End Days Super Boxset

by Hayden, Roger

  “So I see you’re in a hurry to get out of here,” Margie said.

  “You might want to say bye to the Sheriff before you go. He could use some support, you know?”

  Paul placed his backpack on the ground.

  “I’m sorry to hear about the Sheriff. Is he going to be okay?”

  “Why don’t you go ask him yourself?” Margie said.

  The three of them walked off, leaving Paul standing in the garage with the Malibu key in his hand.

  He walked into the house, wary of receiving any further passive-aggressive behavior. As he made it down the darkened hallway to the Sheriff’s bedroom, he reminded himself of his commitments, all that he had done for the town, and how foolish it was of them to make him feel guilty about wanting to leave. He was going to go in the Sheriff’s room, wish him well, then hit the road as planned. He didn’t feel that anything could change his mind. The Sheriff was lying in bed on his back. His clothes had been changed and he had a large gauze bandage wrapped around his stomach. He stared at the ceiling with eyes in deep thought.

  “Hi, Sheriff, how are you feeling?” Paul asked.

  He glanced to Paul with a slight smile.

  “I’m fine. Our adamant town nurse is just making more out of it than it’s worth. I’ll be up and moving around in no time.”

  “That’s good, because this town really needs you,” Paul said. He took a seat on a small chair next to the Sheriff’s bed.

  “There’s a lot going on unfortunately. We’re preparing for the Seventh Order. I imagine they’ll be here possibly by morning, depending on how angry we made them. Then again, they might not come at all.”

  The Sheriff began to cough as he clutched his side in pain.

  “You okay?” Paul asked.

  “Yeah,” the Sheriff said. “I’m fine. Just hand me that glass of water.”

  Paul handed him the water and the Sheriff took a badly needed sip.

  “You know, Paul, I’ve been a lot of places and seen a lot of things, but I’ll tell you, the world today, it’s changed so much. I don’t know if I can keep up with it. I mean, it was always a violent world, and after my wife passed away, I didn’t think it was a world worth living in anymore. But this town, these people, they mean everything to me. They’ve given me purpose. If I could end the suffering of this town by allowing the Seventh Order to kill me fifty times over, I’d do it.”

  “I’m sure everyone would be grateful to hear you say that, but I hardly doubt that’s necessary,” Paul said.

  “Yeah,” the Sheriff said, shifting in his bed. “Bad thing is I’m going to have to put the town on lockdown.”

  “Lockdown?” Paul asked.

  “Yeah, like a curfew, something to make sure everyone is safely inside their houses. I’ve already discussed it with the town council. No one comes in, no one goes out.”

  The Sheriff took notice of Paul’s lack of response and laughed.

  “Don’t worry, Paul. It’s not going into effect until you leave. I know you probably want to get out of here.”

  “I have to,” Paul said. “I don’t have a choice.”

  “Well, better be on your way then. Thanks for doing your part around here,” the Sheriff said, holding out his hand.

  “No, thank you, Sheriff, for giving us hope,” Paul said.

  After a strong handshake, Paul said farewell and walked to the door.

  “Paul,” the Sheriff said.

  Paul stopped and turned around.

  “You forgot to thank me for the free car too.”

  Paul stuttered nervously.

  “I…well, I thought. I mean, I was going to return the car to you after we found my wife, I thought that was our understanding.”

  The Sheriff laughed again.

  “I’m just messing with you. Bring it back in one piece, if you don’t mind.”

  Paul thanked the Sheriff again and left him to rest. He knew that they both understood there was a chance that he would never return, but such things were left unsaid. Paul walked out into the garage and put his backpack in the Malibu. He started the engine just to make sure then turned it off. He looked out into the town from the garage and noticed people hauling boards and materials down the street. They were working together in unison: men, women, and children--young and old. Toward the bunkers, Paul noticed another burial service taking place. This time for Alan, the man who had been shot earlier. Paul remembered him from the first night they arrived in New Haven. He had red hair and glasses and was genuinely a nice guy.

