Endurance: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (Highway Book 2)

by ML Banner

  If the eyes were a window to one’s soul, then what did that unhinged eye say about this man? Frank’s left toe tapped more rapidly.

  Jasper had spoken of being in the military and definitely appeared to be able to handle himself, even with his wiry frame. And in spite of just meeting him, Frank knew it was necessary to trust this man. He was reluctant to admit it, but they had no alternative. It was certain death out there.

  But when he considered their situation objectively, there was a red flag he couldn’t disregard: wasn’t it a little fortuitous for them that Stanley would end up with Jasper as his neighbor? A prepper and ex-military like him as a neighbor? He had to push this thought away. They’d deal with that later. Yet, his hands rested comfortably on his rifle, ready to put it into action when it was needed.

  No, he wouldn’t relax, no matter how long they were holed up here.

  Lexi’s eyes were drawn to Frank’s tapping. But then she noticed droplets of red sliding down Frank’s left arm. “Shit, your shoulder is bleeding,” she blurted, her gaze riveted to Frank’s left shoulder, where he had taken a bullet only two days earlier. His camo-colored T-shirt was stained with wetness that she’d figured was sweat—they were all covered in sweat from the exertion and sitting in a nearly ninety-degree house with no fan or fresh air circulation.

  Jasper looked up at Frank and Lexi and rubbed away the wetness from his eyes. “I think there are some fresh dressings in the cabinet behind you.”

  Lexi rose from the love seat, moved to the cabinet behind them, and searched the drawers. “Off with your shirt,” she demanded, mimicking his own drill-sergeant tone.

  “It’s really nothing. Besides, what do you know about dressing wounds?”

  After clanging around for a moment, Lexi stood up and stepped behind Frank. She dumped handfuls of gauze pads, medical tape, and scissors on a small table abutting the back of the love seat. “I was constantly hurting myself, and I didn’t want to tell anyone, so I got quite good at patching myself up. More importantly I sped-read one of Daddy’s books, First Aid for Soldiers by The Department of Army.”

  “You speed-read the entire First Aid for Soldiers book?” He twisted and glared back at Lexi with disbelief. “Okay, what page addresses my particular issue?”

  Lexi scowled back at him. “You forgot I have a photographic memory. Page 2-32, specifically section 2-16 deals with entrance and exit wounds. Below that, is a detailed description of field dressing. Okay?”

  Frank turned back to Jasper—he offered a shallow but genuine grin. Reluctantly, he slowly removed his shirt. Even though he tried to repress it, each movement was followed by a muffled grunt from the pain.

  Jasper just watched the show. His unemotional stare turned into a smile and then morphed into something resembling disgust.

  Lexi wasn’t watching Jasper.

  “Oh my God.” Lexi stepped back from Frank and the couch, as if afraid of contracting a disease. Her palms pressed against her mouth, as if to hold back the contents of her stomach, while her eyes nearly burst from their sockets with worry.

  Frank’s back looked like something out of a horror movie. He was covered in bandages, all crimson colored. In between the multitude of reddened bandages were butterfly bandages holding together open gashes that oozed. The remaining portions of his unbandaged skin that hadn’t been recently tortured were a weave of scar-tissue.

  It was an omnibus book of real-life horror stories that screamed of pain and cruelty.

  “Sorry, I should have warned you first.”

  Lexi instantly lost all feeling of nausea. He’s apologizing to me?

  This man, who’d risked his life and body to protect her and Travis, who never complained once about his torture and about being shot.

  Lexi bit her lip and ignored her own frailties. I can do this.

  She reached over to the largest bandage, covering the bullet wound in his shoulder, and peeled back the tape. The stitches were still intact, holding together the damaged tissue, only seeping a little blood now. The front entry wound was even better, as it was a lot smaller.

  “It doesn’t look too bad, actually. The stitches have mostly held, and it doesn’t look infected. It’s bleeding only a little,” she announced confidently. “I’m just going to replace the dressing around your bullet wound.”

