Surviving The Evacuation | Life Goes On (Book 2): No More News

by Tayell, Frank

“We’ve got an RV,” Olivia said. “But we don’t have much fuel.”

  “And there’s six of you?” Marv asked.

  “Plus a dog. Four children,” Jenny said. “We have room for more, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “It is. Albie! You drove your pa’s combine-trailer, yes?”

  The wall of human muscle nodded. “Yep.”

  “Think you can drive an RV?”

  Albie gave a shrug.

  “I don’t know if he’ll fit in the seat,” Jenny said.

  “I don’t think he’ll fit through the door,” Olivia said.

  “I can keep it on the road,” Albie said, his voice as deep as a double bass, with as melodious an undertone. “I can keep anything on the road.”

  “Then you’re very welcome,” Olivia said. “Cool. Great. This is… this is all great.”

  “It certainly is,” Jenny said. “Do you want us to drive here tomorrow?”

  “If you can wait a few hours, I’ll get you some fuel,” Marv said.

  “I don’t like leaving the children alone that long,” Jenny said. “And we have some supplies we could move up to the RV. If we do that, and if Livy comes back here later, could she bring the diesel?”

  “Albie can carry it,” Marv said.

  Albie nodded. “As far as you need.”

  “Livy will be back in a couple of hours, then. Livy?”

  “Hmm? Oh… sure,” Olivia said.

  “What is it?” Jenny asked.

  “Nothing,” Olivia said. “I just thought I saw… but it was no one. Nothing. It doesn’t matter.” Behind the barricade, she thought she’d seen someone she knew. A man in a sports jacket and baseball cap, carrying a shovel, who’d been strolling towards the barricade, but then turned and walked away in the opposite direction. As he had, he’d tilted the hat and she’d seen his face. It couldn’t be. Surely not. Not here. Not Morgan Mack, the man who’d shot Nicole.

  “Are you okay, Livy?” Jenny asked.

  “I’m seeing ghosts,” Olivia said. “Someone I used to know.”

  “Not a friend, I take it?” Jenny asked.

  “Not exactly,” Olivia said. Before she could say any more, a mechanical rumble filled the air, followed by a sharp whistle as the sentry pointed south.

  “More arrivals,” Marv said. “Maybe it’s the government.”

  He went back to the road to meet them. Jenny and Olivia followed, but only to the edge of the wire cage doing service as a door.

  The road convoy certainly looked official. Two police cars were led by a pair of odd-looking motorcycle outriders, with a quad bike bringing up the rear. Marv walked out onto the road to meet them, Albie a protective four steps behind.

  They weren’t police motorcycles, Olivia realised, just as the vehicles stopped. No, they were just ordinary dirt bikes. And were the bikers cops? They had police motorbike helmets and windbreakers, but both were wearing jeans. Well, of course they were, she realised. It wasn’t as if any drycleaners were still open.

  The driver of the lead car was dressed in police uniform, though it was fraying and stained. The passenger, though, was immaculate. He adjusted his hat, then his belt, and slowly sauntered towards Marv.

  Olivia frowned. There was something about him. Something… She looked back at the driver, then the immaculate officer.

  “Oh, no,” she whispered.

  “What?” Jenny asked.

  “It might be nothing, but I’m certain I know those two. The younger one, the driver, his name is Herrera. The other is Vevermee, I think.”

  “And that’s bad?” Jenny asked.

  But Vevermee answered that himself. He’d stopped ten yards from Marv, with his hand on his belt, threateningly close to his holster.

  “It’s good to see you,” Marv said. “We’ve been waiting for the government.”

  “You in charge here, boy?” Vevermee drawled in an accent and tone that surely had to be copied from a movie because Olivia had never heard a person speak like that in real life.

  Albie tensed, his shirt rippling as his muscles moved to get out of each other’s way.

  “Yes,” Marv said slowly. “Yes, I’m in charge.”

  “This is an illegal assembly,” Vevermee said. “As per orders from the governor, you’re to return to your homes.”

  “The governor is still alive?” Marv asked.

