The Alex Cave Series. Books 1, 2, & 3.: Box set

by James M. Corkill

  Christa took a few seconds to catch her breath, then grabbed Judy under the arms and dragged her to the opening. She jumped out, grabbed Judy, and dragged her through the doorway. Judy’s feet dropped to the ground with a thud, and Christa thought she heard Judy groan. She gently laid her down on the ground and started to climb back into the airplane.

  Marcia was already climbing out of her seat. “I’m okay. You’d better get Judy farther away from the plane.”

  “You sure you can manage?”

  Marcia nodded. “Just hurry.”

  Christa looked around for a moment. The plane had stopped about one-hundred-feet into the fir trees, at the edge of a small, grassy clearing. When she saw the ground littered with broken branches and toppled trees, she realized she’d have to carry Judy to the clearing. She remembered watching a documentary on firefighters rescuing victims. She straddled Judy’s legs, grabbed her wrists, and pulled. Judy’s limp body bent in half at the waist, and Christa had to waddle back a few feet. She pulled on Judy’s wrists again, but only managed to get Judy’s butt a few inches off the ground before letting her plop back down.

  “Damn!” Christa swore in frustration, taking a couple of deep breaths. “I can do it! I can do it!” she growled, and gripped Judy’s wrists as tight as she could. She pulled with all her might, leaning back for leverage, and Judy’s body slowly began to rise. Christa bent down to catch her, and staggered backward as Judy’s weight fell onto her shoulder. Grunting with the effort, Christa stood. “Damn!” she grunted through clinched teeth, and began walking towards the clearing, barely keeping Judy balanced as she staggered over branches and tree trunks.

  As Marcia stood, she suddenly felt lightheaded. She clung to the chair backs for support as everything around her began spinning. She had to wait several moments before the sensation stopped, and took two faltering steps forward. The dizziness returned full force, and she felt as though she was looking down a long dark tunnel, the darkness closing in around her. She felt herself falling forward, but was helpless to stop it, and then the dark tunnel seemed to collapse as she toppled forward in front of the doorway.

  Christa staggered into the clearing, her breath coming in deep gasps. She wanted Judy’s weight off her very much, but continued across the clearing. She continued for what felt like hundreds of yards until she reached the trees on the far side. She managed to get a few yards into the woods, then her legs gave out and she and Judy tumbled to the ground.

  Christa lay there for several minutes, pinned to the ground from the waist up by Judy’s body, her breath coming in ragged gasps, struggling to draw air into her lungs because of Judy’s weight, but she was too exhausted to shove Judy off her chest.

  Christa wasn’t sure how long she lay there before she heard Judy moan. Judy’s face was turned toward her, and Christa watched her eyes slowly open. She looked dazed for a few moments and blinked several times.

  Judy’s eyes slowly cleared and she recognized the face beneath her. “Christa?” she asked groggily. “What are you doing down there?” Judy tried to push herself up, but her arms collapsed. With Christa’s help, she managed to roll to the side. “What happened?”

  “Shush!” Christa demanded when she heard a man’s voice yelling orders. She turned her head toward the wrecked plane, and saw a dozen men running through the trees, pointing rifles at the fuselage. The man’s voice was clear and demanding, even across the clearing. Christa suddenly remembered Marcia. “Oh God!” she mumbled and started to stand until she heard what the man yelled next.

  “Hold your fire!” the man’s voice barked. “I want prisoners!”

  Not knowing what to do, but filled with a sense of dread, Christa stayed down, placing a hand on Judy as a signal to do the same.

  * * *

  Chapter 22

  WASHINGTON, D.C:

  The President turned off the television, leaned back in his overstuffed chair, and stared at the ceiling. Too many meetings, he thought. Everyone was demanding something from him. His staff and advisors wanted him to make decisions, special interest groups were asking for a larger ration of fuel, and friends asking for special privileges. Too many questions. He closed his eyes and opened them at the sound of knocking on the door to his office. Another meeting, he thought dejectedly. “Come in,” he said in a voice he hoped hid the weariness he felt. He glanced at the brass-framed clock on the wall above the door. It was after seven and he realized he had dozed off.

