In the Shadow of the Tiger (The Fighter Series Book 2) Page 16

  “Tomorrow is Thursday. Things warm up Friday night.” Axel said.

  “Some things never change.” Conman chuckled.

  “There’s some air support if you need it. We also got word this morning that several surviving senators have agreed to step in and get the political part of the state back on its feet. That means military.” Axel said. “Don’t get too excited, the government still moves slow and is only a sixteenth of what it was in the past. You’re part of the country’s military now.”

  Jack was quiet as they gathered to the front of the room. He would be the one to brief his team. Government aid for the state was both exciting and frightening. Taking a military truck over to the convention center, they boarded a bus that would take them from the city of Long Beach to Sacramento. Flying in would bring attention to them. They knew they were going into yet another war zone. For Riley, it was where she’d called home for many years. Her nerves were frayed, but when Jack reached across and touched her hand, she didn't feel so alone.

  “You okay with this?” He asked her in a whisper.

  “Yeah.”

  So he left it alone. “Okay.” He gave her hand a squeeze before leaving to sit at the front of the bus.

  Jack broke them up into five teams. Riley would be heading into the city with Conman and Ryan. Sweeping cities was an unpredictable business especially since gun laws were non-existent. Some of the infected escaped death and wandered the streets looking for the next kill. The newbies were hard to separate from those not infected and even harder to identify.

  The team, they were all looking for the adrenaline rush of confronting something they’d grown familiar too; confronting strangers. It was like walking on the edge of a weakened ledge with a hundred foot drop not knowing if you’d fall.

  The team was given specific locations to search. The mission was to find survivors and kill those infected. Cleaners picked up the dead. The team was well trained to deal with survivors. They also knew how to identify the infected. Axel had a warehouse full of food and water. Help was available, but it wasn’t free. No one was allowed to squat in city limits. Some people did it anyway and didn’t care. Meanwhile, we’d be looking for Jaden and Summer and searching for the scum that was stealing the youth and marketing the drugs.

  Jack paired everyone according to skills balancing each team as a whole. He was good at that. Everyone had their little niche that worked for them individually. Riley liked to work with all of them, but Ryan and Blake were her favorites. Being Ryan was Jack's brother, he had a tab on her, so to say. Jack had given her a protector of sorts. Ryan however, treated her like another team member.

  Although Ryan was not like Jack in many ways both of them had a unique charm. Jack was the silent, quiet one and Ryan was the funny sometimes-reckless one. Riley could separate Jack and Ryan’s differences, but what they did share was, they were both deadly. As was Eric. It was why the man upstairs brought them together. So there they stood a woman, a cross-dresser and a model for surfer magazine. A motley crew if ever there was one, but balanced.

  The cities had become a playground for violence. Taller buildings were excellent places for snipers and squatters while the lower laying buildings were more familiar for those lost and searching for a place to live. Both of which were just as dangerous as the other.

  “Ready?” Ryan asked Riley.

  She turned to him having little room to move in her seat squished between him and Conman who was busy combing his buzzed hair back. Regularly training, they worked hard to stay stronger than their enemies. Riley, she just got leaner, trimmer but the guys, they bulked up except Triston the Piston. He was the team's runner. Even Conman had bulked up a little.

  Riley glanced over at Eric who winked at her.

  This action was a private pre-fight moment. Winking was the team's way of saying, be careful. See you when this is all over. It could also be goodbye. Jack on the other hand always gave her a look. Riley was beginning to know it well because she could see the intense look on his face soften with worry. In return, Riley would give him a slight grin. It was her way of telling him that she was going even if he didn't want her to.

  Riley looked out the window, pressing into the side of the bus allowing Ryan more room. She was going back to her old stomping grounds once again, but this time she wouldn't be making any trips down memory lane. This time Riley was going back to fight with her team. The team was her family now.

  Riley thought of Ellie, the vision of her standing the front porch, arms crossed hair blowing all around Ellie's shoulders like fire fed by a breeze. She began to wonder what her life had been before the Shift. Who Ellie was, what Ellie liked. She recreated the faded blue blouse that she'd worn that day and how it flowed away from her thin body and into the wind. Then Riley thought of herself. She thought of those last steps she took as she left the department building that night. Riley believed she could escape her life never to look back without memory. She’d been wrong.

  Riley scanned the road. With no traffic, there was less trash lining the highway. The garbage left by humans was hiding under soil or washed away by hard rains. Old broken-down buildings that once littered the landscape lay in heaps. Some of them burned into piles of ash. Without so many travelers, the land already looked cleaner. Where dry dusted land had been, vegetation was beginning to grow.

  The closer they got to Sacramento, the colors of fall appeared in the trees. Riley remembered how beautiful northern California could be. It was late afternoon when they rolled into the Power Balance Pavilion AKA The Arco Arena. Once used for entertainment, the building was now a command center for fighters.

