SURVIVORS
Deluge Series
Book 3
By
Kevin Partner
Mike Kraus
© 2020 Muonic Press Inc
www.muonic.com
***
https://www.kevpartner.co.uk/
https://www.facebook.com/KevPartnerAuthor/
***
www.MikeKrausBooks.com
[email protected]
www.facebook.com/MikeKrausBooks
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, or by any electronic, mechanical or other means, without the permission in writing from the author.
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
Coda
Want More Awesome Books?
Want More Awesome Books?
Find more fantastic tales right here, at books.to/readmorepa.
***
If you’re new to reading Mike Kraus, consider visiting his website and signing up for his free newsletter. You’ll receive several free books and a sample of his audiobooks, too, just for signing up, you can unsubscribe at any time and you will receive absolutely no spam.
***
You can also stay updated on Kevin Partner's books by checking out his Facebook page right here, or visiting his website at kevpartner.co.uk.
***
Special Thanks
Special thanks to my awesome beta team, without whom this book wouldn’t be nearly as great.
Thank you!
Deluge Book 4
Available Here
Chapter 1
Triangulation
“Can you be sure it is him?” Professor Else Lundberg looked up from the printout as Helmut loomed like a gathering storm.
“Yes,” he said.
Lundberg sighed. “Rath, explain.”
“The attack on our server uses the same vector—the same methodology and software. The IP address is different, but this allows us to triangulate his position with greater accuracy.”
“Did he breach our firewall?”
Frederick Rath fought the urge to correct his superior. Baxter had gotten past the firewall on his first attempt. He’d then shown considerable—and unexpected—skill in probing the various subsystems each with their own protections.
“He obtained considerable data before our technicians shut him down.”
“Enough to keep him probing?”
“I believe so.”
Lundberg nodded. “Good.”
“Professor, do you think this is wise? He has extracted much information that is sensitive.” As he became more nervous, Rath’s German accent began to emerge from beneath its cultured but nondescript mid-European foundation.
“We must get the fish on the hook, Frederick. He knows too much already, so it matters little what more he learns as long as we find and eliminate him. How many more data points will you need before you can locate him reliably enough for Helmut to take him?”
Rath shook his head as if trying to dismiss unpleasant thoughts. “Two, maybe three.”
Lundberg gestured at Helmut. “Make the preparations.”
The security man departed.
“Why are you lurking, Frederick?” Lundberg said as she scanned the report. “Is your squeamishness getting the better of you again?”
Rath fidgeted on his feet, his toes tapping on the concrete floor. “Is it so easy for you to order the death of a man?”
“I have not ordered Helmut to kill Baxter. Unless there is any risk he’ll fall into the wrong hands.”
“And what will you do with him when you have him?”
Lundberg blinked, as if surprised by the question. “I’ll find out what he knows.”
“And then?”
“Don’t be naive, Frederick. He cannot be allowed to leave this place. He already knew too much. Now, having illegally hacked into our systems, he may know just about anything.”
“You intend to kill him, then?”
The mask slipped and she thumped her fist on the table. “What is wrong with you? Do you wish to take responsibility for what happened? Well, I do not, because I do not relish picking out a brick wall to be shot against!”
She took a deep breath and swept gray hair from her forehead, using the time to regain control. “At the moment, President Buchanan believes that this was all just a terrible accident, and Baxter is the prime suspect. If she gets hold of him, she might find out that what actually happened wasn’t quite as simple as that. Need I remind you of the powers that stand behind us?”
Rath slumped into himself like an old concertina. “No. But killing an innocent man…”
“I know. It does not sit well with me either, but I will do what I must to protect this organization and its members. That is why I am director of SaPIEnT and you are not.”
“And that,” Frederick Rath said as he stepped into the corridor and heard the reassuring click of the door, “is the only silver lining in this cloud.”
Not for the first time, he silently cursed the day Lundberg had approached him. He’d spent three decades becoming part of the furniture at Frankfurt University of Applied Sciences when the silver-haired avenger had whispered about one last contribution to science and, suddenly, the leather chair and the tenured position at FUAS looked like nothing more than a comfortable coffin. And so the trap shut.
Rath jumped as he almost collided with Helmut.
“Well?” the tall man said.
Rath shrugged. “No change. We’ll wait for one more incursion so we can fix position and I’m sure you will be sent to fetch Baxter.”
“Fetch? I am not a dog.”
“My friend, better to be die Hunde than der Fuchs.”
Helmut made a noise like a small avalanche. “Ja. She has many fox tails pinned to her wall. I do not wish to be another. But should I inform our contact at Hazleton?”
Rath rubbed his chin and glanced both ways along the corridor. “Nein. Not yet. Wait until we are certain, and then we will talk. I do not wish to have blood on my hands—on our hands—but neither do I want President Buchanan to learn what Baxter knows.”