  The official New Haven cemetery had been set up near the bunker as there were now two bodies buried. Paul watched as a woman placed a 9mm pistol in the hand of little a girl not over ten years old. The woman held the girl while instructing her how to aim and fire. To his surprise, Paul watched as Tommy carried sheets of plywood down the sidewalk to the gates. He coughed along his way but moved swiftly and without complaints. For the first time during his stay in New Haven, Paul had serious doubts about leaving, at least while they needed help. Jordan came from around the corner and entered the garage carrying his backpack.

  “So what time are we hitting the road?” he asked.

  “You’re just as indecisive as me,” Paul said.

  “What do you mean?” Jordan asked.

  “I mean that we’re not leaving,” Paul said. “Not tonight.”

  Jordan dropped his backpack.

  “Are you serious?”

  “They need our help. I tried. I really did. Samantha might hate me for it, but we have to stay, at least one extra day to help them build the place up.”

  “She wouldn’t hate you. She’d be proud of you. It takes a certain kind of person to sit back and wait to be shot at by some crazy cult.”

  “Yes, a true genius with impeccable foresight.”

  Both men laughed as Jordan slapped Paul on the back.

  “Let’s grab some wood for the fencing and cult-proof this place,” Paul said.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The War

  Two days had gone by and nothing. The town placed extra sheets of plywood against the fencing that surrounded New Haven. An extra spool of concertina wire was also set on the top of the fence for reinforcement. Their efforts made it nearly impossible to climb or tear down any part of their secure fortress. The guard shifts consisted of four guards while a seven o’clock curfew had been imposed. The Sheriff had recovered during the last couple of days, as had most of their injured and sick. Contrary to Paul’s fears, Julie took their extra time at New Haven in stride. Jordan attempted to make amends with Margie. It wasn’t easy at first, but he decided to try a direct approach.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know the welfare of this town means everything to you, and I apologize for putting you in any position.”

  “It’s okay, I know you were just looking out for me, or at least, I think you were trying to look out for me,” Margie said while going through what medicine she had left.

  She tossed Jordan a bottle of ibuprofen.

  “If you really are sorry, then you can make it up to me by helping me out.”

  “Uh, sure. What do you need?”

  “I’ve got to make my rounds and see how everyone is doing. You can be my nursing assistant,” she said.

  “Nursing assistant? Quite an honor.”

  “Don’t be sarcastic.”

  “What?” Jordan laughed. “I’m not being sarcastic at all.”

  “Let’s go, funny man, we have work to do,” Margie said.

  She walked out of the door with Jordan in tow, carrying the supplies.

  After a couple of days, everything seemed to go back to a sense of normalcy, or as normal as things could get. The loss of their people still wore heavily, but calmness began to spread through the town. It was Day Eighteen, and the Seventh Order was nowhere to be seen. Paul, Julie, and Jordan agreed that they would leave New Haven the next morning for good. Paul had done all he felt he could. Finding Samantha was now the highest priority of al
l. Julie told Tommy that she would write to him and that she might even return once they found her mother. Jordan played it cool with Margie and told her that he would miss her and hoped to see her again. He wasn’t going to ask her if she wanted to leave again. He had learned his lesson the first time.

  The night of Day Eighteen, Paul put Julie to bed and went back to his room to get some sleep. Jordan was noticeably missing, though Paul could only guess. He laughed to himself when he pictured Jordan trying to put moves on Margie to no avail. Or maybe it had worked this time. Who knows? Paul turned over in bed. He went through their plan in his head. They would wake up at seven, have breakfast, and leave New Haven with the supplies that had been graciously donated by the townspeople. The Sheriff had also let him keep the shotgun. Paul yawned and tried to get comfortable, though his heart raced with excitement at the prospect of finding Samantha. Nothing would be in his way any longer. He looked at his cell phone on the nightstand. It had proved itself useless, no matter how many times he had tried to reach her. How simple it used to be to press a button and speak to someone.

