Last Stand (The Survivalist Book 7) (38 page)

Mason, Tanner, and Issa sat up late into the night, discussing what had happened. As they spoke, Mason couldn’t help but marvel at Issa’s beauty. The virus had forever marked her, but it had also given her an exotic radiance unlike any woman he had ever met. More than that, there was a fierceness, a warrior spirit that only a certain kind of man could truly appreciate, let alone ever hope to tame. She and Tanner didn’t sit cuddling like teenagers at a sleepover. Instead, she sat poised on the arm of his chair, tall and strong, her dark eyes shining with interest as Mason told of his adventure.

When he was finally finished, Tanner asked, “Where do you suppose Leila went?”

“Home, I guess.”

“All the way back to Israel? That would take some time, things being what they are.”

“She’s already proven that she’s a patient woman.”

“You going after her?”

Mason had given the question a lot of thought while driving home. The whole situation struck him as something that could not be made right.

“No,” he said. “What’s done is done.”

Tanner nodded. “Good. There’s been enough killing.”

“What will you tell poor Samantha?” Issa asked, glancing at the bedroom door.

Mason slumped back into his chair, the past few days catching up to him at last.

“I suggest that we leave things as they are, for now at least. There’s no reason for her to have to lose her mother all over again.”

“But isn’t it better that she know the truth?”

“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s better if we let a twelve-year-old girl think about tomorrow, instead of yesterday.”

Issa smiled. “You’re right, of course. Still, someday she may discover the truth and seek revenge on her own. Samantha has a very strong spirit.”

“But a forgiving one too,” added Tanner.

Mason reached down to stroke Bowie’s head, and the dog’s tail began whapping against the wooden floor.

“If one day Samantha decides upon revenge, Bowie and I will go along to make sure she has her justice.”

“As will I,” said Tanner. “As will I.”

Mason stuffed a few final supplies into his backpack before pulling the drawstring tight. He hoisted the heavy bag over one shoulder and quietly stepped from the bedroom. The shades covering the cabin’s windows were pulled down, and only small rays of morning sunlight sparkled around their edges. It had been three weeks since his big fight at The Greenbrier, and the cut on his arm was now nothing more than a pink scar. Bowie, too, seemed to be fully recovered as he danced around in front of the cabin door, eager to get underway.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mason said softly, “I’m coming.”

He glanced toward the cabin’s other two bedrooms. No doubt Tanner, Issa, and Samantha were all still fast asleep. He nodded. It was better that way. Neither he nor his father were much for long goodbyes. He had already expressed his intention to leave the previous night, and there wasn’t much else to be said.

He walked quietly across the room and eased the front door open. Bowie quickly darted out, and Mason followed, pulling the door closed behind him. As soon as he turned around, he saw Tanner sitting in one of the rocking chairs, a blanket and shotgun resting across his lap.

“I figured you’d be asleep.”

Tanner yawned. “The older I get, the harder it is to sleep past sunrise.”

“That can be a good thing.”

“I suppose.” Tanner looked at Mason’s backpack. “You sure about this?”

“With Glass and Pike both gone, the country’s going to struggle to find its way. It seems only right that I help pick up the pieces.”

“Things are going to be how they’re going to be.”

“Perhaps, but I can’t sit by and watch everything go to hell.”

“Some might say that’s your misplaced sense of duty speaking again.”

Mason shrugged. “It’s who I am.”

Bowie moseyed over to Tanner and brushed against his legs.

“Keep my boy safe now, you big mutt, you hear me?”

Bowie tried to lick his face, but Tanner put a hand up in front of the dog’s mouth.

“Are you three planning to stay here?” said Mason.

“It’s as good a place as any to hole up.”

Mason extended his hand, but Tanner got to his feet and pulled him close.

“I love you, son. Don’t ever forget that.”

Mason felt a lump in his throat.

“I love you too, Dad.”

Tanner took a step back. “If you get in trouble, send word and I’ll come.”

“Like a runaway freight train, no doubt.”

Tanner grinned. “Like you said, it’s who we are.”

The curtains on the cabin’s front window pulled aside, and they both turned to see Samantha peeking out as she wiped sleep from her eyes. Mason nodded to her, and she offered a tentative wave.

“Any idea how long you’ll be gone?” asked Tanner.

“I can’t say for sure. A couple of months, maybe.”

“Do you know which way you’re headed?”

Mason looked off to the east.

“I thought I’d start by going over to Norfolk to see how the New Colony is faring.”

“Be careful. Whoever’s running the place won’t take kindly to you questioning his decisions.”

“I’ll walk softly.”

Tanner looked down at Mason’s Supergrade.

