Driver 8: A Post-Apocalyptic Novel

CHAPTER 8

Kyle cleaned Tommy’s multiple wounds, which totaled seven. He’d been shot more than he’d let on and had lost a lot of blood, so much, Kyle was having a hard time keeping him conscious. Seeing his old friend lying there, his breathing shallow and his skin pale, broke his heart. Out of the millions of miles he’d driven since the war, he never once came upon anyone he knew, now that he had, he was close to losing them.

Tommy shook for a second then opened his eyes to just above a slit. “Kyle. I’m thirsty.”

Kyle took a bottle of water from the table next to him and poured a little into Tommy’s mouth. “Hey buddy, do you want some meds. You know, pain stuff?” Kyle asked.

Tommy shook his head.

“You sure. Why feel the pain if you don’t have to,” Kyle said.

“Pains one of the few things that make me feel alive,” Tommy said, the tempo of his voice slower than it normally was.

“A glutton for punishment,” Kyle joked.

“That’s me,” Tommy said before coughing. “Argh, it hurts to cough, I hate that.”

“C’mon man, let me get you some pain meds,” Kyle insisted.

“No, I don’t want to die in a fog,” Tommy said.

“You’re not going to die, stop that talk,” Kyle said reassuring himself more than Tommy.

“I’ve missed you, brother. I’m sad that we didn’t run into each other years before but I’m so happy that we did when we did.”

“Me too.”

“There’s a place. Jacob found a map. They say it’s untouched. They say it’s paradise,” Tommy mumbled.

Kyle raised his brow in confusion. Was Tommy fading? Was this it?

“You should go there, live your life in peace,” Tommy continued.

“Maybe after I find Portia we all can go,” Kyle said playing along. He had no idea what Tommy was talking about.

“Portia is such a beautiful name. I never found anyone. I’m not meant for it. Was never good at it,” Tommy mused.

“Maybe when we all go to paradise you’ll find a hot blonde with huge tits,” Kyle joked.

A smile stretched across Tommy’s face, “That’s sounds nice.” He coughed and groaned in pain. “I’m so tired,” he said as he closed his eyes.

“Thanks for saving me,” Kyle said taking Tommy’s hand in his.

Tommy opened his eyes and said, “My phone, find my phone.”

“Why?”

“Jacob. He might have called,” Tommy said pointing towards the window.

Kyle went to the pack and found the satellite phone. He took it out and checked it. The screen didn’t show a missed call. “No calls.”

“Outside, go outside.”

Doing as Tommy said, Kyle went outside. As soon as he cleared the house, the phone beeped, he looked at the screen and saw he now had a signal. He stared at it hoping a notification would pop up telling him the phone had a message.

A second beep sounded. The screen read, 1 NEW MESSAGE.

Kyle hit the message button. The phone dialed a number, clicked twice and the message began.

“Tommy, Jacob here, we tracked down a truck that had come from The Collective. It made a stop in Salina and was on its way to St. George when it was hit by a tribe of Generates. We’re now tracking the Generates. They have a small settlement west of Richfield in the Fishlake National Forest. Heading there now. I’ll be in contact soon.”

Kyle ran inside, “Tommy, I think I know where she is. Jacob left a message. She was sent to the Republic.”

Tommy didn’t respond. His eyes were closed and he lay motionless.

“Tommy?” Kyle asked walking up beside the bed.

Still Tommy lay motionless.

Kyle checked his pulse but didn’t find anything. He sighed and sat on the bed next to Tommy. “Ah, shit. I’m so sorry,” he said. With Tommy dead he needed to press forward. First thing he needed to do was call Jacob and see if he had further information. Timing was everything. He left the bedside and headed back outside. Once he was in the open and the phone had a signal he dialed the last number on the phone.

The phone clicked and began to ring. He patiently waited, but no one answered. “Come on, pick up.”

With the best clues as to where Portia might be, Kyle began to load his truck with anything of value he could find from the house and Tommy’s truck. It took him a short time to get everything he needed, the last order of business was Tommy.

It had become custom to burn bodies as burying them led to Generates or other animals digging them up. Using a small amount of gasoline, he dosed the bed and surrounding area. That would be enough to ensure the entire house would burn down. When he was ready, he lit a Molotov cocktail and tossed it into the bedroom. The bottle exploded into a ball of flames catching the bed and everything around on fire. Soon the entire room was covered in flames with black smoke pouring out of the front door and windows.

Kyle got behind the wheel of his truck and watched as the flames now engulfed the small house. “Goodbye, Tommy, I’ll see you in Valhalla.” He put the truck into gear, slammed on the accelerator and sped off towards his first stop, Salina.

Portia opened her eyes from a dead sleep and bolted upright. Sweat clung to her forehead and face. She looked around to find she was in the backseat of an SUV. The last thing she remembered was fighting the urge to fall asleep. Laughter came from outside. She twirled around to look but the windows were steamed up. She wiped an area and peered through the grimy window. Not far away, she saw the ragtag group sitting around a fire, talking, eating and telling jokes. Curious and hungry, she exited the truck. When she slammed the door the group all turned their heads and stared.

