Atomic Threat (Book 3): Survive The End

by Bowman, Dave

  Jack felt a jolt of panic when he saw the women. Naomi had already been so closing to giving up days ago. How would she respond to the brutal treatment of these people – these slavers – now?

  The guards made the women all line up and wait to be counted. Satisfied that they had all the prisoners, the guards led the women inside the hotel, one small group at a time.

  "It's lunchtime," Brent whispered. "They did the same thing with us. Handcuffed us and brought us inside to our rooms to eat some disgusting slop."

  As the guards brought each group of women around to the front entrance, Jack and Brent could get a closer look at them. Group by group, the two men waited in anticipation, hoping to see Naomi's face among the women. When the last group was brought inside, Jack sighed in disappointment. Naomi wasn't being kept prisoner here.

  Brent glanced at Jack. "Should we keep going? Maybe they have another women's prison closer to the campus."

  Jack nodded. "Yeah, we should keep heading south," Jack said in the faintest of whispers. "Then we can cut over to the east and move up north to look on the other roads."

  "Sounds good."

  "But the problem is this area is thick with guards,” Jack said. "It's going to be harder than ever not to be seen moving around here."

  Brent looked around. “If we could cross this street, we’d be in better shape. All those trees on the sidewalk over there would give us cover. Plus, there’s another alley behind that block to the west. Might be safer.”

  Jack followed with his eyes the route Brent was describing. It would be difficult to cross the street, but Brent was right – if they could pull it off, the alley would be a much better option than the main road. He waited as a small troop of young teens pulling bicycle trailers passed. Once they were out of sight, the street was relatively empty. All the female prison guards were inside the hotel.

  “We’ll be guards,” Jack muttered.

  “What?”

  “We’ll cross the street like we’re supposed to be here. Like we’re guards,” Jack said.

  Brent frowned, looking doubtful. “I guess. I mean, if you think that’ll work.”

  Jack gave one last look up and down the street, then stood up from the car he crouched behind. He adjusted the rifles, then emerged from the alley and walked out onto the side street. Turning right, he moved down the sidewalk toward the main intersection. Brent followed his lead.

  At the intersection, Jack stepped off the sidewalk casually into the street. He began to stride across the street confidently, with Brent beside him.

  The plan wouldn’t work if they ran into any guards up close – the gang’s members had probably all been briefed on the fugitives’ physical descriptions and would be looking for Jack and Brent. But maybe the men’s cool, unworried demeanor would fool anyone watching from a distance.

  In any case, a guard watching two men scurry across the street in a panic would definitely know something was amiss.

  And so Jack sauntered across the street, looking up and down the block calmly as if patrolling the area.

  Jack’s pulse pounded in his temples. He fought the urge to break into a run. He wanted desperately to escape the area and hide out of sight of any guards watching from the hotel windows or from down the street. But he restrained himself, forcing his legs to carry him even slower than he thought necessary. A real guard on patrol duty wouldn’t be in a hurry.

  At the end of the intersection, they headed toward the alley on the next block. Beside him, Brent let out a tense exhale once they turned into the alley.

  “That was awful,” Brent whispered. “I thought for sure we’d be caught out in the open like that.”

  “Keep your voice down,” Jack breathed. “We’re not out of the woods yet.”

  The two passed through the alley at a brisk pace, constantly on the lookout for anyone who might be following. At the end of the block, they looked around. There were only smaller homes on the surrounding blocks, so they crossed the next, smaller street. The alley continued on the next block.

  Jack’s leg was still hurting from the metal scrap from the truck, but he was more concerned with the increasing difficulty in finding Naomi. The gang’s territory was even larger than he had suspected, and it was going to be hard to find her. And the more time they spent searching up and down the streets, the more likely a run-in would be.

  The alley bisected the block, running between the two rows of homes. Many of the homes had small storage sheds or detached garages abutting the alley.

  Jack glanced at a shed up ahead to the right, then at the garage in the adjacent yard.

  Jack approached the far edge of the shed. A sudden flash of movement to the right caught his eye.

  But before he could react, a man hiding behind the shed lunged out at him.

  Jack felt a sharp, sudden pain in his thigh. He groaned as a fiery sensation flared through his leg.

  He looked down to see the man withdraw a fixed blade knife from his outer thigh.

  Before Jack knew what was happening, Brent made a sharp movement. Lifting the butt of his rifle up, Brent brought the weapon down across the man's head.

  The man fell over on the ground. Brent hit him again on his head.

  Brent took a step back and looked at the man, who was bleeding from his head. His eyes wide and bulging, he shuddered on the ground. Brent stared at him, frozen in place.

  Jack grabbed his arm and pulled. "We've got to get out of here."

  Snapping out of his reverie, Brent blinked and took off behind Jack. The two men ran through the alley. Jack's attacker wouldn't be coming after them anytime soon – he was probably unconscious, Jack figured. But the noise of the confrontation might alert any guards in the area to Jack's and Brent's whereabouts.

  They had to get far away, fast.

  Jack's head was pounding as they ran toward the end of the block. They emerged from the shade of the trees lining the alley. The sunlight hit his face, blinding him momentarily as he drew closer to the intersection.

