SHATTER: Epoch’s End Book 2: (A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller Series) (Epoch's End)

by Mike Kraus

  Tom rested back on his heels. “Well… he knows where he is, and his eyes work, so he might not have that bad of a concussion. But we have to get him to a hospital. And he’s right about the tunnel. This thing will eventually come down on us.” He looked down at Jerry. “Think you can walk?”

  Jerry propped himself up on his left elbow. “My head feels like a cracked egg, but I don’t want to stay here another minute if we can help it.”

  Tom stood. “It’s settled, then.”

  The two got Jerry to his feet and watched as he wobbled and straightened, nodding to the pair. “I’m good.”

  Tom fished out some pain killers from his medical kit and handed them to the young man along with a bottled water and an energy bar. Jerry popped the pills down and sat on the bench seat to eat his snack. They occasionally tossed out a question to test him, and his speech grew stronger and less slurred with every passing moment.

  Tom threw glances out the front window, watching water and sand slowly drip on the window and hood. “I think the risks of staying here outweigh the risks of leaving the RV at this point. We need to get moving.”

  Sam and Jerry both nodded, though the young man winced every time he moved his head.

  “Let’s grab everything we can use out of the RV,” Tom turned to Sam. “Not just our stuff, but everything.”

  Jerry gingerly stood and helped where he could as Tom and Samantha gathered blankets, a pillow each, plastic bags, cups, silverware, and the RV rental papers and keys. Once gathered on the kitchen table, they strategically arranged the items into their makeshift backpacks to get the best fit, trading things between them if one pack had more or less room.

  “Why do we need all this stuff?” Sam asked as she squeezed a small pillow down to make it fit.

  “You never know when it might come in handy,” Tom replied. “As long as it’s not too heavy, we’ll take it.”

  “Tell me we can find a working car and drive out of here,” she continued with an exasperated sigh. “Then we drop Jerry off and get our butts home.”

  “At this point, we don’t know what’s out there in the tunnel or what we’ll have to do to break free.” Tom shined his flashlight at the front windshield, noting that the ice crystals had spread halfway up the glass, freezing in places where there the moisture was thin. “What’s happening out there isn’t likely to go away.”

  “It looks really bad,” she agreed with a whisper as she followed his flashlight beam. “We could freeze before we make it out of here.”

  Jerry gave Sam a playful slap on the back with his good hand. “I don’t know how I managed to hook up with you guys, but I wouldn’t want to be down here in the cold darkness with anyone else.” He laughed and then winced, holding his hand to his head.

  “I hope that hurt,” Sam sneered playfully.

  “That’s not nice,” Jerry murmured. “Remind me not to crack jokes or even smile, at least until the pain meds kick in.”

  “You can goof around when we get out of here.” Sam lifted her backpack to her shoulder. “Until then, no messing around.”

  Tom grinned, listening to them go back and forth.

  “What are you worried about? Your dad is an awesome dude. I mean, look how far we’ve come already. He’ll make sure we’re prepared for anything. We have a great chance of getting out of here, as long as we do what he says.”

  “I appreciate the sentiment,” Tom laughed uneasily as he stuffed the rest of the plastic bags inside his backpack and shrugged it over a shoulder. “I don’t think any of us are ready for what’s coming.”

  “What do you mean?” Jerry crouched a little, testing his legs. “It is what you were talking about before? The fundamental change in human history?”

  Tom slowly nodded.

  “Yeah, I didn’t know what you meant, so I asked Sam. She didn’t get it, either.”

  One hand on his hip, Tom levelled his gaze at Jerry, shifted it to Sam, and glanced at the windshield one last time. The forming ice crystals weren’t daunting, but it was proof his theory was coming true right before their eyes.

  “Grab the rest of the blankets,” he said. “We’re going to want them later. Let’s get out of the RV and start walking. I’ll explain along the way.”

  They gathered up all their things and bundled themselves tight with as many layers as they could. Sam stood by the door, staring at the foot of water lapping up to the second step. She shook her head and started to put her boot in it, but Tom clutched her arm as an idea struck him. “Wait, wait, wait. Come here.”

