— 10 —
Lost Valley
“What are we holding onto, Sam?”
“That there’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it’s worth fighting for.”
— The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers
“John, one of the women is able to talk,” Chris Reedy’s expression left no doubt that he was needed immediately.
Carver nodded and finished pressing another .30-caliber bullet into the .556 cutdown casing, creating a custom .300 Blackout round. The 110-grain, .308 diameter, polymer-tipped projectile was much lighter than his normal 220-grain, subsonic ammunition. What they lacked in weight, they made up for in speed and penetration.
Carver had wanted to try a fast, high-impact bullet after their first encounter with the armored juveniles. His shotgun had slain the two closest ones. The others had taken nearly half a magazine each to kill as both Shader and Keele emptied their rifles on the speedy creatures. That was unacceptable. Hopefully, these bullets would pierce the hard shell better than the M4 rounds did.
“Where’s Shrek?” Chris asked.
“With Kyle,” Carver replied. “One of the Freedom’s crew is with Morales and the boys, training them on the new SuperCobra. It seems that one of them is going to try and qualify as Everly’s weapons officer.”
It had been a few days since they’d recovered the women from North Island. The two adults had been malnourished and severely dehydrated. The teenage girl had been in better physical shape, but she’d spun in and out of consciousness as the IV drips and rest nurtured them back to health. They’d all been through significant mental trauma.
Carver grabbed his nearby rifle. It was never more than a few feet from him.
“Has she said anything?” Carver asked.
“She asked about the teenager and then we told her how we found them. The girl is her daughter, so we moved their beds together.”
Carver followed the camp’s medic into one of the bedrooms they’d created a few months back. The large, metal structure used to be the camp’s maintenance building. After they had been attacked by a horde of Variants, they’d converted it into a common dormitory. Metal walls gave them a much better chance of survival than the camp’s tents.
They knocked on the door and were let in by Chris’s wife, Laura. She was one of the camp females who had volunteered to sit with the survivors as they recovered.
“Hey,” Carver whispered.
Laura smiled and nodded to the conscious woman. “She’s awake and wants to thank you for saving her daughter.”
Carver walked up to the bed and gently cleared his throat. “Hi,” he said softly.
The woman was lying next to the teenager, her left hand holding the young girl’s. She turned and gave Carver a tired smile. “Do I have you to thank?”
“I was there,” Carver said.
She patted the edge of her mattress with her free right hand. “Please.”
Carver gently sat as she lifted the hand for him to take. He wrapped his large fingers around hers.
“You’re John Carver, right?”
Carver nodded.
“I’m Pam,” she began. “Thank you… For everything. For saving my daughter and rescuing us.”
Carver smiled. “You’re welcome.”
“I’ve heard stories about you. Some of these nice people were talking about how you killed those creatures. You’re that guy.”
Carver was about to reply, but Pam’s face told him to let her continue.
“I heard you could’ve stayed hidden and snuck away. But you didn’t. You came for us. Not many people would’ve done that.”
“Please. I wasn’t the only one.”
“Maybe. But I heard you stood up to that monster. The big one that could talk. You made it give us to you. You stood in front of it and didn’t back down.”
Carver remained silent as his cheeks began to turn pink. “I just did what I had to do,” he finally said.
“You could have turned away, but you didn’t. Why is that?”
“What else was I supposed to do?”
Pam smiled and squeezed his hand. “That’s what makes you that guy.” She sighed. “That’s what makes you special. Thank you.”
A few awkward moments went by before Pam dropped her hand back to the bed. “I’m sorry. I’m tired.”
“We’ll talk later,” Laura Reedy said. “Get some rest.”
Carver and Chris left the room and stood outside in the common area. Everyone was out working to make the camp better. They stood alone.
“She’s right,” Chris said. “That’s why we look to you.”
Carver sighed. “It’s not like I want this.”
“I know. But you do it anyway. Like she said, that’s what makes you that guy.” Chris patted him on the shoulder. “I need to get back in there and change some IV bags. She should be ready to talk some more tomorrow morning.”
Chris grabbed a couple pouches of saline and went back to his patients, leaving John alone.
John finally returned to his workbench to finish making his custom bullets. He counted each grain of powder before pressing the head onto the casing. Every round he created was treated with precision because any of them could be the one to save someone else’s life.
Toward the end of the afternoon, he had another three hundred rounds completed. They were loaded into ten magazines, which were then distributed onto his battle belt or into his assault pack. When he finished, he went back out onto the porch and sat down on his plastic cushioned couch.
He leaned back and closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of life around him. The occasional voice could be heard as several people were working in the nearby field. Laughter came from Beckham Hall, where school was about to finish for the day.
This was life. This was what he and the others fought for. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to protect it all.
Carver sighed. He would fight to keep them all safe or die trying. Either way, it was just who he was.
— 11 —
Lost Valley
Beckham Hall
“No one saves us but ourselves.
No one can and no one may. We ourselves must walk the path.”
