by D. Gideon
SUNFALL
BOOK 1: JOURNEY
DREW GIDEON
CONTENTS
Preface
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Afterword
About the Author
SUNFALL
Book 1: Journey
Copyright © 2016 Drew Gideon
Cover Art by Muhammad Asad
Editing by Shirley Linn
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
For my parents, Dick and Shirley.
Thank you for always supporting me, no matter what.
Preface & Acknowledgements
Along with being a writer, I am also a voracious reader; my favorites are urban fantasy, anything paranormal, and of course, post-apoc prepper fiction. Being a prepper myself, for years I’ve hung out in a lot of preparedness forums and groups online. Something I see every year is anxious parents getting ready to send their kids off to college, wondering how they can help their child be prepared to travel sometimes hundreds of miles home should the need arise. The college’s draconian zero-tolerance rule on having any sort of item that might be construed as useful for defending one’s self combined with society’s disdain for being prepared can be dangerous roadblocks for a college student to navigate. So, I set out to write this book. For those parents and college-bound kids, I hope it helps.
One trend I see is that much of the prepper fiction genre has tilted heavily towards what I call “Prepper Porn”, in that the main character either has or knows someone who has every imaginable preparation for any far-fetched scenario, no matter the millions of dollars it would cost. I don’t know of anyone with a four-level state-of-the-art self-sustaining bunker, enough night vision gear, body armor, ammo and fully automatic rifles to outfit the National Guard, along with their own personal speed boat or MRAP upon which is mounted a .50-cal…but to read the genre, you’d think that’s what it takes to be a prepper. I’m here to tell you that you don’t have to be uber-tacticool and heavily in debt to prep. Knowledge and skills win out over gear every time. Simply being aware that our society is a thin veneer of civility held up by very fragile, outdated systems puts you ahead of 95% of the population. That’s a huge advantage—use it.
The SUNFALL series is based on real reactions by normal people—the kind of people that surround you right now. It illustrates a realistic timeline using actual technical and psychological data along with history. Shit hits the fan every day somewhere in the world, and by watching and learning from those events, we can know what to expect should trouble ever come into our lives. I haven’t written this to make you lose hope or feel that there’s no use in being prepared (which is why you won’t find heavily-armed road pirates demanding tolls two hours after the event happens—that’s completely unrealistic); I’ve written it hoping to encourage you and give you ideas.
There is a lot of work that goes into writing a book, and in my case, a small army of people involved. I’ve done my best to check with field experts to make sure my details are correct, but should you find an error, rest assured it is mine, not theirs. Special thanks go to my eldest son for reading the story aloud multiple times, my middle son for proofreading as I was writing it (which I didn’t always appreciate at the time), my hubby for keeping me giggling, and everyone in the SUNFALL Facebook group for all of their brainstorming and hammering out details. Simon, David, and Sky…you guys rock.
It is natural for man to indulge in the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth, and listen to the song of that siren ‘till she transforms us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men, engaged in a great and arduous struggle for liberty? Are we disposed to be of the number of those who, having eyes, see not, and, having ears, hear not, the things which so nearly concern their temporal salvation? For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to know the whole truth, to know the worst, and to provide for it.
~Patrick Henry
March 23, 1775
CHAPTER 1
F riday, August 31st
College Park, Maryland
The world, as we knew it, ended the night the sun fell down.
I stepped out onto the "green roof" of our dorm building and took a deep breath. Some of the wildflowers were still in bloom, and it was a welcome relief from the antiseptic smell I'd gotten used to at the animal shelter.
Following the stepping stones on the gravel path that wove between garden plots, I made my way over to the western side of the building. I loved to sneak up here after the sunset and watch the city buzzing and thriving. The view was incredible—being nine stories up, I could see nearly all of University of Maryland’s campus and a good portion of College Park, as well. Peering into the distance, I gave a mock salute when I found the flight lights of The Washington Monument.
Leaning against the retaining wall, I bent and flipped my hair over. It was thick and heavy, falling far down past my shoulders. If I used a hair dryer it would turn into a frizzy cloud, so my only solution after a shower was to finger-comb it and fan it out in the breeze to help it dry.
"You're not supposed to be up here, you know."
I jumped, looking around. Todd Jacobs, a fellow senior that Corey and I had gotten to know last year, was leaning against the wall about ten feet away. He'd been so still, I hadn't even seen him.
"Todd! You scared the shit out of me!"
He chuckled, walked over to my section of the wall and hopped up on it for a seat.
"If I'm not supposed to be up here, then you're definitely not supposed to be up there," I said.
He pointed to the logo on his shirt that signified he was a Resident Assistant. "R.A. this year for the sixth floor. I'm permitted to come up here, as long as I'm chasing people off."
I cocked an eyebrow. "So, you gonna chase me off?"
