Stryker: A Post-Apocalyptic Tale (12 page)

“I can’t do this
anymore,” he whispered to himself. “I have to know for sure.” He got up and
showered, shaved for the first time in days, put on his battledress uniform,
and walked into the garage. He started the Jeep and backed out of his driveway,
then headed toward the hospital.

Stryker was
expecting to see corpses everywhere as he passed through the ghostly remains of
the base. The traffic lights still worked, and he saw the occasional body on a street
corner or slumped over the wheel of a parked car. He pulled into the parking
lot of the hospital still full of cars, then walked toward the main entrance of
the building.

As he approached,
he saw three concentric lines of death surrounding the building. He walked
through the first line and saw people who obviously died from gunshots. Their
bodies were riddled with bullet holes, and they had fallen in the direction of
the hospital. He passed through that circle and approached the second. This one
was comprised of fallen Marines who had no wounds on their bodies. But they all
lay in pools of what appeared to be their own blood. As he approached the third
line, he encountered corpses that were again gunshot victims. They had fallen
trying to leave the hospital. He remembered his last conversation with Jill and
saw a tale that told itself well. The Marines had remained true to their
orders: they shot anyone leaving or trying to enter the hospital and held their
positions until them, one by one, succumbed to the disease.

He walked to the
open entrance of the hospital and was assaulted by the coppery smell of blood
and rot. The air conditioning was still running, so it wasn’t unbearable; but
it bad enough. Covering his nose with one hand, he walked through corridors
lined with corpses lying on gurneys in hallways, and then entered what appeared
to be a morgue. After opening several sliding drawers in a concrete and steel
wall, he found Jill and Emma. Emma was wrapped in Jill’s arms and appeared to
be sleeping. Jill’s face was frozen in a rictus of pain.

He was numb with
grief, and in an odd way, relieved he had found their bodies. He had accepted
their death already and at least now could bury them properly. He went and got
his Jeep, backed it to the entrance, and rolled an empty gurney to the morgue.
Lifting them as one, he placed them on the gurney. After rolling the gurney to
the entrance, he loaded his loved ones into the rear of the Jeep, touching each
of their faces, and then drove home.

After digging a
single grave, he lowered them carefully into the ground and was about to fill
the grave. He hesitated. He couldn’t bring himself to throw dirt on their
faces, so he went inside and got a blanket that he placed over them carefully,
then refilled the grave. He went inside the garage and made two crude crosses
from leftover lumber, and drove them into the ground with a maul. He stood over
them, desperately wanting to pray, wanting to find peace with his god. He broke
down, fell to his knees, and sobbed and wailed for close to an hour. That
night, he heard a single gunshot from somewhere on the base, and concluded it
must have been some desperate survivor committing suicide.

He spent the next
few weeks sitting in a lawn chair at the foot of the grave, reading books and
eating meals from cans and pouches that he took from other houses. He also got
MREs from a logistics warehouse. Sometimes he read aloud to them, occasionally
having entire conversations about what they would do on the weekend, or
vacations that they never took. Part of him understood that he was making his
situation worse, not better, by allowing himself to slip into these reveries.
Another part understood that what he went through was of little importance when
faced with the massive die off that had occurred. The last news show he watched
had estimated the population of the world was reduced to two to three percent
of the previous population.

He walked around
the camp almost daily and witnessed the overgrowth of nature. Grass on lawns
remained unclipped and weeds sprouted everywhere, even in cracks in the
roadbeds. Hedges and bushes, once neatly maintained, grew shaggy and much
larger. Palm tree fronds drooped sadly in neat circles around the trees. It was
like watching one of those slow-motion nature videos of a flower opening, only
in reverse.

There were other
signs of abandonment. Many doors on housing units were left open due to the
haste of departures. Paper garbage danced merrily in many streets, apparently
from tipped-over garbage cans. Cars sat empty in the middle of the street. A
thin layer of dust covered everything.