  “Return to your homes, await further instructions,” Vevermee said. “And before you go, I want a list of everyone who’s here.”

  “That’ll take time,” Marv said. “There’s a lot of us.”

  “You haven’t been keeping records?” Vevermee asked.

  “Didn’t seem much point,” Marv said. “But we’ll disperse. I’ll go spread the word.”

  “Sir, hostiles,” Herrera called, and pointed down the road to a pair of zombies lurching towards them.

  Vevermee eyed Marv up and down once again, then spun on his heel. He strode to his police cruiser, opened the back seat, and reached inside. Oddly, he came out holding not a rifle, but a heavy padded metal pack which he hauled onto his back. Olivia’s first thought was disinfectant. That, after the zombies were killed, the cop planned to spray the street. It was a notion dispelled when the pilot-light at the tip of the torch-gun ignited. Vevermee strode down the street, as the undead lurched towards him.

  Despite the mud covering them nearly head to toe, there was no disguising these woken dead were young. Barely older than Robyn. Still children. Still deadly monsters, a walking horror from the worst nightmares.

  Fifty yards away, Vevermee raised the flamethrower’s torch-gun and fired, spraying one creature and then the other with liquid fire. He began at the feet, moving the jet of flame upwards to legs, torso, head, before pivoting across to the second zombie, and coating her, head to chest to legs. But the zombies didn’t stop. They didn’t scream. Their clothing popped. Their skin sizzled. Their bones cracked, and they walked on, inhuman torches.

  All the while, the officers on the dirt bikes, and the officer from the rear car, watched Albie and Marv. Only Herrera watched his boss, but Olivia couldn’t see his expression. Was he impressed? Was he horrified?

  At ten yards, the first of the flaming zombies collapsed. On the ground, rolling, twitching, the zombie finally appeared to be acting normally. At five yards, the other zombie fell.

  “I want everyone gone from here within the hour,” Vevermee said. “You remain here,” he added, addressing Marv, before slowly striding back to his car. He extinguished the flame-thrower’s pilot light and handed the rig to Herrera before getting into the driver’s side. He barely waited for Herrera to get in before starting the engine. The cars reversed around the still writhing, still burning zombies, driving away, the dirt bikes following in their wake.

  “He’s no cop,” Jenny said.

  “Not anymore,” Marv echoed. “We’re leaving now. No point waiting until morning. You said you have enough diesel for a few miles? I’ll get you a few more cans. We’ll give you the rest later. Albie, those two cans in the shed. Quick.”

  With surprising speed, the young man sprinted for the shed.

  “The rendezvous is the cemetery on Edison Road,” Marv said. “Do you know it?”

  “Too well,” Jenny said.

  Albie ran back as fast as he’d gone, a fuel can in each massive hand. “You want me to go with them, Coach?” he asked.

  “Can you make it on your own?” Marv asked.

  “I’m not as feeble as that, not yet,” Jenny said severely.

  “Because I could do with Albie’s help for now,” Marv said. “We’ll see you at the cemetery.”

  Without another word, Marv hurried away, with Albie on his heels.

  “That was—” Olivia began.

  “Talk later,” Jenny said, hefting a fuel can. “Think later. Act now.”

  Balancing the fuel while cycling and watching for the undead, Olivia barely noticed the roads they travelled as they cycled back to the house. The journey seem
ed to take no time, though they’d been gone long enough for the children to fill all the bags they’d been able to find.

  “There’s still more, Nana,” Dwayne said. “More clothes. More food. More batteries. More—”

  “And more to be found in other houses,” Jenny said. “But you did a good job, all of you. We’re leaving now. We met an old friend at the university, and he’s leading a convoy out of South Bend. We’re going with him, and we’re going now. Grab a bag. No more than you can carry, Dwayne, and you certainly can’t carry three.”

  Five minutes later, Olivia was leading the way, Rufus at her side, Wayde a step behind, pushing her bicycle onto which they’d slung as many bags as it could feasibly take.

  One block away from the RV, the city shuddered as a dull and distant explosion shook the sky. A narrow column of smoke rose to the southeast. A second explosion, louder, flatter, longer, followed it. The smoke rose to a billowing cloud.

