Текст книги "The Darkest Place"

Автор книги: James N. Cook

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 34 страниц)

FIFTEEN

Near San Marcos, Texas

When I had seen enough, I quietly handed my rifle to my father, took a few steps away, and was violently sick. When the dry heaves subsided enough so I could stand again, I felt my Dad’s hand on my shoulder.

“You all right, son?”

“Do I look all right?” I snapped, shrugging him off and snatching my carbine out of his hand. “And why does everyone keep asking me that? I think the answer should be pretty fucking obvious at this point.”

My father’s palm cracked across the side of my head so loud the others heard it and snapped their heads to look. I stumbled back, stars dancing across my vision. Dad had hit me plenty of times in training, but never in anger, and never full-force. Oddly, I didn’t mind. The pain and stun of it was a welcome distraction from the hellish scenes burning themselves into my memory. When the cobwebs cleared, I looked at my father, expecting to find him angry. Instead, he simply looked worried.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “Your breathing was rapid and your pupils were dilated. Your hand shook when you took your rifle from me. Did you even notice?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You were showing signs of panic, Caleb. You can’t go into shock or hysterics. Not now. Not until we get to safety.”

I rubbed my head where he had struck me, the hot skin raising into welts under my close-cropped hair. “Okay. Sorry, Dad.”

His hand squeezed my arm. “You got your head screwed on straight now?”

I nodded, forcing the images of the carnage on the interstate to the back of my mind. “Yeah. I think so.”

Dad watched me for a second, then grunted in satisfaction. He turned to the others. “We’ve seen enough. It’s time to get moving.”

The other men muttered agreements and dispersed to their vehicles. I turned to head for the rear Humvee, but Dad grabbed my elbow. “Wait,” he said. “I want you to take over for Sophia. You’re close to her age, so she’ll probably listen to you better than the rest of us. I want you to look after her, all right?”

My heart sped up at the thought. I swallowed dryly and nodded. “Okay. I can do that.”

Dad took a step closer, whispering. “I know you like her, Caleb. It’s natural; she’s a pretty girl. But you need to clear that shit out of your head right now, understand? We’re in survival mode. Act like it.”

Survival mode. That I can do. “Yes sir.”

He patted me on the arm, hesitated a moment, and then pulled me into a tight hug. I hugged him back, squeezing hard.

“I love you, son,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

I had to blink a few times and clear my throat before I could speak. “I love you too, Dad.”

“We’re going to get through this. We’ll do it together, just like we always have.”

For a moment, I wondered who he was trying to convince. Pushing the thought aside, I said, “Damn right we will.”

Dad stepped back, and although I could not see his mouth under the respirator, I could see his eyes. He was not smiling. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

*****

Sophia gratefully surrendered the wheel.

I tried unsuccessfully not to stare at her ass while she scrambled over the center console and plopped down in the passenger’s seat.

“I can’t see shit out there,” she said, looking at me as we drove away from the overpass. “How can you drive in this?”

“Your dad is wearing NVGs in the lead Humvee,” I replied. “He can see the way ahead. I’m just following tail lights.”

We were silent for a few miles as we headed south, bypassing San Marcos and eventually merging onto Highway 12. The wind-blown dust and ash gradually lessened the farther west we drove, but nightfall prevented an improvement in visibility.

Sophia sat curled in her seat next to me, knees under her chin, chewing nervously at her fingernails. I thought about asking her to put her seatbelt on, but being that we were driving less than twenty miles an hour, I didn’t figure it would make much of a difference. Under other circumstances, I would have had a hard time not staring at her eyes, or hair, or the graceful curvature of her legs. But right then, just staying on the road and maintaining visual on the lights ahead of me consumed all my concentration. Nevertheless, from the corner of me eye, I noticed Sophia shooting curious glances at me as she shifted and fidgeted in her seat, broadcasting a sense of growing agitation.

“Do you have any idea where we’re going?” she asked finally.

I thought for a moment, eyes narrowed. “You know what? That’s a damn good question.”

Our radio was in a cup holder in the center console. I picked it up and keyed the mike. “Blake, this is Caleb. Got a question for you. Over.”

Static. “Roger. Go ahead.”

“Where the hell are we going? Over.”

It took him nearly a full minute to respond. “Well, we have a few options …”

“We’re going to Canyon Lake,” Dad interrupted. “An old friend of mine owns a cabin there. He gave me a key years ago, told me to use it whenever I wanted. We’ll be safe there for a while.”

Mike keyed in. “What about the fires? What if they catch up to us?”

