End Days Super Boxset

by Hayden, Roger

  Scott narrowed his eyes. Bryce's hot accusatory breath against his face angered him further. “You want to place the blame on me? Who's the spoiled child now?”

  Bryce poked his finger against Scott's chest. “It was your idea to steal that money in the first place. And we listened to you. Then you said, ‘Let's go to our cabin retreat and bring Gordon and, you know, murder him like we're a couple of fucking gangsters.’ And again we all said, ‘Good idea, Scott. Where do you get all these great ideas?’ Now here we are, lost in the woods in the middle of nowhere, and you want to start a war with some group living out here. No thanks, we're doing it my way for once.”

  Scott was beside himself. His face twitched in suppressed rage. He did everything to prevent lashing out at his one remaining coworker and supposed friend. “You can blame me all you want, but guess what? Guess what, Bryce? Each of you had the choice to listen to me or tell me to fuck off. But you didn't, did you? You went along because you're weak, all of you. That's why you sucked at the firm, and that's why you came to me with your money problems. And I had a plan to help us out, and none of you objected until now.”

  “I take full responsibility in following you off the cliff, but I say at this point, no more. I'm taking charge. We're doing things my way, or we don't do them at all,” Bryce said.

  “What's your plan, oh great one?” Scott said, tipping an imaginary hat.

  “We follow the dirt road back to their house. When we get there, we take a look under that tarp you were pointing out. But we have to do it quietly. If one of their cars starts, we take it. Simple as that. They'll never know that we were there.”

  Scott scratched the scruffy red beard around his chin. “I don't know.”

  “You said yourself that this EMP story was bullshit,” Bryce said.

  “Yeah, but it's not like they're going to have the keys in the ignition.”

  “Where do you think I was raised?” Bryce said, with his hand over his chest. “I'm from the Bronx. You don't think I know how to hot-wire a car?”

  Scott raised his hands defensively. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to underestimate your criminal background.”

  Bryce walked toward the dirt road leading to the bug-out house. “Just follow my lead and try to keep quiet.”

  “Wait up,” Scott said as he ran after Bryce, following him to the dirt road that led to the bug-out house. Bryce stopped for a moment and took a deep breath.

  Scott stopped at his side. “What is it?” he asked.

  “Smells like fish.”

  “Fish?” Scott asked.

  “Breathe it in,” Bryce said. “Someone's cookin' fish.”

  Scott smelled the faint aroma of grilled salmon. “Hot damn,” he said. “You think it's our new friends?” he asked.

  “Guess we'll find out soon enough,” Bryce said. With one foot forward, he continued his trek toward his destination with Scott in tow.

  Dinner was being served at the bug-out house. Everyone ate in the living room, as they didn’t feel comfortable going outside. A kerosene lamp rested on a small table near the couch, providing a flicker of light. The room was quiet save for the sound of forks scraping against plates. The salmon—seasoned and grilled—was a treat, along with a small portion of steamed vegetables. As they devoured the meal, there was a mutual desire for seconds, even among Paula and Tobias. They were not heavy eaters normally but longed for more. However, there wasn't enough for seconds. With each passing day, the need for rationing became clearer.

  Tobias ate the last bite of his salmon and stared at his empty plate. “I could lick this plate clean right now,” he said, followed by an unexpected burp. “Excuse me,” he added.

  From the couch, Janice looked at James sitting across from her and burst out laughing. Mark, sitting next to her on the couch, looked up startled and smiled. Christina, sitting on a recliner, looked to Terrance, who was beside her in a lounge chair, and began to laugh. The laughter spread to Terrance, then to James. Paula and Tobias were dumbfounded.

  “What's so funny?” Tobias asked.

  “Nothing, nothing at all, sweetheart,” Christina said.

  “You guys will laugh at anything,” Paula said.

  James stood up and stretched. “Well that was some pretty good fish, if I do say so myself.”

  “Yes, thank you, James,” Janice said.