  He moved to the driver’s seat and knelt on it, rolling down the window to see the median next to them. The concrete barrier stood a foot above the waterline as the gentle flow of dirty floodwaters continued south into the tunnel’s depths. “If we can climb out there,” he nodded at the median, “we should be able to stay dry.”

  “That’s a great idea,” Jerry said, peering around him where the median stretched into the darkness.

  “Can you reach?” Sam asked.

  “I’ll give it a try.” Tom pulled off his backpack and put it through the window, dropping it on the median. He raised his arms and leaned out, slumping forward until his palms rested next to his pack, wiggling through, putting one foot on the door frame while bringing the other to the concrete. Once steady, he hopped down, slipping on the slick surface and banging his shin on the median’s edge. Tom clamped his lips on a curse as he quickly stood and bounced in place while sucking air through his teeth.

  “Are you okay?” Sam said, poking her head out.

  “Hnnngggg. Mm. Yeah. I’m fine. Just slipped a little.” He grimaced, settling his hopping down. “Go ahead and hand Jerry out.”

  “You’re up,” she said, backing into the cabin to give him room.

  Jerry knelt in the seat and put his one good arm through the window. “I’m not sure how I’m going to do this.”

  “Lean on your left side,” Tom said. “I’ll support your upper half.” He grasped Jerry’s good arm and grabbed his shirt with his right hand. “Get one foot on the door frame and bring the other down to the median.”

  It was awkward at first, but Jerry managed to wiggle and bounce on his side, pushing against Tom as he squirmed from the truck cab. Wedging his right foot into the corner of the door frame, he pressed Tom backward, drawing a gasp from the man.

  Tom glanced behind him as his heels settled on the edge of the median. Another inch, and he’d slide off the side into the water flow. Not a deadly fall – at least not immediately – but one that would have left him soaked and very cold.

  “Sorry,” Jerry grunted as he tried to get his left leg under his right. Using Tom as leverage, he rolled out and landed in an awkward, stretched way, but Tom held on, backing up along the median to keep his injured companion from smashing his face on the concrete. Clutching Jerry hard by his shirt, he held him up until he got his feet beneath him. The young man swayed groggily, forehead resting against Tom’s shoulder.

  “You okay?”

  “I think so,” Jerry nodded. “Just give me a second. My head feels like I’m walking down a rolling clown tunnel.”

  Sam winced. “That doesn’t sound fun.” Jerry held on for several more seconds before straightening slowly and taking a step back.

  “Okay, honey,” Tom gestured to Samantha. “Your turn.”

  Sam tossed her pack on the median, climbed from the cab, and jumped down easily before grabbing the backpack and swinging it onto her shoulder. “I’m ready. You guys good?”

  Jerry swooned a bit and Tom put an arm around him to take more of the weight. “Throw your arm around my neck. There you go.” Once Jerry was stabilized, Tom nodded to his pack. “Sam, can you hand me that?”

  “I can take it.” The girl grabbed the heavy backpack and shouldered it along with her own. She swayed slightly but leaned forward to balance them. “No problem.”

  Tom nodded his thanks. “You guys ready?”

  “Yup.” Jerry’s eyes lifted to th
e dripping ceiling. “Let’s get out of here. This place is creeping me out.”

  “Me, too,” Sam added, stepping to the edge so they could move past her. “How long do you think it will take us?”

  “No clue.” Tom focused forward, bringing Jerry alongside him and falling into a steady rhythm. He peered ahead through the gloom cast off by the RV’s single headlamp, the water rippling as though serpents were swimming beneath the surface. “Could be two miles. Could be ten. Any thoughts, Jerry?”

  The young man shook his head glumly. “No idea. Keep shining the light on the walls and maybe we’ll see a sign.”

  There was a low snap, and Sam’s flashlight came on, illuminating the wall to their left before she swung the light back to the right, searching for markers Jerry might recognize. Tom placed his right foot down carefully and bore the young man’s weight, then he swept his left foot forward, falling into a hunched rhythm. While his back felt strong, his stooping posture caused his spine to be uncomfortably bent, and he didn’t know how long he could walk like Quasimodo.

