THE KILLER ANGEL : Book Three "Journey" (THE KILLER ANGEL TRILOGY 3) (3 page)

Faster than thought, that stinking, crushing horde of vomitous undead raged full upon me with maniacal shrieking fury. I knew well that awful sensation, I had felt it before; that hungry swarm of insane man-eaters that would destroy without mercy, their malodorous
breath hot upon my neck; their broken teeth tearing into my leather; those slashing, ripping, clawing brown nails digging into my face, as the runners knocked each other down in their horrid frenzy.

No, I would not become one with them, never. They would not count me in their kind, even if a scrap of my body was left unshredded to become so. I struggled against the ravenous creatures and pulled one gun from my vest, even as the screeching insanity enveloped me.
I’m so sorry Kip!
I pressed the barrel into my heart, my finger on the trigger, and prepared to end the legend of Nicki Redstone forever, no hero’s ending and no witness...no one to relate the inglorious end to a onetime legend.

Even then, even in my own dark despair, I could hear the agony of my dearest, ever faithful companion as he vented the sound that is made only by an animal suffering in-extremis, a most painful, fearsome death. My suffering Ben would not leave my defeated side, and was paying the price for his loyalty and courage.

How had it all come to this?

Images of my grandparents flashed through my mind.

Hugs
.

Tears of love
.

Kisses goodbye
.

My beloved Kip
.

Brick, Ben and I marched out through the Hedley gates on a new adventure. Destination: Florida, three thousand miles distant. We were strong and confident.

Success was assured
...

Journey
...

Our bodies had once again hardened to long, arduous travel, as we had successfully traversed the Rocky Mountains following an all too brief respite in Hedley with my beloved Kip and my grandparents. God, how I miss them.

With me always was Brick Charbonneau, proud son of a Lakota Sioux father and a New Orleans Creole mother. Witty, well educated, full of good cheer and always ready for the fray - my closest friend and fighting companion. Brick had seen me in all circumstances, and perhaps understood me better than anyone. He could read the most subtle change in my expression and could act upon it without a word. No
more noble soul ever walked the earth.

And Ben...my dear, beautiful Ben. More than once this faithful German Shepherd had saved my life, nearly losing his in the process. We have been through so much together in this new world, surviving as a team almost from the beginning. I never understood how this magnificent animal chose to bond with me, but I have never regretted the arrangement for a second.

The three of us had seen it all, reborn as a tight family of survivors in the post-apocalypse. I sometimes pondered who I had become, compared to who I had been. Before the end, I could never have foreseen – and definitely never would have believed – the incredible things that I have done and the horrors I have witnessed. Sometimes I have trouble believing it all myself. I would never say that rapid and dangerous action became routine, but ripping victory from hundreds of deadly confrontations tends to make one somewhat comfortable with the process – mentally and physically – and confident in the outcome.

Failure means death... I will not fail
.

I have always enjoyed waking up on cool, misty mornings and donning my gear. Each piece supplied a measure of confidence and feelings of security. Velcro straps and buckles firmly held various weapons and
tools against my arms and legs, giving a solid, comforting feeling; and the dagger precisely placed into a sheath within my long braid was a thin, stiff weight of power - a final defense that had proved its value more than once. Then my kit: Armored gloves; a leather jacket; my custom-made weapons vest; top-flight athletic shoes; lightweight hydration pack; and – of course – my guns, all cleaned, oiled, loaded and precisely positioned for quick access. Finally, a good stretch and I was ready for action.

Our original goals had always been twofold: To return Brick to a hopefully healthy family in South Dakota; and for me to locate my family and Kip’s father in Florida, with the further objective of bringing them back with me to Hedley, Oregon.

In spite of the extreme distances and time required to accomplish those tasks, a greater urgency was placed upon us when we received a startling radio transmission from Kip’s father, Marshall Kellogg, to my twin sister Scottie Redstone in Florida, the contents and tone of which revealed extreme stress, and demanded action on our parts without further delay.

Brick, Ben and I regretfully departed Hedley shortly thereafter, without the power and presence of my Kip, due to the long rehabilitation required for injuries he had recently suffered.

