The After Days Trilogy [Books 1-3]

by Scott Medbury

  While we kept our eyes peeled for any movement or signs of pursuit, we chatted as the truck crawled northward on Park. My earlier assessment of Indigo was only reinforced by our conversation. She was easily the most amazing person I had ever met. I must admit to being a bit jealous that day though, because it became apparent that Indigo understood a lot more of Luke’s video game references than I did. It was also the first time I recall Luke talking about his sister, Rose.

  When his parents divorced four years ago, Rose was five, and the courts split custody ... Luke had stayed with his father, while Rose had gone with their mother to Chicago. Luke even mentioned going to Chicago to find Rose, talking about it like some sort of grand quest in his future. I personally had my doubts about the feasibility of such an undertaking, but could totally understand his urge to try. Talking about her made me think of my family again, and I quickly buried the painful emotions that came with their memory.

  It was lucky I had decided to take the way out of the city at a crawl. Three separate times in the first six or eight blocks of travel along Park Avenue, we had to weave around abandoned vehicles in the road. If we had tried to leave at high speed in the thick fog, we would almost certainly have collided with one of them.

  I thought about the highway turned parking lot back at Fort Carter and I wondered if we would encounter a similar mess when we finally found the freeway entrance from Worcester. I didn’t think so; the Chinese appeared to be much more active in this state and would almost certainly have begun clearing the freeways for their own purposes ... just as they had been clearing the bodies from Warwick using American children as slave labor.

  The silence and the emptiness of the drive through the city was surreal, and I say this as a person for whom everything since Christmas had been surreal. I was finally beginning to feel a little bit better about the prospects of our getting out of there, when we heard them coming through the fog behind us. It was the muffled roar of several motorcycles echoing eerily through the mist-filled streets.

  “I think the Tigers are on our tail again,” Indigo said.

  “An Asian street gang who rides motorcycles?” Luke said, his voice incredulous. “Can you get much more stereotypical?”

  “Stereotypical or not, we could be in trouble,” I said, looking into my side mirror to see if I could make out any shapes in the thick fog behind us. I knew it was useless. They’d be almost on top of us before we would be able to see them. “I’m worried about the guys in the back if they come up behind us.”

  Most of the supplies we were bringing with us had been packed along the outer walls, providing some protection for those inside against shots coming from the sides of the truck. But, for obvious reasons, there was nothing against the back door of the truck. All that stood between the passengers and potential bullets coming from behind was a rolling door that had not been designed to stop them.

  “You could pull off at the next intersection and we could wait for them to pass,” Luke said. “There is no guarantee it’s the Tigers anyway ... how could they realistically be tracking us down in this fog? Either they are following a likely escape route and hoping to get lucky, or the motorbikes are just somebody else trying to get the hell out of Dodge under the cover of fog.”

  “It’s them and I think you know it is,” I said. He didn’t argue. “I don’t want to be a sitting duck on the side of the road when they find us. The least we can do is give them a moving target.”

  “I think Luke is right,” Indigo interjected. “Not about it being someone else. It’s the Tigers for sure. But I think we should take a side street and let them pass. We shouldn’t wait too long, though. The fog will hide us for a while, but I think it would be a good idea if we were well out of the city by the time it burns off.”

  I turned right at the next intersection and drove a block before pulling the truck to the side of the street. “Should I shut the truck off?” I asked. I was afraid the rumbling of the engine would carry in the fog just as the roar of the motorcycles did.

  “Can you see the street sign at the corner?” Indigo asked.

  “Just barely, but I can’t make out the street names,” Luke said. “Why don’t you go ahead and shut it down for a few minutes, Isaac? I’m going to hop out and find out what intersection we’re at.”

  “Okay, but be careful.”

  Luke hopped out of the truck and jogged up to the sign post. A couple of minutes later, he was back at the passenger side door. Behind us, I could hear the sound of the motorcycles passing the intersection where we had turned. They had only been about a minute and a half behind us. I was glad I had gone with the majority and let them pass. Luke climbed back into the cab.

