The Survivors: Book One (16 page)

“It’s hard to tell. A little of both?"

Before Kyle could add anything, Adrian spun. The movement was so fast, he was there before the action had been registered.

Adrian let go of the hand that had been about to rob him of the dangling bandana.

“Damn!"

“Pass."

The Eagle, a plumber from Oregon, swallowed his surprise and snapped off a smart salute before vanishing into the darkness.

Kyle grinned, thinking of his own level test a few days ago. “Daryl thought he had you."

“That’s how he failed. Rushed the end and made a noise as he went for it."

Kyle lit a cheroot with a calloused hand, waiting to see if Adrian had anything else for him.

“Chris also passed. Dale needs to do it again."

Kyle wrote it down, not questioning. Adrian was the sharpest judge of character he’d ever known, and he already trusted him completely.

“I’ll be in my tent."

Kyle watched him go, thinking these people were lucky to have the natural-born leader. The blond man was hitting on all eight, knew what was coming and was preparing to handle it. Because of him, most of these people would probably live. If they finally got some of the help that Adrian had all of his top men on the lookout for.

Chapter Eight

February 1
^st
, 2013

Black Rock Desert, Utah

1

Charlie saw them first, and knew instinctively they were who the Marine was looking for.

It was only three o’clock, but the blanket of sky crap, as the boy called it, made it look like dusk. Five long, hard days of walking into the strong, gritty wind had given them both red, squinted eyes, and rough, scratchy skin on their faces and hands. The two tired males needed it all -food, water, and transportation. The bike had been left back in northern Arizona. Totally empty of fuel, and with no refills in sight, the Honda was now just another rusting pile of metal on the side of an American road.

It had rained nearly every day since the War, but Kenn refuse to consider trying to sterilize it, worried it would still make them sick. They had run out of the water this morning and towns around here seemed to be nonexistent. This was the Southern Badlands, the Black Rock Desert, and they were in trouble.

Kenn knew there had to be at least a gas station somewhere, but with the sand blowing so thickly, he couldn’t see beyond the occasional dead car or body, or hear much better. He had chosen not to leave the main road. Utah was a huge place, and there would be no rescue party sent after them if they got lost.

Kenn hadn’t seen a home or business of any kind since dawn, only the faint, gritty shadow of mountains to the east, north, and west. There was occasionally a vehicle, the battery dead, paint faded, with few windows and inches of dust inside, but there were no outlines of structures. There were only layers of sand.

Kenn’s eyes swung east, toward home, but his mind was on NORAD. There had been smoke from that direction almost continuously and he’d moved them farther west to check the Dugway Proving Ground first. Overall, 257 was a surprisingly desolate stretch of highway. It was depressing, and the Marine forced his sore feet to keep moving and his scratchy eyes to keep looking.

Brought up in a wealthy family where he had been the clown and party favorite, being totally on his own was new to Kenn. Even in the Corps, there were his fellow Marines to rely on, be admired by, and the feeling of worry was not welcome. It didn’t help that Charlie still wasn’t talking to him unless he had to. Their direction wasn’t due east and the teenager didn’t want to hear about slavers or detours. He just wanted his mom.

Charlie was staying a couple of feet behind the wide-shouldered Marine, sheltered from some of the stinging sand as he looked through Kenn’s powerful binoculars. He wasn’t really searching for anything, was just bored, sleepy, and very tired of walking. There was nothing to look at except the big ants that Kenny wouldn’t waste their ammunition on, and no sounds beyond the wind and crunch of their boot steps.

He swung around to look behind them and a flash of silver caught his eye. His jaw dropped and a spiteful wave of wind sent harsh, stinging sand into his open mouth. He began to cough and spit, doubled over.

When Kenn put a hand on his arm, Charlie thrust the binoculars at him. “People!” he choked out, pointing. “It’s...  headlights... right? Lots of them."

Kenn tensed further, looking hard. A long line of people, but were they survivors or slavers?
Guess we’ll find out,
he thought, watching the large convoy of semis, cars, and trucks turn toward them.

 Headlights flashed from the lead rig and then from each vehicle as they were seen. Kenn felt his heart warm a little at the familiar American greeting, but it didn’t stop the worry in his gut.

“Stay close to me, boy. Do what I do."

“Yes, sir."

The two weary travelers waited tensely, the Marine automatically trying to estimate their number. Not that it mattered. They couldn’t fight so many, and there was no place to take cover, but he drew his gun anyway as the convoy got closer, letting it hang along his side.

Thick sand blew harder as all the vehicles except the lead rig slowed, then stopped. The huge red, white, and blue tractor-trailer inched forward, and Kenn got ready to fight.

The semi stopped smoothly next to them, and as the driver’s window went down, Kenn stepped in front of Charlie and lifted his gun to his hip. The barrel was still pointed at the dusty ground, but with his finger on the trigger, it was a clear warning.

The driver’s big hand was on the wheel and when the left finished with the window, it joined the right. “Do you intend to use that weapon, Soldier?"

The voice was a cold bark, and years of training made both males square their shoulders, the correct response falling automatically from Kenn’s mouth, despite the insulting
title
10
.

“A
Marine
never draws without intent. That would be a mistake!”

“And what’s wrong with that, grunt?"

The hard tone allowed no hesitation, “Because the United States Marine Corps does not make mistakes!"

Kenn snapped his mouth shut, studying the driver. Short, golden blond hair, black, mirrored sunglasses, white T-shirt, and yes, there was the single dog tag. He had been found by one of his own.

“So where ya headed?"

This tone was friendly, open, but Kenn understood that the first, sharp edge of command he had greeted them with was his real voice.

“Northeast."

“Looking for family?"

Kenn shrugged, not looking away as the wind pushed more sand towards them. “Something like that."

