Vampire Apocalypse: Fallout (Book 3) (38 page)

April squeezed her hand tighter
and dropped her eyes for a moment. She signed with her free hand
and Sandra felt a second tear follow the first. April continued to
sign with one hand while squeezing Sandra’s hand with the other.
Sandra said nothing as she took in April’s heartfelt words with
each careful twist of her fingers. Her message was gentle and
supportive, and all the more powerful in its silence. The others in
the group remained stunned, unable to put into words their sorrow,
their loss and their devastation. Words could not express emotion
like a lover’s caress could. Words couldn’t describe the emptiness
she was feeling now; words were not capable of describing how her
world had suddenly ended with the brief flare on the horizon. But,
as she watched April’s small hand and she felt the tears come,
April’s message penetrated the grief and gave her a focus.

April’s hand finally came to
rest and reached up to wipe the tears from Sandra’s face. Sandra
looked over to the horizon, but the rain was too heavy to see
anything now. She thought of Peter Harris, but the pain was too
much for now and she forced her thoughts to other matters. Later,
maybe, she would take the positives from his memory. Later she
might be able to talk to the others and together they could mourn.
For tonight, though, she still had work to do and people to see
safely home.

That was what Peter would have
wanted.

Father Reilly walked out into
the rain with his head bent low against the searing wind.
Oh
Lord
, he thought,
what have we done to your planet?
The
cold in the air was unknown for this time of year and the
implications worried him. His thoughts, though, swiftly returned to
the reason for his nocturnal foray into the rain.

He had received a message from
Emma on the two-way radio a few minutes ago. She had not given many
details and had specifically asked him to come alone and not to let
the other Wolverines know where he was going. That, in itself, was
unusual as the group of young people were rarely apart now. They
had continued to trail their designated ‘marks,’ but, as yet, still
had not discovered anything that would lead them to their
traitor.

Reilly remembered Emma’s
embarrassed report as to her last tail on Patricia Lohan. He
smiled, despite the rain and cold, as he remembered her attempt to
assure him that Lohan was not the traitor during their last team
meeting. She had been particularly vague, though no less emphatic,
and he had pressed her until she had finally pulled him aside and
whispered her report out of earshot of the others. He had laughed
after she had finally managed to relay the information and had
assured her that he would keep the information to himself.

It had left him somewhat in a
quandary though. Other than Ian Phelps, Miss Lohan was one of his
main suspects and, with this current evidence, that left his
suspicions fairly limited. A lot of effort had been spent on
tailing Mr. Phelps in the last week with nothing to show for it.
Either he knew that he was being followed, he had no reason to
contact his vile masters, or he simply wasn’t guilty. But, if not
him - then who?

John Kelly was a boor but he
couldn’t imagine him with the balls to be a traitor. He would
suspect himself before he even considered Lucy Irving. Ben Thackery
was a bully. He was too hard on his children, and Reilly had wanted
to intervene many times on their behalf, but had forced himself to
remain out of personal affairs unless there was evidence of
violence or intimidation involved. And Thackery had not, so far,
gone that far.

He shouted and demeaned, but, if
he were to interfere, it might make things worse for the children.
So he had remained out of it for now. Thackery still had not found
his wife and, in fairness, raising three children on your own in
this new world was not easy. But there was a line and Thackery
operated far too close to it for Reilly’s liking. Was he a traitor,
though? Reilly didn’t think so.

Amanda Reitzig was too caring
with her patients, especially the children, for him to believe she
could possibly put them all in danger. She seemed far too delicate
to harbour such evil, though he knew that he could not afford to be
fooled by appearances. Penny Arkwright was another whom he just
could not see putting her own desires above those of the children
that she taught in the communities’ only school. How could such a
woman hide a dark side that threatened to kill every member of the
community? A sudden image of countless movies where serene old
women were revealed to be the evil character at the end flashed
through his mind, but he shook his head at their absurdity. And
what about Philip Scholes and Paul Williams? How much did he really
know about any of them?

He came at last to the area that
Emma had directed him to and looked around, peering intently into
the rain as he tried to find her. Everything was grey around him
and he shivered. This part of town was at the very limit of the
community’s designated safe area and he suddenly wondered what Emma
had been doing out so far from everything. A sudden chill seeped
through him and he felt very exposed as he stood in the centre of
the deserted street. Shop windows seemed to stare at him from
black, empty sockets. Shattered windows appeared like broken teeth
through the rain that seems to laugh at him with demented glee, and
the whole scene took on a surreal appearance. Doubts began to fill
his mind.
Why would Emma ask to meet him alone? And so far from
any prying eyes. It was getting dark as well. Surely there was
no…

“Father.” He looked around at
where he had heard the voice and chastised himself for his
thoughts. It took him some time to see her in the growing darkness.
He had been looking among the buildings and other areas where she
might have found some shelter, but he couldn’t see her. And then,
suddenly, she waved at him and he could see. She was kneeling over
by the radio tower, out in the rain.
Why would she do that?
She’ll catch her death
. She looked very small and alone beside
the huge radio mast, and he hurried over to her.

He was about to speak when she
suddenly launched herself at him and collapsed into his arms,
shuddering as her frail body was wracked by grief. He felt suddenly
very embarrassed by both her sudden emotion and by his earlier
suspicions.

“What is it, child?” he asked as
he tried to move her with him toward some shelter. But she pulled
away from him.

“Father, he’s dead,” she blurted
out. “How could anyone harm someone like him?” She looked at him
with such intensity that he was at a lost for words.

“Who is dead, child?”

She didn’t answer. Instead she
pulled him closer to the tower and stood looking down at a pile of
what he had thought to be merely rubble. At first Reilly didn’t
understand, and then cold fingers of fear suddenly gripped his
heart.
The Radio Mast! Oh my God!
Without the radio mast the
vampires would be able to find them by flying close to the city.
Who would…?

