I’d been on the base a few times as a child—after making friends with Air Force children—and expected Bill to turn left so he could head to base housing, but he didn’t. Instead, he veered to the right, heading for the flight line.
Where once they had been majestic, time had taken its toll on the planes. Weather, age, and neglect had worn them away until they looked like artifacts from an ancient world that no longer existed—which was exactly what they were. Still, there was something regal about seeing the aircraft lined up, like getting a glimpse of a king in a nursing home. He’d aged and was more worn than you remembered, but he was still a king. Still regal.
The once meticulously maintained runway was now as cracked and pitted as every other road in the world. Weeds, grass, and even a few small trees had broken through, making the blacktop resemble a field more than a runway.
Kellan’s arm was still around me, but we were both up on our knees, straining to get a better look as Bill drove across the base, heading for wherever he called home. The hangars were still intact, for the most part, as were many of the buildings we passed, and except for a couple broken windows and some missing shingles, things on this side of the base seemed to have fared pretty well over the last nine years.
The truck slowed to a stop outside the closed door of one of the hangars, and Kellan and I climbed to our feet, holding onto the roof while we waited to see what was going to happen. Built to fit the massive cargo planes, the hangar towered over us, the doors as tall as the building itself, the walls steel and seemingly impenetrable.
A minute passed and Bill did nothing, and I was about to lean over so I could yell at him through the open driver’s side window when the hangar’s doors started to slide open.
“I’ll be damned,” Kellan muttered.
When we met Bill only a couple days ago, he’d told us he was alone. I’d believed him, partly because he was alone that day, but also because he had that kind of face. The kind you wanted to trust. The kind that made him seem like the fatherly type who would swoop in and save you if you were in trouble. Only, we were now staring at proof that he’d lied, because the door in front of us was being pulled open by a man and a woman, and behind them more people milled around the interior of the hangar.
Bill pulled the truck through the open door, driving slowly enough that Kellan and I didn’t need to sit back down. There were at least a dozen people in the building. Children, an old woman, and a handful of people—both male and female—who looked to be between the ages of twenty and forty. Who knew how many others, because the back of the plane was open, and I could tell that was where they’d been living. Inside the C-17.
“He lied to us,” I said as Bill pulled to a stop.
“Can you blame him?” Kellan asked.
“No,” I replied, “not necessarily, but it has to give us pause. Can we trust him?”
Kellan was nodding and looking around, taking in our surroundings. Four kids sat at a table eating with the old woman, who had to be eighty years old, and talking her ears off. Two people, a man and a woman, were hanging clothes on a line to dry while another man and woman worked to get the door shut, and with each passing second more people seemed to come out of the woodwork and head over to greet us, all smiles and surprised looks, but no weapons. Not the least bit threatening.
Bill threw the driver’s side door open and hopped out, grinning. “Welcome!”
“This is a bit of a surprise,” I said.
“Because I told you I was alone?” Again, more smiling, more shining eyes that made him appear sweet and trustworthy.
“It makes sense,” Kellan said with hesitation. “But you can understand our concern.”
Bill’s group now surrounded us, and I had a sudden and terrifying flashback to an episode of The Walking Dead when the survivors encountered a friendly and welcoming group who turned out to be cannibals. My mom had forbidden Matt and me to watch the show, but Kellan’s parents hadn’t cared. Plus, he’d had a TV in his room—complete with a DVR. It was only natural for us to go over to Kellan’s house every Monday after school so we could watch the banned show about the end of the world.
Never in my wildest dreams had I thought I’d one day have to live it out, though.
“Terminus,” I whispered out of the corner of my mouth.
Not quiet enough, because Bill belted out a laugh and lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender. “We’re not going to eat you, I promise.”
His people joined in the laughter.
It was like meeting a band of jolly survivors.
8
Bill turned out to be living with a group of twenty-one other survivors, many of them either children or young enough that they would have been children when the world ended nine years ago.
“Where did they all come from?” I asked in awe, scanning the hangar as Bill showed us around.
“Here and there.” Bill looked over his shoulder, his eyes twinkling like he had a fun secret to share. “Most of them were military kids. Back in the beginning, after I realized I was immune, it occurred to me that there might be a lot of kids left on their own. Even worse, they weren’t from here. Didn’t have family or maybe even friends in the area who might have survived and could look after them. So, I borrowed my neighbor’s van and headed over to base housing. Went from house to house looking for survivors.”
He stopped next to the table where the four children sat eating, their voices, high-pitched and energetic, bounced off the metal walls as they giggled and talked between bites. They were young, between nine and eleven years old, meaning they hadn’t been kids when Bill rescued them, but babies and toddlers.
“These were the youngest.” Bill swept his hand toward the kids. “Jack and Jill were infants. Twins.” He shot me a grin. “That’s what I named them, anyway. I didn’t know their real names, didn’t want to take the time searching the house when there were other people to rescue, so that’s what I decided to call them.”