“Pest und Cholera.”
“Indeed. Between a rock and a hard place.”
Chapter 2
Edwards
The closer they got to Edwards Air Force Base, the slower they went. People crowded Route 15, stumbling on foot away from the huge black pall of smoke that rose into the air like a closed fist.
“I don’t think we’re gonna find no gas there,” Linwood said, looking through the rolled-down passenger seat window and pointing to the sky. “That looks like oil smoke to me.”
“We’ve got to look, just in case. Either that, or abandon the car and walk to Vegas.”
“How far is it?” Eve asked.
Bobby shrugged. “Must be two hundred miles. Through the desert.”
“Bobby’s right,” Eve said, looking back to where Linwood was still watching the smoke. “We’ve got to find some gas.”
“And if we don’t?” the older man asked.
“Then we’ll start walking,” Bobby said. “Or, I will. I’m
going after my daughter.”
“You don’t wanna be goin’ in there!”
Bobby had rolled down the window as he turned off 15 and toward the entrance to Edwards. The crowd had thinned, and he’d spotted what looked like a family—a man in desert camouflage guiding a woman with dusty hair who sheltered two young children within her arms.
“We’ve got to get some gas,” Bobby said. “What happened?”
The man leaned into the window. “Got any water?”
After hesitating for a second or two, Bobby handed over his refilled plastic water bottle.
“Thanks,” the man said, before giving it to his wife. “It’s been coming for a few days now. Too many people, too many trouble makers. And then some of Crenshaw’s gang snuck in, and…boom! Blew up a half-dozen buildings. Set fire to the base.”
“Crenshaw?”
“You must’ve passed them. They’re stealing gas from folk. Crenshaw’s their leader. Ran a local militia. Nobody took him seriously, not till the flood. But he got himself organized quicker than we did.”
Bobby nodded. “Yeah, they took most of our gas. We were hoping to get some more.”
“No chance. They got control of the station.”
“I don’t get it. There must be ten thousand people here.”
The man shook his head. “Not military. Since the flood, most have been relocated to Lancaster and Vegas. Governor’s building a task force. I reckon only a few hundred of us left, the rest are refugees from LA, SF and everywhere west of here. Guess the brass thought we’d be enough. Guess they were wrong.
The man turned as he heard a ripple of gunfire. “They won’t get into the main block—the old man’s got that secure—but they might burn it down.”
“Where are you going?”
“We’re mustering to the east. But I guess we’ll make our way back to the base at Lancaster. Maybe they’ll send out some help. Maybe they won’t. Edwards is pretty much trashed.”
Bobby nodded. “You couldn’t get to a car or truck?”
The man shook his head. “It all happened so fast. Had to run to the school to fetch Ruth and the kids, but there was no way to get back to our quarters from there. So we headed off on foot. Folks overtook us, but no one had room. It’s okay, we’ll make it to the muster point. Take it easy, and thanks for the water.”
Bobby watched the little group in the mirror as they receded. What sort of a disaster could happen that would empty a base of, what, fifteen thousand people? There was no way any local militia could threaten it, surely? Not unless the base had been largely abandoned before. But why would that be? He was no particular fan of Governor Booker—the lesser of two evils—and he wondered if he was empire building in the ruins of the country.
The cracked, brown stained road led through a cracked, brown landscape of dust and parched, low bushes. Over all hung the column of smoke, Bobby’s eyes following it down.
“Where you headin’ for?” Linwood asked from the passenger seat.
“I’m going to check the housing area,” Bobby said, gesturing over to the right. “That’s where the gas station will be.”
But, as they got closer, he knew with dreadful certainty that, as the pall of smoke resolved into many smaller columns, at least some of them were coming from the direction they were heading in.
He took a right onto Fitzgerald Boulevard, the acrid burning stench stinging his parched nose and throat.
Movement to his left.
Figures running between the burning vehicles in a parking lot. Firestone Complete Auto Care.
“Keep your heads down,” Bobby snapped as one of the figures saw them and brought a weapon to bear. He stabbed his foot down on the gas and the car lurched as he fought to keep the wheel steady.
“Jeez. It’s chaos. They’re just looting! Why destroy cars?”
“Look out!” Eve called.
Bobby swerved to one side and brought the car to a halt. Fifty yards away was a Burger King; all the windows facing the parking lot had been blown out, and a group of a dozen or so men and women carrying rifles and pistols were taking cover and shooting at whoever was defending the place.
“They got someone pinned down in there,” Linwood said.
Gun reports bounced back and forth, rattling like hail on a tin roof.
Bobby felt Witt’s heavy hand on his shoulder. “Now, don’t you go gettin’ involved, Bob. Oh, darn it!”