He shrugged. "Maybe later. I need a break from downstairs. Too much drama from Move-In Day. Got a guy whose roommate canceled, so he thinks he should have the room to himself for the rest of the year."
"Good luck with that," I snorted.
"Exactly. We'll have someone in that room by Sunday." He spun around, feet dangling over the side of the building. I leaned on the wall next to him, and we silently watched the traffic below.
I liked Todd. He was the strong, silent type—heavy on the strong. He already looked like the Marine he'd be once he graduated next summer. More importantly though, he didn't fill up the silence with empty talk.
A heavy engine caught our attention, and we watched as what looked like an old Army truck chugged slowly past the building. Behind it, a pickup truck painted in military camo waited for some students to cross the road. Young men in the back
of the pickup were calling to the students, inviting them to take a ride. Leaning out past Todd, I looked further down the drive and saw two more trucks painted like this one, slowly making their way over the speed bumps.
"Huh," I said. "You ROTC guys doing some kind of show this weekend?"
"Not that I know of. Only thing on my radar is the opening football game tomorrow."
"Wonder where they're going," I mused.
"They’ve been driving back and forth all day, trying to pick up girls," Todd said. "You didn't see them earlier?"
"I was working my internship at the animal shelter all day," I answered. "Didn't see much of anything besides dogs and dog poo."
Todd gestured to the visitor parking, across the street.
"Well they've been tying up traffic, with all the new students driving around trying to find their dorms, and then trying to find a place to park."
"Hmph," I said, curious. We fell into silence again, watching the trucks rumble past.
A few minutes later we heard the rooftop door open, and hushed voices. Turning, I could see the silhouettes of three people trying to sneak across the walking stones.
"You guys are about as quiet as a herd of elephants," I said. Beside me, Todd chuckled.
"I'm too big to be quiet," Corey said. "Hey Todd."
"As your R.A., I'm required to tell you that you're not supposed to be up here. You'll have to leave immediately or risk getting a mark on your record," Todd deadpanned.
"Oh, crap!" Josh said, stopping. "Sorry, Todd. We didn't know-"
"I'm screwing with you, Johnson," Todd said. "Come on over. If anyone catches us, I'll say we saw someone going up the stairs and you guys were helping me search the roof. Just hide those keycard bypasses that Marco made for you."
“You still have the one I gave you?” Marco asked.
“Are you kidding? As an R.A., I wouldn’t dare risk my position with something that can get me into every building and dorm room on campus,” Todd said, pulling what looked like a dry-erase marker out of the deep pocket of his cargo shorts. He wiggled it around as if inspecting it, then tucked it back into his pocket.
“Nope, never heard of the things,” he said with a grin.
Marco and Josh leaned onto the wall next to me, and Corey swung a leg over to perch sideways.
I pushed my damp hair out of the way and smiled—not for the first time—at how wildly different the three of them were.
Josh was barely sixteen and in his fourth year of pre-med. His red hair and fair skin made me wonder how he had ever stayed outside long enough to earn the title of Maryland's youngest Eagle Scout. He was small for his age; coming in just over five feet—which the college girls thought was incredibly cute. Josh found most college girls terrifying.
Marco took up Josh's slack with the ladies. His reputation for flirting on campus had earned him the nickname of "Romeo" in his freshman year; a title he seemed to take as a personal challenge. Not that he had to try—with wavy chestnut hair, copper skin, close-cut beard, and eyes so light they seemed golden—he drew the women in like flies. Once he started wooing them with his Portuguese accent, they were done for.
Then there was Corey, my best friend and constant companion since I moved in next to his house at the age of 14. Being extra tall with milk chocolate skin made most people wary of him; something that enraged me, but he was indifferent. "Ripley," he'd say. "If they can't see past what's on the outside, then they don't deserve to see what's on the inside."
Corey and Marco had gotten thrown together randomly as roommates last year. Josh and I were paired up in Physics lab in the spring and he had stopped by my room to check in on a project—after that, he was in our rooms nearly as much as he was in his own. This year the three of them had requested to room together. After all the suffering Corey had gone through in high school—being the tall, skinny nerd who wouldn't play basketball and refused to follow his older brother into small-town football stardom—watching him finally bond with other guys was a welcome sight.
I moved over and leaned against Corey, and felt his short, scratchy beard as he rubbed his chin on the top of my head.
"Gah," I said, reaching up to untangle my hair from his chin. "It's going to take me a while to get used to that. It's like velcro."
"Sorry," he chuckled, his laugh low and rumbling. "The ladies in Philly seemed to appreciate it."
I thumped him on his chest. "I don't want to hear about your many conquests while you were off saving the world," I said.
"How about mine?" Marco asked, flashing a grin. "There was this exotic young lady that came out to the Google campus-"
"Spare us, Vicente," Todd said. "We've got a minor in the group."
