Apocalypse Empire (Book 1): Apocalypse Origins (31 page)

"You did," Greg replied. "The man I was
chasing escaped on it."

"That was close," Jackson said. 

Greg nodded and walked towards Carol, pulling her into a
tight hug. "You okay?"

"I'll be fine," she replied. "I'm so glad you
made it."

"I was right behind you the whole time."

"We've got a piece of business to deal with,"
James said.

"What's that?" Greg asked looking in his
direction.

"We've got a survivor." He nodded towards two of
his men and they tossed a man to the ground.

"Please don't kill me!" he begged as he rose to
his knees.

Greg raised an eyebrow, "He doesn't seem like those
other guys we fought."

"That's because it's Jeremy," Shirley said with
disgust in her voice.

"Ah," Greg replied. He glanced at one of the
guards. "Give her your sidearm." The guard complied and Shirley
looked at him questioningly.

Greg shrugged, "You decide what you want done with him.
I'd have him killed regardless but thought you might want the honors."

"Very much," Shirley replied as she cocked the
gun.

"Wait!" Jeremy begged. "I can be useful. I can
tell you things! Things about the men you fought."

Greg shrugged, "I know all I need to. They attacked us
and we killed them. It's done."

"It's not done," Jeremy replied shaking his head.
"There's a man. His name is William Dray and he's the one responsible for
all this."

"All this what?" Greg
asked curiosity growing.

"The infection. Everything that's gone wrong."

Greg blinked. Was this guy serious? He knew the person
responsible for everything they were dealing with? And what did he mean it's
not done? "I'm sorry, Shirley. I need you to wait a little bit."

Shirley nodded, "I understand. If he's telling the
truth this is pretty important."

"Remember what I said, Shirley."

"About what?" she asked.

"We don't keep prisoners."

She smiled grimly and walked away from the group. Jeremy
potentially had important info but she didn't want to hear his sniveling voice
right now. 

"Alright," Greg said, "start talking."

"You'll let me go?" Jeremy asked.

"Maybe, maybe not. There's a chance you get to live if
you tell me something useful."

Jeremy nodded enthusiastically, not seeing the grim look in
the people around him. They already knew the man's fate was sealed. They
remember Greg's speech when he said they wouldn't be keeping prisoners.

"The man is William Dray. He's a billionaire out
of Emerald Falls. He orchestrated everything."

***

Olson finally managed to reach the helicopter. He'd nearly
lost his grip when that bastard had managed to score a lucky hit.
His labored breathing also hadn't made the climb any easier. He must
have at least one broken rib from when that man had unloaded those rounds into
his chest. The men inside the helicopter pulled him inside and he sighed in
relief.

"What happened to your eye?" one of them asked.

Olson touched his face and felt wetness coat his hand. Now
that he was thinking about he also felt pain on the side of his head. Exploring
further, he discovered the bullet had carved a furrow from his eye to his ear.
He'd been lucky. He had no idea how he'd managed to hold on to the ladder when
he'd been hit. He suffered silently as one of the men bandaged his wounds. They
gave him something for the pain and darkness quickly claimed him.

Early the next morning Olson found himself in Dray's
penthouse suite. He'd been rushed into surgery upon arrival but there hadn't
been anything they could do to save his eye. They in fact had to remove what
remained to avoid any complications. A patch covered the empty cavity and he
did his best not to dwell on it. After a few hours of rushed sleep, he
submitted his report and was now about to answer for his failed mission.

"Relax," Dray said from behind his expansive desk.
"If I'd wanted you killed I wouldn't have wasted the resources on
surgery."

Some of the tension left Olson's shoulders and Dray smiled
on seeing it. "I will of course punish incompetence but that doesn't seem
to be the case here. Your mission was actually a success in some ways. You
discovered three survivor groups, one of which is a potential enemy."

"Thank you, sir," Olson replied.

"I'm even going to give you a chance to get
revenge," Dray continued, "I want you to find this man's group before
they have a chance to grow."

"Of course, sir," Olson replied. Dray nodded and
looked at something on his terminal. Olson took this as his dismissal. He was
nearly out the door when Dray called out.

"Olson."

"Sir?" Olson asked as he turned to face him.

"While this mission was a success overall I expect
considerably better performance on your next task. Do you understand?"

"Of course, sir," Olson replied. Dray nodded and
Olson quickly made his exit. He breathed out a huge sigh of relief once he was
in the hallway. He'd managed to survive the day. Despite Dray's assurances, he
had no doubt that Dray could have made an example out of him, expended
resources or no. Dray rewarded success and punished failure. He had to ensure
his next mission was completely successful.

Olson headed for the firing range and got set up. He'd need
to practice to compensate for his loss of vision. He couldn't afford for
anything to affect his chances of success.

***

"What are we going to do about this?" Laura asked
looking around the table. They were sitting down to breakfast, a much needed
respite after last night's ordeal.

"We need to fight," James said.

"How?" Jackson asked. "Those guys came in
here and did exactly what they wanted. Nearly took Greg out too."

Greg snorted in response, "I was fine but I see your
point."

"We need to be more disciplined," Carol said.
"Everyone kinda ran off once the alarm was sounded."

James nodded, "Carol's right, we can't leave our leader
unprotected. You could've been killed if you weren't such a good fighter."

"I think we should all have a guard," Greg
replied. 

Everyone nodded in agreement and Jackson changed the
subject. "What do we do about Dray?"

"Nothing for now," Greg said. "Those men we
faced were way better trained than ours. We should probably assume most of his
men have that level of training which means we need to close that gap as best
we can." He looked around the table and wondered how they were going to
take what he was going to say next.

"I did some thinking while we were on the roof."
They had waited for the sunrise to disperse some of the infected before
fighting through to their vehicles. Fortunately, they'd been able to get
through without any casualties. 

