The Beginning of the End (Book 1): Toward the Brink (17 page)

“Lies, you bastard, lies!” Baer had to scream to be heard above the noise of the screaming engines.

Half a mile.

“And when people started becoming sick he said it was ‘growing pains’ and immediately came up with a solution. Didn’t you wonder how he was able to produce such a formula so quickly … as if it was expected, perhaps planned for?”

Baer sat there, stunned. He had nothing to say.

A quarter of a mile.

“And then everything cleared up for a few months, didn’t it? But then a few days ago it all came back with a thud, a giant thud. Your product that would allow you to control the market and then the world was killing people, and in a matter of minutes they were rising before everyone’s shocked eyes …”

The two Su-30s were heard flying away as the Baer jet entered Indian air space.

“I know, I know all about it. Another drug was planted inside the hormone. It was done on purpose, Phillip, on purpose!” Langlie launched himself at Baer at the same time that four R-27T1 missiles were launched from the Indian Su-30s.

“I’ll kill you like I did Dennard, you bastard!” Langlie growled as the plane began to vibrate more.

“
You
killed Dennard?” Baer, now angered, fought with a renewed vigor against his younger and more experienced opponent. “Fuck you, fuck …”

The first of the heat-seeking missiles exploded underneath the right engine, destroying the wing. The plane went into a spin before the next three missiles exploded, breaking the Baer jet in two. Fuel burst into a massive fireball and the debris began to fall.

Among the debris was concentrated growth hormone. That which hadn’t been destroyed by fire would be carried by the Indian Ocean’s winds.

It could end up anywhere.

# # #

Fifteen minutes after the Baer jet plunged into the depths of the Indian Ocean, a phone rang in the Capitol Suite of the Four Seasons Hotel, Washington, D.C.

“Etheridge,” the sole occupant of the king-sized bed said into the secure cell phone.

“It has been done,” an Indian-accented voice on the other end said.

Etheridge ended the conversation and lay back down for some sleep. A smile crept upon the corners of his mouth; he would sleep comfortably now.

###

The Tall Man and Elliot took up positions near the windows that afforded them the best view of the street. Behind them on the counter sat a Rayovac camping lantern turned down low. Dark towels and blankets had been hung from the ceiling, covering the windows. No light escaped the store.

“Hope they can get some sleep,” Elliot said.

“Well, even resting up will help. We’ve all been through a lot.”

“Yeah, we have … except for Allan; he’s missed all the fun so far.”

The Tall Man grinned at Elliot, though he was sure his younger companion couldn’t see him. He was just a kid who should be out doing what kids his age do: digging some good music, taking Cindy out for a bite to eat, and going for a walk after taking in a show. Now, he was growing up too damn fast. He had to deal with death, killing, trying to survive a society collapse, and horrifying, sub-human creatures to boot. That he was still able to hold it together was a testament to his maturity.

The Tall Man could see in the dim glow only one side of Elliot’s face, but he could tell his eyes were closed. He didn’t bother waking him. The young man needed sleep after what he’d been through. The Tall Man had once spent three days on guard duty back in the old days in the Middle East; he’d worked a private contract with one country’s intelligence service then sold that intel to a rival country. Then, to clear his conscience, he provided the target of the espionage all of the details gratis.

Visions of a time when he was in Beirut entered his mind. He could see the sun setting just beyond the hills …

Moments later, the Tall Man joined Elliot in catching a few Zs.

Elliot was in a deep sleep and dreaming vividly. He was at home, the home he shared with his mom and dad. His real home. He was asking his father, “Where’s Mom? Where is she, Dad?” and all his father could do was stand there and say, “I’m sorry, Elliot. I’m sorry.” Then he heard a car pull into the driveway: a big, long, black car. A tall man dressed all in black got out of the driver’s side and opened a rear door. “Look, Dad, it’s Mom. She’s come home again!” Elliot said in the dream and raced to the front door, but it wouldn’t open. “Dad, help me open the door. It’s stuck!” he called out, but his dad just said, “I’m sorry, Elliot. I’m really sorry.”

