IT FALLS
APART
It Falls Apart Series
Book 1
By
Barry Napier
Mike Kraus
© 2021 Muonic Press Inc
www.muonic.com
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Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
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Special Thanks
Special thanks to my awesome beta team, without whom this book wouldn’t be nearly as great.
Thank you!
It Falls Apart Book 2
Available Here
Chapter 1
The little watercraft looked like something out of a bad motel painting, meandering among the waves against the dark horizon. Yet even before the Coast Guard Response Boat pulled alongside it, Seaman Apprentice Skyler Lipscomb’s stomach turned at the sight. His body went tense and he almost feared the dumb little boat. The Patrol Cutter that had reported the boat had stated that it appeared to be an unmanned vessel. And any unmanned vessel so close to New York City was, in Skyler’s opinion, downright creepy.
Skyler was accompanied by just one other seaman and a captain currently at the helm and out of sight. The other seaman was a guy named Kentz, something of a mainstay with the NYC Coast Guard for the last few years.
In other words, Skyler was the rookie on board. In fact, this was only Skyler’s second real-life call. As the “non-rate” member of this little task, he was pretty sure they had assigned it to him not only because he’d just happened to be on duty, but because it was a harmless call that would be good practice. During the ride out, Skyler and Kentz had placed bets on what they’d find: a ship abandoned by a suicidal owner, a dead body or two, or drugs left behind by a smuggler that had lost his nerve at the last minute.
But now, it did not seem so harmless. The water was deadly still and there was no breeze; everything felt lifeless, almost stagnant. The grimy white boat in front of them looked almost threatening despite the spackled rust and slight erosion along its edges.
The captain of the response boat, a middle-aged man named Alvin Armstead, dropped the throttle as they neared the rogue boat.
“Lights,” Armstead bellowed down to them.
Kentz hopped up on the landing to the right of the helm and manned the spotlight. He switched it on and aimed it out into the water, illuminating the little boat. It looked like a small merchant vessel of some kind but there were no tags, no identifying marks, nothing. Just a dirty white boat that looked as if its maximum capacity might be ten people at most—and if even half of those ten occupants were slightly overweight, there could be issues.
Armstead dropped their boat into idle, letting it drift. His voice then came through the loudspeaker, like thunder in the otherwise quiet night. “Attention! This is the United States Coast Guard. Please come out into the open!”
The night fell into silence again as Armstead gave anyone on the boat the opportunity to respond. Ten seconds passed and there was no answer of any kind—just the lapping of water against the boat and a darkened helm that seemed to be keeping secrets. Skyler and Kentz both looked out to the boat. Everything behind it was a chalky sort of black, the flood light from their ship creating a stark contrast. No crests, no little white peaks of would-be waves. Nothing but quiet and an eerie calm. Nervous now, Skyler looked back to the helm, waiting for Armstead’s next orders.
“Last warning,” Armstead said into the loudspeaker. “You have ten seconds to respond or we will come aboard.”
Skyler found himself silently counting down. If the countdown got to ten and they had to board the vessel, it would be the most exciting thing he’d participated in since basic training.
The countdown in Skyler’s head reached ten and Armstead made a final announcement. “We are coming aboard! Be warned, we are armed.”
Armstead took a moment to mutter something into the radio at the controls, calling the events in back to base. He’d already steered so that they angled in towards the unmanned boat and drifted up alongside it with expert precision. He eyed the boat for a moment, wanting to get closer but not wanting to let their own vessel float unguided.
Everything was quiet; the sloshing of the ocean around their two boats was like ghosts murmuring.
“Weapons at the ready, men,” Armstead said.
Skyler reached for the sidearm he’d holstered back at the base, thinking even then that it was a bit much. He’d felt like a kid getting dressed for Halloween.
“Cover my six, then flank out,” Armstead said. “Lipscomb take port, Kentz take starboard.”
Skyler watched as Armstead reached out for the small ladder on the side of the boat. He threw his leg over onto the first rung and then made his way onto the rogue vessel. He took a single step and then the night was filled with a strange sound.
It wasn’t a beep, nor was it a siren. It was a whining drone, coming directly from the unmanned craft. Somewhere, either in the far distance or beneath them, Skyler thought he could hear a gradual hissing noise, like a—
“Get back,” Armstead warned. Turning to them and striding for the edge of the unmanned boat, he screamed it: “Get back! Take cover! Take—”
Another sound interrupted the night, much louder than the first; it was a sound that seemed to rip the world in half. Skyler didn’t recognize it as an explosion until after a wall of heat slammed into him and sent him flying. He was barely aware of his left leg striking the side of the response boat. He was more concerned with the feeling of being catapulted and a severe burning sensation along his chest and face.
