Strong Will Vol 2: A Warfighters Tale of the Plague Apocalypse: The NOSOI Virus Saga World: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Series - Companion Series, #2

Prologue

W ill, Will, the words barely penetrating the deepest depths of sleep. That dark place, in which no dream or thought can pierce. One step off of dead.

Will, please wake up! The voice was soft and pleading, the tenderness drawing him toward it. It was like climbing out of the dark, somehow felt as if he was underwater. Slowly waking, struggling to find the source calling out to him.

The young lieutenant slowly opened his eyes, finding the cause of his summons.

His gaze was met by a pair of beautiful green eyes, taking in every detail, he saw a small fleck of copper in the strands of the iris. Odd, he thought having never noticed it before.

For a moment, he was lost in their dark green depths. It took him a second for reality to set in, to find his way back to the present. He was lying in a bed, everything seemed normal, then the memories came flooding back.

There was no electricity, and it was cold. They were squatting in an abandoned home on the southern side of Whidbey Island. That’s where he was, his group of survivors was camped out here in a cul-de-sac, at the end of a lonely road.

There were no memories in the deep, dark place. Will’s brain had to do a reboot, like a recording fast-forwarded to the present. The images of the last days were coming back to him. A chill ran through his spine as he remembered the group’s harrowing escape from the Arena. Almost everyone had fallen, their sanctuary had been overrun by the infected. He had only been able to save a few, a pitiful handful against the hundreds that had been in the care of his National Guard Unit. With only nine, no, now there’s only eight with the loss of Nate. That sad number was all that was left of whole National Guard Battalion. A lonely few left to watch over only a couple dozen survivors.

There are some men here. The words coming forth from ruby red lips surrounded by a pale, freckled face. They say they are Marines. She said, waiting for him to acknowledge her.

Emerald eyes, red lips, and a pale complexion surrounded by hair the color of strawberries and cream. A pang bolted through the young Lieutenant’s heart, emotions were so much stronger here at the end of the world. Hope, her name was Hope. Her parents had named her well. She generated a strong feeling within him, stronger than anything he had ever felt. He was beginning to realize he must be in love.  The realization startled him a little.

Something is wrong with Bobby. She said.

Will wiped the sleep from his eyes, that brought his awareness to the forefront.

What’s wrong with Bobby? He asked, stirring from the bed. They had been going on for days, zero sleep, driving to the point beyond utter exhaustion, until he had finally crashed into a death-like sleep.

He, The voice held a tremble as if to say the answer gave away her fear. He’s sick.

What do you mean he’s sick? Will knew what it meant but couldn’t admit it. It was a possibility he had ignored for the last several days. A horror he couldn’t accept, one he couldn’t even contemplate, so he had stuffed it down, deep inside, refusing to even consider it.

Will, he’s sick. Hope sniffled as tears began to roll down her cheeks. He’s got the virus, we are certain now.

There it was that horrible fact. There was no way around it, no way over it, no way under it. The only way was to go right through it, and that meant letting the terror into the center of his soul.

No, please, NO? Will cried as Hope pulled him to her.

For minutes they cried together, she gently rocking him like a child, trying desperately to fight against the overwhelming truth, the cruelty of their new reality.

He had known this, Bobby had lost his mask in their flight for the ferry terminal. Lost it while fighting to save private Zeller’s life. Bobby should have just left him, Zeller was dead anyway, but that was not the kind of man Will’s best friend was.

There was nothing Will could do to change it, nothing could fix it. He had to find a way to deal with it. Everyone depended on him, he had to move forward. The only way was to push it back, back to the corners of his thoughts. It is what Bobby would have him do. He let go of Hope, both figuratively and literally.

Marines? Will asked, stifling back his tears. Remembering her statement from earlier. It took a moment for Hope to compose herself and answer his question.

There are five of them, they said they were Marines. She finally managed to choke out the answer...

IT WAS A SHIT SANDWICH, and he had to eat it all, every last bite. Will’s driving desire was to go to Bobby, to be there for his friend, his adopted big brother, but he was in charge of this whole gaggle fuck. That meant he had to take care of business, so he stuffed it all down, deep inside, compartmentalizing it into manageable bites. He would take care of this first, then he could go to Bobby.

