Alaskan Undead Apocalypse (Book 4): Resolution (25 page)

With Neil, Emma, and Jerry behind him, he
wandered into his home, using a flashlight to show the way, though
he didn’t need it. He was as familiar with this house as was a bear
with his den. He could be completely blind and make his way
competently through his home. Nothing was out of place. No one had
been there since they departed. Between the cold, the dark from the
shuttered windows, and the quiet, the house was more a cave than a
home. Even so, it was a familiar cave and one that had promise of
comfort.

William was relieved to find his house
secure and undisturbed. He trusted his friends and neighbors in
Shotgun Cove, but desperation sometimes had a way of changing folks
and not for the better. For the time being, it appeared as if his
trust had been deserved, and for that he was thankful.

The four of them all set about performing
different tasks. William built and stoked a fire in the stove while
Neil carried in more wood. Jerry and Emma walked back down to the
water’s edge to row back out to
Serenity
to
get the others.

When Jerry and Emma pulled up to the fishing
boat, they were met with some very eager and curious faces. Danny
asked about Neil while everyone else asked about the lodge.

Emma said warmly, “It’s nice.”

Danielle agreed. “It’s the nicest place I’ve
ever lived. For a shelter in the apocalypse, you couldn’t ask for a
better spot.”

Jess hesitated a bit. She couldn’t help but
think about Sydney. Syd was safe and away from all the chaos. Bob
promised to keep her safe and Jess trusted him to do just that. It
was for that reason that Jess was feeling more hope at that moment
than she had in quite some time.

Serenity
was Jess’
best chance to find Syd and Bob. Jess was comfortable at sea but
she wouldn’t consider herself a sea dog by any stretch of the
imagination. She didn’t think she was capable of setting out to sea
by herself, so for the moment the nice boat would remain merely an
option.

It
was
a nice boat
too. The one on which she, Bob, and Syd would fish was purely
functional, with no frills. It was a nice boat, but
Serenity
was a thing of beauty. Its brass railings and
hints of polished oak gave it a sense of class and comfort not
common to a lot of boats her size. The seats were all cushioned
beneath either leather or high-grade faux leather, she couldn’t
tell for sure, and the walls were solid. It was nice to be able to
watch the sour sea weather and not have to endure it.

As she thought, wondered, and remembered,
Jess was wracked with bittersweet emotion, full of fond memories
and painful regrets. With tearful eyes, Jess looked around at the
boat and thought that Syd would really enjoy going fishing aboard
the
Serenity
. Who wouldn’t?

With enough fuel or places to get it,
Serenity could take them anywhere. She could take Jess, Syd, Neil,
and all of the rest of them away from the hell the world had
become.

Fuel was the biggest challenge.
Serenity
wasn’t rigged or meant for sailing, so she
relied on her engine to drive her and it required gasoline.
Logistics
. That’s what Bob would always
say. She patted the soft chair in which she had been sitting and
walked over to the end of the boat. Jess was the last to climb down
into the waiting boat below.

The trip across the water and then up the
footpath to the lodge was cold and damp. They had been spoiled
sitting in the heated cabin aboard
Serenity
and now paid the price. Their cheeks felt chapped and stiff from
the crisp air and their lungs protested with each deep, chilling
breath.

Finally arriving at the lodge, they poured
themselves in through the front door and immediately crowded
themselves around the stove radiating heat and comfort, bathing
themselves in the warmth.

Neil was excited to see all of them and
savored the moment. William wanted to check on his friend Gordon
and get any recent news. The two men hefted their assault rifles
over their shoulders and bid quick farewells to the recent
arrivals. Neil assured them all that they would both be back in no
time at all.

Gordon answered his door without opening it.
Despite not seeing his eyes, William could sense that Gordon was
exhausted. His voice was deep and slow from lack of sleep.

“Gordon, it’s me, William. We’re back.”

From behind the door, an incredulous voice
fired back, “William? But you’re dead. How can I trust you?”