  “A fuel tanker,” Jenny hissed.

  “You think that was the university?” Olivia asked.

  “I worry it might have been,” Jenny said. “Boys, get those bags off the bike. Livy, you cycle south, find out what happened. We’ll wait in my house. I don’t want to drive to the cemetery if we’re the only people going to be there.”

  “Got it,” Olivia said, grabbed the bike, and began cycling frantically south. A third explosion, softer than the previous two, but still loud enough to hear, echoed across the city. Olivia tried to cycle faster, but was already going flat out.

  She heard the screams first. Then the gunshots. Zombies. It had to be. Zombies were heading toward the sound of the explosion, picking off the injured and disorientated. But when she drew close enough to see the barricade, she saw something worse. She jumped from the bike, but had the presence of mind to grab it before it fell, laying it quietly down next to her as she took shelter behind the neatly sculpted hedge bordering a college-adjacent house. In front of the barricade were the people dressed as cops. She recognised the police cruiser Herrera had driven, and which Vevermee had ridden. With it were two dirt bikes, and two multi-wheeled armoured cars that must have been military surplus before the police department had purchased them.

  Vevermee stood, hands on hips, in front of the armoured car. She counted twelve others, all wearing some pieces of police gear. Half were watching the road. The other half watched the prisoners.

  There were five of those, kneeling, with their hands cuffed behind their backs, attached to the now buckled fence. Marv was in the middle, Albie next to him, the woman who’d been on sentry duty on the other side. The other two, Olivia didn’t recognise. Behind the prisoners, smoke and screams rose to the sky as the university burned, but she couldn’t see any more survivors. No, there was one! Someone was running out of the smoke. A figure in a baseball cap and sports coat. Guns were raised until Vevermee yelled a command to lower them.

  The figure slowed from a run to a saunter, walking around the prisoners, and over to Vevermee. There he gave a sloppy salute before taking off his cap. This time, Olivia was sure. It was Mack.

  Mack handed something to Vevermee, though Olivia couldn’t see what. A shot rang out as one of the police sentries fired. All of the guards turned to look, but Vevermee didn’t. He reached into a pocket, and pulled something out. When Olivia saw the small flame, she realised it was a lighter. Vevermee tossed it onto the road. A burst of flames licked upwards, turning into a smoking trail, quickly dancing towards the prisoners. They screamed, and their screams only grew worse as the fuel-trail burned closer, quickly reaching them. Already doused in fuel, they erupted into human candles. Olivia froze, unable to move for a long second as the screams grew worse.

  She reached for the bag in which she kept the gun, drawing it, but Vevermee and the others were already boarding their vehicles. As for the prisoners, there was nothing she could do for them. Not now.

  Chapter 25 - Justice Delayed

  Thunder Bay

  “That’s what happened,” Olivia said. “Afterwards, I went back to Jenny and the kids. We decided to wait until night, leave a few hours before dawn, and look for more diesel along the way. But Vevermee was hunting for people, survivors from the university. One of the dirt bikes drove down the street. They saw the RV. Saw Marge’s body. The rider threw a Molotov cocktail into the cab before driving off.”

  “Why would anyone do that?” Pete asked.

  “It’s beyond my understanding,” Olivia said. “As is Mack. I’m sure it was him, there, at the university. And I think… okay, so I don’t know for certain, but I think he caused the explosion at the university. And before you ask me why he did it, give me another explanation for why Vevermee didn’t shoot him.”

  “I can’t,” Pete said. “And I believe you. There was nothing you could do. You couldn’t have stopped them.”

  “Oh, I know,” Olivia said. “I was too far away, and too uncertain a shot to even give the prisoners a quick death. But there’s a difference between achieving something and doing something, you know? It’s why I went back to my apartment. I thought Mack might be there, or hanging around nearby. Of course, he wasn’t. If he had been, I… I don’t know. But sometimes, even if you’re not going to achieve anything but death, you should try.”