CHAPTER ONE: NO RESCUE

The collection of young men looked pitiful standing in the home’s living room.  They were wearing an assortment of civilian clothing. All of them were wet and miserable from Washington’s states typical winter’s rains. At this time of year, it was a continuous cold and damp drizzle, that eventually chilled you to the bone. Will’s first thought at the mention of Marines was a relief force. Men in uniform with heavy weapons, riding in armored vehicles, sweeping the infected from the island. A rescue effort.

These were just survivors, no different than the rest of his group.

What’s your story, Will asked the young men.

I’m Sargent Damien, said the leader of the group. We were camping in the Park on the Peninsula when it all happened.

Will appraised the Marine as he spoke, a big guy, standing over six foot tall and heavily muscled. His skin was as black as midnight, his hair cropped short, only a slightly different shade of black. He had to be in his early twenties but held the bearing of a career Marine. There was no doubt that he was the leader of this bunch.

We were doing the trail, the whole thing. Our unit had a deal. We were given two weeks to run it. For us, it was like getting two free weeks of leave out in the mountains. The Sargent explained.

Will knew the trail, it was a hundred and thirty miles long. He had done some of the more scenic parts himself. It passed through the deepest sections of the Olympic National Park, it was very remote and physically challenging.

Anyway, when we got to the end of the trail, reaching the Pacific at La Push, our pickup crew never showed. The tribes had closed their reservations off, and we couldn’t get in. So, we had to walk back out, all the way back to Port Townsend.

Shit, that’s two hundred and sixty miles. Will calculated the distance in his head. No wonder they look so haggard. Lean and hard would have been a better description.

How did you get to the island? Will asked the Sargent.

We found a boat. The senior Marine answered. No engine, but it was big enough for the five of us. So, we rowed it here.

Ten miles over the open waters of the Sound, in a rowboat. Will was impressed. This man was a hell of a leader to get his boys back here in one piece. That’s no small feat.

That’s a hell of a trip, Will confessed.

We’re trying to get back to our post. The Sargent continued.

Aren’t we all, Will thought secretly. He had been looking for a command unit, or any military authority since they left the Arena. Then worry crossed his mind, the virus?

Have you run into any infected yet? Will inquired.

The Marines were almost bereft protection and weapons. Damien had a Glock stuck in the front of his jeans and an issue K-Bar hung at his side. One of his men carried an 870 shotgun, an old police model by the look of it.

Only once, Damien admitted. We ran into a park ranger on the way back. He told us about the outbreak. So, we stayed away from Port Townsend, avoiding any contact, but we ran into a pair looking for the boat.

The Marines had been lucky.

The island is full of them, Will warned the men. You’ve got to protect yourselves. Bobby needs you. His mind screamed at him, but what could he do about the virus, NOSOI killed everything.

Then the thought occurred to him, one he hadn’t even considered. They're headed to the naval base, Oak Harbor. How stupid of me, if there are any survivors on the island that’s where they’d be.

Will chastised himself, he had been so busy getting his people ashore and then the disaster they’d endured, attempting to rescue Nate’s family. He hadn’t even thought of the naval base.

You headed for the Air Station? Will knew the answer but asked the question anyway.

Yes, Sir! The big Marine answered. Well, that response meant that he knew Will was an officer, and military discipline was still in effect. With all that has happened, that was a legitimate question.

That’s where we need to go, it was clear to him now. He had been unsure of his next move, but this made sense.

That’s where we’re headed, Will announced. Want to attach to us?

Will knew he needed them and the Marines needed him. They stood a much better chance of getting to the base if they worked together. He turned to Hope, standing behind him as silent as a mouse.

"Hope, can we get these guys some protective gear?

She spoke up for the first time since the conversation started.

We made a few extra masks, we should have enough.

Hope was referring to the homemade bandanas the survivors had fashioned with cloth and thread. A simple piece of material that covered the wearer from the bridge of the nose down to the chin. It looked like a surgical mask but reinforced with extra material over the mouth.

That will work. Will was working this out loud. Let’s get them something to eat too.

The Marine’s all perked up at the mention of food.

And get Specialist Antonio to give them some weapons.

That meant that Antonio would have to take them from the civilian survivors. They’re not going to like that, Will thought to himself. Many of the survivors had volunteered to carry the guns liberated from the old, World War Two collection they had