In Memoriam Page 6

  Then, the world is silent once more.

  Entangled with Jill, we freeze when six, heavily armed, masked individuals rush our way. They surround us in a practiced maneuver, three of them turning around to keep watch. One of them steps forward and reaches up to her head while the last two train their weapons on us. My thoughts return to the female voice we heard in the museum. Removing her helmet, I’m stunned by who I see.

  “Andy?” I ask. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  9

  The last time I saw the strawberry-blonde, freckle-faced Andrea “Andy” Daniel was a few weeks ago back in Chattanooga. She was a member of the Chattanooga Police Department (CPD), working directly under her brother, Tyson Daniel. One night, we went on a little side mission together to save Tyson’s son inside the local zoo.

  “Why aren’t you back in Chattanooga?” I ask, helping Jill to her feet.

  “Good to see you too, Frank,” Andy says, nodding her chin at us.

  One of her men come over to us and produces a key. He quickly releases us from our bonds with a few flicks of his wrist. My wrists are sore as hell, and I find myself rubbing them like they do in the movies.

  “Why are you here?” Jill asks. “I thought you had a city to protect?”

  “We save them, and this is the thanks we get?” Andy laughs and looks back at a couple of her people. But Jill and I aren’t in on the joke. If Andy is here, then…

  “What happened?” I ask.

  Her face sours. “There was, uh, an incident back home.”

  “What kind of incident?” Jill asks, glancing at me.

  “Someone killed my brother.”

  Shit.

  I rub my forehead in disbelief and anger, and sadness too. Tyson was a good guy—a little wound up—but a good guy. His wife and daughter died at the hands of the burner virus, and Tyson himself was forced to put them out of their misery. It was precisely what Jill had to do to her parents.

  “Who?” I ask, feeling terrible for not initially being happier to see her.

  “A woman by the name of Casey Farrell. She’s a real psychopath—a serial arsonist we locked up years before shit hit the fan. She thinks Abaddon brought the burners to Earth as a cure or something—a symbol of freedom from above. She literally worships the cleansing ability of fire.”

  “She sounds lovely,” Jill mutters.

  From above? I looked up at the museum’s front door. Makes sense that she’d pick a place like this to hole up.

  “She’s here—in Gatlinburg?” I ask, reflexively looking around. I haven’t stood in one spot outdoors this long for a while. I’m used to regularly checking my immediate surroundings.

  “We think so,” Andy replies. “We tracked her gang here before meeting resistance to the south of the city.”

  The same way we came, I think, recalling the drive in.

  We entered through the national park, taking the scenic route into a fireball of a town. Gatlinburg was burning from multiple burner attacks. It was hell on earth, hence why we decided to settle to the north a bit.

  “So, you’re on a manhunt?” I ask, still not putting it all together.

  Why in the world would Andy come all this way to find someone who killed her brother. She isn’t the vengeful type, nor is she a person that would up and leave her duties back home in Chattanooga.

  Andy’s shoulders fell. “She has TJ.”

  “What?” I ask, stunned.

  She nods, then shrugs. “Well, we think she does.” She explains. “During a firefight, Tyson was injured, and TJ went to check on him. Only…it was too late.” She sniffs back tears. “I saw what Farrell did to my brother, Frank. I saw her pull the trigger point-fucking-blank.”

  “What about your nephew?” Jill asks softly.

  “One of her goons clubbed him from behind and tossed him in the back of her truck.”

  “And your team here?” I ask, motioning to the five other officers. It’s only now that I see that they’re wearing police issue tactical gear.

  “Volunteers to bring TJ home… Not that there’s much to go home too. Chattanooga is gone, Frank. At least, the part we still controlled. Each of us is here for the long haul—with nothing waiting for us if we don’t make it back.”

  I scratch my head. “I’m sorry, Andy. I really am.”

  Tears fill her eyes, and she shrugs. “Not like I didn’t want to leave anyway. Still…”

  “We’ll help you, Andy,” I say, without another thought.