She gave them a nervous wave and cautiously walked towards them.

“Don’t be shy,” Jacob said waving her over. “We don’t bite.”

“Unless you want us too,” a large man with a thick beard said. In the group he was known a Crusher, it was a name he’d been given early on after he’d crushed a man’s skull between his hands. He was a hulk of a man, standing six foot seven with hands that were oversized even for his stature.

Portia took a seat next to Crusher who gave her a wink. “Smells good,” she said looking at the open pot cooking over the fire.

“Yeah, but it tastes like shit,” Crusher joked shoveling a large amount of the stew into his mouth.

“It’s my specialty,” another man said. He went by the name, Chef, primarily because that had been his occupation before the war and due to the fact he was the team’s cook. He stirred the contents and continued, “I call it Whatever Stew.”

“Hmm, why do you call it that?” Portia asked.

“Because I make it with whatever ingredients I have available,” Chef said his thick New York accent showing through.

Portia smiled.

“Would you like some?” Chef asked.

Portia nodded.

“I introduced myself last night, but I didn’t get your name,” Jacob interjected as he stirred his bowl of stew with a spoon.

“Portia,” she answered.

“Nice to meet you, Portia, again my name is Jacob, and going around from my left, you have Leigh, who you met last night, Crusher, Chef and Gunny over their on watch.”

In earshot, Gunny turned and waved.

“Some interesting names,” Portia said taking a bowl of stew from Chef.

“They think they’re super heroes or something,” Leigh quipped.

Portia gave Crusher a cautious look and said, “I can assume you crush things.” She nodded to Chef and said, “And yours is simple, you’re a chef.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Chef said.

“And Gunny because he likes guns?” Portia asked.

“No, on the account he was a Gunnery Sergeant in the Marines,” Jacob said.

“Oh,” Portia said. She took a spoonful of stew and brought it to her lips. She blew on it and sipped it. “Hmm, has a meaty, wait, it tastes like corned beef hash.”

“Close, its a couple cans of dog food, mixed with potatoes, canned corn, powdered garlic and onion.”

A look of revulsion swept over her face as she put the bowl down.

“Now why did you have to tell her about the dog food?” Jacob said smacking Chef on the arm.

“I’ll have you know that those old cans of dog food are decent. It was made with decent ingredients. Hell, a can of dog food is a better meal than what you can get at any roadside slop house in the Republic.”

“But now you’ve got the lady all upset,” Jacob said.

Portis wiped her mouth and looked for a bottle of water.

Sensing her needs, Leigh pulled out a canteen and offered it to Portia.

Portia took it, swished the water in her mouth and spit it out.

“Give me the water back,” Leigh snapped unexpectedly.

“But I didn’t take a drink yet,” Portia said surprised by Leigh’s abrupt change in tone.

“You spit out a precious resource. I won’t have you wasting anymore water. I get you didn’t like the taste of the stew but we don’t waste,” Leigh barked. She looked at Jacob and said, “She must be from The Collective.”

Portia handed the canteen back and said, “I’m sorry.”

Leigh snatched it back. “If you’re going to run with us, rule number one, don’t waste resources.”

“I’m sorry,” Portia again said.

Jacob jumped in, “She didn’t know.”

“Jacob, what are we doing? This little side job cost us two days, we could’ve been in Puerto Penasco by now and on our way,” Leigh complained.

“I made a promise, you know that,” Jacob said.

“But you made a promise to your team first,” Leigh countered.

Portia watched the back and forth. Leigh was a strong women by all counts. She looked tough, but her persona screamed, “Don’t fuck with me.” She was impressive looking with her war paint, intricate braids and leather clothes.

“My team is my top priority,” Jacob said defending himself.

“I don’t even want to go, but we voted as a team and the majority wants to go. I say fuck everyone, let’s go kick ass and at least go out fighting,” Leigh said.

“I agree with Leigh,” Crusher said nodding.

“I love ya’ girl, but I’m over this shit, I’ve been fighting for my entire life. If there is a place called Paradise, I want to see it,” Chef chimed in.

“Cause you’re a pussy,” Leigh growled at Chef.

“I am what I eat,” Chef countered with a devilish smile.

“Team, enough, we voted and it was three to two. And as always we do things as a team,” Jacob said.

“Dumbest thing ever,” Leigh said.

Portia loudly cleared her throat and asked, “What’s Paradise?”

“There’s been rumors floating around for years that an island exists, not far off the coast of Central America. It’s untouched by the ravages of war; no radiation, no Generates, no conflict. Anyway, up until recently I thought it was just a rumor until a map came into my possession. The coordinates point to an island exactly where all the rumors say it is, seven hundred plus nautical miles west of Costa Rica.”

“That map is bullshit,” Leigh said.

“Let me finish,” Jacob said. “My team has decided to leave this God forsaken place and sail there.”

“Half of your team is going in protest,” Leigh blurted out.

“The reason this is even an issue with our team is because over the past year, The Republic, The Collective, and other countries or territories have aligned under one cause, to wipe out all Leviathan. They’re afraid of us, so they want us all dead,” Crusher said.

“I think my husband mentioned your group to me; I think he told me he killed someone from Leviathan,” Portia said.

