PRIMAL SHIFT
Episode 2
Copyright © 2013 Griffin Hayes
Cover design by Griffin Hayes
Edited by Andrea Harding
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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PRIMAL SHIFT
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PRIMAL SHIFT
The apocalypse strikes without warning. A mysterious geomagnetic event that sweeps the globe, leaving a powerful amnesia in its wake.
In the blink of an eye, the human race is robbed of the most basic skills learned in childhood: reading, writing and the ability to speak. Civilization crumbles, plunging the world into an age of unparalleled barbarism.
From the ashes emerge a handful of survivors, largely unaffected by the change. Alone, they must brave a dangerous and chaotic world in order to reach the only known refuge: a camp set in the foothills of Salt Lake City, Utah. There lies food, shelter and maybe even answers.
But standing between them and safety is more than bands of armed thugs and bloodthirsty cannibals. A new evil is gathering. One that’s eager to destroy the last vestiges of life on earth and finish what it started, once and for all.
In the last episode of Primal Shift the survivors struggled to piece together the full devastating impact of a natural disaster that changed the world in an instant.
After escaping from the solar plant, Finn stopped at a local Nevada Joe's on his way to Las Vegas and discovered a disturbing scene of violence and a woman he shared an unexplained connection with.
In San Francisco, Dana Hatfield saw her fellow Coast Guard sailors seemingly lose their minds in the blink of an eye. After narrowly escaping bodies raining down around her from the Golden Gate Bridge, she hurried back to Fort Baker where she found the station in turmoil. Not long after, she found her CO dead and discovered she may be alone with his killer.
Carole Cartright’s world was turned upside down when a family flight to Dallas skidded off the runway and crashed. After failing to save her husband from the wreckage, Carole discovered that her daughter Nikki appears to be suffering from amnesia. Together with her son and another survivor named Alice, the group made their way back to the airport looking for help, only to be faced with even greater danger.
CEO of Nutrilife, Larry Nowak, escaped from the ruins of his company headquarters in New York the only way he knew how: by sacrificing the life of another so that he could live. But soon he realized that things outside were far worse than he expected and that escaping the city was his only hope for survival.
Finn
Nevada desert. Route 95.
Finn engaged the cruise control, heading toward Las Vegas along Route 95. The early morning sun was low over the mountains and directly in his eyes, mingling with the strange lights still overhead. He removed the shades from the pocket of his coverall, flicked them open and slid them on. Las Vegas was still two hours away and once his brain stopped feeling as if the sun’s rays were poking it with hot needles, he could at least go over what had happened last night in his mind.
Jackson was kind and had allowed him to stay the night at Nevada Joe’s. He’d spent some of that time trying to question Betsey about the image she’d doodled on that scrap of paper, that same image he’d been seeing floating in his head these last 24 hours, but soon enough, he realized there wasn’t any point.
She was blank, just like everyone else.
Her gaze had followed him and Jackson as they tossed around theories of what had happened, but in the end, she still couldn’t communicate in any meaningful way. A few times Finn and Jackson heard her make grunting noises, like an ape, and their eyes had grown wide with hope. Then hope had turned to despair. If she was speaking a language, it was one they didn’t understand.
He left first thing in the morning, stocked with a day’s worth of provisions and a map of Las Vegas, so he’d at least have a clue where the hell he was going. The shades, taken from the dead Tevatron worker killed with the scattergun, had been Jackson’s final gift. Before he hit the road, Finn had emptied the gas from another car. The long, isolated stretch he’d be driving wasn’t somewhere he wanted to run dry. His offer to bring Jackson and Betsy along fell on deaf, mostly stubborn, ears.
“Nevada Joe’s is all I own in what’s left of the world and I’ll be damned if I’ll let a bunch of looters come and strip her clean.”
Finn was secretly sure that Jackson was determined to wait until the government got things back under control. Didn’t matter to him that neither of them had been able to contact another living soul since whatever it was that had happened, happened.
Above all else, getting to Tevatron’s regional office was first and foremost on Finn’s mind. He hadn’t forgotten that; not yet, at least.
He whipped by an abandoned car. The driver’s side door was ajar, but no one was home.
That was a good enough analogy to describe how he felt right now, a single notch up from babbling Betsy back at Nevada Joe’s. He could speak, thank God, and remembered how to drive a car and wipe his ass, but that was about it. The memories would return soon enough, or at least he hoped they would. Maybe the sight of Sin City would rattle something loose in the old coffee can.
Las Vegas was a funny place. Out in the middle of the desert, you might think it would be visible from miles away, like an oasis, but that wasn’t how it was. It was flat and rather drab. Subdivisions flickered by on both sides, filled with rows of homes and who knows what else lurking inside; hiding, waiting, maybe even killing.
The real indication he was getting close to his destination was the increased number of abandoned wrecks along the highway. In one was a body; an elderly man, who’d stayed in his car after the earthquake and more than likely roasted himself alive in the heat.
Finn took a swig of water and then pumped the brake, slowing the Land Rover to a crawl.