  “You’d have been killed. The children would have died.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe not. You’d have still come to South Bend, so who knows. I… I’m not going to justify what I did, or didn’t do. And I’m not looking for absolution. It’s… in that moment, I saw how much the world had changed, and I’m not prepared to stand for it. I’m not going to let that be the way the world is. That’s what I’m saying. No, firing off a few shots wouldn’t have achieved anything, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have tried. And next time, I will.”

  It was another hour before Commissioner Peterson returned, and with Captain Crawford in tow.

  “Have you arrested him?” Olivia asked.

  “No,” the commissioner said. He sat, heavily. Crawford slumped into a chair at the next booth over.

  “What do you mean, no?” Olivia asked. “I want to press charges. I want Mack arrested for murder.”

  “I’m truly sorry about your friend,” Peterson said. “But there’s no evidence. It’s your word against his.”

  “But he’s lying. When we got here, I told you everything. I told you how he was working for Vevermee. Don’t you believe me?”

  “I do,” Peterson said. “But even by your own admission, your friend’s death was accidental.”

  “The guns Mack brought to my apartment were taken from a police officer,” Olivia said. “Mack stole them. That’s a crime.”

  “Jurisdiction,” Crawford said. “We don’t have it.”

  “That can’t matter now,” Pete said.

  “We don’t have evidence,” Crawford said. “And his friends saw you. He has friends.”

  “I don’t… why does that matter?” Olivia asked.

  “I mean you can’t go and take matters into your own hands,” Crawford said. “You do that, it will be murder.”

  “I wasn’t… I don’t… I want justice,” Olivia said. “You think I want to kill him?”

  “I’m saying you shouldn’t try,” Crawford said.

  “So that’s it? He’s being let go and I’m being warned off? He was with Vevermee, you know?”

  “And he admitted something of that,” Peterson said. “After the death of your roommate, he went looking for police, but the officers he found were killers. He said he fled as soon as he realised, and is citing his presence here, now, as proof.”

  “So is that it?” Olivia asked.

  “He’s being sent away as part of a group of reinforcements to a front-line fort,” Crawford said. “Odds are he’ll be dead by the end of the month.”

  “We sent a team of Special Forces to South Bend this morning,” Peterson said. “US Rangers. They are going to scout Lansing and Detroit in preparation for the General’s southward push. But
first, they’re going to deal with Vevermee, Herrera, and any other villain they find in the city. I’ll look carefully at the evidence they bring back, and I’ll know where to find Mr Mack if there’s a reckoning to be had.”

  “Assuming he’s still alive,” Crawford added.

  “You’ve already sent soldiers to South Bend?” Pete asked. “Does that mean we don’t need to go back there?”

  Before Peterson could answer, the door opened. Rufus bounded in and over to Olivia. More slowly, Corrie entered, Jerome MacDonald a step behind.

  “Jerome! You’re back,” Pete said.

  “I have a message for the general,” Jerome said.

  “And she’s not here, so you better give it to me,” Crawford said.

  Jerome handed it to the commissioner, who read it first, then handed it to Crawford.

  “You know what it says, Constable?” Peterson asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Jerome said. “They made me memorise it. The sun rises over Denver. I don’t know what it means, though.”

  “It’s an old Cold War code,” Peterson said. “And it is merely a confirmation of what we already suspected. Who was there when you were told?”

  “Admiral Carol Larkin, she says she’s the Prime Minister now, and a guy who said he was the Governor of Oregon. There were others there. Spooks and spies.”

  “And CIA, I expect,” Peterson said. “They didn’t send any with you?”

  “They said they’d dispatched their own team.”

  “And do you have orders for these three from Australia?” Peterson asked.

  “No, just a message to say their mission has been endorsed.”

  “We need to get this message to the general,” Crawford said. “Shall we send the constable?”

  “We can’t risk that plane near the front,” Peterson said. “Another Black Hawk arrived this morning. We can send the message aboard the helicopter; if the weather remains favourable, it has the range. But we’d better send a backup team by road.” He smiled and looked at Olivia. “You can drive, can’t you?”

  With instructions to report to the motor pool in thirty minutes, they were dismissed. In the few hours they’d been inside, bruised purple clouds had swarmed the horizon.