The group grew silent and all eyes stared at her.

Noticing the awkward silence, Portia asked, “Did I say something?”

“Your husband killed one of ours?” Leigh asked, her back stiffening.

Noticing everyone’s reaction, Portia said, “He didn’t murder him, it was a fair fight.”

“Give us a moment in private,” Jacob said motioning for everyone to leave the fire.

The three got up and walked away, Leigh giving Portia a hard stare as she walked off.

“How did you husband get into an altercation with a Leviathan?” Jacob asked.

“My husband was…is a driver for The Collective. It was years ago, that’s all I know,” Portia explained.

“He wasn’t operating under orders to kill Leviathan was he?”

“No, not that I’m aware. Like I said, this was a long time ago,” Portia said, fear began to creep in as she realized she might have said the wrong thing.

“Do you recall the Leviathan’s name?”

“No, my husband doesn’t talk to me much about what he does on the road. Listen, I don’t want trouble. I was placed into slavery less than a week ago. I’ve seen horrible stuff and all I want is to find my husband if he’s alive and from there, go somewhere safe.”

Jacob raised his right brow and asked, “Drivers are highly respected. What did you or your husband do?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’m all ears, I think you have time. We’re not going anywhere until nightfall,” Jacob said crossing his arms.

“Are you going to hurt me?” Portia asked thinking she might as well ask and wanting to steer the conversation away from the current topic.

“No. If we wanted you dead you’d be dead.”

“What do you plan on doing with me?” she asked.

“Don’t know yet, but I can tell you that we’re not heading anywhere close to The Collective. You’re more than welcome to walk out of here now, otherwise you’re coming with us. Unless we can drop you off on our way south.”

“You’re really leaving. You think this place is real?” Portia asked.

“I don’t know, but if we stay we’ll all end up dead. Everyone’s gunning for us now,” Jacob said.

“Why?”

“Because we aren’t beholden to anyone and we’ve been known to cause some problems for the elite. My team has caused quite a stir with our attacks against slavers. The powers that be don’t like that, hence why they’ve all joined a pact to have us all killed.”

“Do you have family?” Portia asked.

Jacob paused. He picked up a stick and began to poke the wood in the fire.

Sensing it was a sensitive question, Portia shifted the topic again. “I need to make contact with someone I know in The Collective, how can I do that?”

“I have a sat phone. You can make a call, you’ll need a clearing as this hillside and the heavy canopy cover will make it difficult to get a signal.”

“Jacob, Gunny here, we’ve got tangos to the north, I count fourteen. They look like Marshals,” Gunny radioed.

Jacob jumped to his feet and cried out, “Team up, grab your shit, we’re outta here in two.” He keyed his radio and replied to Gunny. “Estimated time to contact?”

“Ten to fifteen mikes, over,” Gunny answered.

“Copy. Get your ass down here Gunny, we’re leaving.”

“Roger that,” Gunny said and started down the hill towards them.

“Fuck this, I’m so tired of running. Can’t we just make a deal with these guys? I’m so over this shit!” Chef hollered as he raced to the truck.

“Who are these Marshal’s?” Portia asked now on her feet but unsure of what to do.

“They’re the corrupt lawmen of the Republic. While we’ve been tracking your truck and these Generates, they were tracking us. We’ve kept ahead of them by a day but somehow they’ve locked onto us. I thought we were safe in these hills, miles from any improved road,” Jacob explained. “Go get in the SUV, we’re leaving now.”

Portia ran to the SUV and got in the back.

Leigh was right behind her and got in the front passenger seat.

Crusher, Chef and Gunny jumped into an old Chevy pickup.

Jacob tossed some gear in the back before he got behind the wheel of the SUV. He keyed his radio, “Crusher, you lead us out of here.”

“Roger that, boss,” Crusher replied.

Leigh rolled her window down and stuck out her AR platform rifle. “Why are we always running? We should stay and fight. If we dug in we could take them.”

“There could be more, just keep your eyes open, we don’t need to be racing into an ambush,” Jacob said.

Leigh grumbled.

Portia put her seat belt on and stared out the window.

Jacob caught a glimpse of her in the rear view mirror. A question suddenly came to mind. “You never told me who your husband is. I’m familiar with a few Drivers for The Collective, maybe I know him.”

She locked eyes with him in the mirror and answered, “My husband is Driver Eight.”

He looked away for fear she’d see he knew something. He knew that name and had just heard he was dead. Timing was everything and telling her then that Driver Eight was dead was not the right time.

Five hours and forty-three long slow miles later, Jacob and his team pulled off the back roads and onto a long gravel drive.

“I saw a house, about a half mile in,” Crusher radioed.

“Copy that,” Jacob replied following closely behind Crusher’s truck.

The drive gently winded along a dry creek bed until it stopped at an old cattle guard and gate.

Crusher stopped. He and Chef surveilled the area first before Gunny exited the truck to inspect the gate.

“You sure this is a good idea?” Leigh asked.

“I don’t know,” Jacob replied.

“What’s the problem?” Portia asked.

“Nothing,” Jacob said.

