Surviving the Fall (Book 1): Surviving the Fall

by Kraus, Mike

  Dianne could make out the flashing lights of fire trucks as they sat near the enormous burning hulk of an airliner that had crashed directly into the stadium, flinging debris for a half mile in diameter. Chunks of metal and remnants of seat cushions were scattered on the rooftops of the buildings around the town square, and Dianne could swear she saw the gruesomely twisted form of someone who had still been in their seat when it hit the road and skidded along for a few dozen yards.

  If the debris and victims from the crashed airplane had been the only things wrong with the town square, Dianne wouldn’t have been quite as concerned as she was. That, however, was merely the start. A small parking lot on the edge of the square that was normally filled with cars was instead a pile of charred metal, and the fire from the lot had spread to some of the buildings nearby. Owners and patrons of the shops were all standing out in front of their buildings, holding each other as they tended to various burns and other wounds they had suffered.

  “He’s probably still where, mommy?” From her position behind Dianne’s seat, Josie couldn’t see the smoke and carnage ahead of the truck, a fact that Dianne was extremely grateful for. Mark, on the other hand, saw it quite clearly, and started to say something when Dianne took another sharp turn, heading for the city’s lone grocery store on the back side of the town square.

  “Mom, was that an… airplane?”

  “I—I don’t know, Mark.”

  “Is dad still in the air? Or did he land? What’s going on, mom?”

  “Mark!” Dianne snapped at her son harsher than she intended, and she immediately gave him an apologetic glance. “I don’t know.” Dianne shook her head and lowered her voice to a whisper to avoid upsetting Josie. “I don’t know what’s going on, but this is bad. This is really, really bad. Let’s just get to the store and see if we can get any supplies, then we’ll figure out what to do from there.”

  Chapter 7

  Los Angeles, CA

  The juxtaposition of Jack’s speech patterns, attitude and hair with his suit and shoes was a constant source of amusement to Rick as the trio walked along together. Rick barely had to say anything since Jack was able to talk about seemingly any topic at length and with some degree of knowledge to boot. Originally from Arizona, Jack had traveled to Los Angeles a few years prior and lived on the beach while taking classes online to learn how to program.

  After a year of scraping by he managed to get a job offer and upgraded from a hammock between two trees to a single bedroom apartment in the heart of the city. He had never lost his love for the beach, though, as he made clear on more than one occasion. His style of dress, he explained, had been a choice that was quite personal to him. Growing up in poverty meant that he had never owned new clothing, and he used his first paycheck from his new job to buy the best suit and accessories he could afford, making it a point to never be under-dressed again.

  Samantha’s story was somewhat different than Jack’s, and she was quiet until Rick probed gently for her backstory. She had grown up in the area and was the daughter of a local investor who had used his leverage to get her a job at a company he had invested in. The job was as a project manager, and she and Jack had quickly developed a rapport despite their different backgrounds. When the “event” (as the trio soon came to call it) happened, Jack and Samantha had been driving from a meeting that had just wrapped up about a new product they were hoping to launch.

  After hearing their stories, Rick shared his own, telling them about his wife and children back in Virginia, the work he did for his—now more than likely former—employer and what he was doing in Los Angeles.

  “Dude, you are super lucky you were on the ground and not stuck in the air. There were a dozen planes at least that came down over the city and the bay!”

  Rick nodded solemnly. “Yeah, it was… something else.” The thought of the explosions and screams Rick had heard was enough to make him grow quiet, and Jack appeared to feel the same way. The three walked along together in silence, their shoes scraping against the metal, soot and asphalt. Every few cars they passed had another blackened body either in the vehicle or directly next to it, and though Rick felt queasy at the sight of every new body he saw, he could feel his mind starting to numb to the horror.

