End Days Super Boxset

by Hayden, Roger

  Carlie instinctively raised her rifle and fired multiple rounds at Harold and Terry while David and Walter wrestled on the ground. The two Seventh Order men fell flat to avoid getting hit. In a matter of seconds, the carnage was nearly over and Paul hadn't a clue what had just happened. His ears were ringing from the deafening gun blasts. He saw motionless bodies lying on the aisle in pools of dark red blood.

  Walter and David struggled as Harold and Terry were concealed behind displays at the end of the aisle.

  “Grab the shit and get out of here,” Rob yelled to the group.

  Carlie stumbled to Ryan. “He’s been hit!” she screamed.

  Rob and Paul rushed to Ryan’s lifeless body and examined him.

  There was a small hole in his chest surrounded by a circle of blood. The wound didn’t look fatal, but when Rob lifted him up by his arm, they noticed a much larger hole in his back where the bullet had exited. Rob felt his pulse. “He’s gone,” he said.

  Their attention turned to Walter and David still rolling around. David had moved on top of Walter and pinned him down. They struggled desperately for Walter’s rifle.

  “Someone help David!” Carlie shouted.

  Paul was disoriented by all the blood, the yelling, and chaos that surrounded him. He smelled gunpowder, familiar to him now.

  Rob pushed Paul out of the way and ran toward the struggle. Just as Walter pushed the barrel of the rifle in David’s direction, David smashed him in the face with a brutal headbutt. Walter removed his hands from the rifle and clutched his nose in writhing agony. David stood up, rubbing his forehead as Walter squirmed on the ground.

  “You broke my nose!” he mumbled beneath his hands and through his disheveled beard.

  “Take him out, David,” Rob said.

  David looked at the rifle on the ground. Walter’s hand steadily moved to it. David swung his leg back and kicked the rifle away.

  “Let him go, or we’ll shoot the both of you,” Harold said from behind the end of the aisle. Rob and Carlie went to the ground in a prone-supported position and aimed their rifles. David grabbed his pistol and placed one knee on the ground to aim.

  “You shoot at us and it’s coming right back, so it’s your choice,” Rob yelled to Harold.

  “Once he makes it down the aisle safely, then we’ll leave,” Harold said.

  Walter continued to crawl down the aisle toward his men while grunting in pain from his broken nose.

  “No one else has to die,” Terry added.

  “You believe this shit?” Rob said, turning to Carlie. “Now they want to make a deal.”

  “Let him go,” Paul said.

  Walter was nearly to the end of the aisle.

  “I’ve got him right in my sights,” Carlie said.

  “Don’t do it,” Paul demanded.

  “Fuck that, they killed Ryan,” she said.

  “We killed two of their people. It’s over,” Paul said.

  Walter crawled his way to safety and was soon out of their sights. Harold and Terry helped Walter up, and the three men fled the store without looking back.

  “That was a pretty mean headbutt you gave that guy,” Rob said with a nudge to David.

  David shook his head in a daze. “Wasn’t worth it. My head is killing me now.”

  The group stood up and walked to Ryan’s body.

  “I didn’t know him that well, but he was a good guy,” David said with sadness.

  “He was a council member. The Sheriff, hell, the whole town is going to be pissed,” Rob said.

  “He was a father too,” Carlie said.

  “Guys,” Paul said from behind them. “Let’s get what we need and get out of here. We’ll find something to wrap Ryan up in too.”

  David, Rob, and Carlie turned to Paul and nodded. They stuffed the medicine back into their backpacks then searched for some material to transport Ryan’s body in. They found some sheets that were covering a window in the back and tore them from the wall.

  They were quiet as they wrapped Ryan’s body in a blanket. Rob and Paul carried him out of the store and placed him in the back of the truck. Rob scanned the area for signs of the other group. They were nowhere to be found. David and Carlie searched the pharmacy counter for antibiotics. They found two packs, much less than they had hoped, and left the store without saying a word. Once in the truck and on the road, the group remained quiet, ever still. They had unfortunate news for New Haven, and there was a collective feeling that more trouble with the Seventh Order was right around the corner.

