Dark New World (Book 1): Dark New World

by Henry G. Foster

  Twenty minutes later they were all dressed and ready. They carried bundles of fishing gear and plastic chairs to the door. Mandy opened it and let the kids out first, but realized she had forgotten her keys. She called out to the kids to wait for her, and then went to find them. When she came outside with the keys, the first thing she saw was Aidan and Brianna standing stock still, staring at something.

  She turned her head to see what they were looking at and then froze. All up and down her quiet street, people stood around their cars or sat in them. Others had the hoods up. But they all had one thing in common: none of the vehicles were running.

  “Oh, my God,” whispered Brianna.

  Mandy shook herself free of her shock. The kids needed her to be calm, she told herself.

  “What the fu-“ Aidan started to say, but Brianna cut him off with a smack to the back of his head.

  “Grandma will kill you dead if you say that word, little boy,” Brianna told him sternly.

  “Calm down, kids,” said Mandy with as much cheer as she could muster. “I’m going to try my car.”

  She got into the brown Lincoln in her driveway and tried the key. Nothing.

  When she got out of the car, Aidan ran up to her and wrapped his arms around her.

  “How is mom going to come get us? What if all the cars broke?”

  Before she could reply, there was a tremendous noise of shattering glass at the neighbor’s house, and Mandy reflexively covered Aidan with her body as her head spun towards the noise.

  “Goddamn truck,” her neighbor Frank Malters shouted as he stood facing his F-150, fists on his hips. A tire iron protruded from the ruined windshield.

  Mandy started to push Aidan towards the house. “Come on, kids, go inside. Nothing to see here, but we’ll have to drive to the lake another time.”

  The children didn’t argue with her this time, and Mandy saw they were becoming more frightened. Neighbor Frank’s tantrum hadn’t helped the situation, either.

  With the kids playing Go Fish, Mandy calmly walked around to ensure every door and window was closed and locked tight. Then she went to the refrigerator and looked inside. All that damn food would go bad if the power stayed off. The stuff in the freezer should be fine for a few days, but anything in the fridge had to get used up or tossed out that night.

  But would the power still be off? Probably, she admitted to herself. The only thing she could think of that would kill cell phones, cars, and the power lines was a solar flare. At least, that’s what had done so in some disaster sci-fi movie her daughter had made her watch with Aidan ‘so he wouldn’t get scared’. Of course, Aidan wasn’t the one who got frightened.

  She chuckled at the memory, but then stopped—what if the power stayed off? Would she ever be able to watch a movie with Aidan again? If the power did stay off, there was no way they could stay where they were for more than a few days. She had maybe a week of canned or dried foods: Campbell’s Soup and spaghetti, mostly. Her neighborhood was full of well-off retired folks and upwardly mobile couples with few or no children yet, so no help there. Food would be scarce for the neighbors, as well. The nearest convenience store was ten blocks away, and the closest supermarket was more like twenty minutes by car.

  Yet, her daughter Cassy’s house was fifty miles away near Lancaster. It had lots of food, she knew vaguely, because her daughter was one of those crazy types that prepared for disasters of all sorts. Maybe not so crazy, she admitted. Still, it would be unsafe for a fifty-five-year-old woman and two children to travel so far, alone and on foot. And, she decided, Cassy would come for them, and would get them all safely to her own house. If not for Mandy herself, then definitely for the children—Cassy would never leave Aidan and Brianna behind, she knew.

  Mandy pulled her “memory box” out from under the bed, a small cedar chest containing all her late husband’s photos and his most cherished things.

  “Bert, I wish you were here,” she said sadly as she looked into the box of memories. She spared a moment to remember the times she had with him and fought back tears. But then she pulled herself together, and took from the box a small .38 revolver, handling it with obvious caution and distaste. She put it into her clutch bag, and then went out to play Go Fish with her grandkids.

  “So, we’re all going to stay inside for a while until your mom comes to get you,” she announced, then sat down and began dealing cards.

