Beyond the Brink_Toward the Brink IV

  Beyond the Brink

  Toward the Brink Book IV

  Craig A. McDonough

  BEYOND THE BRINK

  Toward the Brink IV

  CRAIG A. MCDONOUGH

  Copyright © 2016 by Craig A. McDonough

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Also by Craig A. McDonough

  Introduction

  The previous three books in the Toward the Brink series followed the exploits of a small band from Twin Falls, Id. and their attempts to escape, find a sanctuary and survive. The general focus of the first three stories was the “uncertainty” but also on the determination of the group. Luckily knowledgeable and skilled individuals came along for the ride to help with the sometimes-haphazard plans. Individuals such as Chuck Black - aka the Tall Man, Riley Mulhaven, Kath Goodwin, Chess, and even the president of the United States himself, Elias Robert Charles.

  And of course, we cannot leave Elliot out. From a teenager coming to grips with the loss of his mother, to the hero of the journey he was thrust upon. And what a journey it has been.

  The road (Toward the Brink) has been well worn and littered with the bodies of many—brave, cowardly, innocent and inhuman. This, the fourth volume in the saga takes a new direction and has therefore been given the title of; Beyond the Brink: Toward the Brink IV. I Hope you enjoy it.

  Craig A. McDonough.

  www.craigmcdonough.com

  Chapter One

  Sandspit 1

  The aftermath of the battle of Sandspit, as it was now being called, was particularly gruesome. The dawn sun shone upon a scene that wouldn’t have been out of place on the frozen battlegrounds during the siege of Stalingrad. Almost two dozen bodies of the rogue Terrace soldiers littered the surroundings of the wholesale fish market, but there were many more foamers. The dawn cast an eerie sight around Sandspit Harbor and the hills just above. Dark sections of rock and tree trunks were juxtaposed against the pristine snow in a landscape that looked like a patchwork quilt. Sandspit, in the Haida Gwaii archipelago, was colder than a beer in an Australian pub at night and didn’t improve any in the daylight hours. With no flies in this climate, the low temperature would act as cold-storage and keep the bodies from decomposing—at least until spring. All good news for the survivors, for there were more immediate matters which required their attention.

  Doom cast a long shadow over the survivors, which started when Elliot, Cindy, and Riley were thrown together all those years ago. Or at least it certainly felt that long.

  The joy of discovering a secluded haven was shattered with the appearance of foamers. There weren’t as many as other occasions, and apart from their all-white eyeballs, they were still the same foam-spewing undead—and just as dangerous. While they fought to defend their fish market fortress, assistance came from an unexpected quarter. This relief, though short-lived and with an ulterior motive, most likely saved them. The rogue forces from Terrace descended upon Sandspit, their concentrated M249 light machine-gunfire on the foamers turned the tide against the abominable horde.

  But it wasn’t a rescue.

  With the foamers out of the way, the Terrace force redirected their attacks on the survivors in the fish market. More horrific than the foamer or paramilitary attack was the injury to Chuck, the hero of the battle—the Tall Man. He was the only casualty suffered by the survivors inside the fish market. It became evident they weren’t to be rescued, but exterminated. The rogue force was over-confident, allowing Elliot, Chess, and company to regroup for a swift counter—attack. The Terrace force didn’t stand a chance against the more experienced soldiers. But one man, Richard Holmes, escaped in one of the boats they arrived in.

  By mid-morning, a few hours after the attack, the once-termed “Twin Falls Survival Group” gathered in the main hall of the market. Except for Kath, who kept a watchful eye on Chuck, and four men posted as guards outside.

  “I think first, we have to consider what to do with the bodies outside,” Bob Charles, the former president, began. Always considered a great orator throughout his political career, he was the obvious choice to chair the meeting. And Elliot was happy he did.

  “What about Chuck? Shouldn’t we try to find help for him?” Allan said. While Elliot looked to Chuck like a brother, for Allan he was more a mentor.

  “It's not like we can rush him the nearest ER, Allan,” Bob said.

  “The president's right, young man,” Sergeant Morris, said as he joined the others. “Now he’s getting the best attention we can give him.”

  “But what if he…he—”

  “He’s not, Allan. Don’t even think it!” Elliot was quick to quash that thought. “Our priorities, as far as they are here on this island, haven’t changed. We must establish a safe shelter and ration food and water until we get established. I think we need to do a sweep of the entire island. Every structure, make sure it’s foamer-free. We can’t start our gardens or generators until we get rid of the foamers.”

  “I agree with Elliot,” Chess, who stood alongside the Twin Falls survivor, said. “And it shouldn’t be too difficult. There aren't that many structures, and if we conduct the raids in daylight, we should be safe.”

  Elliot was impressed with Chess’ conduct during the assault—the others were too.

  “I think some of you have concerns about health issues with all the bodies, but let me assure you the outside temperature has frozen all of them, and there's no need to worry just yet. I’m sure we can get them moved to a single location if necessary.” Sergeant Morris addressed the matter before he returned to the office room and his patient.

