The Survivors: Book One (15 page)

“Anything moving?" The blond leader was sure he had been heard despite the unguarded appearance of the dusty parking area, and his eyes went over the tattered U.S. flags flapping in the heavy wind from nearly every antenna and door handle. That had been Kyle’s doing, he was sure.

“Same as last night. Just the wind, my watch, and Tonya."

Despite the clear lineage, there was no Irish accent from Doug’s low voice and Adrian watched him unfold from behind a small, blue Mustang.

The big man lit a cigar and gave the boss a look, but said nothing as he moved closer, leaving huge boot prints in the gravel. Adrian had saved his life and taken him in, given him work that made him feel useful, but Doug knew he wasn’t really a part of these people yet, wasn’t comfortable enough to joke, let alone question and he didn’t.

“Where was she headed?”

Doug stretched his wide shoulders, hard green eyes going over the dark shapes of sickly looking fir trees that lined the taped off area. He kept his left hand in his pocket, the nerves jumpy, twitching slightly. He wasn’t sure if the hard leader would pull him off duty for it or not, but he wasn’t taking the chance. “Her tent, I think. She looked pissed."

Adrian smiled, meeting his eyes with a small smile of male satisfaction that the big man recognized. “Isn’t she always?"

Doug grinned, nodded, and kept a tight leash on his mouth. He had only joined the service to keep from being just another Irish potato farmer in Idaho, but once in, he’d found a way of life and a moral code that had allowed him to keep his hope. The same was true of Adrian. That 40-something grunt still had enough hope to save the world, and though Doug had seen the easy redhead leave the boss man’s tent, he wasn’t about to begrudge Adrian a piece of ass that many in camp had already had.

Adrian was sacrificing everything, trying to save some of this country. Doug, who had given most of his own life for the very same thing, had a lot of respect, and willingness to overlook what might interfere. Like the camp finding out their leader was screwing the woman they all suspected was a black widow, or at least an accomplice. Information like that was dangerous and he would guard it closely.

Adrian slipped out of camp through the parking area, hating the pitch blackness that surrounded them on all sides. As he moved towards the men guarding the rear of the camp, he stalked back through the tape like an intruder would. These men were bouncers, factory workers, hardware store owners, drive-thru employees, and they were on drag, the area farthest from the Safe Haven he’d tried to create. They were the wire, the only warning system, and it put them in the most danger. Because of that and the many, many other things he had foreseen, Adrian had been working hard with them (some closer than others, like Kyle and Neil) and this was the first test of their alertness. He planned on many more in the future. It was essential...

Click.

Adrian stilled at the sound of a gun’s safety being flipped off, and he nodded when the same noise came from behind him. The trees were only vague outlines and shadows that shifted continuously with the wind.

“This is a US military refugee camp. State your business!" an icy voice barked.

Adrian heard the faint, static-ridden crunch of a hand-held radio. The guard had let the other men know they had a problem, just as he had been taught.

“Mister, I can see you real well, and I will shoot unless you state your business immediately!"

“Stand down, Neil."

The sigh was audible, “Damn, Adrian! I was close."

The State Trooper slid the Beretta back into his holster as he stepped from behind a nearby tree, night vision goggles coming down.

As Neil flipped on the penlight around his neck, dimly illuminating the thick fir trees he’d chosen to take cover in, Adrian pinned him with a searching look. “Would you have fired if I hadn’t spoken up?"

Neil nodded right away, tall, thin shadow not quite leaning against the tree as the wind blew harder. “Affirmative. We can’t take chances now."

Footsteps crunched heavily from two directions and arrived at roughly the same time, telling Adrian they had been where they were supposed to be.

“What’s wrong?"

“You okay?"

Neil waited for Adrian to address the arriving guards. When he didn’t, the cop did, keying his walkie-talkie so the others could hear too.

“Disregard, false alarm. Go on back."

The two men went without question or complaint, nodding to Adrian, and he thought they were probably glad to have something to keep them awake. He had put the right man in charge of this shift though, that was clear.