  His leg was bleeding fast. With each breath, he felt more lightheaded. As he ran out from the cover of the alley and began to cross the side street, he began to feel woozy.

  His vision was fragmenting. Splintered images swirled around in front of his eyes.

  He didn't have much time.

  21

  Heather shivered in the night cold. It had been a few hours since she had lain down and shut her eyes at the campsite. She would have to accept the inevitable. She would get no sleep that night. Fear, hunger and thirst kept her wide awake.

  Rising to her feet, she got on her bike and pushed off. She was growing hungrier as the night wore on, and she didn't want to get too weak to make it home.

  A waning gibbous moon had finally risen about a half hour ago. Now, it cast a silvery light on the gravel road. She rode out of the campground road and turned on the gravel street where she had first realized she was lost. With some luck, she hoped she would be able to make it back to the highway. She had to try. Staying any longer at the campsite would surely mean death.

  Riding the bike helped to warm her up, but it made the gnawing hunger in her belly worse.

  Around the first light of the morning, Heather made it to a crossroads. She came to a stop and stared at her options. The road she was on ended, and she could turn left or right on a gravel road.

  With the light of the rising sun, she could at least orient herself to the directions. But maybe she had taken so many turns in her confusion yesterday that she couldn't assume that west would take her to the highway.

  Finally, as the sun illuminated the land, she spotted a windmill down the road to her left. She remembered passing that windmill. She grinned as she pedaled off to the left. Soon, she hoped to make it to the highway.

  It was late morning when she finally made it to her parents’ house, having found her way back to the highway soon after sunrise. When she at last saw the long, uphill driveway, she felt a surge of energy and she pushed the bicycle
faster toward her family home.

  She could scarcely contain her excitement. Finally, this nightmare would come to an end. Her mother and father would be there. And they would make everything okay.

  Finding the door was locked, she knocked loudly and impatiently. Taking a moment to look around, she noticed her mom’s vehicle was parked out front, but her father's truck wasn't there. That wasn't too surprising – he had probably been driving somewhere when all the cars stopped working. And then he had walked home.

  She could scarcely wait to see her family.

  The front door finally opened. Heather was overcome with joy to see her mother standing before her.

  "Heather! My baby!" her mother exclaimed. She opened her arms wide, pulling her daughter in close. "You made it all this way! But you look awful! Are you all right?"

  Heather nodded against her mother's shoulder. "I'm fine now. Everything’s fine now that I'm home."

  Myra looked off the porch to see Heather's bike on the ground. "Goodness! Did you ride your bike all the way from Roanoke? You must be exhausted!"

  She led her daughter inside, closing the door behind her.

  "You come sit down here," Myra said, taking Heather by the hand and plopping her down at the dining table. "What do you need? You must be starving!"

  Heather nodded. "I need water most of all."

  Myra poured her a glass of water and brought it to Heather, who downed the glass instantly. Myra poured her another glass.

  "I'll get you some food," Myra said as she left the water pitcher for her daughter and hurried into the kitchen.

  "Heather?"

  Heather looked up to see her niece on the stairs.

  "Katie!"

  Katie ran to give her aunt a hug. Surprised, Heather stood up and wrapped her arms around the teenager, who looked up at her aunt with a grin.

  "It’s so good to see you, kiddo! And you’re almost taller than me now! But why are you here?" Heather asked, collapsing back on the couch and downing the second glass of water. “You didn’t come by yourself, did you?”

  "No. Dad wanted to come here," Katie said.

  "Oh, Brody's here?" Heather asked, glancing up at her mother.

  "Yeah, he’s still sleeping," Katie said.

  "Lazy bones,” Heather said, grinning. She was elated to be back home. And better yet, her brother and niece were there, too. Things were looking up.

  She grabbed a handful of chocolate raisins from a package on the table. “When did you get here, Katie?"

  "Two nights ago," Katie said. "We rode our bikes here. It took all day."

  "And that was just thirty miles," Myra said from the kitchen. "How long did it take you to come from Roanoke?"

  "This is my third day riding," Heather said. "I waited two days to leave – after . . . after the bomb hit Roanoke."

  Myra looked up. "Roanoke, too?" She stood bracing the counter as if she had suddenly felt dizzy. "Thank God you're okay!"

  Heather nodded. "Yep. A coworker warned me at work that day, so I got out in time. He had some kind of tip from a friend at the Capitol. If I hadn't listened to him, I probably wouldn't be alive."

  Myra shook her head and returned to the table with a plate of food. She threw her arms around her daughter again, who had already begun to tear into the food. "I'm just so glad you made it. I haven't been able to think about anything but you and your sister and –"

  Myra stopped herself, then continued quickly. "I'm just so glad you came home, where you ought to be. I never want to let you out of my sight again!"

  Heather swallowed a large mouthful of chicken and looked around. "Where's Dad?"

  Myra and Katie looked at each other. Then Myra looked away.

  "Mom?" Heather asked, her voice becoming higher-pitched. "Where's Dad?"

