Decay: Civilization Part 16

Thump...thump... The guys ducked behind the isles while trying to maintain a full view of the room. Guillermo snuck around into the isle where Jonathan was. He slowly lifted his head up over the shelf and looked to Deacon, who pointed at the cooler door directly across from him with a huge smile on his face. Thump...thump.

On the other side of the gla.s.s door was a fiend trapped in the cooler. He was b.l.o.o.d.y and rotting, as they all are. His right side was split open from the combination of his rotting flesh and the pressure caused by being smashed between the door and the drink racks. There was not much room to move, but he was able to lightly pound his fist on the gla.s.s.

After a look around, Deacon confirmed that the rest of the store was clear, and Jonathan and Guillermo followed him up to the gla.s.s. Deacon tapped lightly on the gla.s.s where the fiend's face was pressed up against it. He seemed to be enjoying seeing the dead man like this.

A mop was pushed through the handle of the cooler door, running along several other handles to keep it shut. A thick brown film lined the inside of the gla.s.s around the fiend. Thump. He continued to hit the gla.s.s with his fist. The moans he let out were m.u.f.fled, and the skin on his face rubbing against the gla.s.s created a squeaking sound.

"He must've been forced in there," Guillermo observed. "He wouldn't have just fit himself in there like that."

"It is d.a.m.n funny," Deacon said. The smile on his face had not faded.

"Yeah. It kind of is pretty funny," Jonathan expressed as his own smile spread. "I wonder if it was the same people that are piling them up."

"Too bad the power is out. How much more funny would this be if he was all s.h.i.+vering in there?" Deacon added with a hearty laugh.

Jonathan and Guillermo both laughed with him. The three of them really need this, a time to laugh right in the face of the problems of the world. The horribly grotesque man behind the gla.s.s tried to move his arms, but it was too cramped for him to do much more then slide his hands around at about chest height.

"It would be even funnier if he had icicles hanging from his face." The female voice came from behind them, causing them all to spin around quickly. They had been so caught up with the cooler fiend that they had not heard the woman walk right into the store and stop directly behind them.

The warm smile on Mrs. Johnson's face as she stood there before Jonathan was enough to make his eyes water. He made quick work of the six steps between them and wrapped his arms tightly around her.

"Easy now," she conveyed happily. "I'm an old woman, you know."

"I am glad to see that you are alright. Are you out here alone?" He asked with concern.

"No. There are a couple of others with me. However, I am far from alright. The loss that we have all endured is terrible. We may survive this thing, but we will never again be alright," she stated firmly.

Jonathan took this in for a moment, and then realized he had not introduced the others. "This is Deacon and Guillermo. It is because of them that I am here today."

Deacon reached out to shake the woman's hand. "He's just being modest ma'am. He saved us." He decided against mentioning the house until Jonathan does. Although she seemed like a good person, Deacon would hate to be the one to tell a group of bad people that they had a safe house with years of supplies.

"It's nice to meet you, Deacon," she replied, "And it's nice to see you again, Guillermo. My yard hasn't looked the same since you stopped coming around."

"Sorry Mrs. Johnson. My schedule has been full, but I'll get around that way as soon as your neighbors stop trying to eat me," he said with a smile.

"Who are you with?" Jonathan finally asked. The question has been on his mind the whole time.

"I'm with a young couple from Thousand Oaks that survived the attacks on a tour of Alcatraz Island. As it turns out, they were there touring the prison when the disease hit San Francisco. They managed to stay safe there. Hungry, but safe. Until one of the dead washed up on the island.

"There's also a man who was an army ranger before landing a job with the secret service protecting the president," she replied, seemingly proud of this man's accomplishments. "I survived the attack locked in the attic of my house. The moment everyone started killing each other and breaking into houses, I climbed up, pulled the steps up behind me, and didn't come down until I was sure I was going to starve to death."

"I am sorry to hear that. While surviving alone in my home, I thought many times that I had it bad, but now I see that I was wrong," Jonathan replied, feeling ashamed that he could have ever been so selfish.

"My husband had gone into work early that morning. As a police officer, he was called to come in when things went out of control." The pain she still felt for the loss of her husband was evident on her face. "I didn't even wake up to say goodbye to him. There isn't much crime around here, so I a.s.sume he didn't want me to worry about him, or he thought it was just a training exercise."

Deacon took her soft hand in his, but no one said anything for several moments. Thump. The soft thuds coming from the cooler reminded them that this was not the place for heartfelt reunions, yet they were interrupted as they continued their search of the gas station.

