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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
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Echoes of Tomorrow
Season One
Episode Six
Douglas Wayne
ECHOES OF TOMORROW
SEASON ONE
EPISODE SIX
Douglas Wayne
Copyright © 2015 by Douglas Wayne. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events or locales is purely coincidental. Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.
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Chapter One
Mobile, Alabama
September 16, 2013
Screams of horror filled the air as the deaths registered to the crowds. People at the gas tanks ran away from their cars, leaving the pumps unattended as they ran for cover.
Tyler felt at his waistband for the handgun he’d stashed there before going inside to pay. For a moment, he thought about pulling it out to shoot the people still looting Dan’s truck, but he knew it wouldn’t do him any good. Most the stuff had already been taken, leaving scant supplies for the others to fight over.
Instantly, he regretted splitting the supplies with him. His mind blew through countless version of the scene, wondering if it would’ve been different had they all been in the same truck or if all the supplies had been in the back of his truck.
Tyler wasn’t fond of Dan, but he didn’t want him dead. Especially over a secondary truck and some supplies. No life in the world was worth any of that, yet they killed him for the meager amount the man with the gun could carry away which wasn’t much after the others took their share.
Within moments, the ravenous crowd had picked the truck clean. A few pieces of cardboard, two broken windows, and the blood splattered truck were all that remained.
Muffled whispers formed at the rear of the crowd. Tyler noticed the eyes of the empty-handed would-be looters all converge on him like a committee of vultures staring down an easy snack. He kept his eyes focused on them, trying his best to avoid looking at the supplies hidden under the blanket. He suspected they already knew where they were, but he hoped by avoiding them they’d leave him alone.
The man who’d shot Dan in the head pointed at Tyler and the group now ten large moved in. Tyler reached for his gun, pulled it out and aimed it at the group. Avoiding having everyone in the same place, they spread out, each taking a different path to his truck.
Tyler debated pulling the trigger as they closed in. He assumed most of them were starved and thirsty and likely broke. Most the stragglers were part of the last group of people to swarm Dan’s truck. Those that got a case of food or water took their spoils and ran down the road before the man with the gun turned his attention to them. A few of the people moving in held a single can or two, not enough for their needs.
While he wanted to protect his supplies, he didn’t want to kill to do it. But he knew it would come to that if he wanted to live. Pulling the gun had likely damned him in the eyes of the looters, marking him as public enemy number one. They wouldn’t think twice about killing him to feed themselves or people they knew, so why shouldn’t he do the same.
Out of the group, Tyler watched the man with the gun the closest. Canned goods and fists were only deadly if they got in close, which he didn’t intend to happen at any cost. The man with the gun was a different story. He could end Tyler’s little charade before it started, spilling his blood on the concrete to overpower the gas stains accumulated over the years.
One looter pushed past the pump in front of Tyler, hands clinched in a fist as if prepared to attack. He walked with his body close to the ground, like he was preparing for the gunshot that would be heading his way.
Tyler tried not to laugh as he watched the man damn near crawl on the ground. As much as he wanted to teach the punk a lesson, he knew shooting the gun at running gas pumps wasn’t the greatest idea. Yeah, one gas pump explosion could stop their advance, allowing him and his precious supplies to escape. But with the other gas pumps still in use it was just as likely the blast would ignite one of the other pumps killing everyone from here to the highway in a large fireball.
Inside the truck, Marcy pulled the handgun from the glove box. She fumbled with the switches, trying to find the safety only to find it not far from where her thumb naturally rested while holding it. Holding the gun at a woman approaching from the side, her arms shook violently, making it difficult for her to aim.
The group of people were closing in. Most kept some distance or hid behind the now abandoned cars for cover. Tyler knew unless he did something, he would be overrun within minutes when the first brave looter popped his head up high enough to draw that first shot. He raised the gun in the air and pulled the trigger. The bullet ripped through the plastic awning covering the fuel pumps.
The closest group of people dropped to the ground with the sound, a few covering their heads with their arms like they could stop a bullet. The man with the gun also dropped though unlike the others he crawled back to the streets.
Not so brave then the bullets aren’t yours, Tyler laughed.
The reprieve lasted a few moments before the first looter popped his head over the side of the truck. Tyler brought his weapon to bear as the man reached in the back to pull back the cover, revealing the cache of goods for everyone to see. Seeing with their own eyes what many suspected to be ramblings of one man earlier sent them into a reckless charge at Tyler and the truck.
Before long, the sides of the truck were swarming with people reaching over the sides and grabbing whatever they could carry. Tyler had had enough. Watching the people take the food and water sent him over the edge.
