Fortunes & Failures - 03 (32 page)



Shaw tossed the half-eaten can of beef stew aside. He knew deep down that throwing food away was not a luxury he could afford. He just couldn’t bring himself to care.

A very small voice in his mind told him to be thankful. Had he stayed at The Basket even one more night, he would’ve met the same fate as the rest of his men.

His men.

That was a joke now, wasn’t it? Early on he’d assumed the role of leader. At first it was only a handful of them, but he’d run into others over time and built an army. In his mind, his mission was to reclaim his country from these abominations.

Somewhere along the way, he’d adopted a certain set of beliefs and values. Always he heard the voice of his father guiding him. At least, that’s what he told himself. Only…it had slowly changed. They weren’t saving the weak, or rescuing people. The voice began to preach the need for strength if he were to survive.
They
had caused this. The liberals and the bleeding hearts with their attacks on The Word and their desire to become greater than God had brought this plague down on America and, for all he knew, the world.

Where had it gone so wrong? How had he convinced himself that capturing women and treating them like chattel was okay? And now here he was…alone. All those who had followed…dead. What had that one fella said to him in that RV campground that night?
“…you can play Sparta all you like, but those who don’t know history…
”

Shaw flashed back to a day in high school. He’d been walking out of the locker room after gym class. Three guys were playing a game of ‘Keep Away’ with some scrawny kid’s clarinet. He’d stepped in, daring any or all three of them to try that with him. There hadn’t been any takers.

During Basic, he’d dropped to the rear of the column during the full-pack ten-miler to keep this one recruit, Jones, from falling out. After three weeks of extra PT, Jonesy was in the front, leading the platoon with him. The Company Commander had summoned him to his office to let Shaw know that he knew.

Now…he’d turned into a bully. Yes, he’d swore to protect, uphold, and defend the Constitution. And even after the accident had forced him out of the Marine Corps, he returned home and became active in the church. He went to other families’ houses on the weekends and helped with repairs or whatever he could do. He maintained his love for God and Country.

Then…hell on earth happened. His father died. He began to fight for survival. His army began to grow. One day, while searching for supplies or survivors, they’d lost a couple of men fighting their way in to save two women trapped inside the city jail in Heath. It’d turned out that both women weren’t officers, but a pair of prostitutes. The men had been furious, so, he’d looked away while his ‘boys’ engaged in a little ‘recreation’ with the two whores.

It was a few days later when he and a few of the men decided that it was on their shoulders to rebuild society. It had fallen to decay and must be rebuilt. Somewhere along the way, the idea got twisted. By then, he’d veered so far off course that he couldn’t find his way back. The power of absolute authority had absolutely corrupted him. He’d stopped questioning when his search and salvage parties returned only female survivors. Then, he’d gone out on a run with the men. It’d been for appearances sake. Yet, he’d become the bully…the bad guy…

The rumble of an engine snapped him out of his daydream. It was close, just not visible. With the whole world apparently dead, sound had the tendency to play tricks on the ears. He sat quietly and listened trying his best to determine exactly where it was coming from.

Scanning the east parking lot of The Basket, he spotted something that would suit his purpose. It was a simple Ford pick-up, and it would do just fine for his purposes.

All his thoughts of vengeance had dissipated. Much of it replaced by shame. Perhaps that unseen vehicle would be his salvation. Charlton Shaw was a capable person, a trained military man, an extra set of eyes to keep vigilant watch. And, if those he encountered were…like he’d allowed
himself
to become, then perhaps he could atone for his sins and heroically save those too weak to defend themselves.

Yes
, Shaw thought as he duckwalked between two charred husks that had once been large cargo trucks,
he had a second chance at redemption
. He’d left the hospital the day his father died and wandered onto the wrong path. This time it would be different. He could see it now. God had offered him a chance to start over. He’d been stripped of all his power.

Only His divine power could’ve so masterfully called him away from the source of all his misdeeds. And now, like Sodom and Gomorrah, The Basket had been laid to waste because there were none righteous inside, no, not one. He, Charlton Shaw, would now offer his service to those in need…starting with the individuals as careless as to be driving along this stretch of road.

Looking around, he observed that many of the abominations had noticed the sound. They didn’t seem to suffer from the same confusion he had initially, and were turning in the general direction and shuffling or dragging themselves towards whoever it was. Those poor fools would be attracting attention from all over. If they weren’t careful, one of those mobs like the one that had overwhelmed the barricades here at The Basket and killed all within, would be on them.

Scurrying across the one stretch of open ground that remained between him and the truck, Shaw was forced to take down a few of the creatures on the way. One of them had been one of his men. He worked economically, driving his saber into the face of one, decapitating another. Then he saw her…only the upper portion of her body remained. She’d literally been ripped in half.

Senator Angela Bergman.

This is another sign
, Shaw thought as he stood over the pitiful creature. He kicked its hands away as it tried in vain to grasp his boots.

“Please accept my apology,” he whispered as he plunged the blade deep into the top of its skull. “Go with God.”

Seconds later, Shaw was inside the truck, striking the wires together that turned the engine over. Shifting into drive, he plowed through a few scattered walking dead as he roared out onto the open road



Reginald woke to discover Morris curled up on his lap. He scratched the feline between its ears, earning a deep vibrating purr. He had no idea how long he’d been asleep, and even worse, he realized that he didn’t care. The rumble from his belly said otherwise.

“Off you go.” He scooped the cat into his hands, setting it on the chair. Morris nestled down into the still warm seat, uninterested.

Stopping to check inside each of the observation chambers, he was not surprised that the conditions hadn’t changed at all. He paused at the last one. This one at least had promise. Unfortunately, it was not likely that people would flock to the Antarctic. At ten below zero, the subject was immobile. Punching a few things into the keypads, he brought the warmers online. In about an hour, the temperature inside would rise to thirty-five degrees.

