The Doomsday Series Box Set | Books 1-5

by Akart, Bobby

  “Daddy, can we turn on the New Year’s party in New York?”

  Will’s face turned ashen and he quickly responded. His children had seen enough excitement for one night. “No, baby girl. We missed it anyway, and it’s late for you both. Let’s get your brother fixed up and you guys settled in bed.”

  He led them to the couch, and to ensure they followed his instructions, he slyly retrieved the cable box remote off the sofa table and slid it into his pocket.

  Will gathered up what he needed to attend to Ethan’s wound together with one of his Philadelphia Phillies sweatshirts to replace his son’s bloodstained shirt. When he returned to the living room, Ethan was standing in front of a painting on the wall above the fireplace.

  “Hey, Dad, what’s this? I don’t remember it from the first time we were here.”

  Will hesitated and then responded, “Oh, that. It’s a painting.”

  “Of a triangle, Daddy?” asked Skylar.

  “Well, not exactly a triangle, baby girl, although it looks like one. It’s a Greek symbol or, in this case, a letter.”

  Will helped Ethan remove his bloody shirt and then gently pulled the Phillies sweatshirt over his head, avoiding the wound in the process. He used a warm, wet cloth to wipe the dried blood off his face and then used alcohol wipes to cleanse the wound.

  Finally, he applied Polysporin ointment rather than the more commonly used Neosporin. They both had the same active ingredients except Neosporin also contained neomycin, which had been associated with allergic reactions and contact dermatitis.

  “Daddy, why do you have a Greek letter on your wall?” his daughter innocently persisted out of curiosity.

  Will thought about his answer. “Well, it’s sort of, um, part of a club that I’m involved with. You know, like a second job.”

  “What’s it stand for?” asked Ethan.

  “Delta.”

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Six Flags Great Adventure

  Jackson, New Jersey

  J.C. plummeted in a free fall for nearly thirty feet before the safety rope halted his descent. The belt harness around his waist knocked the breath out of him, and he began to gasp for air. Bent over at the waist, his arms and legs dangled toward the ground.

  The rope, which was now stretched between the safety bars, was swinging back and forth slightly, but at that height, it moved J.C.’s body ten to fifteen feet with each swing.

  “Hold on, honey!” yelled Angela.

  Tyler swung around and positioned himself in the car where J.C. had been sitting. “Grab the rope, everyone. Angela, grab the rope and pull!”

  Tyler wedged his legs into the hood of the coaster car to gain leverage. Kaycee crawled behind him and straddled his back to get into a tug-of-war position. Behind them, Angela wedged herself into a crouched position so she could use her legs to pull the safety rope too.

  “Hang on, buddy, we’ll get you!” shouted Tyler.

  Although they couldn’t see J.C. because he was hanging out of view, they could hear and feel him struggling.

  “Can’t breathe,” they could hear J.C. whisper in between gasps.

  Tyler had dealt with this before, both as a lifeguard and as an emergency medical technician. When a sudden force is applied to the abdomen, it puts pressure on a group of nerves at the pit of the stomach. This causes a spasm of the body’s diaphragm. Instead of functioning to pull air into the lungs when the body breathes, it stops functioning temporarily, which results in a lack of air to the lungs.

  He knew he had to keep J.C. calm and encouraged him to take deep breaths. His body would recover shortly as long as there weren’t other internal injuries.

  “Keep cool, J.C. You’ve got this!” shouted Kaycee.

  “Try to take deep breaths, son. You’re almost here.”

  The three of them continued to tug at the rope, hand over hand, until J.C. was rising a foot at a time. Their frantic tugs were working, and the slack in the rope began to pool around Tyler’s feet.

  He could hear J.C. heaving, his young chest inhaling air too fast. Tyler didn’t need him to hyperventilate now. With his head below his body, it would be easy for him to become unconscious.

  “We have to hurry,” he growled as he urged Angela and Kaycee on. They continued to pull the safety rope until J.C.’s back appeared at the sloped hood of the coaster.

  “There he is!” shouted Angela. “There he is!”

  The three of them kept pulling until the youngest Rankin was in easy grasp of Tyler. He grabbed his safety belt and pulled him into the coaster until he was cradled in his lap.

  “We’ve got you, son,” said Tyler as tears streamed down his face.

  Angela was leaning against the back of the seat and stretched her arm through so she could touch J.C.’s arm. The family continued to cry tears of joy until Kaycee finally spoke up.

  “Dad, you’re squishing me.”

  Tyler had been forcing his legs against the front of the car and pressing his back into Kaycee to get leverage. During the tugging process to retrieve J.C., Kaycee didn’t notice the pain as she worked with her parents to save her brother. Now she realized her dad had forgotten about her being behind him.

  “Oh, sorry, honey,” said Tyler as he relaxed his body somewhat. This allowed Kaycee to squirm in the seat and get more comfortable.

  J.C. turned his head upward and wiped the snot running out of his nose and onto his dad’s shirt. His tone was sincere. “I’m never riding a roller coaster again. Never. Got it?”

