by T A Williams
Into The Dark
After The Event Book 4
T.A. Williams
Copyright ©2015 T.A. Williams
All rights reserved by the author. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted by any means without the written consent of the author
To My Family
For understanding that sometimes daddy has to lock himself in his office for hours at a time, and that sometimes daddy walks around in circles talking about things that haven’t happened or people that don’t exist. Thank you for not having me committed.
Ben
The first thing he noticed was the smell of smoke. It filled his nostrils and made its way down his throat, burning all the way. The second thing he noticed was the pain. It seemed to come from everywhere at once. His back felt like it was on fire, his head pounded in rhythm with his heart, and it felt like there were a million needles in his right shoulder trying to dig their way up through his skin. Ben didn’t think it could get any worse until he tried to move. A sharp stabbing pain shot through his lower back. Ben tried to scream but the smoke had dried out his throat and all that came out were a series of coughs that caused the pain in his back to intensify.
Ben laid there with his eyes closed until the pain died back down to a constant throbbing. He opened his eyes. In the morning sky he could see the rotor of the helicopter hanging in the trees above him, behind it was the dark stain of smoke rising in the sky. His mind moved slowly through the pain and he tried to remember what had happened. He remembered being in a helicopter and waking up to alarms, seeing the missile coming towards them from the ground, then everything going black.
A scream pierced the air a few yards from him, helping to clear Ben’s mind. Carefully he lifted his head and had to fight the urge to puke as his neck tightened up and shot pain down his shoulder blades. When he finally managed to get his head up a few feet he saw half of the cabin of the helicopter sitting a few yards away with flames all over it. There was a shape inside the helicopter twisting in agony as the fire crawled all over it.
That was the source of the screams.
Ben tried to push himself up but the pain was too much, and the most he could do was to get to his knees. By then, the screaming had stopped. The pain numbing his mind to the horror of what had just happened, he sat there staring at the flames. The snap of a twig turned his attention to the far side where there was more wreckage from the helicopter. The shape of a person moved toward him. Unable to do anything else, Ben sat there and waited. Zima stepped out from the other side of the wreckage. The man limped heavily and the entire right side of his face was covered in blood, but he was alive.
“Mason,” Ben muttered. Mason had been in the helicopter, he had been sitting right next to him. Ben looked around as quickly as he could force his body to, but the man was nowhere to be seen.
Zima fell down to his knees right next to him. The man’s pupils were wide and his body swayed from side to side but he still gave Ben a wink with his good eye. “You good?”
“Yeah.” Ben answered, not sure if he was telling the truth or not. “Mason.”
Zima’s eyes focused briefly and he glanced about as well. “He wasn’t over there.”
“There was someone in there.” Ben said, motioning to the burning wreckage of the helicopter.
“No.” Zima whispered to himself. He put his hand on the ground to steady himself then got to his feet. He stumbled over towards the flames and tried to peer into the wreckage.
A new odor had combined with the smell of smoke, that of burning meat. When this finally registered in Ben’s mind he fell over and emptied his stomach. His mind was beginning to clear but it still felt like his thoughts were trying to move through mud. He laid there for what he thought were only a few seconds but when he got back to his knees Zima was no longer by the flaming wreckage. Zima had moved to the far side of the clearing and was standing there motioning for Ben to come over.
Ben placed his left hand on the ground to help brace himself and lifted his right leg up. He sat there for a moment and then dug deep and pushed himself up. He stood there wobbling until he felt steady enough to take a few steps. Each one shot pain down his back, but after four or five steps the pain lessened slightly. His right arm hung lifelessly at his side. The throbbing pain emanating from that shoulder being the only thing reminding him it was still there. Ben gradually made his way over to Zima who was now bent over looking at something. As Ben got close enough he recognized the shape of a man. A few steps later the person’s face came into view.
It was Mason.
Dirt and grime covered most of Mason’s face but Ben would recognize him anywhere. His shirt was red with blood and his right arm bent at an awkward angle, but Ben could make out the man’s chest rising and falling.
He was alive.
Zima lifted Mason’s shirt and Ben caught sight of a gruesome gash that ran from his right shoulder diagonally to his left side just above his rib cage. The wound was still bleeding but it didn’t look deep.
“I’ll check this out,” Zima said over his shoulder. “You check the rest of the clearing. See if anyone else made it.”
Ben walked the clearing and came upon one more person. The young soldier didn’t have a single drop of blood on his face. When Ben first saw him a large bush was blocking most of his view, leading him to believe the man might be alive. The bush wasn’t blocking anything. All that remained of the soldier was his torso. The rest of him was nowhere to be seen. It didn’t seem real. How could it have been real? Ben turned around and checked the last of the clearing but didn’t find anyone else. When he returned Zima looked at his face and didn’t ask. He already knew the answer.
