SUNFALL: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Fiction Series: Book 2: ADVENT

by D. Gideon

  “I’m nothing but quality,” Tabitha said, rubbing a finger in a circle on her bared stomach. “Touch and see.”

  He stepped towards her, his movements graceful and cat-like. The rain made his white dress shirt nearly see-through, and it clung to him, showing off lean muscle. Ellie would say he was sex on a stick. With all of the romance books Ellie had borrowed and re-borrowed from the prison library, she probably had a dozen different ways to describe him.

  “I’ll start by kissing you,” he said, stopping almost an arm’s length away. “Long, and slow. When I’m finished, your head will spin.”

  He put a finger under her chin and tilted her head back, then wrapped his warm hand around the back of her neck, pushing up into her wet hair. Her heart raced. God, it felt good. She tightened her hand around the handle of the knife, just in case he tried anything funny.

  His other hand wrapped around the bottom of her jaw, thumb rubbing the corner of her mouth, and he stepped closer, lowering his face towards hers. She opened her mouth to receive his kiss, her breath heavy.

  Her neck snapped so fast that her brain didn’t even have time to register the sound.

  Marco lowered the woman’s body to the ground and picked up the chef’s knife. It was high quality, with a heavy handle and a full tang. He tried flexing the spine and it barely moved. He tilted it in the dreary light and saw “Zwilling Pro” etched on the side. When he’d seen the woman so close to catching the child, there hadn’t been time to go to the back of the camper and get his knife. Grabbing one of the guns was out; the sound would draw more people. Those people might be prisoners helping this woman. This knife would do.

  “Is she dead?” Aiden asked from his spot by the crash pole. Marco looked over his shoulder and considered the child. If he lied, would it lessen the nightmares? Aiden had told him there was another woman in his house who had his parents tied up. Just seeing that, and being chased…there was nothing Marco could do or say that would soothe the child’s memory of this night. He remembered when he’d been a little boy. Nothing had kept away the nightmares.

  “She’s dead,” Marco said. “She can’t wake up and come for you. She can’t hurt anyone ever again.”

  Aiden didn’t say anything, but just stared at the body.

  Marco waited, and as the silence stretched out, the rain started to pick up again.

  “When I was a little boy, bad people came into my house too,” he said. “They hurt us, and they kept coming back. My parents asked everyone they knew to help them. Neighbors, friends…they all refused. They were too scared. No one would help.”

  He stood, and held out his hand.

  “Take me to your house, and I will help your parents,” he said.

  Chapter 37

  Thursday, September 6th

  Salisbury, Maryland

  Ellie was livid. Her window of opportunity was closing. Soon, the other inmates would be combing through this neighborhood and if they came in here, she’d be expected to share. She wasn’t much for sharing. She’d only brought Tabitha along because it was easier to overpower a person when you had help. Ellie was planning on dumping that dumb bitch the first chance she got. But first, they had to get moving.

  When the Warden had gathered the women from her cell block together and announced that they were being released by Governor’s orders, Ellie had thought it was a trick. There had been rumors of other cell blocks emptying out yesterday, but the guards used tricks like that all the time to get what they wanted. Like being forced to her knees in a janitor’s closet before she could visit with her brother that had driven all the way down from New York City. A double-team in solitary with the cameras turned off if she wanted library privileges that week. Being told she’d been summoned for a disciplinary meeting and following the corrections officer, only to be led to the laundry and getting bent over a dryer. She had ample reasons not to trust this.

  But the Warden herself had watched as they loaded onto the prison bus with nothing but the red inmate outfits they were wearing. The Somerset County Detention Center didn’t keep prisoner clothes and belongings at the facility. If your family didn’t pick up your stuff within thirty days of your incarceration, the prison would dispose of it. They hadn’t even been allowed to go back to their cells and grab photos.

  They’d ridden the bus all the way up to Route 50 and had been dropped off in the parking lot of a Greyhound bus station. No money, no tickets; just three rifles pointed at them and a disgusted “Get the fuck off of my bus” from the driver.

  There had been Norms—normal people, not inmates—standing under the bus station awning smoking cigarettes and talking. Some of them had hustled inside when they saw the prison bus unload and drive away. Most of the inmates had headed inside; whether to beg for tickets or just get out of the rain, Ellie didn’t know. Norms were soft targets. They could be conned or threatened out of any money they were carrying. The rest of the inmates scattered, heading for the highway to put distance between themselves and the bus station before the Warden could change her mind.

