Aftermath (Book 0): Aftermath

by Donovan, J. S.

  Leaving the car running, Calvin burst out of the driver-side door and approached the flaming building. He raced for the door but stopped short. He backed up a few steps and rubbed both of his hands up his scalp. He turned to Naomi. His face was long, hopeless, defeated. More than just the half a million they sank into the property seven years ago, they’d lost all their furniture, computers, and priceless family photos.

  Naomi gingerly stepped out of the Rover and dragged her feet to Calvin. Her entire body felt like jelly and seemed to move by itself. Tears streamed down Calvin’s pale cheeks as he gazed up at the flaming house. Naomi felt dead inside as the fire’s heat radiated against her skin. The whole day felt like a lucid dream.

  “What now?” Trinity asked. Naomi didn’t realize that she’d been standing next to them. The window jostled her long hair, brushing against her downcast face.

  “Pray,” Naomi mumbled.

  Calvin frowned heavier. “I don’t think He’s on our side.”

  The words cut into Naomi’s heart.

  Saying nothing more, Calvin returned to the Land Rover.

  Trinity looked to her mother for guidance. “Who would do this?”

  Naomi put an arm around her. Despite the fighting moments ago, Trinity rested her head on Naomi’s shoulder.

  After a sobering moment, they headed back to the Rover, leaving their old life in the flaming pillar behind them.

  Calvin fished through the glove box and middle console before clenching both hands into white knuckled fists and shaking in rage. He punched the steering wheel, bonking the horn. “No map,” he said to Naomi.

  “We’ll get one at the rest stop.”

  Calvin rolled forward, distancing himself from the burning building. A silhouette stepped out from the nearby alley. He lit a cigarette and took a long drag. Naomi’s pulse quickened as she saw him shrink in the rearview.

  At once, she knew the culprit.

  Her patient Mason.

  Calvin turned the corner, ending Naomi’s view of her unstable patient. She twisted back to look over the back seat and steal a final peek through the window. Too late. Naomi opened her mouth to tell Calvin but found the words lodged in her throat. Drained, she twisted back to a normal sitting position. Calvin looked at her, a question in his eyes. Ninety percent wanted to tell him to turn back. But what good would come of it? What would it accomplish? Battles were worth having when there was something worth saving. Vengeance would only waste time. Naomi just wanted to get out of this city.

  Naomi’s parents and brother lived outside of Linville, Virginia. I-95 was the quickest way there. It went without saying that the interstate wasn’t an option. The EMP hit at rush hour. Even driving on the outside of the lines would prove troublesome. To the east was I-295 that passed through New Jersey. To the west was I-76 that branched into I-81. Both of those options had the same problem of all the interstates. If they just went completely south, they’d hit Wilmington. Going through another city wasn’t an option either.

  No matter what, they’d have to pass by Washington D.C. and Baltimore. Unless if they cut west and then south. Off the top of her head, Naomi knew that meant going through Lancaster and York, but those wouldn’t be as troubling as the alternatives. She laid out the options and asked, “Thoughts?”

  Calvin groaned. “I just want to focus on getting out.”

  “This is important, Calvin. Where we exit could be the difference between backtracking and stress free.”

  “Stress free?” Calvin chuckled.

  Naomi glared.

  He slouched in his seat. “Fine. We’ll exit west.”

  “Where at?”

  “Cobbs Creek,” Calvin said, getting annoyed.

  Naomi knew of Cobbs, but Calvin was far more familiar with the city. “Which road?”

  “Whichever is easiest.”

  Shaking her head in disbelief, Naomi turned her eyes to the road in front of her.

  Calvin noticed. He sighed. “Baltimore Ave, Market Street, or one of the smaller roads if we can find them.”

  “Thank you,” Naomi replied.

  Under heavy snowfall, constant debris, and no need to rush, they cruised through the city, not wanting to damage the tires in any way. If they stuck to Pine St. and then to Chestnut, they would be there in forty minutes. However, both of those roads were cluttered to all hell. It had been a while since they’d seen any of the terrorist gunmen, but they assumed the smaller, lesser-traveled roads were a safer pick.

