Last Stand: Book 3 in the Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Survival Series: (The Last City - Book 3)

by Kevin Partner

  A voice emerged from the static. "This is Ezekiel. Respond."

  McAndrew held the handset to his lips and pressed the button. "This is Jeremiah, acknowledging your call sign. Over."

  "I did not expect to hear from you again."

  Ward sighed. "You know of my objections to the plan."

  "And yet it succeeded despite you."

  "Yes."

  "What is your status?"

  "I am in the town of Hope, in north Nevada."

  There was a pause as Ezekiel wrote this down. "What is the status of Hope?"

  McAndrew pulled in a deep breath. "It survived the cleansing intact."

  Again, the line filled with static, though this time Ward imagined it was due to stunned surprise. "You traitor! So, not only did you abandon your brothers, but in your weakness, you saved your hometown. Is it functioning?"

  "It has weak governance, so supplies are low. And it has suffered disease."

  "Then the plague is having its effect. Good. But you have betrayed us and must face the consequences when we arrive. We must finish what the cleansing began and you will help."

  "No! Please, Ezekiel. Give me the chance to redeem myself. I will bring the town under my control and begin converting the people here to our way of life. You will then have many strong arms to bring about the new Eden. I can do this. I promise."

  Ward waited to hear the pronouncement of doom.

  "Very well. We will discuss your punishment when we meet, but as for the people of Hope, their fate rests with your ability to do as you claim. Do not fail, Jeremiah, or you and your people will face our righteous wrath. If, when we arrive at Hope, they do not lay down their arms and beg for our mercy, then we will stain the earth red with their blood; men, women and children. Do you understand me?"

  McAndrew nodded, his hands shaking as he fumbled with the response button. "We will be ready, leader. I promise."

  And the line went dead. Ward McAndrew sat in his basement and sobbed.

  Chapter 2: Milk

  Hickman was grumbling to himself when Libby Hawkins walked into his kitchen.

  "You know, talking to yourself is the first sign of madness …"

  Hick watched as the thick black liquid dropped into his cup. No milk or cream for him today, he was on 100% caffeine. "Coffee?" he said, glancing across to where she sat at the counter. She was a looker, that was for sure. Not quite movie-star level, but she could pass for Gillian Anderson's younger and blonder sister.

  "Thank you. I'll have it with milk and sugar, if that's alright? Do you have milk?"

  "I got some powdered," he said, turning back to the machine. "Funny you should mention that, but I've been thinkin' about the milk situation. Plannin' on payin' a visit to Miller's Farm."

  He caught the surprised expression on her face out of the corner of his eye.

  "Don't you want to spend the day catching up with Sam?"

  Hick stirred in the sugar and put the mug down in front of her. "Well, I sure would. Heaven knows I've prayed for the day to come when she's under my roof again. But right now she's asleep, and, anyway, she's devoted to that boy up there. And I don't have any time to wait. Have you been up to the school?"

  "Yeah. I reckon we've seen the worst of it now. The patients with pneumonia are being kept separate and the others are being treated with anti-virals."

  "I hope you're bein' careful with them. I don't think we'll be able to ask your mom for more any time soon."

  Her eyes dropped and he instantly regretted his words. "I'm sorry. It must be tough …"

  "To find out your mom's a homicidal maniac? I guess so," she said with a half-smile. "But I've always known she's got a heart of stone. This whole business has tipped her over the edge. I think she always hoped Dad would come back one day. But the firestorm put an end to that."

  He put his mug in the sink and said, "D'you want to come with me, out to see Elwood Miller?"

  "Why not? But can we get a bite to eat first?"

  Right on cue, Hick's stomach rumbled. "Sure."

  It was a bright afternoon with the first hint of spring in the air as they walked along 2nd St, past well looked-after ranch houses with pickups and SUVs sitting idle on their driveways. Gil Summers hadn't made himself popular when he'd slapped a ban on all non-essential vehicle use and especially when he ordered fuel to be siphoned to top up the little gas station at the Main Street intersection. It was absolutely the right thing to do, and Hick hadn't reversed the decision, so Fords, Toyotas and Nissans decayed into uselessness as their owners festered inside their houses.

