Better Lucky than Good (Records of the Resistance) (25 page)

The disappointment in this new information must have been evident on the face of Clay and Lavigne was quick to continue.

"We aren't here as liberators. We've been assigned to locate a horde which has been moving through this area. This platoon here was tasked with strong holding the bridge ahead and if the horde could not be contained, they were ordered to blow the bridge to prevent it's crossing. When the horde was spotted outside the perimeter of the city, we were sent to find it's exact whereabouts. That's about the time we found this lost platoon, as well as your people." said Lavigne, elaborating on the reasoning behind their presence.

"With all of that being said, we still have an ongoing secondary mission..." he continued.

"The endgame is to preserve the existence of humanity. Something you have done an admiral job of thus far. Our presence is of a non combative nature, so I don't see any harm in lending a hand where we can. I can't forgo our mission to locate the horde but given that our tasking is merely to observe, I'm willing to lend you our medic and engineer for the time being. We'll be passing by your operation to get back to our own, after we locate the horde. We're going to be blowing the bridge and then getting back to our assignment, which should give you at least a day or two to tend your wounded and further fortify your position." continued the Captain.

"Thank you, Sir." replied Clay, regaining his mental grasp over his composure. Should he appear to lose his control, the good Captain may just change his mind to avoid putting at risk the hands he had promised to lend.

"In addition... I see no need, nor would it be feasible to collect all of this equipment. It would only impede our own mission's progress and we lack the manpower to utilize it anyway. The G-Wagens are in serviceable condition and ready to travel." Lavigne added, further sweetening the pot.

Clay felt a brief reprieve from his leadership role, taking orders for a change instead of giving them. He took solace in this new development, learning that there is a bigger picture. That their ragtag group wasn't alone.

"Smith, O'Conner, upfront." commanded Lavigne.
 

Immediately upon the order’s issue, two soldiers broke rank from their comrades and joined Clay and Lavigne.

"Corporal Smith, my medic. Sapper O'Conner, my engineer." spoke Lavigne, pointing to each man in turn as he introduced them.
 

"You two will accompany Clay and his people back to their home. Assist them in anyway you can. Treat him as you would an officer, provided what you're asked does not compromise yourselves or our current mission in any way. We'll maintain radio contact with you as our mission progresses and inform you of your pick up when we are finished here. Understood?" Lavigne spoke commandingly.

"Seen, Sir." both the men replied in unison.
 

It quickly dawned on Clay that it was by no coincidence that these men survived the outbreak. They were a well oiled machine. It was clear that not only did Smith and O'Conner respect Lavigne, but Lavigne respected them in return. They all had roles to play on the field and each did so in an exemplary fashion. Clay found it somewhat inspiring.

"Corporal, I have a bus full of people that could use your help. You'll find Melanie behind the wheel of the bus. She'll instruct you further from there." Clay said to Corporal Smith, who nodded in response and took off towards the bus.

"Sapper O'Conner, can you man that C6 on the G-Wagen if I put Tim behind the wheel?" asked Clay, eliciting a positive nod from O’Conner in response

Clay motioned to Tim with a wave of his hand. Tim and Jamie had been within earshot of the conversation between Clay and Captain Lavigne. Tim grabbed his gear and moved towards the G-Wagen.

"Jamie, how do you feel about driving me home?" Clay asked, having to speak up over the farewells being shared by the soldiers.

"You know how to operate that gun?" asked Lavigne, regarding the heavy machine gun mounted to the G-Wagen's turret.

"I served. It was a long time ago.... But I can handle it." Clay replied as he looked on at the heavy weapon.

"That explains a lot. Get moving, Clay. You know as well as I do, that it's unwise to linger in the open for too long." the Captain's tone was calm and collected, sounding much like Clay's.

"Thank you again, Sir." Clay turned his head back to Lavigne and outstretched his hand.

Lavigne grasped it firmly in response.

"Take care of my men, Clay." he said as he shook Clay's hand.

"As if they were my own, Sir." was the first response that came to Clay's mind.

"Then they'll be just fine." Lavigne replied with a confident grin.

*****

Melanie hadn't been privy to the conversation on the road, but had guessed the result had been favourable as they had been motoring towards home for hours. When Corporal Smith had initially boarded the bus, he had made an attempt to tend to Mel before any of the others. She had quickly dismissed the idea, urging him to help the passengers. It wasn't out of some new found nobility. But more so out of anxiety and confusion caused by the absence of Clay. Anxiety and confusion that worsened as Clay's G-Wagen moved to the front of their column and began to lead them on the long trek home.
 

Why was he not here with her? Why had he chosen to ride with Jamie instead? Was he disappointed with her in the manner by which the events inside his former home had transpired? Had his opinion of her changed after seeing her defeat at the hands of Brooke? Was he devastated by the loss of Brooke? Or was he mad that she had dispatched his crazy, undead, cheating, bitch of a girlfriend and ultimately saved his life, and the lives of everyone currently in the bus?
 

For now, all she could do was watch him from her seat behind the wheel of the bus while a man who was unknown to her walked up and down the aisle, assisting the sickly. His actions were admirable, but he was no Clay. Her mind raced in this fashion throughout their journey home. She watched Clay as much as she watched the road. He stood casually in the turret of the vehicle in front of her. He had donned one of the camouflaged Tac Vests which had been recovered from the site of the lost platoon, which contrasted starkly against his civilian clothing worn underneath it. Clay now sported a full beard. He had by no means come into her life clean shaven, but now his facial hair had come into it's fullness. A fullness which had left Clay frequently scratching at his neck. He wore no hat, but had folded a blue bandana into an improvised headband; its knot centred perfectly on the back of his head. On his face he wore a pair of sunglasses bearing the description of those commonly worn by athletes; their arms tucked securely in his bandana. Whether she liked it or not, the world was very different now. Where many had failed and fallen, a man stood before her who had thrived. What was going through the mind of a man like Clay? What was he thinking right now?