  They drove the wrong way on Bienbridge St., a single-lane road lined with clustered row houses. People rushed out of their front doors and yelled at the Rover. They waved their hands and tried to get Calvin’s attention. He kept his eyes forward and his heart stone.

  They moved into the center of Philly. The Comcast Cower, Liberty Place, and Mellon Bank towered over the city like black spires. They navigated the streets, eventually coming up to a street with a few disabled cars. It seemed like a godsend at first, until a few lights flickered on up ahead. Made of plastic and wooden barriers, a barricade stretched from a building on the left to a building on the right. A small squadron of officers, all openly armed with tactical shotguns, pistols, and stubby assault weapons, stood behind the barriers and gestured for Calvin to approach. Hand-cranked lanterns sat on top of their plastic barricade and cast a cool glow over the officers. The window ruffled their jackets and the snow fell against their hardened faces.

  Calvin glowered at them as he rolled to a stop eight yards away. He kept the gear in Drive and relocked the doors.

  “We should find a better way around,” Naomi said. Something about this didn’t feel right. Usually, the presence of police officers made her comfortable. Now, she only felt intimidated.

  “They might know the best way out,” Calvin said, convincing himself that stopping was the right option. Two of the officers approached. The rest stood guard behind the barricade. The one that neared the window chewed a piece of gum and wore a police-issue leather biking jacket with all the proper insignias. The officer was dark-skinned and serious. He held the lantern while the biker cop kept his hand on his holstered gun.

  He knocked on the glass with the back of his knuckles. Calvin rolled his window halfway down.

  The biker officer glanced around inside. “Strange to see someone driving around. Especially this late.”

  “I’m looking for the best way out of the city, Officer,” Calvin said with a weary smile. “I was wondering if you could point the way.”

  The officer didn’t reply. The dark-skinned one gestured to some of the scraped paint and bullet holes. “Rough trip?”

  “Rough day.” Calvin said soberly. “These are my wife and daughter. I’m trying to get to my brother-in-law’s house.”

  “The police have ordered that everyone stay in their homes,” the biker cop said, taking a moment to chew his gum.

  “Must have missed the broadcast,” Calvin replied. “And our house just burned down.”

  The two officers traded looks. The ones at the barricade watched in silence.

  Calvin continued, “We want to get out of here before things get worse.”

  The second officer shined the lantern light through the window. He glanced around the interior, bouncing his eyes between Trinity, Naomi, and finally ending on the loose wires hanging from the dash. Biker Cop noticed too. He locked eyes with Calvin. “I’m going to have to ask you to step out of the vehicle.”

  Naomi’s chest tightened. “Officer, we didn’t steal this car.”

  She opened up the glove box and quickly removed the paperwork. Calvin took it and handed the officer the registration and insurance papers along with his license. Keeping his eyes on Calvin, he held out the documents so the other officer with the light could read them.

  “Checks out,” the second officer said.

  “So can you help me?” Calvin persisted.

  The first officer handed the papers to the second. “Please step out of the vehicle, sir.”

&nbs
p; “What?” Cal replied.

  The officer glared at him. “Step out of the vehicle. Your wife and kid, too.”

  “Officer, there must be some misunderstanding,” Cal said wearily.

  The officer clasped his holstered pistol. “I will not ask again.

  Calvin looked back at Naomi. Naomi and Trinity were silent, waiting to see what he would do. Calvin stared down the officer. “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t do that.”

  The officer reared his head back and gestured for the other officers. They pushed open the barricade slightly and started toward the Rover.

  Naomi’s breath quickened. They’d be upon them soon.

  Calvin, eyes watering, sucked air through his teeth as the reinforcements got closer.

  “You will step out now,” the officer said. “We are confiscating this vehicle for--"

  Cal stomped on the gas pedal. The Rover raced forward. The officers dived out of the way as the vehicle bounced up the sidewalk and smashed through the barricade.

  The police shouted and aimed their weapons.

  “Trinity, stay down!” Naomi yelled as the police opened fire.