Elliot paid him no mind and pulled the curtains back. He watched his mom move from the big black car and start walking up the driveway toward the house. Elliot observed a marked difference in his mother. She moved slowly, ever so slowly, and her skin was pale and dry. He could see particles of skin flaking off like dandruff. He watched, stunned, as his mother stopped when she got to the front steps, the tall man that had driven the car now standing a few feet behind.
Strange that he has no face
, Elliot thought. The man took one look at the rose bushes then heaved a stream of green gunk that immediately started foaming upon hitting the ground.

“Oh God, Mom’s sick, Dad. She’s sick. We have to help her. We have to
help
her!”

“I’m sorry, Elliot. I’m really sorry.”

“Well, fuck you!”

Elliot moved back to the front door and began frantically pulling on it, but it wouldn’t budge. With his last tug, he pulled the handle free of the door and tumbled to the carpet. In his dream, he looked at the handle and thought that he wasn’t that strong. As he lay sprawled on the living room floor, a knocking began at the front door, lightly at first but soon picking up in intensity. Though it sounded like far more than one person knocking, Elliot was sure it was his mother.

“It’s Mom. She wants to come in, Dad. She wants to …”

The knocking on the front door soon gave way to banging on the security grill outside the store.

“Uh, what the …” a tired Elliot mumbled. He was unaware of his surroundings until he laid eyes on the Tall Man. Then he understood the banging, the shaking, and the wild growls at the front of the store. “Chuck. Chuck, wake up. The fucking foamers are here!”

He crawled off of his camp stool over to the Tall Man and began shaking him vigorously.

“What the fuck is happening here?” It was Mulhaven; he’d been woken by the noise. “You fell asleep, both of ya!”

The Tall Man was up after a couple of shakes. Unlike Elliot, he knew exactly where he was.

“Never mind the rebuke, Mulhaven. Where’s the other two?”

“In the back room.”

“You stay with them. Shotguns, buddy. Shotguns, okay?” The Tall Man didn’t have to elaborate. Riley Mulhaven had been around long enough to understand. He also understood why Mr. Black had brought so many shotguns with him from Neddy’s gun store. He knew how to handle things. That was for damn sure.

The growling and clawing at the security grate outside the door increased. The foamers knew they were inside.

“Where’s the van, Mulhaven?” Elliot called out.

“It’s out back, a ten-yard sprint at most!”

Elliot and the Tall Man exchanged looks then took a few steps back.

“Now!” the Tall Man yelled.

A volley of shots from a Remington 1100 and an AR-15 sounded. They didn’t know if they hit anything or not, but that wasn’t the point. The calamity of the broken glass, animal moans, and the gunshots would focus the attention of the foamers on the front of the store. That was when they would make their escape.

“One more volley!” yelled the Tall Man.

Again, shots rang out. Then Elliot and the Tall Man fled from the store and darted for the back door, reloading on the way.

“Everyone ready?” Elliot added.

“Have we got all the supplies we need in the van?”

“I don’t know, Cindy, but we don’t have time to worry about that now. We have to go!” Elliot shouted.

Everyone looked behind them when the metal security grate across the front window was torn from its mounting.

“Elliot, you take point. When you get to the van, take cover at the front,” Mulhaven told Elliot, then said to Allan and Cindy, “You two wait right behind him, okay? Black, you take position by the back doors of the van!”

“Where are you going to be?” Cindy was still clutching the blanket that had covered her in her restless sleep. She held it like the stuffed fabric doll her grandmother made for her when she was young. Whenever scared or lonely, she would hold onto that doll. She was wishing she had it now.

“I’ll be right behind Black. Don’t worry; I’m not waiting around to introduce myself to these fuckers!” Elliot assured her.

“GO, GO, GO!” Mulhaven yelled. The sound of the glass cabinets being smashed inside the store hastened his decision.

Elliot sprinted to the front of the van. There was no moon tonight, and vision was limited. He took cover as he was told by the driver’s side front wheel, Allan and Cindy behind pressed up against the side of the van. The Tall Man brought up the rear and took up position by the doors of the van.

“Mulhaven? Mulhaven, where the fuck are you?” the Tall Man called.

In the dark, no one saw Mulhaven dash to one side.

“Mulhaven, you better get your ass back here real fast!” the Tall Man’s voice took on an edge of desperation as groaning sounds drifted from just inside the door of the surplus store.

A ball of flame erupted at the rear door of the store from a tossed Molotov cocktail. Mulhaven had been busy.

“JESUS FUCK!” the Tall Man shouted.