  Martin Donner entered and closed the door behind him. “Sorry to disturb you, Sir.”

  The President noticed Martin’s wrinkled suit, the bags under his reddened eyes, the stubble of beard, and wondered if he had even left the White House over the past five days.

  “When was the last time you got some sleep?” the President asked, sincere concern in his voice. Martin smiled at him, but even that had a weary look to it.

  “I caught a few hours yesterday.”

  Bullshit, the President thought, but didn’t press it. “What’s up?”

  “First, I think we should cordon off access to the White House in a five block radius. Then set up a military command post out front, with support troops stationed on the grounds.”

  The President frowned. “Is it that bad?”

  Martin shook his head. “Not yet, but it will be.”

  The President nodded approval. “Continue.”

  “Set up road blocks around cities that will still have power. We have to try and limit the civil riots I know will eventually happen.”

  The president shook his head. “The Joint Chiefs aren’t going to like wasting our domestic reserves on civilian matters.”

  “They’ll waste more when we have to call them in to enforce Martial Law.”

  “I know. Okay. I’ll tell them.” Martin stood up to leave. “Have you received any word from Alex Cave?”

  “The women doing the research are on the way to Alaska. There’s still some crude oil there, and that’s where the experiments have to continue.” Martin shrugged in resignation. “All we can do is hope they come up with something.”

  The President leaned back in his chair. “Get some sleep, Martin.” He smiled. “That’s an order.”

  Martin smiled back, nodded assent, and left the office.

  * * *

  Chapter 23

  BOZEMAN, MONTANA:

  On the drive back to the university, Alex noticed more cars abandoned along the highway, and a man, woman, and two children walking along the road a short distance ahead. The man turned and held his thumb out for a ride, and Alex slowed as he approached. He noticed the children were mere toddlers, perhaps three and four years old, and the woman was carrying a heavy tote bag. It was still a good five miles to town, and Alex felt sympathy for them. He pulled alongside and reached over to unlock the passenger door.

  The man smiled, opened the door, and leaned down. “I sure appreciate this, mister. We’ve been walking for miles, and the kids are pooped.”

  “I can give you a ride as far as the university. It’s on the outskirts of town.”

  “That would be great. It sure beats walking.”

  The woman opened the rear door and helped the children in, while the man sat up front with Alex. When everyone was inside, Alex continued down the highway.

  The man extended his hand out to Alex. “My name is Joe Dempsey, and that’s my wife, Carol. The kids are Jessie and Marie.”

  Alex accepted the hand. “Alex Cave.”

  There were a few moments of silence before Dempsey spoke. “Things sure are a mess, aren’t they?” Alex nodded. “Can’t get any gas, can’t hardly get any food, and if you can find it, whoever’s selling it wants a fortune, I’ll tell ya.”

  “Where are you from?” Alex asked.

  “Yakima, Washington. Things got nasty, so we headed east. I’m an investment broker. I should say, I used to be an investment broker. There’s nothing to invest in anymore.”

  Alex nodded. “Did you have any trouble getting gas along
the way?”

  Dempsey nodded. “Yeah, yesterday. We couldn’t find any stations open, but we came across a man selling gas out of the back of his pickup. What a rip off, though. He had it in five-gallon cans, and wanted fifty dollars per can. It about wiped me out to fill up the tank. But what can you do? I don’t know what was mixed in with the gas, but my car didn’t run worth a damn on it. It finally just quit about ten miles back.”

  Alex saw a car coming in the opposite direction, weaving back and forth across the centerline. Dempsey noticed it too. “Damn fool must be drunk,” he said to Alex.

  As the oncoming car drew closer, it appeared as though there was no one behind the wheel. Alex also noticed the car looked familiar. It was an older model Cadillac, the same blue color as the one Marcia drove.

  The Cadillac was going very slow, and continued weaving across the centerline. When it was within one-hundred-feet, Alex could make out the license plate number. “Damn!” he swore. “That car is stolen! It belongs to a friend of mine.”