  Their bullets pelted the back bumper and narrowly missed the tire.

  Within seconds, the cops were out of view and the Baxters could breathe again.

  Trinity looked out the back window. “I can’t believe you actually did that.”

  Cal took a breath. “Neither can I.”

  Naomi felt her heart racing. “No more stops.”

  They all agreed on that.

  They crossed the River and passed by the University of Pennsylvania. Abandoned volunteer tents scattered the yard. Snow started to cover piles of trash cleared from the road. No students or professors could be seen. The university buildings were blacked out. The Rover’s bright lights shined over the bullet holes in the window. Cal’s and Naomi’s expressions turned sour as they drove by, committed to saving their own.

  They kept going west, passing by more looted stores and houses in nice neighborhoods. Vandals had spray-painted road signs and cars. Other had smashed parking meters for the quarters inside.

  They started toward a small road called Whitby Avenue, knowing that it crossed the Cobb. As they approached, they saw multiple 1980s diesel trucks making a horizontal line across the bridge. Cal started to slow down. He traded confused looks with Naomi. Instead of wasting their time, they started going north again, to Baltimore Avenue. The bridge was blocked as well. As they pulled closer, muzzle flashes blinked out the windows of the truck. Bullets zipped by. Calvin quickly got them out of there.

  “What the hell was that?” he exclaimed.

  Naomi didn’t know. She didn’t want to know. “Just find us a way out.”

  The next bridge was Marshal Road. There weren’t any shooters, but there was a massive pile-up that would make it impossible to pass. They traveled 63rd Street. It proved to be cluttered and troublesome to travel. They were forced to weave by disabled cars, avoid sharp debris, and had to bump up on the sidewalk a few times.

  Their morale was dropping more and more with every stretch of road. Naomi wondered if they’d made a huge mistake until they reached Market Street. With four lanes separated by a cement barrier, it was the widest of the streets. The metro track bridge rose above the whole length. Thick foliage grew out on either side of the bridge. In the winter, it looked dead and cluttered. Disabled cars parked all up and down Market Street, which ran all the way to the other side of Philadelphia. However, one side of the bridge looked manageable. As they neared the bridge--which was toward the left of them--Cal turned off the headlights and slowed their speed. The vehicle still rumbled, but at least no would spot them from a distance. They neared the bridge. Naomi saw movement in the dark. She grabbed Cal’s arm. “Stop,” she said with a harsh whisper.

  He pulled to a stop behind a disabled van. “What?”

  “Shh.” Naomi scanned the dark city, keeping an eye on the bridge. She saw movement again about forty yards from the bridge. “Turn off the car.”

  Cal did so. The engine silenced.

  Naomi pointed to Market Street before the bridge. Hiding behind a few disabled cars was a small group of armed people. They looked like black blobs when they weren’t moving, but one periodically lit a match. It illuminated his stubbled face and heavy turtleneck.

  Trinity leaned between the driver and passenger seat. “That’s Conner, Becca’s uncle.”

  Naomi recognized him from their brief encounter at the Devil’s Pocket. He held a standard pump action shotgun that anyone could buy at a hunting outlet. The other shapes moved too, revealing themselves to be the tall and leathery-faced man Dean, Sean, and Cathleen along with bundled-up sixteen-year-old Becca pushing her grandfather’s wheelchair. The old man was wrapped up in so many layers he looked like a ball of fabric. The scarf covering his mouth and nose billowed in the wind.

  “I guess they were serious about leaving,” Naomi remarked as she watched them advance towards the bridge.

  Trinity bounced her eyes between them nervously. “We need to help them. Come on, Mom. Dad. Please. We have room. This thing fits eight, right, Dad?”

  “Trinity, please be quiet,” Calvin said.

  “First you leave Greg and now you’re going to leave Becca?”

  The words convicted Naomi. What sort of example was she showing her daughter when she didn’t help in a time of crisis? She knew it was important to look out for family, but what about others? Calvin turned to Naomi. “We have very few food rations as is. If we have to sort them, too…”

  Naomi gave him a look.

