Toward the Brink (Book 3) (3 page)

“Mama, please … I’m so sorry, Mama, please help me—”

After the two who had given up their side arms went out the door, Holmes slammed it shut. He didn’t think the foamers would hear it, but even if they did, Holmes and his group had a good head start.

Are they capable of hearing?
He wondered.

“Straight to that plane over there, straight to it,” Holmes bellowed once outside. The cold air was like a slap in the face from a woman at a bar who didn’t like your pickup line—an occurrence Holmes wasn’t unfamiliar with.

“Sir, is there anybody aboard that plane? I mean, what if it’s locked?”

“I saw it move off the runway, soldier, and it wasn’t the fucking wind. Now get a move on!”

The thunderous rumble behind them sounded like a cattle stampede, but there were no cows around here.

Holmes didn’t dare look back.

E
lliot brought
the truck around the front of the Global Express, as the Tall Man had assumed he would, and stopped just shy of the wing. He had doused the lights, lest they attract the attention of the foamers. The occupants inside the plane readied themselves for a fast exit with the single bag each was permitted to take. There was some dissension in this matter, but the Tall Man insisted, one bag per person. If it didn’t aid in their survival plans, then it had to be left behind—no arguments.

With most on the Global Express occupied with the exit plan, only the Tall Man and a few others witnessed the final surge of the foamers in the reflection of the flames. It reminded the Tall Man of what hell must be like. He’d never believed in hell—until now.

“Okay, I’ve seen enough. Let’s get out while we have the chance.” The Tall Man moved back from the window. He had no desire to see lives extinguished in such a horrid manner.

“Wait! Look at that,” Tom Transky called.

The Tall Man, the president, Tom, and Mulhaven saw a sliver of red light just below and behind the windows of the cockpit of the wide-bellied transport aircraft. The light seemed to waver on then off.

“Did someone flash a light at us?”

“No, Tom, I believe that’s the forward door. We have people escaping,” the Tall Man answered, “and they’re headed our way.”

“
A
s soon as
I get hold of Elliot, we’ll bring the truck around to the side, and you have everyone make a run for it. Okay, Riley?” the Tall Man said.

“Sure, but what are you gonna do, exactly?”

The Tall Man slapped Mulhaven on the shoulder and gave him a wink. “You’ll see.”

In a single movement, the Tall Man bounded through the door then dashed around the nose of the jet that had brought its occupants from Washington, D.C., to Canada in search of a place free of foamers, secure from the bedlam as society crumbled in panic. But it had landed in a foamer hell … out of the frying pan and into the fire.

“ELLIOT, ELLIOT! It’s me,
Chuck
,” the Tall Man yelled as he approached the driver’s side of the truck. Elliot remained inside with the engine running.

“Chuck! Hey, Chuck, it’s—”

“Never mind, shove over!”

Elliot was excited to see the man he held in such high regard, but the Tall Man didn’t have time for the fond memories bullshit; he had lives to save.

“You got any left?” The Tall Man referred to the ammunition stocks of the AR-15 that Elliot carried.

“I got a full clip, or almost. You want to fill me in, Chuck?”

“Okay, then, you ride shotgun. We’re on a rescue mission.”

The Tall Man threw the army truck into reverse and planted his foot on the accelerator. The tires yelped in angry protest as they hurtled backward. He couldn’t see through the rear window because of the canopy, and he stuck his head out the window.

“Tell me how I’m going on that side.”

“We’re good so far.” Elliot had no idea of the Tall Man’s intentions but wasn’t about to trouble him with questions.

Elliot looked back from his window, and as the truck rounded the front of the plane, he saw movement from the transport. He couldn’t hear any more shooting from that direction. The transport plane was now a roadside diner—for foamers.

“Chuck, we got movement coming toward us!” Elliot warned. “Chuck, we got—”

“I know, Elliot.” The Tall Man brought his head back into the cabin of the truck. “
That’s
who we’re trying to rescue before the foamers become aware of them—or us!”

Elliot nodded, then stuck his head back out to keep watch. He didn’t need to ask twice. The truck skidded to a stop in the grass of the field.

“Get out there and tell those people to get in the back, and if anyone argues, shoot ‘em!”

When Elliot got to the tailgate of the truck, he saw about fifteen people. He couldn’t make out any faces, but he saw that most were dressed in combat gear and were armed. After the run-ins they’d had with National Guard deserters and other armed mobs, Elliot didn’t feel all that comfortable with more soldiers, but after witnessing the sheer number of foamers, he thought having more armed men might not be such a bad thing.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Chuck,” he muttered under his breath before he hollered for the new arrivals to get into the back of the truck. No one complained or said a word. They did as Elliot instructed.

