Survival Rules Series (Book 1): Rules of Survival

by Hunt, Jack

  “You want to give me a hand?” Nate asked.

  “You need a key to open it,” he said pointing to a hole near the top of the elevator doors. “Only the fire department or janitor has that. That’s what I was trying to tell you but oh no, don’t listen to me.” He took another puff of his cigarette as Nate hurried down the hallway to the knot of people staring out of the window. He was going to head down the stairwell and see if he could locate management but he didn’t get that far. He paused at the stairwell, one hand on the door, and glanced at the window everyone was looking out. A few of them gasped. He jogged over to see what had their attention. That was when he got his first sight of the ensuing chaos. Far below the city was blanketed in darkness. A few lights were on, emergency backup generators kicking in, but for the most part the city was shrouded. Cars, trucks, motorbikes and large eighteen-wheelers had come to a standstill, though there were others that were operational. Strange. How had the entire city’s power gone out? Was it a terror attack? He thought back to some of the incidents that had occurred over the years. Many of them coincided with natural disasters but there had been no earthquake, and the weather was as good as could be.

  The people around him were talking about their phones not working. Nate pulled out his. The screen lit up because he still had battery life but there was no signal, and no internet. Turning on the flashlight portion of it he cast the glow down the corridor towards Zach.

  “Zach. You need to see this,” he said before he realized that Zach was gone. “Zach!” He hurried back towards the elevator and on to the next stairwell at the other end of the hallway. Inside, he could hear and see a number of residents making their way down. He called out to Zach but got no response. Asshole. He’d ditched him.

  Just about to head down, he heard a scream coming from the knot of people at the far end of the hallway. They all began rushing towards him, fear gripping their faces. “Go. Go! It’s a plane,” a red-headed woman closest to him yelled in terror just as he glimpsed the nose of the airplane. It all happened so quickly. He lunged forward towards the staircase as did several of the people nearby. What transpired next came in a series of loud bangs mixed with glass breaking, and the entire building shaking. He was sure he was going to die as his body tumbled head over feet down the staircase along with other people. No other thoughts went through his mind. Not the money he’d earned. Nor any of the hopes and unfilled dreams, everything vanished in a blur of pain, and screams.

  An explosion ripped through the building, and then nothing but darkness and smoke.

  5

  The Boeing 737 shook violently as it clipped the tops of Douglas fir trees over Glacier National Park. Gabriel knew the odds of experiencing a plane crash were low compared to driving but surviving a plane crash at night when the plane had no power? With his head between his legs, he began to pray. He wasn’t a religious man but with all his transgressions he wanted to stack the odds in his favor. Air whooshed, and treetops snapped over and over again as they slapped the plane causing them to rock in their seats.

  Around him he could hear some men asking forgiveness of their sins, others crying and one person singing an old hymn. It was strange to see hardened criminals buckling under the expectation of death. Death had a way of breaking through even the hardest of hearts and leveling the playing field.

  The belly of the plane was no longer slapping against flexible treetops. There was a huge bang, followed by another as the trunks of trees tore into the guts of the plane splitting it wide open like a can opener.

  Gabriel tilted his head and looked out and saw what appeared to be water before one of the wings of the plane must have sheared off, sending the rest into a death roll. Whoever was flying the plane had to have been exceptionally skilled as no sooner had that happened than the nose hit the surface of the water, sliding through its murky depths at a tremendous speed. There was nothing more than a blur as his skin was slapped with water and the sheer force of metal hitting the water tore the cockpit away, sending a wave of frigid water into the cabin. Several rows of seats were ripped from the floor and forced back into the cabin. Gabriel saw four men disappear over his head, along with pieces of the pilot. He saw a North Dakota Penitentiary badge, along with the body of a correctional officer. He never saw the person’s face but he hoped it was Stevens. Men cried out as each of them thought they were seconds away from death’s door. It was like watching everything play out in slow motion. There was a loud sound of metal snapping, and bending under the weight of water as the plane broke apart on impact.

