Tomorrow's Dawn (Book 2): Fractured Paradise

by Wohlrab, Jeff

  Daniel, looking stricken, told him, “Have I told you lately just how much I hate you? If I haven’t, let me just reiterate it now. I hate you. I hate you so much.”

  Jensen laughed, despite his exhaustion and the pain in his arms. “I love you, too. I just feel bad for Brent.”

  The older man looked puzzled, “Why?”

  It was then that Jensen realized this group hadn’t heard about Daniel’s first MRE experience after the ambush in Louisville. When Daniel saw him settle into the ground and prepare to tell a story, he threatened, “Don’t you dare. You have to sleep sometime.”

  Jensen smiled, “So there we were. This was right after the nukes hit Fort Gordon and we were driving north toward Appling. We stopped for the night and I suggested to Daniel that he should try an MRE because he’d never had one.”

  “I’m going to kill you. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday,” Daniel intoned. He drew his thumb across his own throat as though he were cutting Jensen’s. The act lost some of its ferocity when his stomach rumbled loudly again.

  “I know, I know. But it won’t be today or tomorrow” Jensen replied.

  Aaron held up his hands. “I think I know where this is going.” He turned to look at Daniel. “Jalapeno beef patty?”

  “Son of a bitch!” Daniel looked at Jensen. “That’s what Dave said too! I am so going to murder you.” Jensen tried to look innocent. “Hey brother, you’re the one that picked that one out. I didn’t do anything.” Trying to ignore the glare, he continued. “After he ate … the jalapeno beef patty … his stomach started to act like this. Then we locked ourselves into the tubs for the night.” Jensen started to laugh as he told the story. “He was steaming in his own farts all night long with the cockpit locked shut.”

  Aaron whistled softly, “That’s cold man. What did he do? Kill your dog or something?”

  Daniel interrupted, “No! I saved his life. And that’s what I get? I thought I was going to die, no shit.”

  Jensen couldn’t help but giggle a little bit in an unmanly fashion. “No shit? I beg to differ.”

  That got a laugh from both older men as well. It didn’t matter how old a guy got—mentally, they remain twelve years old.

  Brent asked Aaron, “Do you have room for one more in that little roadster? I’ll ride in the trunk if I have to.”

  Aaron shook his head, “Nope. Trunk is filled with food and ammo.”

  Daniel looked at Aaron as if stricken. “Et tu Brute?”

  Aaron nodded. “Mostly a bunch of dessert bars with nuts that I made. Shelf stable and plenty of calories.”

  Daniel looked sad, “I think I might hate you, too.”

  Aaron shrugged, “I wasn’t sure if maybe you were allergic to nuts.”

  Sheila broke in to save Daniel. “Is there anything in those you might have trouble digesting? Are you allergic to anything?”

  Daniel shook his head as his stomach grumbled again. “Nothing, just MREs I guess. Fun conversation, you guys, but I’ve got to go check on the flowers over there.” He pointed toward the trees closer to the front of the train.

  “There aren’t any flowers right now, it’s still winter,” Emmy said.

  Daniel told her, “Exactly,” over his shoulder as he walked toward his tub to get toilet paper. He left her to puzzle that one out for herself.

  While he was gone, chatter turned to sleeping arrangements for the night. “We could just sleep in the container now that it’s cleaned out,” Emmy said.

  Aaron vetoed that line of thought immediately. “No visibility, only one exit. We’d be better off camping in tents.” He looked down the track toward the direction Daniel had headed. “We can check the engine. It should have windows and hopefully multiple doors.” He next indicated the homes across the road. “Or we can set up in one of those.”

  “I vote house,” Sheila said. “I’d rather sleep on a bed than in a container or an engine. Or a tent.”

  Brent quickly seconded that idea. “I’m too old to be sleeping on the ground.”

  Aaron laughed. “You’re younger than I am!”

  Brent’s reply was, “You’re too old, too. You just haven’t accepted it yet.”

  Aaron nodded, “You may have a point.”

  He looked at Jensen. “Ready to clear?”

  Jensen groaned, “Yeah. Let’s get to it.”