  Chapter Twelve

  Negotiations

  By the time Harold, Walter, and Terry made it back to camp, it was dark out, and most of their people were sleeping. It was a peaceful evening, and as families slept in their tents, they hadn’t a clue that their peaceful and modest habitat would soon be no more. Walter held a rag to his nose, caked with dry blood. He had little success in controlling the initial bleeding. His beard was crusted as well. He and his crew had no time to rest in order to evade the New Haven group. Ralph, a twenty-five-year-old man with long hair tied back into a ponytail, was on night watch. He rushed to the entrance of the camp to meet Walter.

  “What the hell happened to you?” he asked with shock.

  Walter pushed past him as Harold and Terry followed.

  “Where are the others?” Ralph asked, following them.

  Terry stopped, turned, and placed a hand on Ralph’s shoulder.

  “We ran into some trouble and need to talk to Sister Bonnie. Just stay here and make sure no one comes in.”

  Ralph complied and walked back to the camp entrance as the three other men walked with quickened pace to the church.

  “How do you know they were from New Haven?” Sister Bonnie asked from her desk.

  A nearby lantern burned slowly as its flame lit up half her exhausted face, leaving the other half to shadow. She wore a large bathrobe and sipped water from a coffee mug as if reading a newspaper. It was true that she slept in the church, often using the office as her personal bedroom. She considered herself the church’s caretaker, thus affording the privilege of occupancy. The three remaining members of the tired scavenger group stood across from her, still recoiling in shock at what had happened at Walgreens.

  “At first I didn’t notice, but they said they were from New Haven. One of them recognized me and I him. They said they had been here, to our camp. We’d given them a tour. They knew everything about us. There wasn’t enough medicine. I had to make the call. I—”

  “Are you telling me that the very people who attacked you, the very same people who killed two of our members, know exactly where we’re located?” Sister Bonnie interrupted as she rose from her seat.

  Walter could feel her eyes staring like lasers. She was not happy.

  “I take full responsibility for our actions. They weren’t supposed to get away,” Walter said calmly.

  “But you let them,” Sister Bonnie said.

  Walter hung his head like an ashamed child. Sister Bonnie looked at Harold and Terry.

  “Please leave us. I need to talk to Walter privately,” she said.

  The two men nodded their heads in agreement and left the room.

  “Make sure to get some rest,” Walter said to them.

  “Will do,” Harold replied as they stepped out of the room and shut the door.

  Sister Bonnie approached Walter; mere inches from him. She swung her large arm and slapped Walter across the face with brute force. He stumbled back, holding his cheek. As he regained himself, he balled both his fists with growing rage. The stinging coupled with the pain of his broken nose brought him to a boiling point. Sister Bonnie got closer in his face, as if egging him on.

  “Have you lost your mind?” she shouted. “How could you put our people in danger like this? You know we can’t trust outsiders. They’re a plague to be wiped out. All we had to do was to be patient and wait for it to happen as the prophecy states.”

  She was so near Walter that he co
uld feel the hot breath of her every word. He searched deep within himself for control. He felt pushed to lash out at her. It was a test of loyalty. He released his fists and took deep breaths while trying to ignore the painful throbbing.

  “Sister Bonnie,” he said.

  “What?” she shouted.

  “They came out of nowhere and attacked us. We had no choice but to retaliate.”

  “What am I going to tell Joey’s family?” Sister Bonnie asked.

  “We can’t allow panic to take over what we’ve built here.”

  “We got one of theirs,” Walter stated proudly.

  Sister Bonnie looked at him curiously. It seemed as if she was going to strike again, but just as Walter flinched, her arms rested downward.

  “That is nothing to celebrate. We’re not murderers,” she said.

  “It was in self-defense!” Walter pleaded.

  “That’s no excuse. You should have been more careful. This was a needless incident. Our people are going to want to know why this happened. They’re going to ask if this was in the prophecy. And now we face an enemy that knows where we live.”