Occasionally, he
turned on the TV or radio, but was met by empty air. He called every number in
his cell phones directory, and sometimes the phones would actually ring; but
nobody answered. So he kept the phone charged, but stopped trying to call
anyone. He started taking walks through the camp. One day, he left the house in
the morning and parked the Jeep next to the final hill of the Crucible course.
He looked up and imagined his class of
recruits
chugging down the hill with expressions of anguish and
grim determination etched on their faces.

Stryker walked to
the top of the hill and turned toward the city of San Diego. He could see fires
dotting the landscape and dark, billowing smoke ascending toward a bright sun.
He realized that he was no longer anything he was before. He had been a husband
to the most wonderful human being he ever knew. He loved her with a profound,
eternal love that would endure a lifetime and beyond. That she had been taken
from him was something he would never get over and wasn’t sure he wanted to
try. The hurt sometimes was the only thing that told him he was still alive.

He had been a
loving father and placed every hope he had for the future on his daughter. She
was a grudging composite of him and Jill, forged by their characters and
affection. Emma was the living symbol of their love for each other and their
future together. Now she was with her mother forever, and would live in his
memory until he died, always present but just out of reach.

He had been a
Marine, and more. He had been forged into a different man by the demands and
challenges he faced in combat, in training, and in upholding the Force Recon
creed with his every thought and action. It had helped get a fix on the
ever-blurry fissure between right and wrong, good and evil.

He was none of
those things now.

Stryker thought
about a conversation he had with Sarge following the Crucible, and how he had
told Sarge that he was “unbreakable.” He foolishly believed it at the time. He
knew better now. He looked again at the city and realized it wasn’t just him.
The whole world was broken. It was time for him to put himself back together.
He walked down the hill and went to the health club. It was open and lifted
weights for close to three hours.

The following three
months were spent getting into peak condition. He took two four-mile runs a day
and spent three hours daily in the weight room. He knew he was getting close to
the condition he was in prior to his second injury, but continued his daily
workouts. Hard muscle grew denser and his wind improved as time went on. The
runs got longer and the weights heavier. Still, he continued.

One day, he decided
to visit the cafeteria and armory. He was startled to find the lights on in the
former. The base power plants still ran, although he knew that couldn’t last
much longer. Eventually, something would break. He passed through the empty
mess area and walked to the kitchen. At the far end was a large walk-in
freezer. He entered the freezer and found a box of frozen steaks and unbaked
rolls. He carried them to the Jeep and proceeded to the armory.

Amazingly, it was
open. He took a ring of keys, each labeled with a warehouse number, and walked
through several of the warehouses before finding one that contained M-4s. He
took two of them with spare mags and loaded them into his vehicle. He returned
and grabbed three ammo cans of the 5.56X45mm ammo. Setting them down by the
Jeep, he returned and took four more cans. After loading everything, he
returned to his house and had a steak for dinner.

The following
morning, he decided to take a trip to San Diego and see what was left of the
city. He left his house with an M-4 on the passenger’s seat and drove down
Highway 5 to the freeway without seeing a soul. As he approached the city, what
had been a bad smell quickly grew into an unbearable stench. He got off at the
next exit and started back to his house.

Stryker noticed a
gun store on a corner and pulled over. He grabbed the M-4 and walked up to the
front door. It was locked from inside, so he got his tire iron and broke the
glass. Reaching though the now-empty frame, he turned the deadbolt and walked
to the glass countertop where the pistols were displayed. He brought the tire
iron down and plucked an XD from the display, grabbed extra mags and ammo
boxes, and left the store with the pistol in a paddle holster. He returned home
and continued his workout regime for another month.

