Fallen Earth | Book 1 | Remnants

by Morrow, Jason D.

  Henry walked, slowly at first, almost a leisurely pace. Leland didn’t say anything but instead nudged him with the stock of his shotgun. When he didn’t quicken his pace, Leland sighed. “You’re gonna play games with me all night, aren’t you?”

  “You can’t think I’m going to make it easy on you.”

  “You know you won’t make it far with cuffs behind your back, especially in the woods.”

  “I escaped prison, didn’t I?”

  Leland was silent for a moment. “Yeah, I suppose you did. You probably have a few skills I don’t know about.”

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

  “Well, that’s true.”

  “I bet you think you’ve got me pegged,” Henry said

  “For the most part.”

  “I would be interested to know what you think.”

  “Why?”

  “Just so I can know what a cop assumes about his captives.”

  “Just so you can get into my head. That’s all you’re trying to do.”

  Leland wasn’t wrong. Getting him talking was his strategy, but Leland knowing what Henry was doing wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. It didn’t matter if you know someone is trying to get you to talk. If you like to talk, you will talk. And if you talk, you get distracted. And if you’re distracted…

  “I’m not trying to get into your head,” Henry said. “We’ve got a long trip ahead of us. Figured I would at least make it interesting.”

  “You already know I don’t believe that.”

  “Does it matter?”

  “I suppose not.”

  Henry tried not to smile. Leland would talk. He would get distracted. Knowing that and knowing he didn’t like to use his gun, Henry figured he had a decent chance of escaping.

  “You know this wasn’t just some power outage, right?”

  The sheriff didn’t answer.

  “EMP,” Henry said. “Electromagnetic pulse. Usually in the form of a bomb, I think.”

  “What are you going on about?”

  Henry shook his head. “If it was a power outage, your car would have still started. Your radio would still work. Can you imagine if it hit a place like Chicago? Probably did.”

  The sheriff didn’t say anything.

  “The average walking speed is three miles an hour, so it’s going to take us a while to get there,” Henry said.

  “If we can’t find any help, you’re probably right.”

  “Got a family, Sheriff?”

  “I’m done talking.”

  “Oh, come on…”

  “Walk faster.”

  The shotgun stock rammed into his back, shoving him forward this time.

  Sensitive subject. Good. Getting away from this guy might be easier than I thought.

  Chapter Seven

  If there was one thing Leland hated more than picking up convicts in the middle of the night, it was picking up talkative convicts in the middle of the night. It wasn’t the talking so much as Henry trying to get under his skin. Normally, Leland liked to talk as long as he was the facilitator. If he could steer the conversation, he was happy. That was probably why he talked so much. The more he said, the less time the other party had to ask questions about him. The less he had to navigate his complex world of emotions. Talking was his defense, and now Henry was trying to use it against him.

  Shrewd son of a—

  “I have some family. In Chicago,” Henry said.

  “You kill one of them?”

  Henry turned his head and glared at him. “No, I didn’t kill one of them.”

  Leland motioned for him to keep moving. “I figured you might have. I don’t know your case. You killed somebody though.”

  Henry was silent. It was an easy nerve to find, and Leland pushed it further.

  “Was it a crime of passion or a ruthless execution? Do you feel good about what you did?”

  “I’m not sorry about what I did, I can say that much.”

  “So, you did do it? I figured you would deny it. Say you were wrongfully imprisoned.”

  “Well, that’s all perspective, isn’t it, Sheriff? I don’t deny killing someone, but that doesn’t mean I deserve to be in prison for it.”

  “Well, if your killing was against the law, which, without a doubt it was, then you deserve to be in prison for it.”

  “You ever killed someone, Sheriff?”

  Leland let the question hang in the air for a moment as they walked. He hadn’t expected it. More than that, he hadn’t expected the wave of guilt that had come over him when asked.

  Henry was good at hitting his nerves.

  “I have,” Leland said.

  “And you feel like you had the right to do it?”

  Leland didn’t answer. Instead, he heard screams in his head. Terrible screams. Screams of a father holding his lifeless daughter. The kind of screams that chilled him to the bone—the kind that jerked him awake at night in a cold sweat.

  “I feel like I had a right to do so,” Henry continued.

  “But you didn’t,” Leland said, his voice quieter.

  “Why not?”

  “Because you went to prison, that’s why.”

  “So, what about your kill? Did you have to kill him? Was there really no other way to end the situation?”

  Leland swore, though he knew he shouldn’t have. He let Henry know he was getting to him.

  “We’re not talking anymore. We’ve both killed someone. You’re the one with cuffs on. There’s your answer.”

  Henry didn’t say anything for several long minutes, but Leland bet there was a smile on his face. Henry had gotten to Leland, but he wasn’t going to let it affect him. He held tight to his shotgun and they kept a steady but slow pace.

  The trees on either side of the road covered the moonlight, and Leland could barely see three feet in front of him. He didn’t like walking so close to Henry in the dark like this. He knew there was a clearing up around the bend, but if he lost sight of the prisoner here he might not be able to find him.

  He’d been disappointed when he discovered his flashlight didn’t work. It made him nervous, but once they cleared the bend, the moonlight would help for a while.

