Stage 3 | Book 4 | Charlie, page 10
part #4 of Stage 3 Series
That was it. Nine friends in total, and quite probably the last friends he would ever have. There were times when he wondered how he could ever have been so lucky.
“We have to secure the courtyard,” he announced, allowing the reflections of his friends to blur into the background as he focused back on the vehicles.
The rest needn’t be said. They had been through it enough times to know. The big blue Peterbilt that Mason had christened ‘Gloria’ would keep out most of them, but Alejandra’s Mustang came with an expiration date.
“Ally, you should really trade in that relic for a big 4X4,” Diego suggested, not for the first time.
Also not for the first time, Alejandra railed against the very idea.
“Are you kidding me? No hay manera, amigo. Ain’t no one taking away my mijito. When I put my foot to the floor, I want to know I’ll be leaving those assholes in the dust! But tell you what, muchacho. Ask me again in Mexicano, and maybe I’ll think about it.”
The boy blushed.
“Sorry, but I don’t even know enough Spanish to say that I don’t know enough Spanish.
She threw her hands in the air.
“How can you not know the language of your own people?”
The blush deepened.
“Uhh… I’m from Sacramento.”
“So, Mexicano you don’t know, but Klingon you do.”
His cheeks turned as red as a beet, and his response came as little more than a whisper.
“Hlja…”
Alejandra turned away in a huff, mumbling, “Me rindo. Putos niños en estos días.”
“There’s plenty of wood out there,” Mason spoke up, ignoring the exchange. “Christopher, Richie, you’re in charge of building the dam. Becks, let’s you and me clear them a path. Diego, Teddy, you’re the cover.”
Alejandra put a hand on the hilt of the machete.
“What, I’m not invited to the party?”
“I want you here, Ally,” Mason told her in no uncertain terms. Then he looked past her to the door with the ‘Employees Only’ sign.
She got the message. With her hand still on the weapon, she took two backward steps toward the door and nodded.
“Entendida, Mace.”
She said the rest with her eyes and the firm set of her jaw. She would watch over Mack and Sarah like a pit bull. If she got the faintest inkling that strange little Charlie was anything other than what he seemed, she would take care of it.
And knowing Ally, it wouldn’t be pretty.
CHAPTER
XI
The six of them formed up as a group and filed back into the courtyard. While the others fanned out, Mason and Becks padded softly up to the Mustang and went to work on the eight or more echoes pinned to the other side. Mason’s seven-foot length of rebar could bludgeon a man to pulp, but it had its subtle side, too. Not daring to risk making any more noise than necessary, he twirled that hundred-pound chunk of iron as easily as a broomstick and aimed the sharpened end at the closest echo. It had been a man at one point. Shorter than average, but heavily muscled. The alpha that had killed him hadn’t fed for long. There was a single bite mark on the man’s neck, and his knuckles were bloodied. He had fought the thing off. Even with his carotid artery severed and his life’s blood pouring down his chest, this sawed-off fireplug of a man had fought off a raging alpha and won. At least temporarily.
He paid his respects to the man with a nod, then he speared him through the eyeball and didn’t stop until he felt bone.
Becks’ weapon looked like a toy next to Mason’s sledgehammer, but she and that simple javelin were artistry in motion. She leapt, she spun, she danced, and with every thrust of the weapon, another echo crumpled to the ground. Realizing that his big, clumsy club was no match for the woman’s ballerina-like skills, Mason let her take out the rest of the creatures while he clambered quietly over the Mustang’s hood.
As usual, the very moment he stepped outside of the safety perimeter, he felt a familiar rush of adrenalin. Here, he was in his element. Out here, he was just another animal in a world full of animals. Out here in this God-forsaken wasteland, it was him against the world. He was alone. No responsibilities. No other lives to worry about but his own. He was free. Free to be the animal he had always fought to keep caged inside. Free to fight, free to kill, and free to die. But even as the rage welled up within him and threatened to explode through his chest, he drew up the bars, closed the cage door, and went quickly to work dragging the echoes’ bodies clear of the car.