Elliot started back to the cabin of the truck, when a sound that came from somewhere in hell drew his attention to the transport plane. The thousands of foamers on the runway that couldn’t get inside the transport for the banquet had begun to look elsewhere for their meal.

“Holy shit!”

The Tall Man had the truck on the move before Elliot had the door open. “Get in. Get in!”

“I’m trying, Chuck, believe me, I’m—” Elliot slipped on the grass, now damp with dew. He held onto the door handle with one hand as he tried to regain his balance and prevent the AR-15 from falling.

“Fuck the rifle, let it go, let it go!” the Tall Man yelled. Elliot needed both hands to get back into the cabin.

Elliot dropped the rifle and clawed his way into the truck.

“Thanks, Chuck.”

“For what?”

“Nothing.”

The Tall Man gave his younger friend a suspicious look, then laughed.

“You’re welcome. Now let’s get our people off the plane before those fuckers get any closer.”

They stopped the big double-cabin M35 truck just short of the Express, as close as the Tall Man was prepared to go in the dark.
No more accidents, no more accidents,
he repeated to himself a few times.

“You tell those people in the back to push forward because they’ll have company, okay?”

“Got it.”

“I’ll get everyone moving as fast as I can, so you have the tailgate open and help them in.”

The Tall Man’s flashlight jerked wildly as he ran to the door of the Global Express. It was funny how the plane had started to feel like home in such a short time. Perhaps it was because of the relative safety it offered from the foamers that had stormed the other plane. Most had watched in shock, knowing they could have suffered the same fate if it hadn’t been for Elliot’s actions. He put the thought of the horrors on the other plane from his mind. Some were saved; that was positive, and he had to look at it that way. He’d lose his mind if he didn’t. He needed to focus on getting the others to safety.

You don’t have time for this.

There would be time later to reflect on the horrible loss of life, not only here, but all over the United States, Canada, hell, probably the whole world.

Had he known that Richard Holmes, aka the Hidden One, was inside the truck just a few feet from where he stood, he would have dealt with him then and there regardless of the foamers.

M
ulhaven had kept
watch for the truck’s return, and when he saw the Tall Man’s flashlight coming toward the plane, he yanked the door open.

“Damn good job, you—” Mulhaven began.

“Where’s Elliot? Where is he? Is he all right?” Cindy interrupted.

“He’s fine.” The Tall Man attempted to calm her. “He’s making room in the back of the truck.”

Cindy didn’t hear a word he said. Until she saw Elliot, she wouldn’t be satisfied that he was okay.

“Cindy!” The Tall Man grabbed her arm as she tried to slide by him. “He’s
all right,
and the quicker we get everyone out, the quicker you can be with him.”

The Tall Man’s firmness had the desired effect. “Yes. Yes of course … Thanks, Chuck.” She reached out in the dark and squeezed the Tall Man’s forearm before she went back to help the others.

“Let’s get the ball rolling, shall we?”

“CHUCK!” Before he could turn, he was caught in Kath’s arms. She locked him in a tight grip as if he had just returned from years abroad, though he’d only been gone five minutes.

“Kath, we have to move and
fast.
We’ve got company, and it’s not pleasant.” He grabbed her hands and pried them loose, but gave them one more comforting squeeze. Enough for her to know that there would be time later.

The Tall Man was impressed with the group’s efficiency as everyone moved into position. At least he believed it was everyone. He could see outlines, hear whispers, hear people breathing and footsteps shuffling past, but he could not see the faces. He had to go with that; there was no time for a head count.

“Two, three, go, go, GO!” he yelled. He held the cabin side door open and released the extendable steps. “The back of the truck, straight to the back of the truck, and no flashlights.”

Should’ve made a head count before, when I had the chance. Damn!

By now, the ground below them trembled as thousands of foamers stampeded across the fields. Soon the red-eyed beasts would become aware of the truck, and if the group wasn’t on the move by then, they’d become foamer
sashimi
—a raw meal!

“Elliot!” Cindy kept her voice low and ran to the back of the truck the moment she got off the steps and onto the ground.

Elliot reached out and swooped her into his arms in a single motion. As he’d driven away in the truck he had wondered, as had she, if they would see each other again. Bravery can be such a stupid thing.

While the two teens quickly embraced, Elliot’s father came up behind them. “You’re a brave man, Elliot, but let’s get in the truck.” Tears streamed from his eyes.

The Tall Man kept an eye on the emotional moment. He wasn’t about to interrupt if he didn’t have to.

Mulhaven helped the women and the teens into the back of the truck. The escapees from the C-17 couldn’t see who they were, but some of the soldiers helped locate seats for them in the dark.

“Come on, you two,” James said again to his son and Cindy, saving the Tall Man from any unpleasantness.

Cindy was next into the truck while Elliot stood aside for his dad.