  “Excellent meal,” Mark agreed.

  “Compliments to the chef,” Terrance added.

  James put his hand over his chest, feigning modesty. “My pleasure.”

  “Yes, very good,” Christina said.

  “Wish there was more,” Paula said, sharing the sentiments of everyone in the room. Mark and Janice stood up and walked to the kitchen.

  “Anyone up for a game of cards?” James said.

  Terrance looked around the room and then to Tobias. “I think it’s about time that Tobias and I hit the road.”

  “Where are you going?” Paula asked, surprised.

  Terrance suddenly realized that he hadn’t told Paula anything.

  Tobias interjected. “We’re going back to get Richie,” he said.

  “I wanna go,” Paula said, excited.

  “No,” Christina said.

  “You need to stay here with your mother,” Terrance said.

  “But why does Tobias get to go?” Paula asked.

  “That’s enough,” Terrance said, rising from his chair. “Tobias, let’s get ready.”

  “Ok,” Tobias said. He got up and walked to his room as Paula crossed her arms in silence, sulking.

  “So anyone else up for a game of cards?” James asked.

  ***

  Terrance went outside into the backyard, carrying a flashlight. He carefully lifted up the large tarp covering their vehicles and removed it, exposing the van. He hadn’t started the van in two days and hoped that it would run. They had been pretty lucky so far. He was uneasy about their van and always paused slightly before turning the ignition. If he had learned anything, it was that the aftermath of EMP strikes were entirely unpredictable.

  The driver’s-side door creaked as he opened it, badly in need of some WD-40. He climbed in, put the key in the ignition, and faced the uncomfortable moment in which he was sure that fate was against him. If he could leave the van running all day just to ensure that it would start, he would do it. But such an option wasn’t available, EMP or not.

  He turned the key, and the van choked to life. He pressed on the gas pedal to give it some juice as exhaust billowed out of the muffler. The fuel gauge read at half a tank. He hoped they had enough fuel reserves in the shed. Many of the five-gallon cans had already been dispensed over the past week for the generator. Terrance hoped that the trip was worth it. He hoped that Richie would come back with them without a fuss. The more he thought about their objective, the more ridiculous it sounded. Here he was, a father, trying to coax his eighteen-year-old son to come back to the bug-out house with him, a place he knew Richie didn’t like, with or without Gabrielle. He needed a miracle.

  Christina walked down the porch steps and into the backyard carrying a flashlight. Tobias was behind her with his backpack. She was relieved to see the van was running. She might see her older son yet. She walked to the side of the van and opened the door, then placed her hands on Tobias’s shoulder.

  “Now you keep an eye on your father out there, and make sure he’s OK,” she said.

  “I will, Mom,” Tobias said.

  “And you stay safe. Come back with your brother. And no fighting.”

  “OK,” Tobias said, nodding.

  She pulled him closer and hugged him. “I’ll pray for both of you. I love you.”

  She squeezed tightly, and Tobias wondered if she was going to let him go. Any time his mom said that she loved him, he had always said, “OK,” or “all right.” He had been uncomfortable about saying it before, but not then. “Love you too,” he said. Christina released him from her grip, and Tobias climbed in. “Bye, Mom,” he said.

&n
bsp; “Goodbye,” she said, closing the door. She walked around the front of the van to the driver's side. He sat at the wheel, revving the engine in controlled intervals.

  “How’s it running?” she asked.

  “Just fine,” Terrance said. “I’m going to need to take some fuel cans with me. If I get a chance to refill them, I will.”

  “How are you going to do that?” she asked.

  “Siphon them from nonworking cars,” he said. “What else am I going to do?”

  “OK, got it, mister know-it-all,” she said. “You take care of yourself,” she said.

  “I will. I always do,” Terrance said, squeezing her gently.

  “Get our boy home, and make sure to keep Tobias safe. I’m counting on you,” she said.

  “I know,” Terrance said.