Finally, it was
time to leave. Stryker knew he couldn’t spend the rest of his life working out
and reading books. He needed to go somewhere and start something new, so he sat
in his lawn chair and thought aloud about where to go and what to do. He tried
to remember his favorite places and thought of the ranch where his grandparents
raised him. He had been happy there. He last saw it when he returned for his
grandmother’s funeral. His grandfather had died three years earlier from a
stroke. His grandmother just gave up after that, according to a distant cousin,
Frank, who still lived in the area. The ranch was left to Stryker in the will,
and Frank agreed to keep the place up and bill Stryker for his time. Every
month he sent a paltry bill, and Jill paid it.

Stryker hadn’t
heard from Frank since the die off. He decided to leave the following day.

DIE OFF PLUS TWO YEARS

Sarge and Jenna
were loading the Jeep when Stryker came out of the house. He found a half-full,
freshly brewed pot of coffee when he walked into the kitchen, poured a cup, and
walked out the front door.

“Guess you’re
headed to San Antonio,” he said, sipping coffee before he spoke.

“Yeah, I’m going
with her,” Sarge replied.

“We probably should
have talked about that.”

“I don’t need
permission to go day-tripping.”

“Make sure you’re
not a one-way driver.” Both men chuckled at the reference to a Beatles song
from the ‘60s. “Seriously, you guys have a plan?”

“We reviewed the
route this morning and it seems pretty straightforward. I don’t think we’ll
have a problem getting to the house.”

“It’s good,
Stryker,” Jenna said. “I can go by myself, but Henry seems to think I need an
escort.”

“Henry?”

“That’s his name,”
she replied, pointing at Sarge.

“Yeah, Caleb,
that’s my name.”

“Did Erin tell you
my first name?”

“You’re a genius,”
Sarge replied.

“Jesus, I guess I
have to get up earlier or miss all the good stuff.”

“That would help,”
Sarge replied dryly.

“Henry, can I have
a private word with you?”

“Certainly, Caleb,”
he replied with lavish civility. The two men moved away from Jenna.

“You might want to
take Erin or Haley with you,” Stryker said.

“Why?”

“Because when she
sees her dead parents, you might want to have someone to comfort her and help
her get through the grief. Besides, you need another shooter in case you run
into trouble.”

“You’re right. But
it has to be Erin. She’s the better shooter and I know she’s tight with Jenna.”

“I’ll get her up
and out here.” Stryker moved toward the house and walked to the bedroom where
Erin slept. He heard the shower going as he passed through the door and sat on
the bed, waiting for her to come out. She emerged wearing a towel around her,
and gasped when she saw him sitting on the bed.

“Morning,” Stryker
said. “Get dressed and be ready to travel in ten minutes.” He got up and walked
out of the bedroom, filled his coffee cup, and walked back to the porch. Sarge
and Jenna were sitting there sipping their coffee and waiting for Erin.

“She’ll be ready in
ten,” Stryker said. Sarge just nodded. Jenna looked anxious, and was rubbing
her thumb and forefinger against one another in a ceaseless motion. Stryker
searched for some words of reassurance for a minute, and then gave up. There
was really nothing to say. Her parents were either dead or they weren’t.

“What are you guys
going to do today?” Sarge asked.

“Well, I guess the
ladies and I are going scavenging for more solar panels and batteries. What we
have won’t support the power and water we’ll need with more people. I’m pretty
sure there are at least a few ranches around here that have them, so we’ll take
a ladder, get the panels and batteries, and hopefully find an inverter. I have
the wiring we need, so if we have time I’ll mount the panels on the roof of the
house. Probably won’t get to the wiring until tomorrow.”

Erin came out a few
minutes later carrying an M-4 and wearing a holstered Glock. “Guess I’m riding
shotgun?” she asked.

“Yep,” Sarge
replied. “Let’s get moving.” They all walked to the Jeep Erin stole and got in.
“Why don’t you two ride in back, with Erin on the passenger side.”

“Works for me,”
Erin shrugged. Sarge set his carbine on the passenger’s seat and they pulled
out of the yard and onto the gravel road. They rode in silence until Sarge got
on Highway 83 and headed south toward San Antonio.

“How long will it
take to get there?” Erin asked.