  To his relief, Henry didn’t try to run. When they cleared the tree line, the moon washed the whole landscape in a pale blue light. He could see Henry well enough to allow a couple of extra paces between them.

  Up the hill was a house owned by Ralph Pennington, who had been there with his family for twenty years. Leland didn’t see any lights in the distance, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. It was late, and if the outage extended this far, then Ralph probably didn’t even know it yet.

  The two of them walked the driveway until they came to the front door. Leland grabbed Henry by the cuffs and pulled him in front.

  “What are you doing?” Henry said with a scowl.

  “Two things. I don’t want you to run off while my back is turned, and if Mr. Pennington is a little drowsy and meets us with a gun, well, I would rather you leave this world before me.”

  “Great.”

  Leland tried ringing the doorbell a couple of times, but there was no sound. Not a good sign. Then he banged on the door, and soon he could hear footsteps in the house.

  “It’s Sheriff West. Don’t be alarmed.”

  There was no light in the foyer, and the front porch light didn’t turn on before someone unlocked the front door and inched it open.

  “Who is it?”

  “I said it’s Sheriff West. I need your help.”

  The door opened wider, revealing a bald man with a hooked nose and stooped back. He held a pistol in his hand but didn’t point it at them.

  “Who’s your friend there?”

  “A fugitive.”

  “Sorry, the lights aren’t working,” Ralph said.

  “Yeah, I was afraid of that,” Leland said. “You wouldn’t happen to have a working vehicle I could borrow, would you? In all this mess, I seem to be up a
creek without a paddle.”

  “What mess?”

  “Power is out all over the county it seems, and I need to get this one back to jail,” Leland said.

  “What’s wrong with your car?”

  “Dead, just like your lights. Everything. Check your phone, too.”

  Ralph held up a finger and walked to his kitchen, then he came back, shaking his head. “Nothing. Let me grab my keys.”

  Leland pulled Henry from the front porch and they waited in the front yard.

  “You know, I’ve heard of things like this,” Henry said.

  “Like what?”

  “Mass power outages. Could be a nuclear attack or a large solar flare.”

  Leland had heard of such a thing too, but he hadn’t given it much thought. More than likely there was a major issue at the power plant over in the next county that would be resolved before anyone in Hope was awake.

  Ralph came back out with his boots on, sliding his sleeves into a jacket to stave off the cold. “You leave your coat in the car?”

  “I let the boy at Fristo’s use it,” Leland said with some regret in his tone. “He didn’t have much left on him after this one stole his clothes.”

  Ralph looked at Henry with a raised eyebrow but only grunted.

  The two followed Ralph to his car in the driveway. He pulled out his keys and turned the ignition, but nothing happened. After another attempt, he went to his truck parked on the other side and tried the same thing.

  Nothing.

  “This doesn’t seem right,” Ralph said.

  “No, it doesn’t,” Leland said, looking at the ground. “I have to get him back to Lone Oak.”

  “You need help?”

  “No, that’s a few miles down the road. Can’t ask you to do that. Besides, I’m sure I’ll get help before I even get there. Who knows where the power outage cuts off?”

  “Well, sorry I couldn’t have been more helpful, Sheriff.”

  “Sorry I woke you in the middle of the night.”

  “I don’t think I will be able to sleep now,” he said. “The cars not working is so strange to me.”

  “Can’t say I like it either.”

  “So, I guess you haven’t been able to call Gwen?”

  Leland winced, and he hoped Henry didn’t notice.

  “I haven’t,” he said.

  “Well, good luck. Hopefully this gets figured out before you get to the prison.”

  “I appreciate it,” Leland said. He nodded at Ralph and pushed Henry by the cuffs until they reached the road, then he let go and kept a few feet back.

  The question was inevitable, and the redness was already starting to creep up his neck.

  “So,” Henry said. “Who is Gwen? Is she pretty?”

  Leland didn’t answer.

  “I bet she is,” Henry said. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have made the face you did when that guy mentioned her.”

  The red had traveled from his neck to his cheeks, and he could feel his knuckles clenching around the shotgun.

  “I think if she were your wife you probably would have said something by now,” Henry pressed. “I’m betting she’s your daughter. Man, you must be really worried about her right now. Power outage. Convict on the loose. It would be a shame if I got away and found out where you lived. I could…”

  Leland smashed the butt of his shotgun into Henry’s back, knocking him to the road. He felt blind, like something else had taken over his body and his arms were flailing out of control. He brought the gun down again, then again, hitting Henry in the ribs. The next time he brought it down, he hit the asphalt. Before he realized it, his legs had been swept out from under him, and he was on his back in the middle of the road.

  The wind had been knocked out of him, and he fought to catch his breath.

  His hands were empty.

  When he looked up, he saw Henry with his arms in front of him instead of behind. Then he saw him reach down for the pistol at Leland’s side. Leland moved to stop him, but a set of knuckles connected with his jaw, knocking the back of his head into the road. Leland reached down for his pistol, but Henry was already running with it toward the cover of trees in the distance.

