Final Dawn: Season 1 (The Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Series)

by Mike Kraus

  A third breath swept the back of Marcus’s neck. This time he turned slowly, machete lowered, and stared into the face of the creature. Eyes sunken, face bloodied and expressionless it stood before him, no more than a foot away. Marcus swallowed deeply, fighting back the urge to run and considering whether or not he could get away with stabbing the creature.

  They stood for a moment, looking at each other, their eyes locked. “Who are you,” Marcus whispered, “and what do you want?”

  The creature said nothing, then after a moment, the mouth began to open. As the thin white lips cracked open, Marcus could see that it still had teeth and a tongue that looked normal enough. Though the creature did not speak, Marcus could hear its breath more clearly now, deep and raspy as it breathed in and out through its mouth. There was a faint hint of decay and rot on the creature’s breath, and he wrinkled his nose, turning his head ever so slightly to the side.

  This slight motion had immediate results, as the creature opened its mouth impossibly wide, twice as wide as a human could. With a choking sound and a slight hiss, a thin trail of smoke rose from the creature’s mouth as it tilted its head back, expelling the silvery fumes into the air. Marcus recoiled as the silver smoke began to take shake in front of the creature, resembling the swarm that had attacked him in the bus.

  The creature’s mouth snapped shut and its head came back down, leveling its gaze on Marcus as the smoke trail finished forming into a shape in front of it. The mass buzzed softly, shimmering in the afternoon sun, swaying lightly in the breeze. It was as tall as he and the creature, and roughly as wide. Marcus continued to back away from the mass, debating whether or not to run. He had completely forgotten that this was a dream, his mind fixated on only one thing: survival.

  As his left foot went back, Marcus felt empty air behind him and he twisted as he fell, tumbling down the hill. He rolled several feet and came to a stop, looking back up at the creature and the silvery mass. The mass began to buzz more, advancing towards him, with the creature stalking behind it, walking with a curious gait, unlike one he had ever seen before.

  The speed of the silver mass increased as it floated down the hill towards him, creature in tow behind it. The sound of the buzzing grew as it picked up speed and widened into a sheet, closing off any hope of escape. The last thing Marcus heard as he woke up was, oddly enough, the slow, steady breathing of the creature behind the mass.

  When Marcus woke up, he thought he was still dreaming. Marcus’s heart skipped a beat as he realized that he was no longer flat on his back on the hill, but flat on his back in the recess in the dark cavern, but the slow, raspy breathing of the creature was still echoing in his ears.

  7:18 AM, March 31, 2038

  Nancy Sims

  Rough hands slapped Nancy’s face as she regained consciousness, groaning in pain. Her head swirled and pounded, and the scent of sweat and dirt filled the air as she gasped. The slapping stopped when she groaned a second time.

  The man who called himself Joshua spoke. “Excellent. She’s awake. What about the man?”

  A second voice, Richard, came from somewhere else. “Still out.”

  “Leave him. He’s still breathing. He’ll wake up soon enough. Come, let’s get prepared.”

  A cackle came from the room at this, and Nancy heard footsteps walking away from her, followed by the slam of a door. She shook her head and felt her body twist in response, suddenly realizing that she was hanging in midair, her body twisting around a rope bound to her hands.

  “Help!” Nancy called hoarsely, coughing. She felt weak and tired, her throat was dry and a headache the size of Texas was rapidly building in the back of her head, wrapping around to the front. She still couldn’t see anything, but when she moved her head, she felt the coarseness of the potato sack still bound around her head.

  “Don’t bother calling for help. We’re in a basement of some kind, and besides, there’s nobody but those two assholes around anyway.”

  Nancy turned her head in the direction of the voice, searching for its origin. “How do you know?” she whispered, choking the words out in between coughs.

  The voice that answered back was smooth and cultured, though different than that of Joshua’s voice. This voice was calm, without the undertones of tension and rage that she detected when Joshua spoke. “They got me, too, Ms. …”

  “Sims. Nancy Sims.”

  “I wish I could say it’s nice to meet you, but under the circumstances… well, you know. Anyway, I’m James Dailey.”

  Nancy tried to smile, but the pain in her arms and head combined with the situation made it impossible.

  “Don’t struggle, you’ll only make it worse. Believe me, I’ve been trying for the last hour whenever those maniacs have been out of the room, and I’ve yet to make any progress.”

  Nancy coughed again, letting herself to limp on the rope. “Who are they?” She could hear the smirk in James’ face.

  “Convicts. Brothers, to be more precise. I heard them talking about their escape while they thought I was knocked out on the way here. They escaped a few days ago after… well, whatever it was that happened. I guess they’ve been running the roads looking for trouble.”

  “And here I thought I was being helpful, stopping on the road.”

  James chuckled softly. “You and me both, Nancy. They must have gotten you the same way they got me.”

  There was silence in the room for a few moments. The ropes that held them aloft creaked softly as they swayed gently back and forth.