  The family erupted in laughter just as two firefighters arrived on both sides of their car to assist.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Congress Heights

  Washington, DC

  Hayden reached the bottom of the ladder and was immediately hugged by one of the women. Tears streamed from her eyes as she thanked Hayden over and over for returning.

  “I told you I’d return,” started Hayden before the woman interrupted.

  “Shhh. You must speak softly. The man might hear you.”

  “What man?”

  “He was just here, and he was very angry. His eyes were wild and red, like a demon. He asked about a tall woman in a long coat, and I knew he was searching for you. He looked evil and smelled like liquor.”

  Hayden cowered somewhat and immediately looked around the tunnel for her attacker. “What did you do?”

  “I told him you went farther into the tunnel along the tracks. He believed me and left. But he might come back, so we must hurry.”

  Hayden exhaled and began passing out instructions. She sent the mother of the toddler up the stairs first, followed by a young boy of seven or eight years old. Hayden picked up the toddler and held her tight against her chest. The young child wrapped her arms and legs around Hayden.

  With her hands free, she immediately climbed the ladder behind the first two to escape the hellish conditions in the tunnel. Once topside, she breathed in the fresh air and prepared herself for the next, more difficult task.

  She shook her arms to relax and then descended the rungs once again. At the bottom, she sent the remaining women and children up the ladder one by one until she was last, along with the young girl and her badly sprained ankle.

  Hayden helped the girl to her feet and placed her hands on both her shoulders. “Okay, are you ready to do this?”

  The young girl nodded her head.

  “Good. Now, how much do you weigh?”

  “Forty-two pounds.”

  Hayden allowed herself a chuckle. “Well, you are a very pretty forty-two-pounder.”

  “I’m afraid,” the young girl began to whimper and then added, “but I want to be brave too.”

  Hayden knelt in front of her and smiled. “Honey, being brave doesn’t mean not being afraid. It means being afraid and doing it anyway.”

  The little girl wiped away her tears and nodded, acknowledging that she was ready to go.

  Hayden turned around in her crouch and faced the ladder. She instru
cted the child to wrap her arms around Hayden’s neck and her legs around her waist. The child groaned slightly as she tucked her heels tight into Hayden’s midsection, but she’d developed a newfound form of bravery thanks to Hayden’s encouraging words.

  With a deep breath to gather all of her strength, Hayden began to slowly climb upward, focusing on one rung at a time while offering reassuring words to the child, who held her in a death grip. Minutes later, they safely arrived to reunite with everyone.

  After several minutes of muted celebration, Hayden led the group away from the freeway and toward the west of the air vent. As they walked through the empty field, more buildings came into view, and when she saw a Lifeflight helicopter soar over their heads, she knew they were heading in the direction of Unity Healthcare hospital near the intersection of Martin Luther King Jr. Avenue and Malcolm X Avenue.

  “Follow me,” she instructed as the group continued toward the lighted buildings. The young girl with the sprained ankle hobbled along with the assistance of her mother and the other woman. Hayden carried the youngest child and did her best to keep control of the three other children, who were now enjoying the adventure.

  The group reached MLK Avenue and began walking down the sidewalk. Cars sped past in both directions, ignoring the group, which was obviously hobbling along. Hayden didn’t want to flag down a car and lend the appearance they were in distress. Instead, she powered up her phone and navigated to her Uber app.

  She summoned two cars, one for the group of women and children to pile into for further delivery to the hospital. The other for her to get home. This had been a New Year’s Eve to remember.

  She rode in silence as the driver made his way to her condominium overlooking the Potomac River. The Jamaican-born woman was playing reggae music that Hayden enjoyed, so rather than immediately turning to her smartphone to determine the cause of the power outage, she chose to relax, allowing her two worlds to meet, and think about what she would do first when she got home. Pop a bottle of Cabernet or take a shower. Or both.

  After paying the driver a handsome tip in cash, she made her way through the secured entrance and was pleased that the lobby of her building was devoid of neighbors. She looked like a hot mess and smelled even worse. After steeling her nerves for yet another elevator ride, she found her way to the top floor of the building. Her body was flooded with emotion and relief as she entered her home.

  Hayden, who lived alone, didn’t hesitate to strip all of her grimy clothes off and left them in a pile by the front door. She looked around for a moment and considered turning on the lights but allowed the glow from the city to serve as the minimal light she needed to find her way to the shower.

  “Prowler, where are you? You are an insubordinate, ungrateful cat. I know your mommy stinks like, um, subway, sewer, and dumpster combined. But I could really use a friend right now.”

  It was not unusual for her Maine coon cat to punish Hayden when he’d been left alone all day. He was stubbornly independent and smarter than any dog she’d ever had. She suspected the long separation of the day and the stench, which had filled the usually clean-smelling condo, kept Prowler hidden somewhere, which was hard to do considering his size. He weighed more than the toddler she’d carried up the ladder earlier.

  When she walked past the kitchen, she noticed it was almost midnight, but that didn’t matter anymore. Hayden found the shower and spent the first five minutes allowing the hot water to wash away the memories of the evening. Refreshed, she prepared to celebrate with her best friend, assuming they were on speaking terms again.

