Sanctuary Read online

  Sanctuary

  Book 2 in The Omega Protocol Chronicles

  Courtney McPhail

  Copyright © 2016 by Courtney McPhail

  All rights are reserved to the author. No part of this ebook may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, character, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Book Cover by: RLSather

  PART 1

  PART 2

  PART 3

  PART 4

  To my father,

  Who gave me the gift of storytelling.

  In 2017, the course of human history was forever altered. A cataclysmic event, which would come to be known simply as The Infection, swept across the globe. The world population was decimated and civilization as it was known came to an end.

  Few records exist to document the early days of The Infection. These chronicles you hold now are the most comprehensive collection of first hand accounts of that time. They tell the story of those who took it upon themselves to ensure humanity’s survival.

  PART 1

  Subject File #742

  Administrator: You use the word hope a lot. Why is that?

  Subject: That comes from my mama. She always said that we came from a people who had survived centuries of oppression because they had hope we would overcome. As long as we never gave up hope, we would endure.

  “Is there any way I can request tomorrow’s route be planned on a paved road?”

  Malcolm Evans glanced in the rear view mirror where he could see Craig O’Neill laid out in the back of the station wagon. All the pillows, blankets and sleeping bags had been packed around him for extra cushioning but Malcolm could tell from the grimace on the young man’s face that it wasn’t helping much.

  They’d spent most of the day crossing through the Washington and Jefferson National Forests where most of the roads were nothing more than hard packed earth. That meant ruts and potholes and, no matter how carefully Malcolm navigated.

  “Sorry about that, man,” Malcolm said, “I’ll take it slower through here.”

  “Why don’t you take another pill?” Lorraine offered, shuffling from Craig’s side to where the medical supplies were piled on the rear bench seat.

  “I don’t want you to waste it on me,” Craig said but Malcolm could hear the barely restrained pain in his voice. The guy was trying to be brave and selfless which Malcolm admired but, having gone through the torture of healing from a bullet wound himself, he knew the kid was being stupid. Brave but stupid.

  But before Malcolm could insist Craig take the painkiller, Lorraine was already popping open the bottle and shaking out a dose.

  “We’ve got plenty to spare and I’m your nurse so you’re going to do what I say.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Craig said, promptly taking the pill and bottle of water she held out to him. “I’ll do whatever you tell me, Nurse Chambers.”

  Malcolm met Craig’s eyes in the rear-view mirror and the kid actually winked at him as he swallowed the pills. He was absolutely shameless and it surprised Malcolm that Lorraine hadn’t slapped him yet. Or taken him up on his very blatant offers, if that was what she was into.

  The kid clearly had it bad for his former neighbour/current nurse, taking any opportunity he had to hit on her while she did her best to ignore his advances.

  Malcolm wondered if it was just because of the age difference. His mama had raised him to never ask a woman’s age so he wasn’t positive but he pegged Lorraine somewhere in her forties, whereas Craig was still a couple of months shy of twenty.

  “So, fearless leader,” Craig called out as he settled back on his pillows, “You got any idea where we’re making camp for tonight?”

  “You find anything on the maps, Trey?” Malcolm asked the young man who shared the backseat with the medical supplies and their cache of maps.

  “Looks like we can stop anywhere along this road,” Trey replied. “We’ve got no towns marked along it for the next twenty miles and then it meets up with Highway 18.”

  “Alright folks, you heard the man, let’s keep an eye out for a good place to pull off,” Malcolm said, seeing Trey smile at the acknowledgement that he was a man.

  At sixteen, Trey was hovering on the edge of manhood and was ready to take that step forward. Of course, his mother wasn’t exactly keen on the idea of him making that step.

  Malcolm glanced over at Kim Hastings, who was riding shotgun. She looked radiant to him despite the lack of showers on the road. She had a yellow bandanna wrapped over her short black hair and the colour complimented her dark skin. Her brown eyes met his and she smiled at him before looking back down at the pair of pants she was patching up.

  The standard car games had lost their allure about two hours after they had left Shenandoah Park that morning. By the time they’d pulled over midday to top up the gas tanks with their meager supply, people were looking for something to keep them occupied in the cramped confines of the vehicles. Kim had asked if anyone needed anything mended and had set to work with the needle and thread kit she had found in the glove box.

  Malcolm noticed that she was sewing a patch of floral fabric on the seat of a pair of jeans.

  “Whose are those?” he asked her and she smiled.

  “Alan’s.”

  He laughed. “You know he’ll be pissed that you sewed a bunch of daisies on his ass, right?”

  “It’s not like we’ve got much choice when it comes to extra fabric. Pillow cases are about all we can spare,” she said but a devious smile still played on her lips. “If he doesn’t like it, he can always tear it off. Let his ass hang out instead.”

  “Gross,” Craig called out from the back. “No one wants to see that. Even Jenny doesn’t want to see that and she’s his wife.”

  “Craig, that’s not nice,” Lorraine chastised him.