Passing through the lab, he paused to check his log. He’d really fallen off in his work. The past several weeks had been more about trying to please Lucy. Well, he hitched his pants up and pushed into the examination section, that was going to end. He was a doctor…a scientist…and he had a job to do. As a reminder, he turned on the monitor.

“Well, well, well,” Reginald mused. “It seems that we have some new faces today.”

He scanned the crowd; none of this bunch looked familiar. Still, the numbers were staggering. As far back as the camera allowed him to see, a field of heads swayed. They were packed in tighter than ever and showing no sign of leaving.

He gazed at his empty examination tables, coming to rest on the one that once held Lucy in a blissful state of quiet sedation. A tiny bit of regret niggled at the back of his mind. He knew that there was no way he could do what it took to put her back on the table. When she’d been nothing more than an anonymous test subject, he would have had no qualms in doing whatever science required. However, she was no longer a test subject. For the same reason you don’t name lab or farm animals that will eventually grace the examination or dinner table, his shoulders slumped. No, he couldn’t kill Lucy.

“No use dwelling,” Reginald said aloud. “I’ll just have to make do.”

He went over his list of animal notes. Within minutes, he was happily comparing notes and various test results, oblivious to time. The hours ticked away as he immersed himself in his work. At some point, he glanced up at the monitor and realized that darkness had fallen on the world outside.

Reginald checked the observation chamber, not in the least bit surprised that the once frozen occupant had not only thawed, but now stood in a corner, obviously undamaged. He brought up his notebook and scribbled furiously, pausing only once to realize that he was happy.



He dished out plenty of beat-downs in his life. And since this whole 
deader
 situation started, he’d wasted plenty of those things.  But Juan wasn’t a killer.  Taking a life from a living, breathing person sat on his chest like a sixteen-ton weight, slowly crushing him under its unbearable pressure.

When that couple—Sandra and LaVon—had reached the house, there had been a lot of yelling and screaming.  Juan heard none of it.  All he heard were Mackenzie’s sobs and it cut into him like nothing he’d ever experienced in his life. Then…that newcomer, Keith, had walked in.  The conversations taking place around him had been nothing more than an irritating buzz up to that point.  Then, he heard Mackenzie’s voice.

“Keith and I were engaged.”

That had been all he could take.  Juan had stepped over the body at his feet and made his way through the kitchen.  Out the back door, across the gentle slope of the field he walked, his head swimming with images of Mackenzie, occasionally shattered by the vision of the two men dying from gunshots fired by him. The look of pain and surprise that had been plastered on the face of the one he’d shot in the throat being the worst. That one had looked up at him, his mouth moving but only able to emit a drowning gurgle; he’d been unable to actually beg for help.  Still, Juan had seen his mouth form the word “Please” and he stood there. Stood over him and watched him die; drowning in his own blood. And with Margaret lying dead just a few feet away, he simply watched the person die.  Only, at some point, the wall of regret came crashing down.

He thought back to when he’d first encountered Margaret…staring into the barrel of her gun. And that had been right after he’d saved her life.  The woman had flipped out, claiming that he’d come to loot…or worse.  Mackenzie had talked her down. Then there had been the arrival of the newcomers: JoJo, Thad, and Keith.  She’d shot Keith, nearly killing him.  There was no telling what had happened when these most recent strangers arrived.

“Hey, Juan,” a voice said from behind him.

Juan looked around.  He’d wandered to the edge of the property, but like those stupid 
deaders
, he’d stopped at the fence. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Thad making his way down the gentle slope between the long rows of withering cantaloupe vines.  Crossing his arms over his chest, he waited on the other man.

”Dude,” Thad huffed as he jogged up, “we need your ass back in there.”

“What for?”

“Let’s see,” Thad counted off on his fingers, “five dead people…one of them being Margaret.  A hysterical woman, two very nervous folks who are wondering if we plan on dusting them like we did their friends, any of this striking you as a reason why we could use your ass back there?”

Juan opened his mouth to speak, then simply stared over Thad’s shoulder, causing the other man to turn around.  Keith was making his way towards them, his arms around a sobbing Mackenzie. The two stood silently as they waited. Thad missed nothing, watching a parade of emotions march through Juan’s eyes.

“Hey,” Keith managed. He looked up at Juan, “I think your girl needs you, bro.” He eased Mackenzie from under his arm and to the surprised Juan who initially seemed reluctant to open his arms and accept her.

Mackenzie sunk into Juan’s chest her tear-streaked face instantly soaking through Juan’s shirt. He held her close, but his eyes looked curiously at Keith.

Thad assessed the scene and was confident nothing bad would happen.  Patting both men on the shoulder, he headed back up to the house leaving them to sort out what ever weird dynamic seemed to have risen out of nowhere.

“I think it’d be best if you two stay gone for a bit,” Keith finally broke the silence. “Thad, JoJo, and I will take care of…” His mouth hung open for a moment. Then he flicked his gaze to Mackenzie, then back to Juan. Then, he just nodded and turned to head back up to the house.

Juan watched him leave. Confusion warred with curiosity. But as Mackenzie continued to weep, his attention returned to the woman in his arms. He couldn’t think of one single word to say, so he simply stood there holding her as she cried.

“She’s gone,” Mackenzie said, startling Juan with its sadness.

He looked down to find her face turned up to his.  Even with red, puffy eyes, blotchy cheeks and a runny nose, Mackenzie was beautiful.  He wanted very much to say something or do something that would make her feel better, but he’d never been really good with words.

Juan wanted to ask what the heck she was talking about, but felt it would probably be best to let her come out with things on her own. So, he tightened his hold on Mackenzie just a bit and kept his mouth shut.