  “I’m sorry if I let you down,” Walter said.

  “Tell me that you at least got the supplies,” she said.

  Walter didn’t respond. She walked away and sat at her desk, leaving him to awkwardly stand.

  “They stole it from us,” Walter said.

  Sister Bonnie grabbed a pencil and began to scribble onto her notepad.

  “It’s tomorrow’s sermon,” she said, noticing Walter staring at her. “I’m going to explain everything the best I can. We’re going to bring a peaceful resolution to this… this horrible misunderstanding. I will reach out to the outsiders, offer a truce of sorts, and put this entire horrible mess behind us.”

  Walter felt enraged. “With all due respect, Sister—”

  “I’ve heard all I need from you, Walter,” she said, silencing him. “You probably want to ask me how such a thing could be possible. How I could possibly extend an olive branch to a group of murdering thieves. I will tell you that their fate is already sealed; it makes no difference to what degree we retaliate. We must be the better people.”

  “They called us a cult,” Walter said.

  “To some we are. They don’t know any better.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Walter asked.

  Sister Bonnie looked up from her notebook.

  “Don’t say a thing to anyone. Keep everything quiet. Tell Harold and Terry to stay quiet as well. I don’t want a word of this to get out. Tomorrow morning, I will address our people and let them know what is going on, what danger we may be in, and what we can do about it.”

  Walter walked closer to her desk. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “With what?” Sister Bonnie asked.

  “Well, I mean I have a few ideas about how we can keep everyone safe.”

  “That’s nice of you, but this falls directly on my shoulders. I am the leader of the Seventh Order, and I must be its voice and guide.”

  “Very well,” Walter said with a slight bow. “I’ll leave you to your work.”

  “Thank you,” she said without looking up from her desk.

  Walter turned to the door and was called back as he began to walk out.

  “How do you think we can keep everyone safe?” she asked.

  Walter spoke directly. “We wipe them out completely.”

  Sister Bonnie was left in her shadowy office trying to pen a message to her people that would not only bring them together, but also put them at ease with the growing threat of the outsiders. She stared again at her husband’s framed portrait on her desk then dropped her pencil in frustration.

  “What do I do, Phil? I’m trying to be righteous. I’m trying not to encourage bloodshed, but it’s not going to be easy.”

  Phil started back at her with his stern expression.

  “Yes, you’re right,” she said. “I do hate them. They’ve stolen from us and murdered two of our members. I have to admit that I do desire vengeance. It’s just, there has to be another way.”

  Sister Bonnie rubbed the temples on her forehead then pulled open the desk drawer to her left. She visibly shook as sweat formed on her face. She dug through a drawer full of plastic prescription medicine bottles. Most of them were empty. Sister Bonnie had taken mood stabilizers for most of her life, but never as much as when her husband passed away. She was nearly at the end of her supply. She clutched onto one bottle as a single pill shook inside. She tore the cap open and downed the pill with a sip of water from her mug.

  “Bastards,” she said. “They’re coming for us. I can feel it.”

  She looked again to Phil for advice.

  “You’re absolutely right,” she told him.

  She lifted up his picture and gave it a quick kiss. After setting it carefully back down, Sister Bonnie looked down at her notebook. She pressed hard on the pencil and crossed out her opening title.

  We must make peace with the outsiders.

  Earlier that evening, Rob stopped the F250 at the entrance to New Haven. He held down the horn until the gates were opened. Paul looked at the familiar walls of the community and felt oddly at home. He had seen and heard enough to know that venturing out into the world was a high risk, though it was still not going to keep him from Samantha. The gates were opened by two men acting as gate guards, and they immediately moved out of the way so the truck could pass.

  “Let’s try not to create a panic,” David told everyone. “We need to talk to the Sheriff first, then Ryan’s family.”

  There was agreement among everyone in the car.

  “You okay with that, Paul?” David asked.

  “What does it matter what I think about any of this?” he asked as he exited the truck.