  What followed next was a large whoosh as water that had flooded in was sucked back as the plane began to slow its descent. Gabriel smashed his head into the seat in front of him and then rocked back and forth as he moved in and out of consciousness. With air trapped inside, it wasn’t long before it began to partially bob in the water but it wouldn’t end there. The heavy plane let out a groan and began to dip. Within seconds it would be fully submerged, along with all of them.

  Gabriel wasn’t sure at what point he blacked out, only that when his eyes snapped open, he took in a large lungful of air and gasped as his body began to shiver. It felt like a Mack truck had hit his head. Blood was trickling down the side of his face and droplets hit the surface of the water. Surface of the water? That was when he noticed that it was up to his waist.

  The plane was banked to the left and quickly sinking.

  In near darkness he gazed around and could see other men submerged. Whether they had survived the initial impact or not was neither here nor there, they were now dead.

  “Marcus. MARCUS!” he yelled trying to get his attention without turning his head. His body was in so much pain and he was unable to move. He was sure he was paralyzed. But it wasn’t that. It was just the cold. Shock was setting in and with it hyperthermia. If he didn’t get out of there soon he would sink to the bottom of some unknown body of water, and that would be the end of his lineage.

  “Hey. Let us out!” a voice yelled from behind him.

  “Darius?” Gabriel yelled, recognizing his voice. Darius acknowledged him in his panicked state. A few others, hearing them, called out. More were alive. Hope rose in his chest at the thought that one of them might have got loose from his chains. Metal had twisted and wires were exposed, leading him to believe that maybe, just maybe some of the inmates’ chains might have snapped. Sections of the floor had been torn apart and bent upright. Several of the food carts were floating on top of the water, one kept banging against a dead inmate’s head.

  More yelling ensued. This time it was Torres calling out for one of the correctional officers. “Lee. Let us out.” All of them were secured with waist, wrist and ankle chains. It was meant to prevent them from starting problems on the plane, and it had, but now it would be a one-way ticket to an early grave if someone didn’t let them out.

  Gabriel craned his head around the seat in front of him. He could just make out Martin Lee who’d been sitting next to Stevens up front. Stevens was no longer there but Lee was, strapped into his seat with his head slumped forward.

  “Lee. Wake the hell up!” Gabriel joined in, trying to get him to stir. He shook the chains around his wrist violently in an attempt to move but it was useless. The plane groaned and sank a little more bringing the water up to his sternum. “Shit!”

  Fear turned into panic as the men cried out for help.

  He twisted trying to see his brother but it was so dark he couldn’t tell if he was alive or dead. It was then that Gabriel saw movement up ahead. Sloshing through the water, Stevens came into view. He had a gnarly gash on his forehead. Blood covered one half of his face, and there was a piece of metal sticking out of his thigh. He stumbled as he tried to make his way to Lee.

  “Hey. Stevens. Let us out!” all the surviving inmates cried. It was hard to tell how many were alive. Darkness hid faces, and some of those who looked like they were moving were actually dead and just bobbing on the surface of the water. Stevens turned his face towards
them, sneered and then focused on Lee. He clasped him by the shoulders and slapped his face a few times until Lee came to and started coughing. Unbuckling his belt, he helped him up.

  “Lee!” Gabriel yelled finally getting his attention. He looked disoriented and bewildered. Stevens wrapped his arm around Lee’s waist and tried to guide him towards the large opening where the cockpit had once been. “Stevens, you bastard, let us out!” Gabriel shouted. Stevens turned and flipped him the bird. That only infuriated Gabriel more. He tugged at his restraints like a penned animal. Stevens was going to leave them there to die. He didn’t give a shit. Retirement would be a whole lot sweeter knowing that they were dead. He’d probably come up with some tale and Lee would have to corroborate his story, and being a newbie, he would.

