End Days Super Boxset

by Hayden, Roger

  “Sheriff, what are we going to do?” a woman named Joanne with short hair cried from the back seat.

  The Sheriff looked up then pounded the dashboard with his fist. He kicked open his door and stumbled outside, where he was met by other confused members of his group. Jordan climbed out of the truck. There was still ringing in his ears. He patted himself thoroughly for wounds and breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t find any.

  “Who’s here? I want a count of who’s here and who’s missing or dead,” the Sheriff said, pacing around his truck in a lost state.

  The driver of the other truck, a black man named Melvin, took the lead and counted everyone who was standing.

  “I count fourteen of us. We lost six,” he said.

  “Don’t forget about Alan. They got him while we were driving away,” the Sheriff said as he leaned against his truck holding his side.

  “Sheriff, you’ve been hit,” Joanne said.

  Everyone looked and could see blood running down the Sheriff’s jeans from a wound he was covering on his side.

  “I’ll be fine,” he replied. “So five were left behind who could be dead or dying. We need to go back and get them.”

  The group was quiet and unresponsive. The Sheriff’s plan seemed less than encouraging. Melvin was the first to speak.

  “Going back there isn’t going to solve a damn thing right now. They’ll unload on us.”

  “There has to be a way,” the Sheriff said.

  “Right now, there isn’t,” Melvin continued.

  “Dammit, we can’t just leave them there!” the Sheriff said as he punched the side of his truck.

  Melvin approached him and spoke with calmness.

  “We have to get back to New Haven. There’s a lot to consider right now. Things could get much, much worse and we need to make sure our people are prepared.”

  The Sheriff thought for a moment and then looked on in agreement.

  “You’re right. I just. I just don’t understand what happened back there. Thirty years with the police department, and I’ve never seen anything like it. I need some of you to place Alan in the back of my truck. We’ll go back to town and let everyone know what’s going on.”

  “We got it, Sheriff,” Melvin said with an earnest tone.

  Melvin signaled some men to move Alan’s body as everyone else went back to their trucks. The Sheriff climbed into the driver’s seat and closed his door. He looked into the rearview mirror where Joanne sat with two other dazed and shaken men. No one wanted the front seat anymore.

  “I’m making this promise to you now,” the Sheriff said. “We’re not burying any more bodies of our own after today. This is not going to happen again, I’ll see to that.”

  Joanne thought the Sheriff desperately optimistic.

  Paul and Julie sat in Tommy’s room while he ate a bowl of chicken noodle soup. Color had come back to his face and he looked ten times healthier than he looked before. Paul had apologized profusely to Tommy’s mother, Reba, and at first, she refused to let him back into their home, medicine hero or not. Eventually she gave in, and Paul felt that it was time to tell Tommy the same.

  “I used to love getting sick, missing school, and lying in bed all day,” Tommy said, shoveling a spoonful of hot soup into his mouth. “But without power or TV, getting sick is boring.”

  “You could always read a book,” Julie said.

  “I tried reading. My mom gave me The Wind and the Willows, but I kept falling asleep every time.”

  Julie laughed. “I think it’s called The Wind IN the Willows,” she said.

  “Whatever,” Tommy replied.

  “Tommy, I’m glad to see that you’re feeling better, and I just wanted to… apologize for my behavior earlier, storming into your room like I did,” Paul said.

  Tommy slurped the remainder of his soup from the bowl.

  “It’s okay. Yeah, my mom called you a jerk, but I said you were probably okay. Maybe you just had a bad day or something.”

  Paul laughed. “I was afraid.”

  “Afraid of what?” Tommy asked.

  “The unknown, I guess. Someday you might see that you’ll do anything to protect the people you love.”

  “Are you guys leaving?” Tommy asked with sadness in his voice.

  “Soon, yes,” Paul said.

  “Can you take me with you?” Tommy asked.

  “I don’t think your mom would be too happy about that,” Paul said.

  “We have to find my mom,” Julie said. “We’re on a mission.”

  “That we are,” Paul said.

  They left Tommy’s soon after, and Paul experienced something unfamiliar: the feeling of goodness. He felt good that they had gotten the medicine to Tommy, and for those quick moments, he was able to suppress the anxiety he felt over Samantha. Tommy insisted that they stay, but Paul knew it was time to get ready. He had the key to the car the Sheriff gave him, and he knew that the group would be back soon with Jordan. Paul still had much preparation to do for their trip. The mood around town was solemn and quiet. Most everyone was in his or her home. The death of Ryan had a terrible effect on morale, plus the townspeople worried for their people out on the road.

  “Gosh, it’s quiet around here,” Julie said. “It’s like a different neighborhood or something.”

  “We’re leaving tonight as soon as Jordan gets back,” Paul said. “I want you to get fully packed and ready.”

  Though she knew they were leaving soon, Julie still couldn’t believe it.

  “So we’re really leaving? I mean, for real this time.”

  “Yes, for real this time.”

  “We’re going to find mom, right?”

  “We will find your mother, yes.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Julie said.

  Paul stopped walking.

