End Days Super Boxset

by Hayden, Roger

  Edwin stood motionless as Paul continued.

  “Do you see that? It’s a mushroom cloud. Have you ever seen anything like that in your life? I mean, actually in the sky in front of you, not in some movie?”

  Edwin casually turned his head and looked to the sky behind him. The visual spectacle momentarily gained his attention.

  “Do you think that maybe there are some things going on right now a little more important than Bill and the money he owes you?” Paul asked.

  Edwin looked back to Paul. “Seen plenty of clouds in my day. Looks like a thunderstorm.”

  Paul shook his head in disbelief.

  “A thunderstorm? Are you out of your mind? See the people running to their cars? Look at this parking lot, it’s mass pandemonium.”

  Edwin moved his hand towards the pistol underneath his suit coat. “I guess we should go somewhere safe then,” he said.

  Paul held up his cell phone.

  “I’m calling the police.”

  Ed pulled his pistol from its holster and held it to the window.

  “Put the phone down and get out of the car.”

  Paul froze and glanced in the rearview mirror. The blue Lincoln was still idling there, with Greg patiently waiting behind the wheel.

  “Just take it easy,” Paul said, holding his arms up. “Don’t do anything sudden or rash.”

  “I don’t plan to as long as you cooperate,” Edwin said.

  Paul opened the door and stepped out the car, still holding his cell phone.

  “Lose the phone,” Edwin said.

  “I need to be able to talk to my daughter,” Paul said.

  “She—”

  Before he could finish, Edwin swiped Paul’s phone from his hand. Paul looked at Edwin in surprise. He had never witnessed such brazen hostility before. Paul looked at the inside of the Lincoln. A chilling feeling told him that if he were to get in the car, he would never come back. He felt resistance like when two magnets of the same side pushed each other away. There were still plenty of people around, but that wouldn’t be the case if he got in the car. Paul searched his mind for stall tactics.

  “Let me ask you one thing before we go,” Paul said.

  “What is it?”

  “Where do you guys buy your suits?” Paul asked.

  Edwin laughed. “No place from around here, I can assure you.”

  “You should consider a more casual look next time. Something less conspicuous,” Paul said.

  “Thanks for the fashion tip,” Edwin said, opening the passenger side door. “Now get in the front.”

  “I mean, if I were going to dress up like a mobster—”

  Edwin held the gun to Paul’s chest. “Shut your mouth and get in.”

  Edwin observed the hurried frenzy of people trying to leave. Suddenly, a car honked at them. A line of cars had formed behind the blue Lincoln. Cars had filled the opposite lane, preventing anyone from passing. Edwin was momentarily distracted by the commotion and irritated by the incessant blaring of several horns.

  “Get in,” he demanded, tucking the Beretta out of sight.

  He tried to threaten Paul further when an especially loud car horn covered his words. Paul turned and saw a middle-aged man at the wheel of a Ford Explorer SUV behind them. A woman similar to the man’s age was in the passenger seat. Her hand was on his shoulder, trying to calm him down. In the back were two young boys. Edwin pushed Paul towards the inside of the car. His other hand firmly gripped the pistol. Paul grabbed the roof of the Lincoln and latched on to it in resistance.

  The driver of the SUV stuck his head out the window.

  “Hey, move it already, will ya’?” he demanded.

  Edwin shifted his glare towards the angry man. He held up his hand, demanding patience. Edwin was distracted between Paul and the man behind them. He got within inches of Paul’s face.

  “GET IN or I’ll shoot you right here and leave you for dead,” he said with his teeth clenched.

  His breath smelled like coffee, and spittle from his mouth flew onto Paul. It was now or never. Paul looked back to the man in the SUV. The man took off his seatbelt and tossed it behind his shoulder. His wife’s hand gripped his shoulder as if trying to keep him in the vehicle. Paul felt Edwin’s pistol against his ribs. To the casual observer, Edwin and Paul were so close they looked like lovers about to embrace. The man held down the horn again without any regard. He paused for a moment and stuck his head out the window again.