  Then the unexpected happened. Randall White, a raving lunatic who had gouged out the eyes of another inmate, suddenly emerged from the shadows, wading fast towards Stevens from behind. Stevens didn’t know what was happening until Randall looped his handcuffs over his head and fell back into the water behind him. Torres started yelling, “Strangle him!”

  Stevens fought for his life, trying to pull the chain away from his neck, but without being able to get a good footing on the ground, he was at a loss. All he could do was extend a hand to Lee who was still reeling from being unconscious. Gabriel heard Stevens cry for help. That was when Lee staggered forward, pulled his pistol and aimed it at Randall. “Release him. Now!”

  “Not until you give us the keys.”

  That crazy fuck was doing it on behalf of all of them. That was the thing about inmates. You never quite knew who was going to stab you or have your back. They were a dying breed, literally.

  All the while Stevens was yelling for him to shoot.

  The metal of the plane groaned and creaked and it sank a little more, another reminder of their fate if Lee didn’t act fast.

  “We just want to get out.”

  Lee nodded, reached into a pocket and pulled out a set of keys.

  “Let him go.”

  “The keys. Set them on that metal counter over there.”

  Lee hesitated for a second then waded through the water and placed the keys on the counter. Unknown to Randall, Stevens was still packing a firearm. Because of how tight the chain was around his neck, and attempting to prevent Randall from strangling him, Stevens was unable to reach his service weapon. That all changed the second Randall eased off the pressure. A momentary lapse in judgement was all it took.

  A fist punched out of the water holding a gun.

  Before Randall had waded within a foot of the keys, Stevens unloaded a round into the back of his head. His skull vanished in a mist of red before he slumped into the water. Lee rushed forward yelling. “What did you do?”

  “What you couldn’t!” Stevens replied rubbing his neck. “Now move before this bird goes under.”

  Stevens began making his way out but Lee stood there looking at the body. Gabriel had seen that look in other correctional officers’ eyes. Those who hadn’t been hardened by years on the job found the reality of death hard to see.

  “Lee. Let’s go!” Stevens bellowed, stopping for a second. Lee shook his head, waded over to the keys, grabbed them up and began going to those who had survived to release them.

  “Did you hear what I said?”

  “I’m not leaving them here to die.”

  “They are already dead. Most of them are lifers.”

  Lee turned, a look of disgust on his face. “It’s not right.”

  As he proceeded to unlock the binds of Torres, Stevens came towards him. Expecting that, Lee pulled his firearm but kept it out of view. Only Gabriel and the others could see what he was doing as he turned and told Stevens to back off.

  “Drop the keys.”

  “No.”

  There was a second of tension before Stevens lunged at Lee and they fought for control. The keys dropped from his hand but were caught by Torres, who quickly used them to finish unlocking his waist and ankles. “Torres!” Gabriel said. Torres waded back and released Gabriel while Lee and Stevens continued to fight. Gabriel hurried back for his brother and found him slumped over. The only thing that had saved him from drowning was the tray in front of him had fallen forward and his head was resting on the top. “Marcus. Wake up.” He unlocked his binds and then gave the keys to Torres to help Bill and Jericho out of theirs. Marcus was out cold so Gabriel wrapped his arm around him and dragged him out into the aisle.

  A gun went off, a loud crack echoed in the fuselage and Gabriel turned to see Stevens slumped against Lee’s body. He rolled him off and they watched as Stevens disappeared below the murky waters, a look of shock and horror on his face. A few bubbles came from his mouth and then he was gone. Lee stood there unable to believe what he’d done. Shock masked his face. He turned and looked at them. “I didn’t mean to…”

  “Doesn’t matter now, kid, you’re one of us,” Pope said brushing past him, trying to get out. Another groan, and the plane let out its final death cry and the water began rushing in faster as it started sinking.

  “Go. Move it.”

