Surrender the Sun Series Boxset: Books 1-3 Apocalyptic Dystopian Thriller

by AR Shaw

  As he made his way down the concrete corridor, the one thought he’d often had, as his boots echoed on the concrete floor, was how tomblike this converted cold-war missile silo seemed. Though now converted into livable condition, he could imagine the original workers down here living and working in the branched-off pods, maybe ascending their steps and walking outside on the barren fields occasionally just to see the sun or to catch a nondescript government vehicle to take a holiday home with their families, always returning to work in a dull landscape, descending the stairs below to a world not seen by civilians, and knowing you may never return to the surface, since there was a big-ass Trident missile down there with you.

  Must have been scary as hell.

  “Walt?”

  He turned and found Bishop catching up to him. “Hey, you didn’t have to get up this early.”

  “Pphff! I’ve been up for hours. Listen, I talked on the radio with Austin. It looks like they’re ready to go. They said if the ones who are listed to go this round don’t show up, they have backups for those seats.”

  “Okay, man, I don’t envy how they chose who goes first. Did you ask?”

  “No, I left it up to them. Maybe they drew numbers. I don’t know except get in and get them out. Do not let them hold you.”

  Walt nodded. That was his plan too. “Not a problem. I don’t intend to dawdle. Got a family here. Hey, Bishop, if for some reason…”

  Bishop held up his hand to cease the conversation.

  “Don’t even go there.”

  With a straight smile, he knew what Bishop meant, and he also knew he’d do the same for him given the circumstances.

  They were connected now, these two men. Complete strangers weeks before were now brothers, and their families were connected.

  “All right.”

  Up above, in the entryway, Yeager yelled over the wind, “Negative thirty-three feels the same as negative twenty! Makes no difference!”

  Walt disagreed. Perhaps it was Yeager’s way of cheering him up, but as suited up as he was for the weather, there was definitely a notable difference.

  They’d ran out to the Osprey with goggles on their faces to protect their eyes from the blowing snow in the short distance they might be exposed. Since the ice age began, it amazed him that their eyes never actually froze over. As one of those morbid curiosities, he’d only seen frozen eyes on a corpse. Since tears were made of saltwater and continually flushed with fresh fluids, the worst that happened to his surprise was the gumming up of the eyelids occasionally, reasoning that since our eyes are set farther back in our heads anyway, that was probably a good design. Humans could sustain harsh temperature extremes historically, though they were just getting a reminder.

  That, however, didn’t prevent frostbite to the face. He’d seen far too many people protect their eyes with goggles, only to leave their cheeks and noses exposed to the elements. Once frozen, you didn’t feel the effects until later, especially when the skin swelled, turned red, and then black as coal. Too many children, when this all started, now bore permanent loss of appendages due to this forgotten lesson. That’s why he always made his people wear knit masks. No one was allowed to have exposed skin anywhere on their bodies. You might think your eyes were the most important thing to cover, but they were actually the least likely to freeze with their built-in antifreeze system.

  Before long, the inside cabin warmed up, and the engines were making their revving noise. Yeager joined him, as well as two others. They were all armed and ready for battle, which was comforting, though he wished they could spare more men for the trip. The more the safer, come what may, was his motto these days.

  Slapping the back of his hand against Yeager’s sleeve to get his attention, he motioned once again that they were lifting. Glancing once more toward the nondescript entrance to his life underground, he began the ascent, lifting up and away into the dark, blowing abyss.

  31

  Watching what he could see in the dark morning sky, Bishop prayed internally to any god to please see the mission through as the Osprey lifted away.

  The soldiers on guard watched and waited out in the field, ready to strike anyone on attack, and when the Osprey was safely on its way, they all hustled out of the wind and back underground.

  The door now closed with an audible and distinct clang. It was a sound of finality, and Bishop was having a hard time dealing with the tomblike signal.

  His family was below, in their apartment, and he knew they were safe. What he didn’t know was for how long. For all he knew, the local scavengers had organized again, and he needed to deal with them before they were caught off guard, as they were on their way.

  “Cassie,” he said as she brushed snow from her gear, “what can you tell me about the locals? What’s the issue?”

  Without visibly trying to suppress the sarcasm, she said, “We have stuff. And they don’t.”

  “Yeah, smartass. Like the rest of the world.”

  Walking through the corridor in cadence, he tried again, “What was Geller’s policy dealing with them? Did he hear them out? Negotiate with them? What?”

  As they went into a room lined with lockers, she began placing her outdoor gear away. “No. He never spoke to them. There was never a Kumbaya moment. He never heard them out, gave them anything, or listened to their demands. Geller was a monster; we all knew it. We’re just not willing to trade one monster for another.” She slammed her locker closed then with a clang.

  She was tough but not as tough as Bishop.

  Just then, two other soldiers came inside, sneering at one another. One shoved the other from behind, and Cassie exploded.

  “I have told you two to knock this crap off!”

  The staff room continued to fill with soldiers. Some of them just stood there as the two opponents glared at one another.

  “What the hell is going on here?” Bishop asked.