  “Do you think they’re going to–” Nancy started, then stopped, finishing her sentence in her head, not wanting to speak the words out loud.

  After a long pause, James responded. His voice was quiet and muted, with a touch of hopelessness.

  “Probably so.”

  2:12 PM, March 28, 2038

  Leonard McComb

  Leonard glanced back at the school, saying a silent thank you. After loading up his new backpack with food and as many sports drinks as he could fit, he took a quick nap in the cafeteria, then woke up later in the day and headed out to the parkway to continue the journey. He felt especially burdened by the amount of food and water he was carrying, but he wasn’t sure what he would encounter up ahead. Better to have it and not need it, after all.

  The parkway was covered with vehicles, some of them intact, but most were overturned or wrecked, forming periodic piles of cars that had run into each other. Like the cars that Leonard saw in the urban areas after landing at the beach, all of these vehicles were devoid of people. Some showed signs of people having been injured, but he still wasn’t able to find a body anywhere he looked.

  After miles of walking, the sun began to go down and Leonard paused to rest at a clear spot in the parkway. Between two particularly large pileups, there were several vehicles that were less damaged. One in particular caught his eye, and he flipped on his headlamp as he walked over to look at it. It was ancient-looking, and he struggled to remember what year it could have come from. The faded plate on the side of it read “JEEP” and the top of the vehicle had no cover, only a metal structure that would protect the occupants inside.

  The Jeep had rear-ended the car in front of it, but it was still in good condition, suffering only minor dents to the front and rear from low-speed impact collisions. They must have been trying to get on the offramp, or hit a patch of traffic and slowed down, Leonard thought as he opened the driver’s side door. The interior of the Jeep was immaculate and barren, with almost no amenities to speak of. It was a manual transmission with no air conditioning, power seats, or power windows and there wasn’t even a radio.

  Leonard had tried to start many of the vehicles he found, but all of them had failed to start. After the first few cars he found that were in that condition, he figured that it was due to the EMP disabling the computer electronics in the cars, so he had given up on finding one that would work. The Jeep, though, seemed different. It was the oldest car he had seen on the road in a very lon
g time, and it was in good enough condition that he was sure the owner was a collector who happened to be out on a pleasure drive when the bombs fell. It was raised off the ground on four beefy tires, the treads of which were a few inches deep, perfect for off-road travel. The front of the Jeep had a snorkel attached as well, indicating that it was equipped for traveling through high waters, and the front of the Jeep had a winch attached, too.

  Leonard opened the door to the Jeep and paused, his hand hovering over the key, daring himself to try turning it and hoping against hope that it would work. It might be old enough… maybe. There was only one way to find out. Leonard closed his eyes, grasped the key and turned it forward. For a split second, nothing happened, and he felt disappointment begin to wash over him. Then, with a sputter, the car roared to life, the cylinders filling with fuel-enriched oxygen and firing without a single misstep.

  Leonard let out a loud shout and danced around the car, slapping it on the hood. “Yes!” he shouted, then ran to the back of the Jeep and opened the hatch, depositing his food and water supplies in the back. He grabbed one of the bottles of water and a bag of chips and went back to the driver’s seat, closing the door and grinning widely as he took the steering wheel in his hands.

  As Leonard began to pull the Jeep forward, he stopped and looked out at the sky. The sun was almost completely out of sight, and although the headlights of the Jeep still worked, he realized that it would be foolhardy to try and get it untangled from the mess of cars until it was light again. Leonard sighed and turned the key back, cutting the engine off. He stuck the key into his pocket and leaned back in the seat, tilting it back until it was nearly horizontal.

  With the roof of the Jeep not installed, he stared up into the sky, feeling a sense of true happiness wash over him for the first time since the collapse in the sewers. Though it had only been a couple of days since then, it felt like years. The emotional toll it had taken on him and the memories it brought up had been painful, but after having the entire world – quite literally – torn apart, things were finally starting to look up. He had food, water and transportation, so he would finally be able to make his way down the coast to the only home he had left.

  7:30 AM, March 31, 2038

  Rachel Walsh

  Though Rachel knew she was out of danger, she stayed behind the overturned car overnight with Sam huddled next to her. Occasionally she dozed off as she sat on the hard ground, then started awake again, panic gripping her momentarily as she woke up.

  Rachel’s nausea began to wane, replaced by a frustration and dismay. The grisly scene was still fresh in her mind, and had been replaying for hours as she sat motionless on the ground. Those men all died because of me. It was my fault. I could have stopped it, stopped all of this.

  No, that’s not true, she thought, arguing in her mind as she gathered the strength to stand. It wasn’t all your fault. You did your best.

  Best?! Bullshit. I could have stopped this before and I could have saved those three. Protocol be damned, there’s already been too many dead. If I had told them what I know from the start, then maybe—

  Maybe what? Maybe I could have kept them alive for a few more hours, until another one of those things found us? Better they die now than prolong their inevitable death.