“All well and good, but keep that big stick handy too.”

“Always.”

Tanner lowered himself back into the chair, and the wood creaked like it might split at any moment.

“If we’re not here when you get back, I’ll leave a note under the boiler.”

“Fair enough.”

“Take care of yourself.”

“You do the same.”

It was as close to a tearful goodbye as either man wanted, and Mason took his leave. Bowie raced after him and, within seconds, they were in his F150, weaving their way down the winding driveway.

Samantha came out onto the porch to stand beside Tanner.

“Where’s he going?”

“To see if he can fix things.”

“Fix what?”

“The world, I guess.”

“Nobody can do that.”

“Maybe not, but he wants to try.”

She turned and watched the truck bounce its way down the long dirt driveway until it was finally out of sight.

“He’s a lot like you, isn’t he?”

Tanner smiled. “More than he’d like to admit.”

Mason shuffled his boots across the dirt, staring down at the pile of stones and the simple wooden cross pressed behind them. He felt a heaviness in his chest that couldn’t be put into words. Standing beside Ava’s grave reminded him of everything that had gone wrong. Despite all his efforts, President Glass had been murdered. Pike and Hood had both paid for their crimes, but at what price? The last remnants of the federal government had been wiped out. The United States of America was officially no more.

It was impossible to say what would come next. The three New Colonies would likely set themselves up as independent city-states, a far cry from any kind of national republic. They would almost certainly morph into feudal capitals, governed by whoever had the brightest ideas or, more likely, the firmest hand.

Mankind would survive, but not before it took a few more steps backward. One day, perhaps the country would reunite and rebuild, but certainly not in Mason’s lifetime. The simple truth was that it was going to get worse before it got better.

He took a knee in front of the grave and spoke softly, as if offering prayer.

“Ava, you once told me that you didn’t belong in this world, that there was too much violence and suffering in it.” He picked up one of the stones and rubbed his fingers across its smooth surface. “Maybe you were right. Maybe it is better that you’re not here to see the chaos that’s coming. But I, for one, will miss you.”

Bowie inched closer and leaned down to lick his hand.

Mason placed the stone back on the pile and reached over to stroke the dog’s head.

“Yeah, I know,” he said. “You’re with me to the end.” He stood up and dusted off his pants. “But we have a long, hard road ahead, so I hope you’re up for it.”

Bowie stared at him, his eyes wide with excitement.

“That’s what I thought.” Mason turned and started toward his truck. “Come on, boy. We’ve got work to do.”

Parting Comments

After more than fifteen hundred pages, this portion of the Survivalist has finally come to an end. Along the way, we explored antique theaters, Amish farms, secret tunnels, and hardened bunkers. We boarded prototype helicopters, forklifts, and garbage trucks. We learned how to find food, water, and fuel, not to mention how to hotwire a car and build a fertilizer bomb. We battled devil worshippers, road warriors, infected mutants, and ruthless mercenaries. We also shared in a few laughs, a little passion, and of course, plenty of dog slobber.

We met Mason, the gun-slinging hero who held duty above all else, Tanner, a man who could walk along the dark abyss without falling in, Samantha, a quirky, but lovable girl who changed every life she touched, and Bowie, the steadfast companion whose intelligence rivaled that of Lassie and Rin Tin Tin. I confess that I came to cherish each of these characters. Readers, too, had their favorites, some preferring the battle-tested lawman who knew right from wrong, others identifying with the violent convict who understood that survival often required splitting the difference.

We uncovered some hard lessons along the way, not the least of which was that we should all be better prepared. The world is a dangerous place, and despite assurances to the contrary, our safety is far from guaranteed. Liberty too should never be taken for granted. Freedoms are easy to surrender, but reclaiming them almost always requires the spilling of blood. Finally, we were reminded that having the right companion at one’s side, whether it be a young orphan girl or a one-hundred-and-forty-pound dog, can make any journey more enjoyable.

With all of the major conflicts resolved, the next installment of The Survivalist will find Mason, Bowie, Tanner, and Samantha starting on all new adventures. Together, we’ll explore the New Colonies, small bastions of civilization in a world that has disintegrated into chaos. We’ll meet evil in all new forms; men, women, and monsters that are worthy of our heroes’ talents. And of course, we’ll learn useful tricks for staying alive in a world where nothing comes easy. Surprises and adventures await, so I hope you’ll join me on the next phase of this post-apocalyptic saga.

Arthur T. Bradley

P.S. If you want to share your thoughts about the series, or simply nudge me to get busy on The Survivalist #8 (Dark Days), send an email to [email protected]

The Survivalist adventure continues with
Dark Days…