Gunny looked at the rusty gate and found it unlocked and pushed it open. The tired metal screamed as it grinded against itself. He looked at Crusher and waved him on through.

They all passed through the gate with Leigh closing it behind them. Ahead of them sat an old two story house with four outbuildings; one a large barn and the other three were sheds.

Jacob pulled the SUV alongside the front deck and scanned the house and the surrounding area.

Leigh didn’t waste any time, she hopped out and went towards the front door. When she placed her full weight on the first step, her foot broke through the dry rotten wood.

Crusher saw her and began to laugh.

She glared at him and said, “Fuck you.”

“Sorry, that shit was just funny,” Crusher said.

“Your fat ass better watch out then, you’ll fall through the deck,” Leigh shot back. She removed her foot and tried again, this time not breaking through. The house was in bad shape and appeared to have been abandoned for many years.

The team secured the house and out buildings before unloading their gear.

“Let’s get everything inside. I don’t want anything of value in the rigs tonight,” Jacob ordered hauling several packs inside.

Portia approached him and asked, “Can I borrow that phone?”

“Yeah, but let me make a call first,” Jacob said putting down the packs in the front room and removing the phone from his jacket pocket. He powered it on and waited patiently for a message notification to pop up, but nothing. He hit the green call button and waited. The phone rang and rang then disconnected. “Shit,” he said hitting the green button again, this time it didn’t connect. The phone beeped several times signaling he didn’t have any service. “Nothing, no service. We’re out of range of any sats.”

“Can I try?” Portia asked.

“Sure but don’t try too much, I don’t want to run down my battery,” Jacob said offering her the phone.

She took it and then realized she didn’t know her direct line, in fact, she didn’t know anyone’s direct line at The Collective. The phone service there relied on old phone lines. There were several lines at dispatch that allowed outside calls to come in but she didn’t know those numbers. “Jacob.”

“Yeah,” he replied, his attention on unpacking.

“Stupid question, but do you know the direct number for The Collective?”

He laughed. “Sorry, sweetheart, I don’t have them on speed dial.”

How stupid are you? She thought. I have a phone and I can’t make a call because I don’t know the number.

Jacob could see she was upset, he walked over and took the phone. “We’ll figure something out.”

“I need to know if my husband is alive,” she said somberly.

He lowered his head and said, “You said your husband was Driver Eight.”

“Yeah.”

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

“What?”

“It might be best if you sat down,” he said pointing to a dining room table in the next room.

Leigh was walking in and overheard his last comment. She scrunched her face and walked past, she was curious about what was happening.

“I don’t need to sit, if you’re going to tell me my husband is dead, it wouldn’t be the first time,” Portia replied standing tall.

Leigh placed a box in the far room and slowly opened the lid and pretended she was sorting through it, her ear locked on their conversation.

“Days ago I had contact with Tommy O’Leary, he’s one of ours if I didn’t mention it before. Anyway, he was heading to The Collective for a job when he’d received word that an old friend of his, a driver, was killed. I don’t know how but he told me his name was Driver Eight.”

“He didn’t mention anything about how?” Portia asked.

“Like I said, he didn’t say how, just that he was dead.”

Portia went to the dining table and sat down. She put her head in her hands and began to weep. She had been told of Kyle’s death before and it turned out to be a lie but this time it did make sense. All she had to do was look at her situation. Here she was hundreds of miles away from the one place she could call home. She had been almost sold into slavery and was witness to a Generate blood ceremony. It was conceivable Kyle was dead, a victim of Barry’s.

Leigh’s hard edge melted away. She walked over and knelt next to Portia. “I heard, I’m sorry.”

“I’m alone,” Portia whimpered.

Jacob came up and said, “You’re not. You’re with us now.”

“He’s right, you’re with us,” Leigh said softly rubbing Portia’s back.

It wasn’t often that Jacob witnessed Leigh’s softer side and he liked it. “I’m going to let you all talk, time to get the rest of the gear and secure the vehicles.”

“I want to go with you,” Portia blurted out to Jacob as he walked away.

He stopped and turned around, “To Paradise?”

“Yes, I want to go with you. I don’t know if it’s real but this place doesn’t offer me anything anymore. Whatever I can do, ask of me. I know I’m not Leviathan, but I’ll carry my weight.”

Jacob glanced at Leigh who returned it with a smile. “Deal, welcome to the team.”

Kyle pulled his truck over and fueled up. From his vantage point he had a good view of the city below. He had made the decision right from the start that he was going directly through Grand Junction, regardless of The Generate activity. Anything else would take him another half day or more, something he couldn’t do.

Driving through Grand Junction was already dangerous but doing so at night made it even more precarious because when the sun set, the Generates came out.

The glow of numerous fires below told him the city was truly occupied by the heathens. His one saving grace could be if they were preoccupied feasting or performing any number of their known ceremonies. For a group of humans that had devolved to their current state, they very much clung to things uniquely human, such as organized rituals and ceremonies.

Taking the main road through Grand Junction wasn’t going to work so he planned on driving back roads and side streets. The Generates were many but even with their numbers, they couldn’t man every road.

