A Bad Day (Book 1): A Bad Day

by DiMauro, Thomas

  "Where are you taking me?" Jim asked.

  "You'll see soon enough," Donner said patting Jim's knee and winking at him. Jim felt a bolt of fear pass through him that made him suddenly nauseous. He regretted not running or, at least, fighting when he had the chance. Sure he would have been shot to death but that began to seem like the better option.

  The light became increasingly dim but he could still see the group park their motorcycles and head into the main building. Donner flipped on the headlights. They drove the wrong way down the exit ramp into the rest stop. Gas pumps came into view with a small building that served as a convenience store and beyond that was a much larger building with all of the restaurants and shops of the rest area.

  Donner pulled the car over to the small building and got out. He came around to the other side of the car and drew his gun. With his other hand he pulled the passenger door open.

  "Get out," he said pointing his gun at Jim.

  Jim got out of the car. Donner grabbed his arm and took him to the entrance of the store. He unlocked the door, took off his handcuffs, and shoved him inside.

  Ivy fends off the Aliens - Night Tue Sep 3

  Ivy wasn't prepared for the scene that confronted her when she got to the bottom of the stairs. In fact all the way down she wondered if the creatures she had seen were something else. Something her tired mind had misinterpreted. Part of her believed, against all reason, that when she peeked out from the stairwell she would see Skeeter asleep against the wall and David curled up on the floor.

  Instead she saw a bizarre looking creature with part of its head blown off in a large puddle of an oily black substance that could only be its own blood. Up against the wall, where she last saw him, lay Skeeter or what was left of him.

  His body had turned almost black and leathery. His features were frozen in a rictus of anguish with his head tipped back and his mouth open. The sight made her grimace and her gorge began rise. She swallowed hard to force it back.

  A distant scrape broke the eerie silence. Her eyes move to the doorway where the sound emanated. The other creature had fled, but where it originally stood was a long streak of blood leading to the door.

  With the large revolver gripped by both hands she stepped into the room and cautiously began to move toward the door. When she walked half way across the room she noticed the thing's dismembered hand and forearm on the floor. She looked out the doorway and saw the outline of it crawling along the ground.

  She suddenly realized the illuminated area was due to a small oval craft about fifty yards away. It had an open doorway that spilled out bright light. The creature crawled for it. She couldn't let it get away and yet she found the idea of just shooting it as it dragged away defenseless kind of disturbing. It was against her nature.

  She turned and looked back at Skeeter and convinced herself this wasn't a peaceful creature. She rested the revolver against the door frame and took careful aim. The hammer fell and the gun jerked violently. A flame leaped from the barrel in the dim light and an ear splitting crack echoed across the landscape. The bullet struck its torso and caused it to roll several times.

  She stood for a few seconds and made sure it wasn't moving. Then the gun and her whole body suddenly seemed so heavy, she sank to the ground. She put her back against the wall and ran a violently trembling hand through her long blond hair. Realizing she was panting, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She closed her eyes for a moment. Her mind raced and yet she seemed unable to form a single coherent thought other than wonder what had just happened.

  She opened her eyes again with the hope of finding she had just been having a nightmare but the odd scene before her remained the same. Outside, a dead alien lay on the ground. Inside another lay in a pool of its own blood a few feet in front of her. Skeeter was burnt to a crisp and David was...gone? She pushed herself up and noticed his office door was shut.

  Taking care not to step in any of the gore with her bare feet she went to his office and pushed on the door. It opened part way and then hit something. She heard him scrambling around inside.

  "David? David, it's me," she said. The movement stopped.

  "Thank god," he said and she heard him sigh with relief, "You'd better just push hard, I'm not sure I have the energy to move that again."

  She threw her weight against the door a few times until it opened enough for her to squeeze in. She peered into the dimness but couldn't see very well. "It's okay to come out. Those things are dead."

  David half crawled and half walked out of the room with Ivy's help. He stared at the scene much as Ivy had, with shock and disbelief.

