As the clock chimed upon the hour, a small fire appeared outside the house, followed by anxious footsteps. Another flickering ball of fire came and then a loud explosion. Jordan jolted up from his deep slumber. He could hear shouting and gunshots. He walked to the window and peeked beyond the curtains. The hair rose on the back of his neck as he saw, in the darkness, a group of armed people, camouflaged in green and black attire, marching down the street. They tossed flaming bottles of gasoline, otherwise known as Molotov cocktails, into the streets. The bottles erupted in a bright, fiery blaze and burnt for some time as police aimed their weapons from behind their vehicles. The rogue mob was assembling all across the neighborhood. Several shots were fired, causing Jordan to move away from the windows and duck behind his recliner.
Jordan could hear Paul running down the stairs and into the living room.
“What the hell is going on out there?” he asked, still in a daze.
Before Jordan could answer, a brick smashed through the living room window, nearly hitting Paul.
“Holy shit,” Paul said as he jumped out of the way.
“There are several armed men outside. I don’t know what they’re doing,” Jordan said.
“Do you have any weapons in the house?” Paul asked.
They heard another explosion, the loudest one yet. It sent one of the police cars on its side. Several shots followed. Jordan saw some of the mob fall onto the ground after taking fire from the police.
“It’s a war out there,” Jordan shouted.
“Do you have any weapons?” Paul asked again, hiding behind the couch for cover.
“I have a pistol in my shoulder bag, but I left it upstairs.” Suddenly, Paul could hear Julie’s footsteps. He shouted for her to stop as she reached the bottom of the stairs.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Go back upstairs!” Paul yelled back.
Julie could tell that he was not messing around. She glanced at the chaos beyond the shattered window.
“Go upstairs and find somewhere to hide,” Paul shouted again.
Julie did as she was told. She ran to Danny’s room, and locked the door. From the window upstairs, all she could see was the backyard, but the gunshots and explosions sounded as if they were right outside the door.
“What are we going to do?” Paul asked Jordan.
Jordan rose from behind the recliner and looked out the window. The police were exchanging gunfire with the group and bodies were falling left and right. One of the men, dressed in a full black hoodie and red bandanna across his face, attempted to launch a Molotov cocktail at the remaining police car but was hit by a stray bullet. The cocktail instead flew into the air and struck Jordan’s newly purchased station wagon. After a fiery ball, the flames spread across the car like wildfire.
“Shit. No, no, no,” Jordan repeated as he ran to the kitchen.
“Where are you going?” Paul said from his helpless position.
Jordan threw the cabinets open in search of a fire extinguisher. He knew that there was one in the kitchen. He found it under the kitchen sink and ran back to the living room.
“Wait!” Paul shouted.
“If we lose that car, we are fucked,” Jordan said as he swung open the front door.
Before he could take one step, the station wagon exploded and sent him flying back into the house. Car parts and rugged debris crashed through the windows, leaving the house open and vulnerable to the outside world. The remaining mob outside had effectively taken out the police. Having free rein, they resorted to the looting and destruction of every house within their path. It was only a matter of time before they would be in Jordan’s house. Paul ran to Jordan and shook him.
“Wake up. We have to get out of here.”
Jordan’s eyes flickered open as he jerked upwards.
“The car?” he asked.
“It’s gone,” Paul said. “Those looters are unstoppable. We don’t have much time.”
Paul helped Jordan rise to his feet.
“Just where in the hell are we gonna go?” Jordan asked.
“Anywhere but here,” Paul answered.
Paul ran upstairs to get Julie. He banged on her door while trying to assure her that it was safe to come out. He tried to keep her calm while at the same time stressing urgency. It was a delicate balance. Jordan surveyed the damage to his home and the fire burning outside in shocked awe. Paul ran downstairs with Julie. They both clutched their backpacks, ready to leave.
“Hey, get your stuff,” Paul said, “we’re leaving.”
Without saying a word, Jordan walked upstairs and grabbed his backpack. He took one last look at Rachel’s bed and its large indentations on both sides.
“Thomas,” he said. “Fucking Thomas.”
They escaped through the backyard, as it was most likely the safest route. Several of the looters had made their way to Jordan’s home through his front yard. Paul, Jordan, and Julie moved swiftly across the backyard until they hit a wooden fence enclosure.
“So where to?” Paul asked.
“We jump the fence and get as far away from all of this as we can,” Jordan said.
As Jordan climbed the fence, a spotlight hit him from the house.
“Stop right there,” a voice said behind
the light.
They froze as Jordan slid down the fence.
“Now walk over to me slowly and carefully with your hands up in the air.”
Paul wondered if the person giving the orders was law enforcement.
“Don’t do anything stupid unless you want a shotgun up your ass,” the voice said.
The odds that it was a police officer dwindled, and Paul could feel the creeping fear of the situation taking hold. The man led Paul, Jordan, and Julie out to the street in front of the house. They were surrounded by taunting looters from all sides.
“What do you want?” Jordan asked outright.