  “I’m just being practical,” Calvin explained. “The law is dead. Our family’s survival is number one right now. And after all the crap people gave us today, I’m fine with that.”

  “This is Becca we’re talking about,” Trinity argued.

  The girl made a good point. This wasn’t just some stranger begging for a ride. This was a family/friend. Despite the trouble she got Trinity into today, that didn’t change the fact that they had shared laughs and meals. It hadn’t even been sixteen hours since the EMP went off. Was society and human decency really dead this soon?

  Just as Naomi was about to voice her answer, gunfire erupted and sent fear into her core. One of the Ryans took a hit and went down screaming. It sounded like Sean.

  More gunfire erupted.

  Naomi spotted muzzle flashes on the bridge. The shooters had taken cover behind various cars. Conner shot back at them while Dean ran to pick up Sean. Cathleen screamed hysterically.

  “Do something, Dad!” Trinity yelled.

  Bullets pelted the car where Becca had taken cover. Keeping her head low, Becca took ahold of her grandfather’s wheelchair and started to retreat.

  Calvin watched in horror. Naomi grabbed his arm. They locked eyes. “We need to do something.”

  “We don’t have weapons.”

  “We have the Rover.”

  “This is a bad idea,” Cal said, but turned the key ignition nonetheless.

  With Dean supporting Sean under the armpit, they retreated down Market Street and out of sight.

  Naomi and Cal didn’t move.

  The gunfire died down. Six men rose up on the bridge and advanced. They wore all black with head covers. They were jihadists. They clenched their rifles and, like shadows, stealthily slipped between dead cars and followed after the Ryans.

  Calvin exhaled deeply. Naomi covered her mouth. Trinity was speechless.

  “You still want to go after them?” Calvin asked.

  Naomi’s mouth dried out with fear. A heavy pit formed in her stomach. Up ahead, the bridge was quiet and possibly vacant. Naomi looked at her family and opened her mouth to speak.

  8

  11:00 P.M

  Keeping the headlights off, Cal crept the Rover forward. They reached the intersection at Market Street and Cal turned off the engine. In anxious silence, they scanned both sides. To the left was the four-lane bridge separated by a concrete div
ide. Leafless trees sprouted out from underneath it. Disabled vehicles littered the path, but with some finesse, they could navigate it and escape Philly. The right side of the street stretched for miles across the city with a metro track suspended above. The Ryans ran that way.

  “Mom,” Trinity said quietly. She pointed out the window to the bridge side.

  Slanted snowfall glazed the tops of cars and trucks. Naomi leaned over Cal’s seat to get a closer look. Then she saw it. A rifleman supported his weapon on the hood of a car. Another was seated in the bed of a pick-up. A third was stationed behind an open car door with his barrel jutting through the busted window. Naomi buried her teeth into her lip.

  “We’re not going to be able to get over that bridge,” Calvin whispered.

  “Let’s worry about getting Becca first,” Naomi said.

  “It won’t do us much good if we can’t get across,” Calvin pointed out.

  “What if we distract them?” Trinity suggested.

  Naomi thought on it. “How?”

  “I don’t know,” Trinity replied.

  “We’ll need to draw them off the bridge,” Naomi said. She felt like a kid again, playing army with her brother.

  Calvin nodded. “We only need enough time to get the Rover across.”

  The conversation lulled into silence as they thought independently.

  Taking a deep breath, Calvin said. “I’ll draw the fire.”

  “Cal, that’s--”

  “Stupid, idiotic, impulsive?” Calvin answered for her. He hardened his resolve. “Once I get them off the bridge, the two of you need to go.”

  “What about you?” Trinity’s voice cracked.

  “I’ll find my own way,” Calvin replied. “Just don’t go too far.”

  Naomi took his cold hand in hers. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “What sort of man would I be if I didn’t? And don’t say a living one,” Calvin replied.

  Naomi kissed him. “I’m going to get Becca.” Naomi twisted around to face Trinity. “Stay here. Make sure no one gets into the car without one of us present. Got it?”