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

by Mike Kraus

  Tom stared at his daughter, but she only raised a questioning eyebrow at him. “The thought had crossed my mind,” he admitted. “But I want to make sure we have no other choice. I think--”

  A bustle outside their tent stopped Tom from speaking and the tent flap flew to the side as Sergeant Landry stepped in, nodding to each of them in turn.

  “Glad to see you had breakfast. I was going to take you to see Banks now, but if you want to finish--”

  “No, let’s go now.” Tom put down his fork and dusted off his hands. Then he looked at Sam and Jerry. “You two are staying here.”

  Tom rose and followed the sergeant outside, sticking close behind him as they wove through the bustling parking lot. Their tent was directly south of the prefab military buildings where he’d spoken with Banks the previous day, and Landry took him to the same building, they climbed the same stairs, moved past the guards, and stepped inside the conference room. Tom took a seat up front, facing the screens, and Landry circled around to sit opposite him. Wasting no time, he raised a remote control and powered on the network device to connect them to the lieutenant, the screen immediately turning blue.

  “The call is in,” Landry said, eyes shifting from Tom to the screen. “We’ll just wait for them to accept the call.”

  Tom nodded and leaned back, studying the sergeant’s stoic features. “You have family around here?”

  “No, sir.” The sergeant turned his dark eyes on Tom. “They’re in Florida.”

  “Hopefully not near the beach.”

  Landry shook his head with a dark chuckle. “They’re just outside Kissimmee.”

  “Ah, good. They should be safe from the initial flooding, then. Have you spoken to them recently?”

  “I spoke to them two days ago.”

  “What are their plans?”

  “They’re going to circle the Gulf and meet up with our relatives in Alabama. I told them to go sooner than later, before the roads get too bad.”

  Tom mulled that last part over. “The roads’ll be packed with cars as people flooded inland. Eventually they’d turn south, chased by the cold Banks was talking about.” He sighed. “At least you got to talk to them. I haven’t spoken to my wife and kids for a while. I guess going on a week.”

  Landry’s hard expression softened and he lowered his voice. “I just want you to know, I understand your concern. I felt the same way when my dad first insisted on staying in Florida. I had to convince him it would be safer in Alabama. Of course, I’m stuck here, so I can’t help them do anything. I really do sympathize with you.”

  Tom’s expression flattened as he stared at the pressboard table, summoning the faces of his wife and children into his mind. “I guess everyone is going through something right now.”

  The screen blinked from the blue to a view of Banks’s conference room. The lieutenant colonel was seated in the same chair as the previous day, buttoned up tighter, her hair pulled into a bun so tight it was hard to tell where her forehead stopped and the hair began. She man appeared rested, but no less hard-edged, all pretense of her initial good nature having fallen by the wayside.

  “Mr. McKnight.”

  “Lieutenant Colonel Banks,” he nodded cordially, setting his jaw in preparation for a verbal joust.

  “I hope you had some time to think about what we discussed.”

  “I have. And I can’t say--”

  “Before you go on.” Banks raised a finger. “I just want to reiterate my dedication to your family’s safety.”

  “I appreciate that, ma’am, but--”

  “And we’ve got a great team working at a top-secret location. You’ll be sitting with the greatest minds.” The officer lowered her voice. “Along with the president’s own top advisors.”

  Tom shook his head and spoke the next part with a growl. “The last place I want to be right now is in a top-secret location. Where I need to be is home with my family. I know they’re alive, but that’s all I know. Based on what I’ve read and heard, Bristol could soon be overwhelmed with refugees. That puts them in the direct line of looting and lawlessness, and you know it.”

  Banks folded her hands on the table. “The president has staunchly come out against that sort of thing. He won’t let it happen, especially not to your family.”

  Tom laughed, raising his hands and looking around the empty room in disbelief. “He can’t stop it. I don’t think anyone can. At least not all of it.”