“He’s safe to transport. We need to get to a safe place.” Zima said, wiping sweat from his face. “Chances are whoever shot us down will be on their way.” The man handed him a large gym bag. “Grab whatever supplies you can find; guns; ammo; and food.”
Ben found three working assault rifles and threw them in the bag, along with a couple MRE’s that were scattered about. By the time that Zima called to him again he had only been able to find two extra magazines.
Zima had managed to fashion a stretcher from some of the extra clothes lying about and some large tree branches. Within minutes he was dragging the stretcher with the unconscious man on top of it through the field and onto the empty suburban street. Ben stopped at the edge of the clearing and looked back to the remains of the fallen helicopter. The flames had died down but still gave off a red glow.
Zima stopped where he was. “What is it?” Zima asked.
“All those people….everyone who was with us…” Ben started.
“I know.” Zima said and once again began to drag Mason down the street.
There was nothing else to be said so Ben turned and followed him. They made their way down the suburban street past multiple houses. Zima led him deeper and deeper until suddenly he turned and went to a random house with a garage door partially open. Zima closed the garage door behind Ben. Finding the interior door open, Zima dragged Mason into the ransacked living room.
“Alright, you hurt?” Zima asked Ben as he looked over Mason again.
“No,” Ben tried to lift his right arm again but the only response he got was a surge of pain. “Actually I can’t move my arm.”
Zima looked up at him and his eyes focused. “Your right arm?”
Ben nodded.
Zima got up and placed his hand gently on Ben’s right shoulder. Even with the light touch Ben winced in pain. “Your right shoulder is separated. It’s an easy fix.” Before Ben could say anything Zima had sat him down and was standing over him with Ben’s
right arm in his grip. “Alright I want you to hold your shoulder as still as possible, ok?”
Ben started to say yes when Zima pulled his right arm suddenly, then everything went white with pain. Ben heard himself scream out but just as quickly as the pain came, it went. His right arm, which had been unresponsive and nothing more than a source of pain, began to tingle and feeling returned to it. A dull pain still radiated from his right shoulder but outside of that it felt normal. Before he could feel thankful he realized he had just screamed out loud. Embarrassed he looked to Zima who returned his gaze without a lick of judgment.
“Hurts like a bitch, I know. Didn’t want to say anything since you were about to find out anyway.”
“Thanks, I guess.” Ben said.
Mason stirred behind them and let out a groan. They both went to his side.
“His right arm is broken, going to have to set that,” Zima said more to himself. “The gash on his chest doesn’t look bad, just need to clean it so it doesn’t get infected.” He lifted Mason’s shirt and pointed to a large red bruise on the man’s right side. “Looks like he might have some broken ribs. I’ll keep a close eye on that but he should be good.”
“Then what?” Ben asked.
A look of exhaustion covered Zima’s face. “For tonight we need to keep watch. Whoever shot us down will probably come searching for possible survivors. After that,” he paused and ran his hand over his face. “After that we need to get our bearings and find Command.” Zima picked up one of the guns, checked the magazine and handed it to Ben. “Go upstairs to the window, if you see someone approaching let me know. If you don’t have time, and they are obviously not American, then open fire and I’ll follow. Okay?”
Ben took the gun from him gingerly and shook his head.
“You got this.” Zima looked down at Mason. “I’m going to set his arm so it might get a little noisy down here.”
He was right. Ben was staring out the dusty window at the empty street when he heard Mason’s screams echoing through the abandoned house. It lasted less than a minute and then the house went quiet again. It wasn’t long after that Zima came stomping up the steps and collapsed near him.
“Anything?” Zima asked.
“It’s quiet.”
“Hopefully it stays that way.” Zima pushed himself up and peered out the window. “We have a clear view across the street from here. I have a few candles in my pack. When it gets dark I’m going to try something.”
Night came quick, and when it did Zima ran across the street to a nearby house. Within minutes the glow of a single candle appeared in the house’s window and Zima came jogging out still with a slight limp. When the man finally returned, slightly out of breath, he again collapsed next to Ben.
Ben game him a questioning look.
“Stay alert,” was all Zima said.
As the night drug on his muscles tightened, his shoulder ached and he gradually began to feel like an old man. Every bump and bruise he had suffered from the helicopter crash decided to start speaking up all at once. Despite all this, at some point in time Ben fell asleep. He was awakened by a gentle tap on his shoulder. He opened his eyes and Zima was above him peering out the window.
“Stay cool, but we have company.”
Ben pushed through the dull aches of pains and got to his knees and followed Zima’s gaze through the window. At first he saw nothing, then he caught the movement fifty yards from the neighboring house. Three figures, all crouched down, moved slowly from object to object, their focus point the house with the candle.
Zima crawled over to the window on the other side of the room and pointed his rifle down at the approaching men. “Wait for them.” He whispered to Ben.