The trooper, who everyone called Neil, wasn’t just your average cop, and despite his young age (not quite 30) Adrian was aware that people had begun to wonder if he was being looked over for second in command. He wasn’t. He didn’t have the blue eyes and special spark Adrian was searching for, but the trooper was still valuable and it hurt no one to let the camp assume so. It only made Neil, who knew better, feel proud. They had talked about it briefly, exchanged two or three sentences, but the cop understood that Adrian was holding that place for someone else, someone they hadn’t found yet.

Adrian noticed the man's respect; he waited for the Boss to begin. “Hearing anything?"

“Negative. Lights again, though. Campfires," Neil answered, not seeing Adrian’s shadows, but sure they were there. He and Kyle had only recently passed their own level tests.

Adrian's mind went straight to the Slavers. “How many tonight?"

“Two northwest. Looks like the same ones we’ve seen all week, following us. Kyle thinks they’ll make contact tomorrow and I agree. “

“Why’s that?"

Neil frowned, settling his cover more firmly on his head as thick flurries began to rain down on them. “The other campfire, the one northeast; it’s big and more than causing a disturbance. That’ll push the smaller group our way out of fear."

Adrian was very glad they had found the equipment shed at Pine Valley untouched. They now had a lot of weapons and defensive choices that most survivors wouldn’t. “That’s exactly what I hope will happen. How many? “

Neil shook his head, green eyes worried. “Can’t tell yet.”

“The ones we heard yesterday, screaming for all Americans to die?"

“Yeah... I’m almost sure they’re bigger than us."

Adrian nodded. The bad would always gather faster than the good, would always outnumber them too, if things continued as they were. “You think you can find a few more men? Double the guard?"

The trooper looked at his watch. “After the check?"

“Yes.”

When Neil offered him the walkie-talkie, Adrian shook his head, thinking the brown hat the cop insisted on wearing fit surprisingly well with the solid black uniforms he had put together for everyone, including himself. His jeans and the eagle on the back of his jacket were necessary concessions. Later, it would be dangerous to announce who he was so openly, but for now, he needed to be easily picked out of a crowd for the comfort, the calmness of his herd. “I’m not here."

Neil keyed the mic, hoping everyone was awake. “Check-in time. Let’s try to remember how to count. Point is clear.”

Adrian smothered a grin at the tone, glad the non-smoking, non-drinking cop wasn’t as tight-assed as he seemed. Getting each shift of men to go in the right order, with the right wording, was frustrating to say the least, especially to the career cop, who was used to the smooth organization of a police radio. The fact that Neil was the last in a very long line of a generational police family made it doubly annoying when someone went out of order, or worse, forgot their area number.

“Area two, nothing here." That was Kyle at the communications center.

“Area three, clear." Doug, at the parking area.

“Four, clear." Chris, at the Mess tent.

There was silence as everyone waited for Danny, the guard on the water tankers. When he didn’t check in, Neil frowned. Wasn’t there anything that guy could do right? “Check in now, area five!"

Silence again…then the handset crackled.

“Five, sorry. All’s fine here."

The voice was groggy and Neil automatically handed the set to Adrian, knowing this was his chore.

“Area five, is my cat in the barn?"

The voice that answered was clearly embarrassed, “No sir! Nature call."

“Copy. Five is clear. Next?"

The check-in continued as Adrian handed the set back to the trooper.

“Think he fell asleep again?" Neil's voice was annoyed.

“Probably. Call in his relief when you get the extra men…and have him put lime dust around the johns before he can have a bottle. We shouldn’t get into the habit of being careless.”

Neil ran a hand through thick brown curls. “Most of the men said okay to the mountains, if we can’t find anything better along the way.”

Adrian understood their reluctance. He too wanted to rebuild on top of the earth, not inside it.

Neil wondered suddenly what the shadows thought of all the conversations they were overhearing, thinking of his own test, his own revelations about their supposedly altruistic leader.

“I should be doing more," the cop blurted, not planning to, and was surprised when Adrian only looked at him with knowing eyes.

“To help you, I mean,” Neil clarified. “Is there something more I can do?”