  The Cadillac drifted farther into his lane as it approached, and Alex had to pull onto the shoulder and slam on the brakes to keep from being hit. He watched it drive past and noticed the small head, barely even with the steering wheel. “It’s some kid driving that car. How the hell?” He abruptly stopped when he felt something small and cold against the back of his head. He started to turn around to see what it was.

  “Don’t move a muscle!” The woman snarled in his ear.

  Alex couldn’t believe this was happening. “What the hell’s going on?”

  Dempsey leaned forward. “Just give me your wallet and step out of the car,” he said evenly.

  Alex sighed heavily. “Look, you don’t have to do this. I’ll take you into town, and I promise I won’t say anything to the police.”

  Dempsey chuckled. “Haven’t you heard mister? The police don’t have any gas for their cars, either.” Dempsey became serious again. “Just do what I say, damn it, or I’ll have Carol blow your damn head off!” he snarled savagely.

  Alex slowly nodded. “All right, just take it easy.” He shoved the shift lever into park and reached into his back pocket for his wallet.

  “I’ve got a family to take care of, mister,” Dempsey told him. “You’ve got to understand that.”

  Alex brought his wallet out and started to open it.

  “Just set it on the seat,” Dempsey told him.

  “Take the money and the credit cards, but let me keep the rest.”

  Dempsey laughed dryly. “Credit cards ain’t worth shit, mister. Just set the wallet and your phone on the seat and get out!”

  Alex did as instructed, slipped from under the wheel and stood beside the door. Dempsey slid across the seat while Carol kept the gun aimed out the window. Dempsey slammed the door shut, shifted, and stomped on the accelerator. A cloud of dust enveloped him as Alex watched his Blazer’s tires spin in the dirt before grabbing the asphalt and heading down the road.

  My God! All that just for a car with a quarter tank of gas and a wallet with thirty dollars in it. The world has gone mad. Normally good-hearted people turning into savages, doing whatever it takes to survive. He sighed deeply, thinking perhaps this was only the beginning, and would definitely get worse before it got better. He began walking down the road.

  An hour later, Alex approached the university campus, heard several gunshots, and saw people running across the lawns. He quickened his pace until he reached the nearly deserted parking lot, and dove for the ground as someone rose above the hood of a car and pointed a pistol in his direction. A bullet ricocheted off the asphalt just past his head at the same instant he heard the explosion from the pistol. He scrambled to his feet as he looked around for some kind of cover. He made a dash for a black Camaro, twenty-feet away. Another bullet chipped the asphalt, as he dove into the broken glass on the ground beside the Camaro. Small pricks of pain erupted in his palms and one knee, but he ignored them as he rolled onto his feet and squatted beside the rear tire. “Shit!” he mumbled.

  Several moments passed without another shot fired, but he could hear people screaming in agony, and other voices shouting orders. He heard windows being shattered, and two more gunshots from far away.

  Alex slowly rose until he could see over the trunk of the Camaro. The back window lay in shattered pieces across the trunk, and he could see through the opening and the missing side windows. People were running down the street in panic. Two boys and two girls were climbing into a brown Volkswagen Van. A moment later, he heard the sputter of the engine, and watched the van race out of the parking lot.

  Alex remained squatted behind the Camaro for several minutes as he studied the rest of the parking lot. What few cars remained had shattered windows and flat tires, and he could see three people lying on the ground. After several minutes when nothing moved, he slowly stood for a better view. Five more people were lying on the grass near the administration building, and Alex could see the red stains on the light colored shirts of two of them.

  “My God,” he said as he slowly stepped around the Camaro and approached the closest person. A pool of crimson was spreading around the body, and the dull eyes stared up at nothing. He moved from body to body, occasionally kneeling to feel for a pulse.

  Alex started walking around the debris scattered over the sidewalk, toward the door of the building. He listened to the soft echo of his footsteps as he walked down the deserted hallway. As he passed the windows of the admittance office, he saw a woman draped over the counter, the wall beneath streaked with a deep red stain.