*****

Clay slapped the roof of the transport hard with the palm of his hand. Bending over slightly to allow himself a view of Jamie in the driver's seat, he had to yell over the noise of wind and road.

"Well done, Jamie! Almost home." Clay shouted.

Jamie offered a thumbs-up over his shoulder in response. He was tired and ready to be home. Having to yell back at Clay just seemed like too much effort.

Clay returned to watching the sides of the road for any sign of movement. He had tirelessly kept watch throughout the duration of their return trip. He kept watch over almost a full three-hundred and sixty degree view around him, save for directly behind him. In that direction, it pained him to look. The bruised and swollen face of Melanie haunted him. It chased him down the road at high speed, backed by seven tons of steel. Clay was confused by his sudden attachment to Mel. Or was it the sudden realization and recognition of his affection? Had he suppressed his affection for Melanie out of guilt? Because of Brooke? Or was this just some kind of reaction to the stress brought on by their new circumstances? Regardless of the truth behind his feelings, he had failed Mel. She had almost died because of his failure.
 

On the horizon, Clay could see the trees that were lining the edge of the road break, and the openness of the town coming into view before him. Clay squatted down into the confines of the vehicle, where Jamie already had the radio at the ready.

Clay's voice squawked through the battered bus. The soldier who had been caring for the wounded had brought with him a radio to maintain contact with the other vehicles. They had been on the road for hours and this was the first time Melanie had heard his voice.

"Almost in town. Everyone keep your eyes peeled for infected. We haven't lost anyone yet, and I don't plan on starting now." was all Clay said.

The convoy sped through the city's main street, infected rearing their necrotic heads in the distance. Melanie watched Clay, as he expertly spun the turret to face every called out location of undead.

Melanie could see the structure of the store forming ahead of Clay's silhouette. The sun was setting ahead of her, bathing the streets in a beautifully macabre glow. The town was in ruins. She hadn't noticed on the drive out, mainly due to their travel being done in complete darkness.

"Wait..." Melanie asked out loud, more to herself than to anyone else. "What the hell are we going to do when we get there?"

*****

There must have been a lookout waiting for their return. The main entrance of the massive building was lined with people. Clay's people.

The bus' brakes squealed as Melanie applied them. The moment the vehicle came to a halt, organized chaos ensued. She could here Clay issuing instructions to everyone awaiting their arrival. People were filtering in and out of the bus, assisting the new arrivals while Corporal Smith gave further instructions. Melanie watched as Jamie exited the vehicle in front of her, dragging heavy bags of equipment into the safety of their improvised home. Everyone was so busy... And she... She was so tired. Melanie raised her gaze from her hands which continued to grip the steering wheel, only to see Clay staring at her from his position in the G-Wagen's turret.

"We made it, Mel... We're home." Clay said.

It took a moment for Mel to respond. The significance of the days events had finally hit her. The church, Brooke, the little boy... Melanie finally released her grip on the steering wheel.

"Yah. Yah, we did..." she replied quietly, forcing a weak smile.
 

*****

Kevin had made remarkable progress in his absence. Clay was presently standing in a janitor’s closet, which had been converted into a shower. The transformation was actually quite remarkable.
 

Clay looked down at his newly acquired equipment as he rolled up the sleeves of his fresh flannel shirt. The shower was hardly the only remarkable transformation. His old shotgun had been replaced with a modified C8 rifle. The old shell belt that accompanied his shotgun had been replaced by a Tac Vest. The only previous equipment that remained were his tomahawk and brass knuckles. Not in a thousand years would he lay them down, to never be picked up again.

Clay threw his new Tac Vest over his head and picked up his rifle, purposely neglecting to fasten the armour. Clay surveyed the interior of the store. He was surrounded by amazing people. Little rooms had been constructed out of the lumber and plywood which had been recovered the day before. Their construction was simple yet effective. Four walls and a roof, with only a mattress, some linens, and a few coat hooks on the wall. Clay could see Corporal Smith standing in a makeshift medical ward, with beds to his front and back. It was late and the interior was devoid of any light, save for that spilling out from the inside of the little huts whose occupants were still awake. That and the single light which was currently being used by Smith. There he stood, stethoscope around his neck and clipboard in hand. The Corporal looked up from his work, alerted to Clay's presence by his movement towards the huts.
 

Clay stopped in his tracks, unsure of how he should react. Surprisingly it was Smith who moved first. Offering a nod and a half smile. The gesture said a lot to Clay. It said... You're doing it. You're getting the job done. Clay smiled in return and began walking to the hut which he had been informed was his own.
 

Clay was startled by the sight of Melanie sitting on what he thought to be his bed.

"Mel, I'm sorry... I thought this was..." Clay spoke, leaving his sentence to go unfinished while he craned his head back through the door way.

"Your room? It is..." Melanie said as she rose to her feet.

"Well, um... I'm not sure..." he began to reply nervously.

"No, no Clay, not that. It's just... This is really awkward and I'm sorry." she stammered, suddenly becoming extremely embarrassed.

"Alright, calm down Mel." Clay replied, stepping into the room and gently closing the door behind him.
 

"I think we've survived enough together that by now you should know that you can say just about anything to me. Hell, you've never held anything back before, so why start now?" his voice was calming and effectively diffused the tension that hung thickly in the small room.

"I feel safe... With you, I mean. Not because of some desire for a knight in shining armour, but because when you're around, you... Make me stronger." she replied, explaining her thoughts to herself as much as she was to Clay.