  "Hey, Mr. Hickman!"

  It had been too much to hope that he'd be able to walk the two blocks to the school without being stopped.

  "Afternoon … " He recognized the face, but not the name that went with it.

  "Shearer, Joey Shearer. We haven't met, but I've seen you and heard you speak."

  Hick shook the offered hand. "Pleased to meet you, Joey. Folks call me Hick around here, and this is Libby Hawkins from Ezra."

  "Ma'am."

  "So, how are you doin'?" Hick said, eager to move along as quickly as possible.

  Joey nodded back at the house. It was a single story painted in duck-egg blue with a garage to one side. "Well, my kids are over the worst of it."

  "You had the disease here?" Hick said, reflexively wiping his hand down his jeans and glancing across to see the red dot that had been spray painted onto the white door. How had he missed that?

  "Well, I didn't, but we got Ma stayin' with us and she came down with it real bad. I heard tell you brought drugs back from Ezra that might be able to help some. I sure don't want to lose her and it hurts to see her so sick."

  Hick considered his response carefully. The trunk-full of medicine he'd brought back with him wouldn't last long if they didn't ration it. It might be for the greater good if this old woman didn't get anything and either lived or died according to her strength and the will of providence, but he wasn't going to say that to the desperate man in front of him. Not with Libby Hawkins as an audience.

  "I'll have a word with Doctor Pishar. You go find him in a couple of hours. Okay?"

  As Hick had hoped, Shearer took the implication as if it were a fact. Perhaps he was turning into a politician after all.

  When they reached the school, Hick made to skirt around the outside of the building and join the queue to the cafeteria.

  "Aren't you going to speak to the doctor?" Libby Hawkins whispered at his side.

  Hick grunted. "Listen, I don't need no Jiminy Cricket, so I'll thank you to mind your own business."

  "It is my business now. I can't exactly go home, can I?"

  "You can please yourself, but if you're gonna stay here then you can make yourself useful."

  They shuffled forward a few feet. "How?"

  He didn't know why he was feeling ornery with her. Perhaps he liked her more than was good for him. "Come with me to see Elwood. I don't reckon my face will be particularly welcome, but he'll behave better if you're with me."

  She chewed on that and spat it out. "So I'm to be your shield against folks who don't like you?"

  "No, I reckon that would be askin' the impossible. But Elwood lost his son a few weeks ago, and he's apt to blame me, though, for once, he's wrong. And we need him, even more than the other farmers hereabouts. Most of them grow animal feed, but Elwood also grows the animals theirselves. I'm gonna be sending out a scavenging party soon enough," he said, then, catching the look on her face, "not to Ezra, no. I think that might be testing Bekmann's loyalties a bit too much. But even if we come back with truckloads, it'll run out soon enough. Aside from Ezra, the nearest city's a hundred and fifty miles away and that's a long way to go along dangerous roads. We gotta be self-sufficient as much as we can. With meat and dairy, we can feed our folks."

  They were almost at the door into the cafeteria when she turned back to him. "I can't figure you out, Paul. One minute you're a tin-pot dictator, the next you're thinking about t
he long-term survival of your community."

  He shrugged. "I guess I'm a enigma."

  "Well, I'll come with you to see this Elwood. Maybe I can be useful."

  Of course, they weren't allowed to eat their meal in peace. Hick found a place in the corner where they sat at a low metal-topped table with their bowls. The place was filled with the clinking of metal and the chattering of people squeezing fat backsides into chairs made for children. Hick didn't think it was an unhappy sound; it seemed to be people engaging in the small talk typical of neighbors sitting together. A warm, meaty smell filled the room, promising rather more than it delivered.

  The cafeteria was run by the same woman who'd operated it when the school was open (another problem to add to his list—how to educate the kids of Hope without enough electricity or teachers). Since Martha had gone down with the flu, Jenna Murphy had hassled the supplies-gathering squads of Gert Bekmann with a list of the things she needed.