"You won't find anything else useful here," the strong deep voice said.

Deacon jumped and spun around. "Jesus. How does everyone sneak up on us? Even more important, how did we survive this long with everyone sneaking up on us?"

"My name is Master Sergeant Elliot James, former Army Ranger and Secret Service agent." The tall African-American man reached out with his strong hand to shake theirs. His face was cleaned shaved and showed signs of aging, however, gray streaks were subtly taking over his short black hair. He was about four inches taller than Deacon, who shook his hand first.

"Deacon Belle, Clay Hills Fire Department. This is Guillermo Alvarez, and Jonathan Sawyer." Deacon introduced them while keeping a protective stance as he did so.

Elliot picked up on it, and he had to respect a man who would protect his friends from an Army Ranger, especially one his size. "Sawyer, huh? Name sounds familiar. Pretty common name, I suppose," he said as he shook Jonathan's hand, "Let's talk somewhere else, shall we?"

The group walked out through the front door of the gas station, and out into the light of the warm day. Parked just around the side of the building was a white Prius. Standing next to it was an average sized man with blonde hair, much younger than Elliot, and he was holding a small caliber rifle.

In the driver's seat sat a young woman who also had blonde hair. Her face was tan, and her eyebrows were well maintained. She looked too high maintenance to survive in this world. Jonathan a.s.sumed this was the young couple Mrs. Johnson had spoken of.

"You drive a Prius?" Deacon asked, as his eyebrows rose. "At the end of the world, you chose a Prius," he repeated, this time as a statement.

"It belongs to them," Elliot pointed at the young couple. "Eco-friendly types. Hippies. I wanted a bad a.s.s truck. The only plus side is how quiet the d.a.m.ned thing runs. You didn't hear us coming."

"Yeah that is a nice advantage; however, I have a truck I think you'll like." Deacon smiled wide and led the way to the Tundra.

Chapter 23.

Just under an hour later they found themselves at the Clay Hills Public Library. The large white building had been fortified to keep the fiends out. The entire place was livable, and everyone had their own s.p.a.ce. Jonathan and Nora sat in a large office that she had taken over. A large wooden desk sat in the middle of the room while a fire crackled in the fireplace on the far wall.

Jonathan stood by an extravagant window, admiring the simplicity of the barbed wire and spikes that kept the fiends out of the library. In the west parking lot, he could see a fiend caught in the wire. The dead man made feeble attempts to walk backwards out of it, but he was stuck. His skin was shredded as he continued to move.

"This is pretty nice," Jonathan said with a smile. He enjoyed the library, but probably not as much as he should have. Most of the books he read were on the shelves in his own home. "Where did you even find all that barbed wire?"

"Elliot found most of it around a s.h.i.+pping yard outside of town. The rest of it he made using regular wire, adding his own barbs and razors," Mrs. Johnson stated. She stared deeply up at the sky through the ma.s.sive window, and then looked to Jonathan, "So I a.s.sume your family is at home waiting for you?"

"No. My father did not make it. My mother and Michael left for Iowa before this happened. I do not know if they are alright or not, but I have the feeling that Michael is fine, at least. I was at the gas station to pick up any supplies I could find for the road. I am heading out to find them," Jonathan replied. He tossed a piece of wood into the popping fire.

"It's pretty dangerous out there," she said with concern.

"I have Guillermo. He has been a great friend to me."

"What about Deacon? Is he not going?" She asked.

"Oh s.h.i.+t!" Jonathan jumped to his feet. "I mean c.r.a.p," he felt uncomfortable swearing in front of his teacher. "Sorry Mrs. Johnson. We have others waiting for us to return."

"Please, call me Nora," She declared warmly.

"I will try, but it is kind of habit." His face contorted slightly. "I have to find Deacon."

"I'll come down with you so I can see everyone off."

They turned from the low flames in the fireplace and walked to the door that led to the administrator hallway. The hallway was filled with other offices for the various people that oversaw the day to day activity of the library. Some of these offices had been used by the group as apartments.

The hallway ended as it connected with the large marble staircase that led down into the library. The white walls were clean, tall bookshelves created rows of infinite knowledge, adventure, mystery, and romance. A few of the tables appeared to have been used to sort through their finds when they returned from scavenging. Deacon's voice grew louder as they walked down the stairs to the main level.