He cursed.
Ahead lay a tangle of cars. There’d been a pile up, the mess forming an impassable barrier across the highway. There also wasn’t much chance of jumping the curb and going around, especially given the two concrete barriers that were hemming him in on either side.
He kicked the truck into reverse and turned around. The thought of driving in the wrong direction on a highway made his guts twist into knots, but he was nearly positive a head on collision wasn’t a real danger, not anymore, especially given that he hadn’t seen any traffic since he’d left the plant.
He went back to the Durango Drive exit and realized things were even worse there.
The big ass SUV he’d acquired wasn’t suited to cruising through a city jammed with abandoned cars. He pulled the truck to a stop when he saw the bodies. One of them lay on the road, depressed in the center with a perfect tire track. Others were scattered in an open field to his right, as though after escaping from their cars, they’d wandered aimlessly until the scorching sun had worn them down.
Which brought up a point he hadn’t given all that much thought to before. Had these people really gone crazy, or had their minds simply been wiped clean? He’d tried for over an hour to speak with Betsy without a shred of luck. What would have happened to her, he wondered, if she’d been driving when the world had been turned upside down? What of all the people who were prepping for the holiday weekend when everything they knew was torn from their mind? If Betsy had forgotten how to speak or use the bathroom, then
she certainly couldn’t have operated a car. Whatever had happened had turned people into children, which sent an uncharacteristic chill up Finn’s arms. Children could be sweet and innocent, but they could also be harsh and cruel. They hadn’t yet learned the difference between right and wrong. Their only compass was raw emotion and the clawing, never ending needs of the body. Hunger, shelter from the elements and the willingness to take another life if it meant saving their own. The thought was a frightening one. And then something else occurred to Finn which froze the very blood in his veins. What if this natural disaster, for lack of a better term, went beyond the state of Nevada? If the entire country, or even the world, had been affected, then millions, no billions, would die. But there was more, wasn’t there? The ones who came out on top wouldn’t be like the others he’d seen so far, weak and already half dead. No, this new breed was sure to display the kind of unbridled ferocity that only Mother Nature could produce.
Finn was about to back up again and take his chances elsewhere, when he spotted a motorbike up ahead. It looked like a Kawasaki Ninja, leaning against the guardrail, almost begging him to hop on. It wouldn’t protect him from the heat or from anyone who decided to take a swipe at him, but it might be the only way of getting to Tevatron to find the answers he needed.
Dana Hatfield
Coast Guard Station, Fort Baker, Golden Gate
Dana awoke with a start. She'd locked herself in the CO's private quarters shortly after the sun went down. The SIG 229R sagged in her hands. She’d been holding the pistol all night, more than ready, able and willing to blow away anyone who tried to get in. She stood and the joints in her knees popped. The horrible taste in her mouth wouldn’t go away, no matter how many times she swallowed. Gun at the ready, she crept to the door and inched it open a crack so she could peek outside.
The hallway that led to the radio room was empty. The blood on the floor was still there and the sight of it brought back yesterday’s horrors in a fresh wave of pain. She’d made Alvarez dig a grave for Keiths and Nash at gunpoint and had locked him in the brig after he finished. There was still no sign of the others they’d locked in the conference room after the change. Nash had been among them and when he got out, or when he was let out, they'd all broken free.
Dana went to the mess hall, grabbed a few day-old muffins wrapped in cellophane and made her way to the brig.
A lot of things about Keiths’ death didn't sit well with her and one of those in particular stood out. Keiths’ pistol was still in its holster when she’d arrived. If Alvarez had killed the CO, then why hadn’t he taken the man's gun? Unless Nash really had attacked Keiths and Al had fought and killed him in the process of saving his own life.
Dana reached the brig and found Alvarez crouched in the corner of his cell. He didn’t seem nearly as defiant as he’d been the night before.
"You know I didn't do it," he said. “I can see the doubt in your eyes.”
Dana stayed quiet.
“So what you gonna do with me?”
She tossed him a muffin. “First things first, eat; then I'll decide whether to shoot you or not.”
“This might be my last meal then. That what you’re saying?”
“Might be.” Her features were hard, difficult to read.
“If I knew that I woulda ordered a Big Mac, large fries and a strawberry shake.” Al gave her a weak smile.
“I'm sure you would.”
She left the room, letting him stew while she tried to figure out her next move. There was still no word from the big cheeses back at the Department of Homeland Security, nor had Dana heard anything like the sound of sirens she’d been praying for. A sound that would have signalled the closest thing to hope she’d felt in a while.
For a brief moment that morning, as her eyes had sprung open to the soft light creeping in through Keiths’ window, she had thought the entire thing had been nothing more than a terrible dream. Her heart had soared, before it came crashing back to Earth with the realization she’d been wrong. This was it. Hell on Earth and there was no way to escape it, except through death. The thought of dying made her think of her father. Was he at home, waiting for help? Her help? Was he even still alive?
