Judgment Day (Book 3): Retribution Read online

  Renda had revealed her cancer resurgence to Mace, who after the usual bout of anger and fear, had taken it in stride, claiming that she was too tough to die. Together, they tried to wring as much from each day as possible. She knew she would not live long enough to see Tia grow up, but each day with her and with Mace was a blessing she had never thought to know.

  “Wave to daddy, Tia,” she said as Mace looked toward them. She lifted the three-months-old’s arm and waved it. Mace smiled and returned the wave.

  Later, they would all meet in the second metal building, larger than Erin’s lab, which had become a community center and dining hall. Six couples would be married, wanting a new start on life, including Erin and Elliot. A warm feeling of satisfaction swept over Renda. In spite of all that had happened, in spite of her cancer, she would not have wanted it any other way. She had sought and found her own redemption and now her retribution would be in refusing to give up, to allow the world to snuff her out. Her daughter would grow up in a new world. Reports had come in that most of the zombies had disappeared, gone into remote areas and now avoided man. At some point, conflict would arise anew, but in the meantime, the world was a big place and both species had room to develop.

  Mankind had almost been wiped from the face of the Earth, either through an act of nature or by the folly of man. He had survived through tenacity and the ability to cooperate when necessary, just as early man had done. If the lessons learned took, the future might become something in which both species could coexist.

  “Let’s go see if daddy’s almost finished,” she said.

  The sun felt warm on her after the long, cold winter months. She now walked with a slight limp but refused to use a cane, at least for now. It was difficult to exercise with the guan dao, but she still occasionally found time to work off her frustrations. A roadrunner broke from the cover of a brittlebush plant and raced across the road in front of her. Tia giggled.

  “Look, Tia. New life.”

  The world was not perfect. It never had been, at least not since Adam and Eve had been chased out of Eden. They now had the chance to create a refuge in their own small corner of Eden.

  Tia giggled again and leaned forward as if she wanted to chase the roadrunner. To Renda, it was the happiest sound in the world.

  Red Rock Park, Colorado

  Jeb Stone stood atop a hill overlooking the city of Denver. With his hair grown long and a full beard, he barely resembled the psychiatrist he had once been. He was now a man of the wilderness, a wanderer. It was not yet night, but a few lights shone in windows from candles or lanterns. There was no electricity in the city of only a few hundred. Since the Children of God had abandoned the cities for more remote areas, people had slowly trickled back into them. It would be many years, perhaps many lifetimes, before they once again became metropolises.

  Jeb turned at the sound of a tree branch moving. Behind him stood an Alpha male that he had named Blondie because of his long, white hair. Blondie grunted a string of guttural sounds at him, of which Jeb understood only two – ‘bad’ and ‘leave.’ Like most of the Children, he did not like cities or the smell of man. The extended family that Jeb travelled with was moving into the high country for the summer and had chaffed at his side trip to view Denver.

  Jeb nodded and said, “We go now.”

  He wondered if Brother Malachi had ever imagined that he would someday walk with zombies. It had certainly never crossed his mind until Blondie’s family had adopted him. Jeb walked into the forest, forever turning his back on Denver and the works of man. Whatever future he had left he would spend with the Children, easing them forward in their rapid evolution. What place they would hold in the future was beyond his ability to predict, but he suspected they would not surrender to mankind easily. He had once doubted mankind’s ability to coexist with another species. Man’s record had not been one to inspire confidence. Somewhere, a happy medium existed where the two species could, if not cooperate, at least tolerate the other’s existence.

  It was hard to imagine that just a little over a year had passed since the outbreak of the zombie virus. It seemed more like a lifetime. Around him, the Children of God snorted their pleasure at leaving Denver’s environs. He understood their eagerness. A whole world awaited them and a new future for him. He could forget his past, his failures, his nightmares, and face whatever challenges each new day brought.

  The shadows of the forest deepened as night fell, but the Children did not need the sun to guide them. Their footsteps were measured and certain as they marched into their future, Jeb beside them.

  The End

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  Acknowledgments

  I would like to thank the residents of Tucson and Phoenix for allowing me to maim, mutilate and kill for the sake of literary thrills. I would especially like to apologize to the city of Phoenix for destroying it. PETA should know that no animals were harmed during the writing of this novel and any resemblance to real coyotes was purely coincidental. I also thank Severed Press for their confidence in me.

  Dedication

  As always, I wish to dedicate this book to my lovely, loving wife, Kim, for her help in editing and proofreading my novels, and for putting up with me. I also wish to thank my cats, Shoes and Elsie, for walking across my keyboard and inventing new words, some of which I used.

  The Feast

  November 25, 2008

  1013 hours

  Steve Brason crept slowly through the forest, careful not to make any unnecessary noise. His older cousin, Collin Jacobs, moved behind him, scanning the perimeter. The slightest snapped twig or broken piece of bark beneath their boots, and it could be all over. The last thing they wanted to do was to give away their position.

  The morning sunlight struggled to breach the thick, leaf-filled branches of the blue spruce pines and northern catalpa trees. With every passing minute, the light layer of fog surrounding them slowly burned away.