  "I'll be god dammed. He was telling the truth," David finally said.

  "Who was?"

  David lifted his chin toward the burnt thing that was Skeeter. "Him. He told me this story...I thought he was crazy or maybe attention seeking. Either way I didn't believe him," he paused and then whispered, "He was telling the truth."

  "I think that's probably their ship outside."

  David looked through the doorway to the source of light that spilled into the room. Then he looked down at himself as he realized he only had on underwear and socks. Not the best way to be walking in the desert. He stepped to the doorway to get a better view. The night air of the desert sent a chill through him.

  His eyes first noticed the body on the ground and then the small craft in the distance. Nearly invisible in the moonlight, it seemed to reflect the surroundings in such a way that it appeared to be nothing more than a small bump on the landscape. If it wasn't for the open door pouring light out the thing would have been undetectable. The design was ingenious. He turned back to Ivy who stared at Skeeter with fascinated horror. "Do you think there are any more of them?"

  "With all the shooting that's been going on, I think, if there were, they would have either come out to help or run away."

  David began to feel fatigued from the fright and exertion of trying to escape. Another chill ran through his body. "Dammit, I really wish I had something else to wear."

  "You don't have any spare clothes or shoes here?"

  "Why would I? I'm not really that long of a drive from home and other than go to the gym I..." he paused with a sudden realization, "Hey, wait a minute. I might have my gym bag in the back seat of my car. Would you mind?"

  "I need to put my boots back on," she said and then disappeared upstairs for a few minutes. She came back down fully dressed and went out to the car. After a minute or so she returned with a black duffel bag and handed it to David. He emptied the sparse contents onto the floor.

  "I see you're a minimalist," Ivy said.

  David shrugged. "What more would I need at the gym?" he said gesturing to the shorts and sneakers.

  "Well, after this experience I'm keeping a coat, boots, and extra box of ammo in my gym bag."

  David managed a wan smile. He put on the shorts and sneakers. It wasn't much of an improvement in terms of the cold but the sneakers meant he could walk outside much more easily. Even though he felt cold, exhausted, and hungry all he could think about was getting inside that alien space craft.

  "Feel like taking a walk with me," David said inclining his head toward the alien ship.

  "Curiosity killed the cat, doctor."

  "Good thing we aren't cats."

  "Good thing," she agreed.

  Jim's escape from the Road Queens - Night Tue Sep 3

  The air inside the small building smelled stale. The only light came from a bright moon hidden behind clouds. He heard movement coming from the back and as his eyes began to adjust to the darkness he saw several figures getting up from the ground. As they got closer he could see an older man in a dress shirt and sport coat leading the pack. He had the distinctive air of a salesman. With him, but hanging further back, stood a younger Hispanic man wearing a cap and golf shirt with the gas station logo and a middle aged woman with dyed red hair, Capri pants, and gold sandals that somehow glittered even in the dim light.

  "We
lcome to hell," said the old man.

  "Well, I prefer hell for the company," Jim said.

  The old man smiled and put out his hand, "Harry Travis and I guess you must be Mark Twain," he said. Jim took his hand and smiled back a wan smile. "This is Lenore and Luis," he said tipping his head to one side and then the other. The woman, who looked terrified, barely nodded an acknowledgment. The Hispanic man's face looked odd. The skin was mottled and his eye looked like it might be swollen but it was hard to tell in the dim light. He didn't say anything but looked away as if he were trying to hide his face.

  "Jim Mulrooney," Jim said, "What happened to him?"

  "They forced him to fight that crazy bastard, Vincent. I guess you haven't met him yet?"

  "I don't think so."

  "You would know, believe me. You hungry? Thirsty?"

  Jim had been through so much in the last twenty-four hours he hadn't given much thought to food. He had eaten hardly anything and now he suddenly found himself famished. "Yeah, I'm kind of starving," he said.