  “Yes, we’ll need to set out work details with strict timelines. We can’t overwork any one group,” Bob stated firmly, before he moved to the next item to be discussed. “We’ve all been through a ride to hell, and it's far from over. Our friend, Chuck—the man who has risked his life for many of us—lies in the room beyond. He was wounded in a dash to secure more ammunition for our defense. His condition is serious, I won’t hide that from you. But information has come our way of another threat. A threat more devastating than the foamer menace—if that’s at all possible. I’ll let Elliot fill in the details for you.”

  Elliot blinked hard—he thought the former president was going to reveal the full extent of the situation they faced and was surprised when introduced. It took a moment, before he realized Bob wanted everyone to know; Elliot led the way.

  “Thanks, Bob,” Elliot said in a raspy voice as he looked around at all the faces. Along with Bob, Riley, Tom, Chess, and James, Elliot was part the leadership group. Chuck and Kath were part of that team too, but for obvious reasons weren’t present. What was commendable about this group was no one had assumed themselves to be in a leadership position. Leadership was granted by those who recognized and trusted their decisions. At different times, if the situation called for it, any one of the group could be looked upon as a leader.

  “I won’t go into all the technical details because I’m not so sure of them myself.” Elliot grinned sheepishly. The dark gray inter
ior walls of the fish market added to the gloom. “This emergency has to be addressed, and fast. As we are the only people aware of it, we must do it. It presents more of a danger to our survival than the foamers or rogue militants. And we have to act right away—this very moment.”

  Elliot paused a moment to let the information sink in. There was a lot to consider; nothing was ever easy when it came to survival.

  “What’s the nature of this other emergency, Elliot?” James Goodwin asked. More than anyone, he could recognize the gravity of his son’s concerns.

  “No, Dad. It involves the possibility that some, but not all, nuclear missile silos weren’t shut down before the country was overrun by foamers.”

  A murmur went through the gathered as questions were asked of whoever stood closest. No one at this stage grasped the significance of Elliot’s explanation.

  “Ladies, gentlemen, everyone. Please listen for a moment.” Bob stepped next to Elliot, and with his baritone voice, took control.

  “What does this have to do with us, I mean…?” David Grigsby asked the obvious question on everyone’s mind.

  “Tom informed us that unless certain actions are taken—and soon—then there is a strong possibility these missiles could launch.”

  “Err, I’m kind of lost as well,” Gulf War veteran and senior member of the group Riley joined. “As disastrous as it sounds, what are the implications for us—unless this island is the target?”

  “If I may, sir?” Tom stepped forward to answer. Everyone noticed he still addressed the Bob as, sir. “Let me sum it up. The system which would cause the missiles to launch is an automated one. Protected by its own power generator, it doesn’t need anyone to push the red button as it were. The danger to us will be from the Russian—and I presume Chinese—reaction. They also have automated systems, and will launch a response the moment any missiles are detected by their satellites. I assume these to be operational as we don’t know what the devastation is in those countries.”

  The main hall of the market fell quiet as the full impact hit everyone. After a tense, few seconds—which seemed like minutes—Samantha Jones broke the silence. “How can these missile bases and satellites have the power to do this? I mean we can’t even switch lights on?”

  “Solar generators. They were designed specifically to keep the bases operational in the event of a missile strike or even natural disaster, like an earthquake,” Tom said. “Remember, it's not so much the power infrastructure has collapsed, it’s just that there aren't any people alive to run the equipment. Right there is the cause for most breakdowns.”

  Elliot took an interest in everyone's expressions. Confusion and concern were present, but panic didn’t appear to be. Completely understandable, of course. When you’ve been on the run from—and fighting—hordes of undead beasts, it takes more than just the possibility of a nuclear missile launch to faze you.

  “We can discuss the technical side later, but what’s important now is we have to move on this, and move fast.”

  “And how are we supposed to prevent this from here?”

  “Well, Allan, it’s like this. Tom believes there’s an override command for all missile silos located inside the Pentagon, and that's where we’ll send a small team.”

  “Elliot, do you know how long it will take to get back to Washington?” Cindy, who had been quiet all this time, asked.

  “Three days at the most, we think.”

  Bewildered and shocked looks were exchanged.

  “There’s an airport just above us, and there might be a small plane like a Cessna or a Piper Cherokee. We take four or five men and if we can find fuel, we can get there. A few stops along the way, but we can. If there’s no plane here, we’ll have to take the cat back to the mainland and search the airports there until we do. This is not something we can let up on.”

  “And who’s to fly this plane, should we find one?”

  “You are, Ewen,” Elliot answered. “We’ll take you and another pilot. Tom, you’re coming along too. I need one more volunteer.”

  “Elliot, you’re needed here, you can’t—”

  “I have no other choice, Cindy.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Chess offered. “You’re going to need at least two to act as security.”