  David stood at the gate with Rob, Carlie, and Melvin, who comprised the dedicated night watch team. Things had been quiet for a couple of days, but the calmness was not something to take for granted, they believed. Each one of them had witnessed the unpredictability of the Seventh Order and knew them to be capable of anything.

  “We should find them and take them out,” Carlie said, leaning against a light pole.

  “Take them out?” Melvin asked. “You know that there are children at their camp, right?”

  “There are children here too. It doesn’t have to be one or the other. We just get the ones that are trying to harm us,” Carlie reiterated.

  “That just sets the stage for collateral damage. It’s too risky,” Melvin said.

  “Whatever, sitting here and waiting on them is a bone-headed move,” Carlie said.

  “Let’s stop the bickering and keep watch like we’re supposed to,” Rob said.

  Carlie rolled her eyes and walked toward the front gate. The gate was covered with plywood on both sides. They had devised a lookout box, set at eye-level, to see outside the walls. David suggested guard towers, but the Sheriff told him the bunkers would have to come first. There was so much to do and no time to do it.

  Carlie peeked through the lookout box as she had done every five to ten minutes. She was used to seeing a dark, empty street before her, but as she flipped open the lookout box, she saw small flames in the air moving steadily toward them. The flames were attached to sticks. Upon closer inspection, Carlie could see that they were torches held by people. It looked like something out of a Frankenstein movie. She slammed the cover shut and turned to David.

  “Code red,” she said. “We’ve got outsiders approaching.”

  “Is it the cult?” Rob asked.

  “I don’t know,” Carlie said as she pulled the charging handle back on her rifle. “A bunch of them are out there, and they’re walking toward us.”

  Rob, Melvin, and David ran to the lookout box and pushed each other out of the way to get a look.

  “Toss me one of those flares,” David said while looking outside the gate. Carlie grabbed a flare from a nearby box and tossed it to David. He split it open and threw it over the gate. Its radiant red light illuminated the sky in a bright star that fell to the ground. David could see several people armed to the teeth as they marched toward the town. The ones carrying the torches stopped within fifty feet of the gate and began chanting.

  “Give us strength… give us light… give us all that we need to fight… the glory of the Seventh Order shall prevail.”

  Leading the chant was none other than Sister Bonnie. David instantly recognized her. He turned to his team.

  “It’s them. Alert the town. Get everyone out here now. Women and children in the bunkers.”

  “Plenty of the women can shoot. We’re not helpless.” Carlie quipped.

  “You know what I mean,” David said. “Whoever can help defend the gates, get ‘em out here. The rest get in the bunker.”

  Rob and Carlie jumped into their truck and drove fast as lightning through the streets, leaving David and Melvin at the gate. They repeatedly honked the unusually loud horn of their 1997 Nissan as they sped through the town, sounding the alarm. From the gate, David looked to Melvin.

  “Everyone better hurry up and get out here, these crazy fuckers mean business.”

  Rob and Carlie drove through the neighborhood in circles. People came out of their homes, confused and disoriented. Paul was in a deep sleep when he was woken by the blaring of the horn. At first, he tried to ignore it, thinking it an outside nuisance. Then it hit him: the Seventh Order was outside the gates.

  Paul jumped up. “This can’t be happening,” he said. He fell out of bed and grabbed his clothes. “This has to be a fucking joke.” He stood up and tried to put his jeans on, but he could barely see. With one leg in the air, Paul fell back into the nightstand and crashed on the ground. “Son of a bitch!” he yelled.

  A knock came at his door.

  “Paul, are you okay?” Julie’s voice said from outside.

  “I’m fine, Julie,” Paul said while lying on the floor.

  “What’s going on outside?” she asked.

  “It’s an alert, but everything is going to be okay,” Paul said.

