The Surviving Son (Valkyrie Book 2) (11 page)

Abel’s voice broke me out of a dead sleep and I found him
standing above me with a machete in one hand and a squirming
rabbit in the other. For a moment I thought I was dreaming until the
boy landing a swift kicked into my ribs. My first reaction was to lash
out upon the ill-mannered juvenile, however I restrained my temper
and rose from my dusty earthen bed and turned to wake up Steph.

“No!” He scowled. “She sleep, you come.”
Without protest I follow the boy out into the dark forest.
“Where are we going?” I asked, but received no answer.
The moonless sky above provided us with little illumination but

did produce a magnificent view of the Milky-Way as it stretched
remarkably across the heavens with brilliance. The mammoth
hemlocks that canvas this mountain-side cast ominous shadows
upon the myriad of shadows from everything else, the dead could be
all about us and we would never know it. And the eerie silence was
muffled over our deafening footsteps as the occasional chorus of
hungry nocturnal owls echoed like ghosts.

Already it was apparent that we were in for a smoldering
summer day, as I estimated the temperature to be in the midseventies, our landscape barely cooling during the night. Already I
had broken a sweat, and panted heavily, trying with all my might to
catch my breath as well as keep pace with the unhindered boy. He
blazed across the mountainside quietly and with purpose, never once
looking back to see how I was doing.

Just as a delicate shade of blue began to stretch across the sky,
the rabbit that Abel carried firmly in hand had become fed-up with
his situation. From the shallow depths of its lungs, it released a blood
curdling squeal that reverberated throughout the forest, stopping my
heart and waking Mother Nature from a peaceful slumber, not to
mention potentially alerting the Infected. Of course there were no
howls, no screeches of rage, but my hands trembled in fear just the
same at every pitiful wail from the helpless hare.

Every minute that passed on our trek the forest became brighter
and brighter, revealing all those shadows as mere bush and boulder,
easing the concerns that clawed my nerves like a spastic cat. And as
dawn drew upon us we stopped before a large crevice that stretched
up through the mountains steep ledges. Only a mere five feet across
and maybe thirty feet long, but the fissure itself was quite deep, dark
and unmeasurable. But somewhere within that darkness a raspy
repetitive breath could be heard, undulating like a soft wind through
a canyon.

The boy, still silent and branding a look of irritation, pulled a
small pocket knife from his trousers and held the rabbit firmly above
the weathered fracture. The rabbit fervently struggled from the boys
grip, releasing on last squeal before Abel slashed its throat with one
swift stroke. A stream of blood trickling down its pelt before pouring
into the rocks, and the raspy breaths from below became louder and
followed by a distinct and clumsy shuffle.

Nonchalantly Abel opened his hand and let the rabbit drop
down into the darkness which soon landed with a muddle plop,
followed by the sounds of flesh being torn, smacking lips, and
crunching bones. Silently I watched the boy as he stared down into
the darkness without emotion, his face as empty as that void. I was
confused, uncertain of the significance of his actions, and unwilling
to question him in fear of once again infuriating his temper.

It wasn’t long before the sun had completely crested over the
mountains, and a blazing beam of brilliance poured down from the
canopy and into the hole before us. The temp had already jumped
another ten degrees, but I ignored the swelter as I peered a mere
eight feet down into the hole, there, huddled the decrepit remains of
an infected soul, desperately tearing away at the rabbit carcass like
a ravenous animal. He was adorn in mangy animal hides, and his
hair, although scraggly and matted, hung like greasy strands down
over his face. However, within moments, when all the flesh had been
picked clean from the bones, this diseased man looked up begging
for more.

The boy said as he knelt down to get a closer look as his father,
at Adam, at this renowned and tormented Survivor. For me, it was
surreal, like meeting America’s forefathers after a hundred years, or
in this case laying eyes inside their historic tombs and seeing the
awesome power of decay. I slumped down on the edge and just
watched as the too stared back at each other, and in Adam’s eyes
was that same recognition that I had seen within my daughters own.
It was all too much.

