Before The Shores Of The Dead: The Complete Collection Read online

  Jennifer screws up her face into a mask of pain and concentration.

  “GET OUT OF ME!” She screams riding the final contraction.

  There is silence after the warriors cry.

  Then a baby cries.

  Then

  Jennifer explodes from the doors of the diner to see Ben standing next to his truck. His back is to her but she can tell that he knows she is watching.

  What will everyone say?

  She closes in on him.

  What will my mother do?

  He is less than ten feet away.

  Is this what I want, because if I do this it will be real?

  Her hand falls on his shoulder and she turns his body toward her.

  Yes it is.

  “If you have come to yell or laugh at me please don’t,” he says brokenly and that is when she realizing he has been crying.

  There are no words. Jennifer draws his face to hers bringing their lips into perfect alignment. She can smell the cheeseburger and milkshake on his breath and it makes her giddy being so close to him. Electricity bounces between them before she closes the distance and their mouths come together. Mouths part, lips meld, and tongues dance. Jennifer feels as if she is melting to this boy… no into this man, this amazing man.

  It lasts for less than a minute.

  It lasts forever and a day.

  They break apart and Ben stares at her in shock.

  “Want to get a cup of coffee before taking me home?” she asks shyly.

  “Yes, I’d like that,” he replies.

  Taking his hand in hers they walk side by side back in to the diner.

  Part 2: “Riley’s Song”

  Now, Camp Harrison

  “Do you think the dead care if you’re tired? Do you think the Bandit’s and Warlord’s give a shit how scared you are?!” Sergeant Major Riley Skeels screamed at the huffing and puffing group of volunteers. Steam rolled off his bald head as he effortlessly kept pace with the mass of struggling runners.

  Few of the newbie’s were willing to look at the battle scarred face of the young tough drill instructor. They slogged through the boggy ground of Camp Harrison on the North West shore of Isle Royale. The main training base for the American Republic of Michigan Defense Forces Scout Corp, was already gaining a reputation as a place where soldiers were made or broken.

  “Sergeant!” A strong booming voice called from the perimeter of the exercise yard.

  Riley looked up and kept the mask of rage on his face despite seeing one of his closest friends. Instead he yelled at the volunteers, “My god you people make me sick! What’s going to happen when all you have is a Fang or a Pike and you’re surround by a swarm of rotting puss bags? Are you gonna cry and whine for your mommies?!”

  “No Sergeant Major!” the group cried in unison.

  Riley restrained a smile, they are getting good, he thought.

  “Five more times around the yard then hit the showers!” he screamed, turned, and walked toward Major Rich Paulson.

  “You are having entirely too much fun today Riley,” the massively scarred and disfigured officer said grinning. The injuries, much like Riley’s own jagged nose to ear scar, were earned at the Battle of the Docks in White Harbor.

  “They think that just because they’ve done a dozen search and rescue missions on the mainland they are ready for anything. I need them to know that there will come a time when all they have is their wits and their training to get them out of a situation,” Riley replied tipping his cap back a little and giving his friend a small smile.

  “You’re doing a good job with them. General Sutton has a lot of faith in you and Colonel Millette still wants you to stop being noble and take the damn promotion, ‘Lieutenant Skeels would be an asset’,” Rich said watching soldiers trudge their way through the ankle deep muck.

  “I can do more good here,” Riley said watching his students from the corner of his eye. He never wanted them to know when he was and wasn’t looking. “I see you Parmer!” he yelled without turning his head, “Fifty pushups for goldbricking then finish the goddamn run!”

  “Yes Sgt. Major!” the man yelled back dropping to the mud without hesitation. Then he began loudly counting off his progress.

  “These kids love you,” Rich said admiringly.

  “Love me, hate me, it doesn’t matter as long as they survive out there,” Riley said coldly.

  “I’ve got a job for you,” Rich said changing the subject.

  “What do you need sir?” Riley asked dropping the stance of friendship and returning to protocol he ran his life by.

  “How would you like to go to Canada?”

  Then, the Day of Rising, White Harbor Senior High School

  “Are you a faggot Skeels?”

  Riley was shocked to hear those words come out of the mouth of a teacher. They’d been doing pushups for the millionth time and after twelve Riley had collapsed panting and sweating. His thin arms and chest were just not made for exercise.

  “I asked if you were a fucking faggot Skeels?!” Coach Bill Watts yelled.

  All of the kids in the gym broke out in gales of laughter.

  “No Mr. Watts,” Riley replied softly, trying very hard not to cry as heat blossomed in his body and a flush of shame and embarrassment covered his skin. He wanted to be anywhere but there, he wanted to be dead.

  “Well if you’re not a faggot you must be a pussy because that is the most pathetic display I’ve ever seen!” Coach Watts yelled, his spittle flecking Riley’s shaggy hair and neck.

  The laughter increased and Riley did the best he could to hide in plain sight. The humiliation would have continued, as it had dozens of other times before, if not for the PA system coming to life with a blaring noise. Everyone stopped laughing when a much shaken sounding female voice, Vice Principal Donnish, started speaking.