The kids, only nine years old, looked up at me with big, brown eyes, their smiles friendly and open and innocent the way only a child’s could be. They had identical wavy, brown hair that went down to their shoulders, but Jill’s cheeks were fuller and her lips more feminine, while her brother had a large, thin-lipped mouth.
Bill put his hand on the shoulder of the girl next to Jack, who was a little older than the twins. She had mocha skin and brown eyes that slanted slightly in the corners, suggesting one of her parents might have been Asian.
“This here is Tiana, named for my niece’s favorite movie, The Princess and the Frog. I found her alone in a house with no sign of where her parents had gone. Not sure how old she was, though. Old enough to cry and walk toward me with her arms open when I stepped into the house.”
Tiana smiled at Bill like he was a superhero but said nothing, and he gave her shoulder a squeeze before turning to the final kid. “Then we have Stephen.” Bill’s eyes twinkled when he shot me another wink. “His real name since he could actually talk. I found Stephen sitting on the floor next to his parents’ bed eating some stale crackers. They had both passed, and I don’t think he knew what to do with himself. He told me he was three.”
Stephen, who was lanky and tall for a twelve-year-old, had jet black hair and gray eyes that seemed ancient in his unlined face.
“You saved these kids?” Harper asked, awed.
Bill’s smile widened. “Not just them. I saved eleven kids in all, only the others aren’t kids anymore.” He turned away from the table, jerking his head to indicate we should follow. “I’ll introduce you.”
He led us around the room, introducing us to his group, and to me it seemed like the list of people he’d saved was never-ending. There was sixteen-year-old Mason who Bill had found wandering down the street at the age of seven, and sisters Becky and Tracy who’d been only nine and eleven when the rest of their family died. Thomas had been eight, and Michael twelve, then there were two others, James who was now twenty-one, and Diane who wa
s twenty-four.
Bill kept talking while I focused on Diane. I couldn’t help it. She was gorgeous, with skin bronzed from the sun and a splash of freckles on her nose, as well as across her chest. She had her caramel hair pulled up in a ponytail, but a few tendrils had escaped and hung around her heart-shaped face, and when she smiled at me, her brown eyes sparkled.
She was twenty-four years old, about the right age for Blake…
I almost laughed at myself, thinking about playing matchmaker during the apocalypse when we had so many other things to worry about, but I couldn’t help it. He’d been bordering on depressed since things with Emma ended, and now there was a beautiful woman standing right in front of me like Bill had saved her especially for Blake.
Kellan elbowed me and whispered, “I know what you’re thinking.”
“No, you don’t,” I muttered while heat moved up my cheeks.
He chuckled in response.
Bill left Diane behind so he could introduce us to the rest of the group, still talking as he went. He seemed to always be talking. There was the elderly lady who’d been sitting at the table with the kids—Lilith—and the granddaughter she’d been living with when the apocalypse hit, Janet, who was now in her forties, as well as four other survivors whose ages ranged from early forties to mid-fifties.
The final two survivors we found on the other side of the hangar where they were busy tending to a couple goats. Two women, one in her early twenties and another who looked to be in her mid-forties. Both women were tall and lean with dark skin and high cheekbones and hair cut close to the scalp, and they were clearly related.
The older of the two smiled when we approached, beaming not only at us, but at Bill as well.
“This is my family,” he said when he stopped next to them, his smile as wide as the woman’s. “My wife, Jessica, and my daughter, Christine.”
The announcement caught me by surprise. For one, Bill must have been older than he looked if he had a daughter Christine’s age, or he’d started really young, but I was also shocked to learn that both his wife and daughter had survived the virus. What were the odds? Probably about as good as being immune to a bite, because I didn’t know anyone whose entire family had survived, not when it had killed almost eighty-five percent of the population.
I wasn’t the only one shocked by the news, either. Harper’s mouth was hanging open, while next to me Kellan let out a low whistle.
Cade was the first to find his voice. “All three of you survived?”
Bill nodded, and his chest puffed out like a proud father. “We did. I don’t know how we got so lucky or why I deserved to be spared the pain everyone else went through nine years ago, but I know I’m grateful for it. That was part of the reason I went searching for kids. I felt like I’d survived for a reason, and while I didn’t know what that reason was, I decided helping others was the first step to paying the big man back.”
God. After everything that had happened, Bill still believed in God. He and Emma would get along.
When Harper had recovered from her shock, she threw her arms around Bill. It was an unexpected reaction, considering how introverted and quiet she’d been over the last few weeks, barely opening up about anything even after she and I spent all day together. Then she pulled back, her hands still on Bill’s arms, and I saw the expression on her face and the tears shimmering in her eyes, and it hit me why she’d responded this way. She was seventeen years old, had only been eight when she lost everything, and she could relate to the kids he’d saved more than any of us. She knew how lost they’d felt and what a relief it must have been to find someone good who was willing to help them.
“You’re an amazing person,” she whispered, her voice ragged with emotion.
Bill, whose own eyes had filled with tears, cleared his throat. “It wasn’t enough. Not by a long shot. A day doesn’t pass that I don’t wish I could’ve done more. There were houses I went to where—” He voice broke and he looked down. “I couldn’t save everyone.”