I assume at the time Adam had ventured off to confront the
raiders that had moved in next door that this crevice was masked by
layers of forest debris. Hidden beneath a blanket of twigs and leaves
just waiting for someone or something to wander over it. How he
ended up with the infection may never be known, but what was
apparent, was that he had fared well over the past year. Aside from
the flat eyes, and the pasty gray skin, he had not begun the complete
metamorphosis that most succumb too, and thankfully he had not
contracted the latest mutation. If so, this vertical tomb would be no
challenge for him to scale.

“How you know my Papa.” The boy finally asked.
“I was there.” I said. “At the ocean during your birth.”
“You watched?”
“No, Abel, I found your mother after…” I paused, once again

choosing my
words wisely. “After she had gone to sleep.”
“You did not try to save Mama?” He asked in concern.
“By then it was too late. And you and your Papa had already

moved on.” He just stared at me, waiting for more. “I found one of
your father’s journals lying next to your mother. His story was
profound, and is highly regarded amongst my people.” I’m not sure
if he truly understood.

“You have it here?” He asked.
“It’s back at the camp, but yes.”
“Will you read it to me?”
“Of course.” Isaid, smilingat his first hint of humanity. “Abel,”

I continued. “He is suffering, you do know that right.” I said
gesturing down to his father who was slowly becoming agitated.
“We should set him free, end his pain.”

Adam stretched his arms upwards, reaching for his own flesh
and blood, but not in compassion but in hunger. Abel in return reach
down and briefly their fingertips brushed one another’s. A single
tear fell from the boy’s eyes, splattering upon his father’s forehead
like a stray rain drop upon the sidewalk. I knew what I had to do, I
had to free this remarkable man, but the boy would not allow it. And
surely he would kill me if I defied his wishes, so I racked my brain,
searching for options to coax Abel into making the right decision.

My first thought was to sneak off during the night and simply
crush his skull with a rock. However, it is doubtful I’d find my way
back here, and most likely get lost. Let alone the fact that it is almost
impossible to get anything by the boy, he seems to hear all and
watches me like a hawk. So I tossed the idea away and settled for
simply debating the boy. Chipping away at his stubbornness until he
was ready to release his old man.

We stood above the crevice for some time, mostly in silence,
but on occasion the boy would speak. Of course, not to me, but to
his father. In a way he seemed to converse with him, asking and
answering questions, as if he could hear the man’s every thought.
Eerie does not even begin to describe it, with each word a cold shiver
ran down my body. But I did not interrupt, instead I watched and
listened, taking note of the odd and mournful interaction.

“Yes, Papa, I did.” He said. “No, I have food.” He uttered with
a smile. “They like me. The girl too. And I like her.” His face
blushing. “She’s much older than me. But I can wait.” It was cute,
like a school boy telling his father of his first crush. “I will be back
in two moons, I’ll bring chicken this time.” And with another quick
reach and brush against his father’s filthy fingers, Abel rose to his
feet and headed back towards the cabin.

“How did you find him?” I asked as I
followed.
“His screams.” He muttered. “While hunting.” He paused a
moment, stopping mid step, then looked up at me with the saddest
of eyes. “I ran home, to get rope, but when I returned,” His head
hung low, “He was changed.” I could see his guilt.
“It wasn’t your fault.” I mentioned. “You did all that you could
do.”
“I could have climbed down. Helped lift him up. Instead of
leaving him there.” He stammered.
“There is always ‘Should Haves’ ‘Could Haves’ and ‘What Ifs’
in any situation.” I said, trying to ease his guilt with some
inspiration. “All that matters is that you tried. Your father saw that.”
“Did you try to save my mother?” He said in anger.
“In a way Idid. Ididn’t know about her until she was gone. But,
she passed because I was trying to save all people, her included. I
am saddened by the outcome, and I too feel guilty. But on the other
hand, she gave you a gift, which is why I am here.”
“A gift?” He asked.
“Yes. You do know that you are different, right?”
“I’m not like you, I’m like them.”
“You are better than them.” I said, referring to the damned.
“You hold the secret to defeating them.”
“I do?”
“Yes, Deep inside.”
Abel looked down at himself, pondering my words, but said no
more. Slowly we continued on, back to the cabin, in our own dark
and endless depression. Amongst all of those who have suffered
over the years, it is this boy’s suffering that pains me the most. He
knows not of the betrayal of man, nothing of the corruption that once
fed society. And yet, my compassion for him is greater than that of
a child taken by the Infected. He suffers from indifference, a black
pearl in a sea of white, and his only aspirations are to fill the
emptiness of losing his mother, and now his father.