Dad said, “Dale owns a cabin cruiser big enough to fit all of us. If need be, we can take it out on the lake and wait the fire out. I doubt it’ll be a problem, though. There’s not much to burn around this place; it’s mostly sand and rocks. A few trees, but none too close to the cabin. We should be all right.”

Blake spoke up. “Any objections?”

No one responded.

“All right then,” he said. “Canyon Lake it is.”

*****

We followed Highway 12 northwest until we came to a side road marked as Cascade Trail and took it south until it terminated at a narrow two-lane labeled Hugo Road. From there, Mike spotted a dirt two-track headed southwest, which later gave way to an open patch of bare field that ended near a small pond. Dad said we should stop and rest a few minutes, and asked Blake to find a route to the lake that avoided the main highways. We could see the lights of the cars on those roadways in the distance, and it did not look as if anything was moving.

“If we go off road for about a mile eastward,” Blake said over the radio, “we can pick up Estrellita Ranch Road. That’ll take us to the access roads around the lake. Joe, where’s this cabin we’re looking for? Over.”

“Look for Colleen Drive,” Dad replied. “It’s on the point of the first peninsula south of Comal Park.”

Sophia and I waited, exchanging a quick glance in the darkness. The moon was full that night, but the soot-filled sky allowed only a fraction of silvery blue to sift down and light upon her face. I could see the curve of her cheek and a faint glimmer of red where the tail lights of my father’s truck floated in her eyes.

“What?” she asked.

I realized I had been staring, blinked, and looked away. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She shifted and stared out the window, arms crossed over her knees. “Guys stare at me all the time. It’s like when a boy sees a pretty face his brain falls out of his ass.”

I felt my face burn, embarrassment rousing my temper. “I said I was sorry, Sophia. You’re beautiful. I’m human. Sue me.”

“Just don’t get any ideas. You try anything, and my dad will break your neck.”

I snorted. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Even in the gloom, I could see the anger on her face. She started to say something else, but the radio interrupted her.

“Okay, got it.” Blake said. “Route is plotted. Mike, please tell me you have a compass up there.”

The big Marine keyed his radio. “Who you talkin’ to? Just give me a bearing.”

Blake did, and we were off. Sophia stewed in anger next to me, eyes focused out her window steadfastly refusing to look in my direction. That was fine by me. She may have been pretty, but I did not appreciate her implying I might try to do something against her will. The fact she would even think me capable of something like that knocked her down several notches in my book. Furthermore, I was willing to bet I had a better relationship with her father than she did, and Mike knew damned well I would never lay a hand on a girl without her permission. For her to threaten me with his wrath, a man I loved almost as much as my own father, rankled even worse than her accusation of being a pervert. We did not speak to each other for the rest of the ride to the lake.

At just after 2300, our little convoy turned onto Colleen Drive and rolled through the dark, silent neighborhood to Dale’s cabin. Dale Forester was one of Dad’s old army buddies, a man he had gone through basic training and AIT with. They had served in the same infantry unit before Dad moved on to Special Forces, and they had stayed in touch over the years, getting together at least once a summer to start drinking too early in the morning and feign interest in catching fish. Dad always brought me along, claiming it would give me a better appreciation of nature. This was a lie. He just wanted someone to fetch his beer and drive the boat when he and Dale got too drunk.

As we approached Dale’s place, I searched the neighborhood around us for signs of habitation. At that time of year, there should have been at least a few people vacationing in their lake homes, not to mention retirees who lived in the area year round. But only a few driveways had cars in them, and there was nary a light to be seen. This struck me as odd until I noticed that even the streetlights were out.

Grid must be down. Good thing Dale has a generator.

At a word from my father, all the cars cut their headlights. Mike and Tyrel switched to the Humvees’ blackout lights, making them practically invisible in the darkness but still allowing them to navigate easily with NVGs.

At Dad’s direction, Mike pulled into the appropriate driveway and drove around to the other side of the house, out of sight of the road. The rest of us followed suit, lining up and parking near the shore of the lake. The property’s sizable backyard sloped down a hill to the shoreline, not too steep, but enough to keep us hidden from the casual observer. If someone wandered into the yard, however, they would have no trouble spotting the five vehicles.

The cabin cruiser sat atop its large trailer in the backyard looking like a white beached whale. Since Canyon Lake did not allow private docks, Dad would have to drive it north to Comal Park to launch it. From there, it would be a short transit to anchor out away from the property. A dinghy near the shore would allow us to travel back and forth.

Once parked, I climbed out of the truck and had a lengthy stretch. It had been a long, grueling day, and I was exhausted. I wanted nothing more than to collapse into one of the guest beds in Dale’s cabin and pass out for twelve hours. But there were things to do before I could allow myself the luxury of sleep.