  Christina released Terrance with a pat on his back. “You take care,” she said, closing the van door. Terrance looked ahead and put the van into drive.

  “You good to go?” he asked Tobias.

  “I’m ready,” Tobias said from the back seat.

  The van moved forward. For Terrance, it felt great being back behind the wheel. A week at the bug-out house was starting to wear on him. Christina stood to the side and waved them off as the van drove around the house, down the hill, and onto the dirt road leading to the highway.

  ***

  Bryce and Scott discreetly watched from the bushes near the house as the van left. They had been there for some time, staking the house out. Two other vehicles could be seen in the distance, no longer covered by the tarp. The men took instant notice.

  “I fucking knew it,” Scott said quietly. “Couldn’t give us a ride into town? You see now?”

  “It’s unfortunate that they lied to us, but that’s neither here nor there. We have to get one of those vehicles,” Bryce said.

  “Let’s do it,” Scott said, walking forward.

  Bryce clutched his arm and pulled him back. “Not yet!” he said.

  Scott turned to him, annoyed. “The hell is your problem?”

  “We have to be patient. Now’s not the time,” Bryce said. He leaned forward and pointed toward the front window of the house. There was a small glow behind the curtain. “You see that light? They’re still up. All it takes is one of them to come outside at the wrong time, and that’s it for us. They will not hesitate to shoot us. We’re in no man’s land out here.”

  “How long will it take you to hot-wire one of those cars?” Scott asked.

  Bryce scratched his scruffy chin. “First off, we need to pick the one with the most fuel. If I can’t get one to start, we’ll have to move on to the next one.”

  “How long?” Scott asked again, getting anxious.

  “I don’t know, a couple of minutes,” Bryce answered. “Cool your jets.”

  “You do what you gotta do, and I’ll be your lookout. I’ll stand by the back door, and if anyone comes out of that house, I’ll sound the alarm.”

  “What alarm?”

  “My fist in their face,” Scott said with a laugh.

  “You some kind of tough guy now?” Bryce said.

  “I want to get these people, Bryce. I want to teach them a lesson they won’t forget.”

  “We’ll teach them a lesson. You just need to remain cool. Don’t do anything stupid,” Bryce said.

  They ducked back behind the bushes at the sound of a door opening from the house. Once it closed, they slowly rose and waited.

  Hellfire

  Later that night, Christina put Paula to bed, slightly against her own will. “But I’m not tired,” Paula said. She had spent the night pouting over her exclusion from the Atlanta trip. She wanted to get out of the house and was starting to feel like a prisoner in her own childish way. It had been a long day for everyone, and Christina felt it best to call it a night. This was a sentiment shared by everyone but Paula and James. Paula was angry. James wanted to play cards. Mark and Janice were eager to get some rest, hoping that the next day would bring news of recovery, news that seemed less likely with each passing day.

  “Everything will be all right soon,” Christina said to Paula, tucking her in.

  “I’m sick of being here,” Paula said. “I want to go home. I miss my friends. I miss everyone.”

  “This is the best we can do right now, Paula. We have each other, and that’s the most important thing.”

  “I know. It’s just—how do we know if things have got better if we never leave the house?”

  “We have the radio, and listen to it daily. We have to trust each other with our safety and with our lives.” Christina stopped and looked around the room. “Look on the bright side, at least you have the room to yourself for a little bit.”

  Paula nodded. “I guess you’re right,” she said.

  Christina leaned down and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Now get some rest, and I’ll make us some breakfast tomorrow morning.”

  “OK, Mom,” she said.

  Christina switched off the battery-operated reading light attached to Paula’s bed and stood up. “Good night, sweetie.”

  “Good night,” Paula said, yawning.

  Christina walked into the living room wearing her bathrobe and noticed James on the recliner playing solitaire. The cards were laid out on a TV tray in his lap.

  “Couldn’t get any takers?” she asked.

  James looked up, startled. “Are you game?”

  “I think I’m going to call it a night,” she said, rubbing her eyes.