“What if you could talked to him?” I
asked Abel as we sat in
front of the fire, listening to the sounds of the evening pass by. “So
you could say goodbye.” My offer was both improbable and
premature.

“You will just have to trust me. But onlyif you promise to allow
me to end his pain afterwards.” I included.
Abel sat at the edge of his chair, staring into the glowing embers
and contemplating my offer. Even though earlier it appeared that he
was having a conversation with his lost patriarch, I knew it was all
just mournful delusion, and to actually have words with his beloved
would bring closure for him. So, after a few moments the boy turned
towards me and with eyes full of curiosity and despair he silently
nodded.
To achieve such a task, will require more than just luck, I
thought to myself.

Adam struggled in his birch-tree chair like a mad beast, fighting
the restraints and gnashing his teeth at me with furious hatred. I was
still in awe to be in his presence, even in his current condition, he
was a celebrity and I was a teenage groupie with complete
admiration. While the boy was out gathering supplies, I sat before
his father and just gazed into those empty eyes, knowing all too well
the he was consciously staring back at me.

It took a better part of the day for Abel and me to subdue and
hoist the large man out of that crevice, but it wasn’t without its
depressing rewards. After lassoing his arms and bagging his head, I
lowered myself into his tomb to secure the rest of his body so that
the boy could haul his old man to the surface. As Adam’s legs flailed
on the way up, I got a glimpse of his demise, a putrid wound on his
right calve. Then, Not far away within the fissure lay a pile of human
bones, assumingly the Infected that turned Adam, and upon the
ledge wall was the boy’s name, Abel, scratched sloppily into the
stone, the L stretched out longer than any of the other letters, and
less identifiable. The change was quick, far too fast for him to
complete the inscription.

The hike back was fairly uneventful, with
Adam’s arms
restrained and eyes covered, he became almost docile, and followed
our lead with little resistance. When we arrived back at the cabin
Steph was awake and cooking breakfast upon the fire, two cans of
aged and unidentifiable soup, Mrs. Smith’s Chicken Noodle I
assumed. Unknowing of our objective, my young assistant
immediately became hysterical at the sight of our new friend, and
grabbed a rusted axe to put an end to the threat. The fury in her eyes
was unlike any other emotion I had seen her possess, once a quite
intellectual kitten, had become a frenzied cougar.

