Riker's Apocalypse (Book 3): The Precipice

by Chesser, Shawn

  The galley-style kitchen was off to the right. Beyond the small kitchen, set up in front of the plywood-covered sliding door, was a glass-topped dining table and two chairs.

  The short, narrow hallway running straight off the living room, to what Riker guessed was Lia’s bedroom and the only bathroom in the joint, was covered by framed pictures of people enjoying the outdoors. The abundance of snow in the photos told Riker that Lia was a fan of winter sports.

  While Lia was in the other room, Riker got Shorty on the radio.

  “The kids in the pickup come back?”

  After a warble and short burst of squelch, Shorty said, “Negative. But we do have a few slow movers coming to investigate. I’ll handle them if they get too close. You’re good for a few more minutes, I’d guess.” There was a pause. Then Shorty snickered and asked, “What are you two doing in there, anyways?”

  Not surprised in the least by the juvenile question, Riker changed the subject. “You never did say how you scored yourself a six-figure ride.”

  “You didn’t ask,” Shorty said. “Thing set the previous owners back a cool quarter mil. Found the invoice in their belongings.”

  Riker said, “That’s a chunk of change. More than some homes.”

  Shorty came back right away. “You could say it fell in my lap. Started out as your classic damsel in distress thing. Young woman by the side of the road waving a gas can.”

  “With all that’s going on, you stopped for her?”

  “Of course I stopped,” Shorty said. “She was hot. And I had plenty of room in the Tahoe.”

  Riker said, “She was the distraction, right?”

  “Yep. When I stopped and ran my window down, her man showed up from behind the guardrail across the way. There was a creek beyond. And some trees. He was hiding out of sight, down the embankment.”

  “He was armed?”

  “Dumb shit had an old hunting rifle pointed at me. Found out after it all went down that he didn’t even have a round chambered.”

  “Did she draw on you?”

  Shorty chuckled. “She had a little .38 snubby revolver. Waving it around like a crazy person as she ordered me to get out. Must have seen Pulp Fiction one too many times.”

  “You shot her, didn’t you?”

  “While I was running the passenger window down, I hit the windshield wipers. Sprayed a good dose of the soap on the window so the boyfriend couldn’t see me. It was all the diversion I needed. Brought Shocky up over the window channel and blasted her. Snubby went flying from her hand. Her scalp went the other direction.”

  Riker said, “What did boyfriend do?”

  “He started moving toward my window,” Shorty said soberly. “So I shot him, too. Couple of bandits gone to meet their maker. No sweat off my sack.”

  “Where’d they have the EarthRoamer stashed?”

  “Behind a copse of trees just off the road. She was nearly out of fuel. Except for some ramen and a couple of cans of SpaghettiOs, the cupboards were empty. I got a feeling those two were worse at logistics than they were at highway robbery.”

  Riker cast a quick glance down the hall. Saw shadows flitting across the interior wall. Figuring Lia was changing to different clothes before seeing him out the door, he thumbed the Talk key and asked, “Where do you think they stole it?”

  “Paperwork from the glovebox leads me to believe it belonged to a retired couple from Michigan. All the blood I found in the camper suggests they were killed for it.”

  Riker said, “Too much of that going on.” He signed off. Pocketing the radio, he took a couple of tentative steps toward the hall entrance. New sounds coming from the doorway on the left made him think of someone stuffing clothes into an Army-issue duffel bag.

  Chapter 29

  When Lia emerged from her room at the rear of her tiny adobe home, Riker learned he wasn’t far off in his assessment of her stuffing things into an Army-issue duffel bag. She had changed into worn blue jeans and was shrugging a black overstuffed vest on over a gray Wellesley College sweatshirt. Slung over each shoulder was a large sports bag bearing the Olympic logo and the words Olympic Training Center, Lake Placid, New York.

  Clutched in her right hand was a long, narrow case. It was black and plastered with colorful stickers suggesting it had traveled all over the world.

  Riker said, “Looks like we have a change of plans.”

