Better Lucky than Good (Records of the Resistance) (9 page)

"Know what?" Melanie replied.

Kevin laughed.

"Well... This is the first time since the outbreak that I've actually been able to deliver good news. There is still power." Kevin said with a smile.

"Bullshit. We didn't have power at the last place I was staying." Melanie argued.

"It's not everywhere. Wow, where have you guys been living during the last month?" Kevin said sarcastically.

Clay and Melanie looked at one another and smiled.

"The military has control of the power plants. They needed to keep the reactors operating, or we would not only have infected wandering the streets but also radioactive fall out." Kevin explained.

"Key buildings, such as factories, or any place that could store supplies, all still have power. The power plants aren't running at full capacity though and something had to go. Residential was of low priority. They figured that most people would congregate around large defensible structures." Kevin continued.

"The military... Or what's left of it, is still fighting. They've been trying to keep everyone up to date. They don't have the man power to relocate everyone to safe zones though. Mainly because there are no safe zones anywhere to be found, and they're focused primarily on the need to defend some of the key installations they've routed hydro to." he finished.

"They're keeping everyone up to date? How? Do you have a radio or something here?" Clay asked.

"No, no. I haven't actually seen any military personnel since the outbreak. They're using email. They sent out a mass email to every known address they could get their hands on. Everyone who replied, essentially got added to the 'survivors of the end of the world' mailing list." Kevin replied, apparently having a good sense of humour, given his situation.

"Email?" Mel asked, looking to Clay. "Is this even possible?"

"Very possible. Not all the satellites are working though. Where we are right now, we only get about a five minute window to send and receive messages and the signal is very weak. The messages have to be short. Like a text message." Kevin answered.

Clay was silent and staring off into the distance. It was obvious to Mel that he was deep in thought about something in particular. She stood quietly and waited for his response to Kevin's explanation.

"Have you heard from anyone in the big city?" Clay asked distantly.
 

"The big city? No way, man. That place is a dead zone. They estimated that over ninety-nine percent of the population was infected. Like... Survivors numbering in the decimals. The local military here is going nuts about the potential horde that could come crawling out of there." Kevin answered.

The trio fell silent again. Clay couldn't avoid thinking about home and about Brooke. He was still in no position to reach her, but the new hope of opening a line of communication with her provided some solace. Clay still felt largely disappointed in himself for not making an attempt to reach her sooner.
 

"Clay? What's the matter?" Melanie asked.

She could tell by the look on his face that whatever he had been thinking about was deeply troubling to him. The possibilities were too numerous for her to guess at what might be occupying the mind of Clay.
 

"Nothing... It's fine." Clay replied.

It wasn't fine. It wasn't even close to being fine. He knew that the chances of Brooke surviving were slim, if at all. Up until now he had just simply been trying to get a handle on his situation. However, the time was fast approaching when he would need to see for himself if she lived. If she had, then he needed to get her the hell out of there. Clay felt an anguishing amount of guilt for not making an attempt to reach her earlier. But circumstances had not allowed for it and if had he of tried, he certainly would have failed. Clay was not equipped to make an attempt to locate Brooke. At least, until now.

"There's still people in town you know." Kevin said, his voice drawing Clay back to reality.

"The farm house burned to the ground a few days ago. No one survived." Melanie answered.

"Farm house? There was a second group? Shit..." Kevin said, sounding apologetic.
 

"But they aren't who I'm talking about. There's a whole bunch of people trapped in a three story walk up, about two blocks from here." Kevin continued.

"How do you know?" Mel asked.

"Email... My wife and son are stuck in the building. There are infected crowding the exits and they're trapped..." Kevin's voice turned somber.

The three remained quiet for a moment, contemplating the revelation in silence. What would be the point of planning and attempting the rescue of Brooke, if there was no where for them to return should he find success, Clay wondered. Where would they go? According to Kevin, the big city was no where near inhabitable, and the odds of long term survival would only increase with the strength of their numbers.
 

"We're going to get them out of there and bring them back here. They can't wait for the military." he said.

"What? Clay... I get it. I'm not trying to sound like a total bitch here, but how the hell are the three of us going to rescue an entire apartment building?" Mel asked. She was incredulous at the suggestion.

"Kevin, have they given you even a slight indication as to how many infected are there?" Clay asked.

"Yah. My wife guessed about seventy-five at the front door and around ten at the back. But the number has been increasing daily." he answered.

"Mel, I know this sounds crazy... But we need people if we're going to survive. We can't run like we have been, for the rest of our lives. The military is working to take back their areas of operation and our best chance of survival hinges on us doing the same." Clay explained.

"This department store is secure, easily defendable, has supplies and by using the railroad tracks we can conceal our movements through town." Clay continued.

Mel didn't know what to say at first. She was happy that she was alive, but wasn't entirely thrilled with the concept of endangering that. On one hand, they could choose to stay out of trouble and leave those people to sort their situation out themselves. On the other hand they could give this rescue their best shot. Had Clay ignored her pleas only a few days ago, she would have certainly been horribly killed by the infected. Instead, Clay had chosen to help her and as a result, she is alive and learning to adjust to their new situation. Why should she not pay forward that which Clay had done for her?

"Okay, Clay." is all that Mel said.

