Burn Page 16

  It was a treaty O’Dell co-signed without hesitation inside the small conference room buried five thousand feet under the dying farms of Montana. A week earlier his Vice President had been blown to pieces in an assassination attempt on Hank’s life. Radical groups had claimed responsibility for the attack, and swore there would be more unless the President surrendered his holy ambition of putting a select few of humanity’s population into deep-freeze while the rest fried. They called him a megalomaniac. They accused him of being insane.

  Hank watched the ink of his signature dry. They’re the insane ones… All of them. Idealistic dreamers believing the world can be saved. We must burn before we can be redeemed. He placed the pen down on the last page, and pushed the agreement across the table to the man seated on the other side.

  Tomas Sandon turned it around and signed below the president’s black scrawl. “Edna would’ve been pleased to see this day come,” ABZE’s CEO commented. “Very historic. Perhaps I’ll have the opportunity to tell her all about it in a dozen or so centuries.”

  “Edna?” Hank asked.

  “Edna Eichberg, the last Eichberg to control company affairs.”

  “Yes, of course,” Hank said absently. He was more concerned about staying alive until his body was successfully frozen, and not listening to company history lessons. “When can we finalize this?”

  Sandon tucked the forty-page agreement into a black leather folder and handed it to one of his lawyers. “No time like the present.” He stood and motioned the President to lead them out of the room. Four attorneys, half a dozen Secret Service agents, and eight high-ranking ABZE executives followed.

  They crowded into an elevator and started to descend even further into the earth. Sandon leaned in close to Hank. “You will be safe from your enemies here, Mr. President. The Lone Tree facility is our deepest, most secure location.”

  Hank nodded slowly and watched the level indicators light up on the door in front of him.

  Sandon whispered. “Just remember the clause on page thirty-six. Your first order of business when you awaken will be to travel to the Victory Island facility.”

  “And officially transfer all government control of the new west to Kelvin Eichberg. I did read the entire thing, Tomas.”

  The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened. O’Dell ordered everyone out but Sandon. The doors closed again, leaving the two alone. “Why Victory Island?” Hank asked. “The CRYERS program was a failure. There’s been no communication with the facility in over a decade. Eichberg may not even be alive anymore. Why wouldn’t you assume power in the west?”

  “You just said it… Power. Whatever future world we wake up to will need the most powerful of rulers. Edna was a fine corporate manager, but her father is a leader… the most brilliant and strong-willed person I ever worked with. If any man could survive, he’s the one.”

  His tone worried Hank. No, Tomas. I’m the one. I will lead our world into the light. “You’re in charge of ABZE now, why haven’t you had him released?”

  “The Victory facility was shut down and sealed up years ago, but even now my hands are legally tied from releasing him… one of his daughter’s last executive orders. The facility would remain sealed, the power cut for a century… more than enough time to guarantee whatever living below finally died out.”

  “But not Kelvin Eichberg. He’s made of strong stuff, isn’t he, Tomas?”

  “Yes, Mr. President. He still lives. He’ll have found a way, and he will be there waiting when the time comes.”

  Don’t count on it.

  Someone tapped on the elevator doors. Sandon pressed a side panel and the doors slid open. One of the President’s men appeared before them, looking concerned. “Is everything alright, sir?”

  “Everything is fine.” He clapped Tomas on the back, and the two stepped out into a brightly lit corridor. “Show me to my room, Tomas. Let’s get a look at where I’ll be spending the next fifteen hundred years.” He pulled him in and whispered one last thing in his ear. “I will go to Victory Island when I awaken. I will seek out Eichberg.”

  Sandon smiled. It was an appreciative, relieved look. “Thank you, sir.”

  Hank O’Dell would keep that part of his word, but he wouldn’t hand over half of the United States to anyone—signed agreement or no. This great nation only needed one leader, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be Kelvin Eichberg.

  “So what happened to Sandon?” Trot asked. “Did he and all them other folks get put to sleep with you?”

  “No. Tomas and the others returned topside for a short time after I was frozen.”