  Lia said, “Is that OK?”

  “I have to ask you a couple of questions. Might want to sit.”

  Lia set the bags down. She took a seat on the couch, a questioning look on her face.

  “Today is the first day you’ve been out and about since this thing started, right?”

  After a short uneasy silence, Lia nodded. “I finally ran out of food.” A slight tilt to her head, she asked, “What gave me away?”

  “There’s a week or so worth of dirt on your porch and stairs. If you had been going out on a regular basis there would be more than one set of tracks on your porch.”

  “While the story about me coming face to face with the zombie in the store was the truth, I’m not as adventurous as I led you to believe.”

  “Were you telling me the truth about the FEMA facility?”

  “Half-truth.”

  “What really happened?”

  “These three assholes ran me down with their car. Boxed me in by a bus stand. There was no way I could outrun them on my bike. Before I could dismount and make a break on foot, one of the guys had a gun on me.” Tears welled in her eyes. “I didn’t know what to do.”

  “Probably did the right thing,” Riker said. “You’re still breathing.” He was about to ask her what happened next when Shorty came on over the radio.

  “You two breaking in a new mattress?”

  Riker didn’t answer.

  Flashing a wan smile, Lia said, “Ask him if he wants to watch.”

  “We don’t want to get Shorty started. He’s a good guy, but he’s got a few rough edges.”

  “A few?”

  The look Riker gave her could mean only one thing: We are not done here. He said, “Then what happened?”

  She wiped the tears on a sleeve. “There were three of them. Two guys and a woman. They were all a few years older than me. Based on their clothes … early thirties, I’d guess. They were out scavenging. Car was full of food and stuff. One of the guys tied me up with a scarf. They left her holding a knife on me while they ranged ahead. They must have only had one gun among them because that’s all I saw. Just a little pistol.”

  “You don’t really have a gun under your mattress?”

  She shook her head. “No. But I keep my rifle under the bed.”

  Riker sighed. “So where’d the guys go off to?”

  “The FEMA facility was a block away. They were both wearing netting with leaves and twigs stuck everywhere.”

  “Ghillie suits,” Riker stated. “Snipers use them to stay hidden from the enemy. The foliage breaks up their silhouette. So the dead got the dumbasses and then she let you go?”

  Lia bit her lip. Speaking slowly, she said, “The guys were pretty stupid about it. They opened the gate and then sprinted across the street to hide. That was their entire plan. Last thing I saw was the two of them slipping into some bushes next to a short wall in front of the Park and Ride. I guess they were thinking the bush suits would fool the roamers. It didn’t. I heard one of them scream and then start calling for his mom. The other one emptied his gun into the things.”

  “He got away?”

  “Nope. He dropped it and curled into a ball on the ground. It was all over in seconds.”

  Riker picked up the bags, then beckoned for Lia to rise. “What happened to her?”

  “The guys dying freaked her out really bad. But not enough to let me go. She had more friends she wanted me to meet.” The tears were back, rolling down her cheeks and leaving dark spots on her sweatshirt. “I had already worked loose the end of the scarf she had tied around my wrists. When she looked aw
ay, I grabbed the knife.” She was shaking her head now. Fists balling up, she went on, saying: “We struggled in the front seat of the car for a bit. I was stronger. Turned the knife around and she got stabbed in the neck.”

  “She bled out?”

  “Thirty seconds and she was gone. Eyes open and just staring.”

  Riker said nothing. Just stood there in disbelief that the young woman was a killer.

  “The dead heard her scream,” Lia said. “They were coming. Half a block away. So I went around to her side and pulled her out. By this time she was already coming back. Reanimating is what I guess you could call it. She must have already been infected. Maybe she was hiding it from the guys. She seemed tentative around them anyway. Like maybe she’d been in my shoes at one time and they broke her down.”

  “As far as I know the only way to get the virus is to be bitten by one of the infected. You didn’t see any evidence she’d been bitten?”

  Lia shook her head. “Nothing. Then again, I didn’t check her for one. So I can’t be sure.”