“Danielle and I made it out, Gordon. Did
anyone else make it back here?” William figured someone had to have
made it back for Gordon to know what had befallen the rest of the
group.

From overhead, the window on the second
floor which overlooked the front door opened and Betsy, Gordon’s
wife, appearing a decade or so younger than Gordon, leaned out. She
eyed William and then the other man with him. She asked bluntly,
“What do you want?”

William stepped back from the front of the
house and slung the AK 47 assault rifle over his shoulder, trying
to appear unthreatening. “Betsy, we just got back. We want to know
what’s goin’ on here. Has something happened?”

The front door opened then and Gordon
stepped onto his porch. He was willing to talk but he still held
his shotgun across his body. “Who’s this?”

William followed Gordon’s gaze to Neil.
“This man is named Neil and if he hadn’t come along, I’d still be
in Whittier and probably
would
be
dead.”

Gordon mulled that over for a few seconds
silently. He didn’t own a lodge for a reason. Gordon wasn’t one to
get close to strangers too quickly. He had come to Shotgun Cove for
the peace and the isolation. Having met and grown fond of William
was a bit of an accident and completely out of character for
Gordon.

His old blue eyes, milky but alert, looked
at each of the men and then stood aside to allow them into his
home.

Once inside, the three men sat at the dining
room table to talk. Neil and William set their rifles next to the
door as they entered, following Gordon’s lead. Gordon’s house had
hardwood floors, though his house was far less substantial than
William’s. The furnishings were comfortable looking but sparse.
There was no television in either the main room or a secondary room
off to the right. There were, however, shelves and shelves full of
books of all varieties, from nature photography, to historical
biographies, to classic novels. Most of the volumes were worn with
age and use. On a table next to a chair, an opened biography of
Theodore Roosevelt, its cover frayed and yellowed, lay on its face
awaiting its reader’s return.

Betsy brought them hot coffee and some
muffins she had baked. Neil sipped the coffee in quiet revelry and
nibbled on a muffin while William and Gordon spoke with one
another.

“What happened?” William asked.

Gordon breathed in deeply and then let out a
labored sigh. “A few hours after your group left for Whittier,
Nakissha came running back. She was screaming and half crazed they
told me. Not too far behind her were a few others, but they
weren’t… right. They were all stiff and awkward. It was obvious to
everyone that Nakissha was running away from those folks. They
didn’t move very fast, but those other folks kept up with her. They
followed her all the way back I guess.

“There were some people over at Norman’s,
like always. Nakissha ran right up onto the porch, screaming and
crying. She was bleeding too. She said that she had been bitten.
Can you believe that? One of those people
bit
her. What kind of people do that?”

Gordon paused to consider his own question
but couldn’t come up with an answer himself. “Nakissha was just
getting calmed down when those folks following her showed up. I
wasn’t there, but other folks who have told me about it since said
that they were like walking death or something. Someone even said
they looked like they were decaying, like corpses or something that
forgot to lie down and die. I don’t know how they acted, but I do
know what they looked like afterward.

“When Nakissha started to scream again,
Norman and his friends started shooting those other people,
but...”

“But the bullets didn’t kill them. Did
they?” Neil interjected.

Gordon nodded. After several seconds and a
couple of drinks from his own coffee mug, the older man said,
“William, their bodies were torn apart by bullets but they
didn’t
die
. I saw
them afterward. They had holes all over them. One of them had his
arm blown clean off by a shotgun. It wasn’t until someone shot one
of them in the head that they figured out how to put them down. By
then, two of Norman’s guests had gotten attacked.”

Concerned for his neighbors, William asked,
“Who?”

“Charlie Hackett and that young fella named
Jeremy that worked for Norman.”

“What do you mean by attacked?” Neil asked
with concern. “Were they bitten?”

Gordon shrugged. “I guess so but I don’t
know for sure. They were being treated when I showed up. I heard
the shooting and went over there to see what was happening. By the
time I got there, it was over.”