  Suddenly, Steve and Collin halted, hearing the not-too-distant sound of a cracked branch.

  “Where did that come from?” Collin whispered.

  Steve closed his eyes and diverted all his attention to his ears. He listened carefully as another snapping sound came seconds after the first. He narrowed down the direction and pointed northeast. “Over there,” he said, finally exhaling a long overdue breath.

  Collin unscrewed the top of his metal thermos. “What do you want to do, Steve? Go for it, or wait for it to come to us?”

  “Let’s go check it out. Last thing we want to do is lose it. Then we would for sure be screwed”

  Slowly, the two men navigated around fallen trees and the densely-packed, decomposing forest. They stuck as closely as possible to the trees, since the protruding roots offered the most stable ground.

  “Watch your step here,” Steve whispered as he pulled himself up and over a fallen tree. One side of the log had been taken over by a large section of slick, green moss.

  Collin nodded and followed Steve’s exact footsteps. As the two cousins pressed on, they kept a watchful eye on their footing, careful not to slip on the dew-covered earth. With each step closer, the faint noises grew stronger and greater in number.

  Steve pointed to a hill twenty feet away; the location offered the best vantage point. As quietly as they could, Steve and Collin reached the top and lay stomach down. Their camouflage gear mimicked the forest, making them almost invisible. Through their rifles’ scopes, the two cousins scouted the area. Directly across and beneath them sat a partially dried riverbed. A combination of small boulders and medium sized stones filled in the banks. Rain from the previous evening filled the river with ankle-high water moving no faster than five miles per hour.

  Steve spotted it as it lingered near the water on the opposite side. “Eleven o’clock,” he said, keeping his eye pressed against the scope.

  “Damn, that’s massive. You think there’s more?” Collin asked, staring d
own at the beast.

  Steve rotated a knob on the right side of his lens. “I don’t know. It’s hard to say. Normally they stick together, but we’ve never gone out this far, so who knows.”

  “You better make sure you hit it, ’cause if you don’t—”

  “Yeah, I know. It’s game over,” Steve said, cutting him off. “Don’t want to warn the others, wherever they are.”

  “Whenever you’re ready, Steve-O.”

  Steve lined up his shot. He couldn’t help but feel sorry. It wasn’t the beast’s fault; it was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Deep inside, something tugged at Steve; he felt it at a cellular level, at a moral level. He never got used to taking lives. He tolerated it, but never got used to it.

  “It’s now or never,” Collin declared as the beast began to move.

  Steve blinked and relined the shot, then licked his lips and breathed in deeply. As he exhaled, the warm breath met the cold forest air and turned into steam, which surrounded his face and scope. Unlike Collin, Steve did not prefer to wear a face cover. The black material Collin wore covered up his mouth and neck. It helped keep the cold air off the skin and to muffle sounds, but Steve felt it was too constricting and unnecessary.

  Just as Collin began to further press the matter, Steve made his decision. His right index finger slowly squeezed the trigger. The gunshot rang through the forest, and every living thing went silent. The scratching sounds of squirrels stopped. Birds took off flapping their wings as fast as they could. Every other animal still in the area fled into hiding.

  The .30-06 bullet tore through a tree trunk a half inch above the beast’s head.

  A miss.

  The massive six-point elk froze for a split second, staring up the hill directly at Steve and Collin. It seemed to know it should have died. Emerging from behind a bush a few yards away, a female and two bucks joined the massive beast, and the family scurried away, following the river downstream.

  The look that his cousin gave him told Steve that Collin knew he had missed on purpose. Before either could say a word, a strong voice called through on their radio earpieces. “What’s the SitRep?”

  Steve clicked the transmit button on his mic. “Nothing, Dad. Had one in sight, but it just got away.”

  “Got away, huh?” the strong voice said after a long pause. “Rendezvous at camp in ten. I’m calling it a day.”

  From behind, Billy Wilde and Alex Forest, two of their other cousins, trekked toward them.

  “We’re over here,” Collin said, standing up and signaling their position. He looked back down at Steve. “Well, you heard your dad. Time to head back.”

  Steve lay still on his stomach, wrapping his mind around his decision. He knew he had the shot, too, but couldn’t do it, wouldn’t do it. Picking up the expelled casing, he rose to his feet. Be with your family, he thought as he brushed the dirt from his nylon clothing.

  “How’d you miss it, Steve?” Alex asked, inconspicuously taking a sip from a flask as if someone was going to report him for drinking in public.

  “Yeah, man, you never miss. And you always win. What gives?” Billy said, taking back his flask.

  “I don’t know, guys, guess not this time. Plus it’s about time for someone else to take over, I think,” Steve joked.

  1043 hours

  Back at camp, a massive RV was parked next to a kindling fire. The RV’s all-terrain tires allowed them to take a “secret” path away from Greene County National Forest’s public parking zone. Over the years, the free parking near the lodge had grown too crowded, and the adjacent lands had been over-hunted by amateurs and professionals alike. This family preferred prime, untouched hunting grounds. Inside the RV, Steve’s father, Tom, folded up a letter and put it back in his bag. “Oh, Steve,” he sighed. Shaking a disappointed look from his face, he walked out from the side door to greet his son and nephews.