  “Very well,” James said. “Just leave this old man to his cards.”

  Christina smiled and went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. She came back into the living room carrying the glass. “Goodnight, James.”

  “Night,” he said, throwing down a card.

  “James,” she said, stopping at the hallway.

  He turned toward her. She was barely visible. “Yes?”

  “We are going to be safe here, right?” she asked.

  “I hope so,” James answered. “I really do.”

  “Me too,” she said. After a pause, she disappeared into the darkness of the hallway and left James to his cards. It was a game he was quite familiar with.

  James had lived a solitary life longer than he could remember. Having people around the house was nice. He felt important again. He felt needed. It was similar to how he felt when teaching. He missed the university and his students. He too wanted everything to be fixed. But the problem, as he saw it, wasn’t the EMP alone. The loss of electricity was just a tipping point to a new era of unrest and lawlessness. A civil war, James thought, was in the making. It would be a war over basic necessities. He shared these thoughts with no one while pulling a flask of whiskey from his coat pocket. He unscrewed the cap, and took a hearty swig to calm his nerves.

  ***

  Bryce and Scott had been hidden behind the bushes near the house for so long that they nearly fell asleep themselves. Scott jumped up, noticing ants crawling up his pant leg.

  “Son of a bitch!” he said. “Look out, there are ants around here.”

  Bryce was seated against a tree, not paying Scott any mind. “Just brush ‘em off, and keep your voice down.”

  “I think we’ve been here long enough. It’s time to make our move,” Scott said, feverishly brushing off the pant leg of his jeans.

  “For once, we’re in agreement,” Bryce said, rising from the ground.

  Scott swatted at his own face. “Fucking mosquitoes are ridiculous too. Who the hell could live out here?”

  “Just ignore them,” Bryce said.

  “I would if I could, genius. They’re biting the shit out of me. I hate the sticks, I really do.”

  Bryce approached Scott and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Pull yourself together. Let’s do this,” he said calmly.

  Scott stopped griping and nodded with intent focus.

  “Now listen to me very carefully,” Bryce said. “We can assume they’re all sleeping, but you never know. We have to
be quiet. It’s going to be damn near impossible for me to see what the hell I’m doing in either car, but I’ll try my best. All I want you to do is stand watch of the house. If you hear any noise—anything—let me know. If we’re made, we run off. That’s it. No confrontation. Nothing. We disappear. That’s the only way I’m doing this.”

  “If they come out shooting, we’ll need to be able to defend ourselves. I’m not just going to roll over.”

  “If it comes down to that, our greatest concern is not getting shot. That’s it. If I start one of the engines, haul ass to the car as quick as you can, and we’ll drive it off, hopefully before they realize what happened. Got it?”

  “Yes, Bryce. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “So do I,” Bryce said.

  They emerged from the bushes in front of the house and slowly crept along its side to the backyard where the two exposed vehicles awaited them. The house itself was shrouded in complete darkness. Not a light was on or a curtain open. It looked abandoned, but they knew better.

  They knew that Terrance and Tobias had left earlier in the van. To their estimates, five persons remained in the house, including the little girl, Paula. Scott examined the house as they walked alongside it. Everything about the house seemed strange: the location, the security, and the secrets inside that he longed to know.

  “Keep close,” Bryce said. “And keep your eyes open.”

  Scott grew annoyed with Bryce’s repeated commands but kept his mouth shut. He did, after all, need Bryce’s supposed mechanical skills. Once Bryce got the car started, if he got it started, his importance to Scott would then be in question. He might even, Scott thought, be expendable. They crept along, getting closer to the two vehicles with each quiet footstep on the soft, moist grass.

  In plain view, they could see one car and one truck. They were old American models and looked like something out of an antique show. The white Ford truck seemed practical for their purposes, but the red Plymouth Roadrunner looked just as appealing. They would also have to consider the gas mileage. It was at that moment, Scott made an intriguing observation.