  Visibly frustrated, Cassie tried to explain. “They hate each other. This has been going on for weeks, and I said that was enough!”

  Cassie was tough, and it was clear she’d been around soldiers and held her own among them, though he found it surprising she didn’t understand men in the slightest.

  “This has been going on for weeks?”

  “Yeah, they keep trying to kill each other.”

  Not wanting to embarrass her in front of her men, he motioned for her to step outside in the hallway.

  “I know it’s not conventional, but give them three minutes to go at it.”

  “What! They’ll kill each other.”

  “No, they won’t. It takes longer than three minutes to kill a man barehanded, trust me. No weapons. I learned this from an old oil-field boss man. Whenever there were altercations between his men, he always gave them three minutes. But that’s it—win, lose, or draw. He couldn’t afford to have them screwing up in a very dangerous environment, and you can’t either. They won’t stop. You can see it in their eyes. Three minutes, and that’s it.”

  Shaking her head, she said, “You’re nuts, but, hell, I’ll give it a try.”

  He started to walk away when she said, “Thanks, Bishop…for not showing me up in there.”

  He nodded. She had a tough enough time keeping them in line as any man would. As he continued on his way, he heard her yell, “That’s it. You’ve got three minutes. Go at it!”

  All hell broke loose after that. Yelling and the crunching of metal ensued as he imagined one of them pile-drive the other into the metal wall lockers. Bishop actually stopped and looked back for a minute. “Maybe I should’ve said two.”

  32

  Later that day, the frozen landscape of Coeur d’Alene came into view with the hotel standing sentinel.

  For some reason Walt couldn’t help but glance over to where they stacked the dead bodies like logs forming a pyramid, finding that not only had it grown but also there was now another formation like cordwood.

  Landing was easy; they’d radioed ahead, and refueling waited
nearby. Once they were done with that, Austin met him at the door.

  “Are you guys ready?” Austin asked.

  “Are you? I can’t imagine how you chose who goes first.”

  “Well, I can’t say it was easy, but Jax and I came up with a plan. Here they come.”

  That’s when Walt looked outside and watched as several large covered carts came their way. Five people pulled the steel shelving unit on wheels, and for a second Walt wasn’t sure what was going on. Then they removed one end of the blanket and reached inside. Someone drew out what looked like an enclosed clear plastic case. There was a bundle inside, something wrapped in a light-blue blanket. And the first one was handed quickly to Austin, and then he handed that one to Yeager, who, in turn, handed the case to a teenage girl who scurried back and forth inside the Osprey as yet another caser seat was loaded.

  Walt couldn’t believe his eyes. Though it was so cold, he didn’t dare argue as the babies were being exposed briefly to the elements as they were. He wanted nothing more than to get them inside where it was warm, before he ripped Austin’s head off.

  Luckily, several more young ladies came out bundled up, carrying yet more bundled infants to toddler-age children. For a minute, Walt wasn’t sure who was in charge.

  With the door closed finally and the cabin warming up, Walt said, “What?” in just above a whisper, but it was barely audible because some of the teens were smiling at him. A few looked down frightened, while the others seemed excited that they were going on an adventure. A few of the babies cried out at the sudden change of atmosphere. Walt shook his head. He was not able to form any more words; he hoped Austin might fathom why he was at a loss.

  Swallowing, Austin said in a low tone, “We’ve already had a few reports of local cannibalism. Jax and I felt this was the best remedy for the greater survival.”

  “Did I miss this somewhere? Who did not tell me this ahead of time?” Walt put his hands on his hips and turned his back to Austin while he looked on at the inside cabin.

  Yeager looked totally confused as a teen girl placed a crying infant into his arms. His eyes grew wide, beseeching someone for help as his rifle hung to the side.

  Walt understood why they’d chosen this way, but had they told him ahead of time, he could have at least brought Alyssa with him. But then, again, he couldn’t separate her from their boys. There were no easy answers. Turning back to Austin, he asked him, “The parents went along with this?”

  “We didn’t give them much choice. The next flight will hold slightly older babies and slightly younger teens and so on and so forth until we have room for the women and then the men.”

  “I see. Well, we’re wasting time. Let’s get going.”

  The door guard quickly opened the door and then closed it after Austin left. Yeager went around and strapped all the modified incubators down and into the jump seats to make sure each baby was tethered down and that they didn’t end up as missiles within the cabin, noting that each incubator had a harness strap adjusted around the infant to keep the baby still within the case. The older babies were in car seats. The teen girls looked both giddy and frightened at the same time. They each sat with their assignees. By the time they took off, the cabin was a cacophony of infant wailing. Walt shook his head. This would be the most chaotic flight he’d ever taken.

  Looking at the hotel window, the most heartbreaking sight of all was several mothers and fathers watching terrified while he took their babies away. Who knew if they’d ever make it to their final destination to meet up with their children once again? He questioned the logic again, but then, again, he was still very happy he had not had to make the decision—especially this one. He predicted that Yeager, the tough weapons and explosives expert, would flee through the door as soon as they landed. He chuckled to himself, but there was no way even he could hear his own laughter over the infants wailing in the back.