  Hank hadn’t told Trot and the three women the whole story. He left out the parts about Kelvin Eichberg and the hidden installation buried beneath Victory Island. And he certainly didn’t tell them about his final order as Commander in Chief—the command to let fly his country’s entire nuclear arsenal across the world.

  He had told them his story as they continued west, marching across flatlands of baked mud and into rolling hills covered with brown grass and weeds. They made good time, traveling through the night to stay warm and slowing during the day to conserve energy in the heat of the sun. They never wandered far from the river.

  Morning was rising at their backs once again, throwing long black shadows of themselves westward. Angel asked the next question. “How many states did you say there was?”

  “Fifty-two. Fifty-three if you include Cuba, but the war there hadn’t quite wrapped up in time to make it official.”

  The girl scratched at a pimple on her chin and wiped her finger clean on Spot’s mane. “Fifty-three states and half a billion people livin’ in them… that’s awful hard to believe. There ain’t no number so big.”

  “There were over twenty times that amount living before God intervened,” Hank countered.

  Kay looked down at the man walking between the horses. “This one god you keep talking about had the power to make the sun strike out and dry up all the land. I thought you said he was forgiving.”

  “You’re here, aren’t you? God is forgiving, but he has a terrible temper. We must never make the mistake of over-populating the earth again. This country will be a great nation once again, I swear it, but things will be different this time.”

  Angel made a snorting noise. “And you’ll be the one what leads it? That’s even harder to believe than them stupid numbers you made up.”

  Hank didn’t argue with the girl. Educating these barbarian survivors would require long months and years. Centuries had passed in a total absence of civilization. He would need to be patient. They were his responsibility. They were his new citizens. But these people weren’t totally ignorant of the past; the four knew about Victory Island. They had called it by name, and were already headed there by the time he’d found Trot. What were the odds of him coming across them? Hank didn’t believe in long shots. It was divine intervention. Someone or something was still out there, keeping memories of the past alive. Perhaps Hank wouldn’t have to dig a mile down under the island to kill Kelvin Eichberg.

  He spoke to the woman riding behind Kay. “You haven’t asked me any questions. You don’t trust me… You think I’m like all those other people rising up out of the ground.”

  “You aren’t people,” Kay replied without looking at him. “You look and talk like all the other killers… like Lothair Eichberg.”

  Hank stopped walking. “What did you say?”

  “You aren’t people,” Sara repeated. “You’re killers.”

  “The name, say it again.”

  Kay reined the horse in. Sara turned and stared accusingly. “Lothair Eichberg… Do you know him?”

  “No,” he answered quickly. It was the truth; the founder of ABZE had been frozen thirty-five years before Hank was born. He ran to the other horse and dragged Trot down. “Was this Lothair Eichberg the man you told me about when I found you? The one you woke from his coffin?”

  The rifle was in Angel’s hand. Sara and Kay had pulled we
apons of their own. “Let him go,” the ugly girl warned. “The only reason you’re still livin’ is because you saved Trot. Hurt him now, and we’ll plant you back in the dirt.”

  Hank released him. “Please, Trot. Was it Lothair Eichberg?”

  His head bobbed up and down. Hank stepped back and held his hands above his head. “Ladies… holster your weapons. I was simply curious.”

  The guns were put away and the five continued west.

  Hank didn’t talk anymore about the past. He concentrated on the present and near future. Now there were two Eichbergs to kill.

  Chapter 31

  The Lawman walked out of Rudd alone, headed east for the pit under an encompassing blanket of grey. The oppressive heat of the previous day and night remained, but a wind had picked up, blasting his face with dirt and stinging his eyes with sand. The thunder rumbled. He could see herds of rollers lining up in grisly formation to the south and to the north. On any other day of his life, Lawson would’ve run for cover had he seen even one of the creatures that close. The animals moved in closer, hundreds of them. They formed a mile long corridor to either side of him, a dusty trail leading to the ring of giant rocks where hundreds had been slaughtered. Lawson stayed on the path. He didn’t have any other choice.

