End Days Super Boxset

by Hayden, Roger

  Paul pulled Julie with him and slipped toward the door.

  “I am sorry for disturbing your family,” he said before leaving.

  “What did you do that for?” Julie yelled as they walked back to the townhouse.

  Paul looked at the homes along their path and noticed people peering at them through vertical blinds. He felt a certain isolating sense to the town. With illness spreading, people were either getting sick or choosing not to venture outside their homes. Paul wondered what the predicament would do to the Sheriff’s bunker project.

  “It’s for your own good,” Paul sternly answered.

  “I don’t want to alarm you, but we just need to play it safe.”

  Paul stopped and halted Julie.

  “And what were you doing at this boy’s house anyway?” he asked.

  “He invited me to breakfast, but he got sick. You didn’t have to storm in there like a monster.”

  “Perhaps I overreacted, but I need you to stay away from everyone right now. I want us to make it out of here, you understand that?” Paul lowered his tone, feeling his point made.

  Julie looked at him curiously.

  “Why are people getting sick?” she asked.

  “Something in the air, I don’t know. Now listen to me, I have to go on a quick supply run, nothing special. I need you to stay in the townhouse and not to leave for any reason.”

  Paul’s hands held Julie by her arms as he pleaded in his most sincere tone.

  “I take it we’re not leaving today?” she asked.

  “Something came up, just a temporary setback, but we’ll be leaving soon, I promise.”

  Julie hung her head down toward the ground.

  “What’s wrong?” Paul asked.

  “I feel bad for Tommy. He didn’t look so good. Is he going to be okay?”

  “He should be fine. We just need to get enough medicine for everyone.”

  “That’s where you’re going?” she asked.

  “Yes, that’s where we’re going. Just stay indoors until I get back. Don’t go anywhere with Jordan or anyone else. And don’t let anyone inside.”

  Julie’s blank expression on her face was the best she could do.

  Paul lifted her chin up with his thumb.

  “Hey, everything is going to be okay.”

  “I don’t know if I believe that anymore,” she said.

  Paul met his group in the garage of Margie’s quaint two-bedroom home. He had been the last one to arrive, but punctuality was the least of his concerns. He carried a backpack over the shoulder of his jean jacket. His shotgun was slung over his other shoulder. He had never fired it before but felt that it couldn’t be any more difficult than pulling the trigger. He was surprised to find Jordan absent from Margie’s side, but then he remembered Jordan’s supposed late shift in New Haven’s makeshift operations center. The same Ford F250 from their last outing idled in the driveway with Rob, again, at the wheel. Margie waved to Paul as he approached. He waved back. She was talking with David, the gate guard, as he was attentive to her every word. Paul felt a hand slap across his back and turned to see Carlie standing behind him, smiling.

  “Well, if it isn’t the original badass,” Paul said.

  “Don’t you forget it,” Carlie said.

  “How’s it going?” Paul asked.

  Carlie shrugged.

  “It’s going. Hey, I heard the Sheriff put you in charge.”

  Paul swiped his hand through the air in a disregarding manner.

  “No, I’m not in charge of anything. You guys do what you need to do. I’m just along for the ride.”

  “Sounds like you’re shrinking from you responsibilities,” Carlie said with a smile.

  “It’s more of the Sheriff’s little game. It’s like a father who coaches a high school football team and makes his son the quarterback so he doesn’t quit the team.”

  “You suck as a leader, got it,” Carlie said, followed by her distinctive laugh. “Regardless, you better talk to Margie. She’s got quite the wish list.”

  “Okay, Carlie. Don’t go too far now,” Paul said.

  “There have been growing sanitation issues in New Haven, and some of these cases are directly related to the spread of germs and infection. That’s why it’s important to have sanitation and water purification systems quickly set in place after substantial loss of power and infrastructure,” Margie explained in her lecture-sounding tone.

  “You know your stuff,” Paul said.

  Margie smiled but reaffirmed her position.

  “Judging by what I’ve seen the past couple of days and the increase of illnesses, it’s not too hard to figure out.”

  “The Sheriff told me that you had a list of medical supplies needed.”

  “Yes, I do. We kind of got in an argument over me going, but he insisted that I stay here.”

  Margie pulled a folded piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to Paul.

  “So you wanted to go?” Paul asked taking the paper.

  “Of course I did,” Marge said. “However, there’s nothing on that list that should be too difficult to find in any standard pharmacy.”

  Paul looked over the list. It consisted of antibiotics, vitamins, cough medicine, aspirin, and some herbal medicines. It was a simple list, but simplicity was a dying notion.

  “Where’s the nearest pharmacy?” Paul asked.

  “Rob knows the area pretty well. There used to be a Wal-Mart open, but its shelves have been cleared. There’s a Walgreens not too far away, you might have some luck there. The hospital is about twenty miles away, but it’s too close to the city. I used to work there.”

  “You did?” Paul asked. “Right, you’re a nurse.”

  “About up to the point where they couldn’t pay us anymore. It just got to be too much. After Day One, it was just a dangerous place to be. I haven’t been back there since.”

