THE KILLER ANGEL: Book Two "Legend" (THE KILLER ANGEL TRILOGY 2) (5 page)

Doctor Cott continued to ramble on in her clipped, unemotional voice, in spite of my disinterest. I ultimately came to believe that she did not know that her evil assistants nearly killed Brick, Ben and me at the Hedley gate. But, those guys were murderers and she must have been aware of it. Only God could know how she would survive without their help, but I could not have cared less.

I ordered the woman inside her lab, then secured
the door. I had to put some closure on this matter, so I placed Ben on lookout, knowing that he would not fail me in spite of his infirmity. There was an abundance of loose items everywhere that suited my purpose. I scanned the yard for any danger, then, seeing none, dropped a ladder into the pit and followed it down.

I carefully wrapped the girl in canvas, and before closing the top, I looked upon her peaceful face. Rachel Chase in a happier time.
Oh dear God
, I thought,
even up close this sleeping beauty looks so much like me...and my twin, Scottie
.

Gritting my teeth, I shook off the emotion welling up within. I took off my left glove and placed it in her hands, folded on her chest, then closed the canvas. It was all that I could do.

Here were four bodies, one of whom touched my heart, but all truly deserving of respect (the fifth body deserving nothing but rot). I had long ago lost any need to treat runners with the decency reserved for the normal dead, but this time, somehow, it felt different. I looked at their horrifying faces; the bulging eyes, the ghastly mouths and broken teeth, the black vomit...hardly human.

I exited the pit and set off. I had no way to fill the deep hollow that now served as a tomb and I needed to move on. I never wanted to see that miserable place again, and I was only too happy to leave Dr. Cott to her own machinations, whatever they might be.

Chapter Three

“Ben”

I
T WAS slow going with Ben. Normally so powerful and active, his injuries were holding him down. The doctor had done good work to heal him, that was evident, but he needed time to recover and it was getting late and cooling off fast. I had to find sanctuary.

When we were about a mile from the winery, there was a flash of light and a loud explosion from behind us. I looked back and could see a plume of gray smoke rising above the tree tops in the same general direction as the sound. Then several more explosions. Evidently, Dr. Cott was having trouble, probably with Seth, which in no way concerned me. They deserved each other.

Of course, I was aware of what almost always followed such an event, so Ben and I exited the two-lane blacktop and clambered up a small, steep hill through which the road had been cut. We sat back and quietly waited in cover. It did not take long. Within minutes, a few birds and other small animals came racing past, clearly in panic.

Then, as anticipated, frothing runners sprinted by, charging madly in the direction of the smoke in groups of two or three, ugly as ever. Ben cowered behind me, his tail under his hind legs. It made me angry to see my fearless companion so cowed. I could only wonder what misery and fright he had endured.

The exposure of this position was unappealing to me, but it was reasonably defensible, at least from the front, and visibility was very good. It was getting too late to reach my target layover, a country store that I noticed while on my trek to retrieve Ben, so this would have to do.

After a quick reconnaissance of our surroundings, I moved back into the treeline and prepared the most comfortable position that I could manage for the two of us.

I rolled out a small mat and my lightweight sleeping bag, then laid out snacks and water for Ben and myself. After the meal and a gentle brushing, he perked up, and seemed to be slowly regaining his powerful canine personality.

Following our Spartan repast, I cleaned, oiled and carefully organized my weapons and gear, then lay back, with my weakened, yet still powerful friend warming my side.

Ben was not yet his old self, neither physically nor mentally. He whimpered a bit as he nuzzled my arm. I knew that his injuries were not severe, and that he would be fit again, but I wondered if he would entirely regain his former mental brilliance and confidence.
No
matter
, I thought,
I am here with you for the long haul, my little man
.

I tried to think of anything other than the events of that day, and of the mysterious, beautiful, young stranger who had taken on my likeness...and perished as a result. I felt responsible, and somehow guilty.

I should have been faster! No! Think of something else!

I reminisced back to my first encounter with my faithful companion over a year and a half ago, a pleasant and uplifting chain of thought. It was Ben who found me. It was Ben who adopted me. He gave me friendship, love and loyalty, and was largely responsible for arousing the courage that I needed to ultimately leave the confines of that massive Burbank store, wherein I had been timidly living out each boring day.

He had saved my life so many times
...

After a couple of months of hard, dangerous travel with a variety of survivors, I had made my way from Phoenix to the little Burbank apartment in which Kip and I loved and laughed. That journey is a saga all by itself, no embellishment required, filled with multiple near-fatal moments, terrible disasters and unexpected successes. Death, horror, destruction and the loss of far too many remarkable men and women. I became much of who I am today through those hard miles.

That apartment was not suitable for life in the apocalypse, but I lingered there for sentimental reasons.

The tipping point came one day when I went to check on my only neighbors, a wonderful couple who
had found each other shortly after the world ended.

Upon entering their home, I found them both dead. She was lying in bed, a deep gash in her skull, a bloody ax on the floor. It was evident that she had succumbed to the runner metamorphosis. He was in the next room, hanging from a wooden beam. Suicide. I cut him down and put him in bed with his love, then covered them both with a blanket.

It was time to move
...