  It’s still not right, dammit! It was my fault!

  Rachel stood slowly, walking to the Humvee, avoiding the bits of cloth strewn on the ground next to the passenger’s door. The Humvee was still intact, the only damage being the stains on the backseat from Russell.

  Rachel felt guilt start to rise in her again as she saw Russell’s glasses lying on the floor of the Humvee, broken when he stepped on them in his writhing agony. She pushed the emotion down again, though it still bubbled close to the surface, threatening to overwhelm her at any moment. I’ve got a job to do. I have to get it done.

  Rachel walked to the driver’s door of the Humvee, climbing inside and reaching for the ignition. She realized that the keys had been removed, and looked back at where Russell had been seated. She climbed into the back seat, hunting for the keys. After a few moments of searching, she found what was left of them: a plastic keyring with the very ends of the keys still left on it. The rest of each of the two remnants looked as though they had been sheared off with a laser cutter. She cursed loudly as she threw the keyring out the window, smashing her hand against the roof of the Humvee repeatedly in frustration. “Shit! Dammit, Waters, why did you have to let him hold the keys!?”

  With no way to start the Humvee, she was back to square one, forced to walk the rest of the way to Richmond. Rachel sat still for a few moments, contemplating her next move, then she remembered the map that Waters and Roche were studying before they took off. Rachel climbed back into the driver’s seat and grabbed the map out of the dashboard, spreading it out over the passenger’s seat. While they weren’t near any road signs on this particular part of the highway, she remembered them passing a turnoff for a town called Gastonia shortly before they stopped. She studied the map, poring over the route until she found the town. Gastonia… looks like a suburb of Charlotte. Great, another big town. That explains the condition of the road.

  During the drive from outside Atlanta through to where she was now seated, they had passed through several large and small towns, all with varying degrees of damage that forced them to stop, move debris blocking their way, go off-road and more. Each time they passed through a densely populated area, the destruction was similar to that in Atlanta, signaling that a bomb had leveled the area. More rural areas seemed to get more of a pass, sustaining only minor damage from the bombs.

  As she stared at the map, Rachel’s eyes moved up to an area that had been circled with a red marker, with some notes scrawled next to it in barely legible handwriting. She leaned in closer, squinting her eyes as she looked at the notes next to the circle. I guess Richmond is where they were going. But why?

  L400 – RV & recon.

  Retrieve weapons cache.

  Proceed to Norfolk.

  Rachel wasn’t familiar with whatever “L400” was, but the rest was clear. They had planned on entering Richmond to retrieve a weapons cache, and then move to Norfolk, probably to the military base there. Rachel folded the map and jumped out of the Humvee, moving to the back where her gear was stowed. Sam followed her from the opposite side of the vehicle, giving the remains of the two soldiers a wide berth as though he was afraid of them.

  “It’s okay boy.” Rachel patted him on the head a few times then opened the back of the Humvee. She pulled out her gear and loaded it back on again, getting a drink of water as she did. As Rachel began to walk away from the Humvee, she stopped near the front and lowered her head, thinking of the two soldiers and the scientist who had died, stuck between blaming herself for not doing enough and being angry that she couldn’t do more.

  The trip to Washington had been made much shorter by the hours spent driving, but she was still a long ways away no matter how she sliced it. While she had originally been against stopping in Virginia, she figured that Richmond was close enough on the route anyway that she would pass through and try to find the cache that the solders wrote about on their map. Maybe, if she was extremely lucky, she’d be able to find another Humvee that had been shielded from the EMPs. It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do, she thought.

  Rachel turned from the Humvee and began walking north, following the highway once again. She felt stripped of energy from what she had witnessed, but between having her family torn from her and watching three people brutally torn apart mere feet away, her resolve was stronger than ever.

  It was my fault, Rachel thought.

  But I’m going to make it right.

  11:14 AM, March 31, 2038

  Nancy Sims

  Hours passed and Nancy’s arms grew sorer until they finally lost all feeling, the blood flow slowing enough that she couldn’t feel the pain of the ropes any longer. James and Nancy exchanged a few words, thankful to have a comrade in th
eir situation, but both were concerned about what lay ahead of them.

  The silence was broken by a slam as a door was opened, followed by the creaking of stairs as a set of feet stomped down. Nancy heard a figure behind her, sniffing her neck, then there was a pressure at the back of her head and the sack came off in a blur.

  The room was dark, except for light streaming in from the room above. In the darkness, she could make out another figure, James, hanging by his hands from a rafter on the ceiling in the corner of the room. The sniffing resumed on her neck and she felt hands taking her hair, rubbing it between the fingers. Hot breath passed over her ear and into her nose, foul and smelling like rotten food and alcohol.

  “Well, pretty lady, you weren’t quite what we had in mind, but you’ll have to do, I suppose.”