  Banks shifted in her seat. “We can take you to your wife and kids before you set off. We can even—”

  “You only have one gear, don’t you?” Tom leaned back, shaking his head. “Your plan is always to just throw people or money or equipment at a problem, figuring it will solve things. You’ll send a platoon of soldiers to my farmstead, but would even one of them know how to take care of animals or work a greenhouse? Can any of them farm? Can they maintain a hydroponic garden so they have food for the coming freeze? I don’t think so.”

  “We can bring them to us.”

  “So, you have a camp for all government employees and military families? You’ll just pick up my wife, kids, and dog and transport them to some camp where they’ll live happily ever after?”

  Banks nodded.

  “Where’s that?”

  “Fort Campbell, Kentucky. That’s where most of our families are.”

  Tom was already shaking his head. “Sorry, Banks, but that’s not good enough. If we go anywhere, it’ll be south. We need to get away from the cold.” Leaning forward, he spread his hands on the table, summoning a pleasant tone. “I’m begging you, ma’am. Let us go so we can get home and prepare for what’s coming.”

  Banks sat in mute silence for ten full seconds, her face turning slightly red, her hands clenching tighter on the table. The woman seemed to want to say something, working on the angle, the gears grinding in her head.

  She finally shook her head, pointing at the camera. “Look, McKnight. I need you to get on board with this. The Joint Chiefs of Staff are counting on you joining the team. Hell, the president is counting on it. This is an all-hands-on-deck event, You can’t stand on the sidelines being selfish. Especially not after…”

  Tom leaned forward with a hard glare, cutting the woman off before she could finish. “That’s water under a very old, very burned bridge, Banks. You’re damned lucky I’m even still choosing to speak with you anymore. And now you’re calling me selfish for wanting to go home to my family?”

  “It’s not just about you and yours.” Banks spoke quietly, her own voice simmering with anger. “It’s about the country and the millions of lives at stake.”

  “Where do you find the gall, Banks? After I took my daughter aboard the Marin, risking our lives to help with the data. Then, when the ship was being torn apart and you ignored my initial warning? Who was being selfish then?”

  Banks dropped her eyes to the table, jaw grinding.

  “Let me remind you that I had to scream at you to get people aboard the lifeboat.” Tom’s voice remained level, but his shoulders shook with anger, his palms pressed to the table to keep himself under control. “If you had you’re your damned job and listened to me, you could have gotten more people off that boat. Same story as before, Banks. You don’t listen and people die.”

  “You will not put that on me. Not then and not now.” Banks’ face turned beet red and she stiffened and gave an indignant shake of her head. “No one could have predicted what the anomaly was going to do.”

  Tom shook his head. “I’m not blaming you for that. What I’m saying is, I don’t trust you. I’ve tried, for the sake of everyone, to leave the past in the past, but the fact is you’re still as untrustworthy now as you’ve always been.” Tom slammed his fist on the table. “You don’t have my family’s best interests at heart. Moving them to Kentucky is a terrible idea! They’ll be better off on the farmstead with me and Samantha and Jerry there.”

  As Tom spoke, Banks’ eyes grew haunted, and she followed with a tone of rising
anger. “I don’t think you understand, Tom. The president will eventually declare martial law. That means you’ll need to follow orders. It won’t be up to you, so you might as well--”

  “You’ll let us go,” Tom glared. “Until martial law is announced, you’ll let us go.”

  Banks rose slowly, both hands pressed to the table, the corner of her mouth twitching below narrowed eyes. “You don’t give me orders, McKnight. You take orders from me.”

  “I’m a citizen, Banks!” Tom stood up to match her stance, slamming both fists on the table. “You can’t keep me here locked up because you want me to piss into the wind with the rest of you! I’m at least going to save my family or die trying.” Tom shot Sergeant Landry a warning look before he turned and grabbed the doorknob.

  “Sit your ass down, McKnight!” Banks shouted through the conference room speakers. With a grimace, Tom threw open the door and came face-to-face with the two MPs who’d barred his way the day before, the taller man standing with his fists balled up, ready to fight, while the woman held her hand poised near the taser at her belt.

  “Let me through,” he growled, stepping forward and turning his shoulders to the side.