The men spread out around the house, one of them was less than twenty yards from Ben’s window finally giving Ben a good look at him. The man was small and wore non-descript, ratty clothing. When the man glanced to the side Ben could see he was Asian. Despite the ragged clothing, the gun the man was holding appeared shiny and new. The man in the middle held up a single hand and the other two men stopped in their tracks. On the back of the middle man was an object that was instantly recognizable to Ben thanks to his years playing army video games and watching war movies. These were the men that had shot down their helicopter.
Zima tapped lightly on the floor to get his attention. “You take the one directly in front of you, I’ll handle the other two. On my mark.” And just like that the man turned around aimed down his sights.
Ben scrambled to get his gun in position and almost forgot to click off the safety. Just as the soldier in front of him appeared in his sights Zima’s gun went off and the soldier on the far side of the street went down. Ben focused and squeezed his trigger. The burst struck the soldier just as he turned towards the sound of the guns firing and the impact took him in the stomach. The sound of Ben’s gun going off caused his ears to ring but he could still make out the sound of the man’s yell as he fell on his back. Ben raised his gun in the direction of the second soldier but he was already down, the only evidence that he had been standing was a red mist that hung above him for a few moments. The soldier that Ben had shot started to crawl away before another burst from Zima’s gun ended his struggle.
“They’re down.” Zima said calmly. “You good?”
Ben dropped the barrel of his gun and tried to hide his shaking hands in the shadows. “Yeah…..I’m good.”
“Keep watch, if you see anything whistle down.” Zima said as he limped down the stairs.
Ben took a few calming breaths. He wanted this, well not this necessarily, but he wanted to matter and this was the route he had decided to take. Their helicopter was supposed to have landed outside of New York at a base where they could get their bearings and he could start proper training, instead they were here.
Zima popped into view staring down the sights of his assault rifle as he approached the downed men. Zima got within a few steps of the man Ben had shot and stopped. He aimed the barrel at the head of the downed man and fired a single shot, causing Ben to jump. Zima turned his sights on the other two men for a few seconds then relaxed and looked back up at Ben and gave him a thumbs up. Ben didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to respond so he just sat there. This was the road he had chosen to take, and there wasn’t any going back now.
Alec
The city that had once appeared to be nothing more than ruins now stood as an example of what could be. The abandoned cars had been moved out of the roadways and off of the streets, the boarded up houses had been restored switching them from an eyesore to a place people could be proud of, and the center of town had been transformed into a place where people could meet, trade goods and simply enjoy life. If Alec had no memory of how things were after the power went out he would have thought this was just a normal town, but Alec did remember. He remembered everything.
“So it sounds like things have calmed down over in your neck of the woods.” Whitford said staring off in the distance.
When the world was plunged into darkness this man had stayed in Centralia and did everything he could to keep it together. Alec had no doubt that without his leadership and guidance things would look very differently, and not in a good way.
“Yeah, people are getting along.” he answered. For a moment he could see Clive kneeled down in front of him, hands tied behind his back, eyes pleading for mercy, then the way his head had snapped back when Alec had pulled the trigger.
“That’s good to hear,” Whitford said saving Alec from his memories. “I feel I should apologize though.”
“Apologize?”
“Well, I knew Clive was a bad egg. I never thought he was capable of doing what he did, but I knew he didn’t get along with others. If I had kicked him out, or at the very least not allowed him to go with you, then that never would have happened.”
That being the murder of Jack, the last tie Alec had to a time when his family was still whole. That being the fact that Alec had chosen to
shoot the man in the head over attempting to banish him again.
“Things happen,” Alec said trying to convince himself. “There is no point in second guessing ourselves.”
Whitford waved at someone in the distance who called out his name. For a second the grim look on his face disappeared and was replaced by a smile, only to return back to its prior state seconds later. “How did everyone take it?”
The council had voted and the vote had been to kill Clive. Alec had been the deciding vote. The first time he voted to banish the man and because of that Jack was buried in the ground. He didn’t make the same mistake twice.
Whitford let out a sigh and shook his head. “Doesn’t matter what you do, to some people it will never be the right choice. It’s the burden of being looked at as a leader.”
“A leader?” He wasn’t a leader. People just looked to him because the land they were living on happened to be his late father’s.
“Don’t kid yourself Alec.” Whitford looked at him sideways and smiled. “You went out by yourself to try and find your sister. You saved a town’s worth of people from bad people and brought them to live with you, and when the tough choice needed to be made, you made it.”
This time Alec smiled, but not one of happiness, it was a smile made when something is so ridiculous it can’t be registered. “That sounds great Whitford. To those people out there,” he gestured towards the people milling about, “and to some people back home that might seem to be what happened, but it wasn’t. My sister was taken from me and I never found her. I actually gave up on finding her. The people I saved? That happened because I couldn’t stop bad people from burning most of the town to the ground. And the hard choice you’re talking about? That was only made after a good friend was killed.”
Whitford shook his head. “You know how many people were in this town when everything went black?”
Alec shook his head no.