  Aaron propped his rifle against the side of Jensen’s tub. “Anyone mind if I grab their M4 for a few?”

  Brent held his up. “If it means sleeping in a bed tonight, you can keep it.”

  Aaron accepted the weapon and expertly verified it was loaded and had one in the chamber. He tested the weight of the magazine to make sure it was full and clicked on the red dot.

  He turned to Jensen with a serious expression. “I’m a part-time waiter at a yogurt bar and my wife walks dogs twice a month. I have a budget of $1.5 million and I’d like to be close to downtown.” Jensen had no idea what that meant, but Brent almost choked. Aaron noticed Jensen’s confusion and shook his head sadly, looking at Brent. “Kids these days.”

  To which Brent replied, “I know, right?”

  Aaron motioned for Jensen to follow him and crawled across the linkage between two of the cars. Jensen held up. “Aren’t we going to stay on this side with the tubs?”

  Aaron smiled. “There’s a nice house down the road a ways.” He glanced toward the tubs. “Can’t you lock those up?”

  Jensen grudgingly admitted that he could, but didn’t tell Aaron he didn’t want to be out of sight of his armored vehicle. It had saved his life more times than he could count since the attacks.

  He sighed and climbed over the linkage behind Aaron. “Lead the way, sensei.”

  Aaron walked down the center of the road toward a large house, passing by several smaller homes and a mobile home that appeared run down. Though Aaron seemed to almost completely disregard them, Jensen moved in a crouch with his rifle swinging between them, not certain if they were inhabited or not.

  The SF guy seemed impervious to those thoughts. He strode down the center of the road with a purpose. Jensen whispered loudly, “What are you doing? You’re going to get us killed.”

  Aaron spoke over his shoulder. “There was nobody here a few days ago. I doubt anyone moved into those dumps in the meantime.” He pointed at a beautiful home with a pool to their right. “Not so sure about that one.”

  Now he extended the stock fully and placed it near his shoulder, ready for action. Jensen thought the older man might have had a point. The homes they passed seemed serviceable, but he’d definitely pick the house with the pool, too. He mused that it had to be a Georgia thing. He’d never noticed the shacks next to nice homes in other states like he had since he got to Georgia. Maybe it was a southern thing.

  He was a bit surprised at how close it was to the railroad tracks though. In his experience, it was usually older homes which had seen better days that were perched close to the tracks. This one couldn’t have been more than ten or fifteen years old. Jensen was surprised when they walked straight up to the front door across the wide lawn. He felt naked in the open like that.

  He was even more surprised when Aaron rapped sharply on the door. This was not a typical clearing operation, at least not one he was used to. He’d been trained to stack up on the door and rush in with no warning, preferably following a grenade or two. This put him well outside of his comfort zone.

  After a short pause, Aaron tried the doorknob and found it to be locked. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a small device, which he inserted into the lock. He gave it a sharp twist and the lock surrendered, allowing the door to open. Jensen didn’t know what the tool was, but he wanted one.

  “Wait two seconds and follow me. Concentrate on the right side.” Jensen nodded and Aaron slipped into the house.

  When Jensen entered two seconds later, Aaron was already on the other side of a large open room in the kitchen with his rifle pointed toward the doorways to Jensen’s right. Fr
om his position, he could cover all of the doors on the lower floor as well as the stairway to the second.

  He inclined his head toward the first door, indicating Jensen should check that one out first. Jensen approached the open door cautiously. He covered the opening in small arcs before moving quickly to the other side and doing the same. He couldn’t see anything, but let his rifle hang on the single point sling and drew his Ruger. He felt more comfortable with it in room-sized environs.

  Jensen stepped into the room following the front sight of his pistol. He moved his eyes in coordination with that sight, knowing if he saw something, he could have it on target and pull the trigger within a fraction of a second. It appeared to be a guest room for children. There were bunk beds and a few kids’ posters, but no clothing or possessions. It was empty. Jensen backed out into the large room with his weapon pointed away from Aaron.