  "But we haven't got anything green, and that's going to affect folks' health soon enough."

  "Give me a break, Jenna. Right now, all I care about is getting enough food for two thousand hungry people. I ain't gonna fret over its nutritional value. Where d'you think we're going to get vegetables from? It's way too early in the year, and the farms around here grow animal food anyway."

  Jenna smiled, exposing large white incisors with a dark gap between them. "Well, that's not my problem. You're in charge."

  She moved off, leaving Hick and Libby to enjoy a dark brown stew that seemed to have been made by tipping the contents of cans into a pot and stirring. The best that could be said was that it was warm and edible.

  "She's right enough," he said, glancing over at where a colleague stood behind the counter monitoring portion size. "We can't go on like this for long. I reckoned I could give it a few days, but I think I'm gonna have to send out the raiding party as soon as possible."

  Libby grimaced as she drained the last of her stew. "Yeah. What I wouldn't give for a can of peaches and a little cream to pour over them. But who are you going to send?"

  "Gert'll have to go, but the mission has to be run by someone from Hope."

  "Rusty?"

  Hick shook his head. "No, we're gonna need the sheriff here, and I think he's been through enough just lately."

  She raised her eyebrows at this.

  "Hey, ain't I allowed to have some sympathy for him? He's been through a lot and he ain't no spring chicken."

  "And you want to keep your friends close," she said. "And your enemies closer."

  He shrugged. "Have it your own way. I'll send Gert, half his men and Devon. Having him out of the way will help Rusty settle back in."

  "Devon? The one you sent across the country to rescue your daughter? Doesn't he deserve a little rest?"

  "He sure does, but his experience out there is what makes him the best man for the job. Besides, I think he's got every reason to want to make sure the people of Hope have food in their bellies."

  Libby Hawkins pushed back her chair and stood up. "Nope, I'm not going to ask. Now, are we going to see Elwood Miller or not?"

  Miller's Farm was on the south road out of Hope, the road to Ezra, but it was just a couple of miles from the city limits. Hick fought back memories of that night when he and a few others had ambushed the militia that had taken control of the town. Hick had liked Elwood's son, Jimmy. It had been a real pity he'd died in the battle, along with Buster the dog. He felt a lump swell in his throat, and it wasn't for Jimmy.

  Hick pulled up outside the ruins of the farmhouse. It had gone up in flames that night along with Ned Birkett, and Hick had played a role in both events. Fresh timbers rose into the sky from the place where there had once been a barn and Elwood Miller came walking out, wiping his forehead on a dirty rag. Two young men were using a handsaw to cut a joist out of fresh timber. They stopped for a moment then, at a wave from the farmer, got back to it.

  "Paul," he said as he reached the car.

  Hickman got out and shook his hand. "Elwood. This here is Ms. Hawkins. Not the mayor; her daughter. She's on our side."

  "And what side's that?" he said, nodding to Libby.

  "Hope's. We gotta come together as a community if we're to survive."

  The farmer screwed his face up, his gray and brown beard bristling. "That's strange. I didn't see this community rushin' to help me an' my family out after the battle."

  "I'm sorry; I was out of it for a couple of days."

  "Oh, Rusty and the others helped to bury the dead, but my house was a pile of burned timber and the best they could suggest was to come back to town with them."

  Libby moved across to where Hick stood. "We've had sickness in the town, Mr. Miller. Hundreds have died. Hope's had a lot to contend with these past couple of weeks."

  Miller regarded her in silence for a moment. "Well, I guess you're here because you want somethin'."

  "Why aren't you rebuilding the house? Wouldn't that be easier than starting from scratch?"

  Elwood moved off toward the building site, Hick and Hawkins in his wake. "The old house is a place of death. Neither my wife nor daughter will live there, so we're building new."

  They stepped into the foundations of the new house and Miller gestured at the two young men who were halfway through the tree. "This here's Remik and Mike. Came on up the track a week ago, askin' for food. We took them in and now they're workin' for their keep. Good workers, they are."