“About two hours,”
Haley replied.

“Are you nervous?”

“More like scared.”

“That’s
understandable.” Erin looked out the window and saw more of the same desolate,
brown landscape she noted on their way to the ranch. It was still cool, but she
knew the temperature would soar shortly. They passed a red brick ranch house
surrounded on three sides by pecan trees. Windmills dotted the landscape and
the ribbon of highway they traveled over had telephone poles along the right
side. She thought about how they would live. What would they do with
themselves? How would they spend their time? She suddenly realized that, for
the first time in her life, there was no roadmap to consult. She had breezed
through life assuming she would go to high school, play sports, have a
boyfriend, and the rest. She had. Then she assumed she would go to college,
become a doctor, meet someone, and settle down and have kids. There would be
ski vacations and trips to Europe. Her kids would all be successful and she
would become a proud grandmother, growing gracefully old with the man of her
dreams. She suddenly felt tentative and uncertain. The fact that she did made
her apprehensive.

“Grandpa?”

“What, sugar?”

“What’s going to
happen to us? I mean, what are we going to do?”

“Stryker and I
talked about that yesterday and neither one of us have a clue.”

“What do you think
of him?”

“I think he’s the
hardest Marine I ever knew. That’s why I stopped to look for him.”

“I guess what I am
asking is do you think he’s a good person and trustworthy?” She was not
encouraged when Sarge took a minute to think about it.

“Well, he’s no show
pony. What you see is what you get. I think I would say you can count on him to
do what he thinks is right. You may not agree with what he thinks is right, but
he is a consistent man with very high standards.” He paused, then added, “You
know, I am old, but I’m not blind. I see how you two look at each other and all
I can say is follow your heart, but approach with caution. He’s the kind of man
who mates for life and I think he is still committed to his wife and daughter.
Until he can get by that, he won’t be able to commit to you.”

“I’m not certain I
want him to do that. He seems to want to do the right thing, but I don’t see
any affection in him. Don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful he helped us, but I
don’t feel obligated, either.”

“Well I do,” Jenna
said. When Erin looked startled, she added, “Did you forget I was here?”

“Of course not.”

“If it weren’t for
Henry and him, we’d still be in cages. Maybe in different cages, but still
cages. I can’t imagine how many men there are in the world that are willing to
risk their lives for people they don’t know, but that makes him an angel in my
book. If he was interested in me, I’d be on him like a rat on Cheetos.”

They all fell
silent, and Sarge grinned in the rear-view mirror at Erin. She looked back with
a puzzled expression.

“Nobody ever said
things were going to be easy,” he said.

“Nobody ever said
they would get this hard, either,” Erin answered, after glancing at Jenna. She
was sure she knew what was going to happen, and already felt her heart go out
to her friend.

Highway 83 turned
into Interstate 10, and the three continued south.

“We’re getting
close,” Jenna said, with a note of excitement. “Take the next exit, then turn
left.” Sarge looked around at the stop sign after coming to a halt, then
laughed at himself for stopping and turned left onto a secondary road. The
blacktop road whined under the tires of the Jeep. After a mile Jenna said,
“That’s our driveway on the right.” She was leaning over the front seat and
peering intently at a squat yellow house that sat on a mild elevation. Then she
saw a brightly painted white cross sitting between the house and a detached
garage, and her face fell.

“I’m sorry,” Erin
said, reaching to hug her. Sarge got out, brought his M-4 to the low ready, and
approached the house.

“That will be far
enough,” a man’s voice boomed. Sarge looked over and saw a tall man dressed in
cammo emerge from around the corner. He had an AR leveled at him and said, “Put
the weapon on the ground.”

“Dad!” Jenna
screamed, exploding out of the car and running toward him. The man stared in
disbelief as she approached, then his face split into a wide grin. He lowered
his weapon and ran toward her. They met with an explosive force, almost
knocking each other to the ground, and embraced in a fierce hug. Sarge saw her
ask a question. The man answered and the tears of joy turned bitter. Her knees
buckled but the man held her up. Sarge walked back to the car. Erin was
standing beside it, weeping silently.

