The Doomsday Series Box Set | Books 1-5

by Akart, Bobby

  “How’d we do?”

  “He’s the poorest one yet,” the man replied in disgust. “Fifty bucks and some plastic.”

  The leader voiced his disappointment. “That sucks.”

  “I’m done with this crap, man. Let’s get the hell outta here.”

  The woman agreed. “Yeah, we can burn through these credit cards on the other side and then head up to Wilmington. They’re tearin’ up the town, from what the news said.”

  “We’ll take the new guy’s car,” began the leader. “If we see any cops, we’ll tell ’em to hurry. Man, we’ll be long gone before they figure it out.”

  Tyler’s eyes grew wide as he tried to come up with a way to warn Angela. He wiggled around to get a better view of his surroundings, hoping to find some way to signal to her. There were no options and he was too late. The trio left the hostages and split up.

  The woman left first, finding her way between the camper and the pickup as Tyler had done. The leader circled around the front of the pickup, his feet shuffling along as he squeezed between the bumper and the wall. The man who tied up Tyler walked around the back of the camper, kicking Tyler in the side one more time as he walked past.

  Tyler closed his eyes and concentrated. He felt helpless. His only option was to try to be seen by Angela, so he forced himself to roll over in an attempt to reach the underside of the camper. Wedged against the tires, his progress was stopped, and all he could do was listen to what was happening.

  “That’s close enough!” Angela shouted. “Don’t take another step.”

  “Or what, lady?”

  “I’ll drop you to the ground, as in dead!”

  Tyler had never heard Angela like this. Her voice reflected a combination of anger and crazy.

  The attacker’s steps slowed but didn’t stop. Each of them inched forward toward the Bronco, hesitating at first and then, emboldened by their numbers, pressed the attack.

  “Come on, lady,” the leader continued. “You got a gun or somethin’? You ain’t gonna shoot it.”

  “Try me,” snarled Angela.

  The man nearest Tyler laughed and lowered his voice. “Give it up. You ain’t shootin’ nobody.”

  “Really?” Angela asked sarcastically. “Who wants to be first?”

  “Step aside and give us your truck!” the woman shouted at Angela.

  “No!”

  “Lady, you ain’t no killer,” the leader shouted as he picked up the pace and approached the truck.

  “No, I’m a mother!”

  Angela quickly fired two rounds into the man’s torso, the explosive report of the powerful .45-caliber weapon echoed off the tunnel’s walls.

  “Billy!” exclaimed the woman as she could be heard rushing to the leader’s side.

  “Damn you!” shouted the other man as he dashed toward Angela.

  Two more shots rang out, and the sound of the large man’s body crashing into the grille of the Bronco could be heard, indicating the second attacker had been hit.

  Suddenly, the woman jumped between the camper and the pickup, dashing through the tied-up bodies, but she didn’t escape. Two of the men tied together rolled over in unison and tripped her, causing her to stumble and crash to the pavement before striking her head on another car.

  Tyler could hear her scrambling to get up, and the grunts of the hostages told the story. Working together, several of the tied-up pairs hopped on their butts until they were on top of the woman, pinning her down so she couldn’t get away.

  Seconds later, Angela emerged around the wrecked camper, swinging the gun from side to side, searching for a target.

  “Tyler!” she shouted.

  He grunted his response and tried to wiggle out of the restraints. She rushed to his side and loosened the cloth used to gag him.

  “Are they dead?” he asked.

  “Oh, yeah,” she replied. “How many more?”

  Still gasping for air, Tyler said, “Just her. Make sure that one doesn’t get away.”

  Angela made her way around the tied-up bodies and only stumbled once as she found the men sitting on the injured woman who’d been part of the attack. The woman was struggling to get up, but the more she did, the more the men pushed the weight of their bodies down on her back.

  Angela removed their gags so they could speak. “Are you guys okay?”

  “Sure,” replied the younger of the two. “Can you untie us?”

  “Hang on,” she replied. She swung around and ran back to the Bronco. As she cleared the camper, she found the kids, who’d left the Bronco. They were staring at the dead man who’d collapsed against the truck’s grille.

  “Kids, I said stay down in the backseat.” She used her arms to herd them away from the dead body.

  “Sorry, Mom, but we knew they were dead.”

  “Yes, Kaycee, they are. And I really didn’t want you to see this. Please get back in the truck.”

  “Okay,” said a dejected J.C.

  Angela made sure they were secure, and then she retrieved Tyler’s knife from his backpack. She returned to the hostages, and despite her concern for her husband, she untied the two men holding the woman down first. They immediately returned the favor and trussed the woman up, facedown on the concrete highway.

  After she untied Tyler, she checked on everyone to see if anyone had more serious injuries. While she checked her husband’s protruding knot on the back of his head and his tender ribs, sirens could be heard in the tunnel, although the echo effect obscured the direction they were coming from.

  She helped Tyler to his feet, and they made their way back to the Bronco. In her backpack, she kept several instant ice compresses. The single-use packets provided pain relief from sprains to bee stings to nasty bumps on the head. She simply squeezed the packet and shook it vigorously, resulting in an icy cold method of reducing the swollen knot on Tyler’s head.