  One of the men looked up. He was shirtless and the perfect embodiment of a fit young American. Dark brown shoulder-length hair, and a torso that could only have been honed in a gym. "Cześć," he said with a wave.

  "Both of them grew up on farms in Poland, but I don't ask too many questions. I don't reckon we've got too much choice, unless you're here to volunteer some muscle from Hope, Paul?"

  Hickman watched as the two young men bent to their task again. "I don't see why not. Even with the number of folks who are sick, there are plenty sitting idle. Manpower, or womanpower," he said, as Libby rolled her eyes, "is one thing we've got in good supply. But I'm here to talk about food, Elwood."

  "You mean, the meat on my cattle? How do you plan to pay for it?"

  Hick was opening his mouth to give the selfish fool a lecture on the futility of money in this new world when Libby stepped in. "Aside from offering labor, there are plenty of things Hope can exchange. Propane, gas, medical supplies, security."

  "Security? Well we both know how that worked out last time, don't we?"

  Hick raised his hand. "We've learned, Elwood. I got some weapons from the National Guard armory in Ezra. We can do a better job of defending ourselves and, from what I'm hearin', we're gonna need to. If you're part of the community then we'll protect you."

  "Mr. Hickman!" A woman emerged from a barn and strode up. "Elwood, why didn't you say we had guests?"

  "Oh, Mary. You don't want to be bothered."

  Hick stepped forward and shook her hand. "I'm so sorry about Jimmy, Mrs. Miller."

  She shook her head, as if to dismiss the comment. "We've got some coffee on, though we don't have many home comforts."

  Despite Elwood's protests, they were led into the barn where they found a pair of makeshift beds, a stovetop and a set of table and chairs that looked as though they'd been stored outside for a long time. The place smelled of cattle.

  A young woman came in through another door and dropped a bucket on the floor before noticing Hick and Hawkins.

  "This here's my daughter, Cassie," Elwood said. "Did you check on the low pasture, Cass?"

  She nodded to the visitors and then walked over to the stovetop and poured herself a coffee. "Yeah. I reckon we got fifteen ready to drop. I'm gonna get Remik to help me bring them in later."

  "You watch that lad," her mother said. "Folks like that ain't entirely respectable." She handed mugs to the two guests as Cassie blushed and turned away. "Now, what can we do for you, Mr. Hickman? Unlike my husband, I'm happy to welcome you here." />
  Hick adopted what he considered his most winning smile. "Thank you, Mary. I sure do appreciate it. We came to talk about feedin' the people of Hope."

  "Well, I'm sure we'll do all we can to help. Trouble is, a couple hundred sheep won't go very far."

  "I was thinking more about beef and milk, Mrs. Miller."

  "Ah, well. You got a problem there. We farm cattle for meat, sure enough, but they won't produce any milk."

  "Not the kind you're lookin' for, anyhow," Elwood said. He looked at his wife and the two of them broke out into a laughter that seemed incongruous, but which filled the place with a sudden life. "You see, Paul, they're all bullocks. And while we got fifty head, we ain't gonna be able to milk 'em or replace 'em. We got no females here. It's a sideline for us, you see?"

  Hick glanced over at Libby, who'd moved away from the other adults and was talking quietly with Cassie. He thought he saw Libby hand something to the young woman; something that made her blush again.

  He turned back to the farmer and his wife, both now looking out of the dirty window at their partially completed home. "Where did you get your stock from?"

  Elwood tore his gaze reluctantly from the scene outside. "Harry Corbett's farm, just northeast of Ezra. It's an arable farm with a small dairy herd. Or it was. Can't imagine it survived the firestorm; he was a sucker for technology."

  "Look, Elwood, Mary, I want Hope to have its own dairy herds. There's Pierce's place to the north, but we need at least two farms. Is there any chance Corbett's livestock might still be alive?"

  Miller shrugged. "Depends how many were outside and whether they were in one of the fields near the creek. But they'd be half starved to death even if they did survive—there ain't much for them to eat outside."