Barely had he finished before Christopher and Richie appeared, toting a major part of the destroyed gazebo roof over their heads. They handed it across the Mustang’s hood, and with Mason manhandling one end of the thing into place and the other two crawling bodily onto the vehicle to help with the maneuvering, they soon had it set. Mason took one last precaution of tearing a shirt from the nearest body to act as a cushion between the gazebo roof and Alejandra’s mijito, then he crawled through one side of Gloria’s cab and out the other, and the four of them stood back to admire their handiwork.
“Good idea, that shirt,” Christopher hushed. “Ally’s scary enough without her car getting scratched.”
Mason let it go with a noncommittal grunt and gave the new barricade close scrutiny. There was still some open air near the Mustang’s grill, but they would soon have it plugged. Even now, Diego and Teddy were dragging in a piece of timber that must have weighed more than the two of them combined. Diego fired twice and took down two more echoes coming at a stumble, then they all worked together to shore up that last chink in the armor. And with that, they were done.
Just in time, too. No sooner had they finished the dam when something heavy thundered into the far side hard enough to rock the Mustang back on its wheels. Every weapon came up, but no one had to act. The car settled back on its axles, the dam held, and once Teddy tossed a discarded Coke bottle as far as she could into the street beyond, the creature went raging off after the sound of it shattering on the ground, and all was silent in the courtyard.
But no, not silent. It would never be that. It could never be that. An entire city was ripping itself to pieces all around them, and the only thing separating them from the maelstrom was an inch or two of plywood and a few asphalt shingles.
Mason motioned, and they all retreated back into Fort Knox as softly as they’d come.
Back inside, Alejandra greeted him with a sour look.
“They’re still in there. Sarah has a garden hose plugged into Addy’s arm, and she’s siphoning him into Mack. Clancy’s watching over her like a sentinel.” The sourness deepened as she added, painfully, “Dunno, Mace. She’s a strong girl and all, but...”
She didn’t get any farther. One look at Mason’s steely stare shut her down completely.
And that was it. Discussion over. Words weren’t needed for the inevitable. They all knew how things worked in this brand new fucked-up world, so saying it aloud would only be piling hurt upon hurt. You get bit, you turn. You get scratched, you turn. Every one of them had seen it first-hand, and every one of them knew that it could always be their turn next. But good God. Mack? Mack was supposed to be indestructible. That girl could flit through a swarm with Clancy at her side as silently as a ghost and steer those bastards anywhere she damn well pleased. She was too quick for them. Too clever. Too wily. None of them were ever able to get close. Not once. Not ever. That is, not until…
With a heaviness in his heart that threatened to topple him to the ground, Mason looked into the future and saw only bleakness and despair. Once Mack was taken from them, he didn’t know how they would keep going. Mack wasn’t just the conscience of the group. She was the future. There were times when he could almost convince himself that they were all fighting for the group as a whole, but in reality, they were all fighting for one. Whether or not any of them knew it or would admit it, they were all fighting for her. For Mack. For that sweet girl who until now had been destined to inherit this shit-hole of a planet. They were fighting for a future they would never see, for that sweet little girl who had no choice but to live in it.
But now, that sweet little girl wouldn’t be inheriting the world after all. Oh, there was one slim chance in billions, he supposed, but it was far too remote to really consider possible. It was a chance that he didn’t dare speak out loud, for fear of the universe taking it away just to spite him. In his heart of hearts, he didn’t even truly believe it was a chance at all, but that same heart didn’t dare let him disbelieve. It was such a faint glimmer of hope that he couldn’t bring himself to share it with the others and make the inevitable even more crushing, so he busied himself with the things he could actually say out loud.
“Alright, gather up whatever containers you can find and start draining the pool. And we need food. Ally, take the kids and strip this place of everything you can find. Christopher, you and I are on watch.”