  “Foster Street.”

  “Okay, good. I thought we were here, but was a little disoriented because of the fog,” Indigo said. “If we go another block and then turn left, we should be on a street that leads back onto Park.”

  “An alternate route, I like it, man,” Luke said. “We don’t have to sit here and wait that long after all. We can get moving again right away.”

  “That’s the sort of enthusiasm I like to hear,” I said, managing to crack a smile.

  “Enthusiasm nothing,” Indigo giggled. “I think Luke just realized the heater doesn’t work when the truck’s not running.”

  “Well, there is that, too,” Luke said with a grin.

  The street we were travelling on ran parallel to Park Avenue, finally converging with it where it curved around to the northeast. Indigo said we would be going about a mile and a half to two miles on this road, which didn’t seem very far until we factored in the fog and the slow driving speed. At least we didn’t have to share this road with any motorcycles.

  “This kind of reminds me of the set up for an old PC game,” Luke said, his eyes straining against the thick fog around us. “By old, I mean old ... I found it in a box of my dad’s old games and had to run this emulator thing to get it to work on our computer. It started out with a group of people getting lost in a thick fog like this, and getting transported to a magical world.”

  “We should be so lucky,” I said, while steering around a minivan sitting directly in the middle of the street.

  “I don’t know, man,” Luke replied. “That magical world was full of dragons and vampires and other nasty shit. I don’t know how long we’d last there.”

  “That’s a tough choice,” Indigo said. “Dragons and vampires or Tigers and Chinese soldiers. They sound just as bad as each other, if you ask me.”

  “Yeah, I’d probably take a vampire over Chen. He kind of looks like he wants to rip my throat out anyway,” I said.

  “You’re probably right. Maybe he’s in the fog waiting to jump on the truck, and pull you out through the window.”

  It was said lightly, but I shuddered. The empty, fog shrouded streets were creepy, and my unease was compounded by Luke’s very visual remark. I think he sensed my discomfort. “Sorry, all this fog just reminded me of the game, that’s all.”

  “Was it a good game?” I asked.

  “It was pretty good, considering it was ancient and the graphics were pretty weak.”

  We sat unspeaking while the truck crept forward a couple of blocks; it seemed my pensive mood was contagious. There was a question in my mind, but I wasn’t about to raise it in our current situation. I was curious why we hadn’t seen any dead bodies in the streets, just a handful in snow-covered cars.

  I can only assume it was because the virus, the Flu, or whatever the hell it was, was pretty slow-acting on an individual basis. If Alan and Eleanor were any guide, the infected adults had gotten ill 24 hours or so before they died. So it figured most of them would have died indoors, tucked up in bed as their children tried to care for them.

  And the children? One had to assume that the younger ones were probably still locked inside with their dead parents, and the older ones, like us, were holed up waiting for help, or wandering around trying to make their way in this new world. That, or th
ey were already slaves to the Chinese.

  A fresh wave of hatred for the Chinese government washed over me. About what they had done to the families of America. The children. All so that they could have room for their own exploding population and knock off the only other superpower. I made a silent promise to make them pay whenever and wherever I could.

  I noticed a bright spot overhead where the sun was and knew it was just a matter of time before the thick, cloying mist began to burn off. I found myself wondering if we’d make it out of Worcester before that happened.

  “There were some good things about it, I guess,” Luke said, breaking the silence. It took me a moment to realize he was talking about the game again. He continued his previous conversation as though there hadn’t been a pause. “If you could get past the antiquated graphics, some of the quests and dialogue options were pretty fun.”

  “Tell us about it.” I thought Luke’s prattling might be a good way to relieve some of the increasing tension in the cab of the truck. Indigo was sitting stiffly in her seat, obviously on edge.