Then, blissfully, there was the water. The burning subsided a bit, replaced by a stinging sensation, like a thousand tiny claws scratching his face. When he swam up to the surface, his eyes and mind were finally able to make sense of what had happened.
It was rigged, Skyler thought dimly. But why?
The answer was obvious, though. They were only two miles away from the coast—away from a very dense population.. Skyler turned his head to the left and though he could not see the lights of the city skyline, he knew they were there.
He became aware of someone screaming somewhere in the wet dark behind him. It was Kentz, wailing in pain. High pitched and deafening, it sent a chill down Skyler’s aching spine. He spotted Kentz quickly—a tiny bobbing mess about fifty yards away. He swam towards him, realizing that his left leg was badly injured and his face was burned. He could smell charred skin, the wafting smoke and debris of the explosion, and something almost chemical in nature.
It felt like it took forever to reach Kentz, swimming through choppy water and burned wreckage. When he drew next to him, Skyler moaned. There was a large gash in the side of Kentz’s head and though it was hard to tell in the dark water, he was fairly certain the man had lost most of his left arm.
“Hold on Kentz…it’ll be…the helicopter will…”
He looked back towards land and was surprised to see the shining light of the helicopter already there. He knew that according to protocol, the chopper would have gone airborne as a precaution the moment Armstead radioed in the “going aboard” call.
The chopper light grew closer. Beside him, Kentz’s screams were getting fainter. Skyler looked back up to the light, as if willing it to just jump the distance and get to them.
“Almost here, Kentz, hold on…”
His face stung, his left leg hurt like hell, and when he tried to imagine what had happened to Armstead, his mind went to a terrifying blank space that felt like lunacy. When he looked back up again, Skyler saw the chopper—could make out its outline and see the rescue basket coming down from the winch along the side. A rescue swimmer bobbed not too far away from him, knifing his way through the choppy water. Skyler had been in such a panic that he’d never even noticed the swimmer coming down.
The helicopter descended, making the water even harsher. Skyler kicked as much as he could to stay afloat, his left leg a root of agony. The rescue swimmer was helping him stay afloat now. He was saying something, but Skyler did not hear it. All he heard was the ocean and some sort of electric buzz of pain in his head, When the basket landed in the water just a few yards ahead of him, he grabbed it. The swimmer hauled Kentz’s body over into the basket, and then started to help Skyler inside. The helicopter spotlight shone down on them, the world going white against the dark water.
With Kentz loaded up, Skyler saw that he’d been right. Everything from Kentz’s left bicep down was gone. As the rescue swimmer did his best to steady out the basket board, Kentz opened his eyes, screamed, and threw up.
Skyler barely noticed. He was looking up to the helicopter, a black shape against the night, all whirring blades and dark curves. Among the choppy water, seeing it hovering overhead was disorienting. Still, Skyler managed to finish pulling himself into the basket with the swimmer’s assistance. The swimmer, to his credit, remained mostly in control of the moment and managed to give a thumbs-up sign to the men in the helicopter. Immediately, the rescue basket started to ascend.
As the basket rolled upwards into the night, Skyler felt his stomach churn. It was a very tight cramp of sorts, followed by a burning sensation. He gagged a bit and then he, too, vomited.
Just like Kentz. He tried to dwell on this for a moment but his mind felt fuzzy all of a sudden and the world was swaying…
He blacked out for only a few moments. One moment he was in the basket, the next he was on the helicopter floor. To his right, there was a medic working sloppily on Kentz. There was blood everywhere and Kentz was wailing again.
“What happened, man?” the pilot yelled from the front, craning his neck back to Skyler.
“Bomb,” Skyler said, feeling bile rising up in his throat again. His stomach churned. He felt like he’d just swallowed fire. “Rigged. The moment we stepped on…”
“Ah, hell,” the medic said, his voice thick with disgust and fear. He hobbled backwards, gasping for breath. Mid-gasp, a small amount of vomit escaped his lips. He clapped a hand to his mouth, clearly surprised by it. His face morphed into a knot of worry and even in the dim light of the helicopter, Skyler could see his face going red.
Skyler realized his head was thrumming. He felt very hot all of a sudden—hotter than he’d felt when the explosion had pitched him from the boat and into the water. Thoughts fired off in his mind like fractured Roman candles, and he started to make a scary sort of sense to everything.