  - 4 -

  0800 HOURS - ZERO DAY

  BY THE LIGHT of day, Cassy looked at the two bags she had brought on this road trip to Philly, which were neatly placed on the bed. One was a suitcase containing clothes appropriate for a conference, or for after-hours business dinners. The other contained a set of rugged clothes, hiking boots, and a smaller backpack with many pouches and zippers. She pulled out the backpack and opened it, checking the inventory again even though she had already checked it right before leaving the house.

  Some water, an MRE, a tarp, paracord, a Mora knife, a small .38 revolver, and two speed-loaders. She had 18 rounds, total. She used to have a larger pistol in her “get home bag”, but with the water, weight was an issue.

  There was also a small sealed tin with cotton balls soaked in Vaseline for starting fires, a bic lighter, and a little first-aid kit. A spare pair of socks and three cotton bandanas. The flashlight worked. Rounding out her little collection was a second tin that contained a wire saw, safety pins, fish hooks and so on, and it was neatly sealed with duct tape strips. Everything was in order.

  Cassy looked in the mirror. At thirty-three, she was not gorgeous but knew she was ‘very cute and nicely curvy’, as most people described her. She was 5’-6”, fairly fit, with brunette shoulder-length hair that was almost always in a ponytail. The “little black dress” she had on was totally impractical, so she stripped down and then put on her rugged clothes—loose-fitting brown canvas pants, thick socks, a black tee shirt, a blue flannel, a zip-up hoodie, and a heavier jacket.

  But then she felt hot. She knew she had a long way to go, so she reluctantly left the heavier jacket on the bed. She had another jacket at home, but would never get there on foot if she passed out from heat in the still-warm August daytime weather. She put on the backpack and, with a glance at all the things she was leaving behind, left the room.

  She went to Tyrel’s room and pounded on it. When he answered, she saw that he could barely stand straight, and his eyes were bloodshot. Tyrel was of average height, but slightly plump from drinking more than he should. He kept his hair in neat cornrows, usually, but this morning even those looked disheveled.

  “Hey, Casshy,” Tyrel said, slurring his words.

  Cassy felt pity for the man. He would likely die here, she thought, because he wouldn’t take this seriously until it was too late. Like so many others. “Hey, Ty—I’m heading out on foot. Want to come with me? I could use the company.”

  Ty tipped sideways into the wall, but with effort maintained his balance. Somewhat. “Ouch. Nah. Why leave? Wanna have a drink with me til the power’sh back on?”

  Cassy looked at him for a long moment, memorizing his face one last time. She doubted she would see him again in this lifetime if her suspicions were correct about what was about to happen around them, and decided she would miss his constant attempts to flirt with her. This would be goodbye. “No thanks, I’m heading out. Take care, my friend. Go round up some food and keep it in your room, okay?”

  Cassy turned and walked away without another word, fighting back tears.

  A quick trip down the stairs took her to the ornate lobby of the hotel. It was a 4-star joint, for sure, with great imported rugs and middle-grade art on all the walls. Soon it would be empty of people, she realized with a start, but for now it was somewhat full of other people milling around. She knew some of them, and the sadness grew, so she decided to slip out unnoticed. That was easier than saying goodbye, and most of them would probably be dead soon. Back straight, she walked out through the ornate doors and onto the streets of Phila
delphia.

  Cassy gasped at the scene before her. Thick, acrid, black smoke billowed into the air from a couple blocks away, and dozens of people were making their way towards the source of that smoke. She walked in that direction as well, because it was the shortest path to where she needed to go. As she got closer, the knot of fear in her stomach, which had been there since she woke in the dark, grew steadily. Ahead of her it became evident that buildings had collapsed, and she thought that must have been the cause of the overwhelming blast that had hit while she was on her balcony. She hadn’t seen it then because her room faced away from the terrible scene. Two buildings were rubble, and two more were burning. People jumped out of upper windows rather than burn alive, and then Cassy did cry.

