Kingdom of Monsters by John Schneider (microsoft ebook reader .TXT) 📗

she wouldn't have been in 'protective custody' on KT-day, and likely would have been home in LA when that city was totally and utterly smashed into the ground and then dumped into the ocean.

So, she was lucky that way.

Sally had learned to look for the positive spin where she could find it.

For better or worse, she was now committed to her new station.  For more reason than one.

She had already tried to run.

Almost exactly one month ago, when her chopper first touched down on top of the mountain, she had just hopped out and taken off into the woods.

It was the first time in two years she hadn't been surrounded by at least a dozen soldiers – it was a transport craft with one pilot and two snoozing troops – landing on a brand-new base – a staging area for supplies and equipment before transferring down into the caverns under the Mount.

When that chopper hit the tarmac, Sally had simply jumped and run before anyone could move to stop her.  She fled into the woods, like a dog escaping its kennel.

Within two days, she was back at the Mount – rescued was the word they used – probably accurate enough, all things considered.  But she still remembered that rush of freedom.  After two years.

She had not, however, fully appreciated all that waited outside the safety of these supposedly imprisoning walls.

Rhodes had been disturbed that she'd tried to run.

Sally expected him to be angry, and had been quite afraid of his reaction, but he actually seemed to feel badly – like dealing with a daughter who ran away from home, and struggling to make sense of it, knowing this should be where people ran to, not away from.

Although, word-of-mouth that drifted through the Mount suggested that, in many places, people had done just that.  In some spots, as military installations became known, survivors in the surrounding areas had appeared in significant numbers.  There weren't many from the cities, where the initial blooms of giants were concentrated, but out in the sticks, there were those who had managed to hole-up through the worst of it.

Resources for refugees were limited, particularly in the outlying outposts.

It was said that, in several instances, push had come to shove.

Sally was learning military dead-pan.

It was a brass-shield against hard-core reality.  Rights were not determinant anymore – scientific recommendation was now dictate – the justifiable priority being the survival and repopulation of the human race.

Sally, who was just entering her second trimester, was what Rhodes called their 'most precious asset'.

He had told her this in his office after she had tried to run.  His eyes were hard as he said it, because while he might try to understand why she ran, it still could not be tolerated.

Sally remained unsure of his motivations.  While he had mentioned a daughter, he never spoke about any wife.  Sally had no idea what any of that meant long-term, but there was no going back now.

Rhodes didn't know why Sally had run that day.  And while he seemed to have forgiven her, was even apologetic, she wondered how he'd have reacted if he'd really known.

As her transport chopper had sailed over the tree-tops that day, Sally had looked down at the forest floor and she had seen Mark.

He was running from the chopper like a rabbit from a hawk – just as Sally had seen him fleeing the shattered base that night, even as choppers had landed and troops had circled all around her.

Protective custody had not suited Mark well – nor had it appreciated him.

While Rhodes had taken an instant liking to Sally, he hadn't much cared for Mark.

Sally's father hadn't liked Mark either, in point of fact – Mark, who was a baggage handler on the Pacific Princess, not a passenger, and certainly not good enough for his daughter.

Rhodes didn't seem to think so either.  Things started out testy over the course of their year-long-detention, culminating when Mark had slugged Rhodes in the jaw, nearly catching a bullet from the guards.

Before Sally had taken sick that night, she and Mark had been planning to run.

But it had to be that night.

Sally actually didn't remember a thing.  The nurse had given her a mild sedative, before somewhat sternly escorting Mark away.

Mark, who had been at her bedside all day, had kissed her cheek and whispered, “Keep a candle burning.”

Sally must have slept – perhaps even been knocked unconscious at some point, because when she suddenly awoke, it was over, and she was lying among rubble.  The entire infirmary had been demolished – the bed she had been lying in was gone, as was the entire med-unit, and its staff.

Simply lying limp, riding out the living blitzkrieg, Sally had somehow survived it – missing the crushing force like a beetle misses a rototiller blade.

Battered, and semi-dazed, she had climbed out from under the pilings of rubble.

And the moment she felt the night air, she became aware of two things – the first were the rescue helicopters arriving on-scene, circling down.

Second was the sight of Mark, running for the perimeter, scaling the fence, and jumping for the forest beyond.

Sally could have called to him, but then he would have stopped, and he would have come back for her, and they would have caught him.  So she stayed silent, firmly believing she was never going to see him again.

Then she had spotted him from the air.

When the chopper touched down, it wasn't even a considered decision – she had simply bolted.  The chopper had left him miles behind before landing, but if she could just find him...

Instead, she had stumbled into a quaint little band of forest-dwelling psychopaths who called themselves the Coven.

As it turned out, Mark had crossed paths with them too, and if he hadn't been running from the mountain before, he sure was now.

It was the second time Sally had seen her child's father leaving her behind – all unknowing, believing her long dead, no longer even searching – and this time,