“Uh-uh, not after last time. You get in first.” James was firm with his son—he wasn’t about to let Elliot go off again.

With everyone and their bags loaded, it made for a tightly packed truck. But army trucks weren’t built for comfort.

“You jump in the back, Riley, okay? Mr. President, Tom, and Elliot, you ride with me—you too, Kath,” the Tall Man said. “Well, get a move on, don’t just stand there.” Beyond in the dark was a sea of red spots—the eyes of foamers—and the tide was rolling in. The foamers were searching for their next meal … always searching.

With the Tall Man, the president, and Tom in the cabin, the reunion with Holmes—the bastard who had once engaged the Tall Man to keep tabs on Baer and his activities—and Etheridge—the bastard who had tried to control everything—would have to wait a little longer. It wouldn’t aid their escape from the encroaching foamers if the Tall Man knew of their presence. When Elliot ground the gears of the truck, the foamers, some only fifty or sixty yards away, ran, stumbled, or crawled across the field. Their backs were broken from a collision with the wheels of the C-17, or the lower halves of their bodies were obliterated by sustained bursts of fully automatic fire.

Dead, destroyed, mangled.

But they kept coming.

“
W
hich way
, Aunt Kath?” The truck bounced across the field. Elliot had little choice in direction at the moment—anywhere the foamers weren’t was good—but after that he wasn’t sure.

“Go through the fence.” She pointed straight ahead. “Once I see what road we’re on, I’ll tell you.”

With all the activity, no one had bothered to check the time. Time had become a somewhat irrelevant consideration of late. There was one aspect left that carried some weight, however.

“The sun should rise soon,” the Tall Man called from the back seat.

The president and Tom dipped their heads to look out the window for evidence of the sunrise while Kath and Elliot turned and gave the Tall Man an inquisitive look.

“Foamers. They’re not active in the daylight—at least not as far as we’ve seen,” the Tall Man answered before she asked.

“You’re right. I’ve never seen or heard any.” Kath didn’t have the experience with foamers that the Twin Falls people had, but she concurred with that statement.

“We can verify that from drone and satellite pictures we had of the cities in Idaho,” Tom added.

“You had satellite pictures of Idaho? Any in Twin Falls?” Elliot asked the former chief of staff.

“Yes, we managed to get a few, err...”

“Elliot.” He reminded Tom of his name.

“Elliot. Right.” Tom continued, “You’ll excuse my memory at the moment, but yes, we did get some pictures of Twin Falls.”

“Were there … well, any—”

“Elliot, I’m sure you’ve seen much more of the disaster that has befallen our great country than I have. You and your friends have been in the thick of it, on the front line, as it were. Twin Falls was no different than anything you’ve seen.” Without having to spell it out, the president informed Elliot that there was not a living soul left. He was as sober as he was candid, but he was not despondent. Still the statesman.

“Turn left, Elliot,” Kath said. “This road will take us to Prince George, then to back to my house—and a damn stiff drink!”

“I might join you, if you don’t mind.” The president had been through much in his time, in politics, in business, and in the military. He had never been through an infestation of undead.

The Tall Man and Tom also expressed interest in knocking back a glass or two.

“Yeah, I might have a drink, too,” Elliot spoke up.

“You’re too young to drink, Elliot,” the Tall Man admonished.

Elliot shot a look back over his shoulder. His shocked expression couldn’t be seen in the dark of the truck cabin. “What the hell do you mean too—
holy shit?”
Elliot was startled as the truck bounced over rocks on the road.

The laughter that followed drowned him out.

The Tall Man was looking forward to a good drink and a laugh or two. He looked to the east and saw the sky begin to lighten. Soon the foamers would seek the sanctuary of the dark for the duration of the daylight hours. The Tall Man knew the next day would promise to be their longest.

“
W
e’ve got
about a quarter of a tank left.” Elliot apprised the others of the fuel situation.

“That’ll get us back to Kath’s,” the Tall Man replied.

As long as we don’t run into a wall of foamers,
Elliot thought. He had put a good distance between them and the airport. He reached down and put the headlights on full beam. Even if the foamers could see them, they wouldn’t be able to catch them.

“Straight through, Elliot, don’t stop for anything.”

“You got it, Chuck.” He pushed his foot down on the gas pedal now that he was on the open, paved road and could see. A moment later, he felt his arms tremble and his heart beat faster. It was like this on that night he’d been forced to flee Twin Falls. He was aware that Cindy and Mulhaven had noticed it back then, with the latter putting it down to fatigue. Elliot hadn’t said anything more about it. The last thing he wanted was for his friends to think he was a chickenshit who shook like a bowl of Jell-O whenever things got tough. He didn’t know it was a natural physical reaction after a surge of adrenaline. A field with thousands of foamers had a tendency to get the adrenaline flowing. By the time they arrived at his aunt’s house, the tremors had subsided and his heart had returned to whatever passed for normal these last few days.