  “Okay, your ribs aren’t broken, but they are bruised.”

  Tyler nodded and said, “It hurts to breathe, especially when I inhale.”

  “Understandable. Until you heal, you’ll be taking more shallow breaths. I’m gonna give you some Advil for your pain. You really need another ice packet, but both injuries are on your right side. I’ve got some KT Tape in my bag. I’m gonna wrap it around your midsection and then add two more ice compresses. I’ll wrap them in place until we can get you to a hospital.”

  “No,” said Tyler, taking shallow breaths in between sentences. “Home. Let’s get home.”

  “Okay, okay,” she said with a laugh. She pulled out the Kinesio tape, an elastic cotton strip with an acrylic adhesive used to create a snug fit. “Hold still while I get you taped up. Then I’m gonna check with the police who just showed up.”

  Tyler nodded and allowed his wife, the ER doctor, to patch him up. Before she could get him into the truck, two police officers emerged between the pickup and camper with their weapons drawn. They immediately checked the pulse of the two dead attackers and cautiously approached the Bronco.

  “Are you folks all right?” the female officer asked.

  “Yes, my husband’s banged up, but we’re better than those two. I’m Dr. Angela Rankin.”

  The male officer addressed Angela. “Dr. Rankin, I’m Officer Francis, and this is my partner, Officer Wilson. Um, ma’am, did you shoot these two men?”

  “I did,” she quickly replied.

  “We’re gonna need the gun, please, ma’am. It’s just procedure.”

  “Sure, I understand,” replied Angela as she reached behind her back and pulled the handgun from the waistband of her jeans. She held the barrel with her fingers and handed it to the officer like she was holding a dead rat by the tail.

  “Thank you.” The female officer led the conversation while the other officer placed the weapon in a plastic baggie he retrieved out of his rear pocket. “Please stay with your vehicle while we process the scene. Detectives are on their way and will need to take your statements. Do you understand?”

&n
bsp; “Yes, of course,” replied Angela.

  “Do you folks have ID?”

  Angela retrieved her license from her pocket and handed it to the officer. She looked at it in the truck’s headlights. Tyler explained that his was on the ground behind the camper. After a few more instructions, Angela got Tyler settled in the passenger seat. She walked around the back of the Bronco to avoid stepping on the dead man who was bleeding out on the pavement.

  For a minute, the family sat in the truck before Angela found the presence of mind to shut off the ignition. After the police officers established temporary lighting in the tunnel, she turned off the headlights as well.

  An ambulance arrived together with an investigative unit that would undertake the hours-long, arduous task of processing this crime scene. Ten minutes had passed, and none of the Rankins spoke a word until J.C. broke the silence.

  His innocent words saddened Angela, who never wanted her children exposed to something like this.

  “Mom, dead people don’t really look like they’re sleeping.”

  He was right. There was nothing peaceful about being dead.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Naval Station Norfolk

  Norfolk, Virginia

  It was late evening when the USS Virginia arrived at the Naval Station in Norfolk, Virginia. The base was the home port of four carrier strike groups and their assigned ships. In addition, the six submarines of the Atlantic Fleet, now supplemented with the Virginia, occupied what was generally recognized as the world’s largest naval station.

  While on board, Donna was seen by one of the specially designated doctors who’d been awarded the Submarine Medical Insignia. He’d been through medical exercises and qualification measures in submarine warfare. The additional training required for the special designation included radiation health, diving medicine, and submarine medicine.

  Life aboard a submarine has been described as raunchy, cramped, and occasionally, the underwater vessel literally smells like a porta-potty. It took a psychological toll on the submariners. There were additional risks, however.

  Every day at sea brings with it a certain amount of risk, including exposure to radiation. Nearly one-third of the Virginia’s interior was made up of nuclear components related to powering the vessel and its payload of armaments.

  Tom, who was invited to spend some time with Commander Anderson, enjoyed a tour of the Virginia and hung out for a while in the submarine’s control room and attack center.

  The doctor bandaged Donna’s ankle to immobilize it, allowing Donna to put more weight on it as she walked. As he cared for her, they discussed her cancer and the effect radiation exposure might have on her remission status.

  Since Donna was alone with the doctor, she told him about being in Times Square. The doctor confided in her that the Department of Defense believed the drones were equipped with dirty bombs. He went on to explain the impact that might have on her remission from the breast cancer and what signs to watch for in the future.

  Donna was initially distraught, but the doctor quickly reassured her that the chances of her body ingesting enough of the radiological material to set her back were slim. He provided her a sedative and suggested rest was absolutely necessary for her ankle, and her state of mind.

  She eventually shook off the negative thoughts and allowed the sleeping aid to work its magic. When Tom awakened her, she’d slept the entire trip from Groton to Norfolk.

  “Dear, Commander Anderson has a car waiting for us. All military installations in the country have been placed on their highest level of readiness.”

  “I slept like a baby,” she mumbled as she sat upright in her bunk. “There’s something to this sleeping while on the water.”

  Tom laughed and helped her get ready. She was able to put more weight on her ankle now, so moving about was much easier. Within ten minutes, they’d gathered their belongings and were escorted onto dry land, where a base police vehicle awaited.