  She’d held Tabitha back, weighing her options. She turned slowly, looking across the vast parking lot to the Sunoco station across the intersection. She couldn’t make out much through the rain, but there were no lights and no activity, even in the middle of the afternoon. There were no cars flying by on the highway, and in fact she’d only seen two cars on the road during the ride from the prison. She’d been too busy trying to figure out the trick in this whole thing for that to register at the time, but it stood out to her now.

  Normally there weren’t buses parked at a bus station. They’d be idling outside dropping off or picking up passengers, but they wouldn’t be parked. She could see three buses parked in the lot.

  It hit her. There was no power here on the outside, either. It hadn’t just been a fuck-up at the prison or a tactic to make them behave. Which meant they had a small window of opportunity, a bit of a jump on the other prisoners to find a way out of here.

  They needed clothes that didn’t scream criminal, and they needed a car. She’d spotted a development of houses—McMansions, her brother had always called them—a little further down the road. When the last of her cell block mates had gone inside, she’d grabbed Tabitha and headed for the houses.

  The first two houses on the street were a no-go. They had vehicles sitting outside their garages, and when she crept up next to them, she caught the faded smell of gasoline. A quick check underneath showed stains on the pristine concrete. They’d been spiked. The third house was either empty, or they were smart enough to keep their car locked away. She’d left Tabitha to watch the back while she crept around the front, stretching up to peek in the windows. She was thankful for the heavy mist from the rain; it would keep nosy neighbors from looking outside.

  She’d almost been caught when a neighbor from the next house up had come jogging across the yard and knocked on the door. She’d hidden behind a large holly bush, leaves pricking into her skin, as the man of the house opened the door and the two talked. The neighbor had a gun he wanted this guy Scott to come and see. He didn’t want to carry it over here and scare the old bitty across the street. He had some ideas on maybe doing security patrols in the neighborhood, too, now that someone had come through the night before and stolen everyone’s gas right out of their driveways. Scott had agreed, and the two had gone to the neighbor’s house for a chat.

  She’d gotten Tabitha from the back and they’d gone right in through the front door Scott had left unlocked. Scaring the wife into compliance had been easy; all they’d had to do was grab the little boy sitting on the couch with his Legos and threaten to hurt him. A power cord to tie the wife up, a dishrag stuffed in her mouth with duct tape from the garage, and they were ready for Scott to return. The instant he’d stepped through the door Ellie had slammed him on the back of the head with a heavy silver candlestick from the fireplace mantle. They’d tied him up with his own belt, duct taped his mouth, and stuffed the whole little family
on the fireplace hearth. After that, they’d been free to take what they wanted. There was a nice pretty Lexus SUV in the garage with nearly a full tank of gas that would get them most of the way to New York.

  She’d left Tabitha to watch over the three while she went upstairs to find clothes. She’d get first pick, then Tabitha could get dressed while Ellie kept watch, and they’d be out of here. Maybe grab some shit to pawn on the road. Those candlesticks would bring a nice bit of cash, and the entire house was done up in expensive nic-nacs like those. Her brother would put her up at his place in the city. She could run some drugs for some quick cash while she figured out her options. She’d been squeezing herself into a pair of sweatpants—the skinny bitch that lived here couldn’t have weighed more than 110 pounds—when the yelling had started.

  Chapter 38

  Thursday, September 6th

  Salisbury, Maryland

  The kid was gone. That stupid skank Tabitha had left the family alone while she went into the den and hit up the liquor cabinet. They hadn’t bothered to tie up the little brat; there was no reason to when threatening his parents made him do whatever they said. He’d scampered out the back screen patio door while Tabitha was in the other room, and they’d caught sight of him streaking across the field behind the house. Ellie had told Tabitha to go fix her fuck-up and get him back here before he brought back help.

  Now Tabitha had been gone a good fifteen minutes, and Ellie just knew there’d be red-suited prison bitches crawling through the neighborhood any second. It was raining harder, and the sound of the rain driving into the expansive rear deck through the screen door seemed magnified. It was loud enough that she could barely hear the skinny bitch blubbering behind her dishrag, even though she was less than ten feet away. Norms were so fucking weak.

  “You’d better hope she shows up with your brat within the next few minutes, or I’m taking that fancy Lexus, finding him, and running his ass over,” Ellie said. The wife’s eyes got big and she started moaning something around the dishrag. Scott just glared at Ellie. She could tell he had something in mind but was waiting for her to turn her back.

  Ellie had never had the kind of figure that would let her wheedle her way through situations like Tabitha did. She’d always been thick and straight, no curves. The kind of girl that boys challenged on the playground because she was bigger and stronger than them. She’d learned early on that life was simple: you either gave the beat down, or you got the beat down. And you never, ever turned your back on someone who looked like they were intending on handing you a beat down.