  “What? Everybody knows their marriage is on the rocks. Been like that since we met them,” Craig said, the last words slurring a bit.

  Ah, the beauty of pharmaceuticals and their power to get someone to run at the mouth.

  “I think it’s best for all of us not to comment on anybody’s relationships,” Malcolm advised.

  Craig laughed at him. “You’re just worried that it means we’re talking about you and Kim. Don’t worry though, everybody thinks you guys are great. You’re like our own President and First Lady.”

  “And that makes you the First Son,” Craig said to Trey before his eyes widened and he looked over at Malcolm and Kim. “Are you guys going to have more kids because then you could have a First Daughter. That would be pretty cool. Do you guys need Secret Service agents because I could do it? I like the sunglasses they wear…they’re pretty cool too, you know, and…”

  Craig trailed off as he slumped back, the pills kicking in and knocking him out.

  There was a beat of silence before Trey leaned forward with a grin. “So are you guys planning on giving me a little sister or brother?”

  Malcolm glanced over at Kim, who was shaking her head, a smile playing on her lips. “Not anytime soon, little man.”

  “Good, I like being an only child.”

  The idea of having a child with Kim hadn’t entered his mind before, but now that it was there, Malcolm found he liked it. Of course, he’d keep that little epiphany to himself. They’d only known each other a couple of weeks, telling her he wanted to her have his baby was jumping the gun a bit.

  Then again, it was hard to jump the gun when it was already pointed at thei
r heads, ready to go off at any moment. Which should be a reminder that the last thing he needed was a pregnant Kim to worry about.

  The pandemic that had swept across the country had turned much of the population into cannibal freaks who were intent on tearing apart any living creature they could get their hands on.

  And then there were the people who had so far escaped the infection and were left to survive in this new world.

  After the altercation with the locals in Marysville that had left Travis, Alan’s brother, dead and Craig wounded, Malcolm wasn’t sure which group was more dangerous. At least the freaks had lost the brainpower to use guns. All they had to worry about with them was teeth and blood splatter.

  No, the uninfected were much more dangerous. He’d learned that in Marysville. Just as the freaks had lost their humanity thanks to the infection, those who survived had lost their humanity when society crumbled.

  It was the reason he was determined to push forward as fast as they could in order make it to the island. His former employment at the CIA had afforded him access to many things, including membership in the Omega Protocol. When the pandemic had hit and the government went dark, the call had gone out for all the members of the Omega Protocol to rendezvous on an island in the Great Lakes. It would be where the Agency would make a last stand and attempt to preserve the American way of life.

  He had promised the others he would get them there. It was the only place he knew they would be safe from both the freaks and the other survivors out to hurt them.

  Malcolm knew that, logically, there had to be survivors out there like them. Good people who were just trying to keep their loved ones safe. It was just that it would require trust to vet new people and that wasn’t something he thought he could spare right now. It was better--safer--for their group to avoid other people. He’d given the orders that the convoy was to stop for no one and any time they passed by the occasional home out here in the foothills, he held his breath in anticipation of an attack.

  Thankfully, the attacks never came and the strangers passed by without incident. If anybody was occupying those rural homes, they were probably more scared of their convoy of vehicles than anything else.

  He knew that they still had several hundred miles to go before they reached the island and eventually they’d be forced into larger towns in order to cross the rivers. The odds of them avoiding people then were low but he was going to try his damnedest to make it happen.

  They’d lost three people in Marysville and Malcolm had no intention of letting that happen again.

  “There’s a sign up ahead,” Kim said, leaning forward in her seat to try to read it. “Children of Christ Revival Church.”

  “Could be a good place to camp,” Malcolm said, hitting his blinker to signal the rest of the convoy that today’s journey was at an end. As they had planned, the two minivans and cube van that were following him pulled over to the side of the road while Malcolm turned the station wagon off the road and onto the church’s driveway.

  The driveway to the church was nothing more than tire ruts in the grass. They led from the gravel road to the simple clapboard building with shuttered windows and a tiny steeple nestled among the trees. Less than a dozen vehicles were parked in the small dirt lot in front of the church, the grime and dead leaves covering them telling him the vehicles had been there a while.

  He eased the station wagon to a stop facing the church and then shifted it into reverse, keeping his foot on the brake as he studied the building and its surroundings for any sign of movement. He hit the horn once, the sharp noise cutting through the quiet and causing Kim to startle beside him, even though she had known it was coming.

  They waited, eyes glued on the church door and Malcolm sensed Trey leaning forward to get a better look.

  “I don’t think anybody has been in there in a while,” Trey said, lifting a hand to point at the door. “There’s a bunch of leaves piled up at the bottom of the door which means it’s been awhile since it’s been opened.”

  “Good spotting,” Malcolm said, having noticed the same thing. “Seems safe so far. We’ll still have to check it out before we decide to stay though.”