  "Well, all we got is gas station food but it's better than nothing," Harry said and walked to the refrigerator case. Luis began to say something and move toward the old man. "Now don't you start with that crap again. We've got bigger problems than you losing your job over a couple of drinks and some beef jerky." Luis relented looking defeated.

  Harry brought over a couple of bottles of warm iced tea and a couple of beef sticks. Jim cracked open the first bottle and chugged it down like a frat boy at a keg party. Then he peeled open a beef stick and took a couple bites. He couldn't remember the last time he had one but it tasted way better than he remembered.

  "So, who the hell are these guys?" Jim asked.

  "Here have a seat," Harry said pointing to a spot on the floor near a counter. "I don't really know too much about them except they are some kind of gay motorcycle gang. A lot of them are ex-military from what I could gather. They call themselves 'The Road Queens.’"

  "Unbelievable," Jim said shaking his head.

  "One of the few times I decide to stop for gas and it has to be here..."

  "Believe me it could be worse," Jim said, thinking back on what he had been through in the last day.

  "What are the roads like?"

  "Some sections are intact. Others are really bad. I didn't see very many people."

  The old man sighed and looked down. "I wish I had a boat. You could probably avoid a lot of the mess and just make a bee line for home. At least my home anyway. If I get out of here I think I would head for the coast. We aren't that far away really."

  "That's a great idea. I could get pretty close myself," Jim said. Then his attention was drawn away by a tap on the store entrance doors. He looked up and saw a German shepherd sitting outside.

  "Where the hell did he come from?" Harry said surprised by the sight.

  "I think that may be my dog," Jim said and then a little Chihuahua came up to the glass door and put his paws up on it, "Yeah, those are mine." It felt weird to say that considering he had met them not that long ago, but it felt right. He went over to the door and crouched down. B.A. pawed the door asking to be let in. "I can't it's locked," Jim said.

  The dogs looked over their shoulders and suddenly ran off. A few seconds later Jim heard the rumble of an engine and saw a headlight coming toward the door. A motorcycle with a sidecar pulled up and stopped with its light trained on the entrance. Jim backed away from the door. Two men got off and pulled out flashlights. One drew a pistol while the other looked through a bunch of keys. After a few seconds they approached the door.

  "Oh shit, this is the guy I told you about," Harry said keeping his voice low.

  "Great," Jim muttered. The guy with the keys unlocked the door and held it open for the other. The man with the gun strode into the room with the confidence and attitude of someone in charge. He wore tan combat boots, digital camo army pants and a black leather vest with no shirt underneath. He was the first person Jim had ever seen face to face who actually had six pack abs. Something seemed familiar about him. The other man with him stood by the door.

  "Something very serious has happened to our country," he began in a deep, gentle and quiet voice that surprised Jim.

  "Obviously," Jim said but the man's piercing gaze kept him from saying anything more. In that moment he realized he knew this man from somewhere but he couldn't place him.

  "I am not speaking about this current disaster. I am the kind of man who sees this current crisis as opportunity. I am referring to the last fifteen to twenty years. I am referring to the erosion of the fundamental principles and furthermore the spirit on which our nation was founded."

  "Vinny Dinewski?" Jim asked. The man raised the flashlight and shined it directly on Jim's face blinding him momentarily.

  "Comet, give us a minute," Vincent said over his shoulder to the man at the door. He nodded, went outside and stood near the motorcycle. "Jim Mulrooney, of all the rest stops in all of New Jersey, you wind up in mine."

  "You're gay?"

  "You haven't seen me in twenty years and that's the first thing you ask?" Vincent said raising his voice for the first time. "What fucking difference does that make? Our country was supposed to be founded on personal freedom to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Yet for some reason what I do in my bedroom bothers other people. I speak Arabic, Persian, and Pashto. I am a trained military intelligence officer. I was very good at my job, but that wasn't good enough for the army either--"

  "I didn't..." Jim began but a flash of movement outside caught his attention. There came growling and a grunting thud as the man outside fell over under the paws of a German shepherd. Vincent turned his head for a moment to see what had happened. Luis exploded out of the darkness and came right at him. Vincent's head snapped toward the sound and with only a slight tip of the pistol he calmly fired two shots while stepping aside to avoid the corpse crumbling to the ground.