  As night fell, Rick was glad that the sky was starting to clear enough to allow the moon to peek through, which offered up just enough light to illuminate the road ahead while simultaneously hiding many of the horrors. He kept a small penlight and a screwdriver set in his breast pocket which he had thankfully remembered to get out of his luggage as he was first leaving the airport. After being looked over by more than a few people who were escaping the city, though, he didn’t want to advertise the fact that he had a light for fear of what someone might do to him to try and take it. Ordinary, good and innocent people can turn violent at the drop of a hat. All it takes is the proper motivation, and even a good man can fall prey to the temptations of evil.

  Jack and Samantha continued traveling with Rick until night fell, at which point they decided to stop and rest until the next morning. Rick had nearly stayed with them, but the desire in his gut to escape the city and find a way back home was far too powerful to overcome.

  “You sure you don’t want to stay here, dude? We might not stay the whole night. Maybe just an hour or two to get some rest.”

  Rick smiled. “I appreciate the offer, Jack, but I need to keep moving. The sooner I get out of the city, the sooner I’ll be able to get in touch with my family.”

  Samantha and Jack glanced at each other before giving Rick a hug. He stood still, surprised by the sudden embrace, before returning it.

  “All the best to you, Rick.” Samantha smiled at him. “Stay safe, okay?”

  “Yeah, man. Keep your eyes open. Lots of crazies and weirdos around this town, if you know what I mean.” Jack made a show of twirling his fingers at the sides of his head, then laughed and shook Rick’s hand. Rick gave the pair a final wave as he walked off, still tempted to stay with them and rest, but ultimately determined to keep moving no matter the cost.

  As Rick walked along, he saw more and more people stopped on the overpass, clustered together into small groups. There were young, old, women, men, children and elderly; whatever had happened had been no respecter of persons. Rick picked up on pieces of whispered conversations held by those along the overpass as each group discussed and debated their own theories about what had happened. Rick himself still wasn’t sure, but the further east he walked along the overpass, the more he hoped that it really was just isolated to the city itself.

  Sitting down to give his feet a few moments of rest, Rick sat on a spare tire that had fallen off of a burning vehicle and rolled off to come to a rest against the side barrier of the overpass. With Jack and Samantha far behind him, Rick was starting to feel the effects of isolation begin to set in, as well as feeling the exhaustion from the day’s events. As his head began to nod forward, Rick suddenly stood up and started walking again, shaking his shoulders and head around to try and clear the sleepiness from his head. Falling asleep on the overpass wasn’t something he wanted to do, especially since there were still so many people wandering by—many of whom eyed his stained and wrinkled suit with no small amount of desire in their eyes.

  Rick slipped out of his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, trying to appear more casual and like he didn’t have any valuables on his person. Not like I do anyway, but I’m not sure certain folks would agree with me there. Another hour’s walk transpired in relative silence until, in the distance, Rick saw a faint glow appear on the overpass. As he drew closer he saw crowds of people shuffling off onto a series of exits from the overpass down into the city. “What’s going on?” Rick asked a few people walking by. “Why is everyone getting off?”

  The fourth person Rick questioned stopped for a moment and pointed at the light in the distance. “A fuel truck overturned on the road; there’s no way through.” The woman resumed her steady plod down the ramp while Rick stare
d at the burning wreckage. In the distance, beyond it, he could just barely see the eastern edge of the city, and the hope that it brought with it to escape the burned and blackened hell it had become. “Damn.” Rick whispered to himself as he joined the others in their slow walk down the overpass and into the darkened streets below.

  As Rick descended into the unfamiliar streets of a city he had never before visited, he became aware of just how vulnerable he was. The streets were sheltered from much of the moonlight and starlight above, necessitating a slower pace to his travels. Although he had exited the overpass in the company of several other people, he soon found himself walking alone as they split off onto other paths, their paths and destinations clear in their minds. Rick’s destination was clear, but the path to reach it was vague.