“Wait. Everything?” Richie weighed in. “Uh, isn’t Charles going to be a tad upset if we relieve him of his last can of Who hash?”
“Let him be,” came the stark answer. “We’re too far gone for niceties. We need food and water, so we’re taking it.”
The words sounded harsh even to Mason, but he knew something the others didn’t. He knew for a fact that Charlie wouldn’t so much as raise an eyebrow. They could take all of his food and all of his water, and all he would do is stand back and watch. And why? Because Charlie was a dead man walking. Not infected, not bitten, not blind, but a dead man all the same. If they had come across this place an hour later, it might have already been over.
The man was a coward. A weakling. He had given up long ago. Back in the first few days, probably. Maybe even before that. The pistol on the table wasn’t for protection, it was for escape. He hadn’t even had balls enough to pick it up and tuck it away before letting a group of strangers into his fortress of solitude. A man that weak would watch them take every scrap of food and every drop of water, and he wouldn’t raise a finger against them. And just as well. If that chicken so much as squawked, Mason wouldn’t just relieve him of his last can of hash, he’d relieve him of his goddam head.
Still, the order didn’t go down well with everyone.
“So that’s what we’re doing now?” Teddy piped up. “Stealing? Because this world isn’t screwed up enough?”
“We’re not stealing, we’re taking,” Mason told her, but it didn’t help the bitter pill go down any easier.
“Taking a man’s food and water,” Diego harumphed. “I guess that means we’re no longer scavengers. Now, we’re predators. We take, they starve. Awesome.”
“Chido!” Alejandra declared with a growl. “We take care of our own first. If someone’s got a problem with us taking what we need to survive, then they can fight for what was once theirs. That’s the law of the land, mijo. The way of the jungle. Survival of the fittest, and all that shit.”
“The fittest, or the meanest?” Diego was compelled to ask.
“Same diff,” Alejandra replied, stone-faced.
“I don’t know, Mace,” Becks spoke up. “Charlie invited us in. It seems wrong to repay his kindness with larceny.”
“He let us in because we were about to get in anyway,” Alejandra snorted. “He was saving his own ass.”
“Only for a while, it seems,” Becks harumphed. “It might be more merciful to just put a bullet in his head.”
“That can be arranged, bomboncita.”
Mason could see the other side of the argument, but he remained unmoved. They needed water, and they needed food. That was the simple truth of it. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and this group was already watching desperate disappear in the rearview mirror. So, they would take Charlie’s food, and they would take Charlie’s water, and they would take whatever else they damn-well pleased. It was that simple now. A harsh new reality was in place. Charlie had what they needed, and they would take it. Period. End of fucking story.
The door to the employee’s area swung open, and Mason had to hide a sneer as the man in question reappeared. But it faded quickly enough. With him out of sight, the image of the man had somehow twisted itself in Mason’s mind into the caricature of a cartoon villain, ready and willing to let the widow and her young child starve on the streets. But now, as Mason saw him again for the first time, he saw him as he had always been all along. A regular, ordinary man. Thin. Wiry. Nothing spectacular about him at all. He was just a man. An ordinary man with a less than ordinary appearance. And the fact was, he was helping Mack. Maybe not much, but he was doing what he could. So, what did that say about the man who was going to rob him blind and wring his scrawny chicken neck if he so much as squawked?
The answer made no difference. His people were on a precipice, and the ground was crumbling. It was that simple. Charlie had what they needed, and they would take it. Knowing his friends, he would be invited to come along with them, but chances were, he’d be too afraid to throw his lot in with a bunch of strangers. Either way, if he uttered so much as a peep about losing his supplies, Mason would remove that ordinary head from its less than ordinary shoulders.
CHAPTER
XII
“I don’t know, Mace,” Sarah hushed in the still quiet after emerging from the back room. “I just don’t know.”