"Yeah," I agreed. "Besides, I'm already jealous enough that you guys got to go off to Philly and California for your internships while I was stuck here taking summer classes and shoveling dog poo."
“Didn’t you get to help with any surgeries?” Josh asked.
“I did,” I admitted. I couldn’t help but smile. “That part was cool. Not seeing you guys for three months, though? That sucked.”
"If you hadn't dropped the clutch in your Bug, you could've come up to say hi," Corey said. "It's only a couple hours away."
"Oh, I finally got the money to get that fixed," I said. "I sent it out to Grams and she ordered the part. Our Thanksgiving vacation is going to be so much fun. You get to crawl under the car and I get to hand you tools."
Corey groaned.
“I was talking about Melanie,” Marco interjected. “My internship ended on the 23rd, so she came to rescue me from a week of hotel living.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Seriously? Mel? My Mel?” Melanie was my roommate. While she affectionately referred to Corey, Marco and Josh as “Tall, Dark, and Ginger”, she’d never taken an interest in Marco. Not more than the value he added to the scenery, anyway.
“You seem surprised,” Marco said, one hand to his chest in mock offense. “No woman can resist my charms…”
I crossed my arms and leveled a look at him.
“Okay, she was bored, and took pity on me,” he admitted, dropping his hand and grinning. “Her parents are off on some European vacation and she had the beach house to herself.” He chuckled, remembering. “You should’ve heard the other guys at the wi-fi hacker’s camp when she pulled up in the McLaren.”
“A bunch of hackers? Probably the first time they’ve seen a girl,” Todd said.
“Probably the first time they’ve seen a McLaren,” Josh countered. “Did she let you drive it?”
Marco laughed. “Hell no. Said she wasn’t going to be seen sitting in the ‘trophy seat’.” He made air quotes with his fingers.
We laughed, and fell into silence, an unasked question hanging in the air. Spitting noises started up as the green roof’s water sprinklers came on.
Corey cleared his throat. “Well if no one else will ask, I will… are you and Mel…?” He waved his hand back and forth.
“What? Oh. No. No. We just hung out for a week and flew in together this morning. She showed me around Los Angeles.”
“Translation: You got to hold her shopping bags,” I said, grinning.
“Exactly,” Marco said, laughing.
“The stressful life of the Speaker of the House’s daughter,” Corey said in a high falsetto, fanning himself. “Which restaurant do we eat at today?”
I elbowed him in his side as I was chuckling.
“Where is Mel, anyway? She should be here with us. First night back at school, and all.” Josh said.
“She left me a note saying she’d gone for dinner and shopping with some of the girls from our dorm,” I said. “Told me since I didn’t get back in time to go with them, I had no right to bitch over what she bought for me.”
“That sounds like trouble,” Corey said. “She’ll buy you all kinds of goth stuff.”
“Afrogothic,” I corrected, holding up a finger and using Mel’s term to describe her unique style. “And I don�
��t qualify.”
I reached into the pocket of my cargo pants and pulled out a piece of hard candy. I still hadn’t had any dinner, and my stomach was twisting itself into knots.
“I hope she brings back some food,” I said. “I’ve got five bucks to last me until Tuesday, and the campus cafeterias are already closed.”
There was a faint green glow from the wall as Corey checked his watch.
“Yep,” he said. “They close at 8, and it’s ten after. Should’ve said something earlier, Rip. We could’ve met there instead of up here.”
“Kick off Labor Day weekend, and everyone’s first night back together, in the University cafeteria?” I asked. “I’m not that cruel.”
Corey pushed his glasses up on his nose and flashed me his trademark smirk; telling me he wanted to refute that statement, but thought better of it. I grinned and flipped him the bird.
“We could walk over to Sbarro,” Marco suggested.
“Five bucks to last me until Tuesday?” I repeated, popping the candy into my mouth and crunching down. I was too hungry to let it melt.
Marco waved his hand. “My treat. Or I could order pizza.”
“I’d be up for some pizza,” Josh said. Corey murmured his agreement.
Marco was already pulling out his cell phone and scrolling through his contact list. “I’ve still got the number programmed in here,” he said. “Todd, you in?”
Todd shook his head. “I’m good, man—but thanks.”
Marco tapped his screen a few times and held the phone up to his ear. I could faintly hear error tones and a robotic voice.
“That’s strange,” Marco said, tapping the phone a few more times and holding it back up to his ear. I heard the error tones again. “It says my call cannot be completed, to please try again later.”
“Maybe everybody got the idea to call for pizza at once,” Josh joked.
Marco was holding his phone aloft, turning in a slow circle. “My bars just dropped to nothing,” he complained. “I should have great reception up here. We’re higher than anything else on campus.”
Todd was slowly sliding back off of the wall onto the roof, his attention fixated on something in the south parking lot. “Guys…”