“STEPH! NO!” I shouted as I held tight onto
Adam as he
writhed within his binds.
“YOU NO HURT PAPA!” Abel cried as he stormed forward to
block her approach. She stopped mid step as her eyes darted from
me to Abel and then the bound monster.
“Papa?” She questioned.
“Help us.” I ordered, there was no time for explanation.
I was highly concerned that I would not be able to duplicate the
same procedure that had opened my eyes to the true terror of this
infliction. But I had made a promise, and if it should fail, I could at
least die at the hands of the boy with dignity, knowing that I tried to
give something back to Abel and to the Survivor. However I hoped
Steph would be my saving grace, the boy’s infatuation for her was
all that I had going for me in the end.
After a while of mesmerizing, Steph kicked me into gear. It
seemed fitting to get as much done as possible in the boys absence,
as not to trouble Abel any further than he already was. I had tasked
the boy with scavenging further supplies for the procedure,
necessary supplies, but also just a diversion for the boy while we
worked. After strapping the man down to the chair I secured a twoby-four vertically to the backrest of the chair, I utilized a thick layer
of ducttape to restrain Adam’s head from bucking forward as I cut
into his skull with the bone saw from my pack. The crown pried off
fairly easily revealing his dark and infectious gray-matter.
Respectfully I placed it into a box to reattach when the procedure
was complete, I wanted to treat his remains with as much respect as
possible, for Abel and out of consideration for Adam.
“Do you think it will work?” Steph asked as she organized our
tools.
“This is not a typical controlled setting, so it is highlyunlikely.”
“Abel won’t take it well.”
“Obviously.” I retorted. “I am relying on you to keep his
emotions in check.”
At that moment the fumbling racket of the boy struggling
outside could be heard as he returned. Stepping out of the cabin I
found him dragging a makeshift sled brimming with copper wires, a
dozen or so old car batteries, and a variety of other odds and ends
that he thought may be useful. Even with the sled, it would have
been impossible for me to drag such weight up that overgrown toteroad, but the boy did it fairly quickly and with little fatigue. This
reminded me of the reason I was here, but my mission would have
to wait a little bit longer.
“I need one more item.” I said. “Rubbing Alcohol.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
“It’s a clear liquid generally in a white plastic bottle, it’s crucial
for this to work. Try looking in one of the old cabins, specifically in
the medicine cabinets.” The boy didn’t question me any further and
gingerly trotted back down the mountain as darkness slowly fell
over us.
“Alcohol?” Steph questioned.
“We need more time.” I answered.
We didn’t need the antiseptic, especially since Adam had a
good supply of moonshine leftover. It was just to keep the boy busy
and away as we continued prepping his father, and more importantly
to correct any errors I may run into. My biggest hope was to speak
with Adam prior to his son, to explain the situation, to soothe any
panic he may succumb to. Most importantly, to fulfill my ambition
of finally meeting this man, face to face.

He was coherent, blinking and gazing about the cabin in
wonder, but he did not speak. Occasionally his body would tense
and buck as his fingers tightened around the arm rests. I fear that I
may have done some damage while stumbling about in his fetid
brain as the twelve batteries were slightly too much of a jolt, even
within their weakened condition. With haste I disconnected them,
one by one, until the convulsions and clenched teeth eased off. It
was the sixth battery that did the trick, but again, there was
something preventing him from talking. I assumed one of my
electrode was in the wrong part of his cerebrum, but dared not probe
it any further.

After several minutes of addressing him directly, with no
response, I decided to unplug him completely. Ending his suffering
now would be those most humane thing to do, but explaining it to
Abel would prove highly difficult. Yet it seemed to be my only
option, and I could not look into those eyes any further, knowing
that he was looking back at me to end his suffering. Slowly I reached
over, and disconnected the fifth battery, then reach for the fourth.

“Where’s Abel?” He hoarsely m
uttered, and I froze as Steph
squealed in shock. My hand was gently holding onto the connection,
trembling from both shock and excitement. “Who are you?”