  Rerouted to a large room containing bunks lining the outer wall they joined another team from Bakersfield who’d also just arrived. Each bunk, outfitted with sheets, pillows and military style blankets, had a small chest of drawers off the side of the bottom bed. It wasn’t the Hilton, but it was comfortable enough. When the fight was over it was a place to sleep. Riley was about to pick her bed when a thin man who looked no older than a teenage boy approached her.

  “Ladies are in the room across the hall.” He said softly.

  “What?”

  “Ladies go that way.” He repeated, pointing through the door.

  Sam was moving towards her. “Yeah, I guess some things never change,” Sam said smiling.

  Before Riley could catch Jack’s attentions, she and Sam left the room by escort. When they stopped, Riley was standing among twelve to fifteen other women and outside her comfort zone. The room was oddly quiet especially for that many women congregated into one space. Sam stood out with all that curly red hair among women who’d cut and cropped their hair for easier fixing. Riley reached up and tugged on the end of her braid.

  “Shit,” Sam whispered. “Group hormone.”

  “Copy.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Riley had been there a million times before. She knew this mall well. Remembering the coffee from the coffee shop across the way made her mouth water. Her truck had sat in the west-parking garage while she shopped in the mall bumping shoulders with other Christmas shoppers. It was ironic remembering the holidays here, and here she was once again at the mall during the holiday season. Except for this time, there were no others. No Santa Clause and elves, no children pulling on mothers and no Christmas candy to choose from. Christmas music rang in her ears but only in distant memory.

  They moved towards what used to be Nordstrom’s and headed toward the long stretch of once glassed entryways directing them inward towards the shopping mall. There was little outer debris. Some of the buildings might not see repair for years. Broken windows hid behind sheets of thick plywood decorated by markers claiming the area to be theirs. Artwork painted in graffiti style artistically displayed splashes of style and color. More dramatic was the long rows of posters, stapled and faded of missing loved ones lending a sense of abandonment.

  The unoccupied front entrance to the mall held shadows that danced in perfect ligh
t. The effect caused Riley to shudder. Violence still lived there. She felt it. Mother Nature had sent buckets of rain on the bloody pavement failing to wash away evidence that lives had been lost. The stains were everywhere. Riley sidestepped them fearing she might disturb their spirits.

  The Sacramento skies threatened rain even then, and the temperature was just cold enough to warrant gloves and beanies. The air was fresh as the smell of the next rain tickled her nose. To add to her already skittish mood, the distant sound of thunder rumbled through the gathering clouds, and the skies turned a darkened gray casting long shadows behind them. It was noon, and the sun was hiding behind thick layers of moisture laden cloud cover leaving behind a fiery orange and purple display of colors in the sky. The heavens, in turn, caused the large white structure in front of them to cast eerie unwelcome shadows.

  Riley crouched several feet away from Conman and Ryan who held their semi-automatics out in front of them. With weapons drawn and ready, it was show-and-tell time. Riley was the only one wielding a pistol, with several other weapons she carried on her person. Weighted down with a bulletproof vest, she carried extra ammo and even a few grenades. The benefit, it provided her with extra warmth.

  They stopped short of the entrance. A figure dashed out of the broken doorway, his gait choppy and unsteady. He waved his hands out in front of him. His black suit had turned multiple hues of purple, faded and torn. A white shirt, now dingy with various colors, hung tattered under his jacket stained with blood and dirt. Half of a tie hung cockeyed and ridiculous. A foul smell followed him tainting the fresh air.

  As the man came into the hazy light, he zigzagged in front of them clutching onto a brown paper bag against his face hiding his features. He paused and then scrambled forward almost losing the sack. Conman advanced towards him first. The man went to his knees and hunkered over the brown bag protectively like a child would a doll. He mumbled something inaudible and began rocking back and forth.

  All they could see was the man’s back broad shoulders rolled forward. The long trench style coat covered him like a blanket. Conman pushed the nose of his gun forward tapping the man on his back. The man grunted but didn’t turn to face them.

  “Mister. Stand up.” Conman ordered.

  Ryan and Riley stepped off to the side covering Conman.

  “Hey, Mister.” Conman said in a firm tone, “You need help?”

  Still, the man leaned forward rocking. The collar of his jacket hung down around his neck. There was a gentle push of air as a breeze stirred down the street lifting several pieces of debris and freeing them from captivity. It was a desolate feeling to see trash dance while everything else seemed frozen in time.

  “I need you to stand up man. Do you understand?” Conman said. He tapped the man on the shoulder again but this time harder. “There’s a ride coming for you.”

  The man started to grunt, and then he began to rock his body from side to side even harder.

  “Pick up at the mall. Copy?” Ryan said into his mic.

  “Copy. ETA ten minutes.”

  “Copy,” Ryan said.

  The man’s grunting turned into a moan. The volume increased twofold and then for no reason the man lurched to his feet dropping the brown paper bag. His head bowed just enough keeping his face invisible, but Riley could see the saliva coming from his mouth.

  “Careful Conman.” She said.