  “Thanks, doc,” Frank said. He was more and more impressed by his goddaughter with each passing moment.

  Lexi laid out strips of tape and set up the dressing. Then blotting the sweat and blood with a clean pad, she applied the first bandage to the entry wound.

  “If you don’t mind me asking,” Jasper said, “so what happened to your dad? I mean”—he paused and looked empathetically at the young woman—“how did he die?”

  “Car crash. We were in the car. Best I can figure, we were headed here, driving west on I-10 when they set off the bomb in Jacksonville. Its flash must have blinded him, and he ran into a street sign that … killed him.”

  Jasper nodded, as if knowing her pain, but he said nothing.

  She applied the bandage to Frank’s back, smoothing down the folds of tape to make sure they’d adhere.

  “It’s okay. We buried him by the highway,” she said softly, and then addressed Frank. “You can put your shirt back on.”

  “Your father sounds like a man who cared about his children, setting up his home and trying to bring you all here where you would be safe. You were lucky to have him.”

  “I really didn’t know my father.” Lexi’s voice cracked a bit, but she felt stronger talking about this. “He went away after my mother died, or rather was killed by my uncle.”

  “Abe killed your mother?” Frank blurted, his mouth somewhat crooked with amazement.

  “Yep, dear old Uncle Abdul, the leader of the terrorist group who murdered millions of Americans, also murdered my mother eight years ago.” Lexi hadn’t had time to tell Frank this, so now was as good a time as any. “My father realized that Travis and I were in danger.” She stopped abruptly and then glared at Frank. “Are you sure Travis is all right?”

  “Yes, of course he is. He’s locked up in the radio and storage area. He’s got food, water, and even a bathroom. It’s sealed against gas. I noticed that when I did an inspection this morning. I told him to wait for us. He’ll wait.” He said this with certainty, but in his mind, Frank continued to worry about the boy.

  They all sat silent for some time before Frank spoke to Jasper. “So tell me, Captain—”

  “Just Jasper, please, Frank.”

  “Oh sure. So, tell me, Jasper, since we’re going to be here for a bit longer, what’s the status of the neighboring town? How are they dealing with the lack of power and supplies?”

  Lexi had put away the medical supplies and sat back down next to Frank again, eagerly wanting to hear what their host had to say about this.

  “Endurance? Oh, they’re doing better than most, I guess. Many of the residences, like yours and this one, have some sort of backup power and have some stored-up food. Everyone here is prepared for the next hurricane.

  “But those who live in town, at least those who didn’t plan for that rainy day, they get their food from Jonah. I imagine most of the town will at some point.”

  “Jonah?” asked Lexi. “You mean like from the Bible?”

  Jasper was a lot more animated now. “I imagine so. Jonah Price is one part opportunist and one part thug. What he doesn’t own, he takes. When the lights went out, he started trading food for labor or other favors for his men.”

  Lexi wasn’t sure she wanted to hear this, but she asked anyway. “Other favors?”

  “Let’s just say the women in town, the pretty ones especially, offered a different kind of labor than the men. Sorry, young lady.” Jasper’s shoulders sank and his head dropped. It was hard to see all of the features of his face with the bright light behind him and his full beard, but she suspected it was red right now.

  “What kind of labor did the men provide?” asked
Frank, changing the subject slightly for their benefit.

  “I don’t know, Frank. He has a lot of businesses and warehouses. I’m guessing he had them working in one of his warehouses.”

  “So this thug, as you called him, is forcing people to be slaves in exchange for food?” Lexi was getting angry. She hated to see people prey on other people.

  “Well, I guess it depends on how you look at it. Most Americans haven’t prepared and only have maybe a week’s worth of food or less in their cupboards. Jonah is just offering them his food, but not for free. I just know that with Jonah, he forces the price in his favor.”