The group consisted of five or six of them. Carefully concealed, they started laughing. Paul held Julie and tried to control her shaking. He tried to hide the fact that he, like her, was scared. Not knowing the motives of their captors gave them additional fear. One of the men walked out of the circle and put a pistol to Jordan’s head. Jordan flinched but tried to remain calm.
“I want your money, your food, and whatever else you got. That’s what I want. You know, like that old song, the Bare Necessities?” bandanna man said.
The rest of the group laughed.
“I have—” Jordan began.
“Speak up,” bandanna man barked.
“I said I have money I can give you. I should have some food in the house too.”
Bandanna man examined them and looked back to Jordan.
“We want the girl, too,” he said.
“What?” Jordan asked, shocked.
“Did I stutter? I said we want the girl. You let us take her, and we’ll let you two dickheads go. Deal?”
Paul gripped Julie tight and prepared himself for a looming brawl. Jordan tried to compromise.
“I’m sorry, we can’t do that. You can take whatever you want, but the three of us are sticking together. That’s—”
Before he could finish, bandanna man pistol-whipped him across the face in a quick, violent manner. The surrounding gang burst out in laughter. Jordan fell to the ground on his knees while clutching his face. The man walked past Jordan and stopped in front of Paul.
“I don’t want any lip from you either. Hand over your money, any weapons you have, and the girl. She’ll make a nice addition to our group.”
For the first time in his life, Paul was ready to die. He didn’t feel like he had much choice. He then wondered how his suicidal attitude was going to help Julie. It wasn’t. As she gripped him tighter with tears in her eyes, Paul stared down the masked man in front of him.
“Fuck you,” he said.
Defiant anger had taken over. The man smiled beneath his red bandanna. He raised his pistol and put it against Paul’s head
. “Alright, that pretty much makes you a dead man,” he said with a concealed grin.
Before he could pull the trigger, a shot fired from afar and blasted through the man’s forehead. Paul jumped to the ground and pulled Julie down with him. Bandanna man flew face-first against the ground as his brains slowly leaked out. Bright headlights from a large military-style truck blinded each person within its radius. Jordan lay on the ground, clutching his swollen face. The street thugs raised their weapons. They were met with swift and fatal gunshots that put them on the ground. The truck’s engine roared as it moved down the road toward them. One person, a woman, walked alongside the passenger side of the truck. Paul held Julie as she cried in his arms.
“It’s going to be okay,” he said.
“I can’t take any more of this,” she cried back.
Paul rubbed her head, fully expecting that they might die, when suddenly the shooter woman tapped him on the shoulder. He looked up. She was hard to make out with the headlights blaring into their eyes.
“Are you guys okay?” she asked with one arm extended and another holding a rifle.
Paul squinted and reluctantly took her hand. She helped them on their feet and then yelled to the driver to dim the headlights. They moved to Jordan and helped him up.
“It’s okay,” the woman said to Paul.
“We don’t mean you any harm.”
Paul wasn’t sure what to say. His main concern was Julie.
“Listen, we have an area set up, a safe zone. You don’t want to stay around here, trust me. There’s rampant crime on account of everything going on. Come back to our town, and we’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”
Paul looked past the woman and watched as their station wagon simmered to a crisp.
“Okay,” he said.
“We’ll go with you.”
Chapter Five
Welcome to New Haven
Jordan was hesitant about leaving his home for an undisclosed location, but Paul convinced him otherwise. He said that the people had saved their lives, and they had no reason not to trust them.
“Besides, what would they possibly want with us other than to help us?”
The man introduced himself as Rob. The woman’s name was Carlie. They were a young married couple well-trained in firearms as avid gun hobbyists. While the couple drove, their three dazed passengers clung to the sides in the back of the truck bed. An overhead green camouflage tarp concealed them and darkened their surroundings. The rear flap of the tarp fluttered in the wind, allowing them to see the road passing them by. The back was full of boxes of supplies Rob and Carlie had scavenged. Julie hoped that it was food, and as she went to take a look, Paul told her to leave them alone.
He had it all planned out, or so he thought. They would stay at the supposed “safe zone” for a day or two, find a new vehicle, and get on the road to Colorado in no time. Paul was excited about meeting other people who weren’t looters or thieves. Rob and Carlie seemed to know what was going on, and Paul believed they could tell him more. He would give anything for the opportunity just to scroll through a simple Twitter feed. Though he was worried about Julie, he feared the repercussions from Samantha the most. If Julie were to tell her everything, he didn’t know if Samantha would ever forgive him. Had he been a bad father? Was he putting Julie in constant danger with his actions? From that point on, he had to ensure that nothing else would happen to Julie. That would be his goal until the day they found Samantha.
Not much was said between Paul, Jordan, and Julie. Jordan had become withdrawn and sullen. He held his face, rubbing the area over a large bruise. They rocked back and forth with the truck’s rumbling, all in deep thought. After about thirty minutes on the road, the truck slowed, the gears shifted down, and they came to a stop. They heard the sound of a gate in front of them swing open followed by unintelligible voices from outside. The truck chugged past the gate and into an enclosed area resembling a residential neighborhood. They had arrived at a place called New Haven, a formally gated community turned suburban fortress. As they parked on the side of the road, Carlie got out and opened the tailgate. Both her and Rob were in good shape, fairly young and confident, as well as courteous. They were two energetic, seemingly normal people, but Paul knew that looks could be deceiving.
