A New World 10 - Storm (36 page)

“I could go with you,” he says.

“This is something I have to do. I need you to help everyone get safely to a boat. And, Robert, don’t open up; either to me or the night runners. That will lead them to you. Stay closed.”

“Then do me a favor,” he states.

“Gladly, what is it?”

“Make it back.”

“You have my word on it. I’ll see you in the morning,” I say, holding him tighter.

“I love you, Dad.”

“I love you, too, son.”

Turning to Lynn, I wrap my arms around her.

“I don’t want you to go,” she says, her head buried in my shoulder.

“I know, I’ll be back in the morning,” I respond.

“You had better, or I’ll find you and kick your ass.”

“The thought of that alone will keep me going.”

“Jack, I love you so much. Please, come back to me,” Lynn says, her body shaking.

“I will, hon. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. And don’t worry about me, I’ve lived through worse.”

“When?”

“Well, you know, that one time. I love you with all of my heart. I’ll see you in the morning,” I whisper into her ear.

We release our hug, our arms interlocked for a moment, and then she steps away with a sniffle. My vision is blurred from tears.

“It’s been a pleasure, sir,” Gonzalez says, shaking my hand.

“That sounds like a goodbye,” I say.

She chuckles. “No, I still have plenty of harassment left in my bag. I can’t say goodbye until I empty it.”

I then shake hands with the Henderson and Denton. “Good luck, sir. See you in the morning.”

“Hooah,” I say. “Now, all of you, we’ve wasted enough time. Get the fuck out of here.”

I watch them trot down the road. Several times, they all turn to glance in my direction. I don’t have time to watch them vanish like in the movies. The night runners are closing. It’s time for me to leave.

“Okay, Jack, it’s time to play the game of your life,” I say under my breath.

With a final glance toward their retreating figures, I open up to the night runners and start jogging down the road to the west.

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The unscheduled landing, as his dad called it, was one of the most terrifying things Robert had ever experienced. He fully expected the aircraft to break up. After the heart-pounding landing and the following confusion, he was surprised to find himself alive. Equally as frightening was the subsequent run through woods and fields with the screams of night runners following. Like his dad, he didn’t need goggles to see in the dark. The pounding of boots on the ground as they crashed through the trees, the slap of branches against their clothing, the crunch of twigs snapping under their feet, and the sound of heavy breathing all added to his fear.

Now, jogging with the others down a country road, his heart is breaking as he glances behind. His dad is standing in the middle of the lane where they left him, gazing in their direction. He watches as his dad turns and begins trotting in the opposite direction, growing smaller as each step carries him farther away. Tears accompany the deep ache in his chest.

“I love you, Dad,” he whispers.

Lynn leads, always steering them south toward the bay serving Olympia. At first, there are only fields and tree lines flanking the streets, but they eventually make their way into neighborhoods. Pausing occasionally to catch their breath, they resume their fast pace. Lynn opts to forgo caution for speed, knowing that hundreds of thousands of night runners are only a short distance away. The shrieks from those following them fade after a time, giving evidence that his dad’s ploy may have worked.

To what end, though?

He doesn’t really notice their surroundings on their flight south. All of his thoughts are on his dad, and each step is further separating them. They make it safely to the docks. Lynn guides them to a boat with the keys on board. Heading out into the bay, Robert gazes at the passing shoreline and rising bluffs. Somewhere on the peninsula, his dad is running for his life. Robert is tempted to open up to see how his dad is doing, but remembers his dad’s last words. With only the sound of the boat’s motor and the waves slapping against the hull, Robert continues to stare at the wooded shore, his heart heavy with grief.

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Bri is more scared than she’s ever been; even more than when she fell into the basement and her encounter with the night runners. First there was Nic, and now her dad. Her vision blurs as tears form. She lifts her goggles periodically in order to wipe her eyes. She fights the urge to return to her dad. Several times, she actually turns around to run back. Each time, Gonzalez grabs Bri’s vest and steers her toward their line of flight.

“Don’t worry, warrior princess, your dad can take care of himself,” Gonzalez tells her, grabbing her vest once again.

Bri nods, but her heart is near to breaking.

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Lynn anchors the boat in the bay, near where she and Jack spent the night. With faint screams echoing across the water, her thoughts drift. Somewhere up on the bluffs in the distance, Jack is fleeing from the night runners. Like most of his crazy-ass plans, this one worked and the rest of them were able to reach safety. Shrieks escalate, drifting across the open water. She recalls her last sight of Jack, standing in the middle of the road, looking in their direction.

Please, please let him be okay
, she thinks, looking up at the same stars they gazed at the other evening.

She starts crying, tears rolling down her cheeks. Craig comes to sit next to her and puts his arm around her shoulder. “I’m sorry, sis.”

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I pause behind a log at the edge of a tree line, overlooking a small, open field. Across it, emerging from a line of trees on the other side, night runners cautiously enter the open area. Before, when I’ve waited for them in similar positions, they ran unconcerned along my scent trail. The past few hours have taught them to be wary. Behind the few coming into view, I see ghostly outlines of others further inside the thicket. With my sight centered on the nearest one, I wait until they are closer and more clearly in the open.

I squeeze the trigger, sending out a single round with a muffled pop. A night runner drops into the tall grass. Moving my barrel, sighting in on another one, I fire. I’ve been relegated to firing on semi to conserve rounds. Another night runner falls out of sight. Hitting five more in quick succession, I rise and race deeper into the woods. They’ll move cautiously, giving me time to get some distance on them. If I didn’t stop periodically to enforce their caution, they would have caught up with me long ago.