Most of the eastern skyline was a lighter blue, and at horizon level the first hint of the sun’s rays was visible. The sun would bring relief from the foamers, but it would not make the day any easier.

Elliot pulled the truck as close to the cellar doors as he could. The Tall Man surveyed the area around the house in the morning light. He was pleased to see no damage had been done to the motor home or the Hummer, but especially the house. When he was certain there were no undesirables around—a term he used when he wanted to include all possible threats—he gave the all clear. The Tall Man went through the cellar first, then Kath. Elliot waited with Mulhaven, who was summoned from the truck. Tired of being in the dark, figuratively and literally, Cindy followed Mulhaven.

The doors were locked, which was a good sign.

“Hey, Riley!” the Tall Man greeted him.

Mulhaven grunted in response. The trip from the airport in the army truck had been far from luxurious.

“You two can come on in,” the Tall Man said when he saw that Cindy had joined Elliot. “Riley, you tell the folks in the truck to be patient for just a few minutes, okay?”

The Tall Man turned to Kath. “Let’s go up top. Keep the cellar secure, Elliot.”

“You got it, Chuck,” Elliot assured his friend, but wondered what he meant. “That was weird. Why would he—”

Cindy put her arms around Elliot’s neck and pulled him close. She kissed him warmly, passionately, and with a touch of desperation. She pulled back for a moment and whispered, “Silly, they went upstairs to be alone, and they left
us
here to be alone.”

She kissed him again, and this time Elliot put his arms around her waist. Even under that army jacket, it was still there.

“If you ever run off and do anything stupid like that again, Elliot Goodwin, I’ll kill you myself—never mind the damn foamers. Do you understand?” She planted her lips on his again. Both wished they had more time and privacy.

“
I
f it wasn’t
for you, we wouldn’t have gotten away.”

“Well, I think you owe some gratitude to your nephew, too,” the Tall Man told Kath.

“Yes, but you had the plan to get—”

“Shh.” The Tall Man pressed an index finger lightly against Kath’s lips. “I’m also the one that got us into that mess, remember?”

She didn’t answer but took his hand away from her mouth and inched closer.

“I was so scared out there,” she said.

“I won’t put you in any danger ever again, I promise.” He pulled her against him. He leaned down and forward as she pushed her head up. As their lips touched, the Tall Man felt relaxed for the first time in days. If only it could continue. If only.

“
W
hat are
you people doing down there?” Mulhaven called from outside the cellar door.

“Ah, err, just waiting on the all clear from Chuck,” Elliot answered.

He and Cindy had practically shot through the ceiling when their romantic embrace was interrupted.

“He doesn’t mind,” Elliot had whispered to Cindy. “He already knows.”

“It just scared me, Elliot, after… well, y’know.”

He did know. The situation with that police captain in Twin Falls the day of the outbreak still affected her, along with the horror that would go on forever. The end of the world as they knew it … and everywhere they went, overrun by undead abominations. Yes, he did know.

The Tall Man opened the door that led from the cellar to the house seconds later. His sharp senses had picked up on Mulhaven’s impatience, and he informed Elliot that everything was “good to go.” Elliot could tell Mulhaven to bring everyone in.

“But leave the luggage for later,” he said.

The Tall Man had calmed some since their escape from the airport, but it wasn’t to last.

The shit was about to hit the fan.

The president, Tom, their wives, and the president’s children came into the cellar, followed by Secret Service agents who still stuck to their charges like glue. They were followed by three or four soldiers before Holmes stepped in, unaware of the presence of the president, Transky, or the Tall Man.

“
W
e’ll get
your bags later. First let’s get you settled, then—” The Tall Man stopped when his attention was taken by the clomping boots of a camouflaged soldier down the oak stairs. The M4 carbine and sidearm he carried weren’t the Tall Man’s cause for concern, nor was the elderly man he forced in front of him. When the next man came in, the Tall Man was left speechless.

Richard Holmes.

“Well, well, well. They say it’s a small world, and I guess it just got smaller.” Tom Transky was the first to speak up after recognizing Richard Holmes.

Like the Tall Man, the president was at a loss for words. He had no idea the Tall Man also had a connection to this man he considered a traitor not only to his own country but to the human race. To see Milton Etheridge in anything but fine form was just as much a shock, but there was an element of pleasure, too. It was a delight to see Etheridge fall from such stratospheric heights. And now it appeared he had lost support from Holmes, judging by the way he was dragged in.

The Tall Man struggled to find words. Holmes eyeballed the man he knew, and had surreptitiously engaged, as Charles Black. Then he stared at the president. They were all here. Holmes was as stunned as they, but he was unaware that the Tall Man knew his identity.