  The big MP stepped back, his eyes flicking past Tom to Sergeant Landry for a moment before the pair closed ranks, shoulder-to-shoulder as they blocked his way through. The MP caught Tom’s arm and shoved him back inside the room, and the female guard drew her taser, raising it, ready to fire.

  “Don’t make me,” she warned, giving her head a brief shake.

  “Sergeant, take Mr. McKnight, his daughter, and their friend to general population,” Banks snapped. “They can stew with the low-lives if they want to.”

  “General population?” Tom turned to glare at the screen. “What the hell do you mean, general population? What do you mean low-lives?!”

  “That will be all.” Banks pounded a button on her side of the screen, and the display flicked to blue once more.

  “Let’s go, sir.” Sergeant Landry had come around the table and was gesturing at the door. “Follow the MPs, please. They’ll take you back to your tent to collect your daughter and friend. And just to make sure we’re clear, I’ve been given authorization to use force if necessary. Please don’t resist.”

  Tom scowled at the man, and it took every ounce of strength just to keep from hitting the guy, or giving him a piece of his mind.

  “Please, sir.” Landry’s head cocked to the side, eyes imploring. With a look between the three people standing before him, Tom allowed his shoulders to sag and he nodded, wearily, allowing himself to be guided back to the tent.

  ***

  “We fought tooth and nail for that crap!” Jerry yelled, glaring at the army staffer who threw their backpacks on a cart and wheeled them out the door. The young man turned to Tom. “Maybe you should have gone along with them.”

  Tom stood there with his hands on his hips as he looked on angrily, Landry and his two soldiers keeping watch, making sure they didn’t interfere or try to flee.

  “That’s all our stuff, Dad.” Sam sat on her cot, watching wide-eyed as soldiers hauled their supplies away. “Are they going to throw us out into the street with nothing?”

  “We’re taking you to general population,” Landry replied. “You’ll get three squares a day and have a place to sleep. Follow us, please.” The two soldiers stepped outside while the sergeant gestured for the trio to exit behind them.

  “At least you left his sling,” Tom pointed out dryly as he passed the sergeant. “Or do you need that, too?”

  Landry only shook his head and followed them from the tent. Outside, they turned and walked north across a huge parking lot, fenced off between of a big square of stores.

  “Is this a prison camp?” Jerry asked, his eyes narrow as he squinted ahead.

  Tom twisted his lips in doubt, eyes narrowed. The fencing was standard chain link with a round layer of razor wire on top, the corners guarded by armed soldiers who walked the perimeter in pairs, cradling their rifles as they talked softly. About two hundred people milled around in the fenced-in area that they could see, gathering in groups by picnic benches or army tents. Old lawn furniture and chairs lay everywhere, some pulled up to metal burn barrels with flames licking over their edges, residents standing next to them, rubbing their hands above the heat while others held sticks with food stuck to the ends, turning them slowing above the barrels.

  Landry guided them to the main gate protected by three armed guards. Two stood on either side of the entrance while an officer sat at a table, staring at a computer tablet with her hair tucked up in her military cap. As they approached she slapped the tablet down on the table, her dark eyes studying the trio intently. Landry motioned for them to wait while he had a word with the officer, presumably relaying Banks’s orders and, after a moment of nodding, the woman tapped on her tablet screen before looking up with a raised voice.

  “Got them all checked in. Go ahead.”

  One guard turned to the gate and punched in a code on the keypad, and while Tom tried his best, he couldn’t see what was being punched in. There came a beep a second later, and the guard pulled the door open, gesturing for the trio to enter. The refugees inside turned their eyes to the gate, their stares like heat on his skin. Tom turned to Landry, expression, burning with the accusation that needed no words.

  The sergeant’s expression softened but didn’t waiver. “Sorry, Mr. McKnight, but you need to go on in. Don’t make me force you.”

  With a nod, Tom led Sam and Jerry inside, the gate slamming shut behind them, lock snapping closed. He turned to watch as the trio of soldiers marched away, Landry casting a final, sorrowful glance back at them before they vanished before a tent.

