Omega Days (Book 2): Ship of the Dead by John L. Campbell Read Free Book Online Page A

into his hand and held it low, just out of sight behind his leg. Extremely tall and homely, nicknamed Troll by his now-fallen military comrades, he towered over the small Asian woman beside him.
    Margaret Chu checked the breech of her shotgun and put it to her shoulder, muzzle pointing at the pavement ten feet in front of her. In a short period of time she had gone from a passive, everyday person mildly afraid of firearms to a leader capable of more strength than even she thought possible. People looked to her for guidance and responded to her commands. Together, she and a man she had just met waited.
    The Harley’s powerful headlamp revealed the helicopter, two vehicles, and the people lined up between them. Evan slowed to an idle as he approached, stopping within shouting distance and climbing off with Maya.
    “Who are you?” a woman yelled.
    Evan held empty hands out to his sides. “My name is Evan Tucker; this is Maya. We saw the helicopter land.” Headlights and the metallic banging of a sick engine approached from behind. “Those people are with us, families and children, mostly. We came from Oakland.” He wasn’t sure what else to say.
    There was some conversation among the people by the chopper, and then a short woman with a shotgun and a tall man in a flight suit walked toward them. “I’m Margaret Chu; this is Vladimir.” No one shook hands. “We have children with us too, so we need to make sure everyone is respectful and careful with the firearms. Do you understand my meaning?”
    Evan nodded. No one wanted a mistake or sudden misunderstanding to end up in a close-range gunfight in front of a bunch of kids. “I’ll tell the others, if that’s okay?”
    Margaret nodded, and Evan squeezed Maya’s hand before jogging back toward the armored truck. Minutes later it was parked beside the Harley, and shortly after that Calvin’s hippies and Rosa’s boat refugees were mixing with the firehouse survivors. After some initial awkwardness, conversation took over. There was no aggression or suspicion, just frightened people finding others like themselves, relieved at the comfort that came from being in a large group of people with shared experiences. There was even some laughter, nervous at first, then genuine. Children from both groups found one another, and adults, strangers, stood together watching them play and interact, quietly marveling at their resiliency.
    Hungry people from Calvin’s group were given food from the Cadillac’s supplies, and the few refugees who smoked drew off to one side to share their own unique camaraderie. There was a naturalness to it all, almost a feeling that such a reunion with other survivors had been expected, and welcomed. Xavier stood to the side watching, and felt a small measure of reaffirmation in his fellow man’s capacity to care for one another in times of crisis. It was something he hadn’t seen in a long time.
    Xavier saw Carney, the armored truck’s driver, and his big friend TC speaking with the helicopter pilot. TC slumped his shoulders and shuffled away when he got the bad news. It was the behavior of a child, Xavier thought, at odds with his size and dangerous presence, and it worried the priest.
    “We need to tell them about the girl,” Rosa said, coming to stand beside him. “We have to tell them one of us is infected, or we’ll risk destroying this trust.”
    “How is she?”
    “The same. Fever, delirium. The condition of her eye bothers me.” Rosa checked her watch. “We’ll know in a few hours.”
    “I’ll tell them,” Xavier said, “when I think the time is right.” They were happy at that moment, sharing a breath of relief, all of them unsure of how long it would last. He wanted them to have that moment.
    “I’m going to get my bag,” the medic said, “start checking everyone over, Calvin’s group as well as these new folks. Will you keep an eye on the girl?”
    Xavier said he would, and went to the rear of the truck as Rosa