"Most of it is just welded in place, but I had plenty of shaping to do with the stainless steel. That plow wasn't easy. Many hours of heating and hammering went into it," Deacon rambled proudly as he told the other three about his work on the Tundra. They stood looking out the window into the rear parking lot where the vehicles sat.

"It's definitely awesome," Elliot said with a hint of jealousy on his voice. "Plenty of work went into this ol' library as well," he pointed out at the work he had done with the fence. "Usually we leave someone here when we go out, but we noticed a few fires last night. We thought it was others setting up camp for the night. Seemed like a pretty b.a.l.l.sy thing to do right in the open. We went out this morning to check and noticed that someone had burned several piles of the undead."

"So that wasn't you? Have you noticed signs of any other groups around, besides the fires of course?" Guillermo asked.

"We saw a man walking the streets the other day," The young woman replied. Her sandy blonde bangs ran smoothly to the right side of her face. Her voice was soft yet cla.s.sy.

Layla Smith was short, in her early twenties, and her blue eyes seemed to pierce the soul of anyone they rested on. She came from money, and although she knew it didn't matter anymore she held onto the image the best she could. Although she knew that she relied on others now more than ever she still found it hard to respect anyone else.

Her husband Tyler, whose blonde hair was kept short by his wife, was a software engineer before the attacks. He put himself through college working part time at a fast food restaurant, and he was proud of himself for making it through. The first one in his immediate family to even graduate high school, Tyler allowed his career to take him away from the family that was set on taking advantage of his success.

"Yeah, this guy was crazy. He walked right down the center of the street, kind of like a man with nothing left to live for, you know?" Tyler added. He was much more laid back then his wife. "I shouted down to him, to see if he needed help. He looked up, waved, and kept walking. Busting the undead up as he went. I've been calling him The Executioner."

"Could that have been Roger?" Jonathan asked as he and Nora joined the others. His unexpected voice caused Layla to jump.

"Could he be that much of a bada.s.s all of a sudden?" Deacon answered with his own question.

"He left as a man on a mission," Guillermo stated with a little pride, remembering the last conversation he had with Roger. "The day he left, I got the feeling that he had some things to take care of." He never told anyone what Roger had told to him that day.

"Well, I hope he is alright out there on his own," Jonathan said. "So Elliot, would you mind my asking about your military career? I am sure your training has helped in keeping you alive."

"It's the only reason I am alive," Elliot began, "I joined the national guard when I turned seventeen, and I went to basic training the following summer after graduating high school. After my first tour in Iraq I decided this was a great career. I went to active duty, kept working hard, and after a few years I became a Ranger.

"I did three tours in Iraq, and two in Afghanistan. When I decided to leave and return to civilian life I was given the opportunity to join the Secret Service. It wasn't really what I was looking for, but I was stationed in D.C. My parents lived just a few hours from there, so it worked out well.

"Protecting senators and diplomats was not as much fun as I expected. Basically, my job was listening through hotel doors to make sure the prost.i.tute they picked up wasn't killing them, so there wasn't much excitement.

"Another year went by before I was put on duty guarding the President. That is where the story gets interesting," Elliot a.s.sured.

"The last year of my aemployment' we took several trips out here to Clay Hills to talk with some Researchers at the Biological and Chemical Research Corporation building. Greg Taylor and Brian Sawyer," Elliot looked at Jonathan when he spoke the last name. He felt confident there was a relation between the two, as his memory was part of why he had been so successful with the military and Secret Service.

"You talked to my father?" Jonathan asked demandingly.

"Yeah, very brilliant man. The government had them working on cell regeneration. They were looking for a way to grow back limbs and organs. Several soldiers volunteered for testing. I don't know if any of them survived, but I do know most didn't."

Jonathan had known much of this, but it made sense now why most of the BCRC's research was never published. All of their test subjects dying certainly wouldn't help them find funding or new volunteers. The young man couldn't wait to hear more. He only hoped that Elliot's story would help him find the answers he needed.

"I felt a possible threat from Greg, however, so I confronted him about the way he acted. He was all over the place, and it was obvious he wanted us out of there. Not many people went to the fifth floor, so he pretty much had the run of things up there.

"He caved quickly and spilled out this story of a dead child being donated to the lab. Greg said he was close to reanimating the corpse. His confidence was impressive, and these are the top guys in their field." Elliot paused to grab a drink from his canteen.