Leveling the gun at the nearest looter, he pulled the trigger. The bullet hit the man in the chest, sending him backwards against the looter just behind. While the man fell out of the way Tyler turned the weapon to the next person in line, a middle aged woman whose looked like it had lost a battle with three raccoons. She noticed the weapon a step too late and caught a bullet square in her shoulder, jolting her body sideways to the ground.
The front door of the gas station opened. The two large men walked out, rifles leveled at the looters in front of the ensuing scene.
“Back the fuck up,” one said to a looter who passed too close in his attempt to make it to Tyler. The looter ignored the guard and made his way to the front of the truck. The guards fired on the man long before he reached the drivers side door, pelting him with bullets that cut him apart at the waist.
With the added gunshots, people in the back of the crowd turned tail and ran, pushing through groups of people moving in to watch the scene. Most ran past their cars and across the street befo
re ducking for cover behind the first objects large enough to protect them.
People in the middle of the pack weren’t as lucky. Half pushed forward for their chance at the supplies against the tide of others trying to push back. Yelling erupted from this group, even as Tyler and the guards shot more rounds in the front lines.
“Let me go,” a blond haired woman yelled from the middle pack as she was being held by two larger men wearing sleeveless black shirts. One held a knife to her neck while holding her around her waist while the other went for her legs.
Tyler turned his attention to the action at the front of the truck since the tailgate area seemed secure. He noticed the two men scuffling away from the truck, holding the woman who struggled to escape. They were nearly to the street when she twisted her body out of their hands. Her arm landed on the pavement with an awkward snap, bending behind her at a reverse right angle allowing both bones of her lower arm to jut through the skin. The two men looked down at the now wounded woman, debating what to do. The one with a knife urged his friend to run, waving the knife frantically towards the highway hoping his friend got the hint. But the other man had his eye on the woman. He eyed her with lust, licking his lips as he looked her up and down.
Tyler covered half the distance before the man noticed him. In a seated position, the woman pushed herself away from the man while cradling her broken arm with the other hand.
The man took a step to the woman when he noticed her backing into Tyler. His gaze moved from the woman to the backdrop now behind her.
“Go.” Tyler raised the gun, aiming for the broad section of the man’s chest just below the neck.
“And if I don’t?” The man cracked his knuckles then raised them for a fight.
Tyler pulled the trigger and the man’s chest blossomed as the bullet hit. The man’s body fell back and slammed into a car at pump six; his blood running on the dirty off-white sedan as it slid off the car and onto the ground.
Tyler turned his weapon on the man with the knife. He held it there for a moment, waiting to give the man a chance to make his move first. Wisely, the man dropped the knife and turned around, his boots pounding the pavement non-stop until he reached the highway.
Through her screams and sobs, the woman looked up, and thanked Tyler. She was in bad shape. The broken arm looked horrible. A few days ago it would’ve been a painful, yet routine fix. There would be multiple surgeries to set the bone and put pins in it, but she’d be able to use it like normal after a few months. But with the hospital in its current state Tyler wasn’t sure how realistic that level of care was.
Another woman moved in to help her. “I got this.” She said and knelt down to look her over.
Tyler took a few steps back and turned to the truck. The guards near the door had stopped firing and caught their breath. Nearly a dozen bodies lie on the ground around the truck, blood running down the slight incline to pool in the cracks. Bullet holes filled each one, their eyes all open in a final gaze of horror.
Tyler approached the side of the truck cautiously to avoid alerting the guards. They turned their weapons onto him as he got close, but lowered them once they saw who it was.
“You OK?” Harv asked as he stepped over the body of what looked to be a teenage kid. The boy’s hand grasped the object he lost his life for. A single can of ravioli.
“Yeah,” Tyler looked inside the truck and found Marcy huddled on the seat holding her head. He knocked on the window to let her know it was over as he passed.
“Have anything left?”
The tailgate was down, single cans of food and bottles of water littered the back, some spilling out the back as they had been shot full of holes. Tyler lifted the cover and found some of the supplies were still there, the only things left were a few cases of the canned food, one case of water, and two cases of soda. Amazingly, he still had all the beer.
“Most of it. Thanks for the help.”
Harv nodded. “That’s why they pay us the big bucks.”
Tyler wondered what this man did before. His guess was security or a cop. Or perhaps Harv was like him, ex-military. He didn’t hesitate to pull out his weapon, or to use it. It was a rare enough trait outside the normal security sector though he suspected that trend was about to change.
“Talking about big bucks,” Tyler reached into the bed of the truck and pulled out two cases of beer and handed it over.
“We can’t take that,” Harv said, stepping back.