  Paul thanked Margie for the information and began to walk to the truck when she stopped him and gave him a hug.

  “What’s that for?” Paul asked after awkwardly trying to hug her back.

  “For good luck, silly,” she said.

  The rest of the group met Paul near the truck. Rob, Carlie, Ryan, and David were armed and ready to go. They encircled Paul as he addressed them.

  “There’s been some talk about me being in charge, but I just want to make it clear that I’m not in charge of this trip. I have the list Margie provided and I’m ready to help any way that I can, but I am not here to tell anyone what to do. We need to work together, that’s all. This town has been very good to my daughter and I. We were on our way from Pennsylvania, fleeing a nuclear attack, and as most of you know, I was on my way to Colorado in search of my wife when we were attacked and saved by Rob and Carlie. So I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m just trying to make sense of everything, like the rest of you. Now let's do what we have to do.”

  The group dispersed and climbed into the F250.

  “Real nice speech there, General Patten,” David said to Paul as he walked by him.

  “Got to inspire the troops, you know?” Paul replied in equal sarcasm.

  Once everyone was loaded in the truck, Rob backed out of Margie’s driveway and drove toward the gates. Paul sat in the front seat, excited about seeing the civilized world, or what was left of it. They had their task and hoped for the best. There was little else they could do.

  Chapter Eleven

  Scavenger Hunt

  Sister Bonnie stood at the podium addressing a packed house of her most loyal followers. The Seventh Order was a quasi-religious movement she had dedicated the past years of her life to. She hadn’t gained her congregation overnight; it had grown slowly and steadily over time. In a way, she was picking up where her late husband, Phil, left off. Her husband had begun the Seventh Order after a series of visions, where he moved the church away from its Presbyterian roots into something new. They lost a series of members as a result, and gained new ones in their place. The foc
us of the church then became about preparing for their inevitable fate, which included an end to the human race and their own ascension to a higher place in life and in death. Her husband had declared himself the chosen one capable of opening the seals that would reveal mankind's final judgment.

  Pastor Phil and his wife, Bonnie, initially traveled to Missouri from San Diego, California, after a series of failed business ventures. They found their home at the First Presbyterian Church, as Phil, not particularly religious at the time, embraced the church and soon became one of its most influential leaders. Bonnie had never seen anything like it. Phil immersed himself in the Bible and was able to discuss the passages at-length for hours to his often-stunned audience. His ability to strongly communicate assisted his rise to the head of the church, and with his new position, he began to move the church toward a new path that would see him recognized as a true prophet among his most loyal followers. Bonnie nurtured and aided his journey from minister to messianic figure, as she was dedicated to him. The local media called the Seventh Order movement “a doomsday cult.” A lot of bad press followed and, as a result, their numbers dwindled. They were called everything from a “phony religion” to “a bastardization;” however, Phil was persistent, and by the time he died from lung cancer, he had assembled over thirty converts. The worse things got in the world, the more their numbers grew.

  Now they followed Sister Bonnie, and though she lacked her husband’s natural charisma, her no-nonsense nature emphasized the significance of the serious times they were living in. Her title came in the first days of her assuming her husband’s role as leader of the Seventh Order when a young girl, named Nina, approached her one morning.

  “I picked a flower for you, Sister Bonnie,” the girl said.

  Bonnie didn’t know how to respond, she had given herself no official title, but the name stuck, and she soon became the prophet that her husband had claimed himself to be. Her true desire over her congregation was control. She demanded nothing short of absolute loyalty and would often publicly humiliate those who disagreed with her. Her main tactic was to reason with her congregation of followers, as well as play on the sympathies of being a recently widowed woman. She described visions of when Phil came to her and delivered the word from the afterlife. During these sermons, the people hung on her every word. As the new leader of the Seventh Order, she had indisputably achieved a level of success.

  “We will soon find the beginning of a new day,” Sister Bonnie said from the podium.

  The room was silent except for the near crying of a toddler squirming in his mother’s arms.

  “Many of you have heard the news and are aware that life, as we know it, has forever changed. Many of you came here for answers. You came here after losing your homes. You came here after losing your jobs, your friends, your girlfriends, your boyfriends, husbands, wives, everything in life that once mattered. You lost those people because they are not meant to accompany you to this new stage. However, many of you have been blessed with families that love and care about you, and you’re all here today. The people that we knew in our previous lives, they are left stunned and unprepared with what to do and how to survive when we have been preparing for this moment all of our lives. But even with the best preparation, there is always room for vigilance. That is why I’m assembling a team to locate the supplies necessary to sustain ourselves until the day arrives when we shall inherit the earth. Fare these dedicated travelers well, for they will need your prayers as they venture out into a doomed world in order to gather what we need. Never forget that what we have is ours. What I have is yours. We are not a group of individuals, but one body of truth that will soon see the light.”

  Sister Bonnie closed her remarks by throwing her arms up toward the ceiling and raising her voice so that it echoed throughout the halls of their church.

  “Give our travelers strength, support, and love in their journey. Tell them that we thank them for sustaining the Seventh Order.” Murmurs of approval flowed throughout the congregation.