  From bits of overheard conversation as she hurried past the scene, she learned that a passenger jet had crashed. Some said another had crashed as well, to the east. “Just fell out of the sky. Good thing it was so early, or more planes would have been up there to hijack,” said a middle-aged office worker to a man in a suit as Cassy walked by. By the time she got past the devastation, real fear gripped her heart and she mourned the hundreds of people in those falling planes, though she didn’t know them. She felt the tragedy of it all, and knew more terrible things were on the way.

  She considered joining the rescue effort going on, led by everyday people stepping up in terrible circumstances, but she had different responsibilities. She had to get to her kids while she still could. Cassy continued on, heading north towards the city limits. It was miles away, but if she could clear Philly before the panic and looting began in earnest, she had a good chance. “Get ahead of the mob,” she muttered.

  She saw more people at every store she passed. There was a fight over the last can of something, but Cassy didn’t stay to watch. She avoided the crowds of people stripping the stores bare by getting onto the next onramp onto I-76, which cut the city in half north-to-south, and the going was easier. She didn’t see any people in the jammed-up dead cars; they must have already left in the hours since the blackout began. Somewhere far behind, she heard two popping noises; someone was shooting back there. She hadn’t thought violence would begin so quickly when she was considering various “prepper scenarios”, but at least those were the only shots she heard so far.

  * * *

  Cassy looked off into the distance to the west and north, the way she had to go. Suburban sprawl lay as far as she could see, and a sense of despair came over her. “Shit. How will I get through all that,” she cried out, and realized she had spoken aloud. She stopped to clear her head, taking deep breaths until her anger and hopelessness had lessened. She then looked around with more care. The freeway she was on was not completely clear, but there weren’t as many people as there were on the streets below. Also, the freeway had concrete barriers running along both sides and down the middle. If she stayed close to the barriers dividing the two halves of the freeway, perhaps people who were off the roadway wouldn’t see her, and the middle divider would give her some protection from everyone else. Not for the first time, she wished she’d been able to take a class on search and evasion techniques, but money was short since her husband died and the Great Recession had hit.

  Cassy thought it over out loud. “So, fewer people and good cover, or more people to blend in with, but more possible threats and less cover.” She decided to stay with more cover on the Interstate.

  By noon she had almost reached the outskirts of the city, and only then did she relax a little. Urban sprawl still lay to the west, but the north showed more trees than buildings. She walked onward and prayed the freeway was the right choice.

  An hour later, Philadelphia was behind her. She stopped to take a drink of water and a couple bites of the so-called “fruitcake” that came in her one MRE. The fruitcake was terrible and tough as leather, but packed with carbs and calories and could be just gnawed upon while traveling. She was hungry but had to make the MRE last.

  Also, she needed to rest her legs. By Cassy’s calculations, based on her pace count—she knew how many steps it took her to go 100 yards on level ground—she had walked roughly 12 miles in about five hours, and she was exhausted. What was supposed to be a short water break got longer and longer—her legs had cramped up and felt like rubber, and her new rugged hiking boots had given her one hell of a cluster of blisters. Goddamn new shoes, she should have broken them in before she needed them... Lesson learned.

  Five hours to travel 12 miles was nothing to an athlete, but Cassy was in her early 30s and spent more time commuting to meetings than she did on physical conditioning. She was rather glad she had taken to gardening and raising animals at her home north of Lancaster, giving her some regular physical activity. A year before that, she had been in even worse physical shape.

  She tried standing, but her legs just wouldn’t obey, so instead she sat and massaged the muscles, resting. Maybe she should camp out here for the night despite having plenty of daylight left, she considered. She had a long way to go and it would take longer if she hurt herself overdoing things. Her thoughts drifted off to her children, and what horrors the future might hold for them all.

  - 5 -

  1430 HOURS - ZERO DAY

  THE RUMBLE OF an engine echoed along the freeway. Cassy opened her eyes and was disoriented. The sun was definitely not where it had been, and she realized she had fallen asleep. What an idiot, she thought, realizing she was out in the open. She looked around for the source of the noise and saw an old red classic Camaro coming up fast. Before she had time to consider her options, it swerved and began to slow. Whoever was inside had seen her, and now it was too late to go for the pistol in her get-home bag, without being seen doing it. She could only hope the driver was friendly.

