The Next World - RESISTANCE - Book 2 (A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller)

by Jeff Olah

  “How about I go check the apartments on the fifth floor? There has to be something left in this building. Maybe we get something to eat tonight?” Her grandmother would pick up on what she was doing and would certainly try to come back to the conversation. Although if anything could distract the seventy-three-year-old, food would be first on the list.

  Cookie managed a thin smile. “I thought we decided that you weren’t going up there anymore?”

  “We have to eat.”

  “Yes sweetheart, but two days ago you said that it wasn’t safe to go past the fourth floor. You said that those things had completely taken over. You told me that we’d be better off staying down here. What’s changed, why is it different now?”

  “You’re right Grandma, but I was able to clear the hallway out there and on the fourth floor without any help. I also made sure to leave myself a way out. I can do the same thing on some of the other floors as well. If I go now, there’s a good chance we get to eat tonight.”

  Her grandmother looked back toward the door. She appeared to be either searching for a counterpoint or contemplating what Harper had said, or maybe both. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to just let those people help us? I mean how bad could they be? They have children over there. We have to try to trust someone, at some point. I know you’re scared—and so am I—but I think we need to try.”

  Right back to where they started; even the thought of food wasn’t enough of a distraction.

  “You’re right, but for now we need to find something to eat. We need to—”

  “We can’t do this all alone Harper, we need help … you need help. And that family—those people at the end of the block—they could help. You said you had a plan to contact them, so why don’t you try that first?”

  Harper didn’t like it, but knew it was probably their best chance at surviving out here. And given what she’d seen over the last three days, those people were also going to need her help. They just didn’t know it yet.

  She leaned in over her grandmother and kissed her on the forehead. “Okay, tomorrow morning, I’ll go back over there and give it one more try.”

  8

  Owen slid his chair back away from the table and eyed his wife. He’d managed to avoid her questions for the better part of the day and had kept the conversation at dinner focused on the deal she’d made with Lucas. He had Noah laughing and was successful at completely embarrassing Ava on more than one occasion. But as Natalie reached for her plate and motioned toward the kitchen, he knew it was time.

  Without missing a beat, Owen dropped half of a tortilla on the floor next to the table, waited for Zeus to pick it up, and then turned to Kevin. “Give us a few?”

  Kevin swallowed what he was chewing and gave a thumbs-up. “Sure thing, I’ll check the gates and the rear lot when you get back.”

  Owen followed Natalie into the kitchen, where she hopped onto the prep counter and leaned against the backsplash. She took a moment to look him over, before focusing on his hands and the bruises that were now a deep shade of purple.

  “So,” she said, folding her arms into her chest, “you want to tell me about it?”

  Owen matched her posture, knew he’d have to keep this one close to the vest. While the method his friend had used was a bit questionable, the result had been undeniable. And in the hours since their tussle, he had begun to forget about his own issues and focus on what it would mean to his family if he were no longer around.

  “Not really.”

  “Not really, what do you mean not really?”

  “It was just two guys working through a few things, nothing for you to worry about. He and I are fine.”

  Natalie sat forward, resting her arms on the stainless steel ledge. “What is it you think I’m asking about?”

  “Uh …”

  “You actually think I have any interest in the idiotic fight the two of you had out front this morning? Come on Owen, you know me better than that.”

  He was a bit confused. For the last seven hours he had been avoiding her in hopes that he wouldn’t have to explain why she had to see him using Kevin’s face as a punching bag.

  “Okay?”

  “You men really aren’t all that bright are you?”

  Owen fought back a grin. He was now a step behind on what she wanted and needed to stay in the moment. “Then what, why are we in this kitchen even having this conversation?”

  “I’ll give you one guess, and it has to do with your daughter having to see you open the gate and chase after that woman.”

  He could feel his face start to turn bright pink and the rush of endorphins flood his bloodstream. “So, Kevin told you about her?”

  “It doesn’t matter what he told me, what matters is what you did … and why on earth you did it. And if it’s what I’m thinking, if it’s the same excuse it always is, then you were probably right to have stayed clear of me today.”

  Owen didn’t answer; instead he turned his eyes to the floor and shoved his hands into his pockets.

  “This can’t keep happening, you have to get a handle on it somehow. Two weeks ago, your issues were something you could hide from the world, but not anymore. Your daughter thought that you were dead. And when she came to tell me, Noah was right there.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “That isn’t going to work anymore, I need something else, something more. We all do. Me, the kids, that teenage boy out there, and even your new friend, the one you seem to have some sort of love-hate relationship with.”

  Now he actually smiled. “Yeah, we worked it out.”

  Natalie slid down from the counter and met his eyes. “I don’t care about whatever it was that you and Kevin were doing out there.”

  “No, that’s what I’m telling you. He gave me the same speech, well almost. His was a little more colorful, but he got through, he really did.”

  “And?”

  “And, well, I know what I have to do. What I should’ve been doing all along, what should have come more naturally.”

  Natalie narrow her eyes. “So just like that you’ve got it under control, even without your meds?”