He put his arm
around her and said, “at least she has someone.”

“I guess so,” Erin
replied.

“I wasn’t expecting
to do anything but go back to the ranch with her crying the whole way.” Sarge
looked up and saw them moving toward the grave. They both sank to their knees
and prayed for a few minutes, then her father stood and helped Jenna to her
feet. They walked over to the Jeep and the man extended his hand.

“Hank,” he said.
They shook hands

“I’m Sarge and this
is Erin.” Hank shook her hand.

“I have no idea how
you brought her back to me, but I am forever grateful.”

“You left your
weapon sitting in the dirt back there. You might want to go get it,” Sarge
growled. Erin looked at him in disbelief. Hank blinked a few times, thought it
over, and turned. When he retrieved his AR, he came back. Sarge examined the
man as he returned. He was tall, thin, and walked with an easy stride that
hinted at someone who worked for a living.

“I guess I let my
happiness get the best of me for a moment there.” Sarge just nodded. “So, what
happened? How did you bring her back here?”

“I guess we better
let her tell you that story. We came in at the end and all I know is she found
a way to stay alive for two years before we showed up.”

“Dad, can we at
least feed them before they go?” Jenna asked.

“Sure. I butchered
a cow last week and the garden is full of fresh vegetables, so we can put
something on the table.”

“You have fresh
meat?” Sarge asked.

“Well, yes.” Hank
looked confused at the question. “Cattle are everywhere around here. A lot of
the fences are down and they free-range feed. When you want a steak, you just
go shoot one and butcher it. You didn’t see them on the way here?”

“No.”

“Come in the
house,” Hank said. They walked through a modestly furnished home and then
stepped onto a back patio. Sarge was amazed to see cattle, chickens, and pigs
roaming around the back yard. He also saw what looked to be an acre garden,
entirely enclosed by framing and chicken wire. “I went next door the first week
of the plague and let the hogs and the chickens out. Figured the poor things
would starve to death. The cattle must have been in pasture somewhere and
decided to come home. They show up during the day and hang around here and then
head back to the ranch behind me every night,” Hank explained. “When I have to
slaughter one, I wait until they are gone, follow them, and shoot them off the
property.”

“How do you store
the meat?” Sarge asked.

“I have a wind
turbine that I use to power up my freezer for a few hours a day. That keeps it
frozen. I take some of it to the swap meet we have every Wednesday at the
school parking lot in town.”

“I don’t suppose
you have a ribeye or two lying around?”

“I got a freezer
half-full of them.”

“You got a grill?”

“You’re standing
next to it.”

“Okay, make me
happy before I die and tell me you got a shot of bourbon to drink after the
steaks.”

“I do.”

“We’re staying.
Maybe, forever,” Sarge said to Erin. She smiled and shrugged. Sarge and Erin
moved to the front porch and let Hank and Jenna prepare the meal.

Sarge groaned after
the first bite. The steak was perfectly done, red on the inside and surrounded
by fresh vegetables. The onions garnished the steak, and the tomatoes tasted of
the earth. They were rich and sweet, but with a deep, unknowable flavor that
gave them a tang. He wolfed down his steak and watched the others do the same.
Sarge pushed his plate away and folded his hands over his stomach. He waited
for the rest to finish, then said, “Bourbon?”

Hank laughed and
moved to a cabinet where he pulled down a bottle of Makers Mark and four
glasses. “Let’s go sit on the porch and have our drinks. Jenna and I will clean
up and join you.”

“Hell, I’ll follow
you anywhere,” Sarge replied. He and Erin moved to the front porch and settled
into patio chairs.

“Damn, that was a
fine meal,” Erin said.

“Outstanding in
every way,” Sarge agreed.

“We’re heading back
after the bourbon?”