― Buddha
Carver and Shader sat at the table, planning the day’s events while Kinney shoveled another plate of rehydrated scrambled eggs and bacon bits into his mouth. Gonzalez appeared with a plate of food and made a beeline to their table with Lazzaro and Keele behind him, pushing and pinching each other.
“Find another table. This one’s for operators,” Shader barked.
“Why? We’re Marines, just like Kinney,” Gonzalez complained.
“He’s put in his twenty and was smart enough to survive it. You three clowns find another spot, or I’ll shove my boot up your butts.”
“Come on,” Keele said. “We know when we’re not wanted.”
“If that was true, I’d never see your sorry asses!” Shader shouted at the retreating young men.
Carver gave him a look.
“Those idiots were up in the middle of the night screwing with the maintenance guy from the Freedom. I had to gently remind them of the hour. They’re lucky to be alive.” Shader took a bite of his eggs and shook his head. “Honestly, it’s like having a house full of children. It makes me glad I never got married,” Shader added before taking a gulp of his black coffee.
The universal sound of wood slapping wood drew everyone’s attention to the screen door entrance. It was the three survivors, helped along by Laura Reedy and Jennifer Blevins.
“Ladies and gentlemen. This is Pam Gilbert and her daughter Tawny. And this is Barbara Hershey,” Laura said, pointing out all three to the group.
Hope came out of the kitchen, along with her friend Randy Thomas, and gently hugged them.
The rest of the camp survivors all rose and began to softly clap their hands. They moved to the new survivors and welcomed the three women.
Hope led them over to Carver’s table and
sat them down.
“This is Master Chief Shader. He was with John when you were rescued.”
“Thank you, Master Chief,” Pam said.
“Thanks,” Barb and Tawny added.
Shader smiled and nodded. “No problem, ladies. And please, just call me Porky.”
Tawny giggled, but quickly stopped when her mother gave her an under-the-table squeeze on her thigh.
“That’s all right. We laugh at Porky’s name, too,” Kinney said with a smirk.
“That’s right,” Porky said with a sinister grin as he stared darts at Kinney for the backhanded remark. “And few have survived that privilege.”
“And what’s your name?” Barb asked.
“Harold Kinney.”
“Are you in the Army too?”
Shader snorted as he took a forkful of eggs.
“No, ma’am. I’m a Marine. I mean, I retired a few years ago after twenty years.”
“Once a Marine, always a Marine.” Pam Gilbert smiled, then a dark curtain passed over her face.
“My dad is a Marine,” Tawny said after seeing her mother’s reaction. “He was on Okinawa, the last we heard.”
The group became quiet. The sound of the other survivors murmured in the background as the clink of forks on plates mixed with the low hum of muted conversations.
“We haven’t heard anything from overseas,” Kinney said, breaking the silence. “He could still be trying to get back home.”
“Maybe,” Tawny said, giving him a grateful, but doubtful smile.
“He was a captain in the 3/5,” Pam added.
“Really?” Carver said. “A Darkhorse, huh? I ran across them in Afghanistan.”
Tawny’s father was part of a group that had suffered the most casualties of the Afghan war. Of the thousand or so Marines in his company, over two hundred were killed or wounded. If a unit suffered a twenty-percent loss, many considered it combat-ineffective. The Darkhorse Marines had pushed through those losses and secured their goals, wiping out the Taliban in their area of operation.
“You did?” Tawny said hopefully, perking up for the first time.
“They were a bad-ass group,” Carver said, before catching himself and his language. “Oh. Sorry.”
“That’s all right,” Tawny said, smiling. “I’ve heard a lot worse. My dad’s a Marine.”
“Damn right,” Kinney added.
“He’d have been a lieutenant back then,” Tawny said, her eyes brightening.
“Yeah? Shrek and I were in the area.”
“Did you meet my dad?”
“I met a lot of Marines,” Carver said. “But I could have. We were there for a few months, helping to clear out some poppy fields the Taliban used to fund their war effort.”
“Did you hear that, Mom? He might have known Daddy.”
“I’ll bet he did,” Pam agreed, letting her daughter have a little happiness and hope. Chances were they had never crossed paths.
Hope gave Carver a grateful smile and turned to the three women. “Can you handle some scrambled eggs?”
“I think so,” Barb said.
“How about some tortillas and bacon bits?” Randy asked.
“I don’t know about the bacon,” Pam said. “But the tortillas sound good.”
“We’ll be right back,” Randy said as he and Hope moved to the kitchen.
“Is that coffee?” Barb asked. “I haven’t smelled that in so long.”
“You want some?” Kinney asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe a little. Do you have cream and sugar?”
“Powdered cream. If you want me to, I’ll make you a cup.”
Barb smiled. “Would you?”
“Anyone else?” Kinney asked.
The other two shook their heads and politely declined.
Kinney popped up and almost sprinted to the back, where a small table sat with a coffee dispenser and condiments.
Carver gave Shader a look. Neither had seen the old Marine move so fast.
After he’d returned with the hot java, they fell into a quiet conversation. The three women wanted to know about the camp and how they’d survived over the last seven months.
Kinney immediately started to talk, so Shader and Carver sat back and let the Marine tell their story. Randy and Hope joined them a few moments later with three plates of food and listened as Harold wrote the Lost Valley story with a remarkably captivating narrative.