“All right,” Dad said, motioning everyone to gather round. “First things first: Caleb, you’re on refueling detail. When you finish, reposition the cars so we can get out of here quickly if need be. Got it?”

I gave a thumbs-up. “Got it.”

He turned to Blake and Tyrel. “Y’all mind helping me launch the boat?”

Tyrel grunted assent. Blake stifled a yawn and said, “Not at all.”

“Mike,” Dad said, “how about you fire up one of the emergency radios and see what you can pick up?”

The big man nodded tiredly. “Will do.”

Dad dug his keys out of his pocket, found the one that unlocked the cabin, and held the keychain out to Lauren. “You and Sophia go inside and get some rest. We’ll be along shortly.”

Lauren accepted the keys, then stepped in and leaned her face against Dad’s chest. “Don’t be too long, okay?” she said, arms tight around him.

“I won’t. I promise.”

She kissed him, then walked over to me and stood on tiptoe to give me a peck on the cheek. “You be careful too, you hear?”

I nodded. “Yes ma’am.”

She hugged me around the waist, her arms too thin and her shoulder blades too sharp under my hands. The hard knot of worry plaguing me since her attack had begun aching anew. It might have been my imagination, but I could swear I felt her trembling against me. I gave her a kiss on the top of her head.

“It’s gonna be okay, Lauren,” I said. “Dad and I will take care of you.”

She looked up and gave me a weak smile. “Thank you, Caleb.”

I watched her walk toward the cabin, motioning to Sophia to come with her. Sophia took a moment to shoot me a baleful glance, daring me to look away. I kept my face blank, showing nothing. When a few seconds passed and she didn’t get the reaction she wanted, she rolled her eyes and stomped along behind Lauren. Mike watched the exchange and waited until Sophia was inside before walking over to me.

“Mind telling me what that was all about?” he whispered.

I looked him in the eye. “She’s pretty, Mike. I got caught looking. She took offense and told me not to get any funny ideas or she’d have you break my neck.”

Mike closed his eyes and rubbed at his forehead. “And what did you say to that?”

“I told her not to flatter herself.”

At that point, I fully expected some kind of indignant reaction from Mike, even going so far as to brace my feet in case I had to elude his grasp. But instead, I watched his shoulders hitch as he fought down a chuckle. “You really said that to her?”

“I’m sorry, Mike. She insulted me for doing nothing worse than telling her she was beautiful. I was angry. I wasn’t thinking.”

He gave me a conciliatory pat on the shoulder. “And you think she’s pissed at you, now, right?”

“Isn’t she?”

“You don’t know much about girls, do you, boy?”

Now I was confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

This time, there was no attempt to hide the laugh. “You’ll figure it out soon enough, kid. In the meantime, do what your dad says and go gas up the cars.”

He grabbed an emergency radio out of his truck and then disappeared into the cabin. I stared after him, brow knitted.

What the hell is he talking about?

SIXTEEN

Canyon Lake, Texas

Dale’s cabin had an open floor plan on the ground level, a two-car garage, a basement, and three bedrooms upstairs. Walking in the front door, the living room was to my right and the kitchen was to my left. An island with a countertop made of the same material as cutting boards separated the two rooms, complete with a few stools positioned under the overhang on the living room side.

Mike sat at the table, head low, thick fingers adjusting the tuner on the emergency radio. Lauren and Sophia had already gone upstairs, leaving the big Marine and me alone downstairs. I pulled up a seat next to Mike and kept quiet, listening. After a minute or two, Mike shook his head in frustration and turned off the radio.

“Anything new?” I asked.

“Not much. Most everything within fifty miles west of the Mississippi has been evacuated, but we already knew that. California is a clusterfuck, riots everywhere. Wildfires spreading from East Texas west to Baja and north to Colorado and Kansas. Been a dry year. Bad time for fires to break out.”

“I heard something about Canada.”

“The Canadian government closed the border. Nobody allowed in or out.”

I digested that for a moment. “Anything about … you know. The infected.”

Mike turned and looked at me in the gloom, exhaustion etched in the lines of his face. “Yeah. Looks like those guys your dad knew were right. There’s only one way to kill ‘em.”

“How’s that?”

Mike switched the radio back on, turned the dial a few times, and pushed it over to me. “Listen,” he said.