Armed with a street map of downtown, he plotted several routes and put them to memory. Part of his plan was to make the drive using only his night vision, he had hoped to have moon glow but his timing was off. He attached the night vision to his helmet, prepared every weapon he had and loaded every magazine. He was ready to go but needed to do one more thing. He took the phone and called the number. All he got was a steady ring. He began to grow concerned that something had happened to this Jacob character. Frustrated, he tossed the phone onto the seat, got behind the wheel, and headed towards the first turn off just a mile ahead.

Gunny walked in through the front door and headed towards the others who were grouped together around the dining table. The only light Jacob wanted on was a small battery powered lantern.

“What’s for dinner?” Gunny asked looking around at the long faces.

“Don’t know, Chef said it would be up but that was a good thirty minutes ago,” Leigh complained, she was cleaning her side arm, a Glock 17.

“Why does everyone look like their pet cat was just killed?” Gunny joked, taking off his tactical vest and hanging it from the seat back.

“Hungry,” Leigh answered.

Jacob was busy looking over a map while Portia just sat, lost in her own thoughts.

“Well, I’m going to go check on Chef, I promised Crusher I’d bring him some chow,” Gunny said and headed towards the kitchen. The hall was dark and from the absence of light coming from the kitchen, Chef wasn’t there. “Hey, Chef you there?” Gunny asked walking into the pitch black room. He removed a flashlight and turned it on. From the looks of it, Chef hadn’t been doing anything back here. He quickly exited and went back to the group. “Hey guys, Chef isn’t back there. And he’s not cooking shit.”

“Maybe he’s jerking off somewhere,” Leigh joked.

“No, I’m serious, he’s gone, somethings not right,” Gunny stressed.

Leigh jumped up, quickly put the pistol back together, inserted a full magazine and racked the slide. “Let’s go look for Chef.”

Jacob turned to Portia who stood looking lost. He pulled out an old Smith and Wesson revolver and handed it to her. “Here, you’ll need something to protect you just in case.” Portia took the gun and held it in her open hand unsure of how to use it. “It’s simple, point, and pull the trigger. You have six rounds in there,” Jacob said and headed out with Leigh and Gunny.

“Should I come too?” she asked.

Jacob hollered out, “No, stay put.”

The three exited the house and found Crusher on the far left side leaning against the corner of the house. “What’s up?” he called out.

“Chef, he’s missing,” Jacob said.

“I haven’t seen him,” Crusher said.

“Stay on guard, Portia’s inside, Leigh go around back check out those small outbuildings, I’ll go search the barn and Gunny, go to the garage,” Jacob ordered.

Just as they all stepped off, the front door opened and Portia came out, “Hey, he’s in here.”

They all came back to the house. Jacob entered the house first, he was a mixed bag of emotions, first and foremost, he was concerned, but secondly, if he found out that Chef was screwing off, he’d be severely angry with him. “Where were you?” he asked Chef.

Hovering near the dining table, Chef answered, “I was out back, looking to see if the propane tank was off. The oven is gas, thought maybe I could cook something warm for us.”

Jacob approached him and asked again, “Where were you?”

“I told you, I went out back to see if I could find the propane tank.”

“You went back to the kitchen almost fifteen, maybe twenty minutes ago,” Jacob said, suspecting something was wrong.

“It’s that simple, don’t be such a stress monster,” Chef snapped. “And I’ll let you know I did find the propane and we have a pot of baked beans cooking now.”

The others stood just behind Jacob, all leering suspiciously at him.

“What the fuck guys, I was only trying to make sure we had warm food versus cold, lighten up,” Chef barked and stormed off.

“Next time tell us, if you haven’t been aware, we’re being hunted right now,” Jacob hollered.

“Give him a break, boss,” Leigh said and went back to the dining table.

“Communication is key to everything,” Jacob said.

“I disagree, I think its firepower,” Leigh said, dropping the magazine, locking the slide to the rear and catching the bullet as it flew out of the chamber.

“If I were fifteen years younger,” Gunny joked at Leigh and gave her a wink.

“That’s sweet Pops, but I like my men at least younger than eighty,” she fired back. “Although you’re hot for an old guy,” she said returning the wink.

“Don’t listen to her, I’m only fifty-five, but I can still get it up,” Gunny said to Portia.

Portia chuckled at the inappropriate conversation.

Jacob hadn’t moved, he was still looking towards the kitchen. He sensed something was wrong but couldn’t put a finger on what it was.

The drive was slow but so far successful. He’d only had to make one detour and quickly got back on his route.

The glow from the countless fires helped illuminate his path and allowed him to go faster. The other major impediment was the debris that riddled the streets. He found himself swerving and veering around any number of large items left strewn on the street.

By his estimate he was over half way across town. He came to a crossroad street. From his memory, if he turned left and went south it would take him out of town but in order to get back on the old interstate he’d have to drive a few hours around through a pass. Straight ahead was direct and the interchange for the freeway was only two miles away. The issue was the bright glow from a bulk of the fires came from that direction.

“Which way?” he said out loud.

Out of the shadows a woman ran up and slammed her left hand on the hood, “Help, please.”

The clarity through the night vision wasn’t the best but it was good enough to tell him she wasn’t a Generate.