  She pressed her pistol forward, and Conman took a giant step back. The man stood there like a statue. His hands out to his sides his chin tucked and his legs in a defensive stance.

  “What the hell?” Conman said.

  “I don’t think he wants a ride,” Riley said keeping her pistol aimed in his direction. “Careful, they bite.”

  The vagrant lifted his head and looked in her direction as if she’d offended him. She sucked in a deep breath of air and held it. His distorted face was nothing short of rotting skin and a collage of open sores oozing down on one side. The lesions looked angry and infected. Some of the skin on his face looked like wax, dripping, sliding downward almost covering the man’s black eyes. Fear washed over her that something new in their post-traumatic world was beginning to form. The term monster was an understatement. Riley wanted no part of them.

  Ryan turned aiming his semi-auto in the man’s direction. “Holy Shit!” He exclaimed, “What is that?”

  “Something that can’t be fixed,” Riley said.

  The vagrant froze. They waited unsure what to do next. Clothed in a once expensive suit shredded like a homeless man’s on the street, he reflected like a story gone wrong. The sad part, he'd survived the shift but succumbed to drugs. Now infected, he could not be helped. There was the question of hepatitis, and other bodily fluid transferred diseases. Riley thought of the woman who attacked her on the ship.

  “What do we do?” Conman asked.

  “What’s going on?” Jack’s voice crackled across their earpieces.

  “Infected or addicted,” Riley said softly.

  “Shoot if you have to,” Jack directed.

  Then, the balding man smiled at her. He was drooling saliva out of his mouth like a baby teething through jagged teeth and blackened holes. He looked like a human form of Cujo and was about to get it on. Her stomach rolled. Riley took a compassionate head shot just as he lunged forward. The sound of her gun, as it released a round from the chamber, echoed down the street. The breeze caught the man’s lapel as he started to fall forward revealing several pistols and a sawed-off shotgun. As he hit the ground, the gun broke free from the man's body, and it went skidding across the pavement. Ryan reached out and caught it with his foot. The man was dead before flesh and pavement met. A series of shudders moved hands and feet. Then there was nothing. The brown paper bag lay not far from one of his outstretched arms. A few its contents scattered on the pavement. A fine white powder fanned out onto the cement and as another push of wind swept past them so did the white dust, filtering and then disappearing into the air.

  “What the hell?” It was all Ryan could say while holding his collar to his face to shield himself from the white powder that had lifted into the air.

  Riley turned away from him speaking into the mic, “Cancel the pickup. Make it a cleanup.”

  “Copy,” Jack said. His voice gave her little comfort.

  “There’s a package you might want to take a look at. Most of it took flight, but there might be some residue.”

  “Copy.”

  Riley advanced wanting nothing more than to further herself away from the still warm body lying on the ground. Conman pushed out in front of her protective and like a bloodhound on the hunt. They neared the entrance of the first department store seeing the damage. Broken glass and ripped metal lay under a layer of debris. Nothing was sacred, not even Nordstrom. They entered with the little light filtering through the remaining giant glass sections of windows. The sky was darkening, as was the inside of the department store.

  Riley let her fingers slide over the material of clothing that still hung on racks. She glanced at a mannequin who had a frozen stoic expression plastic unaffected by chaos. The lady dummy stood with her arm out, and Riley wanted to tear it off. If Riley had a sharpie, she would have given her some mean eyebrows. Cute shirt. Thinking of filling her bags with goods, Riley thought twice about the extra weight she’d have to carry. Taking what she wanted on the way out was a better choice. She glanced over catching Conman eyeing the same shirt she had. Riley shook her head no. She had claims on that one.

  They moved through the open aisles, their feet leaving tracks with other shoppers on the dusty floor. The city had plenty of businesses and few people left to steal. This store, not free from looters, held some of its contents. Ryan searched the dressing rooms, and Riley stood on watch outside the door while Conman grabbed a few items from the makeup counter. She couldn't blame him. They were light in weight and easily carried.

  The smells of dust and time touched her nose building a sneeze. The three of them disturbed the
past stirring its contents into the thick air. The building groaned as an intense round of thunder exploded outside. Riley felt the presence of cold air rush past her. They'd gotten inside just in time. Dark clouds arrived, and the weather began its taster for what was to come.

  Ryan paused next to Riley.

  “What is Conman doing?” He asked.

  “Stocking up on makeup.” She said.

  “Great. We’re not in here for ten minutes, and already he’s shopping.”

  She grinned slightly, “Why not.”

  “Hey Relay, are there ghosts in here?” Conman asked stopping back towards his team.

  “Yes,” is all she said?

  Riley had a flash of the trip the girls, and she had made to Walmart on the way out of Oregon. Shopping isle after isle at a high rate of picking. Looking back, they didn’t even know what they’d stolen. It wasn’t until later when they went through the bags, they discovered their treasure. Clothing that was either too big or too small. They’d laughed so hard when Megan dressed in pants that were three inches too short.