  When Sam’s light hit a marker on the wall that read, Sandbridge Beach, Two Miles, Tom’s hopes soared.

  “Hey, two miles isn’t bad,” he stepped faster. “At this rate, I’d say it’ll take us a little over ninety minutes.”

  “A creepy, wet, long walk.” Sam ‘s light pierced the gloom. “Just what I always wanted to do.”

  “Don’t forget the cold,” Tom chuckled dryly. In spite of their situation, they were still alive and moving. At the moment, that was all that mattered.

  Chapter 3

  Barbara, Wyndale, Virginia

  The mid-morning sun pushed at the layer of gray clouds that stretched across the horizon, but it could not punch through. Wind blew in heavy gusts over the treetops in the yard, bending the branches in undulating ripples of rustling leaves as grass waved in the wide fields that rose from both sides of the road. Debris whipped through the air, paper and broad-leafed fronds turning and flipping in the wind, their forms slapping against tree and fencepost alike before vanishing into the distance.

  Rain fell on the old, gray Ford F150’s windshield before the wiper swiped it away. The truck sped down the road a little too fast, going ten or twenty miles per hour over the speed limit, swerving into the center lane and whipping back to the right, slowing as it drew closer to a gravel driveway. The truck turned in and trundled up toward the house, wheels crunching, suspension shaking as it passed the recently harvested field wet from rain storms and circled around to the right of the house, pulling in behind a blue Astro van. Barbara put the truck into park and killed the engine, her trembling hands tapping nervously on the steering wheel as she released a quivering sigh.

  “Are you okay, Mom?” Linda leveled a stare at her mother from the passenger side.

  “I’m fine,” she said, flashing her middle child a hesitant smile. Then she reached for the door handle and popped it open. “You ready to help get all this stuff inside?”

  “Yep!” Linda got out, Jack hopping down behind her. Barbara shoved the door the rest of the way open and met them at the back, lowering the tailgate to reveal three dozen bags of goods. Two bags rolled from atop the pile, but her daughter caught them before everything could spill out. One orange escaped and rumbled toward the edge and Barbara reached to snag it before it fell, but her clumsy grab only knocked it to the gravel.

  She bit back a curse and turned to pick it up, but Jack was already there. He bent and snapped up the fruit, lifting it to show its unblemished peel. “It’s okay,” he smiled. “It’s okay, Mom.”

  The one thing they didn’t have much of on the farm was fresh fruit, and she’d wanted to pick up some before the stores ran out. That was the reason they’d braved town again – and it was truly the last time they'd be going back.

  “Thanks, kiddo.” Barbara took the orange from the boy and returned it to the bag. “Hands please.”

  Jack held out his hands and made fists, and she slipped some of the lighter bags on his wrists. She and Linda lifted the heavier ones, and the trio walked toward the back of the house. Barbara glanced down at the pickup’s front end as they passed it, shaking her head at a large dent on the fender where the truck’s faded blue paint was stripped away, leaving bare metal and the streaks of white from the other car. As she turned around the corner of the house, the bags bounced off her legs. Smooch greeted them with a low woof and a wagging tail, ears up and head tilted curiously to the side. Jack’s gleeful cry at the sight of the dog broke through her surliness, and Barbara grinned at his ability to go from zero to happy simply at the sight of his animal friend.

  She set her bags down by the sliding glass door. Drawing the key from her purse with her still-shaking hands, she struggled to fit it into the lock. She took a deep breath to calm herself, then unlocked the door and shoved it aside.

  “On the table, please,” she called out after them as Jack plowed through with his bags smacking against the door frame. “Easy, buddy. Don’t bruise the fruit.”

  The boy placed his burden on the table, followed by Linda. Barbara took her bags to the counter and set them down before removing food items and grouping them to be more easily put away. Glancing over, she saw her son trying to slip outside to play with Smooch.

  “Hold up, Jack. I loaded some new lessons into your school application.” She gave him a pointed look. “Why don’t you get started on that?”