It had become quiet enough to make a librarian proud. The only sound was the distant moans of the fiends and the rattling of the barbed wire fences they were stuck in. Jonathan suddenly realized that he had been holding his breath. The others were glued in place, resembling statues. None of them had known that this man knew as much as he did.

"President Granderson and I were both shocked to see the boy laying there in the cold room on a metal table. Greg started to panic, but was quickly relieved to hear that the President was excited by the idea of living forever. He told the two to keep in touch, and we left.

"President Granderson spent a lot of time in private meetings. Unusually private. n.o.body was allowed in, not even myself. These meetings were often held in the Pentagon and were attended by a very elite group. They went on for a few months. Finally a defense researcher was sent to the BCRC alone. I saw him briefly before he was flown out. The only object he took was a black box roughly the size of a child's shoe box.

"It was only a few days later that we received the call from your father. The child came back to life, but he was a monster, spreading his disease to everyone. He said the town needed to be locked down. President Granderson knew what was happening, and he ignored your father. We didn't send in the military until things got out of hand."

"I watched his address to the nation about the attacks. He said he was not sure what was going on," Jonathan insisted.

Elliot laughed, and then continued. "We were in a bunker in the mountains of Colorado when that address was made. He just didn't want to cause a panic."

"So why are you not still in the bunker?" Deacon asked.

"That is another interesting part of this story," Elliot took another drink. "We heard that Hawaii was safe. The islands shut down all incoming planes, made them turn around. n.o.body was allowed on the island. Thinking that a beach front resort was better than a bunker, we packed up the President and his family, along with the families of the President's aYes Men', and flew to Honolulu.

"Shortly after landing we had the whole place secure. Perhaps too secure. More people were flown in. Mostly for security purposes, and guards were set up all around the islands. For the first few days we sent away any boats that came by.

"One day a small yacht came along. We told them to keep moving. The man said all he wanted was water and they would be on their way. Unfortunately for them, the use of deadly force was authorized. Without any other warning the boat was shot at.

"I tried to stop them, but n.o.body could hear me over the gunfire. Besides, these people were no longer U.S troops. They had become people desperate to survive. After the gunfire stopped, I took a few others and a boat. We got out to the yacht. Dead bodies were everywhere, filled with bullets. Men, women, children, and even a couple babies. The hull of the boat had so many holes in it that the sun lit up the dark s.p.a.ce.

"These weren't infected people, just people looking for supplies so they could carry on. Some of the people in that boat still gasped for breath as we set it on fire. They didn't deserve to be slaughtered like that. h.e.l.l, none of the people that have died because of this deserved it. We should have shut down the BCRC when we had the chance." It was obvious that Elliot was disappointed in himself for what he had done.

"So you left, and you came here to find my father?" Jonathan inquired.

"Yeah. If not your father, than at least some answers. I'm a.s.suming by the amount of gas you are packing up that you already looked for answers. Did you find anything?" It was Elliot's turn to ask question.

"Not really. I have all the research notes left behind, but I cannot find anything useful in them. I will go over everything again at another time. I am sure I missed something important. I am also curious if there is something I missed regarding this mysterious researcher and what he had brought with him."

"So where are you headed?" Tyler asked.

Layla gave him a disapproving glance. "You don't need to be concerned with that," she said sternly.

Unsure of whether or not to answer now, Jonathan decided that he might as well. After all, he was already in trouble with Sophia. "Iowa. The rest of my family is there."

"What makes you so sure they are alive?" Tyler's wondered.

"My mom and brother were both trained to survive. They are out there," Jonathan replied with confidence.

"Then I'd like to go with you." Tyler stated.

Before he could start his next sentence, Layla jumped to her feet. "The h.e.l.l you are!" she yelled. "What the h.e.l.l is the matter with you? We are not leaving the safety of this library."

"You don't have to," Tyler shot back. His voice cracked slightly, making it obvious he had never stood up to her before. "I'm tired of being cooped up indoors. If there is anything I can do to put things back to normal then I'd like to help."

Elliot lifted his large body from the chair he was sitting on. "Nothing will ever be normal again." He turned to Jonathan, "But I'd like to go with you also."

"I would also like to go somewhere else for a while," said Nora politely.

The group stared at Jonathan as he thought about each of them. Elliot would be the most useful. He was not sure about Tyler, and Layla looked as if she would kill them both right now if he said Tyler could go.

"Find another car and some gas cans. Whoever wants to go is welcome," Jonathan exclaimed before quickly stepping away.