  Jim's ears were ringing from the explosions in an enclosed space. The woman Lenore screamed. Vincent turned to step outside putting a hand on the door. Jim only had a moment to act. If he did nothing B.A. would be dead and in all likelihood they would be too.

  He aimed low, taking two long strides before connecting with Vincent's thighs. He drove his shoulder in and simultaneously grabbed both his legs continuing to push forward with all his strength. Vincent's face and body slammed into the door throwing it violently open and the pair fell onto the asphalt in a heap. Vincent's gun skidded away a few feet on impact. Out of nowhere Tiny appeared and dragged the gun away by its trigger guard. The other man tried to get at his gun with his left hand while B.A.'s jaws were clamped on his right forearm.

  Jim rolled off to get into a better position and out of habit got into a ready stance. Vincent felt for the flashlight, rolled over and flung it at Jim's head. The bezel of the light caught Jim on the cheek, splitting it open and stunning him. His hands went to his face reactively. His eyes began tearing from the pain and clouding his vision. Vincent got up and began running after Tiny who tried to drag the pistol as far away as he could. He caught up quickly and kicked Tiny who flew away with a yelp dropping the gun in the process.

  Jim tried to shake off the blow. Realizing he was close to the man B.A. attacked he walked over and kicked him in the crotch. The man cried out and all movement stopped including his breathing.

  Jim took the man's gun from its holster. The dog, realizing the man was no longer a threat, let go of his arm. Jim and the dog both looked up as Vincent picked his gun up from the ground. Jim let loose a volley of unaimed shots in Vincent's direction while B.A. took off at full speed lunging for him. By sheer luck a shot grazed Vincent's shoulder tearing open the flesh and causing blood to spill down his arm.

  He gritted his teeth and got off a shot as B.A. reached him and knocked him to the ground. The shot bounced off the concrete and Jim nearly wet himself as he felt the air from the ricochet fly by his head. Tiny hobbled back toward the motorcycle as Jim looked on in
horror as Vincent somehow flipped the German shepherd slamming him onto his back. The dog let go for a split second and Vincent kicked him brutally. The dog yelped and ran back a few steps.

  "Back off," Jim screamed with the gun raised. "Back off or I will fill you so full of lead you'll never be able to swim again."

  "That's creative," Vincent said as he raised his hands reluctantly. There were shouts in the distance and the sounds of engines starting. "If you're going to try and get away now would be the time. You had better watch your back though because if I ever find you I will rain down hell upon you."

  Jim picked Tiny up gently and placed him in the sidecar. He straddled the motorcycle, started it and called to B.A. who came over and jumped in. There was no way to help the others in the store. He had neither the time or the means. Tucking the pistol in the back of his pants he put the bike in gear and took off into the darkness without looking back.

  Turnello and Raj plan an escape route - Early Morning Wed Sep 4

  Turnello woke the next morning to an ominous gray sky, unsure of the time. For someone who spent a lifetime having difficulty sleeping he slept unusually well for the second night in a row. He stretched and yawned trying to get his blood flowing. His first thoughts in the morning often involved an espresso and this morning wouldn't be different.

  He realized his La Pavoni became useless without electricity but fortunately he had a back up plan involving an old fashioned stove top espresso maker. He peeked around the corner to see Raj still asleep on the couch. Not wanting to wake him he padded quietly to the stove and dug out everything he needed.

  He felt fortunate the stove used propane so with the electricity out all he needed was a match to get it going. He set the coffee pot on a low flame and went to the bathroom to wash up. Without electric his oil burner and well pump wouldn't work so he had to settle for an armpit and crotch wash with cold water out of a gallon jug. Forget energy drinks. Nothing could wake you up quite as effectively as pouring cold water on your genitals first thing in the morning.