  Jill squeezes my hand, silently backing me up. She knows the danger we are putting ourselves in, but she also knows that Andy would’ve have done the same thing for us if it were Hope missing. Plus, we owe her a lot. She came through for us in Chattanooga by keeping her promise to free us and convinced Tyson to let us go after I helped her.

  “Just the two of you?” Andy asks.

  I shake my head. “My folks were keeping an eye on Hope while we came to town.”

  She smiles. “Nice to see you guys are doing well.”

  We don’t mention the fact that we lost Jill’s parents as soon as we arrived. It won’t do Andy any good to know, and it doesn’t help us with our next mission. I’m surprised she hasn’t asked Jill about her face.

  “So,” I say, pointing at the museum doors, “about our stuff.”

  Andy’s right eyebrow raises. “What stuff?”

  * * *

  Andy sends four of her men into the museum to have a look around, led by her number two, Cooper Stills. We join her back inside one of their three Yukons. They’re a mirror image of the one we used to have. Andy’s the one that gave it to us, after all. It was her way of thanking me for my help in retrieving her nephew from the Chattanooga Zoo.

  Another one bites the dust.

  Come to think of it… Man, I’m terrible with motor vehicles.

  First, the Coast Guard cutter. The next to go was Winnie the Winnebago. Then, the yellow Jeep with the lift kit. Lost that back near the Georgia border. I kind of thought the CPD SUV would’ve lasted a little longer, but c’est la vie.

  A radio crackles to life.

  “Uh, Andy,” someone says, “what are we looking for again?”

  In the front passenger seat, she turns around, rolls her eyes, and hands me her two-way radio’s corded microphone.

  “This is Frank Moon,” I say, feeling stupid. Who else would it be? “There should be two Glocks, two sheathed knives, a bow and a quiver of arrows, and a baseball bat.”

  Silence.

  Cooper, the man on the other end of the call, finally replies, confused. “Uh, did you say a bow, arrows, and a bat?”

  Andy smiles wide, amused by the back-and-forth.

  I sigh. “Yes, I did.” I check my jacket pocket. “My badge and a hand-drawn map of Gatlinburg too!”

  “Oookay… Roger that,” he replies. “We’ll let you know what we find. Cooper out.”

  I hand the mic back to Andy, nodding my thanks.

  “How are you using those without being able to charge them?” I ask.

  Andy unclips her radio from her back and slides open the battery housing. Inside, is a nine-volt battery, not a rechargeable lithium battery.

  “Found these and collected as many nine-volts as possible.”

  “Good thinking,” I say, impressed.

  “Farrell wouldn’t happen to be a cannibal, would she?” Jill asks, getting down to business.

  Andy looks at me like I’m joking, then returns her attention to Jill. “No, why?”

  Jill looks out her window. “Oh, no reason…”

  The Yukon isn’t running, which should keep our presence hidden. The parking lot reeks of smoke and gasoline too. We’re all but invisible to anything inhuman poking around the area. The only thing that is bound to find us if we stay here long enough is more people.

  “Farrell was here…” Andy says in a far-off voice. I gave her the highlight reel of our escape, including the mysterious woman we heard earlier. “The voice you described is
definitely hers.”

  “It could’ve been her,” Jill replies. “I was facing the wrong way, and Frank has a bag on his head.” Both of the ladies break out with similar expressions on their face. Apparently, they think it's hilarious that I had a sac over my head. Both are trying not to laugh. Jill clears her throat and continues. “We didn’t actually see her, uh, face.”

  “Good, God!” someone yells over the radio. “I… I…” Then, whoever it is, vomits live on the radio.

  Andy looks from her shoulder-clipped mic to me. “Cannibals, huh?”

  She gets down to business. “Okay, once we get your gear, I’ll supply you with what I can. I have a couple of spare Kevlar vests and some extra ammo. Still have the guns I gave you?” I nod. “Good… Not much else, I’m afraid. We’ve been on the road for a few weeks and haven’t had the chance to re-up yet.”

  “When did she hit Chattanooga?” I ask.

  “Not long after you guys left. A few days tops.”

  “And after all this time, you expect TJ to be alive?”