Security needs and robust mental health required a superior location, so I immediately packed a few things, then moved into a more advantageous and survivable base - a giant, concrete-walled store loaded with housewares, food, tools, and clothes. Perfect for the long term, with no memories for me - good or bad. I cleared the place of hazards, corrected weak points in the structure, and disposed of rotted foods. That building afforded relatively enjoyable comfort for awhile, and enabled me to place creative thought into real-world action. My mind was filled with ideas, and that place contained a bounty of material with which to bring life to those ideas.

I had plenty of time on my hands, so I built a pretty fancy gym for myself, arching pieces through the canyons of high storage shelves, all the way to the ceiling. It was a unique structure that combined training for speed, strength, heights, ropes and agility. Eventually, I added moving targets with which I could continue to hone my weapons skills.

Travel was ever in my thoughts, so I also labored
extensively on the problem, assembling the necessary gear and weapons, customizing attire for my special purposes, stitching together material in search of the ideal, form fitting, functional layout. Many, many pieces were discarded in my search for perfection.

During moments of downtime I would climb onto the roof via a hatch in the rear of the store. I assembled a nice, raised platform, complete with a big, yellow umbrella, a cushioned lawn chair and refreshments. Day or night, I cold relax up there in comfort and observe the city through binoculars and night vision equipment.

On ground level, through the closed steel security gate protecting the front entrance, I would sometimes watch the horrific activities of the rot-eating undead as they relentlessly searched for and assaulted anything living. There were so many, many more of the monsters then, and there was nothing that I could do to stop the madness...other than to survive. Had anyone come to my gate for help, I would have aided where I could, but it never happened. Not once. Survivors all seemed to have stayed in place or moved out of town in search of distant family... or stopped surviving altogether.

Ben showed up one day, handsome and fit, a glorious animal. He appeared to be on a mission of exploration, with no concerns of any kind. He remained in the area for a couple of days, and I soon came to understand that he was very much aware of my presence.
Ah, we evaluate each other
...

Runners would chase him, snarling, snapping,
gagging, and spitting up disgusting blackness, but Ben was entirely unperturbed by the ferocity and noise of those beasts who sought to savage him.

The raging speed of the runners was nothing to Ben as he sniffed around, almost in feigned boredom at their presence. He would dodge them brilliantly, and sometimes, it seemed to me, with intended humor, for he would wait in front of a wall or large object, then dip aside just as the screaming horrors had him, only to see them smash full speed into his choice accomplice, usually leaving the berserk attacker stunned, often broken, and sometimes permanently deceased. I enjoyed the entertainment and, more importantly, completely eliminated any remaining fear of runners. I mused, sometimes, that Ben was performing for me, perhaps even teaching me. I learned a great deal about the monsters as I watched him maneuver.

My heart skipped a beat one quiet morning when he ended any pretense at being coy. Standing firmly, Ben raised his head slowly and looked directly at me, focused and intense. I understood that he was always aware of my presence, in spite of my careful seclusion, but he had never come close to investigate. We studied each other for awhile, then I extended my hand through a small opening in the gate that I had created.

Eventually, that Olympian animal, the most perfect specimen of German Shepherd I had ever seen, simply came over, analyzed my scent, then lowered himself to the ground, relaxed, and looked at me with large, gentle eyes. I thought to myself,
what a beautiful creature!
I
was captivated.

His fur was thick, shiny and clean, comprised of brown, tan and black colors, arranged by nature to offer a magazine model appearance. He seemed large to me; certainly much larger than any similar animal that I had seen before.

I raised the gate carefully, a little more than a foot. Without hesitation, Ben crawled under, sniffed me again, then proceeded to explore my “home”, with me in tow. Having witnessed his athleticism and confidence, I was thrilled to have this magnificent creature in my fortress.

From there, our story as friends is what you might expect. We became bonded with the deepest affection and trust...trust gained from experience in uncounted fights and in survival.

Grasping the concept immediately, Ben was obviously keen on my extensive training apparatus and regimen, so I added pieces for him, and then set up a sequence of mazes and equipment that we could traverse together. Ben must have had some prior experience with obstacle courses, as he quickly adapted to the drill. Frequent barrages of energetic gunfire disturbed him not even a little.

Since that large warehouse space was dark most of the time, artificial illumination was essential, but uneven. Although I did not foresee it at the time, that training in the shadows would repeatedly prove immensely valuable to us in the difficult years ahead. With an abundance of time on my hands, I modified
and improved the “gym’s” complexity and difficulty as we both grew in competence.

It was then that I developed a method of moving Ben to higher elevations via harness and a carabiner. Lifting him to the rooftop was great training for us, something I accomplished almost daily. Pulleys, ropes and hooks were fine and very effective, but as I solidified my thoughts on traveling to Oregon, it became evident that those items would be unwieldy and burdensome. With time, testing, and practice, I learned to efficiently hook him to me and haul him up forty feet to the rafters.

Sometimes we played games on the roof, since it was wide open for the most part. I especially enjoyed launching objects at runners via a giant slingshot of my own design, just to watch their reactions. Although he seemed intrigued by the business, Ben never barked at the activity. It was plain to me that he understood the potential problems created by sustained sound. My heart beat with pride as he paralleled my actions - always alert, always on guard. We became an efficient, tightly bonded team.