  “Attention all students and faculty there will be an emergency assembly in the auditorium in ten minutes. Attendance is mandatory.”

  “Alright you heard the Vice Principal, no time to change everyone to the auditorium,” Coach Watts yelled over the din of conversation which erupted after the announcement. “You, Skeels, over here I wanna talk to you,” he added pointing at Riley.

  Reluctantly Riley walked against the crowd toward the coach. Every third person he passed intentionally hit him with an elbow or checked him with their shoulder. For a brief second he considered throwing punches and just letting it out. But the idea of explaining things to his mother terrified him. With her talk of hell, damnation, and hatefulness of Jesus and his father God almighty scared him back into a meek mind set.

  “You make me sick Skeels,” Coach Watts said.

  Riley said nothing.

  “If it were up to me I’d send you to a school for retards. But the test’s say you are smart enough to be here so I have no choice.” A look of total confusion and disgust was plastered on the coach’s face as he continued to talk. “If you can’t start meeting the requirements of this class, requirements a twelve year old could meet by the way, I am going to take that faggy guitar you are always carrying and fuck you with it. Do you understand me?” he asked punctuating the question with a hard thump to Riley’s chest.

  “Yes coach,” Riley said.

  “Say it like a man Skeels!” the grey haired overweight man roared thumping Riley again and causing him to stumble back.

  “Yes Coach,” Riley said louder

  “Get the fuck out of here before I smack your faggy face,” Watts said with disgust.

  Riley ran from the gym, the tears he’d held back now freely flowing.

  Now, Camp William Harrison, Commandants Office

  Major Richard Paulson, Commandant of the Camp Harrison, settled into his office chair. It was a battered relic of the former Park Ranger station the Camp had started out life as. The injuries from the Battle of White Harbor had healed but he would always feel pain and he would never be fully functional again.

  “Sit down Riley,” he said
indicating the battered couch in the corner. When the sergeant sat down Rich began to talk. “We’ve been in constant contact with the Survivor Station in Sudbury almost since the first day of the rising,” Rich said pulling a large hand annotated map of the Great Lakes from his desk drawer.

  Riley studied the hand drawn lines and notes marking the changed reality of the region.

  “The Mayor in Sudbury contacted the Big Wigs in New White Harbor with some interesting information.”

  “What are the Canucks up too?” Riley asked.

  “They say a contingent of American deserters from Alaska arrived last night. They were ragged, hungry, and tired. But they had information about things in the Alaskan Republic. Apparently things are bad up there and they are looking for asylum,” Rich finished.

  “What does this have to do with me Sir?” Riley asked.

  “You personally, nothing, but I thought a retrieval mission would be a good exercise for your students.”

  Riley nodded. “That’s not a bad idea. Take them up there let them see what it’s like in the wild lands with little to no support from the island. Most of them think that since they did duty in White River or the ruins of Old Harbor that they know what’s what,” he finished irritably.

  “Alright, get them ready to shove off in the morning,” Rich said.

  Then, the Auditorium, White Harbor Senior High School

  “Settle down, please settle down,” Vice Principal Donnish said into the microphone. She looked upset and her normally pinpoint perfect appearance was disheveled and her voice cracked.

  “Alright students and faculty I am going to try and make this short and sweet.” She visibly gathered herself. “We are dismissing school early and sending you all home. Buses are already outside to take you home. If you are unable to go home for any reason we will be allowing students to shelter here in the gym until your parents can come for you.”

  The room erupted in questions and shouts.

  “Alright everyone needs to be quiet,” she said into the microphone but the noise level increased.

  “Please everyone, quiet down,” she said this time speaking a little louder but still being ignored.

  “ALL RIGHT YOU LITTLE SHIT’S SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Vice Principal Donnish screamed into the microphone.

  The room went dead silent.

  “Thank you,” she said returning to her normal speaking voice. “All students who drive to school please head to you vehicles and proceed to your homes, do not go anywhere else. All students who ride the bus please head to the front of the school as normal and board your normal bus. And those of you who walk to school,” this was a large number due to the compact nature of White Harbor, “you have the option of walking home or waiting for someone to pick you up in the gymnasium,” she finished and walked off the stage without looking back.

  Nobody ever saw her again.

  Now, the Docks, Camp Harrison

  “This may be a simple retrieval mission but we will be treating it like an incursion into infested territory!” Riley boomed speaking to the eleven members of his training class. There had been twenty-seven when the class opened five weeks earlier.

  These were the best of the best.

  “You don’t get to call yourself a Scout until you’ve been on a real op, but this will do for a test run,” he added walking up and down the line of men and women visually inspecting their gear, verifying everything was as it was supposed to be. “The Canucks are hard fighters too and they’ve been roughing it on the mainland while we’ve had this tropical island paradise to rest on.”

  The Scout cadets laughed. Life on the Island was always a hard scrabbled existence. Once the dead had been cleared the survivors from the disparate groups had spent every waking hour transforming the wilderness preserve into a thriving survivor community.

  “Alright you apes onto the transport!”