  She laughs, but not in a humorous way. She’s exhausted and barely keeping it together. “What else can I do but hope at this point? Either way, I’d kind of like to see that bitch put in the ground for what she did to my brother.”

  Like Jill, Andy's loss of a loved one has changed her. She’s hardened some, not that I know the woman all that well. We only spent a couple of hours together, but I feel like she used to be a little more light-hearted and cheerful than this. The arsonist, this Farrell person, has done a number on Andy’s psyche—her heart too.

  I sit back and relax. “Well, if we don’t take her out, one of the creatures is bound to. At least we have that.”

  Andy tilts her head to the right, angling her mouth toward the two-way’s mic on her shoulder. She depresses the ‘push-to-talk’ button and speaks. “Any luck?”

  “Ugh, yes, unfortunately,” Cooper replies. “We have the Moons’ things, snagged some other supplies as well.”

  “Any resistance?” Andy asks.

  “None so far. Looks like there weren’t many people staying here.”

  My eyebrows drop, and my eyes squint. My questioning look must be enough for Andy to ask the question I’m thinking.

  “How do you know?”

  “Jack found a couple of makeshift bunks in one of the other rooms—sleeping bags and food rations. Enough for two people.”

  “The Conrads?” Andy asks.

  “That’d be my guess.”

  Andy mimics my thinking face before she speaks again.

  “Okay, Cooper, give the place one more quick look-see and then meet us out front.”

  “Will do. See you soon.”

  “Who are the Conrads?” Jill asks.

  Andy points to one of the gunmen. “Those two were Lucas and Gerald Conrad. We ran into them while looking for Farrell. I guess she recruited them into her, um, gang, for the lack of a better word.”

  “Who were they?” I ask, not that it matters much now.

  “We don’t know a ton about them, but the locals to the west of here say they were a strange family. There used to be eight of them—all brothers and sisters living together on one large piece of land.”

  “Eight?” Jill asks. “What happened to the rest of them?”

  Andy glances away from us. She looks uncomfortable with what she’s about to say next. “We found most of the siblings nailed to crosses in their family’s barn.”

  My stomach lurches. “Sounds familiar.”

  “My best guess is that Lucas and Gerald went nuts and killed them all.”

  “And the behavior they displayed in the museum—the people eating, I mean.”

  Andy shrugs. “No clue, we didn’t investigate the scene long enough to see if they had a bite to eat too, or not.”

  We sit in silence for a few minutes. The inside temperature of the SUV is warm and comfortable. It makes me want to kick back and catch some Zs. Sometimes, all you need is to get out of the cold to feel a hundred times better.

  Could still use a beer…

  “How many of them are there?” I ask, speaking up first. “In Farrell’s crew, I mean.”

  “Originally, Farrell had a group of about six or seven people. But we’ve also seen it grow to twelve and shrink to four. All in a matter of weeks.”

  Jill leans forward on her knees. “Why such a fluctuation?”

  I watch as Andy’s eyes linger on my wife’s face for a second too long. Jill sits back and crosses her arms. Realizing what she’s doing, Andy looks the other way and blushes, embarrassed. She quickly explains, glancing my way as she does. Oh, right… I forgot that she has no idea what happened to Jill since Chattanooga.

  “Several reasons, I suspect,” Andy says. “Some probably left Farrell’s side for another path. I can understand hanging around a well-armed group in times like these—even if you don’t exactly jell with the leader’s views.”

  “What are her views?” I ask.

  Andy stares me down with fire in her eyes. “Anarchy. She wants to see what’s left of the world burn.”

  10

  “Headed your way,” Cooper announces, his voice muffled but still comprehensible. “Building clear. Zero resistance.”

  “Roger that,” Andy replies.

  “Hmmm…” I say, worried.

  Jill notices. “What’s wrong?”

  I motion to the museum. “If it was only the Conrads in there with us, why were we in there at all? Unless, we were next on the menu, that is.”

  At first, I figured the museum was Farrell’s base of operations, but from what Cooper and his team reported from their walking tour, it seems like it was just the brothers living here. Yet, I distinctly heard a woman’s voice who Andy believes is Tyson’s killer.