I held my ear down close to the speaker. “…not to be treated as living people. Repeat, those infected with the revenant virus are not to be treated as living people. Once an infected person reaches the reanimation stage of infection, they will exhibit psychotic, cannibalistic behavior, and will attack anyone who comes into contact with them, including friends and family. If a member of your family becomes infected, report them to the authorities immediately. If there are no authorities available, be advised the only way to stop an infected person past the reanimation stage from attacking is to destroy their brain or sever their brain stem. Anyone bitten by an infected person will also become infected. Do not attempt to physically restrain or subdue an infected person, as this may result in bites, which will cause further spread of the contagion. This is a joint safety advisory from the Department of Defense, Federal Emergency Management Agency, and the Centers for Disease Control. Be advised, infected persons are not to be treated as living people. Repeat, those infected with the revenant virus are not to be treated-”

The transmission stopped abruptly as Mike turned it off. “Long story short,” he said, “shoot ‘em in the fuckin’ head.”

I tried unsuccessfully to repress a shudder. “This can’t be real, Mike,” I said. “Dead people don’t come back to life.”

“Listen, son,” he said. “We don’t know what the hell is going on with these people. Even the government hasn’t figured it out yet. Maybe they’re dead people, maybe they’re not. Who knows? Bottom line is this: they’re dangerous, and if you see one, don’t hesitate to put a bullet in its head. Got it?”

I nodded quietly. Mike gave my shoulder a squeeze before standing up and stretching. “You been here before, right?”

“Yeah, ‘bout every year. Why?”

“Dale keep any hooch around this place?”

I pointed to the cupboard above the stove. “Couple bottles up there. Bourbon, I think.”

Mike walked over, opened the cabinet, and after a moment’s consideration, took down a bottle of Buffalo Trace. “Sorry, Dale,” he muttered. “Pay you back if I live.”

“Glasses are over there,” I said, pointing. Mike selected two tumblers, sat down next to me, and poured a couple of fingers in each glass. He pushed one in front of me.

“Drink it,” he said.

I hesitated, frowning.

“What’s the matter? Never had a drink before?”

“Couple times. Didn’t care for it.”

“What’d you have?”

“Vodka, once. Beer another time.”

Mike made a disgusted noise. “Vodka is for sorority girls and beer is for pussies. Whiskey is a man’s drink. Give it a try.”

I picked up the glass and sniffed at it. “God, this shit smells like turpentine.”

Mike laughed, his deep voice rattling in his chest. “Just don’t gulp it. Little sips.” He held out his glass.

I clinked mine against it, then allowed a little of the amber liquid past my lips. The flavor was surprisingly sweet, at least until I swallowed it. Then a golden burn started in the back of my throat and tore its way up through my nose and eyes. Mike chuckled as I snorted and coughed.

“Fuck,” I sputtered. “It burns.”

“That’s how you know it’s working.” Mike tossed his drink back in a single gulp, then breathed deeply through his nose. Even though the room was dark, I could see his eyes water. A waft of alcohol-scented air blew toward me as he breathed out.

“Mmm. That’s good stuff.” He poured another drink.

We sat there for a while, the two of us, him putting his booze away in heavy gulps and me nursing my tumbler until it was empty. By the time I had finished, the burn didn’t bother me so bad anymore and I found I actually liked the flavor. A slow, steady buzz relaxed the tension in my shoulders and back, making my eyelids droopy with weariness.

“Have another?” Mike asked, holding up the half-empty bottle.

“No, I’m good. Think I’ll go lay down now.”

“Okay. Get some sleep, kid. Gonna be a long day tomorrow.”

I nodded as I trudged toward the stairs.

One of the guest bedrooms had a set of bunk beds on one side of the room and a single bed on the other. I doubted any of the others would want the top bunk, so I headed that way. Just beyond the doorway, I heard the sound of gentle snoring and stopped. Looking down to my right, I saw Sophia curled under the blanket in the single bed, eyes closed, mouth partially open. The sneering expression of contempt from earlier was gone, replace by the smooth, guileless innocence of sleep. It was an effort of will not to step closer and run a finger along the soft line of her cheek. I resisted, though, and took off my boots before climbing into the top bunk. It occurred to me Sophia might be angry I chose to sleep in the same room as her, but right then, I was too exhausted to care.

I managed to lever myself into the middle of the bed before the waves took me under.

*****

One of the perks of Dale’s cabin was both the water heater and the stove ran off a rather large propane tank. According to an invoice on the table in the foyer, the propane supplier had been out less than two weeks ago to fill it up. As Tyrel and I made breakfast for the group, I thought longingly of the hot shower I planned to take that afternoon.