  Malcolm hit the horn twice, the duo of short blasts the signal for the others to join them. As they pulled in the drive, Malcolm steered the wagon around the grass lot until it was facing the road again. If they needed to move out of here quick, they’d be ready to go. The two minivans pulled around to flank the station wagon, while the larger cube van was forced to park parallel to the rear of the vans due to the lack of manoeuvring room in the small lot.

  “We’ll check it out. Keep it running until you get the signal,” Malcolm told Kim and climbed out of the station wagon, removing his gun from its holster as Kim moved over to take his seat behind the wheel.

  He walked back to the rear of the cube van, using it for cover as he watched the church. The doors remained closed and the warm July air was still, only the sound of birds chirping and the distant murmur of flowing water coming to him. He spotted the tops of a couple large willow trees behind the church and he assumed they were on the banks of whatever small body of water was back there.

  There wasn’t any sign of a fence that enclosed the property which meant it wasn’t just the church they had to be worried about here. They would need to sweep the area, establish a perimeter and keep watch on it throughout the night. Even with all that, it was secluded and had fresh water they could use to refill their stores. It would be a serviceable camp.

  It still surprised him how easily he slipped back into his ops training. It had been almost fifteen years since he’d retired from the CIA and even longer since he had served in the Corps but the knowledge and experience had remained. All it had taken was the end of the world to pull it back to the surface.

  He heard the sound of car doors opening and he glanced over to see Alan Wakefield climbing down from the cab of the cube van. He had a checkered bandanna covering half his face but Malcolm was able to read the apprehension in his brown eyes. His eyebrows were drawn together and his pale complexion was even whiter than normal as he gave a last glance at the cab where his wife Jenny had slid into position behind the wheel.

  At six months pregnant, Jenny was a lot more vulnerable than the others. Add in the loss of his brother back in Marysville and Malcolm couldn’t blame Alan for his hesitation but he knew the man would stick to their agreed upon plan.

  Alan had learned from his mistake at the park. Letting his temper get the best of him had put them all in danger.

  If it hadn’t been for the training Malcolm had put the others through, they may not have made it out of that firefight alive. Alan seemed to appreciate the gravity of what the others had done for him and he was making an effort.

  Not to say that the guy couldn’t still be an asshole from time to time but he had accepted that he didn’t know everything and that he could learn from the others.

  As Alan gave Jenny one last look, they were joined by the other two members of the sweep team.

  Both Jackson Webber and Quinton Alpert were all business as they walked up to the cube van. They wore bandannas over the lower half of their faces and, with the guns in their hands, they looked like they had stepped out of some heist movie.

  “Alan, Quinton, sweep the tree line, make sure there’s nobody hiding back there,” Malcolm said and the men nodded. “Jackson and I will search the church.”

  Alan led Quinton around the cube van and crossed over to the trees along the side of the church, starting the clockwise sweep like Malcolm had taught him. Quinton easily fell into step with Alan, covering his back as they disappeared behind the trees.

  Malcolm silently signalled for Jackson to follow him and he walked towards the front of the church, putting his own bandanna in place over his mouth and nose. Though the fabric made him feel smothered, he knew he had to wear it.

  They had learned the hard way that the infection that turned humans into raving monsters was transmitted a lot ea
sier than they had first thought. Blood spatter could be as deadly as a bite from one of the marauding freaks.

  Three concrete steps led up to the door and they mounted them together, Jackson moving to the side of the door without instruction. As he flanked the other side, Jackson pounded a fist on the door and they waited, listening for any sound from inside but it was silent. Malcolm looked over at Jackson and gave him another nod and the man reached for the door handle and yanked it open.

  Malcolm twisted around to face the inside of the church, his gun at the ready as he peered inside. He barely had time to register the dim interior before the wind shifted direction and the stench of rotting corpses hit him like an eighteen wheeler. He gagged as he fought to keep his lunch down, his eyes burning and watering up.

  “Fuckin’ hell!” Jackson cursed as the smell hit him and sent him into a coughing fit.

  Malcolm blinked away the tears and levelled his gun on the open doorway again, searching for any movement inside but nothing stirred beyond the open door. Assured that there wasn’t any immediate threat lurking inside, he took a step back and hauled in a deep breath of the fresh air.

  He looked over at Jackson, who was looking a little green as he wiped away the tears that had filled his eyes.

  “We’re gonna need the respirators to go in there,” Malcolm told him and Jackson’s eyes bulged.

  “Ya still want to go in there? Ya can smell what we’re gonna find.”

  “We gotta make sure they're all dead,” Malcolm said. “There could be a freak hiding in there with them. We had one get the jump on us once because we didn’t check everywhere.”

  Three short whistles sounded, their all clear signal, and Alan and Quinton came around the right side of the church, weapons at their sides.

  “Nothing but squirrels around here,” Alan reported. “There’s a creek about fifty yards behind the church. It’s pretty bloated with spring rains; we should be safe with it at our back. Keep a semi-circle perimeter tonight and we should be fine.”