“Help, they’re after me, please,” she pleaded, her voice echoing down the street. Cradled in her left arm was a baby in a swaddle. “Please, help me.”

He revved the truck, hoping she’d get out of his way but she didn’t. He had three choices, run her over, help her or go in reverse.

The distinct cries from Generates sounded to his right. He looked but couldn’t see anything…yet, but they were coming.

“Help me,” she screamed, her voice panicked after hearing the Generates coming.

He revved the engine again and tapped the accelerator enough to warn her to get out of the way, but she wasn’t relenting.

“Please, they’ll kill me and my baby.”

This was not the situation Kyle wanted or needed to be in. He could easily run the woman over and even considered it, but doing so only made him like Barry or Xavier. No, he had to help her. He cracked his door and yelled, “Go to the passenger door!”

She ran for it just as a small pack of Generates cleared the corner of a building and raced towards them.

He leaned across the cab, unlocked the door and pushed it open.

She reached the door, put the small infant down on the seat and went to get in herself but was prevented when a Generate grabbed her arm and pulled her out. She hit the ground and screamed.

Kyle shot the Generate several times.

She rolled to her side and went to get up but three more Generates tackled her. She wailed in pain as they began to plunge their knives into her.

Kyle emptied his magazine into them but more came. She was dead and he knew it. He heard more cries from Generates and looked ahead to see what could only be described as a herd coming his way. Unable to save her, he slammed his foot down on the accelerator and turned the steering wheel hard to the left. His plan to save time by going through Grand Junction was over. If he wanted to live through the night, he’d have to take the longer route south.

Through the altercation, the baby cried and wailed but there was nothing Kyle could do to comfort it until he was well enough away.

The bright glow from the city grew more distant with each mile he took. Feeling he was at a safe distance, he pulled the truck over. He tore off the night vision, reached down and picked up the crying child and held it in his arms. “Ssh, baby, ssh, it’s okay now,” he said softly rocking the baby in his arms. By the size, the child was no more than three or four months old. After several minutes of rocking and shushing, the child grew quiet and began to coo.

“What in the hell am I going to do with a baby?” he asked himself out loud. “Am I cursed?” Not only had he tacked on additional time to Salina but he now had a baby to care for.

“I don’t know how you do it, but you managed to turn regular canned beans into a gourmet meal,” Gunny gushed patting his belly.

Chef nodded, a big smile stretched across his face.

Through the meal, Jacob kept an eye on Chef.

Leigh picked up on this and was also being watchful.

“You don’t look that much older than me. How long were you a chef before the war?” Portia asked.

“Not long, I had just graduated culinary school and was on my way to my first real chef’s position when it began raining nuclear weapons. I was just west of Albuquerque when I started getting the reports on my mobile phone and on the radio. I never made it to Phoenix, thank God. I first went to a FEMA camp but that quickly deteriorated, I then spent a couple years migrating from place to place with a small group of others. One by one we began to get picked off by marauders and what not. A couple more years pass, I’m working for a warlord in northern Arizona. I run into Gunny here, he took a job working security for this warlord. What was his name?”

“I shit you not, he called himself King David, this dumb ass literally thought he was a decedent of the great Kind David,” Gunny answered.

“Yeah, King David. What a character he was. Liked his food cooked until it was burned,” Chef said.

“You were his cook or chef?” Portia asked.

“Yeah, it’s strange but warlords like having their own chefs, it’s like a status thing, very odd. I thought I was doomed having that as a skill set, but so far, it’s worked,” Chef said.

“How did you end up with everyone else?” Portia asked.

“Me and Gunny were running together after leaving King David, we met Crusher in a bar about a year later then about a year later we found ourselves prisoners to another warlord who operates or I should say, did operate out of southeastern Nevada. We were sent to a slave market but never made it to auction. Next thing I know, I see Jacob here shooting the lock off my cage.”

“You saved them from slavers?” Portia asked.

“Yep,” Jacob nodded.

“And what about Leigh?” Portia asked.

“He saved me a couple years later. I was being chased by some guys and before I know it, Jacob here is saving the day,” Leigh said.

“And Leigh, what is the deal with the pink grenade?” Portia asked.

“I found Sally years ago, she’s been with me a long time.”

“Sally?”

“I like the name,” Leigh replied.

“Why don’t you use it…sorry her?”

“I just don’t want to toss her for nothing, if I ever use her, it will have special meaning,” Leigh said prideful.

“I was a slave once too. A man by the name of Michael, one of the original Leviathan saved me. He was an old Marine, like Gunny here. He’d lost his family to marauders after the war. With nowhere to go, he dedicated himself to bringing justice to an unjust world. Some say he was the first Leviathan, but I don’t believe it,” Jacob explained.

“Who was?”

“There’s a lot of rumors, but I don’t think Michael was even though he was the oldest Leviathan I’d ever met before.”

“Who started the other teams?” Portia asked, genuinely curious.

“I helped get others started. While others have just sprouted up on their own,” Jacob answered.

“Fascinating,” Portia said, her tone clearly excited by the conversation. “What does one do to become like you?”

Chef blurted out, “No need to worry about that, soon enough it will all be over.”