  “You noticed?”

  “You ran out two days ago, right?”

  “Three?”

  “Wow.” Natalie took a step toward him. “You going to be able to manage this on your own?”

  Owen looked back toward the dining room. “My new friend gave me a few redirection techniques. I’ve got some perspective that I didn’t have before.”

  “Okay, just make sure to ask for help if you need it. I don’t like having to explain to your children why you do some of the things you do. They’re going through enough already.”

  “I agree.”

  Natalie reached for his hand and pulled him into her. She kissed the side of his face and then his neck, down toward his chest. “And for me. Don’t ever do that again. You piss me off nearly every single day, but you know I can’t do this by myself.”

  Owen leaned away, but continued to hold her hands as he started toward the doors to the dining room. “I promise.”

  “Where are you going?”

  Owen stopped. “Back?”

  She stood on her toes and kissed him again. “We still haven’t talked about leaving.”

  “Not now Nat.”

  “Owen, you know what we have to do. You agreed that it was what we needed to do.”

  He’d almost already forgotten and wished she would have too. The conversation they’d had nearly every single morning since arriving had grown uglier by the day. He knew her reasons—she’d nearly had him convinced more than once—but before today, he didn’t think he was ready, didn’t think he could do what needed to be done.

  But now, maybe he was.

  “When?”

  Natalie took in a quick breath, as if caught off guard. “Wait, are you actually—”

  “I’m not sure, but I’m willing to talk about it. I know how important it is, but want to make sure we’ve thought it throu
gh first.”

  “Really, you’re good with it?”

  He wasn’t, not completely. But he knew he needed to be. For her and for the others. She’d told him that there was a possibility that they could fix this world, and he was going to do what needed to be done to make that happen. He made his wife a promise the morning after they arrived here and for once he was going to stick to his word.

  “Yeah, let’s go find Dr. Gentry.”

  Natalie moved back to him and threw her arms over his shoulders. “Okay, but there is a chance that—”

  The sound of a distant gunshot and the shattering of glass pulled them apart. Owen backed toward the wall and then sliding her in behind him, started for the main room.

  9

  Owen was first through the door with Natalie right on his heels. He was a bit disoriented as he moved through the darkened dining room. He looked toward the table where he’d left his children only to find four empty plates and an overturned Styrofoam cup.

  “Owen.” Kevin’s voice came from behind the table. His friend was there, but crouched on the ground with Ava, Noah, and Lucas. “Get down.”

  He reached back for Natalie’s hand and pulled her toward him, now staying low and moving quickly from one table to the next. “I think we’re fine, same as two nights ago.”

  “I don’t think so Owen, that one hit us.”

  She was probably right to be worried, but keeping with his new motto—assess first and don’t overreact—he needed a few more details. And so far, there hadn’t been a second shot.

  As he rounded the last table, his attention was pulled to the right. Zeus sat just inside the doors, now low to the floor, his eyes locked on the windows along the third floor.

  Now on his hands and knees, Owen crawled the last several feet, slid in between his son and Kevin, and pulled Natalie into his left side. To Kevin, he motioned toward the shattered window thirty feet above. “Accident?”

  Kevin rustled Noah’s hair, offered him a slight grin, and then turned back to Owen. “It’s possible, but I need to get up there, have a look.”

  “I agree,” Owen said, “let’s go.” And turning to Natalie, he motioned toward his children. “Take them back to the kitchen.”

  Even as Owen’s voice was fading through the darkened interior, Kevin was already moving away from the table. He crawled quickly to the stairs, retrieved his rifle, and offered Owen a pair of night vision binoculars. “These should do.”

  Out from the third floor and onto the roof, Owen sat behind the hatch and focused the binoculars. It took a few seconds to reacquaint himself with the muted tones beyond the lens, but when he did, the city quickly came into view. A few spot fires dotted the horizon, but there didn’t seem to be much of anything else.

  “You getting anything?”

  Kevin had the rifle’s scope pulled into his right eye, but looked odd holding the weapon. It didn’t seem to fit. And although it wasn’t the first time Owen had seen his friend shoulder this specific fireman, it had yet to be fired. Not a single round.

  “No,” Kevin said, “you?”

  Owen scanned the roofline across the street and then started to move back to the next block. “Not a damn thing, I think it might have just been another stray.”

  “Yeah, probably. But …”

  “But what?”

  “You ever have that feeling, you know, like something is just off. Like there’s something you should see, but you don’t?”

  Owen smiled, had to hold back a laugh. “You’re kidding right? You do remember who you’re talking to. That’s my normal. If I wasn’t feeling that way every single second of every day, then I would think that something was really wrong.”

  Kevin pulled his eye from the scope, dropped his chin, and let out a stilted chuckle. “Yeah, I’m sorry. That must suck.”

  Owen moved his line of sight to the south, toward the high-rises along Sixth Street. Focusing again on the rooftops, he took in a slow breath. “More than you know, but hey, it isn’t all bad … wait … wait, wait, wait, wait.”