The family lived in a semi-detached in Bernal Heights. Avoiding the Golden Gate was a no brainer, especially after the terrible carnage she’d witnessed there. She would take the MLB, loop around the downtown district and tie the boat at Pier 42. From there, she’d make her way to Bernal Heights and with any luck find her father, alive and waiting. However, there was one hitch.
What would she do with Alvarez?
If something happened to her on the way and she couldn’t make it back, if she were somehow killed, then he’d stay locked in that cell until he starved to death. On the other hand, if he had killed Keiths to avoid being court marshalled, then what would stop him from getting rid of her the moment her back was turned?
Alvarez was playing sweet right now. She’d never known him to utter a single sentence to her that wasn’t laced with sexist profanity. Even she could smell what he was up to. He was trying to get on her good side, buttering her up, biding his time until he found an opportunity to make his move. There was a chance she was wrong of course; Dana knew that as well as anyone, but gambling with her life wasn’t a risk she was willing to take.
She spent the next hour gathering up as much gear as she could carry and stuffing it all into a rucksack. Water, MREs, a box of .40s for the SIG and three extra magazines that she loaded and stored in the belt that held her holster. As far as she was concerned, this was a quick trip. Grab her father and a few things from the house and head back to Fort Baker. She’d seen the news after hurricane Katrina had turned New Orleans into a crime ridden cesspool. The pistol was a no brainer, but going in armed to the teeth like dirty Harry seemed counter productive, especially given she’d be walking uphill most of the way after she made landfall.
At double time, she hurried back to the mess hall and assembled a tray full of canned goods and a jug with a gallon of water.
Alvarez was standing now, leaning against the bars with his forehead when she arrived. He looked up and his face dropped when he saw the backpack she was carrying.
“You’re bugging out, aren’t you?”
She laid the food on the floor before his cell. Included was a can opener. The bigger cans couldn’t fit between the bars, but with a bit of effort he could manage.
“I won’t be gone long.”
“Fucking kidding me? Something happens to you and I’m a dead man. Tell me you’re just messing with me?”
Didn’t take a psych major to see Alvarez was shitting his pants.
“I’m doing this for your own protection. Rogers is still out there somewhere. He and Nash weren’t the only ones who put up a fight when we rounded them up yesterday.”
“Yeah, I don’t buy it. You just gonna leave me here to die, aren’t you?”
Dana didn’t answer.
Alvarez was pacing his cell now, holding his head as though his very skull were about to explode.
“I didn’t touch Keiths, you gotta believe me.”
“I do,” she lied.
“So then let me out.”
“I will, when I get back.”
“And if you don’t make it?”
Dana hesitated. “I will make it.”
Alvarez was shaking his head in disbelief, his eyes alive with fear.
After a deep sigh, Dana removed the keys to the cell and laid them on the desk by the radio. Too far by several feet for Alvarez to reach an arm out and snag them.
“I’ll leave these here. If help comes while I’m gone, or I don’t come back, they can let you out. I’m leaving a note that’ll explain everything.”
“Ah, great, she’s leaving a fucking note. I knew you were a bitch the second I laid eyes on you, Hatfield.”
The hand holding the keys stopped an inch before laying them down. She was about to change her mind and leave him to rot. He must have read
the thought in her eyes.
He was blinking away tears. “Please, don’t do this.”
Dana plopped down the keys and scratched a few words on a torn scrap of paper.
To whom it may concern,
The man in this cell is named Alvarez and I’ve locked him away for murdering the base commander Robert Keiths. If I fail to return, do with him as you wish.
Signed,
Dana Hatfield, Seaman Apprentice
Less than ten minutes later, Alvarez’s angry pleas still echoing in her head, she was onboard the MLB. Coons was long gone, herded in by Alvarez the day before only to escape when Keiths was killed.
She was backing the boat out when she saw them. Six bodies in blue CG uniforms, rolling up against the end of the dock like drift wood. One of them was face up, his face swollen and discolored. The name on his chest read Coons. Dana closed her eyes tightly, hoping that when she opened them again, the bodies would morph into something far less horrific. Her eyes opened and the corpses were still there, bobbing gently with the waves.
Must have ran into the water and drowned, just as Stratton and Stokes had.
It was as if people had lost all common sense. Those sacred rules they’d all learned as children.
Stay away from that stove, it’ll burn you!
Don’t play in traffic!
Keep away from the edge of the pool!
The mistakes that hadn’t resulted in death helped to form a new awareness of dangers that seemed to lurk behind every corner. Dana recalled those people who had jumped off the bridge yesterday. Or had they stepped off, without fully understanding the consequences, the way young children seemed to do, as if they had a sort of death wish?
She was careful not to get the bodies of her fallen sailors caught in the props as she backed away and straightened out. An image of her father came to her then, arms outstretched, his normally chubby face gaunt and pleading. He was sitting in his favourite chair parked in the front of the flat screen TV she’d recently bought him, his clothes dangling about him like loose rags. She opened the throttle all the way and held on as the boat powered through the choppy water.
Primal Shift: Episode 2 Page 1