Jacob gave Chef an odd look.

“Over?” Leigh asked.

“Yeah, like soon we’ll be sailing for Paradise,” Chef replied.

The crackling of a radio came from the kitchen.

Everyone got quiet and looked at each other.

Jacob jumped to his feet, followed by Chef, who had the look of fear in his eyes.

“We have the house in view, just trying to make contact with the mole,” the gruff voice radioed.

Chef sprinted for the kitchen but only made it a few feet before Jacob tackled him to the ground. “Who is that?”

Leigh raced past them and into the kitchen, she returned holding the radio.

“We’ve got the place surrounded, just still waiting on our contact to let us know what it looks like inside.”

Jacob punched Chef in the face and yelled, “What have you done?”

Blood streamed down Chef’s face from a busted lip, he opened his blood stained teeth and replied, “I did what you should have done. Made a deal. I’m sick and tired of this cat and mouse game. I’m tired of fighting, I’m tired of our stupid fucking code. I just want to live in peace. I want to do nothing but eat, fuck and drink and they promised me that.”

“In exchange for us? You gave us up to be killed so you can eat, fuck and drink? That’s all our years of friendship have come to equal?” Jacob asked, his face showing the huge emotional toll this was having on him.

“Teams one and two, just go, fuck this guy,” the radio boomed.

Another voice came over the radio and said, “I’ve got sights on the big fucker, taking it.”

“No!” Leigh yelled running for the front door. She threw the door open and screamed, “Crusher, get down!”

Crusher looked over at her and cocked his head, surprised that she was screaming at him.

A single shot cracked in the distance.

Leigh ran towards Crusher but it was too late. The single shot struck him in head. He slid down the side of the house and was dead before he hit the ground. Leigh ran to his side and cried out, “Ah, no, no!”

Hearing the gun shot, Jacob sprang to action, he ran for his weapons near the dining table.

Gunny did the same, while Chef got to his feet and ran out the front door. “Don’t shoot, it’s me, Chef, don’t shoot!” he yelled waving his arms.

The radio had been left on the floor where Leigh dropped it. The gruff voice said, “Light it up. Kill them all.”

Chef heard the radio and turned to run back inside but didn’t make it to the front door. A massive volley of gunfire erupted from three directions, the front, west side and south. By the time his body hit the deck, he had over sixteen shots in him.

Leigh grabbed Crusher’s rifle and crawled under the deck for cover.

Jacob flipped the table over and called out to Portia, “Get over here!”

Portia did as he said and leapt behind the table.

Hundreds of rounds peppered the sides of the house, shattering windows and splintering the wood siding. Inside the house, rounds smashed into the walls, furniture, mirrors, and light fixtures. Glass, sheetrock and paneling flew everywhere.

All Jacob and Portia could do was lay low, hoping the thick wood table provided adequate cover while Gunny took shelter in a closet under the stairs.

The hail of gunfire slowed then came to an abrupt end. Distant voices could be heard calling for ceasefire.

“Gunny?” Jacob called out.

“I’m good,” Gunny replied.

“How are you?” Jacob asked Portia.

“I think I’m fine,” she answered.

“Gunny, have you seen Leigh?”

“Nope.”

Jacob looked up but couldn’t see anything, the house was immersed in darkness and through the shattered windows he could make out the faint light coming from the red dot scopes. “They’re coming!”

Gunny exited the closet and went to the back of the house, he looked out and saw the same thing Jacob had seen. “They’re coming from the back.”

“It’s pitch black, the best thing to do is make a run for it. We’ll have the cover of night,” Jacob called out.

Gunny came back and flatly said, “I’m done running. I’m making my stand tonight. Plus you’ll need me, it may be pitch black but those assholes probably have night vision, you’re not going to get ten feet without someone seeing you.”

“I’m not staying here to die, we’ll make a run for the vehicles in the garage, it’s fifty yards away,” Jacob said.

“I’m an old man, tonight I fight. But I’ll tell you what, I’ll lay down some fire for you and the girl here.”

“Are you sure?” Jacob asked.

“Yeah, you go, get her to safety, I’ve lived a long life.”

“You’re a good man, Gunny,” Jacob said.

“Oh, shut up, I don’t want to hear a bunch of gushy sentiment,” Gunny said heading towards the stairs. “I’ll have a better vantage point upstairs. When you hear firing, run.”

Jacob and Portia got to their feet and slowly made their way to the front door and waited.

“Jacob is that you?” Leigh called out from under the deck.

“Holy shit, Leigh, you’re alive,” Jacob said just above a whisper.

“Takes more than a few hundred rounds to take me out,” she said, her voice carrying through the slats in the wood.

“We’re making a run for the vehicles in the garage, come with us,” Jacob offered.

“Where’s Gunny?” she asked.

“He’s staying, going to provide cover fire,” Jacob answered.

Leigh didn’t reply.

“No time, are you in or not?” Jacob asked.

“Yeah, I’ll go with you,” Leigh said and crawled to the end of the porch.

Gunny opened fire from a position on the second floor. In the distance the Marshals began to holler and call out as they took cover.