  He tipped his head toward the second door, indicating he was going in there next. Aaron nodded, keeping his rifle pointed just in front of Jensen, but not at him. He had both eyes open as he stared through the optic. Jensen carefully opened the door and stood back. He carefully pushed it all the way open with his foot.

  This room was a small office with bookshelves. It was also empty. The walls were covered in science-fiction posters. Whoever lived there was a nerd. There was a large model of a boat or something on the desk that said, ‘FIREFLY SHIP WORKS, LTD.’ Whatever that was. It appeared to be some sort of television series, because there were disks with the word ‘Firefly’ on the shelf right above it with episode numbers. It couldn’t have been that good; there was only one season.

  Jensen backed out of that room as well, nodding to confirm the all clear. He quickly cleared a bathroom and looked at his partner. Aaron moved to the stairwell with Jensen right behind. Aaron motioned for him to hold and watch the stairwell while he opened another door. It led to a laundry room and a garage. The garage was empty aside from a muscle car. It said V8 on the side, so it had to have been built before 2024. Aaron returned to the stairwell and motioned for Jensen to proceed.

  At the top of the stairs was what appeared to be another living room or family room. There was a large screen at the end of the room facing a comfortable looking sofa. Next to the screen was a shelf with what appeared to be more movie discs. Someone was really attached to old stuff; discs were virtually extinct. Jensen saw more of the ‘Firefly’ discs. He checked; same episode numbers. Guess there weren’t any more seasons.

  Several doors led off from the open area. Jensen went to the first and repeated his actions. This one was a library. There was nothing but shelves filled with books along the walls and a chaise lounge at the window. One of the shelves held what seemed to be nothing but comic books. He backed out and moved to the adjoining door.

  Someone was clearly a nerd, but had plenty of money, he mused. This house was big enough for a huge family, but so far, they’d only found a guest bedroom, an office, and a library along with some well-decorated living spaces. The second door was much of the same. Behind that door was a second guest room, but with a king-sized bed taking up much of the wall. Like the first bedroom, it didn’t contain any possessions or hints as to who lived there, only emptiness and some oil paintings.

  Aaron had opened the door across from the library and found a pristine bathroom. It looked as though it had never even been used. Either the person living there had a very good housekeeper or they were a serious neat freak. The whole house was unsettling. It was too big for one person, but all the evidence pointed to a solitary inhabitant.

  The final door had to be the master bedroom. Jensen was certain they’d find answers inside. He slowly nudged the door open.

  Chapter 14

  “So you just need barley, hops, yeast, and water?” Dave had casually initiated a conversation with Marcy about brewing beer.

  The tall blonde grew animated. “Exactly! Using corn or rice makes it a piss-yellow wine cooler; it’s not real beer. You have to toast the barley just so and extract the sugars, use exactly the right hops at the right time, and experiment with yeasts to get the perfect brew. It’s not something that can be done with adjuncts.”

  Dave nodded, encouraging her to go on. “Isn’t there some sort of purity law about that?”

  Marcy beamed. “Exactly. The Germans decreed that those were the only allowable ingredients with the reinheitsgebot. If anyone knows beer, it’s the fucking Germans! They wouldn’t have stood for watered down corn swill.”

  The former Marine nodded, as though he agreed with her point. What he didn’t say was that his preferred beverage was called Natural Ice, or Natty as he and his friends called it when they snuck it into the barracks. He didn’t care how it was made, it was cheap, and it was intoxicating.

  He and his Lance Corporal buddies had actually devised their own method for gauging the inebriating effect of certain alcohols based on their prices at the Class Six, which was the common name for the base liquor store. It was simply called the drunk index. A higher number meant more alcohol for less money. Something like charcoal filtered vodka ranked very high, while the types of beers Marcy was talking about were very low.

  He looked for high proof or low cost. He was happiest when he found them both together, because that meant his purchase was very high on the drunk index. Dave had found early on that after a few drinks, he didn’t care what it tasted like anymore. So that was his focus. He’d mix drinks harsher and harsher throughout the night until he was drinking from the bottle. Beer was something he drank when it was available, because he needed someone else to buy it for him. At that point, he wasn’t old enough to buy it for himself.