  The group waded through the water towards the opening, seeing only a faint glimmer of the moon’s reflection on the surface before the front end disappeared below the water trapping them inside. “Help us out!” A few more inmates who were still locked in cried out but it was too late to save them. Torres had done the best he could, releasing a large number of inmates.

  Marcus was still out cold so Gabriel held on to him tightly, took a deep breath and dove beneath the surface that was already up to his chin. Below the water it was just pitch dark. He swam forward towards the last glimmer of emergency light. He could see the silhouette of the others’ legs as he swam hard out of the opening and headed for the surface.

  He gasped as he emerged with his brother still in hand.

  A cold breeze blew against his skin, carrying with it the scent of pine.

  “I got you, brother. I got you,” he said. More faces appeared to his left and right. Torres, Harry, Lee, Jericho, Bill and several others. Around them, floating on the surface of the water, were bodies of inmates and floatation devices from the plane. A flock of birds broke from a nearby cluster of trees, wheeling overhead before heading towards the hills. For a second he was disoriented as he turned and looked around him. Where the hell were they? There were mountains surrounding them and a landscape of pines and fir trees. In the distance he could make out where the plane had gouged the trees and earth. A huge gash in the earth split the landscape. Turning 360 degrees in the water he could tell the plane had gone down in what appeared to be a large lake. Gabriel rolled onto his back, hooked his arm around his brother and swam backwards to the shore. They had survived the unthinkable, and were now free but it was only the beginning of trouble.

  6

  Whitefish, Montana

  Ten minutes earlier, Corey Ford was settling in for a night with his pregnant fiancée when the call came in from Flathead County Search and Rescue. After eight years in the Marines, he’d returned to his hometown to put down roots and had taken a position at his father’s army and navy surplus store. Searching for a way to give back to his community, and use the skills he’d gained from his father and the military, he’d opted to volunteer for FCSAR. Calls dealt with everything from water and technical rock rescues to county disaster response, evacuation and emergency medical assistance.

  Terry Murdoch, a close friend and co-worker, had called to see if he was available to respond to a mayday issued from a plane somewhere over Glacier National Park. A small team was assembling as they spoke to head out.

  “Ah man,” Corey replied, casting a glance at Ella. He’d been meaning to have some quality time with her. They were planning to get married in a year and had already moved in together, to the disgust of his father. She looked at him and turned off the TV and shrugged. She’d become accustomed to his need to drop everything and head out. Other women might have taken offense and guilt
ed him out, but she was different. A medic for the local hospital, she understood more than anyone the responsibility he had. She mouthed the word go, and he told Terry to hold for a second. He placed the phone against his chest and said he would make it up to her.

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

  “It’s not a promise.”

  She smiled and walked off.

  Corey got back on the phone.

  “You got the coordinates?”

  “Yeah, looks like the plane was close to Lake McDonald.”

  “That’s some rocky terrain out there.”

  “Yeah, can you bring your 4 x 4?”

  Before he could reply the call dropped, and the lights went out.

  “Terry. Terry?” Corey said. He tried to phone him back but the line was dead. He leaned forward in his seat and yelled out, “Ella. You messing with the fuse box?”

  “No,” she said reentering the room. Corey got up and headed over to the window and looked out to check on his neighbors’ homes. He lived on a stretch of road in the north end of town, not far from Whitefish Mountain Resort. It was about a fifteen-minute car drive from the downtown, and his father’s store.

  “Great, looks like we have a power outage. I hope this doesn’t last. Fire up the generator. I’ve got to head out.”

  Corey hurried upstairs to get ready, slipping into warm outdoor clothes and collecting in a bag everything he would need. As he filled it, he looked at the worn-out green army backpack that his father had given him so many years ago. Tyler also got one. Its contents he knew by heart. Their usage had become second nature. At one time he carried everywhere he went. Not anymore. He scooped up his regular bag and went down.

  “You got the keys to the truck?”

  “Your father took it,” she said.

  “What?” He ran a hand through his curly brown hair, and then over his bearded jaw line. “Ah, man, when?”