of the chairs they’d put in place to help barricade the door was knocked askew, and Chris quickly moved to replace it. Then there was another thud, and then another.

  “Looks like they’re getting hungry,” Chris whispered. “They know there is guaranteed food in here, and they want it.”

  Charla looked at him, the worry evident in her eyes. “You think they’ll get in?” she hissed over the sound of several more loud thumps and thuds against the door.

  “Not for a while,” Chris said. “But maybe eventually. These doors weren’t meant for constant battering. The frames are sturdy, but the locks on the doors are pretty flimsy if you really look at them. This place was built for security on the outside…not so much on the inside. That’s why we have a key for the elevator, locks on the stairwell doors, and guests had to be buzzed in through the lobby. All the main deterrents for intruders were located mostly downstairs or in the stairwells themselves. The locks on these doors were meant more for privacy and general peace of mind.”

  “Great,” Charla huffed in a soft whisper. “How long you think we have until they break through?”

  “Who knows,” Chris shook his head. “Could be a day, two days…more. Could be less. Guess it depends on how many start pounding on that door…” he paused for another heavy thud outside in the hallway, “…how often, and how hard.”

  He turned to look out the balcony door again. “I wish I had some of my tree rigging here. We could repel off the balcony.”

  “But then what?” Charla asked.

  “Good question,” Chris nodded.

  “Then we’d be out there…with them,” she gestured toward the hoards of biters around Hofmann Tower.

  “Looks like we’re kind of screwed either way,” Chris frowned, biting the corner of his lower lip and giving it a soft chew. “Still, I think we should give contacting the tower a shot. Couldn’t hurt.”

  “That’s what you think,” Wendell grimaced, shaking his head from where he’d reassumed his huddled position on the sofa.

  Charla and Chris turned to look at him and then at one another. They both sighed softly, shook their heads, and rolled their eyes in disgust.

  * * *

  “Man, this sucks!” Andrew Franko groaned.

  “I know,” Jack agreed as he helped his brother carry an empty file cabinet downstairs to the third floor. “I’d rather be on watch duty or doing something more interesting than just moving furniture.”

  “Heck, I’d rather be in school, even!” his brother sighed. “At least it’d be warm there.”

  “No kidding,” Jack agreed. “It’s cold as crap in here, even with our winter gear on. And that heater they have going downstairs hardly helps at all.”

  “It doesn’t do anything!” Andrew shook his head as they got the file cabinet down the stairs and carried it over to where Michael was working at a nearby window.

  “I had a terrible time trying to sleep last night. I kept waking up shivering it was so darn cold,” Jack told his brother as they set the cabinet down.

  “Thanks boys,” Michael smiled in the fading light. “You have been great helps today.”

  “Great,” Andrew grimaced. “Anything else you need?”

  “One more of these if you can find it up there. Then you can call it a day. Our light is fading fast, and you’ve put in plenty of time today. You need a good night’s sleep.”

  “Don’t count on it,” Jack frowned. “Too darn cold.”

  “Cold?”
Michael frowned. “How were you cold? You have a sleeping bag like mine, don’t you?”

  “Yeah,” Jack nodded.

  “Well, I was hot last night,” Michael said. “You keep your bag zipped up around you?”

  “No,” Jack shook his head. “I unzipped it and spread it out so that it was like a blanket.”

  “Well there’s your problem,” Michael said. “Keep it zipped up tight around you tonight…like a cocoon. It’ll insulate you using your own body heat. And I’d recommend wearing your knit hat to sleep in. The one thing that is exposed in a sleeping bag is your head, and you lose a ton of body heat that way. With a hat on, and your bag zipped up tight, you should be good to go.”

  “I’ll give it a shot,” Jack said, sounding less than convinced.

  “Come on,” his brother tugged at his coat. “Let’s get this last file cabinet downstairs so we can rest.”

  “And eat,” Jack added.

  “Here,” Michael handed Jack a flashlight. “It’ll be dark in a few minutes. Don’t want you falling and hurting yourselves.”

  “Thanks,” Jack murmured.

  Michael watched them go. He was worried about the boys. It’d only been a few days in the tower, and they were already starting to look defeated. He knew this time was coming, the time when the realization that their world had changed, and changed dramatically, really began to hit home. He had just hoped it would come a little later. It was going to be a tough transition for them – for everyone. He could only imagine how it was going to be for these technology-addicted youngsters who’d yet to encounter any real hardship in their lives.

  Upstairs on the fifth floor, Andrew clicked on the flashlight, having taken it from his younger brother. The boys wandered slowly through the cubicles to where the other file cabinet was that Michael had requested.

  “What do you think we’ll have for dinner tonight?” Jack asked his brother.

  “Hopefully not more of those crappy noodles. They were terrible,” Andrew shook his head in the near darkness as he led his brother to one of the cubicles on the fifth floor.