“Where are they now?” Neil asked quickly.
“The three people who got bit?”

“Probably still over at Norman’s.”

Neil got up from the table, grabbed his M4
and said, “We need to get over to Norman’s place before it’s too
late.”

Charlie looked at William and asked, “Too
late for what?”

There wasn’t time for explanations. William
stood as well. “He’s right. We need to get over there right
now.”

The urgency in both of the men’s voices
pushed Gordon to his feet. He didn’t know what was happening, but
he did recognize that William’s typical calm had been supplanted by
his concern.

“Gordon, you should stay here with Betsy,”
William said. “Bolt your door and keep an eye out from the upstairs
windows.”

“Don’t think you men are going to keep me
here,” Gordon objected. “I’m coming with you.”

Gordon was already on his feet and was
putting his baseball cap back on his head. He lifted his shotgun
and held the door open for the others. He said over his shoulder,
“I’ll be back in a few minutes, dear. We’re going over to Norman’s
for a bit.”

Betsy had heard all of the talk from the
kitchen and it showed in her eyes when she watched her husband
leave. “Just don’t be too late or your food will get cold. Will you
other gentlemen be joining us for dinner?”

Betsy’s attempt at finding some normalcy in
the situation went unanswered as the door was closed heavily behind
the men. She flew to the door and bolted it shut behind them. She
wasn’t easily scared or worried, but she couldn’t deny the rising
fear in her chest.

She retreated to a back room where her fused
glass worktable, tools, and kiln awaited her. She was in the
process of completing another custom order placed by a business in
Seward as if there was any possibility of delivering it. The piece,
one full of blues and a splash of black representing a whale’s
fluke, was beautiful and had kept her attention for quite some
time. She was thankful for the distraction and for having ample
supplies with which to work.

She would stay there until her husband
returned and hoped it wouldn’t be too late.

William led the way to Norman’s. They walked
with purpose. With the forest as thick as fur on either side, the
freshly paved road was an anomaly given its surroundings. The three
of them were thankful for the level ground, since the storm in
Whittier had also produced a white covering on much of Shotgun
Cove. The roads were not yet icy and produced sure footing as
opposed to the muddy and slick ground in the trees around them. The
shadows were longer and lingered later, helping the snow resist the
urge to melt.

The walk to Norman’s big lodge took them
about fifteen minutes of steady moving. When the big house came
into view, Gordon, William and Neill all stopped and looked around.
There was no one to be seen and nothing to be heard.

The enormous lodge, which dwarfed William’s
by several hundred square feet, looked locked and secure. Only
William appeared to be without concern by that fact. Under normal
circumstances, Norman’s lodge was bustling with activity and
teeming with visitors; the troubles in Whittier had barely changed
that reality.

The house in front of them would be
perfectly at home in a ghost town. The men slowly and cautiously
approached the lodge, watching and listening for any signs of
life.

Movement in an upstairs window caught Neil’s
eye. He stopped and watched for anything more. William slid over
next to him and followed Neil’s pointing finger to the window.
Neither man spoke for fear of disturbing the quiet and drawing
attention to themselves.

William saw nothing at first. Neil never
took his eyes from the window. When William looked again, he saw
someone move in front of the opening. It was Melinda, Norman’s
wife. William recognized her hair and the fleece top she was
wearing but she moved too quickly for him see any details.

William lifted his index finger as if to
say,
wait
. When he saw Melinda walk in
front of the window again, he called out, “Melindaaaa.”

Seconds later, Melinda, a tough, middle-aged
woman who laughed and smiled more than anyone William knew, burst
through the window headfirst. She tumbled in a flurry of trailing
glass and accompanying curtains.

When she hit the wood shingled awning
covering the front porch, she pitched and rolled violently, her
face drenched dripping blood from her shattered nose and the many
gashes caused by the breaking glass. William started to run to her
assistance but Neil grabbed him by the collar.