FORTRESS: A Post Apocalyptic-Dystopian EMP Attack Thriller (Reckoning Book 3)

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FORTRESS: A Post Apocalyptic-Dystopian EMP Attack Thriller (Reckoning Book 3) Page 5

by Lee West


  “Hey, Frank, thanks for getting the bikes ready. I knew you’d be the right guy for the job,” said Ed.

  The group followed Ed to the enormous bike rack outside the student union.

  “Not a problem at all. I think I’ve got three well-maintained bikes here for you guys.”

  Meg grabbed the only female bike in the trio and adjusted the seat to suit her.

  “I also prepared a repair kit. It has a pump as well as a patch kit for a blown tire. Hopefully you’ll never use it, but better safe than sorry.”

  Frank affixed the repair kit to the back of Joe’s bike. The bungee cords attached to the small rack provided enough security to keep the kit from slipping off. Mike noisily dropped a very large supply of water bottles into the basket located on the handlebars of his bike.

  “Here, let me secure those for you. Otherwise, the first bump you hit, they’ll go flying out,” said Frank.

  Frank pulled additional bungee cords off a few of the bikes on the rack. He crisscrossed the basket with the bungees, securing the bottles.

  “Thanks, man. I wish you were going,” said Mike.

  The men shook hands and then leaned in for a brief half hug.

  “Me too.”

  The three riders mounted their bikes. They turned one last time to the group, and Meg said, “We’ll see you guys later!”

  “If we find the camp, then we’ll probably stay there for a day or so before coming back here. The latest we will stay away in any case is three nights. You’ll know something went wrong if we aren’t back in three nights,” said Joe soberly.

  The group had no way to communicate with the others left behind on campus. The radios used by the watch standers did not have the range needed to cover the distance required for the campus to communicate with the riders. Instead they would have to rely on the passage of time to communicate if a problem occurred.

  “Sorry I can’t provide you with radios for the trip. It would be a waste to even try. The handhelds are really just enough for maintenance and security to communicate on campus. We were lucky to get those back in good working order,” said Ed.

  “We’ll be fine without them,” said Mike.

  “We’d better get out of here before the sun gets too high and things heat up,” said Joe.

  The brave group pedaled their way through the center of campus toward the rear exit. Once they turned the corner of the student union, they could no longer be seen by those who remained.

  “What do you think they’ll find?” asked Nancy.

  “Hard to say. I just hope they come back,” said Brett.

  Frank felt a little sick at the thought of his best friend Mike not returning. If Mike joined the ranks of the missing civilians, Frank would lose everything he held onto in this new world. Mike anchored Frank with the purpose of finding Mike’s family. Instead of allowing his mind to go dark with worry, he decided to once again be proactive.

  “I’m going back to the shop to work on the solar panels. See you guys!”

  He moved quickly away from the others back into the familiar, almost soothing setting of the world of maintenance.

  — 10 —

  Joe’s thighs burned as they biked through the mountains. Luckily the ride did not require them to go up and over the top of the mountain range, something he did not think his body could handle.

  “Can we take a break? I’m dying back here!” shouted Mike from the rear.

  “Me too!” chimed in Meg.

  “Let’s get to the shade up ahead. We can rest there!”

  Joe continued their steady pace toward a large area of deep shade. The sun beat down on them, making the ride all the more miserable.

  “Did I ever mention I hate bike riding?” said Mike.

  Meg laughed and said, “This trip might make me hate it too. We’re only a couple of hours into the trek and I feel like stopping for good.”

  After stopping, Joe pulled out one of the cycling maps and spread it out in front of them. He hoped to find some sort of landmark he could use to plot their location on the map. The lack of cross streets in the rural area made finding themselves on the maps tricky.

  “I think you should use the topographical map. We haven’t passed any other streets. It’s been a straight shot so far from campus to here,” said Mike between gulps of water.

  “That’s a good idea. This cycling map is almost useless without knowing our speed. Everything on here is calibrated for distance, but without knowing our rate of travel, it doesn’t help at all.”

  He spread the topographical map out in front of them. The three leaned in, looking at the map, trying to figure out their location. Reading the map took getting used to. At first glance the map looked like a cluttered collection of random symbols. Joe fought the urge to cast the map aside. Instead, he focused on the symbol key until the map’s information came into focus.

  “I think we crossed this area of dense pines about thirty minutes ago,” said Mike.

  “You sure?”

  “Oh yes. I’m allergic to pines. When we entered that area, my first thought was about the inhaler I left on the ship.”

  “You feeling okay without the inhaler?” asked Meg.

  “I’m okay, not great, but I’ll live.”

  “Okay. Assuming you’re right about the pine grove, we should be about here,” said Joe, pointing at a location on the map.

  “You think? That’s a little farther along than I thought we’d be,” said Meg.

  “Yes. If we went that far in one and a half hours, then we would have gotten to here in just thirty minutes. More or less,” said Joe.

  “You’re probably right,” said Mike.

  “Or close enough, anyway. If would mean we aren’t too far away from the place where Ed thinks the camp is located. Maybe the hardest part of the ride is behind us,” said Joe.