For the first time since he had spoken with his wife post-outbreak, Kevin began to feel a glimmer of hope that he may someday see his family again. Up until this moment, his circumstance had felt to him like it were a cruel joke. Although his wife and son had survived the outbreak and subsequent onslaught, they were unable to reach one another. Only through messages, which were far too short to communicate anything of worth to one another, would they know if the other had lasted the night. Every passing day was a torturous experience, hoping to hear from one another. Now however, a man stood before him whom Kevin had just met only a few minutes prior, and was intent on prying his family from what would likely become their tomb.

"Okay... So... What's the plan?" Kevin asked hesitantly, attempting to subdue his excitement.

"Well, I doubt that they're armed..." Clay started, but was quickly cut off by Kevin.

"Oh no... They're armed to the teeth. A guy that used to live in the building was a real paranoid nut. It's like the guy was preparing for just this occasion. Unfortunately, he was infected and never lived to see it." Kevin said.

"So what's stopping them from just shooting their way out and making a break for our location? You said that there are only ten or so infected barring the back door. It should be easy." Melanie inquired.

"The problem isn't a lack of arms. It's a lack of able bodied users. Most of the survivors in that building are women, children and a few elderly folks. There are only a few who are capable of fighting and no where near enough to assist the others in getting here. I suggested your plan to them a few days ago and they all agreed that no one was being left behind for the undead." Kevin answered.
 

"And the back door leads to a stair well that has been pretty substantially barricaded. An able bodied person would find it difficult to climb those stairs with all the debris they've piled down them." he continued.

"Email them. Tell them to pack up everything of value. Stress to them, that the entire contents of those gun lockers are top priority. Search that man's apartment and anything that even remotely looks like it has anything to do with a firearm gets packed up. Tell them that tomorrow morning, we're coming to get them out and that they need to be ready." Clay instructed to Kevin.

"We're only going to have one shot at getting this right and we'll need to be quick about it. Getting those people out of there is going to be a loud affair and it won't be long before we draw more infected to the building. We won't be able to go back anytime soon, after we leave." Clay finished.

The relief and gratitude that Kevin felt was written all over his face.

"... Thank you. Thank you both..." Kevin's voice shuttered.

"Now... We don't have much time. I need some things from the hardware department. A drill press, some two inch pipe nipples and enough caps to seal both ends... Oh and some cotton twine." Clay said.

Kevin and Melanie nodded and immediately left to begin their search for the items that Clay had listed. The moment the two had departed, Clay walked to his dry bag and began rifling through it. He was searching for his cell phone. Clay had considered leaving it behind at their island camp, believing that he would never use it again. He wasn't certain why he had kept it, but instead of throwing it away he had tucked it deep into the bottom of his pack. He held the power button impatiently, as if pressing it harder would make the tiny machine turn on faster. Clay began quickly scrolling through several of his phone's pages, until finally reaching the icon required to access his email. He instantly began to feel anxious, fearful and regretful that he had not made an attempt to contact or reach Brooke sooner than now.
 

Clay sat himself down on the floor next to his pack with his back against the bed. He was terrified at the prospect of what his inbox might hold. Time began to pass by while he stared at the cellular phone's display, without Clay even noticing. Finally he stretched his thumb out and tapped the inbox icon.

...

Nothing.

His inbox was empty, save for the email that Kevin had described which had been sent by the operating military forces responsible for defending the region.

Clay's thoughts were quickly spinning out of his control. Was Brooke dead? Had she not tried to communicate with him because she wasn't aware that she could? Was she suffering? What if he had chosen to head straight home, instead of helping these people? Would she still be alive, then? Clay began to lose all sense of time.

"Clay?" Melanie asked, having returned with a shopping cart containing the items he had requested.

Clay continued to stare at his phone, providing her with no response.

"Clay? ... You okay?" Melanie asked again.

Melanie saw the cell phone and couldn't resist the urge to wonder who Clay was hoping to get in contact with. The two had never revealed much about their lives before the outbreak to one another.

"Hello? Earth to Clay..." she prodded.

"Oh, sorry Mel. Yeah, I'm still here." he chuckled falsely, while finding her with his eyes.

Clay stuffed his phone back into his dry bag and rose to his feet. Wandering towards Melanie, while suddenly becoming eager to inspect the contents of her shopping cart.

"Nice work. That'll do just fine." Clay said after glancing at the inventory.
 

He picked up one of the pipe nipples and began examining it more closely while holding it in his hand.

"Clay, what are you making?" Melanie asked, as Kevin pulled up with a drill press standing upright on a flatbed cart.

"Hand grenades. Well... Hand grenades circa the eighteenth century. But it's the best I can do in a hurry." Clay answered, looking over at the drill press Kevin had brought along.
 

"How the hell do you plan on making hand grenades?" Kevin asked.

"Mel, in my dry bag is a square red can. Can you grab it?" Clay asked.

Melanie nodded and began her search while Clay and Kevin moved the drill press to a support column close by. The press was the sort that you would see in the garage of a handy man, or do-it-yourselfer. It wasn't industrial grade, but it would certainly get the job done.
 

Melanie had retrieved the red can from Clay's pack and handed it over to him.

"That's the one. Thanks." Clay said, taking the tin from Mel.

"Okay. Now what?" Kevin asked, a little out of breath from moving the heavy drill press into position.

"This contains roughly one pound of black powder. It's a primitive gun powder. There were boxes of these at the outfitter's shop that Melanie and I had checked out. It's pretty awkward to carry, so I only grabbed a single can." Clay began.