  “I agree, but I’d rather have you here with Riley. The two of you can conduct the search-and-destroy patrols and clean out the infestation on the island.” Elliot also wanted Chess here while Chuck was down. “What say you, Tristan? Interested?”

  “Yeah, sure. I’ll come along.”

  “Okay, it’s—”

  Cindy grabbed Elliot’s hand and pulled him back to the entrance. “You can’t be serious. You can’t leave, not after what happened to Chuck. We need you here.” Cindy could be heard by everyone present. “I need you!”

  “And I need you, but if we’re to have a shot at surviving this mess, then we have to go. I can’t tell others to do what I’m not prepared to do myself.”

  “But—”

  “No, Cindy, there are no buts!” Elliot raised his voice, his frustration growing. This action would be imperative to her safety. Why couldn’t she see that?

  Cindy moved closer, and Elliot put his arms around her shoulders. “It will be all right, and I’ll be back in no time. You’ll see.”

  “You better be, because you don’t want to miss the arrival of our child.”

  “What? What did you say?”

  “Our child, Elliot. I’m pregnant.”

  Sandspit 2

  Elliot turned and stared wide-eyed at Cindy before he took her by the wrist he led her out front. “Take over please, Bob.” His Ruger Redhawk was strapped to his leg, but the four guards outside would be the first line of defense in any attack.

  “Elliot, please don’t be a complete dork and ask, ‘how did this happen?’ because I think you know how,” Cindy said as soon as he shut the door behind him.

  “But…we used a condom!”

  “We used three, but not all at once.”

  Elliot wasn’t impressed with her quip, nor her obvious excitement. There would be serious consequences to this decision, which she hadn’t considered. Of that he was sure.

  “Of all times to have a baby, this is, without a doubt, the most inopportune time ever.”

  Elliot’s concern was for Cindy. He couldn’t see any possible argument to bring a child into this world.

  “Well, condoms aren’t one hundred percent safe, which we both know. And if you’re wondering how I know…” Cindy took a step closer when she saw one of the guards approaching. “I brought a pregnancy test kit with me. Never mind where I found it.”

  “Hey, Elliot, Cindy…is the meeting over?” Rob Mitchell, the former Secret Service agent, came up the path toward the entrance.

  “No, we just stepped out for some fresh air.”

  “It is fresh, that's for sure.” A puff of steam rose from Mitch’s mouth in the crisp air as he spoke.

  “You might want to check with Riley, should be time for a change in guards.” Elliot wasn’t concerned with a personnel change, he just wanted to continue his conversation with Cindy—in private. “And there’s hot coffee and tea inside.”

  The promise of a warm beverage hurried Mitch up a step or two.

  “Okay, great. I’ll check with Riley first. The next shift can inform the other guys,” Mitch pulled his aviator-style sunglasses off and winked at Elliot, “I’m gonna get me a cup of Joe!”

  “The big question is what do we do now?” Elliot continued the moment Mitch went inside.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, surely you’re not—”

  “DAMN RIGHT I AM, ELLIOT GOODWIN!”

  “Shh, shh! Keep your voice down.”

  “What’s the matter, are you embarrassed I’m pregnant?”

  “No, no, not at all. I mean—I mean… Oh shit, I don’t know what the hell I mean.”

  “I understand, truly I do. I’m as shocked as you. But it's our ba
by and in this nightmare, where we've lost so many lives and others have turned into rotten walking dead, new life is a chance at a new hope. At least that’s what I think. I believe we have an excellent opportunity to raise our child here on this island once we settle and secure it.”

  “But didn’t you hear the threat of nuclear devastation? It concerns us. All of us. It won’t matter a shit whether the island is secure from foamers or rogue soldiers or whatever, we’ll be fried from any nearby blast, or die from radiation poisoning. You can’t tell me this is an ideal environment to raise a child in. Can you?”

  “And that's exactly why a team must go back to Washington, right? To stop it from happening. Let Chess handle it, he’s qualified. These people need you, Elliot. We need you.” Cindy emphasized her last words with a light tap on her abdomen.

  Elliot looked along the pathway, to the evergreen shrubs planted there, to the pile of bodies from the assault, then out to the Sandspit bay where the catamaran sat, before resting his eyes on hers again. He loved her deeply. And inside, he was elated over the prospect of having a child… but in these times?

  Barely a day went by Elliot didn’t question whether they would make it. Anyone who wanted to bring a child into this world had to be crazy. Just crazy.

  “Cindy, we’re in a nightmare of undead and who knows what else. We’re close to the brink, and if those missiles launch, we’ll be beyond it!”

  “Then get Chess on it and prevent it from happening!”

  Elliot heard the desperation in her voice. Staying behind would be right for any soon-to-be father, and was his natural urge. But the overall nature of the emergency demanded he lead the team to Washington and prevent the doomsday launch.