The Survival Chronicles | Book 8 | Final Mercy by Nally Fergal F

Author:Nally, Fergal F. [Nally, Fergal F.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Post-Apocalyptic | Dystopian | Infected
Published: 2020-12-03T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23

Little Fox

“That’s some graveyard,” Mercy said, handing the binoculars to Tawny.

Mojito grunted, “Yes, our people have suffered, just as many others have done. This town, this city,” he waved at Lake Havasu City, “after the Fall it was ugly. Me and my family, and some others, we left and went to live in the mountains to the west of here. The first winter was hard but the land took us back with open arms, the old ways returned to our hands. We were able to survive, but it took nearly two years for the undead in the city to burn themselves out. They weakened or the desert took them. Once, a huge herd of them appeared out of a dust storm from down south. I reckon they’d come up from Mexico—”

Tawny handed the binoculars back, “So the tropes grew weak?”

Mojito nodded, “Most of them. There was a feeding frenzy in the early days after the Fall. The city population was around fifty or sixty thousand. Hundreds of thousands of tourists used to visit here every year, the city was packed when the virus struck. I lost a lot of good friends, people I’d known for a long time, people I’d grown up with. We met other families in the mountains, and joined with other survivors. We have Mohave, Hopi, and Navajo among us. We are all one family now. Once the infection died down we moved to this island, and worked to make it secure. We lost more people and gained some, people like you, people passing through, from the north and west mostly. This is our home now. We grow our own food, and have our own water as you can see. We know nothing is permanent and we may have to leave here, but for now, for the moment, we call the island our home—”

“For now—” Tawny repeated Mojito’s words. “In my experience, those who keep moving are the ones that survive, it’s those who stay in one place that die.”

Mercy sighed, “Yes, Tawny, you’re right, but I would hope one day people… communities can put down roots and stop running. Look at this place, look at Brody’s camp back in the Appalachians. Look at where we’re going to—”

Mojito raised an eyebrow, “Where are you headed to?”

Mercy took a breath, “We want to get west, to the Pacific coast. We’ve got people to meet out there—”

Mojito pursed his lips, “That’s some journey, a lot of hard ground to cross. The roads are… dangerous.”

“Yes, your father told us about the Phoenix bandits,” Tawny said.

“Yes, there are the bandits but there are also many undead out there, from the west coast. They’re still strong and their numbers are huge. We used to see armies of them on the plains when we were in the mountains,” Mojito said. He paused, “There are the ghost people too—”

“Ghost people?” Tawny asked.

“Yes,” Mojito said, he looked away. “We don’t like to speak of them but there are people who have developed a taste for undead flesh.

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