“My name is Patrick.” I stuttered as I cooled my nerves
and
withdrew my hand. “Do you know your name?”
“Yes.” He stated, but did not provide it.
“We may not have much time.”
“You mean…” He stopped, realization of the situation sinking
in, that soon he will submerge back into the depths of hell. “Why
have you done this? Just kill me!” He cried.
“Abel will be here shortly, but I need to advise you of a few
things and ask you some questions.”
“It hurts.” He whispered, the cringe across his face was the only
sign of his suffering.
Before I could address Steph, she was already filling a syringe
with pain-killers, but since all of our morphine had been stolen, she
had mix together some milder drugs. I just prayed they would be
enough. After the injection, I could still see the pain in his eyes, but
slowly they began to kick in. It was not complete suppression of his
agony, but enough for him to focus and function.
“Why are you here?” He barked, his agitation increasing.
“I am here for you, and your son. I discovered Mia’s remains in
Rockland.” I said, and his eyes grew in both anger and sorrow.
“Mia?”
“I found your journal, within the Fort.”
“GFS.” He stated.
“Yes.”
“What do you want?” He said with a growl, his hands reaching
out from under their binds, by his own will or Valkyrie’s, I can’t be
sure.
“We performed an extensive autopsy on Mia…”
“You defiled her?” Adam interrupted in anger.
“We took good care of her, even gave her a proper burial.” I
waited for a response but received only a furious gaze. “Mia was
immune to the virus, which is why I am here.”
The fury in his eyes faded into bewilderment, and soon sank
into mournful regret. A single tear, murky and polluted, shed from
his right eye as he became aware of his untimely actions back at the
fort, aware that Mia could still be around if he wasn’t so hasty. But
it wasn’t his fault, he had no way of knowing, and I would have
surely done the same. However, regret is unimportant at the
moment, I had to keep his mind on track.
“I need you to concentrate for a moment.”
“How long have I?” He ended his question prematurely.
“About a year.” I answered.
“A year?” He appeared dumbfounded by the answer. But after
a moment of contemplation he put his mind back on track. “And
you’re here for Abel?” He asked.
“Yes, we hoped he had Mia’s immunity, but it appears not, he
is in fact, infected.”
“Yes. I know.”
“Is there anything you can tell me about it?”
“No. He’s had it since birth. It is not in complete control. Idon’t
know anything else.”
“I need you to convince him to let me draw some blood and
perform a full examination.”
“Why?”
“So I can find out…” I began.
“No, why should I help you?” He said coldly.
Carefully I ponder on what I should say, as to gain his trust, and
to not enrage him further.
“For humanity. For your son, and his children to come.”
“Fuck humanity. One word from me and he will tear your throat
out.” He said, the rage in his eyes growing.
“I understand your resentment. But if I should die, the world
will burn, and your son will feel the sting of it.”
The decaying hero of our time let out a hoarse and phlegmy
chuckle.
“He would be king of the dead.”
“Maybe. But he would be a lonely king, never knowing the
touch of a woman, or the smell of his own newborn child.” The hate
in his eyes slowly faded into acknowledgment.
“If I agree, you must do something for me.” He stated, an eerie
calm hanging over him.
“Anything.”
“First, put a bullet in my head, end this agony.”
“I promise.”
“Second.” He released a pitiful cough. “When you get your
answers, you leave this mountain and let my son be.”
I thought about it for a moment, my ultimate goal was to coax
is son to return with us, but how could I refuse my own idol. After
his life-force ended, I could just go against my word, but my own
personal damnation was more unappealing than a world of the
damned.
“I swear my life on it.”
“Then go fetch my son.” He muttered, and with a quick nod of
gratitude I exited the cabin.

* * * * *
“Papa!”
The boy exclaimed as he entered the room, but not in

excitement of this morbid reunion, but in disgust of the diabolical
contraption his father was subjected to. I could see in his eyes that
Abel was mortified, enraged, and ready to kill. His fists tightened
like a clinch-knot, and the veins on his forehead bore through the
skin. But, Adam was awestruck and completely beside himself. For
a moment, brief as it may have been, he had forgotten that he was
still conscious and just stared in awe.