  33

  “Bishop!” Cassie called from down the hall as he looked over the extensive inventory rooms. He’d been down there awhile with a few of the other security personnel. He’d been briefed that they had more than enough supplies and seeds for gardening. He had no idea what more than enough looked like and for how long. He wanted to see what that meant. So when he followed the woman named Carmen down to the lowest floor he’d visited yet, he walked into a room and couldn’t believe his eyes. There was indeed more than enough. With floor-to-twelve-foot-ceiling racks, the space was covered in pallets of supplies. It was like having five Costco stores stacked end to end. Everything imaginable was down there in nonperishable form. It must have taken Geller years to assemble all of it, and apparently there were five rooms like this down there.

  “Yeah?”

  “We just heard a radio call from Walt.”

  “And? Everything okay?”

  “Uh…I’m not sure. I could barely understand him. There was a lot of background noise. It was confusing at first, but their ETA is in ten.”

  “Background noise?”

  “Sounded like…wailing. Probably just the rotor and wind noise, but I’ve never heard it sound like that before.”

  “Well, we’ll find out soon.” Turning to Carmen, he said, “Can you grab a cart and bring up some supplies for the newcomers?”

  She gave him a thin smile and nodded as he left. There was something about the way Alyssa regarded Carmen that made him also suspicious of her. Alyssa often gave her clipped answers, and he wasn’t sure what had happened between them, but he was also wary of her. If Alyssa didn’t trust her, he had a reason not to trust her as well. And then again, he didn’t know why he shouldn’t give her a chance. Though, in his mind, he felt they just didn’t have time for things like that any longer. Society couldn’t afford second chances again. If you were a bad person in one person’s eyes, then that was the way of it for all. He didn’t like the attitude, but he had more important things to do now.

  As he was making his way back up the flights of stairs, he heard a man yell and then another. At first he thought it was the two guys possibly going at it again, but then he heard more shouting and boots running and then Cassie calling orders. “Oh, damn.”

  He realized then what it was. As the Osprey was coming in for a landing, so too were the locals forming an attack.

  He ran into a controlled chaos. Peering outside the window, he saw in the distance the darkness of the too-early late-afternoon heralded torches of the locals. They were lined up afar as the Osprey was coming in for a landing. In the next room, Cassie shouted into the mic, “Not now! Don’t land, don’t land!” Though every time she keyed, there was so much noise coming from the cabin that Bishop doubted Walt heard a word she relayed. And he could swear it was nothing but babies wailing their heads off. With a horrified look, Bishop asked, “Babies?”

  Cassie looked at him with an expression of horror. “Sounds like at least a few!” she yelled. “He can’t land yet. Look out there. It’ll be a massacre.”

  He looked again through the surveillance cameras in the control room, and his heart sank. There was indeed at least fifty armed men out there, and they all knew the Osprey was coming in for a landing.

  “Ordinances?”

  “We have some. How many men do we have?”

  “Twenty-three.”

  “No way in hell that’s going to work, and we don’t even have Yeager with us. Not against an army like that.” He peered at the monitor again. “Son of a…secure the lower levels. Get me…uh…do we have an outdoor mic? I haven’t even had enough time to look around.”

  “Yes,” she shouted, tossing a radio unit. After flipping a few switches, she said, “Use channel seven.”

  He keyed the mic a few times and then nothing…the Osprey was hovering around and attempting to land. Bishop tossed the unit down on the counter and said, “To hell with it. Let’s do this the old-fashioned way.”

  He layered up and grabbed a set of keys to the many snowmobiles sitting outside. One of the two men, who had a black eye along wi
th his rifle, he ordered, “You’re with me.”

  “You’re going out there to talk to them?” Cassie shouted after him and tossed him a bullhorn.

  “Yes. Have had enough of this. Let Walt land and get Yeager out there. We might need him and his bag of tricks, if this goes south. And it’s going south already.”

  He then ran with the others behind him. There was no use hearing—or seeing, for that matter—much of what was going on. If it wasn’t the sound of the Osprey hovering above them, it was the wind itself.

  With every inch of skin covered, they still felt as though their faces were freezing right off, not to mention their hands, even with the warming units built into their gloves. He would never get used to the feeling of having his breath stolen as soon as he stepped out in the horrid cold. Bishop sped out straight with only the two soldiers on either side. As he passed, the Osprey began to settle down toward the ground, the wind wiping the snow around like a hurricane. With their outside lights reflecting off each crystal, visibility was even more of a challenge. A swirling tornado of white surrounded the landing area, especially with the 60 mph downcast from the Osprey’s rotors.

  Then only half a mile farther, a line awaited. Three snowmobiles broke from the center. He assumed they understood they were willing to talk. Otherwise, the entire line would have commenced on them. This was a show of force, if he ever saw one. So it was a relief to see a few break from the center and come his way. The scene before him wasn’t lost on Bishop. Here they were in the year 2030, and yet it could have been mistaken from medieval times with a line of soldiers ready for war atop horses instead of snowmobiles. That’s how far they’d sunk in just a few short months. Man was always ready for war, but their equipment came and went.