  “We’ve been through this before. I can be sure because I have faith in it. When you have faith in something, it keeps you going. You have to believe, like I do, that your mother is okay. If for one moment I didn’t think that she was okay, we would be hiding inside a house like everyone else around here.”

  “It sounds like you’re judging them,” Julie said.

  “I’m not,” Paul said. “But you have to remember that we’re not one of them. We’re just passing through.”

  “Still sounds like you’re judging them. You know, it’s okay to admit that you like the people here.”

  It was mid-afternoon when the trucks arrived at the front gate. David, dutifully on watch as always, heard them roaring down the road from a mile away. He moved swiftly to open both gates and allow them entry. The trucks pulled in and parked to the side of the road. David shut the gates and approached them. The closer he got, the more he could see the extensive damage of dents and bullet holes. As everyone climbed out, David noticed they had less people than before. He felt no pride upon thinking he was right to have been worried. Making peace with the Seventh Order had been a foolish endeavor after all.

  “What happened?” he asked with a deadly serious tone.

  Townspeople looked out from their windows, taking notice of their return. A dozen or so residents walked out into the street to meet the returning group. Jordan climbed out of the back of the Sheriff’s pickup truck and hopped to the ground. David approached him and asked again what had happened.

  “It didn’t go very well,” Jordan answered, his face pale and his eyes solemn.

  “The Sheriff can probably tell you more, but they weren’t too happy to see us.”

  David peeked into the back of the Sheriff’s truck and saw the shape of a body wrapped in a blue tarp.

  “How many did we lose?” he asked Jordan, getting right in his face.

  “Five, I think. Six maybe. I don’t know, it was all such a blur.”

  “People, people, rally around me here,” the Sheriff said, stepping away from the trucks and signaling a rallying point with his finger in the air. A concerned group of the townspeople gathered around. Everyone w
as asking questions. The wife of one of the dead men left back at camp clutched onto Melvin as he exited his truck.

  “Where’s Jonathan?” she pleaded.

  “Where is he?” Her voice grew more hysterical by the second.

  “Their people were angry with us, and they started throwing rocks, and then shots were fired. Jonathan didn’t make it.”

  “No, no, no, no. This can’t be happening. No, I don’t believe you!” she screamed out.

  She buried her face in Melvin’s work jacket and cried in long and painful bursts. Melvin put his arm around her and rubbed her back.

  “I’m sorry, Linda. I really am.”

  The Sheriff hobbled onto a pair of steps near the New Haven Park to address the townspeople. He held a bloodied cloth to his side and breathed heavily and with great discomfort. Margie had left her house upon hearing all the commotion. She ran over to meet the group and took instant notice of the Sheriff’s condition.

  “My God, he’s been hit!” she shouted, pushing her way through everyone.

  “Hold on, just one moment. I’ll be fine. I was just grazed, that’s all.”

  “It doesn’t look grazed,” Margie replied. “That looks like an open wound.”

  “We’ll deal with all of that in a moment. For now, I need to let everyone know what’s going on.”

  For Jordan, it was good to see Margie, and at that moment, it struck him how lucky he was to have survived. He looked around curiously for signs of Paul and Julie. They were nowhere to be found. Several people cried as more townspeople left their homes to join the group and find out what had happened. Fortunately, no one had discovered Alan’s body in the back of the truck. Melvin tried to ensure this by standing carefully by to keep people from looking. He continued to hold Linda in his arms as she cried for her dead husband. Margie placed her arm around the Sheriff to assist him up. She demanded that they get him to a bed and treat him, but he refused.

  “Just let me say my thing. Don’t worry, I got this,” he said.

  “Let someone else speak, you’re badly injured,” she said.

  “Margie, please,” he responded.

  He pushed himself slightly away from her and patted her shoulder.

  “People of New Haven, we faced an unfortunate outcome with the Seventh Order. They claim that it was us who attacked them and that we murdered two of their people without cause or reason.”

  “What the fuck?” David shouted out. “They’re liars.”

  “They attacked us,” Rob and Carlie said as they arrived to join the meeting.

  The Sheriff waved his hand in the air, dismissing the comments.

  “It doesn’t matter anymore. There is absolutely no chance of peace between our two communities. The situation turned badly, rocks were thrown at us, and I believe one of our people fired at them, then a deadly firefight ensued. Sister Bonnie made demands of us that could not have been met. She said their people want New Haven and that they plan to take it by force. I say this not to scare any of you, but it is the truth. We have lost five more of our people and I refuse to lose a single one more. At this point, we must be prepared a defend ourselves.”

  “We’re not soldiers,” a man called out.

  “Hell, I’m a schoolteacher,” another man shouted.

  Confusion and outcry moved throughout the small crowd. Rob approached the front and stood near the Sheriff.

  “Those of you who can help defend the city, we need you. Those who can’t, take the children into the bunkers and lay low.”

  The people seemed to be even in more disagreement with Rob’s idea.

  “Those bunkers aren’t even finished yet!” a man cried out. “We could suffocate in there,” a woman added.