The explosion, Kentz throwing up, and then his own violent retching. And now the medic looked like death on his feet. Even as Skyler watched, the medic was taking off his flight helmet, gasping for breath as a string of thick saliva came out of his mouth.
From up front, the pilot muttered something. Skyler heard the words “sick” and “tell” before the pilot let out a brutal-sounding cough. Skyler also heard the sound of something wet, and then the helicopter pitched forward. The co-pilot screamed, leaning over and trying to man the controls.
It happened so quickly that Skyler was tossed towards the front of the chopper. Blinking lights and wailing alarms greeted him as he slammed into the back of the pilot’s seat. Either the pilot or the co-pilot, or both, were screaming. Kentz tumbled over beside him, whimpering and covered in blood. Skyler wanted to scream but could barely bring himself to draw in a breath. His head was pounding, his entire body ached, and his stomach continued to cramp and burn.
As he looked through the helicopter windshield, he noticed that they were spinning and dropping. The water drew closer, then he caught sight of the faint New York City skyline at night, barely visible. Then another spin, more black water, the night sky, the city again…
Then, in the seconds before the rescue helicopter slammed into the ocean, Seaman Apprentice Skyler Lipscomb saw the smoke cloud from the explosion that had killed Armstead and wrecked their response boat.
It was lurking behind them, following like a roaming cloud against the darkness.
And it was drifting directly towards the city.
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The city had fenced off the area beneath Palace Pier, so Hannah was forced to find other places to sleep. She’d nearly trained her body to sleep most of the day and stay awake at night; having been homeless for the better part of two years, it was a schedule that seemed much safer than the alternative.
It was because of her night owl-living that Hannah saw the explosion out at sea around 3:30 in the morning. She guessed that’s what time it was because the little flickering digital clock rotating at the corner of the bank a few blocks up had read 3:00 not too long before the blast. It had been a decent distance away from the shore, but the little plume of fire was unmistakable. She remained on the beach for a moment, her eyes scanning the dark canvas for any other anomalies. Her patience was rewarded fifteen minutes later when she saw the flickering lights of what she assumed was a helicopter crashing into the ocean.
She’d seen Coast Guard boats running routine practice exercises on the waters at night, but never anything like this. Slowly, she got up off the sand and wandered back towards the street. Maybe if she told a policeman about what she’d seen, they’d thank her. Maybe give her some cash for something to eat.
She made it as far as two blocks before she was just too tired. She found a public parking lot and hunkered down in the cab of a truck that had been parked there for weeks—complete with parking tickets and warnings trapped between the windshield and wipers. She shared the cab with several old oil cans and a filthy spare tire, kicking some of the cans aside as she did her best to get comfortable.
She dozed off, the sight of the explosion and the descending white lights d
rifting away in her mind.
When she woke up, it was with a low moan in her throat and a sharp cramping in her stomach. She’d been sick to the stomach plenty of times before, but this was different. This felt like someone had shoved a flaming sword into her guts. Nausea, indigestion and heartburn all seemed to be knotted together, pinching her insides. She felt the last little bit of food in her stomach coming up and was barely able to lean her head over the back of the truck in time.
It wasn’t until she’d stopped retching that she realized she was sweating—which was odd, as it was May and the weather had been perfect as of late—that perfect little pocket of New York spring that graced the city between its bitter winters and oppressive summers. Slowly slipping out of the cab of the truck, Hannah felt her forehead. She was burning up and drenched in sweat. And her head was thrumming.
She wasn’t sure what time it was. The faint light creeping in along the horizon and peeking through behind buildings suggested it was around 5:30 or 6:00. She let out another moan and staggered down the sidewalk, trying to figure out what was wrong with her. She hadn’t eaten in about a day and a half—a slice of pizza from a kind college kid. She doubted that had anything to do with it, but…
Her stomach cramped again. She hit the sidewalk and let out a whimper. Flecks of pebble and the hard concrete bit into her knees but she barely felt it. Fire…that’s what her stomach felt like. It felt like her insides were on fire. Her head felt like it might split open and the world seemed to be spinning. She tried getting to her feet, pulling herself up by the side of the building to her right.
She made one more step before she heard someone screaming a few blocks over, breaking the quiet of early morning. Two people; one sounded terrified and the other sounded as if they were being murdered. And then, in the midst of those voices, a wet, rattling cough.
It Falls Apart Series | Book 1 | It Falls Apart Page 1