The two came together as naturally as if they had known each other for a lifetime. And in a manner of speaking, they had. By whatever chemistry or alchemy or witchcraft, it was as if these two had always been destined to be together. Neither one of them said it, but they both believed it down to their very bones. They had been destined to be together, not as lovers or as brother and sister or even as friends, but as less than one, more than another, and far more than the simple word ‘friends’ could ever mean. They were fated to be together, and they would remain so for as long as they were allowed to draw breath. But as Mason clutched that incredible woman to his chest, he couldn’t help but wonder how long the trip would be without Mack along for the ride.
Another man might have offered her false platitudes. Another man might have patted her back and told her that it was all going to be okay. Another man might even have looked her stoically in the eyes and said that it was in God’s hands. But Mason was none of those men. He held Sarah tightly, he kissed her once on the forehead, and he said nothing. He merely held her. He held her tightly and warmly, and with every sniffle that came out of that blood-spattered, tear-stained face, he only held her that much closer.
He felt a hand on his shoulder and knew that Becks was with them. As always. Sweet, wonderful Becks. Whatever they were both going through, Becks was going through every bit of it with them. No animosity. No jealousy. No questions. Mason had declared them all friends, so friends they were. And the more shit they’d gone through since, the deeper the friendship had grown. After a few days together, fighting for every inch, Becks and Sarah were friends to the end. Sarah would kill for Becks, Becks would kill for Sarah, and Mason would strangle the life out of the entire goddam world for either of them.
For Mack, he would do even more. For Mack, he would rip off its head, suck out its eyeballs, and shit down its throat. And so would they all. She was their heart. She was their future. Without her, they would go on for a while, but why? For what? For how long? After all, how long could a thing survive without a heart?
Ah, but that was a trick question, wasn’t it? In this Bizarro-world, some things got along just fine without a heart. So maybe that was the answer, then. To keep on going without Mack, maybe all they had to do was turn off their minds and hearts and souls, and stumble blindly along until they fell entirely to pieces.
Addison emerged from the back room, looking decidedly grayer than usual. He plunked himself down in the wingback chair and put a shaky spoon to the can of peaches. No Clancy, though. But of course there wouldn’t be. That big, faithful mutt wouldn’t leave Mack’s side for all the kibble in the world.
No one asked Addison what they all so very much wanted to ask, and Addison offered nothing. He simply ate his peaches in silence and averted his red-rimmed eyes from everyone’s gaze. At last, he looked around the room and asked, idly, “Where’s Ally and the kids?”
“Right now, probably raiding the recycling bin for plastic bottles,” Richie told him.
“Ah, gotcha,” he nodded. “Well, I don’t mind a little chlorine in my drinking water. It’ll remind me of the times I used to go swimming as a kid, and the other guys would all take turns holding my head underwater. If you want to complete the picture, strip me naked and throw me in the girls’ change room.”
“They really did that?” Richie asked, aghast.
“Kid, I could tell you things that would give you nightmares.”
Richie screwed up his lips.
“Too late. I already pictured you naked.”
Addison became aware of Charles hovering at his side, so he started to rise, saying, “Oh, I’m sorry, Charlie. I’m in your chair,” but Charlie waved him back down.
“Nonsense. You need your rest. But I wonder if we wouldn’t be more comfortable in the staff lounge. There are couches there, and a few armchairs.”
Christopher shrugged him off with a casual, “Naw, we’re good.”
Whether it was his quick glance through the windows or some other tell, Charlie got the point.
“Oh. Uh… okay, then. Well, maybe we could bring some of those couches and chairs out here. You might get the odd spring poking you in the backside, but it beats sitting on the floor.”
With one last kiss on the forehead, Mason pulled himself away from Sarah, and as she and Becks pressed their foreheads together and commiserated in tones too hushed to be heard, he, Christopher and Richie followed Charlie into the back. Five minutes later, Addison’s wingback chair had been joined by a pair of long couches and three big armchairs. They placed them facing inward in a rough circle, but the arrangement wasn’t so they could sing Kumbaya around a campfire. It was to make sure they had an eye on every square inch of their surroundings.