  “What, you got something?”

  “I don’t know, check the west end of Sixth, two blocks from the freeway. The big building.”

  Kevin pushed the night vision scope back into his eye. “Yeah?”

  “The left side of the roof. I think we got someone. I know it’s far off, but with the right weapon …”

  “Uh …”

  “You see it?”

  “Give me a second.”

  “Yeah, near the corner.”

  “Yep, we got someone.” Kevin’s voice was lower, but his words were quicker. “It looks like more than one, maybe three, maybe four. Owen, you getting this?”

  He was trying to push down the thoughts of what this meant, but also tried to remind himself to stay in the moment. To not overthink the situation or let his mind wander beyond the next decision. “It’s a bit hazy, but yeah, it looks like more than a couple.”

  Kevin dropped to his stomach and began to low-crawl toward the northern edge of the roof. “I want a better look.”

  Owen followed, gripping the binoculars and staying low. “You think from that far away we were really their target?”

  Still on his stomach and with the scope again backed into his right eye, Kevin paused a moment before responding. “Hard to say from this distance, but they don’t seem to be focused on this part of town. It could have been them or it could have been anyone. No real way to know for sure.”

  Owen steadied the binoculars, felt the need to squint. “You seeing the two on the right? It looks like they’re watching the street.”

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s hard to tell from here, but have they glanced this way, even once?”

  “Doesn’t look like it, maybe we’ve got the wrong guys?”

  He liked being able to check off that box, eliminate the possibility that there were three or more men taking pot shots at the building he and his family had called home for the last several days. He also liked the idea that he wasn’t staring across the city toward a potential threat. But with that revelation—with that box being checked—came an entirely new set of questions.

  Questions he figured he wasn’t ready to ask or find the answers to.

  Owen held the binoculars out away from his face. “Yeah, it was probably someone else.” He didn’t like lying to his friend, but couldn’t see the point in telling him about what else he’d seen … or hadn’t seen, he still wasn’t completely sure.

  Kevin rolled to his side and got back to his knees. “Okay then, now what?”

  “Now we wait, maybe get a better look at this in the morning. Give it some perspective.” Owen started back toward the hatch, the dark images in his mind threatening to pull him down. “For now I’ll let Nat know what’s going on, then take another quick lap around the perimeter.”

  10

  Jerome Declan stood at the door and although he wasn’t particularly happy about being awake at this time of night, he smiled. The four men on the roof we’re probably no closer to accomplishing what he’d asked; however, it now appeared as though they weren’t going to run like all the others, and that at least for now, they were attempting to do what he’d asked.

  Hopefully.

  Through the door and out onto the roof, Declan straightened his jacket and folded his arms across his chest. He’d always hated the chill that winter brought, and imagined it had to be at least twenty degrees cooler than the previous night.

  He increased his pace, blew into his hands, and moved quickly toward the southwest corner. As he approached, the four men dressed in black fatigues, turned to face him. “Please tell me there’s a reason why one of you decided to discharge your weapon.”

  A tall man standing behind the others looked like he was about to speak, but then didn’t. He’d been with BXF for less than a month when the world went all to hell, and if Declan remembered correctly, the twenty-two-year-old was a former college basketball star. The others had called him Tom
my, but Declan always preferred to use the boy’s given name.

  “Thomas Jefferson, is there something you wanted to say?”

  The others turned to look back as their much taller friend now blinked nervously, a twitch appearing below his right eye. He swallowed hard and paused for a moment, now shifting his weight from one leg to the other. “Uh … we were trying … uh … we think the woman might be … uh.”

  Declan ran his hand over his face. While it was semi-amusing to watch, he was much too cold and much too tired to play this game. “Thomas, get yourself together.”

  The tall young man nodded. “I’m sorry, but I know Goodwin—”

  “Yes, Marcus Goodwin is coming back two days from now and he’ll be expecting to see Dr. Gentry sitting in that suite downstairs.” Declan now turned and looked out over the city. “It’s really simple … if we don’t get this done, we’re on our own. He flies off in that hideous looking helicopter and we get thrown out into the streets.”

  Kirk stepped forward and handed Declan the rifle. “Have a look.”

  Declan stepped forward, got just close enough where it was uncomfortable. “At what exactly?”

  “You’ll be able to see that building, where Mercer and her family are staying. You’ll also be able to see the giant horde moving in that direction.”

  Declan grabbed the weapon and started for the roofline. “Yes?”

  Kirk moved with him, pointed toward the south end of the city. “You asked me to find a way around the crowds, you asked me to find a way to get to that woman and her family. Well, now you’re going to see exactly why that would be impossible.”

  Declan moved the scope to his eye, but then quickly pulled it away and turned to the others. “Impossible?”

  Kirk began to nod. “Mostly.”

  He leaned into the parapet, pulled the scope into his eye, and within a few seconds, found the building and the crowds Kirk was referencing to. He fought the urge to curse, and instead focused his attention on the movement near the end of Sixth Street. “There must be something else?”