Emma dropped to her knees and
lifted something into her lap. It took him a moment to sort out the
outline of a head from the rubble surrounding the body.
Jack?
He felt his strength suddenly drain away and dropped
to his knees beside the sobbing girl as he took her in his
arms.

“How could anyone kill Jack,
Father?”

Reilly felt tears burn his own
eyes as he thought about the evil that must drive such a person for
them to kill a boy who was as innocent of life’s hardships as Jack
Pearson. Pearson must have seen someone destroying the radio mast
and had been caught. It was quite likely that the poor boy would
have approached the saboteur in total innocence, thinking that
maybe he was fixing the unit.
My God, what kind of monster lives
among us?
He held Emma in his arms as he looked around again at
the deserted buildings. Was the saboteur still here? Was he or she
enjoying seeing the result of their handiwork? For the first time
in his life Father Jonathon Reilly questioned his God about why he
should suffer such evil to live while the innocent paid such a high
price.

He would have to find Adam
Wilkins and see if anything could be salvaged, though he doubted
it. He looked at the torn mess of metal and exposed wires on the
ground around him and shuddered.

What were they going to do?

Epilogue

The helicopter lay on its side
deep in a gully about two miles from the main highway. The rain
pinged loudly on the metal shell and sounded like golf balls in the
enclosed space. Harris lifted his head and immediately placed it on
the cool metal floor as nausea threatened to sweep him away back
into unconsciousness. He had no idea how long he had been
unconscious, but, if there had been a fire, the rain had already
put it out.

How far had they travelled, he
suddenly wondered? Had the plant blown or had the core melted and
resulted in a steam explosion? Was he already dying of radiation or
could it travel this far in the rain? Questions flooded his mind
but he could not answer any of them. He tried to lift his head
again and the nausea returned, though not as badly as before. He
fought off the nausea long enough to look around.

He could see two other bodies in
the cab with him, though they were both still and unmoving. He
tried to call out but his voice cracked and the sound was drowned
out by the relentless downpour. He moved his hands and fingers
first, and then began the long, laborious task of trying to free
himself.

It took a while, but eventually
he managed to pull himself from the cab of the wrecked helicopter.
The rain was painful as he came out from the protection of the
metal, but he savoured the feel of each pinprick. He was alive,
though for how long had yet to be seen. It was only a matter of
time before the thralls came looking for their commander. Would
they stay away from the radiation or would they risk a search
party?

He looked up into the sky and
opened his mouth to sooth his parched throat. If it was poisoned he
was already dead anyway. He heard a noise from inside the
helicopter and he pulled himself reluctantly away from the rain as
he went back inside to see if any of the others had survived.

The pilot was dead, the
helicopter had crashed nose first and there hadn’t been a lot left
of the unfortunate thrall. Warkowski was alive, though his ribs
were either broken or badly bruised. He had lost his index finger
on his left hand and his earlobe had been torn off on the left side
of his face. Not bad, considering. It was only after Harris had
pulled the big man from the wreckage into the rain that he woke up
at all. Harris had thought that he had seen the big man in worse
condition but there could be internal injuries he couldn’t see.
Only time would tell. If they had the time, that was.

“What part of ‘stay put’ didn’t
you understand?” Harris grinned as he wiped the blood away form the
big man’s face.

Warkowski was groggy but he
managed a small smile. “You are far too impetuous to be allowed to
go off on your own.” He paused and then grunted as pain creased his
face. Harris could see the worry in the man’s eyes and he patted
his shoulder reassuringly.

“You have a few knocks; ribs
could be broken, but nothing major. You’ll have a nice scar to show
your son, though.”

“We will be brothers, then,”
Warkowski laughed and then grimaced and drifted off. Harris pulled
himself to his feet and wondered at Warkowski’s comments. He
brought his hand to his own face tentatively. He was sore but the
rain had washed away any blood so he had not thought himself
injured. His fingers were numb from the cold so it was hard to be
sure whether he had been cut or not. He shrugged, it would
keep.

The horizon was already
brightening when he started to pull Carter from the wreckage. He
had been tempted to put the thrall commander out of his misery. His
stomach had been torn badly by jagged metal and Harris could see
the dirty grey of the thrall’s intestines poking from the wound. He
would heal, of course. As long as they breathed they were able to
heal from almost anything. Not quite as quickly as the vampires,
and probably not as completely, but he would heal.
Would he
survive radiation poisoning?
Harris wondered as he pulled the
thrall from the wreckage with a little more force than was really
necessary. He might not be able to bring himself to callously kill
the thrall, but he was damned if he’d waste any more time than he
had to.

Although the rain had doused any
fires that might have resulted from the crash, it was still
possible that the fuel could ignite with the heat of the engine. He
would get the thrall to safety and then they would leave him.

He doubted that the thrall would
return the favour if their situation had been reversed, but he at
least still retained his humanity. Besides, Warkowski wasn’t up to
walking yet and he was far too heavy to carry. By the time he had
finished, Warkowski was beginning to struggle to his feet.

He wondered briefly what this
new development would mean for them and for the growing community.
He would have to talk to Ricks and see what they should do. If they
had to move, then that was something that they would all have to
work together for.
Would the committee believe him? Would they
let him help?
Questions, questions, questions. He looked up at
the sky as the light chased away the last vestiges of darkness.

The rain was beginning to soften
to a heavy drizzle rather than a torrent and he wondered if that
was a good thing. It would make travelling more dangerous as
visibility improved and would make it easier for search parties to
find them. It would also allow any radiation to travel further on
the winds. Or had it already been driven into the ground by the
rains from before? He shrugged. He felt the first prickling of
warmth from the sun as it announced itself across the land.