  “Get a room or get the fuck out of my way!” he shouted.

  The light pink complexion of the man’s face had turned a glaring red. Edwin’s pistol jabbed Paul’s side, but Paul continued to resist. Greg grew increasingly frustrated.

  “Just get him in the car already,” he said to Edwin.

  “Shut the hell up. Be ready to drive,” Edwin snapped back.

  The man’s horn sounded again. Greg caressed the temples of his forehead then swung open his car door and stepped out. “Hey, go fuck yourself,” he shouted to the SUV man while giving him the finger.

  The SUV man released his horn and stormed out of the vehicle in an instant. Edwin gave Paul a quick sucker-punch in the gut, causing him to hunch over with intense pain. It felt like his insides had collapsed. Edwin pushed him into the front seat and slammed the door shut. The SUV man approached Greg with his meaty fists balled. His wife screamed for him to get back in the car.

  “You got something to say to me?” he asked with heated breath against Greg’s face.

  “I told you to go fuck yourself,” Greg replied.

  The man was slightly shorter but stocky and well built. Beads of sweat dripped down from his fresh crew cut. He pushed Greg, taking him off balance and causing him to fall against the side of the Lincoln. Greg quickly recovered and pushed the man back. Edwin vaulted over to the skirmish and separated Greg from the man.

  “Get your dumb ass back in the car,” Edwin demanded.

  Greg was about to charge back but regained his composure.

  “I’m sorry,” Greg said as he opened the car door.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Edwin asked.

  Greg looked at the ground, somewhat ashamed, and climbed back inside.

  “Just move your fucking car,” the SUV man said as if trying to get the last word.

  Edwin rubbed his forehead and turned to the man. “Take a hike, okay?”

  “Excuse me?” the SUV man asked.

  Edwin looked up and laughed. “Does everyone around here suffer from some type of mental deficiency? Don’t worry about it. Just get back in your car.”

  In the passenger seat, Paul sat up, holding his stomach. He looked back to observe the confrontation between Edwin and the SUV man. Greg was distracted as well, but he didn’t dare get out of the car. For him, Edwin had a reputation. He didn’t work very well with others. However, their employer, Mr. Bennett, insisted that their assignment was a two-man job. Paul glided his hand to the latch on the car door and pulled on it slowly. The door creaked open. Greg didn’t take notice. His eyes were plastered to the rearview mirror, watching Edwin and the SUV man. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he placed a hand on his pistol just in case.

  “You think you can come here with your out-of-town plates and push us around? You’re nothing but the usual Jersey trash.”

  “Aw. You’re hurting my feelings,” Edwin said sarcastically as he opened the door to the Lincoln on Greg’s side.

  The man then spit on their car, nearly hitting Edwin. Edwin stopped and held his forehead, trying to resist his creeping tendencies towards violence.

  “Trash,” the man repeated.

  Edwin couldn’t resist. He walked right at the man with building rage.

  “You’re lucky I don’t kill you and your entire family right here and now,” he said.

  In response, the SUV man punched Edwin squarely in his face. The blow caused Edwin to drop Paul’s phone as he stumbled backwards. The cell phone struck the hard pavement. His fedora
floated in the air and landed on the ground. Edwin felt his face while blood dripped from his nose. Every conceivable line Edwin could remember had just been crossed.

  “There’s plenty more where that came from,” the SUV man said, his fist raised in the air like a boxer.

  Edwin pulled his Beretta from its side holster and fired three quick successive shots into the SUV man. The loud gun blasts startled everyone within range, including Paul and Greg. Paul quickly jumped out of the car and ran to the side of a nearby jeep, heavily disoriented. Onlookers dispersed immediately, frantically running in all directions as far away as possible. Drivers ducked under their steering wheels. The woman in the SUV let out a high-pitched scream. Her husband had collapsed to the ground on his back like a bag immediately after taking fire.

  Greg jumped out of the car and, while scratching his head, looked at Edwin. “Why did you do that?” he asked.