  “What do we do now?” Sam hugged herself as she glanced around at the prying eyes.

  “I guess we find a place to settle in and wait,” Tom replied.

  “This is crazy,” Jerry looked nervously around. “I can’t believe we’re in an actual prison camp.”

  “Relax,” Tom said. “Banks wants me for something, or she would have let us go.”

  “Yeah, but she could have kept us in the tent.” Jerry stuck close to Sam and Tom. “Why did they stuff us in here?”

  “That’s Banks’s ego talking. She’s a control freak. She… she can’t stand the thought of someone not following her orders right away. Sam, you saw how he was on the Marin.” The girl nodded. “Yeah, well, I’ve worked with her before. She can be worse than that. Way worse.”

  “I’d hate to catch her on a bad day,” Jerry groaned.

  Tom scratched his head and looked around. “Right now, all we need to worry about is getting out of here and back home before things get worse.” He gestured to an older man and a younger woman seated at a picnic bench. “They look like nice people. Come on, let’s go make friends.”

  Eyes casting furtively around, shoulders tensed for confrontation, Tom led them through the pressing crowd, ignoring stares and murmurs and outright sneers. Reaching the table, he studied the pair. The man was skinny, in his mid-sixties, with a shag of thin gray hair poking out from beneath his blue hat. The woman looked to be in her early thirties, wearing a gas station jacket over her overalls. The man hunkered down as the trio approached, though the woman peered at them with a degree of curiosity.

  Tom held up his hands in an unassuming manner, offering a smile he hoped didn’t make him look like a maniac.

  “Hi, folks,” he said. “We mean you no harm. I’m Tom.”

  “What do you want?” the man asked with narrowed eyes, voice gruff with a congestion from years of smoking.

  Tom tried to scoff good-naturedly. “Sorry, I just thought I’d get to know my fellow inmates. You know, since we’re all prisoners here.”

  “We shouldn’t be,” the man snapped back. “I was doing just fine when the feds came.”

  The woman offered a tentative smile and her hand. “I’m Betty, and this is my father, Timothy. Good to meet you.”

&n
bsp; Tom reached out and shook her hand before stepping back. “This is my daughter, Samantha and our friend, Jerry. Good to meet you, too. Mind if we sit?”

  “Not at all.” The woman gestured at the free space on the picnic table. “Please do. And don’t mind my dad, he’s a little grumpy today.”

  “They should have just left us alone,” Timothy continued grumbling under his breath. He held a foam cup of coffee in front of him, half filled with some suspicious-looking black swill.

  “Go ahead, guys,” Tom told Sam and Jerry. “Have a seat.”

  The two sat opposite Timothy and Betty, looking uncomfortable and a little cold. Tom stood straight and glanced around before turning his attention back to Betty, his expression flat and pleasant, desperate for information but not wanting to press her too hard.

  “Have you been here long?” he asked.

  “Just came in yesterday. Slept in one of the tents with another family last night.”

  “Did the troops assign you to it?”

  Betty glanced toward the tents and chuckled. “It’s first come, first serve. Just hope you find someone nice to bunk up with or you’ll be out here sleeping on a bench.”

  “In this cold?”

  “They gave us these.” Betty reached between them and lifted a small pillow roll and a shiny thermal blanket.

  “Inadequate,” Tom said with a head shake. “Looks like we’ll be fighting for a spot tonight.” He pursed his lips. “So, what are you two in for?”

  “Minding our damn business,” Timothy grumbled.

  Betty gave her father a warning look. “Be nice, Dad.”

  “We’ll, I ain’t wrong.”

  She shook her head and raised her eyes to Tom. “We’re from just south of Salisbury. Dad owns a small farm around there. I was checking in on him after the storm and helping clean up when the word came down for the evacuation.”

  “Evacuation?”

  “That’s right. We couldn’t figure out why they wanted us out after the storm. I guessed it was for the flooding they talked about on the news. Still, Daddy’s farm is up on a rise, so we opted to stay.”