  Resisting the urge to use his penlight, Rick stuck to the middle of the street as he walked along, listening to the wind blow past the buildings and along the alleys. He was in a cross between a residential and business area of the city, where signs alternated between advertising apartments for rent and various cuisines. Movement was visible inside many of the buildings as people walked about holding flashlights and lanterns as they tried to end their day with some sense of normalcy.

  As Rick walked along his ears began to pick up more sounds from the city. A few distant shouts, the cry of an unhappy baby, the vague and unsettling whispers of figures hiding in the shadows. The further out into the city Rick went, the quieter the city became, until all was still and silent for the longest time. After a good half hour of hearing nothing but the wind and his own footsteps, Rick thought he was hearing things when the sounds of a car engine started drifting along on the breeze. He stopped in the middle of the street and cocked his head, searching for the elusive sound when it echoed through, slightly louder than it was before.

  The roar of the engine was growing rapidly closer, and Rick finally realized that it wasn’t his imagination—the sound was quite real. He glanced behind him and saw the faint glow of headlights growing rapidly closer, and a strange thought passed through the back of his head. Hide. The hairs on the back of Rick’s neck prickled as he dashed behind the wreckage of a burned out car sitting on the side of the road.

  As the car approached, it became apparent that it wasn’t just one car, but three. They were older vehicles, two Cadillacs and a black SUV, and all three had loud music blasting from inside. They drove along the road at a dangerous pace, their tires screeching as they wove between the burned out vehicles in their way and gunned their engines when they had a hundred feet of clear street ahead.

  Rick could make out the drivers and passengers of the vehicles as they whizzed by since the cars had their internal lights switched on. Rows of tattoos adorned the skin of each person he saw, and nearly every one of them held a bottle or can in one hand and a gun in the other. There was no particular cohesive ethnic background about the individuals in the vehicles, though they all shared one trait—an excessive amount of maniacal laughter, making Rick exceptionally glad he had listened to his gut.

  As the vehicles roared off into the night, Rick slowly stood up from his hiding place and stared at where they had gone, a single question on his mind. “How are their cars still working?”

  Chapter 8

  Ellisville, VA

  Dianne was grateful that there were a few running vehicles going through the town since they helped her truck blend in and be less of a target than it had been while driving in. As she approached the “Eat Rite” grocery store, though, she noticed that there was a distinct lack of vehicles in the parking lot that weren’t burned to a crisp, and decided to stop and drive around to the side of the building, parking the truck near a pair of dumpsters.

  “All right, kids. Listen up.” Dianne looked in the rearview mirror at Jacob and Josie. “I need to run into the store for five minutes. I want you to stay here, with the doors locked, and I want all three of you tucked out of sight in the back cab with a blanket over you, okay?”

  Mark looked confusedly at his mom. “Even me?”

  “Especially you, bud. I need you back there taking care of your brother and sister, okay?”

  “Sure, I guess. But why the blanket?”

  “I want all three of you out of sight.” Dianne looked around outside the vehicle, seeing a few people walking off in the distance but no one close enough to notice them. “And whatever you do, don’t open the door or make a sound for anyone. I don’t care who they look or sound like. Unless I unlock and open the door to this truck, you don’t move or make a sound. Got it?”

  The gravity of the situation was starting to set in for Mark, and he nodded slowly, his eyes wide. As he turned to crawl into the back of the vehicle, he stopped to whisper to Dianne. “Mom, are we going to be okay?”

  Dianne put on a brave face, smiled and patted him on the back. “You bet we are. I don’t know what’s going on, but we’re going to be A-Okay.”

  Mark didn’t really believe what his mother was saying, but he crawled into the back seat and helped pull up an old quilt from where it was folded on the floor. Dianne stepped out of the truck and closed the door quietly before turning the key in the lock and pulling on both doors on the left side to ensure they wouldn’t open. She checked the doors on the right side as well before casting an eye at the ground nearby, jingling the keys in her hand.