  Edwin didn’t answer. He stared down at the SUV man and watched him convulse. As he gasped for air, the SUV man spit up so much blood that it was causing him to choke. He soon stopped breathing. His pupils dilated and he went motionless. Edwin’s nose sniffled from the blood flow. He looked to the SUV with the smoking Beretta still in hand. The woman ducked down out of sight. All he could hear were her cries and screams. Her boys took cover as well.

  Edwin walked towards the SUV as the woman’s screams grew louder. Everything else was quiet. The horns from the other cars had ceased. Greg ran after Edwin and grabbed him.

  “Let’s go!” Greg demanded. Edwin stopped as Greg handed him his hat. “We need to get out of here before anyone else sees us,” he added.

  “Where’s our man?” Edwin asked.

  “He should be in the car still,” Greg said.

  They both looked to the Lincoln and noticed the passenger door hanging open. Edwin clutched Greg by his collar and pulled him closer.

  “You let him get away. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Greg had never seen Edwin so angry. Veins bulged from his forehead. His sunglasses were crooked and cracked. Greg removed his hands from Edwin’s arms and held them up.

  “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” he said. He didn’t know if Edwin was going to shoot him or not. Edwin loosened his grip on Greg’s collar enough to notice several curious people watching them from afar. Edwin pushed Greg away.

  “Let’s go,” he said. “Get in the car.”

  Greg nodded and stumbled back to the car. Edwin ran to the passenger side and searched briefly for any signs of Paul. He placed the Beretta in its holster, jumped into the car, and slammed the door. The Lincoln roared down the parking lot, nearly striking a group of teenagers who had to jump out of the way.

  Paul crept out from the side of another nearby vehicle. The woman fell out of her SUV and ran over to the man on the ground.

  “Help us!” she screamed.

  Paul walked over to them. “I’ll-I’ll call the police,” he said, kneeling down to retrieve his cell phone. The Lincoln tore out of the parking lot, screeching. It vanished in no time. Paul dialed the police. The line was busy.

  “Busy?” Paul thought. “No, no, this isn’t right.”

  He dialed again. He was met with another busy tone. Suddenly he heard the faint sound of vehicle emergency sirens. “They’re probably just a little overburdened right now,” Paul said to the woman.

  “He’s dead!” she cried. “No. This can’t be happening. No. Jim, come back. Please come back.”

  Her hysterical outpour was heart-wrenching for Paul. She held her dead husband and rocked him back and forth, crying uncontrollably. His lifeless eyes stared at Paul.

  “I’m sorry,” Paul said.

  The two young boys exited the SUV and approached their mother.

  “Don’t come any closer,” she yelled. “Go back to the car.”

  They stopped in their tracks with uncertain looks. The younger of the two started sobbing.

  “I…” Paul began.

  The mother glared at Paul with bulging hurt and anger beneath her tear-soaked eyes. “You,” she said.

  Paul backed away, sensing the woman’s contempt. The sirens were getting closer.

  “It’s your fault,” she said. “It’s all your fault!”

  Cars slowly passed them as men, women, and children alike stared out of their windows as if there had been a traffic accident. A Mustang stopped beside them and two tanned and toned young men jumped out to assist. “You need any help?” the blond one asked the woman.

  She said nothing. Her state of shock was too great.

  “That man,” Paul said, “the one who shot your husband. He was trying to kill me too.”

  The woman looked up into the sky and screamed at the top of her lungs. Her cries startled the two young men, and they looked at Paul suspiciously. More people began to approach the scene. The emergency vehicles were close. There were fire trucks, police cars, and ambulances rapidly approaching right down the street, but just as they neared the parking lot, they passed the entrance without so much as a notice. Then they were gone and their sirens became distant again.

  Chapter Five

  Riot Coming

  Julie paced near the checkout lines, trying to decide what to do. Many frustrated people had already left. Some lines thinned out momentarily but filled back up. Many people decided to wait until they thought the power would come back on.

  “I’m not worried, it’s got to be temporary,” one perky woman in her fifties told another.