Another interesting development was Sophia’s markedly increased appetite. The few other times I had broken bread with her she had eaten like a very small rabbit with severe food allergies. The next morning, however, she filled her bowl with two heaping scoops of rice and beans, grabbed a handful of tortillas, and carried her food into the living room where she plopped down on the sofa and ate alone, sullen gaze directed at the television’s blank screen.

The rest of us were equally ravenous, each one sitting at either the island or the dining room table and scarfing our breakfast wordlessly. We had discovered earlier, to our pleasant surprise, the cabin still had running water. When I asked how that was possible without electricity, Blake solved the mystery. “Gravity fed,” he remarked. “Gotta be a water tower nearby. Better enjoy it while we can; that tower runs empty, we’re drinking lake water.”

I decided to move up my timetable on the shower.

Lauren and I washed and dried the dishes after breakfast, both of us preoccupied with our own thoughts. Everyone else looked equally worried, eyes distant and puffy around the edges, hands clasped on tabletops or fidgeting absently. I got the feeling we were all waiting for someone to speak up, but no one was quite willing to be the first to do it. Finally, Dad stood up, leaned against the kitchen counter where everyone could see him, and cleared his throat.

“First thing we need to do is gather supplies,” he said. I watched Blake and Tyrel nod silently while Mike merely grunted.

“From where?” Sophia asked. It was the first thing she had said all morning.

“The other houses around here,” Dad replied. “The empty ones, anyway. We also need to see who our neighbors are, figure out if they’re friendly or not.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Tyrel asked. “I mean, not to sound too callous, but we got enough mouths to feed as it is. Not to mention the natives might not take too kindly to us pilfering from their neighbors. Especially as they might be having the same notion.”

Dad’s eyes drifted to me and hardened. “Then we go armed and make it clear we’re not to be fucked with.”

“Joe,” Lauren said.

“What?”

“We can’t just go around stealing from people.”

“Like hell we can’t.”

“Are you listening to yourself?” Lauren said. “You’re talking about robbing people. That’s insane. What the hell has gotten into you?”

Dad heaved a long sigh and shook his head. “Lauren, I don’t think you’ve quite grasped the gravity of the situation.”

Lauren stiffened with anger. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Dad pointed a finger at the dark orange glow pressing through a curtained window in the living room. “You see that out there? You know why it still looks like that? Because those fires we escaped yesterday are still burning, that’s why. And they’re not going to stop any time soon.”

“The government will get everything under control, it’s just a matter of-”

“No, Lauren,” Dad said sadly. “They won’t. We’re already past the point of no return.”

My stepmother’s lips began to tremble. “Don’t say that, Joe. You don’t know that.”

“Lauren,” Blake cut in, “open your eyes. The eastern seaboard is gone. Do you understand that? Everything east of the Mississippi—New York, DC, Boston, all of it. Gone. No one knows where the President is. More than half of Congress and the Senate are presumed dead. Martial law has been declared nationwide, not that it’s gonna do a damn bit of good. State and local governments are collapsing everywhere. What’s left of the military is in full retreat, headed for Colorado Springs. We’re on our own, Lauren. No one is coming to help us.”

The room went still as Lauren stared at Blake, her face slowly crumbling. She had heard the same newscasts and radio announcements we had, but evidently had not absorbed the full consequence of their meaning. Like many people in the early days of the Outbreak, she simply could not wrap her head around the fact that the rule of law had broken down and it was not coming back. After a harsh stretch of silence, Lauren’s shoulders began to shake and she let out a dry, choking sob.

“Honey …” Dad moved toward her, hands outstretched. Lauren slapped them away.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” she screamed, and fled up the stairs.

I stared in shock. I had seen Lauren upset before, but never anything like that. It rattled me. I began to follow her up the stairs, but as my foot touched the first step, my dad’s voice cut the air like a whip.

“Don’t, Caleb.”

“But Dad-”

“Trust me, son. Let her be for now. She needs some time alone.”

A door slammed upstairs. “Are you sure?” I said. “I think I should try to talk to her.”

Dad approached and gently led me back to my chair. “Like I said, just leave her be for a while. I’ll go talk to her in a little bit.”

“Okay,” I muttered, not convinced.

“Mike, you stay here with the girls,” Dad said. “Blake, you’re with me; we’ll take my truck. Tyrel, you and Caleb take Mike’s Tundra. First things first, let’s try to make contact with the other people in the area. I don’t think there will be many of them, but we need to know their disposition regardless. ROE is best judgment, but try not to start a fight if you can avoid it. Questions?”

We all shook our heads.

“Tyrel, you and Blake know what to do. Caleb, follow Tyrel’s lead and do exactly as he says. Clear?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. Let’s get moving.”