  The former Marine had also made a habit of trying to woo the Air Force girls. It was a well-known theme in the Marine Corps that all the hottest girls enlisted in the Air Force, and it was his mission to try to bed them all. He’d succeeded, but not as much as he’d have liked. He was also sad that his mission to get a full house had failed. He’d slept with a Marine, a Soldier, and an Airman, but he’d never gotten past first base with a Sailor.

  He listened to Marcy tell him about roasting barley, dry hopping, and aging, but had tuned out most of the information. He’d learned long ago that the best way to get a woman’s interest was to get her talking about herself and appear to listen. That was what he was doing now. Dave had struck out with Jess years before, multiple times. His efforts to flirt with Sheila had been doomed by the recent loss of her boyfriend, Jerry. Abby was hot, but she was off playing bunny rabbit with Dylan every chance she got. That left Marcy and Emmy, and Emmy was gone.

  Dave hadn’t been seeing anyone when the world went to shit. He’d broken up with his live-in girlfriend months before and hadn’t started seeing anyone new. In the meantime, he’d spent way too much time on dating websites. Everyone he’d found interesting was either married or too far away. He wasn’t into being a Jody and he wasn’t going to try the long-distance relationship again; he’d done that before.

  With no internet to use to try to find acceptable dates, and you know, the world ending, Dave had few prospects in his life. However, he was surrounded by five women that were all certainly above his threshold for dating. At a certain level of attractiveness, it came down to personality. Emmy seemed kind of meek, but Marcy had a fire he found intriguing.

  “But what about aging in bourbon barrels or something like that? Won’t that add flavor?” He had tuned in for just a moment and injected a comment to get her talking again. Dave was hoping to find a spark now, while Daniel was away. He’d seen the way the big man looked at her. He didn’t want to cross him, but if she chose him instead, how could he be held responsible?

  As he was lost in thought, he realized that Marcy had stopped talking. He looked at her questioningly.

  She asked, “What did I just say?”

  Dave felt like a deer in the headlights; he had no idea. “Barrel aging?”

  Marcy laughed. “I see what’s going on. Not a chance. Not going to happen.”
That was new, Dave hadn’t run into this before. It was like she knew what was going on in his head. “I know why my sister told me you ‘Devil Dogs’ should be called ‘Horn Dogs’ instead.” Shit, she was on to him. Marcy pointed to herself, “Not happening.” She looked him up and down. “Besides, I like my men with a little more meat on their bones.”

  Dave almost groaned. She was waiting for Daniel to make a move. “Got it.” He gave her what he hoped was a disarming smile. “Worth a shot?”

  She waved her hands at him, as though she was shooing away a stray animal. “I’ve had men trying to get into my pants since you were in grade school. Go away.” Dave sighed. Maybe a little too feisty, he thought to himself. Hopefully Emmy was lonely.

  Chapter 15

  Emmy was not lonely at that moment. She was surrounded by five people she trusted in front of a roaring fireplace in the first level of the home just south of the stopped train. Aaron and Brent were going on regarding some old show about people buying houses. Comments like “open concept” and “space for entertaining” were flying as they laughed.

  Sheila was relaxing in a huge armchair telling Jensen about her experience treating an old man who kept trying to grab her ass. The man had been dying of lung cancer and had only seemed concerned with how her scrubs fit her. “I almost broke his arm. I was so pissed!” she laughed. “Then, the nurse came in and completely shut him down. I’m not sure how she did it. He never tried it again.”

  Daniel was off ‘patrolling’ again. Jensen sniggered when the big man walked by with a roll of toilet paper he’d found in the cabinet in the downstairs bathroom. Despite his amusement, he was a little concerned. For the most part, legends of digestive problems from MREs weren’t well founded. Daniel’s reaction was certainly worse than any he’d ever seen. He almost felt bad. Almost.

  Emmy sat quietly and just basked in the normalcy. It felt different from the convoy that had left Dahlonega. Then, she’d just been trying to escape. This felt more like family. The warmth of the fire crackling in the dark room was relaxing. She felt as safe as she had since before the vaccinations had started late last year.