  “Good, you’re back and just in time!” he exclaimed, raising a bottle of whiskey. “Unpack your things. It’s time to crown the king.”

  Every year on Thanksgiving Day, Tom took his two sons and his older male nephews on a weekend hunting expedition. Each morning, shortly after sunrise, they divided into groups of two and scoured the forest for elk and deer.

  On the last day of the trip, the person with the trip’s biggest kill was crowned King of the Hunt. Since the first hunt eight years ago, Steve had been crowned a dominating five times, with Collin winning twice, and Alex once. One year, Tom had called a tie between Alex and Steve, but being the modest person he was, Steve had let Alex have the title. Billy and Mike had yet to receive the honor.

  The rules were simple. Everyone was allowed one kill, as per state law, and Tom played judge. The winner and newly-crowned king would receive a bottle of expensive whiskey from Tom, a sum of cash the cousins pooled together, and a year’s worth of bragging rights. To outsiders, the game seemed dull, but to those involved, it was a deeply rooted, respectful tradition. Upon their return on Sunday, Tom would have the entire extended family over for a massive, albeit belated, Thanksgiving feast to celebrate the king.

  Tom was raised a hunter and loved the outdoors. Mike, his oldest son, couldn’t have cared less. He went mainly because Tom asked. Billy and Alex didn’t care much about hunting either. If anyone other than Tom had asked them, they would have said that they were just out to shoot guns and drink. Of course, if Tom asked, they looked forward to it every year. Collin, on the other hand, was very much like his Uncle Tom. He genuinely liked getting away and being outdoors. Steve also loved it, but mainly because it gave him a chance to hang out with his cousins, something that became less and less common as they got older.

  Even now, the cousins were more like brothers. They grew up together, played sports together, got into trouble together, and went to school together, at least early on. They truly enjoyed the yearly bonding experience and the touch of competition added to the excitement.

  Now that they were back at camp, Collin, Billy, Steve, and Alex had changed out of their dirty gear and into more comfortable clothes before gathering back outside. Mike, Steve’s older brother, knelt next to the fire trying to get the coals started again with a combination of crumpled-up newspaper and dried pieces of bark.

  “What’s up, guys? Heard someone missed the shot,” Mike said, pausing from blowing gently at the embers.

  Steve reached into the ice chest and pulled out a bottle of water. “Yup, just barely missed it,” he responded, covering up his lie with a drink of water.

  “So the golden boy’s streak comes to an end this year,” Mike said jokingly.

  “Maybe, one of these years, you should try winning,” Steve quipped.

  “Not really my thing,” Mike said, tossing in a final log. Suddenly, he pulled his hand back and sucked on his index finger. “Damn! Fucking splinter!”

  “Karma’s a bitch, ain’t it, cuz,” Alex said, smiling at his cousin’s agony.

  Plastic beach chairs were circled around the fire pit, and the family all sat and relaxed as the bark snapped and popped. Tom poured six glasses of scotch and everyone followed Tom’s lead as he raised his glass for a toast.

  “I just want to say that, as always, I have a great time out here with all of you. I hope that after all these years, you too, have as much fun as I do.”

  “Thank you, Uncle Tom,” Alex said. “I’m not going to lie; you really outdid yourself this year.”

  “Yeah, Uncle T. These new radios, our outfits, all these others goodies—you’re awesome,” Billy added, raising his glass toward Tom.

  “You are very welcome, boys. It’s my pleasure to do it. What can I say? I like the best. On a more formal note, it looks like there’s been a regime change.” He paused and shot a quick but unmistakable look of disappointment at Steve. “I’m proud to announce Collin as this year’s king. Give it up to him, boys!”

  While everyone cheered and drank to Collin’s success, Tom fired up a portable barbecue and threw on a 12-pack of Italian sausag
es. As the appetizers cooked, the cousins messed around, showcasing their adolescent side. Billy and Alex filled a wine bottle with water, re-corked it and placed it in the fire. Within minutes the pressure from the boiling water shot the cork out fifty feet in the air. Mike watched and laughed, leaning back in a chair pounding a beer.

  Collin stood off to the side, laughing at the sight. He was the one who had shown them how to do that more than fifteen years ago. After his laughter had died down, he turned and faced Steve. “So are you going to tell me why you missed?”

  Steve stood silent, watching a pair of squirrels chase after each other. He finished his beer and tossed it over to the portable trash bin. “I’m just tired of always being the apple of his eye, you know? His perfect child. And he just doesn’t get it.”

  “I wish I could tell you that I understand, but I won’t, ’cause I don’t. My dad’s an asshole and doesn’t give two shits about me. What doesn’t your dad get?”

  “That I’m not his perfect little soldier and that I’m going to do what makes me happy. I’m not going to join, Collin. I just don’t know how to tell him.”

  Collin and Steve stood there for quiet minute, gazing into the forest. “You know he knows you missed, right? I’m pretty sure everyone knows,” Collin said, chuckling. “I mean, come on, you never miss.” His last words were interrupted by Tom’s shouts that food was ready. Collin swung his arm around Steve. “Don’t sweat it, man. Take it in stride and enjoy the present.”