THE LAST OF THE TWENTY: Book II - The Quest

Chapter One: First Camp

“Dad.” Nathan shook him gently awake.

Miller instinctively picked up his Photon Energy Particle Accelerator rifle beside him. “What is it?” Miller at forty-four, looked as if he was only ten years his son’s senior. 

“Someone or something is moving outside.” His eighteen-year-old multi-racial eldest explained to him.

Miller could see the fear in his face. He turned to Mobile Command Station 1-24. “1-24, what are you detecting?” Miller put on his helmet which had short range infrared. He used his HUD display on his visor to scan down through the walls. “Deer?”

“Yes, Miller, a family of deer.” MCS 1-24 confirmed.

Miller took off his helmet and put a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Deer, you woke me for deer? I told you that before we made camp here that 1-24 scanned that the closest nest was twenty miles south of us. If they were prune faces, or zackaries, 1-24 would have detected them miles out from our position. Go hit the sack; we need to do at least another ten hours tomorrow.”

“I wish we could have taken the horses.” Nathan calmed down.

“And where would we be able to keep them safe at night?” Miller laid back down on his bedroll. “We can defend ourselves from second floor positions. Can you imagine horses in this room with us?”

“No, Pop.” Nathan put down his PEPA and laid down in his own bedroll. “Just rather be riding than walking.”

“As would I; it would double the distance we make per day, if we took the horses.” Miller pointed to the military grade robotic mule. “At least we have the S-Met and 1-24 to carry our packs and extra gear. Be glad for that. Now go to sleep.”

Three Hours Later

“Miller. Wake up, Miller.” 1-24 nudged Miller awake with one of his mechanical arms.

“More deer?” Miller sat up and looked at the faceless bi-camera head of the machine.

“No, Miller, I would not wake you for deer.” 1-24 responded. “I am not a first-generation MCS, which you already know.”

“My apologies.” Miller put on his helmet and armed himself with his PEPA. He scanned with his HUD display on his visor. I am only picking up raccoons, an owl, and rabbits. “What are you detecting?”

“I have picked up a pack of prune faces five miles out.” 1-24 reported. “They are heading in our direction.

“Isn’t that beyond the range of their nest?” Miller stood and looked out the second story glassless window of the abandoned brick building. “They are still too far out for my helmet sensors to pick them up.”

“I do not have inferior combat helmet sensors.” 1-24’s tone was a bit annoyed.

“It was not what I meant. I am only stating I cannot detect them, 1-24. Of course I trust your sensors.”

“As you should.” 1-24 huffed.

“Why are you being so sensitive? I just don’t understand why they would be moving this far out from their nest.” Miller looked at the time stamp on his HUD it read, ’03:05.’ “They are risking getting caught in the sunlight before they can get back to the safety of the darkness of their nest.”

“True, but they are not heading back, they are continuing to head this way.” 1-24 replied.

Miller shook his head, “It doesn’t make any sense? They cannot safely venture out further than four and half hours from their nests, to give them enough time to return before sunrise.”

“We have noted that each generation of prune faces are devolving in intelligence. Perhaps this group has no sense of the serious mistake they are making?” 1-24 hypothesized.

“Or they have another nest near us that they can hold up in?” Miller suggested as he did a deeper scan of the area around them.

“That is a possibility. But I would bet on their decline of intelligence. It is getting to the point of being self-destructive.” 1-24 also scanned the local area. “I am not picking up any possible locations for a nest near us. Unless… unless you want to consider our location.”

Miller looked down and scanned the structure below them. “The underground garage?”

“It would be dark enough for them.” 1-24 stated.

“Sunrise is before O-five-hundred and thirty hours this time of year.” Miller pointed out.

“Yes it is,” confirmed 1-24. “They are already past their point of return, they must trek forward. Yet at their current rate of travel they will most likely not reach the underground garage in time.”

“Perhaps you are right. They are mentally devolving.” Miller acknowledged. “I am going back to sleep. I can use the extra hours before they get here. Wake us both up when they are a quarter mile out from our position.”

“Will do.” 1-24 maintained his surveillance of the approaching pack of twenty-six prune faces.

Two Hours Later

1-24 woke Miller and Nathan, “They are a quarter of a mile out.”

Miller put on his helmet and checked the time on his HUD. It read ‘05:00’ He then looked to the eastern horizon. He knew the sun would not be rising for at least thirty minutes. “How long until they get here?”