  “I hope so. I’m sore in all sorts of weird places. I’m not sure how much more pedaling I have in me today,” said Meg.

  “I second that. Here’s to finding the camp and resting for a while,” said Mike, holding up his warm water bottle.

  The group sat silently, each regaining their energy before the last push to the first location on the map. Joe and Meg lay flat on the soft earth, holding hands as they rested in the cool shade.

  “What the hell?” said Mike, looking into the distance.

  “What is it? Did you see something?” asked Joe, sitting up quickly.

  “Yes. I saw a group of four people crossing the road over there,” Mike said as he pointed ahead.

  “What sort of people? Military?” asked Meg, alarmed.

  “That’s the weird thing. I have no idea what sort of people they were.”

  “What do you mean? Were they civilians?” asked Joe.

  “No. They were definitely military of some sort.”

  “Then we need to get off the road and hide. Maybe they’re searching this area. We might get discovered,” said Meg.

  They quickly moved their bikes off the road into the forest.

  “What do you mean ‘military of some sort’?” asked Joe as he hustled for concealment.

  “That’s just the thing. They didn’t look like a group of our soldiers. I didn’t recognize their uniforms. It’s like they were military but not our military. I know that sounds crazy,” said Mike, frustrated.

  “Let’s get the bikes a little farther into the forest and wait it out. Whoever they are, I don’t want to tangle with them,” said Joe.

  The group quickly and silently laid their bikes flat against the soft forest ground. The location allowed them to watch the road without being seen. They lay flat on their bellies, looking in the direction where Mike had seen the men. A few seconds later a small group of heavily armed men emerged from the forest, crossed the road, then disappeared into the thick trees on the other side of the road. The group wore a camouflage pattern of uniforms never before seen by Joe.

  “Oh wow. Who are they?” said Joe in a whisper.

 
“You don’t recognize their uniforms either?” said Mike.

  “Not at all. I’ve never seen that pattern of camo.”

  “Maybe the government needed to uniform more people and is using something different for this operation?” said Meg.

  “It makes no sense to me that they would do that. The military has strict guidelines for their uniforms, including camo patterns, and it doesn’t change things frequently.”

  “So what do we do? Turn back?” asked Mike.

  “No way. We’ve come this far. The camp, if it’s where Ed thinks it should be, isn’t too far away from here. We’d be better off going there and not back to campus.”

  “I agree, but those guys are freaking me out. They were all Asian. I don’t know anything about uniforms, but the fact that the entire group of them looked Asian seems really strange to me,” said Meg.

  “I agree, but I don’t want to be on the road, exposed, for the long ride back. I think we’re better off trying to find the camp. It’s closer to our current location,” said Joe.

  Joe held Meg’s hand, trying to soothe her. He also needed to calm down. Seeing the armed soldiers so close underscored their helplessness. The group had no realistic way to fight back against such a force and Joe knew it.

  “Okay. I think we should hold tight for a little longer. Maybe the group is just moving through the area. We can wait this out and then go to the camp. If it’s not there, then we go back to campus. I can’t see us spending even more time out in the open, trying to find the second location,” said Mike.

  “Alright. That’s a decent plan. Let’s lie low for a good while. I want to be sure they’re gone. Do you agree?” asked Joe, turning to Meg.

  “Yes. It’s not great, but better than getting caught.”

  The group lay flat, watching the road for any signs of movement. Joe inched his way closer to Meg and pressed his leg to hers. Nothing in this changed world made sense to him anymore. Hopefully, his brother, Jeff, would have answers for them.

  — 11 —

  Larry struggled up the last flight of stairs in the School of Management’s large chrome and glass building. His tall, muscular, heavy physique resisted any sort of fast movement. Walking up six flights of stairs not only defied gravity but also worked against the dynamics of his large frame. He would rather spend hours at the gym lifting weights than walk up one flight of stairs.

  He took a moment at the top of the stairs before rounding the corner to the classroom where he would relieve the current watch stander. His turn to stand watch came frequently. Something he would gladly do if it meant never returning to the soldiers.

  “Hey, Marvin!”

  “Ah, Larry, good man! Nice to see you. I thought I’d never be relieved from sitting here,” said Marvin.

  The old man stood and stretched in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Beams of sunlight poured into the open space, heating it to the point of being barely tolerable.

  “It is surprisingly difficult to ‘stand watch,’ as they say,” said Marvin as he collected his things.

  “Yes. Boredom comes very quickly with no entertainment up here. That’s why there are always two people on watch at each station during the night. Otherwise, who could stay awake left alone? I’d be asleep in two minutes.”

  “I brought reading material but then put my book down, figuring I was supposed to be watching, not reading. Anyhow, good luck! See you at dinner.”

  Larry settled into the most comfortable chair the room had to offer. His long legs stretched out in front of him and his arms dangled from the edges of the too small office chair. The professor’s chair did provide more comfort than the numerous student chairs located behind the desks. Besides, he hated school, always had. Sitting in a crappy school chair would just remind him of all the firsts he’d experienced while at school. His first broken nose. His first suspension. The first time he was molested.

