Last Stand (The Survivalist Book 7)

by Arthur Bradley

  The general’s eyes fluttered open.

  “What happened?”

  “You just won the lottery, that’s what.”

  Carr slowly sat up and unstrapped the side of the vest. He reached inside and gingerly pressed against his chest.

  Grimacing, he said, “It feels like I’ve been kicked by a mule.”

  “Better than the alternative.” Mason stood up and looked around the room. Four more Black Dogs down. That made eleven dead or dying, and one wounded. It was a good start.

  General Carr took a few deep breaths and got back to his feet, using the wall to steady himself.

  “Sorry about that,” he said. “I guess I’m out of practice.”

  Mason slapped in a fresh magazine.

  “You’re alive, and they’re not. That’s all that matters.”

  “I see you were right.”

  “About what?”

  He nodded toward Bowie. The fur around the dog’s mouth was soaked in blood.

  “Your dog does have teeth.”

  “That he does.”

  “And he didn’t wait for you to command him to attack. That’s a good fighting companion.”

  “I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again—Bowie’s as much human as he is canine.” Mason reached down and scrubbed his neck. “And that’s one reason I love him so much.”

  The tip of Bowie’s huge tongue snaked in and out of his mouth as he relished in the attention.

  “All right,” Mason said, straightening back up, “let’s bring the rest of them here.” He went to the door and glanced out into the hallway to make sure it was still clear.

  It was.

  He brought the radio to his mouth.

  “Go one.”

  A familiar voice echoed his command.

  “Roger. Go one.” Thirty seconds later, Leila and the others appeared at the other end of the hallway.

  Mason waved them on. “Come on!”

  As they hurried into the room, everyone stared in shock at the bodies of the four dead soldiers.

  “My Lord,” said Glass, “what happened here?”

  “We walked in on them,” explained Carr.

  “You weren’t hurt, were you?” Her eyes drifted to the small hole in the center of his vest.

  “No,” he said, walking over to Jack. “But the soldiers were kind enough to answer Jack’s question.” He dropped the flattened slug into his lap.

  Jack said nothing as he picked it up and rubbed the warm lead between his fingers.

  Leila quickly scanned Mason’s vest. When she didn’t find a hole, she offered an approving smile.

  “You were careful.”

  “More like lucky.”

  “My sister Roni used to say that luck is the gentle kiss of God, granted only to those who deserve it most.”

  Mason put no weight in divine intervention, but he didn’t dare voice such doubt. If it helped Leila to believe that God was watching out for them, so be it. Who was he to say otherwise?

  He met her smile with one of his own.

  “Let’s just hope we continue to deserve it.”

  Chapter 17

  Not surprisingly, Tanner and Samantha’s escorts confiscated his shotgun and her rifle. They made no effort, however, to strip them of their knives or the satchel of C4. The knives were understandable enough, as the blades were of little danger to a group so large. As for the explosives, Tanner suspected that the virus had left the infected with so little intelligence that they no longer even understood the threat. He wouldn’t have been surprised to discover a group of them chewing on a block of C4 like an oversized granola bar.

  The group led them into a tunnel that branched off the main corridor and ended in an alcove the size of several city blocks. Ahead lay a huge tent city, row after row of identical white six-man shelters spread as far as the eye could see. Fires burned in garbage-filled barrels, small holes cut through their sides to keep the flames alive. Infected men, women, and children huddled around the barrels, holding makeshift skewers with rats the size of small dogs dangling off their ends. Many more carried buckets across the camp, water sloshing out with every step.

  “It’s an underground city,” Samantha said, marveling at the sheer size of the spectacle.

  “More like a refugee camp,” corrected Tanner.

  “How many people do you think there are?”

  “People? None.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He did a quick estimate of the tents. There were between two and three hundred, as well as a dozen boxcars lined up along the walls with the words “U.S. Property” printed on their sides.

  “A few thousand maybe.”

  “Do you think this was an evacuation area for all the important people in the city?”

  “Makes sense.”

  Marlo began ushering them through the crowd. Some of the infected gnashed their teeth or struck their chests with open hands, like tribal warriors challenging outsiders. Others stood dumbfounded, watching as the intruders slowly progressed through their midst. None, however, made any move to stop them.

  It took nearly ten minutes to navigate the crowd before finally arriving at the rear of the enormous alcove. Dozens of tents had been unfolded and stitched together to act as a makeshift citadel. Two infected men stood in front of the oversized structure, naked from the waist up. Each carried a heavy board with nails protruding from the end. Thick cords of muscle and oversized joints made them look more like ancient troglodytes than modern humans.

  Marlo turned to Tanner. “If you try to hurt Mother, they’ll kill you and your girl.”

  He eyed the two men. Based on their size and the heavy sticks in their hands, they certainly seemed up to the task.

  “Understood.”

  “Wait here while I speak with Mother.”

  Marlo pushed her way through the flap and disappeared, leaving Tanner and Samantha surrounded by the mob of infected men and women. The crowd eyed them with as much distrust as the Lilliputians had Gulliver.