  “I definitely need to meet this Jonah after this threat passes.”

  “What?” Lexi asked. She didn’t like the sound of this man at all, and although what he was doing to others in this town—now her town—made her angry, she wasn’t eager for any of her family to engage him. The man sounded like a bigger version of Clyde, someone she wanted to forget about and put behind her.

  “I’m sure he’ll be coming to you soon enough.”

  Both Frank and Lexi glared at Jasper; their faces begged the question.

  “Yeah, it was Jonah’s son that Lexi cut earlier.”

  ~~~

  Peter

  “Check,” crackled the last man in his detail. “I still don’t see any movement.”

  Peter and his men had the house surrounded. They had been waiting for a long time, but there didn’t appear to be anyone in or around the place. All the window blinds were open in the back of the house, so they would have seen if someone was moving about. He would have guessed that they were not home, and would have just waited, but he felt a need to check further.

  Something just didn’t feel right.

  There were maybe a dozen dead birds around the house and grounds. They hadn’t seen any on the way into the property. So something must have happened here. His anxiety level was maxed out right now because he couldn’t stand just waiting. Waiting would be the safe option. But with Jonah breathing down his neck to get the woman who sliced up his boy, he couldn’t wait any longer. “All right, move in slowly.”

  Peter and one of his men raised their SCAR 17 rifles and crept toward the door. Another man kept watch on their perimeter in case someone came at them from their flank or rear.

  Peter saw from his periphery that two other men—one on each side—approached the home as well. And he knew two more were approaching the front of the house.

  He reached up with his left hand, still keeping the heavy SCAR pointed with his right, and tried the screen doorknob. It twisted without resistance.

  Pulling it slowly, he winced as the screen door groaned. If someone was here, they heard that for sure.

  Sliding forward while bracing the screen with his knee, he turned the solid wood door’s knob, and it too opened. It was unlocked.

  There had to be someone inside, as he didn’t think they’d leave the house unlocked. They must be close by.

  He turned his head back to his man behind him and whispered, “Tell the others if their points of entry are locked to hold their positions. We’re going inside.”

  He waited till his man radioed his order. Then he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  ~~~

  Lexi

  Lexi really didn’t know Frank too well, at least not yet. After all, it had been years since she had seen him, and that was when she had been a different, much younger person. They’d been together now barely more than a day. Yet Lexi already knew Frank didn’t show much emotion except when he was agitated, and then it was obvious. He was agitated now. And because Frank was, so was Lexi.

  They both rose from their seats. Frank started to pace around the room, and Lexi just remained standing in her position in front of the couch. Jasper eyed them both.

  Movement outside the window caught Lexi’s eyes.

  She saw it clearly, but it wasn’t making sense to her at all, and this filled her with more anxiety.

  Right outside of the giant picture window was an ancient-looking bird feeder dangling off of a large elderberry in Jasper’s yard. Dozens of little birds were feeding from it. It felt odd, but she didn’t know why.

  Then it hit her.

  “Frank! Look!” Her forefinger shot out like a bullet toward the window. “The birds … they’re fine.”

  It registered instantly for Frank, who dashed back to the love seat and grabbed his rifle.

  Jasper didn’t yet understand why that excited them so. Frank brought him up to speed. “If the birds are alive and eating, that means the outside isn’t contaminated, if it ever was.”

  “Wait.” Lexi grabbed his arm, “What do you mean ‘if it ever was’? We saw all the dead birds.”

  He squeezed her hand and pulled it away. “It’s okay. The birds that died were probably part of a flock that got a dose of it in the air. They were probably coming from the Army base just north of us and died here. I don’t think our area was hit. But we’ve got to move. Travis is alone, and I don’t want him to be there if Jonah or his men come to the house.”

  Lexi didn’t need any more coaxing. She unholstered her pistol and followed Frank to the door. They both looked back at Jasper to see if he was coming.

  “I’m right behind you. Wanna grab a bigger gun.”

  Frank and Lexi bounded through the door and down the side path to their home.