  Hayden dried off the excess water, brushed out her hair, and cuddled up in her favorite plush robe. As soon as she arrived in the kitchen and flicked on the lights, Prowler emerged from a darkened corner of the open loft and immediately began walking figure eights through her legs.

  “Oh, I see how it is. In my time of need, you pretend to be sleeping. Now that I’m all cleaned up, we’re besties again.”

  Hayden quickly fed Prowler a plastic tub of Purina Beneful real beef dog food—his favorite. He was mostly a dog anyway.

  After the day she’d had, a glass of Cabernet was much preferred to her Perrier. She poured a glass and immediately took a sip, allowing the warmth to ease down her throat. She made her way into the living area and retrieved the remote off her coffee table.

  Without looking, she powered on her television and moseyed over to the floor-to-ceiling windows of her condo to admire the views of the Potomac and the city beyond. The news anchor interrupted her thoughts and quickly grabbed her attention.

  “We have breaking news from New York.”

  Hayden tilted her head and said, “New York? Don’t you mean Washington?”

  She spun around, and the chaotic scene that filled the screen was unfathomable.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Hyatt Centric Times Square

  New York City

  With the presence of the Clintons in the hotel, Secret Service protection was extraordinary. Now that New York City was under attack, the Hyatt had been placed on lockdown. They were refusing to grant access to anyone except registered guests. Tom had their room key card in his pocket and was also able to use his phone to show the email confirming their reservation. He was certain he could get inside except for the crowd of people in his way, cramming themselves against the glass entry.

  Most of the crowd was not staying at the hotel. They were only panicked revelers seeking a safe haven. The security personnel at the single entrance door next to the revolving doors, which had been locked, were growing increasingly frustrated with the interlopers. He threatened to close the hotel to everyone, causing an immediate uproar from those guests like the Sheltons who were trying to gain entry.

  “Out of my way!” shouted a man from the rear of the pack on the far side of the entrance.

  “If you’re not staying here, go somewhere else,” yelled another.

  “Screw you! We need help!” a woman near the front responded.

  “Screw me? No, screw you!” the second man bellowed before grabbing the woman by the back of the coat and pulling her onto the ground. The pack immediately inched forward to fill the void left by her flailing body, which was getting kicked and stepped on.

  People began pushing and shoving. The security personnel started screaming at them to calm down. Tom looked back and forth to assess his options. All he needed was an opening, just enough to push his way to the front so he could show the security guards his key card and identification.

  They say you should never shout fire in a crowded theater to avoid causing an unnecessary panic. In this day and age, fire didn’t frighten anybody, but yelling gun did. Tom took a risk that might backfire, but it was all he had.

  He turned to Donna and whispered, “Dear, be ready to follow me. We’ll only have a few seconds.”

  Donna stared in his eyes and nodded. “I’m ready.”

  “Keep your hands on my shoulder for support. Here we go.”

  Tom took a deep breath, studied the people blocking their access to the door one more time, and then he shouted as loud as he could to be heard over the scrum gathered around the entrance.

  “Gun! Everybody run! He’s got a gun!”

  His gamble paid off. Shrieks of fear filled the air as those at the back of the pack immediately ran into the oncoming masses of people still fleeing Times Square.

  As some of the people gathered around the door repeated the word gun, those close to the door followed their lead, assuming that the gunman was in close proximity to Tom’s voice. They created an opening, and Tom and Donna shot the gap, slipping between the wall and the group trying to escape his voice.

  Within seconds, he’d reached the plate-glass door and pressed his room key card together with his driver’s license against the glass door.

  The security guard scrolled through an iPad and found Tom’s name on the guest list. He shouted above the fracas, “Room number?”

  “Twenty-six twenty-si
x!” Tom shouted back.

  The security guard turned the key in the lock, opening it slightly. He grabbed Tom by the arm to pull him inside. Donna hopped along behind her husband just as the security guard forced the door shut on a man who tried to force himself inside.

  Donna groaned in pain as her injured ankle got caught in the door, but she quickly shook it off. They were safe, for now.

  Tom helped his wife through the lobby filled with suddenly sober hotel guests discussing the evening’s events. Many were speculating the nation was under attack based upon the news reports. Tom glanced at the monitors in the lobby bar and noticed CNN was broadcasting from several locations around the country.

  He decided there would be time to catch up on what had happened after he and Donna were safely in their room. They stopped by the front desk and requested an ACE bandage out of the hotel’s medical supplies. The staff also provided him a bottle of ibuprofen. After the assistant manager reminded Tom and Donna about the RICE method of dealing with sprains—rest, ice, compression, and elevation—they made their way to the room and quickly found the bed, where the two collapsed in exhaustion.

  After several minutes of relative silence in which the only noise they heard was the sound of screaming coming from twenty-six floors below, Tom suggested they get out of their clothes. He didn’t want any radioactive particles on their other belongings.

  Once they’d changed, he bundled the clothes up in the duvet cover and stuffed it into the closet. Then he wrapped Donna’s ankle and slipped out of the room to retrieve a couple of buckets of ice—one for the ankle and the other for the champagne they’d intended to drink at midnight.

  “Tom, are we gonna talk about what’s going on? How could terrorists miss detection by Tommie and the government?”