  Julie had cash, despite what she had told Paul, but couldn’t decide if anything she had was worth the endless lines. She had also grown uncomfortable with the presence of the suspicious-looking boys who had been wandering the aisles in circles. As the crowd received mass emergency text alerts, a heightened sense of panic came over them, but there was little information to put them at ease. Several people attempted to make calls, but nothing was getting through. Internet connectivity on their phones wasn’t working either. The only thing that seemed to be working, intermittently, was text messaging. This was strange but nonetheless comforting. Every person in the store--young and old--was heavily in their own text-frenzy world. They peered down at their screens, typing frantically. From several concealed positions, the flash mob of boys was typing as well through mass text. They got the word from their leader. It was time to spring into action.

  The two store security guards had their hands full. They moved from register to register, trying to usher the customers outside the store.

  “If you cannot purchase your goods with cash, please leave the store,” one mustached guard said repeatedly.

  “People, people, you have to leave the store,” the other clean-shaven one added.

  Julie looked at the exit. She thought of slipping out the doors with everything. She heard a faint alarm from outside. The echoing tone rose and fell while growing louder by the minute. The ominous siren reminded her of something out of an old movie. Its repetitive rhythm sent chills down her spine. Suddenly, a large, sweaty man ran into the store, pushing a group of people out of the way.

  “We’re under attack!” he yelled. “It’s World War Three out there!”

  People were more annoyed by his loud, boisterous behavior than anything else. Others just ignored him. Julie heard an elderly man next to her call him a “raving lunatic” under his breath. Soon his outburst had the attention of nearly every patron in the store. In response, the mustached security guard pushed the man out of the store with haste.

  “We have to find cover! Take cover!”

  It was the last Julie heard of the man before he was thrown out.

  After the screaming man left, talking among the patrons resumed. Then a noise more distressing than the outside siren came. Julie listened closely as she heard the battle cry of the flash mob from the back of the store, followed by the startling sounds of glass shattering and general pandemonium. As planned, the flash mob pushed their way to the front of the store, terrorizing anyone in their path. They pushed, pulle
d, and grabbed their way through unsuspecting customers. Julie saw three hoodlums storm the aisles nearby and rush towards her. She dropped her basket and ran away to a corner aisle.

  A sense of disorder permeated the air and the customers didn’t know what to do. Several of them stood and watched the chaos unfold in awe. It looked like several fights were happening at once, the sort of thing one would imagine a prison riot looking like. The two store security guards ran towards the action to put a stop to the vandalism. They were immediately overwhelmed. Gasps and shouts from swarmed customers filled the store with terror. No one knew what was happening. The young vandals randomly grabbed purses, wallets, electronics, and other goods. They pushed people to the ground and punched their heads. The store manager ran out of his office trying to find out what was going on. He looked at the damage the looters had caused and their sizable numbers. He ran back into his office and locked the door.

  People abandoned their shopping carts, grabbed their children, and fled the store. The fear of the customers emboldened the mob even more. They showed no mercy to any remaining customers.

  “Sucker punch that dude,” the long-haired leader, Remy, yelled to three of his compatriots.

  One of the hoods quickly socked the back of an elderly Vietnam vet, dropping him to the ground like a rag doll as the others laughed. Their destructive journey took them to the electronics department where they smashed glass displays, grabbed jewelry, and inflicted as much damage on the store as possible. They were on a four-minute time limit.

  “Two minutes,” Remy shouted.

  Everyone took notice and made their way to the front of the store. A fire had started in the back, though no one knew exactly how. A few members of Remy’s group had started it by piling some goods in one of the aisles and lighting them on fire. Its flames spread down the grocery aisle quickly.

  The rampage seemed to have no end, even in its brief last minutes. The two security guards--who had earlier tried to stop them--were unconscious and facedown in the middle of aisle five, bloodied and beaten. The store was deserted as nearly everyone had fled. Julie faced no such prospects. She had been hiding on the bottom shelf of the pet aisle behind several bags of dog food. She watched as one disoriented customer, a jumpy family man, pulled a small revolver from his back pocket and walked by.