  “As best I can recall, you created some people to be your adventurers, and when the game started you were guardsmen of some kingdom or other, sent to investigate a mysterious fog.”

  “Guardsman in a kingdom? I thought you said the fog transported you to a magical land in the game,” I said.

  “I did. But you sort of started in one as well; the mist moved you to a different magical land, because when the fog lifts after you go to investigate it, you are in a desert with Egyptian-style monuments, rather than the European-style medieval setting the game starts out with.”

  “Ah, I see,” I said, although in truth I wasn't really paying much attention. I was focused on driving through the fog, but I found the sound of his voice comforting, and thought it might be having the same effect on Indigo.

  “Well, you start out by a hut where this old gypsy woman gives you some clues about where to start your quest to defeat the evil ruler of this desert land,” he said. “As you go, you fight monsters and gain levels making your characters more powerful until you finally throw down the ruler, who is the ancient undead mummy of the last pharaoh or something. Along the way you rescue some people, have to answer a sphinx’s riddle, and explore the catacombs beneath a temple of the god Set.”

  “Sounds exciting,” I replied. “What was the name of the game?”

  “Damned if I remember.”

  “So it was more of an RPG-style game?” Indigo asked. “Most of the games you talk about are fighting games or shooters. I didn't know you liked role-playing games.”

  “I'm an equal opportunity gamer,” Luke responded with a smile. “About the only games I actively avoid are dancing games.”

  “Why? You’d be great at ‘Dance Off Evolution,’” Indigo said with a smile of her own.

  I couldn't tell if she was teasing him or not, but their playful banter was beginning to get on my nerves. I knew that I shouldn't be bothered by it. Was I actually jealous of Luke because Indigo was not teasing me? I hated being teased about anything, always had ... how messed up was it that not being teased was bothering me?

  “You’ve obviously never seen me try to dance,” Luke said. “Anyway, that’s about all there was to the game. It wasn’t very layered, so it didn't take me long to beat it, just a couple of days of playing over spring break a few years back.”

  “I think this is Park Avenue coming up,” Indigo said. “The one crossing this street at an angle. Get ready to make a sharp right turn.”

  “I can see it,” I replied, peering through the soupy mist, seeing the vague outlines of an intersection.

  I put some pressure on the gas and the truck lurched forward. I started to turn the wheel, but when we rounded the corner, I slammed on the brakes and the truck screeched to a halt. There were three motorcycles parked across Park Avenue, blocking the way. An instant later, hell broke loose as the staccato stutter of a submachine gun erupted to our left.

  16

  I could hear the ping of the bullets impacting with my door. My mirror and window were shattered as we ducked down. The paper in the door seemed to hold up and we rode out the storm of bullets until they ceased. Risking a quick peek, I saw two Asian guys in leather jackets walking toward the truck from across the street. Both were busily reloading what looked to my untrained eye like machine pistols. It was like a scene from an action blockbuster.

  “Keep your head down and light me one of those bombs, quick,” I said to Luke.

  He did as I asked with no questions and as soon as it was in my hand I hurled it out through the driver’s window and it clattered to a hissing, spluttering stop a few feet in front of the gunmen. They both looked at it dumbly for a few seconds, probably trying to figure out what it was, before one turned and ran away.

  The other was not so quick and was still within range when it went off. It was louder than I thought it would be. I took advantage of the confusion and gunned the engine as I saw him drop to his knees screaming and holding his face, half his body covered in ink. The other one rushed over to him and began to help him to his feet as the truck rolled over one of the motorcycles with a crunch of twisting metal and breaking glass. I sped off down the street, driving way too fast considering the low visibility condition, and just hoped there was nothing in our way.

  We heard the rattle of machine guns behind us but I don’t think they hit us. Over the rush of cold wind through the windows, we heard the dull roar of motorcycles. Adrenalin was coursing through my veins and my companions were gripping the dashboard. We were all very aware that the next few minutes were crucial. There would be no negotiating with the Tigers if they managed to disable the truck.