Deep in the thicket, I open up again, sensing the entire pack slowly following. With all of them on my trail, Lynn and the kids have a chance. They should have arrived at the marina by now, and be safely on a boat. The relief I feel with that thought is beyond measure. By opening up, I give the night runners a position to key on. I close down again and change directions.

Hours later, tired and sore, I hold up. Using every trick in my book, I’ve managed to stay one step ahead of the night runners, but that appears to have ended. I stand at the edge of a bluff that looks out over Puget Sound. There is no farther west to go. A sheer cliff plummets straight down to a narrow, gravelly beach. A soft wind blows past my cheeks as I gaze out over the open water, the moon’s rays glistening on the surface. Behind me, across a small, grassy field, shrieks echo through the trees. They are closing.

I’ve occasionally engaged them, stopping at times to slow them down or when I needed to catch my breath, only to turn and run again. They pause in their chase each time, allowing me to put some distance between us. This is the game we’ve been playing, and until now, it’s worked. However, I ran out of ammo at my last stop. I’m down to my knives, which won’t do me much good.

Looking to the sky, the moon is settling toward the horizon and stars twinkle against a velvet background. Dawn can’t be that far away, but as it stands now, it might as well never show. It’s been a good run, but it has reached its conclusion. I gave it my best shot and almost made it. At least Lynn and the kids are safe. That’s all that matters.

The screams grow louder. With a sigh, I drop my trusty M-4 to the ground, taking out two of my knives. I won’t last long, but at least they’ll know they tangled with something. Tired and breathing hard, I turn from the cliff’s edge and step into the middle of the field. Ghostly faces appear at the edge of the trees, their mouths open, shrieking. They pause, possibly expecting more rounds to be sent in their direction. Unfortunately, I don’t have any to deliver.

I crouch, my grip loose but firm on my knives. From the edge of the trees, night runners emerge into the open field. The volume of their shrieks rises and becomes almost deafening. Then, they halt. The screams fade and they part, forming a path down which a single night runner advances cautiously.

My heart is pounding and my adrenaline is at an all-time high. The cold of the evening is forgotten as I stare at the solitary night runner. The ones behind him have gone silent, leaving only the rustle of the wind blowing gently through the grass. I’m confused at their odd behavior. I’ve never witnessed where a single one emerged like this, but I’ll take what I can get. Each moment that passes is one in which I can catch my breath.

I think about opening up to see what their images say, but I don’t want to lose focus. By all appearances, the night runner slowly advancing wants a challenge. That’s fine with me, but I harbor no doubts as to how this will eventually end. Even if I survive the encounter, there’s no way that I’ll live through the hundreds that will follow. Knowing that Lynn and the kids are safe, I feel relaxed. I don’t care that this might – make that will – be my last night on earth, just as long as they’re okay. I just hope that it’s quick and doesn’t involve a lot of pain. Because, well, pain sucks.

All of the tension I’ve been carrying is gone. There’s only me and the night runner. I track him as he begins circling. He’s stronger, more agile, and faster than I am, so it will take everything I have to survive even the next few minutes. I really don’t even know what I am bringing to the table. Brains? Training? Looks? Yeah, right.

I open up and send, “I will kill you.”

His eyes widen for a split second, then narrow. He doesn’t respond. The other night runners do, sending a chilling escalation of shrieks across the small field. The one I’m facing sends for silence and, again, a hush descends across the meadow.

With a howl, the night runner launches himself across the field. One moment he’s slowly circling, and the next he’s in an all-out sprint. I’m taken aback by how quickly he went from zero to a hundred. He charges and leaps into the air. Stepping to one side, I sweep an arm to guide him away, bringing my knife up to plunge into his side. He is able to twist his body in mid-air and my knife only finds empty space. He flies past, hits the ground on the back of his shoulder, and rolls. Continuing, he gains his feet and faces me before I can make another move.

Fuck, this isn’t going to be easy
, I think, watching for his next move.
No mistakes with this one.

Without a sound, he charges straight in, forgoing his opening acrobatic feat. He’s on me almost before I see him move. I’m going to have to take note of his speed. I duck under his outreached arms, rising as they pass over me. I thrust upward, seeking to place my knife just under his rib cage. He moves to the side, the edge of my blade pushing through his clothing, only to scrape his side. Before I know it, he’s behind me. He was in front of me one second, and then gone the next.

I feel an eruption of pain as he sinks his teeth deep into the meaty part where my neck meets my shoulder. His hand reaches around to claw at my face. I hear low growling in my ear and get a whiff of his rank aroma. I twist, thrusting toward his eye with my opposite hand while simultaneously stabbing to the rear with my other one. He releases and jumps backward to avoid the thrust of my blades. I feel satisfaction as my rearward stab connects. Spinning, I see blood running from a slice along his arm and a growing stain on his clothing where I caught his side. Streams of my own blood run down my chest and back.

With a glance at his arm, he growls and comes at me again, giving me no pause. I step to the side of his charge, dropping low again, seeking his torso. He catches my left arm just before the tip of my blade penetrates. Sinking his teeth into my arm, my knife drops as I stab toward his rib cage with my right, managing only another glancing blow as he moves aside.

A return swipe across his torso causes him to release my arm. Moving like lightning, the night runner is quickly upon me before I regain my feet. I barely have time to see his body closing. I rise swiftly upward as he grapples with me, launching of us both backward. Twisting in mid-air, we land with me on top. I can’t get my knife in anywhere. It’s like wrestling with a wet fish that moves like a snake. He slaps my arm away faster than I can bring it to bear. With my other hand, I fight to keep him from clawing me.