  “You were on foot when I first saw you.” He paused, thinking. “Why not take their car?”

  She flashed him a sheepish look.

  Incredulous, Riker said, “You don’t know how to drive?”

  “I do. But not a stick shift. All I’ve ever driven have been automatics. Up until this situation, I biked everywhere.” She shook her head. “I tried. Couldn’t get it going.”

  Riker literally palmed his face. Peering through parted fingers, he said, “Let’s go. You can explain the long gun in the case and your Olympic ties once we’re underway.”

  “I can come? Even though I lied to you?”

  Riker nodded. “I think you and Tara and Rose are going to get along just fine.”

  She said, “Shorty?”

  Riker said, “Leave Shorty to me.”

  Lia stopped Riker by the door. “I have something else to tell you.”

  Brows arched, Riker said, “What is it?”

  She took a key off a nearby shelf. It was all by itself on a plain ring. She said, “I was supposed to be checking the mail for the Lins up the street. Turning their porch light on and off each day while they were vacationing in Chicago.”

  Riker said, “Power’s been out for a couple of weeks. I’m sure the mail delivery ceased for good about the same time.”

  Lia said, “Finding food was high on your list.” She sighed. “The Lins have five kids. Two of them were away at college. Of the three who are still at home, two are teenage boys. Plus … don’t take this the wrong way, they’re Mormons. I’m pretty sure they have a fully stocked pantry. At least they’re supposed to, right?”

  “I don’t know about all that. I didn’t know any in Indiana.” He parted the curtains and checked the street. Clear. Regarding Lia, he went on. “So you think they actually went on their trip and didn’t make it home?” This caused Riker to think about what New York looked like just days after the terrorist attack that started the outbreak in Manhattan. If the Lins were in Chicago when it went down, the only way they were getting back to New Mexico was in a rental car. Planes were grounded early on. It was also highly likely passenger trains had been sidelined so the DoD could rail vital pieces of armor and command vehicles to flashpoints of infection.

  “I wasn’t here the day they were supposed to leave. I was still in the mountains.” She took a deep breath. “I honestly have no idea if they went on their trip.”

  “Are their cars in the driveway?”

  She nodded. “That doesn’t mean much, though. They usually take an Uber or call a taxi van to take them to the airport.”

  Riker looked at the ceiling and exhaled. “I see what you’re getting at. You think they could still be in there. Hunkered down with all their food and hoping to ride this out.”

  “Or—” she began.

  “One of them became infected and the house is now full of biters,” he finished.

  She said, “Exactly. But I couldn’t summon the courage to go up the street to check on them.”

  “Then let’s do it together.”

  Lia cocked her head. It was clear there was a battle being waged inside her. After a few seconds, she closed her eyes and bowed her head. “OK. We can knock. We knock and see if anything is in there. See who or what comes to the door.”

  Nodding, Riker radioed ahead to inform the others of the sudden change in plans.

  Chapter 30

  Trinity House

  From the living room to the bottom of the steep, narrow run of stairs, Tara guessed she had descended at least twenty feet. The stair treads wore a thin layer of dust that had gone undisturbed until Rose had ventured down. The dust and cobwebs suggested to Tara that the room hadn’t been visited in a long while.

  Whereas the grand living room above Tara’s head was circular, the wide-open space before her was rectangular, with the wall the stairs were anchored to being one of the short sides of the rectangle.

  The wall to Tara’s fore was taken up by eight cathode-ray tube television monitors. A long shelf below the wall-mounted monitors was cluttered with desktop computers and all manner of electronic components whose purpose she didn’t immediately recognize.