“Ten minutes. They are picked up their pace.” 1-24 reported.

“Who is picking up their pace?” Nathan picked up his PEPA. He did not have a reclaimsman’s helmet like his father.

Miller’s helmet sensors were now able to pick up the group in the woods, heading towards them from the south. “Prune faces, a group of twenty-six. It seems they should reach our location just before sunrise.”

“I would not have expected them to be able to calculate the time so precisely.” 1-24 sounded confused.

“They are hustling, their internal clocks are still working, and they know they will be cutting it short.” Miller aimed his weapon out the window; lifting his helmet’s visor he used the multi-spectrum scope on the PEPA. “I got them.”

“I got them too.” Nathan squatted at the other southern window and used the scope on his rifle. “They are moving fast.”

“Wait until they emerge from the trees. Make your shots count.” Miller ordered the young man. “Focus on the ten on the right I will take out the sixteen on the left. Hit them as soon as you have a clear shot. Remember to squeeze, do not jerk on the trigger.”

“I know how to shoot, Dad.”

“You never killed a prune face that is charging at you. It is not the same as hitting a stationary target back on our firing range. Just remember what I taught you. Aim for their chests, dead center. Do not try for head shots.” He reminded him.

“I know. I know.” Nathan repeated.

Miller could see the small amount of sweat on his son’s forehead as he steadied his breathing he focused on the lead human mutant in his section. “Relax. Let them come to us.”

“I am relaxed.” Nathan took another deep breath.

“Good.” Miller turned from the teenager and focused down his scope.

He could hear Nathan take the first shot. “Got him!” Nathan took a second shot, “Damn! Missed.”

Miller took out the first fourth-generation prune face that was most likely only fifteen years old, but looked as if it were seventy or more. Unlike his directions to his son, he took headshots as soon as the creatures poked their heads from the tree line from the other side of the deserted roadway.

Their taking down the leading mutants caused the others to withdrawal back into the woods. The remaining prune faces, taking cover halted their advance. They were losing valuable time to reach the darkness of the underground garage before sunrise. They finally in a desperate attempt all bolted forward to reach the building.

Miller could hear Nathan increase his rate of fire as he took out four more of the mutated humans. It was at that moment the sun began to rise from the east.  The creatures screamed in pain as they covered their eyes from the sunlight. Blinded they stumbled forward desperate to reach the safety of the underground garage’s darkness. Nathan and Miller gave them no quarter and systematically took out the remaining members of the group.

Miller looked down from their position. They had taken out every last one of them. Those hit by Nathan, their chests were smoldering from the softball sized holes his photon energy shots had burnt through them.

“You said to aim for their chests.” Nathan protested as he looked at his father’s headless victims.

“I said for you to aim for their chests.” Miller stood from his squatting position. “You did well, Nathan, proud of you.”

Nathan also stood as he placed a fresh energy pack into his PEPA before slinging it over his shoulder.

“You took out how many?” he asked.

“I took out the ten you told me to; the ones approaching on our left.”

“And how much of your energy pack did you use up?” his father questioned.

“90%” Nathan answered as he inserted the spent energy pack into 1-24, so its mini thorium-reactor could recharge it.

“I took out the remaining sixteen.” Miller looked at the energy indicator on his rifle. “I used less than 50% of my energy pack.” Miller also slung his weapon.

“Ok, I missed more often. I get your point.” Nathan’s pride in his shooting was replaced with slight disappointment.

“You still did extremely well.” Miller went up to his son and rubbed the top of his head messing up his hair slightly. “Who loves you?”

“Mom, Aunt Nora, Aunt Tina, Grandpa… and all my siblings.”  He then looked at MCS-1-24. “I think 1-24 loves me too, in his own way.”

“I do.” Confirmed 1-24, “within my limitations to feel love.”

“You seem to have forgotten someone.” Miller was slighted by his son’s omission.

“You, Pop. I know you love me, Pop.” Nathan smiled at his father.

Chapter Two – Crossing the Hudson

Four Days Later

Breaking camp on the second floor of what once was, seventy years ago, doctors’ offices; they rolled up their sleeping bags and packed them onto the robotic mule. After tying down his roll, Nathan grabbed two of his mother’s nature bars from one of the mule’s cargo bags. He ripped open the paper wrapping with his teeth. He took one bite of his mother’s homemade nature bars. He savored the mix of raisins, wheat grain, hazel nuts, and northern pecans baked together with pure honey. He handed the second bar to his father.