  “They’re not very friendly, are they?” she whispered.

  “I don’t know about that. No one’s tried to eat us yet.”

  “Hey look,” she said, nodding. “Babies.”

  Tanner glanced over to see a line of women holding babies wrapped in dingy strips of cloth. Based on the size of the bundles, the infants couldn’t have been more than a few weeks old.

  “Do you think their babies are infected too?”

  “Don’t know. Some infections pass to babies, others don’t.”

  “But if the babies aren’t infected, wouldn’t they want to kill them?”

  “Be thankful for the little things.”

  She nodded. “Right.”

  The flap of the tent flipped open, and Marlo’s head popped out.

  “Come. Mother will see you.”

  With a hand resting firmly on Tanner’s shoulders, the two troglodytes shepherded him and Samantha into the tent. The men crowded in so closely that he could feel the heat of their rank breaths on the back of his neck. As soon as they entered, the smell of sour milk washed over them like the pungent pheromones of a herd of dairy cows. Tanner and Samantha were accustomed to strange and often foul odors, but this one was particularly ripe. What they saw in the center of the tent, however, was so utterly unbelievable that neither of them even so much as noticed the stench.

  Mother lay before them, sprawled out on a thick pile of blankets with two more troglodytes standing beside her. Her eyes were black and her skin blistered, like many of the infected, but she had mutated in an almost unimaginable way. She had grown as big as Jabba the Hutt, easily eight feet tall and nearly that in width. She lay naked except for a large sheet draped across her groin. Her upper body had developed six flabby breasts, and a newborn baby nursed from each. The babies rested comfortably on folds of fat, sucking the teats while sleeping against her flaccid body.

  The air caught in Tanner’s throat, and he found himself unable to speak.

>   Samantha recovered a bit quicker and stepped forward to do a little curtsy.

  “Pleased to meet you, Mother. I’m Samantha, and this is my father, Tanner.”

  The woman’s black eyes closed briefly, acknowledging the introduction.

  “Where have you come from?” Unlike many of the infected, her voice was smooth to the point of being beautiful.

  “From up there,” Samantha said, pointing. “Not from the ceiling, of course. From outside.”

  “You came from the surface?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And how, may I ask, did you did you do that?”

  Samantha glanced back at Tanner, wondering if she should reveal what was to be their way out.

  “We came down a collapsible staircase,” Tanner said, finally shaking himself free.

  “There are precious few exits remaining. You will, of course, show us this one.”

  “We would, but they closed up the stairs behind us,” he said, stretching the truth a bit. “I’m not sure we could find it anymore, and even if we could, I doubt we could open it from down here.”

  “Soldiers did this?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Two of them.”

  She closed her eyes, and they were slow to reopen.

  “They are trying to seal us in this underground tomb.” One of the babies popped off a teat and began to cry. “Hush now,” she said, gently lifting it back into place. “Mother’s got you.”

  Tanner and Samantha gazed in awe, like people do a carnival freak show—the bearded lady, the dwarf with two heads, and now, for the grand finale, the mutant blob with six breasts.

  Once Mother had the baby quieted, she turned back to Tanner.

  “You’ve told me how you came to be here, but not why.”

  He debated on how much to reveal. Any lie he dreamed up would be thinner than the sheet covering her crotch, and Mother did not seem easily fooled.

  “We’re on our way to Mount Weather.”

  That seemed to interest her.

  “Why would you go there?”

  When he was slow to answer, Samantha spoke up.

  “There’s a bad man there, and we’re going to kill him.”

  She studied Samantha. “They’re all bad men, dear.”

  “This one’s particularly bad. He destroyed a city and murdered the marshals.”

  Mother looked to Tanner for a better explanation.

  “We’re going to kill the President.”

  “The President is at Mount Weather?”

  “Yes.”

  She took a deep breath, as if letting the information soak into her enormous body.

  “And how do you plan to get through the gate?”

  Tanner knew nothing of a gate.

  When she saw the blank look on his face, she said, “The entrance to Mount Weather is sealed with a heavy gate and protected by guards with machine guns. There is also a strange weapon that generates sound. My people refer to it as the noisemaker. We’ve tried a few times to penetrate the gate, but it’s proved impossible.”

  Tanner thought for a moment.

  “Difficult, yes, but maybe not impossible.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because I have something that you don’t.”

  She tipped her head. “What?”

  He patted the satchel. “Explosives.”

  Once again, she studied him carefully.

  “Do you know how to use them?”

  “Are you kidding? I’m a regular Blaster Bates.”

  Not following the World War II reference, Mother looked confused.

  “What I’m saying is that I’m practically a demolitions expert.”

  “That’s a bit of an exaggeration,” Samantha mumbled under her breath.

  Mother thought long and hard before speaking.

  “I believe what you’re saying, but I don’t believe that you will succeed. There are simply too many soldiers. Even if you destroy the gate, you will not be able to get past them. You will die in the tunnel like many others who have tried. No,” she said softly, “it is better if you stay here with us.”