  “Aw, Mom. Do I have to do schoolwork now?”

  “No time--”

  “Like the present,” Linda finished for her mother as she dropped bags on the table.

  Barbara flashed her daughter a pleased look before doubling back on the boy. “You can play with Smooch later. Get upstairs and open your lessons.”

  “Okay, fine.” Jack turned and slapped his legs, moping dejectedly through the kitchen.

  “The door, please.”

  Jack spun on his heel, marched back to the door, and slid it shut before dragging his feet all the way to the stairs.

  “Attitude adjustment!” she called out, getting a half-hearted “yes, ma’am” mumbled back in response. With Jack sorted, Barbara and Linda began to work in earnest on putting away the groceries.

  “Bristol was insane, Mom. Right?”

  “Insane doesn’t properly describe it,” Barbara said. She gathered the plastic bags into a bundle and placed them under the sink to save for later. “Dangerous, stupid, and greedy would probably describe it better.”

  Her heart rate kicked up and sweat beaded on her forehead as she recalled the day’s shopping trip – one where she’d almost killed a man. When she woke up that morning, her hope had been to beat the crowds by hitting the stores before anyone else, but she’d been terribly wrong. By the time they arrived in Bristol, people were out and about, speeding everywhere, horns beeping as she’d witnessed a half-dozen near collisions. The grocery store and mini mart lots were packed, folks jostling at the entrances and shoving huge cartloads of food to their vehicles.

  Sirens had wailed the entire time, and she’d occasionally caught sight of flashing lights as police cruisers and ambulances rushed through town.

  “It was a bad idea going there in the first place.” She opened a cabinet and stacked soup cans inside.

  “Well, you couldn’t have known everyone would be acting so weird.” Linda brought over a handful of matching items.

  “I disagree,” Barbara replied. “I knew people would be acting weird. I just didn’t listen to my instincts. Do you believe those two at the Market Saver?”

  “Not at all.”

  The first sign that returning to Bristol had been a bad idea happened when they drove past the Market Saver on the north edge of town. While sitting in a short line of traffic, Barbara had glanced into the parking lot to see a man and woman approaching another smaller woman putting groceries in the back of her car. The newcomers had stood inches over her, looking predatory and fearless.

  “When I saw those standing over her like
that, I almost jumped out of my skin.” Barbara shook her head.

  “Me, too. That was super creepy. Do you think they would have hurt her?”

  “Who knows? Maybe if those two guys hadn’t come along.”

  “When the lady tried to slam her trunk shut and the guy stuck out his hand and caught it?” Linda’s voice held a mixture of fear and uncertainty. “I knew there’d be trouble. Then when he started yelling at her…” Her brow furrowed. “Do you think they’ve done that routine a lot?”

  “Probably. It was pretty effective,” Barbara admitted.

  “I can’t believe she didn’t notice. The grocery bags must have made noise when the guy’s…accomplice started yanking them out of the trunk.”

  Linda grabbed a net of tangerines and put them in the bottom drawer of the fridge. “Is that why we went to the Meat King? Because you knew the other places would be bad?”

  “That was my intention,” Barbara replied. She turned and leaning against the counter. “But that didn’t turn out so well either, did it?”

  “No. The Meat King was stuffed with people. And the shelves were totaled.” People had nearly picked the store clean by the time she’d parked and got the kids inside and they’d pushed their cart past two dozen people surrounding the meat counter where Matthew Trimboli worked feverishly to fulfill orders.

  “We still got mostly what we needed,” Barbara said, biting her lip, remembering the mad dash through the store where people were grabbing anything and everything. She stepped to the table and lined up the five first aid kits they’d found pushed to the rear of a bottom shelf though in truth it was Jack who’d actually discovered them, bending low to the ground where no one else could see.

  “Can you believe the Meat King ran out of actual meat?” Linda leaned against the wall of breakfast nook.

  “I’ve never seen that happen.” Barbara folded her arms over her chest. “People weren't happy when Matthew announced it.”

  “Especially that old guy. He said it was bullsh--”

  “Language…” She cut her daughter off with an exasperated look.