  As Tara waited for Rose to join her at the bottom of the stairs, she let her gaze wander the room. Plastic milk crates filled with books and papers were scattered about the poured cement floor. The wall behind her, a counterpart to the one bristling with monitors, was plastered with maps and newspaper articles. The articles seemed to be assembled in chronological order. One headline from the mid-80s screamed about a major stock market plunge that was purported to be the downfall of the United States as a major world power. Another detailed the lightning invasion of Kuwait by Saddam’s forces. Next to it was a full-page spread with a photo showing dozens of American tanks assembled and awaiting the beginning of Operation Desert Storm. Near the midpoint of the wall were clippings of the bombing of the Marine barracks in Beirut, Lebanon. Another spoke of the terrorist attack on the U.S.S. Cole and showed a photo of the badly damaged destroyer which had been attacked in 2000 while refueling in the port of Aden in Yemen.

  A full third of the wall was dedicated to the 9/11 attacks and our Nation’s response to that awful day in American history. Tara was especially moved by a front-page photo showing the towers burning after being hit by the second passenger jet.

  Dead center on the same wall was a square sign warning against the dreaded Y2K bug. Someone had drawn a black X across the sign. Funny, thought Tara, because, at the time, both of her late parents had been especially concerned about a societal collapse resulting from the dreaded coding anomaly that had been poised to affect computer operating systems the world over.

  Large clocks, each displaying a different time in red digital numerals, were mounted at uniform intervals high up on the wall. The first four were set to the United States’ time zones and labeled Pacific - Los Angeles, Mountain - Santa Fe, Central - Chicago, and Eastern - Washington D.C. Clock number five was set to Moscow time. The clock taking center stage was labeled Greenwich, England - Zulu Time. The other clocks were also labeled and displaying the current times in Berlin, West Germany; Jerusalem, Israel; Riyadh, Saudi Arabia; Seoul, South Korea; Beijing, China; and Canberra, Australia.

  On the wall underneath the clock showing Zulu time was a small, square sign bearing the easily identifiable radiation symbol known as a trefoil.

  All of the evidence Tara had seen so far led her to believe the place was indeed a panic room, only the particular reason for panic wasn’t necessarily of the two-legged variety. This hundred-by-fifty-foot cement tomb was to serve one purpose: save whoever had designed it from the immediate effects of a nearby nuclear detonation.

  Reaching the bottom step, Rose said, “Cool space, huh? What do you think? Was this a CIA safe house or something?”

  Tara shook her head. “Nope,” she said matter-of-factly, “it’s a fallout shelter. Judging by the fact that one of the clocks is dedicated
to West Germany, it’s been here a long time. It may have been here long before the house was built.”

  Hands on hips, Rose said, “Pretty impressive.”

  Tara said, “Agreed. It’s pretty low on tech, though.” Figuring the televisions were top of the line in the year 2000, she crunched some numbers. “I wasn’t even voting age when those televisions were new.”

  Rose said, “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

  “Good point,” Tara said. She glanced at the top of the stairs. Dozer was there, peering down at them. Clearly, his short legs and the high-rising stairs were not a good match. Regarding Rose, she said, “I guess in realtor speak this would be considered a bonus room.” Rose shrugged. “Seeing as how our agent didn’t mention it,” Tara added, “I’m good calling it a freebie room.”

  Pointing toward the concrete ceiling some ten feet over their heads, Rose said, “When I was down here earlier, I noticed these pipes. What are they for?”

  Tara shielded her eyes against the fluorescent lights. “Clean air? Water?” she speculated. “I bet Lee would know.”

  Rose said, “We should call him.”

  “When he called earlier, he said he was on the edge of his radio’s reach. They’re well out of range by now,” Tara answered. Eyes following the pipes, she walked the length of the room, then stopped before a large oak desk pushed up against the wall furthest from the stairs. All of the pipes converged above the desk and disappeared into the wall.

  “Those have got to be for bringing clean air in. I bet there’s one for purging the bad air. Wires are probably routed through another of the pipes.”

  Rose said nothing. She seemed fixated on a bookshelf brimming with well-worn paperbacks.

  Tara regarded the desk before her. Instead of the usual office accoutrements, the desktop was home to books, piles of gun and hunting magazines, and what looked like more maps. She stooped and brushed dust from the map atop the pile. She waved the dancing motes from her face, then let her eyes roam the map.