"Dray is building an empire. We need to do the same. We
have to match him in resources if we're gonna defend ourselves." Greg
chuckled self-consciously. "I know how that sounds. Originally I thought
we'd find a spot and just have to worry about defending ourselves from the
infected."

"That's not gonna work anymore," James said.

"It won't," Greg agreed, "if Dray attacked
right now there isn't much we could do. They've got good training and vast
resources...at least one helicopter and who knows what else."

"He must have been planning this for years," Laura
said. "How can we catch up when he has such a head start?"

"We need to expand our forces," Greg said. "We'll
look for survivors as we travel north. Once we're set up, we can take in
smaller groups. When we've done as much of that as we can we can look to
building alliances with other groups like ours. No one's safe if Dray intends
to be some sort of emperor. We haven't survived everything we have just for
someone else to come along and put us in chains."

"When do we start?" James asked.

"Now," Greg replied.

***

Greg continued leading his people north, looking for a place
to establish themselves. It was slow going, gas was becoming scarce. In
addition to clearing the roads, they had to spend a significant portion of
their day siphoning fuel for their caravan. In addition, they had to deal with
car trouble. Some of the vehicles were overheating despite Gio's best efforts
to keep everything in working condition. The delays weren't all wasted time
however. They size of their group began drawing people to their banner and they
were able to increase the size of their fighting forces. Every day, Greg and
James put the group through rigorous training, both in krav maga and firearms
training. As the weeks passed, their ragtag group began to resemble and actual
military. 

As they made their way through Wisconsin, Greg began having
the group park for several days at a time. This allowed more time for training
as well as hunting to supplement their dwindling packaged food supply. During
this time, Greg would also send out scouts to look for survivors. In this way,
Greg was able to increase his budding army to over one hundred fighting men.
They were poorly armed, most had whatever weapons they had managed to scrape
together during the early days of the Collapse but Greg was encouraged. They
were getting trained and would be a force to be reckoned with once they had
some proper gear. They men were also fiercely loyal. Many of the men
had come with their families, be it family they had from before the Collapse or
family they had adopted after. They were more than grateful to serve the man
who was giving them regular food and place to stay. 

As the weeks passed, there was little resemblance to the
ragtag group of survivors that had fled the trailer park. Walking through the
camp one would detect a tangible sense of order. Nearly every hand was set to a
task, the necessities of survival left little room for idleness. This order
carried over to every aspect of camp life, from the way the tents were erected
to the placement of latrines. The group had several military veterans to thank
for that level of organization. The camp had been haphazard at first. People
had set up their tents wherever they found room. The veterans had suggested the
camp would benefit from being set up in a more organized fashion. Greg had
ordered it implemented and had been surprised when he noticed an improvement in
morale. 

Walking through the camp, he received a crisp salute from
the men on duty. The men had been resistant to the idea of a traditional salute
and had started using a closed right fist over the heart. Greg wondered if some
of the solidarity was due to their new attire. The scavengers had been really
successful during their journey and one thing they had acquired was a uniform
of sorts for the guard. It consisted of black cargo pants along with matching
boots, shirt, and jacket. On their right shoulder, each wore a triangular
patch. It consisted of a stylized "GG" over a field of
white. The men had taken to calling themselves the Gregorian Guard. Greg had
been amused at first but had quickly stopped when he saw how much pride they
took in the name. 

Greg reached the center of the camp and looked at the seat
of their fledgling government. It was just several tents sewn together but it
got the job done. Greg felt a sense of pride as he looked at it. They'd done
this, they were building something from the ashes. Greg nodded to the guards on
duty and stepped inside.

***

William set Olson's report to the side. This was an
interesting development. This group was organized enough that they could be a
potential threat. It was good that he had told Olson to get rid of them. Their
leader was particularly impressive. He had survived an assassin's blade and had
nearly killed Olson in battle. He had smirked when he read about the man
unloading his clip into Olson's chest. There was a viciousness there that
he could appreciate. 

He'd only glanced at the report before Olson had arrived for
his meeting. A more thorough look had him wondering if he'd been too hard
on him. It appeared that Olson had simply been outmatched. Who would think the
man would have used an elevator shaft to flank him? 

His intercom chimed and he reached over to answer.
"Yes, Alanna?"

"I apologize for the interruption. Watkins and Reel are
ready for the conference call."

"Thank you, Alanna." William hit the button and
watched as the screen descended from the ceiling. It flickered to life and
William schooled his features to keep the smile off his face when he saw Reel's
haggard appearance. The weeks had not been kind to him. Watkins looked much the
same, worried. But that was to be expected.

"Gentlemen," William greeted them pleasantly.

"Dray, Reel," Watkins replied.

Reel nodded and focused on William. "You're looking
rather immaculate," his distaste forcing his lip to curl up a bit.

"One must maintain a proper appearance," William
replied. "It's good for morale."

Reel shook his head in dismissal. "I haven't had time
to worry about morale. I've lost half my men to the infected."

"How'd that happen," William asked in pretend
sympathy. 

Reel hesitated, no doubt aware William was taking
pleasure in his misfortune. "There was a breach. One of the men had failed
to report that he had been bitten."

"Ah," William replied. There wouldn't be a lapse
like that among his men. William rewarded success but his men knew an error of
that magnitude would see their entire family executed.

"I've been having trouble of my own," Watkins
chipped in. "Does that offer to join you still stand?"

"Of course, Watkins. You're more than welcome."

Watkins visibly sighed in relief, "Thank you Dray. I
will of course place my remaining resources at your disposal."

William nodded. That was precisely as it should be. Watkins
knew his place. He understood that he would survive because William permitted
him to do so.