“Once we cross the Hudson, how many days until we reach Princeton?” Nathan asked 1-24.

“If we can continue to make at least ten miles a day, we should reach there in eight days.” The mobile command center responded.

“And if we had the horses?” Nathan followed up.

“We would be able to do at least twenty miles a day, so half the time; four days.” The machine calculated.

“Are you still going on about the horses?” Miller opened the wrapper of the nature bar made by his eldest wife. “You volunteered to go on this mission with me. You knew we would be walking.”

“Yeah, I did, but I didn’t expect so much non-stop walking.” His son responded between chews of the bar.

“We need to see if Shelter Five survived, if their Reclaimsmen group was successful. We have to get there and back before harvest and our planting the winter wheat.” Miller explained again. “At only ten miles a day we are taking a stroll. If it were just me and the robots I could easily be doing fifteen miles a day. Do you want us to pick up our pace? Do you think you can keep up?”

“Ok, ok, you don’t need to repeat yourself, Pop.”

“Then I really don’t want to hear about the horses anymore. You made your choice. You knew how we would be traveling. See it through and stop whining.”

“I am not whining. I was just curious.” Nathan finished the last of his bar.

“Is your curiosity now satisfied, young Mr. Miller?” 1-24 inquired.

Nathan slung his PEPA rifle over his shoulder, “It is, it is.”

12:00

They stood on the Eastern side of the still standing Tappan Zee Bridge that spanned the mighty Hudson River.

“At least it is still standing.” Miller pointed out as he checked the span with the sensors of his helmet. He looked up at the sun at its zenith. He then looked again at the bridge noticing that weeds were growing in the roadway and there were clear signs of corrosion and rust on the steel structure and steel support cables. “How is it structurally?” he asked 1-24.

1-24 did a deep structural scan of the bridge. “I wouldn’t drive an eighteen-wheeler across it. But it is intact enough to handle our weights.”

“Eighteen-wheeler?” Nathan looked to his father.

“They were large heavy transport vehicles that hauled freight containers across the nation’s roads.” Miller was surprised that Nathan had never learned about them from his home lessons.

“Oh, you mean a truck, a tractor trailer?” Nathan understood.

“Yes, young Mr. Miller.” 1-24 confirmed.

“That reminds me of something, I have never understood. Since we left the homestead, why have we not found abandoned vehicles on the roads? We have seen shells of vehicles rusting away, but seemingly parked, not on the roadways themselves.”

“When the tailor targeted virus hit, it did not kill instantly. People would not be out driving when they got ill. They died in hospitals or in their homes. Those that did not die but mutated did not drive or use any modern machinery.” 1-24 informed him.

“They would state that they religiously believed in embracing Mother Nature.” His father elaborated, “But I think that was an excuse. The reality was, and still is, the virus rotted their minds so much they could not cognitively use, and more importantly, maintain technology. Even their use of language has degraded as the virus rapidly aged them." Miller stop to think then turned to 1-24, "What is it called again... when the brain deteriorates with age?”

"Becoming forgetful, Pop. You sure you’re not getting it, old man?" Nathan teased him.

"Neurodegeneration, dementia, Alzheimer's disease, senile..." 1-24 listed off the terms.

“Ha ha." he faked laughed at Nathan's slight, "Their lack of cognitive abilities was replaced by a cult like passion to force others to be infected, and for those that refused, to be torn apart limb by limb.”

“Spreading the faith by the sword is the analogy I would associate it with.” 1-24 added, “Although mutants do not use swords.”

“I know all that. I learned that in my lessons. I just thought we would find some abandoned vehicles on the roads, not all parked.”

“Nope. The roads were largely empty by the time the virus reached peak infection. Civilians were also ordered to stay off the roads; so emergency and military vehicles could travel on them unhindered.”

“Actually, I never realized that before,” admitted Miller, “The fact is I rarely came across abandoned vehicles on the roads. The roads were mostly clear in my travels, before I settled with your mother and aunts. Except for the times I came across abandoned military check points that had attempted and failed to fight off the mutant hordes.”

“Like where you found 1-24?” Nathan adjusted the weight of the PEPA on his shoulder.