  Her words sounded dangerously like a proclamation that was not going to be open to debate.

  “Your Highness,” said Samantha, “if I may?”

  “Go on.”

  “What if you helped us?”

  “Me?”

  “Why not? You want the soldiers to stop sealing the exits, and we want to get past them.”

  Mother said nothing.

  “If you sent some of your…” she hunted for the right word as she glanced at the troglodytes, “warriors with us, they could help to fight the soldiers.”

  “Even if I agreed to that, it would require a huge force. Hundreds of men, and several days’ walk through the tunnels, at that.”

  “I don’t know how many men it would take,” Samantha said with a smile, “but I do know they wouldn’t have to walk.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because we have a train.”

  Mother looked over at Tanner, and he gave a short nod.

  “She’s right. We could transport several hundred people to Mount Weather within a few hours.”

  Mother looked down at the babies suckling her breasts.

  “I don’t know… These babies need fathers too.”

  Tanner saw the window closing fast and decided to press.

  “You said they’re sealing you in. What happens when all of the exits are closed?”

  Mother didn’t answer.

  “I can tell you what. You and your people will die a slow miserable death. Including those babies lying on your stomach.”

  Mother said nothing.

  “You need to clear Mount Weather as much as we do.”

  Mother’s face was slowly turning red, and Tanner stepped back, fearing that he had angered her. She laid a palm on her swollen stomach, and when she spoke, her voice was pained.

  “Leave me while I think on this. Birth is close at hand.”

  The surface of her stomach began to bulge as small hands and feet pressed against the gelatinous flesh. The two troglodytes behind Tanner and Samantha quickly ushered them from the room. Before they knew what was happening, they were once again standing outside the large tent. Marlo awaited them, but her less than friendly compatriots were gone. The rest of the camp also seemed to have lost interest.

  A column of women rushed past them, pushing their way into the tent. Samantha glanced back, watching as the last one disappeared behind the flap.

  “Do you think Mother’s going to have a baby?”

  As if on cue, a baby’s cry sounded from inside the tent, followed by another, and another, and then another. Soon they lost track as the wailing of newborns grew and grew.

  “More like a litter,” he said with a laugh.

  Marlo growled and turned toward him with fire in her eyes.

  “Mother is our salvation. Our beloved. An unkind word can never be said about her.”

  “Easy, tiger,” he said, raising both hands. “I didn’t mean to offend. It’s just a little different than what we’re used to, that’s all.”

  Her face softened. “Without Mother, there is no tomorrow. She’s the only one who adds to the family.”

  He nodded, hoping a little conversation might help to undo his faux pas.

  “And how often does she, uh, add to the family?”

  “Every twelve days.”

  “Twelve days!” exclaimed Samantha. When she saw Marlo’s stern expression, she added, “That must be really… convenient.”

  “Can’t the other women give birth?” asked Tanner.

  “No.” Marlo brought a hand to her stomach. “The virus left us barren. All women can be made to lactate, but only Mother gives life.”

  “And the men… they…” He struggled to find a delicate way of saying it.

  She nodded. “They service her when the time is right. It’s quite an honor, actually.”

  Tanner tried to imagine what it mig
ht be like to “service” anything that looked like Mother, and his face wrinkled up.

  “I bet.”

  A ruckus sounded to their left, and everyone turned to see two men squaring off like prizefighters. Dozens of the infected had gathered in a wide circle, cheering for them to go at it. Both men were big and strong, but one was even more fearsome than the troglodytes guarding Mother. Each fighter carried one of their trademark nail boards, so at least the contest was fair in that regard.

  “Why are they fighting?” asked Samantha.

  “They’re settling a claim.”

  “What’s that?”

  “When a man wants to take a woman as his mate, he announces his claim. Another man can challenge, if he wants her for himself.”

  “And what does the woman have to say about it?” asked Tanner.

  “Nothing. She can only hope that a good man will lay claim to her.”

  “And are they good men?” said Samantha.

  “The weaker man, no. He killed his last mate.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  She shrugged. “I suppose she didn’t satisfy him.”

  “What does that mean?”

  She looked to Tanner. “It might be better if her father explained.”

  Samantha turned to him. “Well? Dad?”

  He thought for a moment. “You remember when you were sick and really wanted that chocolate drink?”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “So, if I’d brought you back a Coke, it wouldn’t have been the same, right?”

  She furrowed her brow. “What are you saying? That he killed her because she was a Coke instead of a Yoo-hoo?”

  He scratched his head. “Where was I going with this?”

  “You’ve got me.”

  “It’s not going to matter anyway,” interjected Marlo. “Korn will win the claim.”

  “Korn?” said Samantha. “Is he the big ugly guy?”

  Marlo squinted. “What do you know, child? Korn is a beautiful specimen.”

  She shrugged. “Okay, but is he a good man?”

  “I’ve never heard a complaint from his other mates.”

  “Other mates? How many does each man get?”

  Marlo seemed confused by the question.

  “As many as he can take, of course.”