  He stood up, threw a shirt on, and walked to the door. He instantly regretted everything. He regretted staying the extra couple of days. If the Seventh Order was outside the gates, as the alert indicated, he had officially put his life and that of Julie’s in danger. He felt that his feelings for the people of New Haven had misguided him. Or had they?

  “Everyone is running out of their homes. Are we in trouble?” Julie asked while looking out of the living room window.

  Paul entered the room carrying his shotgun. Julie’s eyes widened at the sight.

  “It’s the cult, isn’t it?” she asked.

  “Who told you about them?” Paul demanded.

  “Everyone has been talking about them. They want to take over the town,” Julie said.

  “That’s not true,” Paul said. “Some of them are a little crazy, but there’s no way they could do that.”

  Gunshots fired from outside, popping in ominous successions. Julie looked to Paul. “Sure doesn’t sound like it,” Julie said.

  Paul grabbed her. “Get in the bunker. Let’s move.”

  Julie pushed him away. “I’m not getting in some stupid bunker,” she said.

  “You have to. It’s too dangerous out there,” he said.

  Julie ran from him to the other side of the room. “I have a fear of tight spaces, and if you think that I’m getting into one of those tombs, you’re crazy,” she said sternly.

  “Julie, look,” Paul began.

  “No, I’m not doing it,” she interrupted.

  Paul looked out of the window and saw Jordan running down the street holding a hunting rifle. “What the hell is he doing out there?”

  Paul ran to the front door and spun around to Julie. “Go in your room, lock the door, hide under the bed, I don’t care. Just don’t leave until I come back.”

  Julie stood motionless, staring back at him.

  “You think you can handle that?” he said. “Can you do this one thing for me, please?”

  Paul was growing more agitated by the second. He saw that Julie was upset, so he attempted to change his tone.

  “I’m sorry for yelling at you, just please, please do what I ask. Your mother would kill me if anything happened to you.”

  “I can handle myself,” Julie said. “Or have you forgotten that?”

  “I haven’t. But it’s much too dangerous out there for you right now.”

  Paul walked closer to Julie and spoke in a more compassionate tone. “We’re going to leave just as planned. That’s why I need you to stay put.”

  Julie gave Paul an understanding nod.

  “Now I have to go. Don�
��t leave your room until I come back,” he said as he ran out the door.

  Nearly thirty townspeople stood by the front gate holding flashlights and weapons. The Sheriff walked to the front of the group.

  “Where’s the gunfire coming from?” he asked.

  David and Melvin ran to him. Rob and Carlie were still driving around the neighborhood, sounding the alarm.

  “They’re all over the place,” David said in a panic. “Sister Bonnie is out there surrounded by children. They’re holding torches and singing. It’s a diversion. I know it. The rest of them are trying to get over the walls. I guarantee it.”

  The Sheriff thought to himself. His mind was hazy, and he still had gauze wrapped around his stomach. “We need groups to cover the entire perimeter.”

  “We’re going to have to move fast. They’re not wasting any time. It looks like negotiations are over with,” David said.

  “Who fired the first shots? Was it our group or theirs?” the Sheriff asked.

  “It was me, Sheriff,” Jordan said, raising his hand. “Sorry, I’m a little rusty. It was an accidental discharge.”

  “Five times?” the Sheriff asked.

  “Well, I only fired once,” Jordan replied.

  “I don’t know where the rest of the shots came from. I’m not sure what tactics they’re using,” David said.

  The Sheriff looked to Jordan. “You were in the Army once, right?

  “Retired, yes,” Jordan reiterated.

  “Use some of that old Army training now. Take a small team and sweep the perimeter of the town. All three square miles of it.”

  “You have more vehicles, right?” Jordan asked.

  Jordan looked around and saw a group of people looking to him for guidance: teachers, bank tellers, landscapers, electricians, mechanics, cashiers, and accountants ready to defend the town as needed.