“He your son?"

Kenn took the first step toward making himself look good to a stranger. “He might as well be. I’m Kenn. He’s Charlie. We came from Ft. Defiance."

The driver removed his glasses and looked at Kenn with beautiful, pale blue eyes. “I’m Adrian." He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Those are my people, grunt, and they’re from everywhere. We have room as long as you follow the rules and pull your weight.”

The tone was casual, but those startling eyes were hard, assessing. Kenn put away his gun, voice firm. “For a while, but he stays with me and we leave together when I say. He’s my people.”

 “We’re Americans, Marine. No one is here against their will."

Trying not to flush at the scorn in the response, Kenn stayed quiet.

Adrian picked up his mic, told someone to come get them. “We’ll make camp in about an hour and Neil will see that you get settled.”

Kenn grinned. “Thanks. We could use some R&R."

Adrian smiled back. “Don’t thank me yet. After a full week of working with us, you may want to be alone again."

Kenn was encouraged. Work meant organization, authority, and planning. All the things he was looking for in the people they would stay with.

A small gray minivan pulled up next to the semi, the side door already open, and Kenn automatically snapped a quick salute to Adrian. Not waiting for it to be returned, he waved Charlie in and climbed aboard, sliding the door shut.

The males were very grateful to be in any shelter, but this one was warm, comfortable, and moving, and Kenn sank down with a groan of relief even as his eyes went over the three armed men watching him. One was roughly the size of a tank, the other two wearing the weapons and tools of Marines, even though they clearly weren’t.

Neil saw the look and shook his head, mind already racing as he backed the minivan up to third in line. “It’s not like that. If he thought you were a threat, he would have split you two up. You’d be with him."

Kenn was introduced to Doug, Kyle, and Neil, and gave them only his first name and no details. Their leader knew he was military. These guys could figure it out for themselves.

All three guards knew instinctively that there was important work ahead for Kenn, serious accomplishments that would benefit them all, but they also sensed there was something not quite right, not completely true, about the new man.

“The Boss has you with us. It means he probably already has a job in mind for you," Kyle stated from the front passenger seat, turning to look at the 9 mm on Kenn’s hip. When their eyes met, the Eagle thought they would probably never drink from the same bottle. There was something hinky about the new guy.

Kenn frowned back at the stocky guard with the tanned skin and black curls. Mobster? “Like what? We just met."

All three men hesitated, shrugging, and Kenn sensed it was respect that kept their mouths shut. Those were the boss man's questions and these were his closest men.

“Could be anything," Neil said finally, green eyes unreadable as he ran a hand over shoulder-length brown hair in a movement that implied disappointment and just a little bitterness.

“Mechanic, baby sitter, it’s hard to tell. He sees things in people, finds their talents."

Neil paused, looking at him in the mirror with eyes that were polite, but not friendly. “Hell, he might think you should be one of us."

Kenn took the cigarette that was offered and handed the bottle of water to the boy relaxing next to him, aware of the red-vested giant watching the teenager. Maybe wondering what stories Charlie might tell if he were alone? Kenn would make sure that didn’t happen for a while.

“Sounds like a club," Kenn provoked lightly, testing the water, and drew a warning from the Irishman in the swivel seat in front of them.

“It is. We’re his chain of command and we support him – completely,” Doug stated.

Kenn smiled easily, his cool eyes shuttered, clearly not intimidated. “I’d like to be able to do that. We owe him our lives now. Sell me.”

2

Adrian shifted into gear and got his convoy moving. They were headed to Delta for people who had called on the CB this morning, and then he planned to spend a few days in Oak Creek National Forest. The dust and wind were horrible for driving, the sand got into everything as it gusted against their battered vehicles, and he wanted to wait until it settled some before heading out again for Montana.

His thoughts went to his newest additions as he drove, mind replaying it. He had known the man and boy for what they were the second he saw their shadowy outlines, and didn’t think it was only coincidence that they were both Marines. The few he was looking for would have those eyes and that spark. With their secret bloodline, how could they not? Atlantis and Mary Magdalene might be long gone, but their descendants were not.

Kenn and Charlie were his own kind, more so than even Doug, the Army Veteran. Kenn would likely turn out to be one of his circle, he could feel that, but instead of being elated to finally have found his first, Adrian was worried. There was a sinking feeling that the Lance Corporal might also be a weak link, and that was dangerous, because the first of his circle would be the one he depended on the most. The bond of bringing these people through the wilderness was one that would need to be strong enough to hold them all together. It was the foundation, and if there was a crack, a weak brick, the whole thing could fall.

Head starting to ache from peering through the grit, the leader sighed. It didn’t matter right now. The man was desperately needed, no question there, and he didn’t have the luxury of "cherry-picking" his help. Besides, Kenn had put the boy behind him instead of in front. That said enough about his character. Didn’t it?

3

The ride was a slow but quiet one, the two males dozing most of the way, and Kenn was impressed from the minute they stopped to make camp. It only grew as he watched them set it all up, recognizing the equipment and techniques. There was no denying the feeling of longing, that old edge of excitement and glory he’d been missing. Not just a fellow grunt, Adrian had been a military leader, and Kenn was about to be serving again.

Tents were being erected, campers and trucks being guided into place, yellow caution tape wound around the entire perimeter. People ran for head calls, animals were let out, supplies unpacked, and through all, Neil - talking, directing, solving and overseeing. Kenn knew instinctively it was a perk of leadership to have that job, commanding this authority during the camp moves, and was only a little surprised to already feel himself wanting it. He had definitely found his own kind in Adrian, and it took only a couple of minutes for him to understand by the actions of the guards that the blond had no XO. His right side was empty and they were all vying for the place.