“What the fuck happened?” Elliot asked.

“Check inside the van. Check inside the van!” Mulhaven yelled, the flames of the explosion shedding an eerie yellow light on one side of him.

“All clear inside!” the Tall Man answered.

“Get in, get in, and get that fuckin’ thing started!”

Mulhaven was panting when he got to the back of the van. The Tall Man took the box of Molotovs from him before helping him into the van.

“Quick, shut the doors,” he said to the Tall Man before telling Elliot, “step on it!”

“Oh my God, look!” Cindy was pointing to the back of the store as Elliot spun the tires. “He’s burning. Oh my God!”

A foamer had come through the back door of the store and was engulfed in flames. It staggered and jumped around violently before being overtaken by the fire. A foamer it may have been, but from the distance of the van, it looked just like any man on fire.

“I broke the gas mains inside the store. It’ll blow any minute!” Mulhaven said.

“Oh shit!” Elliot said and slammed his foot down and tore out of the laneway behind the strip of stores.

“Go, go, go!” Mulhaven yelled, just as Goodwin’s Army/Navy Surplus store exploded.

A deafening boom reverberated through the van. Debris falling nearby could also be heard. With an explosion of that magnitude and the resultant flames, it wouldn’t be long before every foamer in the city would converge on the spot if their behavior remained consistent. It would also draw any looters left around, sensing an opportunity or perhaps just too drunk to know any better. Any National Guardsman left in the city would come investigating at once. The problem was there were a lot of
ifs
in that calculation.

“Man, the back end of the van lifted in the air. Did ya feel it?” Allan said.

It was the first time he’d spoken since they fled. He was unaware that his face was covered in sweat or that he was breathing so hard that everyone could hear. Allan had never faced such excitement as he had in the last few days, and definitely nothing like the last ten minutes.

“I didn’t want to leave in the dark, but after that, I think we should continue straight on to Shoshone,” Mulhaven said. “We’ll keep an eye out along the way for another vehicle.”

“Sounds good to me, Riley. I think some country air will do us all good,” Cindy said.

“At least we’ll have a better chance of seeing them coming,” the Tall Man added.

Everyone nodded in agreement except for Elliot. He was concentrating intensely on the road ahead. He’d never experienced driving in such darkness. It was very difficult without street lighting and no ambient light from other cars or the moon. Like a giant sponge, the night soaked up the power of the van’s headlights.

Elliot turned into Lincoln Street. From there, it was a straight drive to Shoshone. If they could get through.

“Jeezus …” Elliot brought the Chevy to an abrupt halt. “What should we do?”

Mulhaven squeezed into the passenger seat next to Elliot.

“We don’t have much choice, I’m afraid. You two keep loading for me,” the former police sergeant said to Allan and Cindy. “Chuck, you take the ’15 and clean up what you can from behind, but don’t waste ammo, and fer fuck’s sake, don’t fall out!”

Mulhaven then carefully eased a Remington 1100 tactical out the passenger window. It was a tight space, and he didn’t want to inadvertently blow Elliot’s head off. Mulhaven edged his head and shoulder out the window. The Tall Man opened one of the back doors of the van.

“Keep a strong hold of my belt, Allan. Don’t let me slip.”

“I won’t, Mr. Black. I promise I won’t!”

“Let her rip, Elliot. YAHOOOO!”

The hundreds of foamers wandering Lincoln Street also heard Mulhaven’s war cry, and those were just the ones they could see in the headlights.

Boom, chunk-chunk. Boom, chunk-chunk. Boom, chunk-chunk.
Mulhaven fired and pumped another round into the chamber. He didn’t waste ammo on any of these zombie bastards that were further than five yards.

Elliot picked up the speed now. He kept the van in a straight line. Fuck any zombie prick that got in his way. Cindy kept her head down, not wanting to see the carnage. Elliot hit one then two then a group of foamers, the wheels bouncing roughly over the bodies, slowing the van down.

“Hang on, Mr. Black. Hang on!” Allan screamed, reaching out with one arm and grabbing the Tall Man’s jacket.

“Chuck! Just call me fuckin’ Chuck!”

The van had slowed considerably right in the midst of a swarm of foamers. The Tall Man opened fire with the AR-15, precise, well-aimed double taps hitting their mark.