“I am not a vehicle.” 1-24 protested as his double cameras on its telescopic neck swiveled to stare down upon the robotic mule behind him, “That is more like a vehicle. I am not a vehicle.”

“I am an all-terrain military robotic mule.” The other machine repeated its programmed self-identification.

“We did not ask.” 1-24 chastised the much less intelligent machine.

“No, they didn’t have any vehicles at that defensive position.” Miller started to lead them across the bridge.

Thirty-Five Minutes Later

For the past seventy years the power plants have long been silent, not a single car, truck, or bus has run their engines, no planes or helicopters have flown above. The woods of the northeast have grown back with a vengeance. After walking for over a half an hour they reached the mid-point of the three mile long bridge. The Hudson River flowed one hundred and thirty-nine feet below them. Looking south down the river Nathan stopped walking.

“What is it?” Miller stopped too.

Nathan pointed to the tall structures thirty miles away on the eastern bank of the river. “Is that New York City?”

Miller approached his son and stood next to him and looked south, “That was New York City. Now it is the largest nest of prune faces in the northeast.”

“It is where your shelter is. Where you were born and raised.” Nathan did not look at his father; instead he un-slung his PEPA and peered through the scope to get a better view of the distant skyline.

“Shelter One, which is under what once was Columbia University.” Miller sighed deeply, “It too is now just another nest.”

“Miller we have a problem.” 1-24 interrupted them.

“What?”

“I am picking up an abandoned fortified military barricade at the far end. It seems they tried to cut off exiting or entering the bridge.” The machine answered.

“How is that a problem? It’s abandoned.” Nathan re-slung his weapon over his shoulder.

“It will delay our getting off the bridge. And I am picking up occupied nests in several of the basements of the buildings on the opposite side. We may not have enough time to get through their area before they wake.”

“How many?” Miller asked as he continued walking to the western end of the bridge.

“Three-hundred and thirty-three. We would need to breech the barricades and make it past their nests fast enough to get beyond their range.” 1-24 ran its treads as it followed Miller.

Miller looked at his HUD’s time display ’12:35’ “When is sunset?”

“20:02 hours.”

“That gives us over seven hours to get past them.” Miller stated picking up his pace slightly.

Nathan and the mule also quickened their speeds to keep up with Miller and 1-24.

13:00

They stopped as they clearly spotted the barrier that blocked their approach to the western end of the bridge. Standing fourteen feet high, it was built with stacks of wire-meshed composite fabric bales filled with earth and gravel. A row of five foot tall HESCO bales were stacked atop a much larger row of nine foot high bales.

“Are those human skulls?” Nathan un-slung his weapon.

Miller used the sensors of his helmet to examine the human skeleton remains. “They are.” He then did a sweep of the area just before the barricade. His helmet’s sensors were detecting piles of skulls, femurs, pelvis, tibias, humeri, and mandibles.

MCS 1-24 did a much more thorough sweep “I am picking up the bones of 2,348 individuals; women, men, and children. “There are more remains on the other side of the barriers, along with tens-of-thousands of spent cartridges, and hundreds of discarded automatic weapons.

“I don’t see any breeches in their barricade. The horde that hit them on this side of the wall was clearly fended off.” Miller scanned the seventy-year-old battlefield. “They must have been hit by an unexpected wave of prune faces from the west.”

“I am not picking up any MCS units. That would explain their being caught off guard to a second horde to their rear.” As 1-24 rolled forward the sound of bones being crushed under its treads were disturbingly heard.

“We might be able to climb over those, but the robots would not be able to.” Nathan pointed out.

“No, they would not be able to. And I do not want to continue without them.” His father stated.

“Can the PEPA’s blast through that?” Nathan asked.

“If you both concentrate your fire you could but you will have to spend at least two energy packs each to create a big enough hole for me and the mule to get through.”

“And hundreds of prune faces in the basements of those ruins on the other side. I don’t feel good about us depleting that many energy packs, just before a possible major firefight. We won’t have enough time to recharge before nightfall.” Miller tried to think of another option.

“Could we somehow build a ramp to get them both over the wall?” Nathan suggested.

Miller looked around them, “From what?”

“I was just thinking.”

“I like that. I like it when you think.” Miller rubbed the top of his son’s head. “Thinking is a good thing.”