  He grew up in the inner city of St. Louis, without much parenting to help him navigate the rough waters of adolescence. People looked at him differently because of his size. While still a child, he appeared to be a man. Consequently, when he got into trouble, those in authority dealt with him much harsher than a smaller boy his age would have been treated. At the age of fourteen, his various fights, dangerous school pranks, and drug use resulted in a permanent suspension from school and placement in a home for boys.

  Rita, Larry’s mom, could not help her son any more than she could help herself out of the pitiful circumstances of her life. They bounced around from one apartment to another over the course of his youth. Ultimately they ended up staying on friends’ couches or in homeless shelters. When the state finally took Larry away from Rita, severing her parental rights, the damage to the boy had been done—his future nearly carved in stone.

  At the age of eighteen the authorities released him from the “reformatory school.” He would never forget the day they told him he could leave. They never told him where he should go, only that he could leave. He had long since lost contact with his mother, and the string of foster homes never resulted in permanent relationships. With no home to call his own, he returned to the only place he knew he could find a bed. A homeless shelter.

  Shortly after finding a place at the First Parish Men’s Home, his problems reignited. A wily man named Vic singled him out for “special favors.” Unbeknownst to Larry, Vic ran a serious racketeering business, which also included drugs and prostitution. Vic showered Larry with cash, alcohol and women. Soon, he moved out of the shelter and into one of Vic’s “spreads,” as he called his apartments.

  Unfortunately, Larry didn’t know enough about the real world to recognize that Vic was using him because of his size to do increasingly dangerous and illegal tasks. Ultimately, his relationship with Vic resulted in his arrest. The first night in jail, he used his one phone call to reach out to the only person he thought would help him. Instead of being his savior, Vic turned a cold shoulder to him, saying he really could not get involved. Larry ended up pleading guilty to various charges, including assault with intent to kill, and possession of Class C drugs with intent to distribute. The judge sentenced him to six years in the state penitentiary.

  The years he did in the state penitentiary turned Larry into an angry, vicious man. He suffered at the hands of the guards more than his fellow inmates, who seemed too afraid to touch him. The guards, on the other hand, seemed to relish the thought of breaking the large man. The guards increased the severity of Larry’s punishment through their repeated beatings and frequent solitary confinement.

  Upon his release from prison, he focused single-mindedly on never returning. During his time in prison, he managed to finish high school and earn a GED. The GED allowed him to obtain work at Raw as a bouncer. He worked as many hours as humanly possible and saved every penny of his money until he could afford an apartment of his own. Moving out of the shelter and into the tiny basement studio apartment had been the proudest moment of his life. Unable to afford furniture, he slept and ate on the floor and loved every moment of it. He had been in the apartment for only six months when the lights went out. Then the soldiers came.

  They rounded up everyone, him included, and brought them to a camp. His time in the penitentiary and lack of usable skills flagged him as only suitable for hard physical labor. He had been given the task of digging ditches with other men in his group. The conditions and treatment seemed no different than being on the inside. Determination to escape burned in him with a ferocious power until he finally found his opportunity and ran for freedom.

  Locating a campus full of people who had also avoided capture seemed too good to be true. He determined to never tell anyone about what he had seen in the outside world. Instead, he nestled into the university and enjoyed the feeling of being an active member of their group.

  “Knock, knock!” said Jill, a student.

  “Hi, Jill. What brings you here?”

  “I thought I’d make rounds to all the watch stations with some snacks
. I have candy, chips and granola bars. You want anything?”

  “Don’t mind if I do. Thanks!”

  Grabbing bags of salty and sweet goodness from the stockpile made him believe he had died and gone to heaven. He would do everything he could to remain on campus, concealed from the outside world.

  — 12 —

  Ed made his rounds without the vigor he normally felt when checking in with people. He needed to pay a visit to Sal, but could not seem to make himself go to the top floor of the hospital. The risk of seeing a mummification in progress disturbed Ed immensely. He preferred less gory endeavors, even shunning bloody horror films at every turn. Today he was determined to put aside his squeamishness for the sake of the group.

  After Dr. Lordes started his work on the bodies, the gruesome smell in the hospital began to get rapidly better. Hopefully, upon completion of the mummification steps, the smell would be gone entirely.

  “Sal? You up here?” shouted Ed.

  A thin shroud of dust covered the once gleaming white floors. The teaching hospital had been a jewel among teaching facilities. It boasted some of the world’s best researchers, all working toward finding cures for the most exotic and deadliest disease pathogens. Now it looked more like an underfunded and ignored inner-city hospital.

  “Over here!” answered Sal from the far corner of the building.

  Ed grimaced. He had hoped Sal might be on a break or his voice wouldn’t carry. Instead, the mummy-maker walked out of the operating theater. He wore blood-soaked hospital scrubs under a long, thick plastic apron. Sweat glistened across his broad forehead, soaking his surgical cap.

  “Hi, Ed! What brings you up here?”

 

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