  “What are you thinking?” Andy asks.

  “What else have you found in Gatlinburg?”

  Her eyes open a bit, and she blows out a long breath. “Since we arrived a few days ago, we’ve seen all kinds of things—mostly the Unseen. They’re more prevalent here than we thought.”

  “They are?” I ask, glancing at Jill. “We kind of thought the opposite.”

  “You might be off the radar a little up the hill. City center is thriving…in a bad way.” She pauses to collect her thoughts and then speaks again. “We’ve been in three firefights, while also having to fend off the creatures. It’s been hell, Frank.”

  I nod, recalling countless times I’ve endured the same exact thing. “We can relate.”

  “I know you can… We’ve yet to see Farrell, though. We haven’t had any real evidence of her being here until now.”

  “A voice isn’t evidence,” I remind her. “You know that.”

  “Nowadays, it is. Honestly, Frank, how many women have that kind of voice—in Gatlinburg of all places—surrounded by murderers who are willing taking orders from her?”

  “She’s right,” Jill agrees. “It’s worth it to take a look.” Her hand lands on mine. “We still need supplies too.”

  I’m this close to arguing with Jill over the matter. We could just as easily head back to Sanctuary and hit one of the many homes on the way back. We don’t have to go looking for supplies in downtown Gatlinburg. But…I also know that we kinda have to. We owe Andy as much. She’s a good ally and an even better person. Those are bridges I prefer to keep built and usable. People of Andy’s background are irreplaceable in today’s environment.

  “So,” I say, “where do we start?”

  Andy is about to say something, but she doesn’t. Instead, everyone’s attention shifts to the front door where the CPD team is exiting the museum. I can plainly see our things. It’s hard not to spot a bow, quiver, and bloodstained baseball bat. The sight of my silent-but-deadly friends brings a smile to my face. If we’re going after someone—or a group of someones, in this case—then a stealthy weapon such as my Night Ridge bow will be of good use.

  “You any good with that thing?” Andy asks, obviously meaning m
y bow.

  I shrug. “I’m a decent shot.” I playfully elbow Jill. “But you should see her with that bat!”

  Jill rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

  Seriously though, she’s a power hitter in the game of killing. She swings for the fences with every at-bat. She leads the league in hard contact rate. Her home runs would make Mark McGwire look like—never mind… Sorry about that, I may have gotten a little carried away with my baseball analogies.

  Is that right, analogy? Whatever. Doesn’t matter.

  Andy looks at Jill. “Tell me the truth.”

  Jill’s eyes bounce from me and back to Andy. Then, she wiggles her hand back and forth. “C-plus.” She fails to hide her amusement, and the corner of her mouth rises into the tiniest of smirks. “Well, maybe B-minus.”

  Jill opens her door and steps out. “I’ll help the boys with our stuff. You two catch up some more.”

  As soon as the door shuts, Andy asks the question that’s been cooking since she first found us huddled on the ground.

  “What happened to her, Frank?”

  I take a slow breath and answer with one word. “Burners.”

  “Multiple?”

  “Yeah,” I reply. “Her parents. She killed them both herself.”

  Andy groans and rubs her forehead. “Dammit…”

  “Hey,” I say, seeing tears fall from Andy’s eyes.

  “Sorry,” she sniffs and wipes her eyes. “It’s been really hard, Frank. I…I have no one left.”

  “What about TJ?”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t think I’m going to like what I find. I’m holding out hope that he’s alive, but I also have to be realistic about it too. My nephew is probably dead. He’s a good kid, but he’s not us.”

  I know what she means. Andy isn’t me, or even Jill, but she’s proven herself to be a survivor with capabilities beyond that of the average human being. TJ was just a rookie in the CPD when the monsters arrived. He was as “green” as it got. Fresh. Unspoiled. I remember freezing up a couple of times when I was his age. Most of the time, it wasn’t life or death back then, either. Not like now.

  I’m startled when something taps on my window. Jill can’t see me through the tint, but she’s smiling nonetheless, holding one of my arrows up to the glass. She knows she got me good. My quiver is draped over her shoulder, full of bolts.