  “Where to put you… ah. Here we go.” A small stack of cinderblocks sat behind the dumpster on the left side of the truck, and Dianne carefully tucked the keys to the truck inside one of the holes in the bottom block before standing back up and surveying the area. There was still no sign of anyone nearby, and she headed for the front of the grocery store, walking at a quick pace. Hiding the keys in the cinderblock had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, but the condition of the town had her feeling especially worried and paranoid about being robbed. The last thing she wanted to do was give anyone the keys to her vehicle, and she figured that hiding them was better than potentially losing them.

  As Dianne rounded the corner to the grocery store and approached the entrance, she started to hear the roar of angry voices and the clatter of carts, cans, and people pushing into each other. As she walked in, she stopped just inside the door, staring in horror at the scene unfolding in the store. Mass panic had gripped the residents of the town, and the store was filled with at least two hundred people—far more than would ever be there on a normal day.

  They were crammed into the store like sardines in a can, pushing against each other and smashing their shopping carts together as they ran down the aisles, dumping food into their carts. Fights were breaking out across the store as supplies began running low and shoppers began stealing from each other’s baskets. At the front, it was somehow even worse. There were only four cashiers on duty, and they were desperately trying to ring everyone up, though the noise and commotion made it impossible to concentrate.

  At the front of the store, on a large television usually reserved for displaying corny advertisements and sales, a newscaster sat behind his desk. Dianne couldn’t hear anything over the noise in the store, but closed captioning had been turned on. She stopped for a minute and watching, growing increasingly mortified at what she read.

  “Repeating our top story—the US government has confirmed that this is a national emergency. An unknown attack has resulted in the destruction of an estimated hundred and fifty million vehicles in the country, with an unknown additional number in other countries across the world. The key to these attacks appears to be an attack on the vehicle computers that caused them to short circuit and ignite their gas tanks. Similar reports are being confirmed about the mobile phone and airline industries, which have also suffered catastrophic losses. We’re also receiving reports that the computer systems in several major power providers have been affected and it is expected that rolling blackouts will occur as the day progresses.

  “The human toll is incalculable, but deaths are likely to be in the millions, based on what we’re seeing thus
far. We have very little solid information to go on at this time, but we encourage you to remain in your homes and away from your vehicles and phones until more information comes in.”

  Dianne could feel her adrenaline flowing as she turned from the television with a renewed sense of purpose. She grabbed a cart sitting off to the side near the ice cooler and made her way to the center of the store where the canned goods and nonperishables were stocked. She was surprised to see only a handful of people in the two aisles containing the nonperishables loading up their carts. One of them, an older man, glanced at her as she turned the corner and sped down the aisle. “You’d better hurry up; once the bread and meat runs out, that mob’s gonna stop being so picky about what they want.”

  Dianne nodded slowly in thanks at the man, who simply headed off to the next aisle. It was unfathomable to her that people were fighting over things like fresh meat and bread, which would go bad within a few days or less, especially if the power were to go out. Still, she wasn’t ungrateful for the mob’s foolishness, as it offered her ample time to stock up on what she needed.

  First in the cart were sacks of beans; black, red and pinto. Next went every spare bag of rice she could lay her hands on, both white and brown. Once her cart was half-full with rice and beans she pushed the heavy cart to the next aisle and began throwing canned soups, vegetables and fruits into the cart. As she struggled to turn the over-burdened cart towards the front of the store, she heard a faint electrical hum that grew louder by the second until—POP!

  As the lights in the store blinked out, the screaming began. The only light available to see by came in through the front windows, which were nearly completely covered by advertisements. Realizing that things were about to get extremely hairy, Dianne barreled down the aisle and skidded around the turn at the end, knocking over the endcap as she worked to keep the cart upright. Ahead of her, the chaos had grown to a level she could scarcely believe. The cashiers had all but fled their posts, leaving the customers fighting to push their carts out through the checkout lanes to escape the store. People of all ages fought viciously with each other, though she was somewhat relieved to see that the fighting hadn’t escalated past fists and using shopping carts as battering rams.