  “Our day will soon come.”

  The murmurs turned to cheers.

  “We will enter the kingdom soon. The Seventh Order is the way! It is our only way!”

  The congregation stood and applauded Sister Bonnie in a raucous cheer. After her closing words, she left the podium, basking in the glow of her impassioned followers. Sister Bonnie walked down the aisle to her office and closed the door. The cheers of her followers slowly died out and turned to sounds of footsteps shuffling out the front entrance. For a moment, Sister Bonnie was alone. She was expecting the scavenging team to be at her door any moment. On the surface of her desk sat a framed portrait of her late husband. It was a headshot taken years before his death when he had first joined the church. His graying hair was still a thick mound atop his head. His eyebrows were just as thick and his wide bright blue eyes shone as his face wrinkled to form a large and inviting smile.

  “We’re close, Phillip, we’re getting closer each day. They say that millions of people around the world have perished in man’s foolish conquest for nuclear war. I believe this is only the beginning. Though I want nothing more than to join you, I’ve accepted my place here, alone, and out of your reach, just to continue to spread the word. It’s not easy for me, Phillip, but I will keep going, just know that.”

  A knock came at the door and Sister Bonnie called for them to enter. Her team was good on their feet, and considering cars were outlawed in the camp, physical mobility was vital. The day Sister Bonnie had banned vehicles was the day the true believers revealed themselves as people most dedicated to the cause of the Seventh Order. Many refused and were promptly ejected from the community. Those who stayed agreed to have their vehicles taken and disposed of. As much as she believed in her own followers, she wanted to minimize any chance that they might leave. Her paranoia sometimes got the best of her. She believed that she was the chosen leader of the people, chosen by a higher power, and there was no room for anyone who questioned her place.

  “Come in,” she said.

  The door opened, revealing her trusted assistant, Walter, with a group of four other men. The men consisted of the blond man, otherwise known as Terry, a thirty-something former surfer turned-vigilante. There was Chris, a Hispanic man, who had fled his hometown of L.A. to find enlightenment with the Seventh Order. There was also Harold, a family man in his fifties, who had invaluable hunting experience. A beer brawl from his younger days had left him with a large scar on the side of this face. And then there was Joey, “the kid,” a Missouri farm boy who had traveled from Wichita with his family to join Sister Bonnie’s cause.

  The group shuffled into the office as Joey closed the door behind them. Walter approached Sister Bonnie’s desk and the other men grouped behind him. Sister Bonnie leaned forward. The light from her battery-operated desk lamp illuminated her face.

  “So you have the map?” she asked.

  “Yes, we have everything we need,” Walter answered.

  “Take no longer than a day and stick to exactly what we need. Non-perishable foods, water purifiers, and medicine and supplies. Living in such close proximity has finally taken its toll. I noticed five people missing from the service today. Their families had told me they were sick and I shouldn’t have to explain to you the importance of a healthy community. The people look to us for survival, and we can’t let them down.”

  “I understand,” Walter replied.

  “Thank you, Walter, for everything. Keep your men safe, and I’ll be praying for your quick return.”

  Walter gave Sister Bonnie a friendly nod then turned to his group.

  “Alright boys, gear up and get prepared, we're about to take a little walk through town.”

  The group nodded in agreement as they left the office. Sister Bonnie looked back to Phil’s framed portrait on her desk and stared.

  “We’re too packed in here, Phillip. It’s not working. We’re going to need a bigger place to live soon.”

  Paul’
s team from New Haven had been on the road for ten minutes and they hadn’t reached a single store yet. They were in rural country. They passed endless trees, empty pastures, and dense forest with no home or business in sight.

  “How far into the boondocks are we anyway?” Paul asked from the front seat of the F250.

  In the back of the truck sat David, Ryan, and Carlie.

  “What do you mean?” David asked.

  “I mean, is there anything actually around here?”

  “Back when it was called Old Haven, it was designed as a gated community away from everything. The location was chosen for its seclusion and remoteness,” David said.

  “Gee, that really helps us now,” Paul said sarcastically.

  “Trust me, Paul, we’re lucky to be away from everything. It’s not pretty out there,” David said.

  “It can’t stay that way forever,” Paul said. “Sooner or later things have to go back to normal.”

  They approached a small town indicated by the first traffic light of their journey. The light wasn’t working, and as a result, there were two smashed vehicles to the side of the road, their passengers long gone.

  “Those cars have been there for a while,” Rob said. “They were there last time we came out here.”

  “Where is everyone? It’s like a ghost town. Jordan told me that Missouri didn’t get attacked, so what the hell is going on?”’

  “Around here, when something happens, people tend to hunker down, just like we’re doing. You’re not going to see that many people.”

  “Okay, so where’s the Walgreens?” Paul asked.

  “We’ve got another five miles or so,” Rob answered.

  As they passed the intersection, Paul looked out his window to see abandoned cars parked alongside the road in the other direction. They neared a county store and Paul noticed a man walking ahead. Paul leaned forward and squinted.

  “You guys see that? Look, it’s a person,” he said.

  There was a general disinterest among the group.