  "Well, you know, he went to the hardware store that day. Wednesday. And then, all the lights went out and the cars stopped. I –"

  Heather pushed her chair from the table and began to walk toward the back porch.

  "Dad?" she called. "Dad!"

  "Heather, sweetie," Myra began, her face lined with worry. "We've been looking for him for days. I just don't know what to do anymore."

  Heather kept moving through the house, opening all the doors as if she'd find her father hiding. She had stopped listening to her mother. She couldn't bear to hear it.

  "Heather, please sit down," Myra said. "I have to talk to you."

  But Heather was already running up the stairs.

  "Dad! Dad, where are you?"

  Heather ran into her parents' bedroom. Empty. Then she charged into the spare rooms. She first looked in her old bedroom, then Annie's, which was now being used by Katie. She let out a frustrated cry as the realization sunk in that her father was actually gone. She didn't know where he was or how he’d disappeared, but just that her father was gone.

  Angered and panicked, she charged into Brody's room, fully prepared to demand answers from her big brother about their missing father.

  But she froze when her eyes fell on Brody. He lay in bed, his eyes closed, and his skin an odd color.

  He looked terribly ill.

  22

  Annie drove the Porsche over the final hill, then began to charge down the highway.

  The house came into view.

  "Is that where the meth head lives?" Charlotte asked, looking off to the right.

  "It's where he lives now," Annie said. "I think he murdered the owners of the house.”

  Charlotte craned her neck to look down the driveway as they got closer.

  "Oh, I see him!" Charlotte said, recoiling.

  Annie looked over toward the driveway. She saw the man who had attacked her earlier. Hearing the approaching vehicle on the highway must have provoked him to take action. He was running at full throttle toward the highway.

  But he was too late. The Porsche passed the turnoff toward the house before he could get close. For a moment, Annie braced herself, worried that the man might start firing a gun at them. But they passed the area without incident. She returned her eyes to the road, determined not to miss any more obstacles on the highway. She wanted to get to Loretta without any more problems.

  Charlotte sighed in the passenger seat. "I'm glad he didn't have a gun! He looked crazy."

  Annie nodded silently beside her. She felt her racing heart began to slow down. They had escaped one more madman. She took a few deep breaths as she drove the Porsche around a tight curve.

  "Do you think we'll be there in an hour?" Charlotte asked hopefully. "I can't wait to lie down in a bed. Finally."

  "About an hour and a half," Annie said. "And I have a quick stop to make before we get to the ranch."

  Charlotte looked at her, somewhat alarmed. "A stop? Where?"

  "I just want to stop and check on a neighbor in Loretta," Annie said. "She's an old friend of the family. Jack and I always stop and make sure she's all right. She's elderly and all alone. It won’t take long, though. Loretta is a tiny town. And Jack's ranch is two or three miles on the other side of town."

  "Okay," Charlotte said as she settled in her seat, trying to find a comfortable position despite her injuries. "As long as no one starts shooting at us or tries to steal the car."

  Annie laughed. "I don't think that would happen in Loretta. It's a friendly little town. But you're right, we have to be careful just the same."

  Annie gripped the steering wheel with both hands as she drove through the peaceful countryside. She could hardly believe how good it felt to be on the move at high speeds again. They had been so vulnerable, stuck on the side of the road for the past thirty-six hours. Now, they had mobility, and that meant power and freedom. Annie promised herself that she'd fight with everything she had to keep access to the car.

  She felt the tension in her shoulders ease up.

  Almost there. Soon, they would be safe.

  Finally, the first house on the eastern edge of Loretta appeared. Annie felt excitement building in her chest. They had
almost arrived.

  The Porsche's deceleration woke Charlotte from her nap.

  “Where are we?” she asked groggily.

  “Almost to Loretta,” Annie said. “And I’m gonna make my stop first right here.”

  Annie turned in a short driveway on the outskirts of town and parked the car in front of a modest single-story home. A cheery flower garden out front was well cared for and made the property colorful.

  "This is Edith's house," Annie said as she killed the engine.

  Annie got out of the car, stretching her arms overhead to get the kinks out from the drive.

  "You wait here," she told Charlotte. "I'll be right back."

  Charlotte watched as Annie walked past a ten-year-old Ford sedan parked in the driveway. Annie climbed the steps to the porch, then knocked loudly on the front door.

  Inside the car, Charlotte struggled to turn around without pulling too much at her wounds. She wanted to keep an eye on the highway. Loretta looked like a sleepy little town, but Charlotte didn't trust anyone anymore. What if one of the neighbors had heard the Porsche and took a notion to stealing it?

  Annie knocked a second time on the front door, louder this time. When there was again no answer, she pressed her face against the glass of the front window, shielding her vision from the sun. After a moment, she came down from the porch and began to circle around toward the back door.

  "I don’t hear anything inside," Annie said to Charlotte as she passed. "It’s weird. She should be at home."

  Charlotte waited in the car as Annie was gone for several minutes. Charlotte wished her friend would hurry. She didn't like being left in the car alone. She picked up the gun from its resting place on the middle console and put it in her lap, running her finger along the cool metal of the barrel. Having the gun there made her feel a little less afraid.