  David, Rob, and Carlie looked at each other. Paul immediately walked toward the townhouse.

  “Make sure no one sees Ryan’s body,” David said.

  Paul carried his backpack full of supplies, considering his debt long paid. In what felt like a stroke of luck, Paul saw the Sheriff walking toward him on the sidewalk. Rob and the others placed a tarp over the bed of the truck and then walked to join Paul. Paul waved his arm in the air, and the Sheriff waved back. As they met, the Sheriff took immediate notice of the blood all over Paul’s shirt.

  “My gracious, are you okay?”

  Paul threw his backpack to the ground in anger.

  “I’m fine, Sheriff. I got pretty damn lucky. Now I think I’ve fulfilled my end of the bargain. I want a car, and I want it tonight. I don’t want it tomorrow morning. I don’t want it in three days. I want it fucking now. I’m going to get my daughter, and we’re going to get out of this town before one of us ends up shot or dead.”

  Silence followed Paul’s rant. The Sheriff gave him a curious look. Perhaps he had crossed the line. Perhaps he hadn’t gone far enough.

  “I can see that you’re frustrated,” The Sheriff said with a guarded tone.

  “You’re damn right. That little expedition nearly got us killed and for what?” Paul shouted, throwing up his arms. “A few bottles of fucking NyQuil?

  Rob and the rest of the group caught up, catching the tail end of Paul’s outburst.

  “Calm down, Paul,” Rob said, slightly pushing him away from the Sheriff.

  “I’m perfectly okay, Rob. I just want the vehicle the Sheriff promised me. Right, Sheriff? Are you going to make good on your word?”

  “Alright, that’s enough. We have a lot of other things to deal with right now,” Rob said while holding Paul back.

  “That’s why I don’t want to wait any longer. How about it, Sheriff?” Paul asked with his voice raised.

  Rob got directly into Paul’s face, blocking his view of the Sheriff.

  “There’s a dead man in our truck. A man who has lived here for the past fourteen years. A man with a family who will never see him again. That is what we’re dealing with, on top of retaliation by that crazy
cult. You think you can drop your whining for a moment here and let us concentrate on what’s important right now?”

  Rob’s comments took Paul by surprise, and he was at a loss for words. He felt defensive as if Rob was being unfairly harsh on him. He only wanted what he had been promised. What did Rob know or care? He had his wife with him and couldn’t possibly understand what Paul was going through.

  “Fuck you,” Paul said defiantly.

  He was met with a quick and forceful push by Rob that sent him stumbling over the sidewalk. He found his footing by sheer adrenaline and went charging after Rob with his fist in the air.

  “No!” Carlie screamed.

  Paul swung, but Rob ducked and struck him in the gut with a quick blow. Paul fell to his knees in agony, gasping for air. Rob stood over him, shaking his head.

  “That’s enough,” the Sheriff said. “I want to know everything that’s happened.”

  “Looks like we lost the wrong one,” Rob stated coldly while looking down at Paul.

  “Everyone to the operations center, now,” the Sheriff said. The group walked away, leaving the Sheriff standing with Paul.

  “You come speak to me once you’ve calmed down,” he said.

  Paul leaned forward on his knees with one arm, holding his stomach with the other. The Sheriff walked away soon after, leaving him to his thoughts.

  The group sat around a circular table in the otherwise empty room. Maps were on the wall, radios rested on tables, and no one else was around.

  “My God,” the Sheriff said, holding his face in his hands. “This is terrible.”

  “I know. It was completely unexpected,” Rob said.

  “I can’t even believe it. It’s like it didn’t really happen. I don’t know,” Carlie said while sniffling.

  “We should have a memorial service as soon as possible. Tell everyone that Ryan died a hero, trying to get the supplies we need,” David said.

  “First, we need to get the medicine to the right people. We almost lost a child today,” the Sheriff said.

  The group gasped.

  “Who was it?” Carlie asked.

  “Reba’s boy, Tommy. His fever was over a hundred degrees. Margie was able to get him back down to normal.”