Jordan was no longer in control of the situation. In one day, it felt like he had lost his family, his house, and their means of transportation. Two men closed the gate to the community, causing Paul to wonder if he was in some type of camp. Spools of barbed wire sat atop the surrounding fence of the area. Sheets of plywood had been placed against the fencing to block outsiders from seeing in, or climbing over. Several people approached, talking to Rob and Carlie. Rob placed a ladder against the bed of the truck. Jordan rubbed his eyes and climbed down the ladder first, followed by Julie and Paul.
“Okay, some of you guys climb up there and let’s unload this stuff,” Rob said to the other people.
Two other men climbed up into the truck bed and handed down the boxes of supplies to others on the ground. Paul, Jordan, and Julie stood in a circle, tired and uncertain. It was the earliest hours of dawn. Normally sunrise would be on the horizon, but it was blocked by the hazy overcast in the sky.
“Where are we?” Jordan asked Carlie.
Carlie walked over to them in response. She wore pieced-together military attire, a tight black vest with an undershirt underneath, jeans, and combat boots. Her rifle was slung across her shoulder.
“This is New Haven,” she said.
“What’s with the barbed wire?” Jordan continued.
Paul gave Jordan a quick glance, signaling him to behave.
“We’ve taken measures to keep our town safe and secure,” she answered.
“From what?” Jordan asked.
“From the very same people who attacked you tonight.”
“I don’t know about any of this,” Jordan said, pacing away in frustration.
Carlie watched him curiously then turned to Paul. “I understand you guys may be tired and confused, hell, we’re all still confused, but just know that for the time being, you’re safe here.”
Paul smiled. Julie was mute. Jordan turned around. “I don’t get it. Is this a refugee camp? Do you guys normally go driving around in the middle of the night rescuing people from violent gangs?”
Carlie laughed. “We’re not military. We’re civilians, just like you. We were out for a supply run and noticed the fires and explosions. You can thank Rob for coming to get you, because I was against going anywhere near it.”
“We’re very grateful,” Paul said. “And don’t mind Jordan, he has a lot on his mind.”
“I don’t need you to speak for me, Paul,” Jordan barked. “I’m perfectly capable of speaking for myself.”
They watched as a few of the townspeople unloaded the boxes and stacked them near a curb. Paul observed the homes along the sidewalk. There were lights on in the windows.
“You have power?” he asked in an astonished tone.
“Generators,” Carlie said. “We run them sparingly, as fuel has become an issue, but we’ve managed so far.”
“What are they saying on TV? Do you have Internet too?” Paul asked. “What’s the latest news? You must tell us everything.”
Carlie placed her hand on Paul’s shoulder.
“We should go talk to the Sheriff. He pretty much runs things around here.”
Jordan walked up to re-join their small circle. “The Sheriff? Like a real sheriff?”
“Like a real sheriff,” Carlie repeated back.
“So you have police here?”
“We police ourselves,” Carlie said.
They were led past several residential houses to a Homeowner’s Association building turned headquarters. Paul, Jordan, and Julie followed Carlie inside the building down a dark hallway and into a wide and dimly lit area. Four men sat at individual folding tables throughout the room. They worked under the light of kerosene lamps. Next to each person
were portable battery-operated shortwave radios. They listened closely to the transmissions coming from the speakers and scribbled down notes like soldiers in a bunker during a war. A tall man walked into the room with his hands locked behind him. He wore a pistol belt over his waist with a semi-automatic holstered to it. His blue denim jeans were faded and his black buttoned-up long-sleeve shirt was rolled up at the sleeves. Paul believed he had spotted “the Sheriff,” though the man had his back turned to them. Centered on the wall in front of him was a large state map of Missouri. To the side of the map was a white board covered in writings that covered dates, times, and daily updates.
“So is this your operations center?” Jordan asked Carlie.
She walked past Jordan and approached the man standing before them.
“Hey, Sheriff, we have some new visitors.”
The Sheriff turned around, surprised, with a quick glance at Carlie, and then at the group she had brought in. He had bags under his eyes and rough stubble on his cheeks. His white hair was neatly trimmed. He spoke into Carlie’s ear for a brief moment and walked over to greet the new arrivals, beginning with Jordan.
“Hi, I’m the Sheriff, nice to meet you.”
“Likewise, my name is Jordan.”
Paul then shook the Sheriff’s hand introducing himself. Jordan leaned toward Paul and spoke quietly.
“He refers to himself in third person as the Sheriff? This is ridiculous.”
Paul nodded along innocently as he gave the Sheriff a smile. The Sheriff looked at Julie.
“Well, hi there, little lady. You sure look tired. Perhaps we can find you a bed so you can get some rest.”
End Days Super Boxset Page 126