  He no longer regretted leaving his guns for Eichberg to take. They would’ve done him little good on this dark and fateful morning. All Lawson could hope for now was a good death, and perhaps the slim opportunity of seeing Willem released. Lothair Eichberg’s vengeance seemed trained solely on the Lawman. Maybe the right words spoken, combined with a little trickery, would see the brothers reunited and fleeing west with the girl by day’s end.

  Shitty hopes and stupid wishes.

  A bolt of lightning struck out from the clouds directly ahead. It hurt his eyes. The crack of thunder moments later felt like hard slaps against his ears. Some of the rollers danced from side to side, bumping into one another, their black eyes rolling fearfully inside their massive skulls.

  Lawson left them behind and entered the narrow slit in the big rocks where Lode had pulled him through to compete in the Rites. It seemed like years ago, but only a few short weeks had passed since that horrible day. Lawson had been beat nearly to death, and Lode had had his head ripped wide open. Hundreds had gathered to watch it happen.

  Most of the spectators were still there, but none of them were living. Corpses were littered everywhere. The meat on their bones and the organs in their bellies had rotted away, or been picked clean by howlers and buzzards. The biggest grouping of dead bodies was piled up in a stinking cluster against the pit’s far wall. That’s where most had tried escaping shortly after the cryers arrived. The wind picked up, it whistled in behind the Lawman and swirled about the pit, stirring the stench.

  Lothair Eichberg was standing in the middle of the pit.

  Lawson called out. “Where’s the boy?”

  “Nearby. Alive.”

  “Show him to me.”

  “I will not. You are in control of nothing here, Lawman.”

  Lawson took a few steps towards him. “I still control me, Eichberg. If it’s a fight you want, I won’t give it to you. I’ll just stand here and let you finish me off.”

  Lothair moved in slowly, sidestepping around a mess of ribcages and skulls. “You’ve been reading too many of those old western novels. I could care less if you fight back or not. As long as you suffer, that’s all that matters.”

  Lawson shrugged and moved to his right. “Fuck you too, then. We’ll fight.”

  The first big drops of rain started to fall. The wind cooled almost instantly. The clouds over the pit roiled and spun. Purple lightning forked down into the plains beyond and thunder roared all around them.

  A cold drop smacked into Lawson’s eye. He went to wipe it away and Eichberg slammed into his chest. They fell to the ground, rolling in dust and dead bodies. It began to pour. Dirt and dust turned to mud and steam as the men locked their hands around each other’s throats. Too close, the Lawman thought. He’s older than everything, but he’s fast and strong... Way too strong.

  Lawson slammed his forehead into Eichberg’s nose. It didn’t break bone, but the grip around his throat loosened. The Lawman twisted and broke free, staggering back to his feet and away from the cryer. He stepped in the visceral remains of some unfortunate bastard, and slipped back down onto one knee. His hand landed in a tangle of coarse black hair and bone. Lawson glanced down and saw the half-rotted face of Jakob. The man’s eyes were gone.

  I’m sorry for what I did to you… I truly am.

  Lothair was rushing at him a second time. Lawson pulled at Jakob’s beard with both hands, meaning to hurl the corpse at Eichberg, but the man’s great mat of facial hair ripped away, taking along chunks of chin skin and cheeks. Lothair ran face-first into it. Lawson drove a knee into his gut and punched the dead man’s beard into his gaping mouth.

  He’s strong and fast, but he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s never gone to fists with anyone that fought back. He doesn’t know what it means to fight dirty.

  Eichberg raked an arm through the air, but Lawson knew it was coming. He was already bending to avoid it. He leaned in, hit Lothair in the stomach, and jumped away. The old cryer staggered forward, still trying to recover his balance. He slipped in the wet earth and fell flat on his stomach. Lawson kicked him in the back of the head.

  The rain was coming down in cold sheets. The wind had intensified, howling in the Lawman’s ears. It was becoming difficult to see. He jabbed with his heel into what he thought was the back of his neck, but his boot only found mud. Eichberg grabbed at his arm and pulled him down.