“Sure you can. It’s the least I can do.” Tyler saw the apprehension on Harv’s face. “If you won’t take it, give it to her.” He nodded to the woman behind the counter who was now poking her head through the glass double doors.
Harv smiled and took the case while the other man took the other. They took the beer to the woman who stayed quiet and went back inside.
Tyler covered the supplies and got in the truck. He put the handgun in the seat between them as he put the truck in the drive. Exiting the parking lot he drove past the woman with the broken arm. Two people helped her into the back of the other woman’s van. The back row of seats sat near the trash can to make room for the medical emergency. Tyler was glad she was going to get help, but felt bad for her all the same.
He kept on the gas until he pulled out on the highway. Looking over, he noticed Marcy clutching the gun as they drove, knuckles white as if she expected to have to fight for the weapon. For a moment he considered asking her to put it away, but didn’t. He figured if having it in her hands made her feel safer, it would be OK. Lord knew he felt safer with her having one ready, and the one at his side.
Chapter Two
They drove a few miles northwest, following 98 back towards Flagstaff before Marcy relaxed her hold on the gun. She flexed one hand a few times to relieve the muscles of a cramp that had formed from her death grip, then switched hands and did the other.
“I think you can put it down for a minute,” Tyler joked. “We should be safe for a while.”
“Sorry,” Marcy said, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as she placed the gun next to Tyler’s in the spot between them.
“Don’t be.” Tyler flashed a grin then returned his eyes to the road.
“No. I mean for freezing up back there.” She leaned forward and rubbed her eyes, trying to hide the tears the begged to break free.
“It was fine. You were scared. I get it.” Tyler knew it was one thing to take shots at something else. Most people, once broken past the aversion of killing things, have little issue pulling the trigger while hunting game. But that all changes the moments your game fires back. He’d seen some of the roughest, toughest men in his unit drop to the ground like cowards once the bullets started to fly while the puny ones held the line. The men he expected to lead a charge were often the ones being dragged behind.
But beyond that there was another group of people he’d met. Those that spent those terse moments between engagements huddled off on their own regardless of the decisions they made in battle. It didn’t matter if they were out on the front lines exchanging fire with the enemy or ducked behind a concrete barrier while bullets ricocheted off the walls. Each encounter affects everyone differently, he knew that better than anyone.
“I thought I was over that.” She wiped her nose on her sleeve and reached for the gun. Tyler saw what she was trying to do and covered the weapons with his hand. “I’m fine.”
“Take a minute to relax. Nobody will get us on the highway.”
“You don’t know that.” She pushed his hand away and grabbed her gun. “Someone could’ve created a roadblock up ahead, like at work.”
“Yeah, or it could be smooth sailing from here to Flagstaff. You going to hold that thing for the whole trip.”
She nodded and he sighed. He’d hoped to trade spots with her on the drive so they could stay running non-stop until he got home. But unless she got over her apprehension, he’d be behind the wheel the whole time. As long as that was the case, that meant they had to stop at least once, and pr
obably three or more times depending on the roads up ahead. Just outside the city of Mobile the roads were clear. They passed the occasional car flipped over in a ditch or stalled on the side of the road, but as far as he was concerned it was normal. No different than it was before the event.
“You think someone came and cleared the streets?” She asked after a few more miles, breaking the silence.
Tyler shrugged. “Wouldn’t surprise me. They didn’t leave them blocked for long before.”
“Yeah, but things were normal before.” She stared out the window at a billowing fire raging a mile off the road. “I mean, back then people were paid to clear the roads. People had jobs.”
“That world is dead.” Tyler sighed. “I’m not sure it will ever come back.” The world had turned into the wild west all over again. Everybody out for themselves. The constant struggle of earning money to pay the bills replaced with finding the stuff they need to survive. The comforts of the modern world replaced with the horror of the new.
But people in the wild west days had an advantage over modern society. They were raised in that rough and often ruthless environment. People today have to rely on other people for their basic survival needs. Water available at the turn of a tap. Getting food was often as simple as opening your cabinet doors. People live without having to worry about using their energy stores to hunt. Where success of a hunt or a crop determined whether you and your family survived.
Tyler suspected these hard times were coming again. Things were looking like they were returning to a place where everyone worried about themselves. For now there was more than enough food and water left around to give us a few years to work with, saying those in control of the big supplies allowed it to go at a reasonable cost. Tyler didn’t doubt he’d be able to do what it took to scrounge for enough food and water to survive. He figured it wouldn’t be that much harder to provide for a few others as long as he could provide for himself.
Echoes of Tomorrow Season One: Episode Six (Echoes of Tomorrow: Season One Book 6) Page 1