I thought of everything he’d probably witnessed, of the pain his search had most likely brought, and tears filled my eyes.
Back when the virus swept the country, we had no idea what it was really going to bring us. Death, yes, but zombies? No one could have guessed that. People died by the millions, and we’d all thought that was the worst of it, only it wasn’t, because two days later the dead came back, except now they were the walking dead. Creatures that roamed the earth searching for human flesh. Human themselves, and yet not human at the same time. It was the unthinkable. Something we’d all seen in fiction, but something that none of us could have ever predicted could come true.
How many children had found themselves trapped inside their homes when their parents came back?
My stomach turned at the thought.
“The kids were lucky to have you,” Kellan said.
He slipped his arm around me, and I leaned into him, knowing I’d had my own stroke of luck back then. Without Kellan, I would have felt lost and alone. Shell-shocked. I don’t know if I would have left my house, or if I would have had the energy to fight my family off when they came back, and I couldn’t even think about it, not after all these years.
I’d gotten lucky, too.
Maybe Emma and Bill were on to something with this God thing. Maybe He did have some kind of plan.
After meeting everyone, Bill took us inside the plane. They’d separated the cargo area into individual living spaces using the kind of dividers that used to be found in offices. There were beds inside the cubicles, some cots and twin beds the survivors had clearly scavenged from houses, as well as personal items. Pictures, faded from time, were tacked to walls, and pages torn from old magazines—several of them making me blush. There were books piled up, and toys, as well as clothes, shoes, and other items that had no meaning to me but probably carried deep value to the owners. An ache moved through me at the intimacy of these small trinkets.
When Kellan and I left our houses, we’d packed supplies, but I’d never thought to take pictures or grab anything from my room that would help me remember the past. We’d headed out hoping to find a safe place and had gotten so caught up in surviving that by the time Jasper found us, having a picture of my parents and Matt seemed useless. I’d seen horrible things. People getting ripped apart by zombies, humans hurting each other in unimaginable ways, blood and death and hate and rage. What good was a picture?
Then things settled down, and the idea of going back had hurt too much. Kellan and I had driven by our houses dozens of times, but we never got out of the car, because I ached from just thinking about seeing my house that way. What if my parents were still there? What if Matt was? I wasn’t sure if I would survive it.
Now, though, passing the pictures of smiling people who were long gone, I ached for what I’d lost. I thought I could remember what my parents looked like, thought I could picture Matt’s grin when he rolled his eyes at me, but what if I was wrong? What if the images in my head weren’t real, but instead something my mind had clung to? Bits and pieces of other people I’d known and loved patched together like some Frankenstein memory of my family.
“I was sure to take pictures from the home of every kid I found,” Bill said as we passed yet another cubicle with yet another montage of smiling faces. “These kids will never know their parents, but at least they know what they looked like.”
“That’s nice,” Harper whispered, her eyes once again moist.
“Most people wouldn’t have thought of that,” Kellan said, and I wondered if he, too, was regretting what we hadn’t done all those years ago.
“In my former life, I don’t know if I would have thought of it,” Bill replied thoughtfully, “but the virus changed me. Made me appreciate what I had. Before, I’d always been so focused on my career. I was a black man in a white man’s world.” He chuckled and shook his head. “It’s true, but it’s still strange to think what a big role race used to play in this world. Now it’s people
and zombies. That’s it.” He shook his head again like he still couldn’t believe it. “Back then I was very career oriented. There weren’t a lot of black pilots in the Air Force, and I was determined to stand out. To be better than the best. I neglected my family more than I should have, and Jessica and I were on the verge of calling it quits. Then the virus came, and it put everything into perspective.” We reached the back of the plane, and he stopped walking, turning to face us. “Now I’m determined to be the best human being possible. That’s it. That’s all I can hope to be in this world, and I’ve come to realize it’s so much bigger than all my former goals combined.”
This man awed me with his selflessness. Since the world collapsed and started over, I’d met all kinds of people. Assholes, opportunists, and people who were good but still had no problem getting their hands dirty if it meant surviving. But I’d never met anyone like Bill. He was like the Mother Teresa of the apocalypse.
He waved to a cubicle in front of him, and then to one at his back. “I have two recently vacated rooms, as well as a couple bunks up in the cockpit. You’re welcome to any of those beds. Get something to eat and some rest.” He looked me over and smiled. “Although, you might want to get cleaned up first. We have a shower set up in the far corner of the hangar, and thanks to all the rain, we’re doing good on water. I’m sure we can scrounge up some replacement clothes if you need them, too.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“We can pay you back,” Kellan told Bill. “After we get back to our shelter.”
“It’s no problem.” The way Bill shook his head told me he was being sincere. “We help out where we can, especially when we come across good people. They’re rare these days, but I can usually tell pretty fast if a person is worth my time.” He grinned at Kellan. “I knew you were the second I pulled up, because you put yourself in front of Regan. That may seem like a small thing, but it isn’t. Trust me.”
The Oklahoma Wastelands Series Box Set | Books 1-3 Page 37