  “All of you better think of something, because when that cult gets here, they’re not going to stop until each and every one of you are dead,” Rob said, pointing at the crowd.

  The townspeople quieted. The tension and anxiety they felt had been amplified. The Sheriff leaned to Rob and said in a low voice.

  “You’re not helping with remarks like that. I’ll take it from here.”

  Rob reluctantly stepped down and went back into the crowd.

  “I think what Rob is trying to say is that we must take these people seriously. They will most likely come armed. They will try to get over the gates. On the other hand, heck, they might not even come here at all. We just have to be prepared and ready.”

  “They’re coming here. I know it,” Rob said to Carlie. “I give it a day or two.”

  The Sheriff instructed the townspeople to construct sturdier walls around the community.

  “Every single entrance point into New Haven must be secured. We only have so much time, so let’s get moving—” before he could finish, the Sheriff fell over and collapsed on the ground to the shocked gasps of the crowd.

  Margie ran to him and helped him back up.

  “We need to get him to a bed immediately,” she cried.

  Rob, Carlie, and three other men ran to his aid and helped carry him back to his house. Margie stopped and looked down. The Sheriff’s blood had stained the lower part of her white dress. She wondered how much blood he may already have lost.

  “Margie!” Jordan called out.

  She looked into the crowd and saw him moving his way toward her.

  “Jordan!” she cried.

  Jordan ran to her and they threw their arms around each other in a joyful embrace.

  “Thank God you’re okay. I feared the worst when the Sheriff said five didn’t make it.”

  Jordan squeezed her closer to him.

  “I’m not going to let that happen. We’re all going to make it through this. I promise.”

  A tear streamed down Margie’s cheek.

  “I just don’t know anymore. I’m so sick of the loss of life around us.”

  She held tightly onto Jordan as he moved his hand gently across her back.

  “Margie, we need to get out of here. We need to leave New Haven,” he said.

  “What?” she asked as she lifted her head from his chest.

  “I said that we need to get out of here. Paul has a car, and we’re making plans to leave tonight. I want you to come with us, to be a part of our group. I care about you, Margie, and I don’t want to leave here without you.”

  Margie seemed both alarmed and angered by his proposal. She gently pushed herself away from him as her affectionate eyes turned to stone.

  “You’re suggesting that I just leave the people I care about and go on the lam with you? Just turn my back on them and never look back? I love this town; I’m a part of this town. These people need me. How could you even suggest that I would leave them behind?”

  Jordan felt the sting of her words and an instant regret for asking her.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to suggest—”

  “You and Paul want to leave tonight, that’s fine, but to think that I would leave while people’s lives are in danger and while the Sheriff suffers from a gunshot wound. You’d have to be out of your mind.”

  Jordan reached out to touch Margie. She backed away.

  “Excuse me,” she said, storming off.

  Jordan watched her walk quickly to the Sheriff’s house down the block.

  “Fuck…” he said to himself.

  Paul was in his room, packing his backpack, when Jordan stormed in.

  “I thought I’d find you here,” Jordan said. “Where’s Julie?”

  Paul looked up from his bed and to Jordan.

  “She’s in her room, getting packed. Are you almost ready to go?”

  Jordan walked closer to Paul with a gentle tone in his voice.

  “Paul, listen. We’ve got problems. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

  Paul gave Jordan a perplexing look. He didn’t like what he was hearing.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Paul asked.

  “The Sheriff has been shot. Five more people are dead. Thank you for asking how that went, by the
way. That cult group unloaded on us, and we’re pretty certain they’re on their way here to finish the job,”

  Jordan said as his voice grew louder.

  A banging came across the wall from the room on the other side.

  “Stop fighting in there!” Julie shouted.

  Jordan lowered his voice.

  “Margie is pissed at me. The whole town is losing it. Everything is spiraling out of control.”

  Paul looked back down at the bed as he folded one of his shirts.

  “More reason to get the hell out of here,” he said.

  Jordan paced in a small circle, biting his index fingernail.

  “I don’t think I can go.”

  Paul’s attention stayed on his folded shirt.

  “You do what you feel is necessary, but I’m not waiting any longer.”

  Jordan shook his head, turned to the door, and opened it.

  “I could have been killed out there while you were here packing, but I guess it’s all the same to you. You have a good trip,” he said as he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

  Paul walked out of the room to Julie’s.

  “Julie, are you almost ready?”

  “In a minute,” she said from behind the door.

  “I’ll get the car ready,” Paul said.

  He walked out of the house and toward the Sheriff’s place with his backpack on his shoulder. It was almost evening and there were several small pockets of people spread about, huddled in secretive talk. The town had an almost eerie feeling to it. Paul had no idea where Jordan went off to, but he was pretty sure that her name started with M. As he walked to the Sheriff’s house, he noticed the garage door was already open. The Malibu was waiting for him in the Sheriff’s two-car garage, which was littered with tools and old stacks of newspapers. As Paul approached the car, the door into the Sheriff’s house opened revealing Margie, Rob, and Carlie leaving. They stopped when they saw Paul standing nearby. Margie gave Paul a sour look; Rob and Carlie took little notice of his presence.