  “The Tigers are behind us,” Luke said unnecessarily, looking into the mirror on his side of the truck.

  “How many of them?” I asked, holding back the urge for sarcasm at the obvious remark.

  “Ah, crap,” Indigo said, leaning toward Luke’s side to see the mirror herself. She looked back to me, “All of them.”

  “Yeah, there are a lot of them,” Luke said, racking the slide of the crossbow, a weapon that now suddenly seemed woefully inadequate. “And that's just those that are close enough to see through the fog.”

  He swung himself around so that he was kneeling in the seat facing backwards, and leaned out the window. He tried to brace himself and aim the crossbow at our pursuers, but it wasn’t working well. “I never realized how hard it was to shoot backwards from a moving vehicle. I’ll just waste arrows if I try and fire on them,” he said, pulling back inside.

  “We could throw some more bombs behind us,” Indigo suggested.

  “Worth a shot,” Luke said, grabbing one of the ink bombs from under the seat and pulling his lighter back out of his pocket. “How long do you think I should cook it?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “But don’t let it go off in here or we’re screwed. It’s hard enough to see as it is.”

  “I’ll do my best.” He lit the fuse and waited until the fuse had half burned down and then tossed it out the window. “Damn it,” he said, after the bang sounded behind us. “They were past it by the time it blew.”

  “Try again,” Indigo said. She already had another ink bomb out and ready for him. “I know you’ll get it right this time.”

  There it was again, that jealous twinge. She wasn’t teasing him, just encouraging him, but it still made me knot up a little bit. Really, I’m doing this now? I thought. Get over yourself, Isaac. It doesn’t mean anything. “How close are they?” I asked.

  “About a truck length back,” Luke replied.

  “Let it burn down to a quarter of an inch and then drop it,” I said, thinking about how much time it had taken to blow with a half-inch of fuse left when I’d thrown it at the gunmen. “Drop it out your window, don’t throw it at them. Let them come to it.”

  “Okay,” he said, as he lit the next fuse.

  He let it burn down a ways and then dropped it out the wind
ow. This time, the bang was louder and accompanied by the sounds of screeching tires and scraping metal.

  “Oh, yeah!” he said, glancing at us. He was positively beaming. “One of the bikes went into a slide and two others hit it. The rest have slowed down and fallen back into the fog,” he reported excitedly.

  I kept the gas pedal down as far as I dared, only having to swerve once to avoid a car in the middle of the road, barely missing it as it appeared unexpectedly out of the fog. We could still hear the motorcycles following us, but they remained hidden in the roiling white emptiness behind the truck. I asked Indigo how far it was until we reached the freeway.

  “You’re bleeding, Isaac,” she said.

  “What?”

  “You’re bleeding, from your cheek,” she watched as I reached up to my cheek, and felt ... nothing. “Your other cheek.”

  I put my hand to my other cheek. It was wet. Wet and cold. It felt like I had ice on my cheek and I realized the wind whipping through my broken out window must have frozen the blood to my face. I felt a ragged line above the frozen blood, and almost instantly my cheek started aching. The adrenalin had let me forge ahead without even realizing I was hurt but, now that I knew, my cheek made sure I was feeling it.

  “I hope it’s not too bad,” I said.

  “It looks like some flying glass cut you. Probably when the window was shot in,” Indigo said. “I’ll look it over for you when we get a chance to stop for a while.”

  “You could end up with a bad ass scar there, Chief,” Luke said, looking across the cab at my wound. He almost sounded envious.

  “I don’t really want a scar on my face, bad ass or otherwise,” I said.

  “Man, I am kind of surprised to hear you say that. Haven’t you figured out by now we all have scars? Some of us on the outside, some on the inside, and some of us inside and out, but the one thing we all have in common is scar tissue.”

  “Is that from a game?” Indigo asked him.