  Eleven lean, heavily armed, men and women pounded their way onto the large sail boat. Formerly a rich man’s toy named “Madeline’s Dream” the craft had been seized by the Republic’s fledging fleet and rechristened the “War Turtle”. Riley thought some moron in the fleet was a Pokémon fan before the dead rose. When they began to chatter amongst one another Riley said nothing, they were off the base and headed into the wild lands.

  Then, Skeels Residence

  “Mom!” Riley called when he burst through the front door of their small bungalow home near the White River. Ever since his father had died following a two year battle with cancer it had just been Riley and his mother. A mother who’d grown more strange and distant as the months and years passed.

  “Mom, are you home?” The bus ride home had been strange, there’d been a lot of traffic on the roads and even for a town where hunting was nearly a religion, there were an inordinate number of rifles visible.

  Then there’d been the kids on the bus with smart phones.

  The reports they were receiving were insane. The dead were getting up and trying to eat the living, cities were burning, Asia was being consumed by Atomic Fire, the President was airborne, and the Vice President was dead.

  None of it made any sense to Riley. He was scared and he wanted his mother more than he’d wanted her since dad died.

  “MOM!” he yelled as loud as he could.

  “Goodness Riley,” she said from behind him.

  He nearly jumped out of his sneakers.

  “There is no need to yell Riley,” she said smiling almost angelically. She was wearing her Sunday best, the outfit she reserved for christenings and weddings. Her eyes were wide and sparkling to match her smile.

  “Mom there’s something crazy going on out there,” he said half gesturing toward the front door.

  “Yes I know, isn’t it wonderful?” she said placing a hand on his thin shoulder. He noticed a bandage on her exposed wrist and a tiny spot of blood soaking through it.

  “What do you mean mom?” he asked trying to get a closer look at her wound. But when she saw what he was doing she drew her hand back and pushed the sleeve of her dress all of the way down.

  “It was the strangest thing. I was out by the river reading my bible.” She walked over to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of Pepsi. “I was reading my bible and this man came out of the woods. He looked hurt so I went to see if he needed help.” She opened the bottle and took a long slow drink. “When I reached him he looked sick and when I tried to talk to him he grabbed me and bit my arm.” She sighed.

  “Mom, are you okay?” Riley asked backing slowly toward the living room.

  “Oh I’m fine, just a small wound,” she said giggling. Then she put down the empty Pepsi bottle and took something from the drawer.

  That scared Riley it’d been a long time since he’d heard his mom giggle.

  “I pulled my arm away and ran back to the car. When I got home I bandaged it, it really didn’t even hurt, and turned on the television. That was when I learned the glorious news,” she said and now she sounded odder than ever and her hand was behind her back.

  “What glorious news?” Riley asked moving toward the closet in the front hall.

  His mom followed and kept talking.

  “It’s the end of the world Riley. Soon we will be with Jesus and Daddy!” she said and her voice began to screech. From behind her back she drew the massive chef’s knife she used to break down large hunks of meat.

  Now, the Sudbury Survivor Station, Free Canada

  “Look at that boys and girls!” Riley said pointing to the large heavily patched Maple Leaf flag flying over the harbor. The massive earth and timber walls surrounding the fortified community of Sudbury were clearly visible and lent a feeling of strength to their position.

  The Scout Cadets cheered. The crew of the War Turtle, who’d made many runs to Sudbury, were amused by the reaction. Between The folks in Sudbury and their own forces on Isle Royale they’d managed to keep the waters of Lake Superior a relatively safe place to travel. Unlike the other lakes, if the stories on the airwave
s and the reports from the relay were to be believed.

  Honor guards of a dozen RCMP troops were lined up on the dock and they saluted in unison as the War Turtle was moored to the pier. Each of the Canadian warriors were dressed in worn forest camouflage but each wore the distinctive Mountie Hat made popular in America by the likes of Dudley Do-Right. The Scouts disembarked and after a few formal greeting’s the two groups mixed, more like family than allied forces.

  “General Sutton sends her regards,” Riley said saluting Colonel LeFlamme commander of the Mounties. The graying man had nearly been retired when the dead rose. A veteran of the Royal Canadian Army and the RCMP, he’d taken control of the defenses of his hometown of Sudbury in the first days when the Canadian government removed itself to Nova Scotia and Prince Edward Island where it remained to this day.

  “The General and her damndable poker skills can stay on your island!” The colonel exclaimed in thickly accent Quebecois English.

  Riley laughed and took the generals offered hand in his own firm calloused grip.

  “How are you doing Sgt. Major, they have not yet convinced you to become an officer?” he asked disbelievingly.

  “I am happy where I am,” Riley said deadpan.

  The colonel broke out in gales of laughter. When he’d regained his calm he spoke more seriously. “I have instructed my people as to your request, they will be taking your cadets out into the Death Lands so they can get some hands on experience.” He gave Riley a sidelong look. “Don’t you think it’s a bit cruel to not tell them you are sending them out beyond the walls?”

  “Maybe,” Riley said watching his people walking away with Colonel LeFlamme’s. “But they need to get their hands dirty, they volunteered to do this. It’s my job to make sure they can handle it, these are the best I have,” he said. Silently saying their names in his own mind as they walked away with the Canadian troops.