  ~~~

  Jasper

  Jasper took longer than he wanted, but he really didn’t think Jonah and his men would be here this soon, so he didn’t rush. He changed into some camos, just in case, and grabbed his Thompson .45 submachine gun. He’d procured it from the previous homeowner and preferred it over his AK. He was told by Jonah to keep it hidden since it didn’t possess the proper ATF stamp. It had a full fifty-round drum attached, making the gun incredibly heavy. But if the shit hit the fan—he always loved that euphemism—it was a worthy companion, regardless of the weight. This he slung around to his back.

  Next, he grabbed an M1 Garand, also the previous occupant’s, and slung around him an ammo belt with twenty preloaded stripper clips. He also tossed a few additional items into his camo pack, including a couple of gas masks, and tossed the pack over his shoulders. It was overkill, but he liked to be prepared.

  He bounded out the door, pausing only briefly to lock it, and then raced down the side path, being careful not to make too much noise.

  When he arrived at the opening to the Broadmoors’ property, he stopped abruptly and slunk down behind a thick bush for cover. He raised his Garand and followed his target through the gun’s peep sight. Slowly the man approached. But then there were others behind him: Frank, Lexi, and a boy. They had their hands raised and were walking in Jasper’s direction.

  Frank looked directly at Jasper, as if he could see him behind the cover. Frank shook his head; it was his way of telling him “Don’t try it.”

  Jasper lowered his rifle, but moved his head closer to hear what was being said.

  Frank asked, “So where are you taking us?” It was obviously for Jasper’s benefit.

  He recognized the man who replied. It was Peter, Jonah’s right-hand man. “I’m taking you and the girl to talk to my boss. He has some questions for you about what happened to his son.”

  “And where is that?”

  “We’re going to his—”

  Peter’s radio crackled, and he held it to his head. “He wants us to do what?” He listened and then nodded. “Yeah, we have the girl and her brother and her godfather.”

  They passed by Jasper, following the side path toward the driveway.

  Jasper stuck his head out, trying to make sure he heard as much of the conversation as he could.

  “He wants us to go to the front gate of the base? All right, tell Jonah we’re leaving now.”

  Jasper waited until they were out of sight, and then he trotted back to his place. He rummaged around and found his boat keys and then hopped into his boat. He idled it out of the metal boathouse an
d into the inlet. When he was in the Gulf and sure that his engine wouldn’t be heard, he throttled it forward and headed north toward the Army base.

  He wanted to get there before Peter and the others did.

  Chapter 8

  Crystal Waters, Florida

  Randall

  “In Ramadan, there will be a Sound.” The fiery imam raised a hand up to an ear and tilted his head toward the heavens, as if he could hear Jibrail himself speaking directly to him.

  To Randall White, the man looked more like a TV preacher than an imam. But that was his style, and his style was what drew them all in, including Randall.

  “They said: ‘O Messenger of Allah, is it in its beginning, in its middle, or in its end?’” Imam Ramadi continued.

  “No, in the middle of Ramadan.”

  He paused and looked out at his followers. Most of those in the mosque stared back eagerly. Some, like Randall, looked back with dread, a reflection of an almost prophetic sense of what was coming next.

  “This day, my friends, as you all know, is the middle of Ramadan.” He was setting up his followers for the rest of the prophetic message partially taken from the hadith about what they could expect during the end days.

  He tilted his head back up to the ceiling and to the side.

  “Then, there will be a sound from the sky that causes death to seventy thousand.

  “They asked: ‘O Messenger of Allah, who will survive from your nation?’”

  The imam paused for a long moment and then peered at the men standing in his mosque and then at the women, separated by a wall so that neither group could see the other.

  “It is the true believer who will survive, my friends. Is that you?” He pointed his crooked forefinger first at the women and then the men, his eyes following his finger’s accusatory scorn.