  Leland grabbed the shotgun off the ground and thought about letting off a round or two, but it wouldn’t have helped him in the dark. He got up to his knees and swore, then he took off running after the fugitive.

  Chapter Eight

  There was supposed to be a protocol for this kind of thing. A mass power outage would have kicked on the backup generators, which would allow every staff member within the prison more than enough time to get to where they and the prisoners needed to be in case the issue couldn’t be fixed in time.

  Alex thought this had something to do with the escaped convict from earlier in the night, but how could he have done this kind of damage? No. This was something worse. He couldn’t confirm much, but he knew prisoners had gotten out and had begun springing other prisoners from their cells one-by-one.

  There had been gunfire. A lot of it at first. Now all he heard were yells, screams, even laughter. He smelled smoke. They were probably all out and looking for guards.

  For Alex and the other guard in the room, it was no longer a matter of containing the problem. It was a matter of staying where they were.

  “Did you hear that?” Roger was sweating profusely, unable to stabilize his shaking limbs while gripping his shotgun.

  “I hear a lot of things,” Alex said. He was probably just as nervous as Roger, but his body didn’t react to fear as Roger’s did. He felt an unusual calm that actually disturbed him. Almost as if he had resigned himself to dying. This wasn’t his first life-threatening situation.

  How long had this been going on? An hour? Two hours?

  They had put the prison on lockdown after discovering that Henry Tash had escaped, then the power went out. Not just the power. But the radios. The keycard entries. Guards without manual keys had been stuck where they were and had to face off against angry prisoners. Without communication and a way to coordinate, the guards didn’t stand a chance.

  Prison cells had maglocks that were designed to remain in the locked position in case of a failure. But Alex had heard some talk on the radio earlier in the night. There had been several groups of prisoners taken out of their cells for questioning—people who had been seen with or perhaps knew Henry Tash.

  Alex’s only guess was that those prisoners attacked when the power went out, then made their way to the cells with someone’s key.

  “You know they’re coming for us, right?” Roger wiped his brow with his sleeve.

  Alex knew. This area belonged to the chief of security, but he had been with the warden when the questioning started. Alex and Roger had been assigned to stand watch over this room during the lockdown, and he wondered if it had been the best decision. It meant he was in charge of the control center key cabinet. It was more than a cabinet, of course, rather a vault that held the keys for every part of the prison in case manual operation was needed. He had access to every key—everything from prison cells to the gate to get out of the facility.

  Prisoners knew about this room, too. Many of them no doubt fantasized about a night like this where they could storm the room and take whatever keys they needed, then run away free.

  But they can’t get in here, he thought.

  His job now was to make sure this room was the most secure. An inmate may have found a way to escape the prison, but they wouldn’t get into this room. They could fire shotguns, rifles, whatever they wanted, but they wouldn’t get in here.

  This was quite the responsibility for two people so young as Alex and Roger. Roger had been here less than a year and wasn’t a week older than twenty-three. Alex was twenty-nine and had worked in the prison for half a decade now. He had seen enough to know what kind of trouble they were in. But he also knew enough to stay where he was no matter what was about to happen. That was how they would survive. That was how they would keep the prisoners fro
m escaping.

  This wasn’t the first time he’d been holed up in a room, waiting for the enemy to find him, though the last time he was in a much less secure location. Fresh out of high school, he had been more than eager to sign up for the Army, but two tours and being captured by the Jihadists was enough for him to call it quits when his time was up.

  Nothing had been as scary as that.

  Nothing.

  He watched through the bulletproof window down a hallway. A thin row of windows near the ceiling cast enough moonlight for him to see the door at the other end that was less secure, and if they had the firepower, prisoners would get through that. But they would get to the glass, make their threats, shoot their guns, and Alex would just sit back and wait. Backup would come eventually. He didn’t have access to food or water in here, but it would be hours, at most a day before law enforcement overtook the prisoners.

  “They can’t hurt us in here,” Alex said to Roger.

  “You’re not afraid?”

  “Of course I am, but I also know there is nothing that can get through that door.”

  Roger seemed to ease with Alex’s words. Roger was the nervous type, always bringing up the worst possible scenario for every situation. The man wasn’t meant for a job in a prison like this. Minimum security, maybe.

  Alex fiddled with his radio again. He pulled out his cell phone one more time. Those two things alone made him think this had nothing to do with the escape earlier. Cutting off power to the prison would be crazy in and of itself. Cutting off power to remote devices? That just didn’t make any sense.

  The door at the end of the hallway burst open with a bang. A group of inmates came storming toward them, the leader holding a shotgun in his hands. Alex’s shoulders slumped as he watched them march. A few of them grimaced in anger. Others looked nervous and wide-eyed. Some seemed like they wanted blood. He had known the far-off screams and chaos meant death. But to see the prisoners with guns from other guards confirmed the slaughter.

  The lead prisoner, a man with tattoos etched on his face and neck, didn’t hesitate as he lifted the shotgun and sprayed the bullet-proof glass with pellets. The pellets scattered, leaving behind a cloudy surface on the glass. Next, the prisoner aimed for the door lock and fired off three shells, but the door remained shut. It would take more than gunfire to get through that lock.