“There are children in there!” Eve hissed.
Easing the door open, Bobby kneeled with his back to it. “Wait here, I’m going to find out what’s going on.” He slipped away, heading toward the side of the building, a brick wall with the company logo and the menu in a shattered glass frame. He pressed his back against the wall, then groaned as he saw Linwood limping from the car, keeping low and following Eve.
A loud voice called from around the front of the restaurant. “You let them kids go! Then we can talk.”
The responding voice was deep and desperate. “No way. I weren’t born yesterday.”
“Look, we promise you a fair hearing, but the children don’t have nothing to do with it.”
“Ha! Fair hearing? You gotta be kiddin’ me! No!” Then a burst of automatic weapon fire coming from the building. “I told you no one was to move!”
More voices from around the corner. “Jeez, he shot Jim!” And a moan of pain.
Then the first voice again spoke, first to someone nearby. “Do what you can for him.”
“Try that again and I’ll empty my mag into you. Your last warning. You got five minutes to do what I say. Five minutes before the first kid dies. And her blood’ll be on your hands.”
Bobby listened to the voice calling out from inside the restaurant with a growing sense of dread.
“Sounds like a hostage situation,” Linwood said.
“You think?”
Eve said, “Should we try talking to the man inside? Maybe he’ll listen to me.”
“Why would he do that?” Bobby said, with more venom than intended. “I’m sorry. Look, there are kids inside, so we can’t take any risks.”
“But we don’t have no weapons,” Witt said.
Bobby shrugged. “We’ve both got knives.”
“How do we get close enough to use them? Seems to me he knows how to handle an assault rifle.”
“We don’t,” Bobby said, looking down at where Witt’s pants hid his prosthetic leg.
Linwood Witt’s face tightened, but he merely nodded. “I know. Useless old fool, I am.”
“You need to do what you can for the kids. If any shooting starts in there, see if you can get them outside.”
“I’ll come with you,” Eve said.
Bobby stifled his protest before it emerged. He needed all the help he could get. How did he get himself into these messes? It was as if he attracted trouble. Maybe everyone felt like that in this upside-down world. He nodded, then began moving along the wall toward the back of the building.
It was locked tight, except for the hatch to the drive-through. He peered into the darkness and, seeing no movement, hauled himself as silently as possible up and over the counter, wincing as he knocked a cardboard box over.
He could hear the voices—one inside the building, one outside—so he helped Eve into the dark of the kitchen.
“I said a Humvee and someone to drive it!”
Bobby couldn’t make out the other voice clearly now they were inside, but the response was clear enough.
“Not good enough! This is a military base, you got Humvees comin’ outta your ears. And now you got three minutes.”
Bobby pulled on Eve’s hand. “Come on. And be careful, for God’s sake. I don’t want to lose you.”
“Why Bobby, I didn’t know you cared.”
“You didn’t?”
He saw the ghost of a smile disappear in the shaft of light coming in through the hatch. She squeezed his hand and crawled along the floor beside him.
They came out behind the seating ar
ea, and Bobby oriented himself on the voice. It was coming from the far corner and he realized that if the man wasn’t peering out of the smashed windows, he’d be looking directly their way.
They got on their hands and knees and crawled along the plastic-backed, greasy bench seats, gently pushing aside the balloons that had come to rest in their way until they could look around a supporting pillar.
He was a big man, wearing an olive and brown hunting jacket and hugging a rifle to his chest. A pistol sat on his crossed legs, and his thin gray and blond hair fell beneath a wide-brimmed camouflage hat.
Eve tugged on Bobby’s arm and pointed. The restaurant had a play area, and he could see the faces of maybe half a dozen children poking out from behind the closed and locked door. Beside them, looking out through the shattered front window, were two women, terror written on their faces.
A child cried out and the man in the corner pointed the pistol at her. “You just shut yer mouth or you’re next. D’you hear me?”
Bobby ducked as the man’s head turned.
“Time’s up!” the hunter called out. “And I think I’ve got a volunteer to be first. Seems I gotta prove to you fellas that I mean what I say.”
Bobby heard desperate calls of “No!” and “Wait” from outside. Calls that were ignored as the man in the corner pulled back the hammer on his revolver, his finger curling through the trigger guard. A cruel smile spread across his lips as the children screamed and began running around. “Like fish in a barrel,” he muttered.
Bobby was priming himself to make a desperate dash across the floor in the vain hope of getting to the shooter before he opened fire when something smashed at the back of the store. It sounded like a metal shelf toppling, and the man in the corner reflexively dropped his pistol and swung the rifle around him.
“Who the…?”
Bobby threw himself at the man as the children screamed.
Deluge | Book 3 | Survivors Page 1