  “Your old tricks won’t work here,” he yelled into Lawson’s face. His hands were around the Lawman’s throat again, pushing him down into the ground. Bits of skin and black hair were still falling out of his mouth. He leaned in close as he throttled. “I’ll eat the boy when we’re finished here. And then I’ll catch up to the others… eat them too.”

  Lawson stared into the pink eyes, and searched the ground with his hands. He found a skull and smashed it against Eichberg’s head. The cryer grunted, but kept on choking. The roar of the storm filled the Lawman’s ears. The rain had started to let up and he could see into the sky. The clouds had become one churning mass, twisting grey, green, and black like the currents of some monstrous ocean, tunneling in on itself.

  His fingers settled on a ribcage. Lawson grabbed one of the bones and snapped it free. He stabbed it into the skin of Lothair’s neck. It didn’t sink in far, but it had gotten Eichberg’s attention. Lawson pulled down and tore a six-inch gash all the way to his collar bone. Eichberg wailed and batted the rib away. Lawson grabbed at the hand still on his throat and pushed up. He bit into Lothair’s forearm and pulled more grey skin away.

  Eichberg fell off him, and Lawson crawled into the rocks and corpses of the pit’s inner wall.

  A few seconds is all I need… Just need to catch my breath some.

  But the Lawman knew deeper down it would take more than a few seconds. He was winded and panting like a dying dog. His body still hadn’t fully recovered from the multiple beatings he’d taken from Lode weeks before. Eichberg was moving in at him again, ripped open, bloody, and fucking furious.

  Lawson looked back up into the churning clouds. Specks of black appeared, floating and dancing in the grey. One of the black spots floated closer his way. It dropped a hundred feet, made a mournful bellow, and was whisked back up. “Gawdamn,” Lawson whispered. Rollers were rolling in the clouds, spinning end over end like tumbleweeds flitting across the plains. He saw dozens more being sucked into the clouds and spat back out, rotating around and around in the biggest twister Lawson had ever seen.

  A five-thousand pound mass of muscle and fur was shot out from the vortex further than the rest. It began plummeting down. Lothair had seen it as well. They tracked its frenzied descent from a thousand feet, and watched it explode into the rocks at the far side of the pit.r />
  “Are you enjoying yourself, Lawman?” Eichberg had to scream for the words to be heard over the constant roar. “You should feel honored to die on a day like this!”

  “We’ll both be dead soon if we don’t find cover!”

  “I’ve lived a long life.”

  Lawson saw something else directly above him. He cringed back into the rocks, expecting to be flattened by a second falling roller. It was that old tree he’d seen the children of Rudd climb out onto the morning of the Rites massacre. The thing was still leaning out at an impossible angle, whipping its gnarled branches in the wind. Something grey was stuck in its limbs. Lawson saw hands reaching further out along the gnarled trunk, legs pushing. A person. Long, tangled black hair.

  A woman.

  Who in hells would be tree-climbing on a day like this?

  Edna Eichberg let go of the tree and fell headlong towards her great-grandfather.

  ***

  Cobe had convinced Jenny to stay with him in the ruins of Rudd shortly after the Lawman had set out for the pit. The second time he had pleaded. When rollers began flying through the sky, there was nothing Cobe could do or say to keep her from setting out. He ran after her, tried to explain the hopelessness of it all. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to find Willem—he knew his brother better than she did. If anyone could find a way to slip free of Eichberg while he was busy trying to kill the Lawman, that someone was his little brother. Cobe and Jenny would be of little use to the boy if they weren’t waiting where he most likely expected them to be.

  Cobe had been right. They saw Willem trudging through mud towards Rudd’s east bridge under the considerable weight of the Lawman’s weapons. One hand gun was tucked into the front of his pants, a second he gripped tight against his chest. Two rifles were shoved under his arm, and the big six-shooters Lawson had risked their lives to retrieve from Burn were holstered around his skinny waist. The belt was tied in a loose knot, the guns hung down past his knees.