Adrian studied Neil’s narrow-face as the cold wind blew a light dusting of ashy flurries over their boots. “There’s something else you feel you should be doing for me?"

Neil didn’t drop his eyes, even though he wanted to. “I have some ideas - mostly about the guards…and security."

Adrian’s face split into a grin, and he clapped the surprised man on the shoulder. “It took you long enough to ask. I’ve always thought to have you as my head of security when you’re ready and things start rolling."

They were the words every man in camp wanted to hear. A position close to Adrian, one that commanded authority and proved to the camp (to the Boss) that you were useful.

“It’ll probably be only ninth or tenth in the final chain of command, but for a while, it will be third or fourth and you’ll always be in the loop. My word on that.”

Neil met his eye with careful gratitude and a small flare of guilt. He was so much more now, than he had been before the War. In this awful new world, he was finally serving. “Is this the official offer?"

"No, that comes later. For now, work hard and learn." Adrian hesitated, and then continued. “Moreover, keep your eyes open for anyone you think I should talk to or might have overlooked."

Neil studied him thoughtfully for a long minute before dropping his eyes. “You mean people like you."

It wasn’t a question and Adrian frowned, hoping he hadn’t offended the cop. “Like me?"

“It’s hard to explain. Something just draws people to you. I’ll know it when I see it.”

Adrian caught his eye. “Your loyalty means a great deal to me. You’ve been by my side almost since the very beginning, and all the responsibility you’re looking for will happen. You have my word on that, too.”

Neil nodded, proud and eager for the time to come. “I see the sacrifices you make, how hard you work. We all do, and we’re grateful you stuck with us when everyone else split."

A little uncomfortable (his guilt whispering insults) Adrian opened his mouth and was disappointed with what came out. “We’ll make it. God will help us find our way now."

Neil tensed, face darkening as he turned away. “Why wouldn’t he before we got lost?”

3

Adrian took his time going back, seeing no signs anyone had around since the War. He carefully skirted the small, nervous herd of mule deer huddled together for warmth, encouraged to see them. It looked almost normal here, would if not for the debris rolling with the wind.

Plastic bags, fast food wrappers, bits of paper, mildewed clothes - it was the same garbage that had always littered America, but the amounts of it had grown drastically, litter patrols and trash removal gone like everything else. There wasn’t a single aspect of American life that the War hadn’t touched, changed. Still, other than the debris that made odd noises in the wind, and the occasional rotting fox or rabbit, it looked like nothing had happened here, and that was the whole point of him choosing preserves and parks. How could his people heal if they were constantly being reminded of all they’d suffered, lost?

Back in the heart of camp now, Adrian moved quietly, hearing tents flapping in the cold breeze and snores. He was glad not to see a single soul passed out around the bonfire. They were all inside, finally adjusting to being under canvas.

Adrian nodded to Jeremy, the man now guarding the water tankers instead of Danny. It pleased him to see that the new guard on the 100 gallon, portable tankers was wearing the entire black outfit, but he didn’t stop to talk.

Aware of the two shadows that came with him as he got a cup of coffee from the deserted Mess, Adrian then headed for the tow truck they had just converted into Safe Haven’s communications center. The guard here was his most promising man.

A former captain in the infamous Genovese mob family, Kyle had also dressed in the suggested black gear, even down to the cap over his short, curly black hair. Again, Adrian was more than happy he had changed his mind, convincing the man to make a clean break instead of trying to make it back to New York and any of his "family" who might have survived. He hadn’t been sure of the Mobster at first, but he was now.

“Hear anything?"

Kyle shook his head, tan skin showing small age lines under his blue eyes as he frowned. “Nothing but static, Boss. Storm whacked the antenna good."

“Mitch pass?"

The stocky guard frowned, hand resting lightly on the handle of his Glock. “Yep. Only one who did."

“I want him on it come morning. Tell him to get comfortable there."

Kyle’s eyes swept the landscape around them as he confirmed. “You know it.”

Content for the moment that all in their kingdom was secure, the Mobster turned back. “Something’s coming, Boss. Feel it in the wind."

Adrian had the same worries.  “Good or bad?"