The wide open spaces made the use of mountain bikes an effective and safe means of travel, with Ben often enjoying the ride in a comfortable cargo trailer, all
items having been easily acquired at a large bicycle enthusiasts store. The best of everything was available for the taking.

Epic distances notwithstanding, Idaho and Montana provided surprisingly pleasant and relatively smooth navigation. On the long slopes of some highways we occasionally were still able to find vehicles with enough air in the tires to enable comfortable, rapid downhill movement in neutral gear, with our equipment easily thrown in back. Starting any engine was impossible, of course. Even if a battery had any juice, the old gasoline had long gone bad and gummed up engine parts and fouled every necessary component. Still, with the windows down, one could remember how relatively easy life had been, not so very long ago.
Ahhh...nice!

“I’m thinking of quitting the rescue business,” I announced to Brick one morning as we cruised down an especially long, slow incline, with Brick behind the wheel.

“Hrammmm...
Nicki Redstone retires
. No, I don’t see it,” Brick responded. “It wouldn’t be ‘Nicki Redstone and Brick’ anymore, just ‘Brick’...that doesn’t sound good. It’s BRICK...huh? What the hell?” Brick was always good at dealing with my humor.

“No, I’m not liking this idea; it’s very unpleasant to me. Retirement application rejected.”

“I’m thinking about returning to the biz...I was an actor, you know, fairly successful, too.”

“Hah, yes, acting, so I have heard and believe.” Brick smiled and glanced at me as he put his arm out stiffly to signal a lane change, never missing a chance for a chuckle. “Besides you and Kip, I’ve met only one other actor, and he was chewing on my arm, so to be honest, my feelings are mixed. Besides, given your resume, you would only be allowed in action movies. ‘Might as well do what you do best.”

“Je ne sais quoi.”
I said. “What would that be?”

“Kill runners and save the world.” Brick said nonchalantly.

As the incline depleted itself, our vehicle slowed to a stop. We sat briefly in contemplation and surveyed the calm, dry landscape. I popped the shells off of pistachio nuts, my favorite snack, passed a few to Brick, and then gave Ben a milk bone. A gentle breeze cooled my cheek. Chilly weather seemed to increase sensation in my scar.

“Brick,” I said slowly, lightly confirming the position of my rifle’s safety switch as we munched. “I fear that, one day, I will not stop. The edge of... out of control fury... of insane rage... is close for me...sometimes. You don’t feel this?”

Brick paused and looked at me with his wise, brown eyes,
“Non, mon ami
, I do not. You have enough for both of us. Your rage is your strength, even though you fear it unleashed. I know your soul and I have
heard your vow. I am guided by it and by you. I am here with you, Nicki...always.”

The one superior quality that I possessed, the one talent that had - so far - proven unbeatable, was the speed of my hands - both hands. That gift did not make me invincible, but that speed, combined with resourcefulness, athleticism and, above all, confidence, had given me the edge in every conflict. I prayed these capabilities would never fail me.

I remained calm and at ease...but I lacked patience.

Chapter Two

“The Weak”

I
T WAS an explosive moment requiring an immediate decision to separate or commit to unified action – the lives of our new friends could well have depended on the result. Failure was more likely if we remained together.

Split up!

Brick and I rarely separated, for many excellent reasons. Once two people were disconnected in the “new wilderness” without a very specific travel route, destination point, and a backup assembly plan, it may not have been possible for those two people to reconnect. If one party was lost or waylaid by trouble, how would the other person find them, unless a specific contingency was always in place? There were no cell phones, no GPS, no police, and no one to assist.

We tried two-way radios, but found that the added weight, unreliable range and connectivity, and relatively limited battery life were just too inhibiting to make them worthwhile. Solution: Stay together. It was simply too dangerous to separate if your strategy and objective called for connected movement. If you lost track of
someone in this comparatively primitive environment, they might not ever be seen again, their absence a permanent mystery. Imagine the difficulties and fear in such a situation, searching unaided and alone.