“Abel my son,” He finally choked out. “I can’t believe how big
you’ve grown.”
The child calmed instantly, shocked that his father was truly
speaking, unsure of what to say. I surmise that even though Adam
sees and hears all while in the zombified state, things such as time
and change are not cognitive. One could watch the world evolving
before their eyes over a vast period of time, but to them it is still that
first horrific day of their transformation. A hell overshadowing hell.
“Papa.” The boy muttered meekly.
“It’s me, Abel, I’m still here.”
“I’m sorry, Papa!” The boy broke down in tears.
“Don’t be, it is I that am sorry for you. Sorry that I never came
back.”
“I looked for you, every day, Papa.” Abel sobbed.
“I know you did, my boy has already become a man, I couldn’t
be more proud.”
“Can you stay? I don’t want you to go again.”
“No, but even though you won’t see me, I will always be with
you.” Adam said mournfully, and Abel began to sob even louder as
a drivel of snot dangled from his nose.
“Like Mama?” He asked.
“Yes,” Adam answered, “Just like Mama.” There was a second
of silence before he continued. “Abel, I need you to listen, and listen
well.” The boy picked his head up high and proud. “In a few
moments you will leave the cabin, and this man is going to put me
to sleep.” The boy gasped slightly at the words. “He is then going to
takesome of yourblood, and youwill let him.” Abelnodded in grief.
“This is your mountain now, and you will drive this man, and all
others far from it, understand?” The boy nodded once again, wiping
the tears from his eyes with his arm, then casting me a hateful glare.
Adam then turned his attention towards me.
“Leave, so I can be alone with my son.” He said coldly.
I didn’t argue, respectfully Steph and I left the cabin, however
staying close enough to try and catch their conversation. It was
immoral, yes, but I am still in enemy territory and need to avoid as
many surprises as possible. Unfortunatelythough, in Adam’s
weakened state, his voice did not carry well. And regretfully I was
only able to make out two words, one statement, which raised the
hairs on my neck and twisted my stomach into knots.
“Kill him.”
Steph heard it too and stared at me with concern. But we did not
speak of it. The two of them discussed much more, before and after
that phrase, so it is unclear as to what context he meant. But those
words played on my mind, and the thought of escaping now was in
the forefront. But, I had nothing to go back to without his blood, and
this mission would end as just another waste of resources… of lives.
Die here at the hands of a troubled boy, or make it back with the
cure for all, were my only choices.
After a half hour the boy exited his home, once again wiping
his face, and glaring at me in rage.
“He asks for you.”
The boy scorned before waltzing off into the forest as Steph
rushed after him to provide comfort, and I watch quietly as their
silhouettes melded into the darkness before reentering the cabin.
“Did you hear enough?” Adam immediately asked, reminding
me of his intelligence.
“Not quite.” I stuttered.
“Before we get on with the mercy-kill,” He coughed hoarsely,
“I have one more question.”
“Whatis it?”
“Where was she buried?” He paused a moment as I stared into
his darkened eyes, “Mia?”
“We made a tomb for her, within the Rockland break-water,
beneath your statue.”
“Statue?” He chuckled. “Old world facades.” And he was right.
“End it.” Adam cringed.
“Can I ask you another question, before we commence?”
“You’re as persistent as you are invasive.” He sneered at me,
and I waited for his answered. “Ask what you must.”
“The dayMia…” Ipaused, seeking compassion in myquestion,
“That day, back at For Rockland, I saw you standing on the breakwater holding Abel and watching the sunset. Did you notice me?”
“I did.” He muttered.
“Why did you leave, then? Why take the risk of traveling back
here rather than joining us?”
“There was greater risk a joining those who killed Mia.” He
scowled.
“I understand your animosity, and with my deepest sympathies
we did not bring you to Rockland with malice in mind. We are truly
trying to save mankind.”
“Your intentions are empty, as is all of mankind.” He muttered.
“And now you waste my time with trivial questions. End this…
NOW!”
I hesitated for a moment, unwilling to let him go, but
compassion soon defeated my selfishness. Slowly I reached for a
screwdriver lying next to my makeshift contraption and silently
moved to his rear. Again selfishness delayed my response,
I needed more from this encounter, in a way it felt unfulfilling,
pointless. And as I fought with my own demons, my own choices,
the man before me began to struggle. In frustration, or under the
influence of the virus, I did not know, nor did I ponder it much.
“DO IT!” Adam growled.
As not to send him back into Valkyrie’s veil, I left the
connections in place, and drove the screwdriver into his brain-stem.
With the hiss of his last breath Adam became still, and my heart
sank. As a heavy and dark gloominess fell over me, I worked silently
to remove our barbaric contraption before reattaching his skull and
cleaning him up for the next phase of Abel’s transition. An
enigmatic time of mourning.