  Alex continued down the hall, stopping occasionally to look into other rooms, but he didn’t find anyone else, alive or dead.

  Near the end of the hall, Alex noticed the door to the laboratory hanging crooked. “David!” he mumbled with a deep sense of foreboding. He ran down the hall and grabbed the doorframe to stop as he entered the laboratory. It was as though a tornado had hit the room. Test tubes, flasks, and decanters lay in smashed pieces on the counters and floors. Almost all of the portable test equipment was missing, and what hadn’t been stolen had been severely damaged.

  Alex saw a tennis shoe protruding past the edge of the counter. He ran toward the shoe, slipping on fragments of glass, and found David sprawled on the floor. He knelt beside him and grabbed his wrist to feel for a pulse, as he frantically searched for a bullet wound. A deep sense of relief washed over Alex when he couldn’t find a wound, and David’s pulse was strong and regular. Alex carefully ran his hands over David’s legs and arms, searching for any other injuries, but found none. He gently turned David’s head and saw the bruise near the right eye, and the swollen knot on the side of his head.

  David suddenly moaned, and Alex gently shook his shoulder. “Can you hear me, David? It’s Alex Cave.” David’s eyes slowly opened and squinted up at him. “That’s it, pal. You’re going to be okay.” David’s eyes suddenly went wide with fear and darted back and forth around the room as he tried to sit up. “Easy, David, it’s all right. Nobody’s going to hurt you.”

  David focused on Alex’s face and slowly relaxed. “Damn, my head hurts,” he moaned and lay back down.

  “You’ve got a nasty bump on the head. Just lay still for a moment, all right?” David nodded slightly. “Can you tell me what happened?”

  David looked as though he was having a hard time concentrating. “I, ah . . . I’m not exactly sure. I heard a lot of people yelling and a couple of gunshots. I, ah . . . I went to the door and saw people running down the hall. I don’t know why they were running like that. Everyone seemed to be crazy. Pushing and shoving each other. Some of them were carrying typewriters, computers, and other stuff. I remember someone shoving me back into the room, and then it seemed like a hundred people were coming through the door. They started grabbing things. I remember I wanted to stop them, but that’s all I can remember.”

  “Just lay here and take it easy,” Alex told him.

  David shook his head adamantly. “No. I�
�m all right. Just help me stand up.”

  Alex grabbed his arm and they stood. “Come on. I need to find a phone.”

  David nodded and walked toward the door. “What happened to your cellphone?”

  “I was car-jacked on the way here. It’s gotten crazy out there.” Alex explained what he had heard on the news, what Donner had told him, and what happened on the way back from the airport. “I’m just glad our women got out of here safely.”

  Alex stopped at the administrator’s office door. “You might want to stay out here,” he said to David. “Homely’s been shot.”

  David nodded, and Alex opened the door and stepped inside. David couldn’t resist the urge to look, and was amazed the sight didn’t seem to bother him. He followed Alex into the room.

  Alex turned when he heard footsteps behind him, and was surprised to see David looking around the room in a nonchalant manner. The kid’s tougher than I realized, he thought, and picked up the phone. He heard a dial tone, and dialed the number for retrieving voice messages from his cellphone service.

  “This is Bob Fisher, from the Federal Aviation Administration office at the airport. Your phone number was on the flight plan for a Cessna, number Sierra November Alpha 3492. I, ah, I wanted to inform you the flight had some mechanical problem and was going to return to the airport. That was about two hours ago, and we haven’t heard from them since. Please give me a call at this number.”

  “Damn!” Alex swore as he pressed the clear button and dialed again.

  David heard him, and saw the troubled expression on his face. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m not positive yet. Hold on a minute,” he said as Fisher came on the line. “This is Alex Cave. Have you heard anything from the Cessna?”

  Fisher could hear the anxiety in Alex’s voice. “No, I’m sorry, Mr. Cave. The last word we received was they were somewhere over Idaho. Are you related to the pilot?”

  “No. She’s just a good friend. Do you know if they crashed, or made an emergency landing somewhere else?”