  It was late that evening as they drove from the naval base to the city of Norfolk. Their plan was to secure a hotel room, rent a car, and study the news reports so they could make a decision. The MP apologized for rushing them off the base. Naval Station Norfolk, like all military installations around the country, had been placed on the highest level of security alert.

  After 9/11, the Department of Defense established a terrorist threat system known as Force Protection Condition, FPCON for short. The five levels of protection range from FPCON Normal, which applies to a situation of no terrorist activity, up to FPCON Delta, describing a situation when a terrorist attack had taken place or was occurring in the immediate area of the base.

  This was a red flag to Tom as to the position the DOD had taken following the New Year’s Eve attacks. Their intelligence must have indicated future terrorist attacks were imminent for them to place all military facilities on FPCON Delta—the highest state of alert. In fact, if this designation had been made before they boarded the Virginia, even Trowbridge’s connections couldn’t have gained the Sheltons passage on the submarine.

  As they drove down the Hampton Roads Beltway toward town, half a dozen police cars and emergency vehicles raced past them with their sirens and emergency lights fully operational.

  “Wow!” exclaimed Donna, fully recovered from her Ambien-induced deep sleep. “Something big must’ve happened.”

  The military police officer provided an explanation. “We constantly monitor local law enforcement frequencies in case something outside the base develops into a threat to our security. That’s especially true since last night.”

  “Makes sense,” interjected Tom, who’d had the same procedures established for Joint Base Charleston.

  “Yes, sir. Anyway, the locals kicked it into high gear a little while ago. Apparently, there was a multicar collision in Chessie that escalated into something far worse.”

  “Chessie?” asked Donna.

  “Oh, sorry, ma’am. Chessie is the nickname for the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel. The accident blocked both lanes of the tunnel, but that’s only part of it. There have been reports of hostages and shots fired inside. SWAT teams have been dispatched and also ambulances, as injuries, even fatalities, are presumed.”

  “Great,” began Tom. “It seems to be a sign of the times.”

  “Yes, sir,” said the driver. “I have to say, this is nothing compared to the reports coming out of DC and my hometown of Philly. The city of brotherly love is anything but that. It’s like a war zone up there. Washington has major problems, too. In DC, with transportation at a standstill, together with panic spreading down from New York into the capital, the National Guard had to step up in an effort to restore order.”

  “This happened tonight?” asked Tom.

  “No, that’s the thing about it,” replied the officer. “These savages began burning the city during the daytime, totally different from what we’ve seen in the past. Usually, once nightfall hits, the torches are lit. Not on this New Year’s Day. Cities are burning round the clock.”

  Tom leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes, wishing this nightmare would end.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  DoubleTree Hotel

  Norfolk, Virginia

  While Donna checked in at the DoubleTree Hotel near the Norfolk Airport, Tom rented a car at the twenty-four-hour kiosk operated by Payless Car Rentals. It was midnight when they were finally able to crash on top of their bed and stare at the ceiling.

  Tom spoke first. “When we got married, I promised you our lives wouldn’t be boring. I have to say, the last twenty-four hours has more than fulfilled my promise to you, Mrs. Shelton.”

  Donna laughed. “I’ve come to appreciate boring. Boring is good.”

  Tom’s fingers found his wife’s hand, and they lay there for a moment, holding one another. They joked about what they’d been through.

  “Let’s recap, shall we?” began Donna.

  “Sure, go ahead. Let’s recap then hit the minibar for a n
ightcap.”

  “You’re a poet and didn’t know it,” said Donna as she raised his hand up and down, rhythmically pounding it on the mattress.

  “Yeah, I guess so. Where do we start? Our fabulous hotel dinner for two, topped off with pricey champagne? Or should we go straight for the good stuff. You know, when we were in the middle of Times Square on New Year’s Eve, waiting for the ball to drop.”

  Donna laughed. “It’s a shame we can’t stop there, because all of those things helped fulfill one of my dreams with you.”

  “Why don’t we? Stop there, I mean. Let’s remember the experience before the world went to hell.”

  “I wish I could,” said Donna, turning suddenly serious. “We need to decide if we’re going back to Charleston or to the Haven.”

  Tom let go of her hand and sat up in bed. He found the television remote on the nightstand and began to scan the cable news networks. There weren’t any new attacks, so the reporting focused on the aftermath of the New Year’s Eve incidents.

  “It’s all the same,” said Donna. “People are looting, stealing, and acting out because they can. There aren’t enough police officers to control the rioting.”

  “The good news is only certain cities are experiencing this. The large metropolitan areas that were the brunt of the attacks are the worst.”

  Donna propped up against the headboard too, using an extra pillow to elevate her ankle. “Tom, should you reach out to Tommie? I know you have to respect her job, especially at a time like this, but we need to decide if it’s safe to go home.”

  “I could call Blair and Ryan at the Haven,” countered Tom. “They keep a pretty good pulse on these things, and I consider them both to be levelheaded.”

  “Sure, but I know what they’re gonna say,” began Donna as Tom joined her and the two spoke in unison.

  “Come to the Haven. You can always go home if nothing happens.”