“Let’s go,” Jacob said taking Portia’s hand and raced out the front door. Together they leaped from the deck and hit the ground running.

Leigh sprinted from her position and caught up.

The Marshals returned fire on the house.

“Come on you sons of bitches, come and get me!” Gunny hollered and followed it up with a howl of joy.

Portia’s heart beat so hard it felt like it was going to burst. She counted each stride, knowing it basically equaled a yard. If she could make fifty, she was there.

“Runners on the right!” a voice cried out.

Rounds began to hit around Jacob, Portia and Leigh.

“Thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine,” Portia counted under her breath.

“Get some you mother fuckers!” Gunny screamed out.

“Forty-three, forty-four, forty-five,” Portia continued.

A shot whizzed by Leigh’s head. “Damn that was close.” A second round came but this one hit her in the left thigh, it went in and came out, but along its journey the five point five six millimeter round tore her artery. Her leg gave out and she tumbled to the ground.

“Leigh!” Jacob cried out. He stopped, picked her up and continued on.

“Fifty!” Portia said loudly but she was still sigh of reaching the garage by twenty feet.

“I’m bleeding badly,” Leigh said wincing in pain.

“You’re fine, nothing can happen to you,” Jacob said his voice cracking with emotion.

“Here,” Portia said reaching the garage. She flung the door open and ran inside.

Jacob and Leigh were just behind. When he crossed the threshold, Jacob tripped and both, he and Leigh fell to the ground hard.

Leigh grunted out in pain.

“Portia, here are the keys to the SUV, start it up, go,” Jacob ordered.

Portia took the keys and made for the SUV.

“Boss, I’m hit pretty fucking bad,” Leigh said.

Rounds started to hit the side of the garage.

“You’re going to be fine, you listen to me, you’re going to be fine,” Jacob said in an attempt to reassure Leigh.

The SUV roared to life, tossing light across the garage.

Now able to see her leg, Jacob was shocked at the volume of blood. He put his hand against the spot and applied pressure.

Knowing her fate was sealed, she placed her shaking hands on top of his and said softly, “Go, live a good life in Paradise.”

“I’m not leaving you,” he said, his eyes welling up with tears. For years he’d cared for her, but never wanted to express his feelings for concern it would be a distraction for the team.

She placed her left hand on his cheek and said, “Thank you for saving me all those years ago.”

He could see the life draining out of her. No matter how hard he pressed down on the wound, the blood kept pouring out. “No, please, don’t go, I need you.”

“You don’t need anyone, you’re the boss,” she said wiping a tear from his cheek.

“I’ll fix you, I will,” he said and pushed down as hard as he could against her leg.

The rounds kept slamming against the side of the garage.

Her hand wandered over her vest until it found Sally. “I’ve got my girl here. No, go, please, go.”

Portia watched the emotional scene play out and she too began to cry.

Heeding Leigh’s words, Jacob left her next to the truck and got inside the SUV.

“Go?” Portia asked.

He wiped the tears from his cheek, lowered the window, readied his rifle and said, “Drive.”

Gunny put up a fight but eventually, the odds and firepower were against him. After the Marshals’ cleared the main house and killed Gunny, they went to the outbuildings.

A young Marshal walked through the shattered door of the garage and discovered Leigh. “Ty, Aaron, guys, I’ve found another!”

Leigh took a labored breath and lifted her head.

Seeing her move the young Marshal cried out, “She’s alive, the chick is alive. Guys hurry up.” He walked over and shined a flashlight down on her.

Leigh was surrounded by a large pool of blood and her face was so white it almost looked translucent. Her hands were cradled in her lap with her legs spread out in front of her.

Six Marshals entered the garage, their individual lights casting a blinding light on her.

Aaron, the lead Marshal, stepped forward and knelt down to get a better look at Leigh. “Look fellas, she took a round through the thigh, you see that?” he asked pointing at the entry wound.

The others nodded.

“Now that’s a shot. By the amount of blood, that round cut through her artery and now the bitch is about to expire from blood loss,” he laughed.

“With her, that’s four, that means one got away, their leader,” Ty said.

“And he had someone with him, another woman,” the young Marshal said, excitement in his eyes at the prospect of torturing or even raping Leigh. “Senior Marshal Aaron, can we have some fun with her before she dies?”

Aaron stood, gave the young Marshal a hard look and asked, “Is that the kind of people you think we are?”

“Ah, but I thought…” the young Marshal said. He was new to the Marshals’ service.

“You thought right, go have fun boys, do whatever you want, she’ll be dead soon anyway.”

The men drew close to Leigh.

Another Marshal entered the barn bringing their number to eight total surrounding Leigh. “Senior Marshal, total count for us tonight is six KIA and seven wounded.”

“Fourteen,” Leigh muttered.

Aaron turned around and looked at Leigh, “Move out of the way.” The other stepped aside. “What did you say?” he asked her.

“Fourteen,” she answered, her eyes half open and a crooked smile on her face.

“Fourteen? What the hell does that mean?” Aaron asked.

Leigh exhaled her last breath. Her hands went limp, freeing Sally. The spoon flew off the grenade, it rolled between her legs and detonated.