“So, we sealed the Variants in the cave, and we haven’t seen one since. At least, until Carver and Shader came back from the naval base,” Kinney said, finishing his tale.
He sat next to Barb the whole time, once interrupting the story to get her more coffee. Barbara seemed to appreciate the attention.
“And you give me shit for journaling,” Carver said. “That wasn’t a half bad narrative.”
“I know,” Barb said. “I felt like I was there.”
“Me too,” Tawny Gilbert agreed. “You’re really good at telling a story.”
Kinney blushed. Both Shader and Carver cracked a smile and looked away for fear of earning the old Marine’s wrath.
“So, tell us about you,” Hope said.
Both women looked at each other while Tawny sat back and looked down.
“Well, where should I start?” Pam finally said.
“At the beginning,” Kinney said. “Where you were when it all went down and go from there.”
Pam sat quietly and collected herself. She glanced at Barb, then her daughter who nodded.
“We were at SeaWorld,” Pam said.
Seven Months Earlier
SeaWorld
San Diego
“Mom. I’m hungry,” Tawny whined.
It started out as a typical Sunday. After going to church, Pam and Tawny always spent the afternoon together, making sure they had plenty of mother-daughter time. In a couple more years, Pam knew Tawny wouldn’t want her around. Years after that, Pam knew their relationship would mature, and they’d become friends. Until then, Pam vowed to enjoy her role as a mother.
That day, they drove to SeaWorld. They’d been there all afternoon. Pam hadn’t worried about the reports of a flu virus. She felt comfortable going to the park, since it had only been reported in Chicago the night before.
“Oh, Mom. Look! A baby penguin!” Tawny shouted, pointing at a crèche of youngsters that were huddled together. A doting and protective adult stood nearby.
“You always liked the penguins,” Pam said with a smile.
The Penguin Encounter was one of Pam’s go-to spots, especially in the summer. The air-conditioned enclosures ensured that the attraction was a cool break from the hot sun.
Several employees were inside the glass enclosure. Two of them holding out small fish. Amazingly, none of the flightless creatures were taking the food. Instead, they were squawking and bouncing about, ignoring the handlers and their meal. Pam hadn’t seen them so agitated before.
“I want to see the manatee,” Tawny announced. “Let’s go!”
Pam continued to watch the handlers struggle to feed their charges. No matter how hard they tried, none of the penguins would eat their food.
“Come on, Mom!” the fourteen-year-old said.
“Sometimes you act like you’re a still a child,” Pam said as Tawny pulled her away from the window.
They began to walk outside, when an announcement blared from a nearby speaker.
“Attention. We are closing the park in thirty minutes. Please make your way to the exit. Again, the park is closing in thirty minutes. SeaWorld would like to thank you for making our day as enjoyable as yours has been.”
“It’s not even five yet,” Tawny complained. The park was supposed to be open until seven.
“I know, baby. But it’s time to go.”
They joined an ever increasingly large crowd as they shuffled toward the park’s main gate.
“I want to see the manatee. We have time,” Tawny pled. She had a manatee toy from a visit almost ten years
earlier. It was her favorite stuffed animal.
Pam checked her watch. They still had twenty minutes until the park closed.
“They’ve probably put them to bed,” Pam said, trying to nudge her daughter toward the park’s exit.
“Let’s go look. It can’t hurt, right?”
“Sure. But for just a few minutes.”
Just around the corner from the penguin enclosure, they found the Wild Arctic exhibit. They turned into the building and passed under a metal banner. A domestic car company sponsored the attraction. They moved to an open pool, where a couple of white beluga whales swam together. Pam noticed there were no attendants. They stood and watched the pair dance together in the icy water.
“Come on, Tawny. We have to go.”
“No. Just another minute. The manatees are right around the corner.”
They worked their way to a large, darkened room. Thick glass separated them from a cold pool of water, which covered the lower half of the shatterproof window. The large sea cows floated below the surface, occasionally rising to take a breath of air before descending again to feed on the subsurface vegetation. The water was tinted a greenish blue and white. Ice-like concrete projections shot down from the surface, giving the scene an alien feel. The manatees seemed to hover, like an outer space creature, floating without gravity. Shadows danced and glinted as the overhead clouds plied across the sky. The scene was mesmerizing.
The teenager pressed her face against the window, staring at the gentle creatures as they floated effortlessly in front of her. “They’re beautiful.”
Her daughter’s whispered comment broke Pam’s trance. Listening carefully, Pam realized there was no one else in the building. She became concerned and put her hand on Tawny’s shoulder.
“Time to go.”
They moved through the hallways, which were built to look like an arctic cave or mineshaft. The gift shop and exit shone ahead, but when the pair got there, it was abandoned.
Pam had never seen the place empty. There was something wrong. She checked her watch and saw that they still had five minutes until closing.
Where is everyone? she thought. She grabbed her daughter’s hand and pulled her along. “Come on. We have to go.”
Extinction Survival Series (Book 3): Cost of Survival Page 9