  The Camaro glided to a stop some twenty feet from Cassy and then did nothing for nearly a minute. She couldn’t see through the thick tinting of the windshield to see the driver, but the car was a thing of beauty. Perfectly maintained. “Cherry.”

  Cassy inched her way towards the center divider, ready to leap over the concrete wall if necessary, but then what? Her bag was out of reach, and if she went for it the car’s occupant—or occupants—might react aggressively. She didn’t know what to do, so she stood still and waited, alert.

  The driver’s door opened. Out stepped a man of average height, but muscled. Not like a bodybuilder, but he definitely worked out or worked hard. He had close-cropped black hair and a short goatee, and wore simple jeans and a white tee shirt, with black boots. His face was sharp and angular, and he might have been Italian or Puerto Rican, or just well-tanned.

  “So, um...” began the man. “Well, I’m driving the way you’re walking, if you want a lift. I’m James. Friends call me Jim.”

  “Hey. I’m Cassandra,” she replied. “How can your car be running?”

  The man laughed, and Cassy thought he sounded good-natured. “It’s old—no electronics. Everything with a chip is busted, right? But no chips in this old beauty.”

  “Huh. Old-school muscle still works,” said Cassy. “So, what brings you out of Philly?”

  “Well, shit’s already getting crazy in there. It’s been about twelve hours since the lights went out, and the stores are already mostly empty. Idiots are barbecuing in the streets, thinking this is just a day off work. Try telling them a simple blackout doesn’t kill cellphones and cars, and they look at you like you’re an idiot or a conspiracy nut.”

  “So, where are you headed?” Cassy asked.

  “Back home. My house is in the town of King of Prussia, maybe ten miles from here along the 76. If you want a ride, I can take you that far. Get you away from the nuthouse Philly is becoming. Besides, it’s a nice day for a drive, right, honey?”

  Cassy had to think about his offer. Who knew how fast the crazies would come off their leashes with the grid down, and was this guy one of them? Until the grid was back up she wouldn’t be able to call 911 if things went sour, nor were the police just driving around patrolling anym
ore. If this guy turned bad, she’d surely be on her own. Cassy saw that he wasn’t dressed as well as most people she’d met from King of Prussia, but his car probably had cost so much to refurbish that he could be a resident of that well-off town.

  But she was exhausted and her legs were still rubber, so she desperately wanted that ride. Something didn’t quite feel right, an itch of warning in the back of her mind, but Cassy dismissed the feeling and chalked it up to exhaustion and panic, and from having watched too many horror movies. After all, he did seem nice enough.

  “Yeah, alright, as long as you’re going that way anyway I’d love a ride. Thanks a bunch, Jim. You’re alright.”

  Cassy grabbed her bag and got in, and they drove off. The going was slow because of all the dead cars on the road, but, fortunately, most were on the other side of the freeway having been driven towards Philadelphia. The only people they saw were on the other side, too, walking towards the city. Even so, they had to stop several times to move cars out of the way, and at one point an overturned semi blocked the road. They had no way to move it, so they had backtracked to a turnabout and continued on the other side of the road for a while until they reached the next turnabout.

  It had taken them about an hour to go five miles, but at least she was off her feet except to help move cars out of the way. Exhausted, she found herself drifting to sleep on an open stretch.

  She came to full alertness when the car stopped and went silent. Opening her eyes, she looked around and saw no cars, yet they were stopped in the middle of the road, engine off. She looked at Jim with concern. “What’s going on, more cars to move?”

  “Nope, I’m out of gas. I have to grab my gas can and go siphon some off one of those cars back there, but it’s about four O’clock and I don’t want to get caught out here in the dark. No street lamps will be working. You can walk on if you want, or we can camp out here until morning, go get gas and keep going. But I think I’d end up catching up to you about the time you pass my town anyway.”