  She tested the edge of the meat cleaver she held with her thumb and tossed a meaningful look in his direction.

  “It would suck pretty bad getting chopped up with your own cooking knife,” she said. “Whatever you’re planning, forget it. I’ve dealt with little girls with more balls than you.”

  Scott tried to talk behind his strip of duct tape, and Ellie shook her head. “Old trick. Try to get me curious enough to pull it off, so you can yell for help. Or try to get me close enough to pull it off so you can bum rush me. Not gonna happen.”

  Scott tried to make his face blank, but his rage at having this woman in his home, threatening his family, was making it hard. He had been hoping she’d step close enough that he could tackle her. You didn’t need your hands to bowl someone over.

  “You know why we picked your house?” Ellie said, using the knife to point between them. “Because you were the only ones smart enough to park your car in the garage. I don’t get you rich folks. You put a $2,000 lawnmower and a few hundred dollars’ worth of camping shit in the garage, and park your $80,000 Cadillac Escalade outside for birds to shit on. For the sun to start making the paint peel. For people like me and my friend to come by and steal all the gas out of it.” She snorted and shook her head. “Rich people are fucking idiots.”

  She leaned closer, her voice conspiratorial. “Your neighbor’s got a Mercedes AMG GT-R sitting outside. They talk about those all the time in the romance books I read in prison. That car costs a hundred grand. It’s so he can show it off, right? So he can make you feel poor with your little sixty-grand Lexus?”

  She straightened. “Not that it’s doing him any good now. It’s nothing but a pretty lawn decoration. May as well be one of those bright pink flamingos my grandmother used to have.” She chuckled, smacking her head dramatically. “You know what? His new lawn ornament cost more than my grandmother’s entire house. Her house! And it’s no better than her $3 pink flamingos!” She broke into loud guffaws, holding her belly and throwing her head back.

  Scott had been working on the duct tape, pushing his tongue as far out around his mouth as he could to try to loosen the glue. He’d gotten it to gape open a bit on the bottom, and he tried saying something now.

  Ellie froze. “What the fuck did you just say?”

  He leaned forward a bit and spoke slower, but it was just barely clearer. All she caught was “go”, something like “ass”, and “elga”.

  “Helga? Did you just call me…Helga?” she said, her voice suddenly cold.

  Scott straightened, a look of smug satisfaction on his face. He made a show of looking her up and down, nodded, and then raised his eyebrows in a “What are you gonna do about it?” expression. Next to him, his wife started panicking, slamming her shoulder into his and screaming something through her gag.

  “You stupid sonofabitch,” Ellie said, rolling the wrist of the hand that held the cleaver. “I was gonna let you go. I was gonna just take your car and leave you here, so your little brat could untie you after we left. But you couldn’t keep your mouth shut, could you?’

  She stepped forward, voice rising. “You rich shits are always the same. From grade school to the grave. Gotta make fun of the big girl, huh?”

  Next to Scott, the wife pushed herself off of the brick hearth, falling to her knees. Ellie couldn’t make out what she was saying, but it was clear from the plaintive tones that she was begging. Ellie reared back and planted a foot in the woman’s gut, tossing her back and out of the way. She turned back to Scott. He was trying to yell now, shaking his head. Too late.

  “Men with big mouths have little tiny dicks. That’s why you got yourself such a little wife, ain’t it? So she wouldn’t notice how small your dick is. Well you ain’t gonna have to worry about it no more.” She smiled, waving the cleaver at him.

  “I’m gonna start by cutting off your little dick,” she said. “And then you’ll be just like me. All big and brawny, but no dick. Of course you’ll probably bleed out from that, so I’ll have to do the rest of it quick. But I’ll make sure to castrate you real nice and slow. Lay down on the floor.”

  Scott shook his head no and scooted back further onto the hearth. To his side, his wife was sobbing and whimpering through her gag.

  “I said lay down on the floor!” Ellie screamed, raising the cleaver above her head. “Do it or I’ll take your fucking head off right now-”

  She screamed and arched backwards, the cleaver falling from her hands. A hand was wrapped tightly around her throat, pulling her back, and she clawed at it. Her screams turned to tortured wails, her body jerking over and over again. She tried to reach over her head and grab whoever was behind her, but she couldn’t reach. She tried bending over to flip their weight over her, but the person was too low. More thrusts, more pain…her body was screaming in agony and suddenly she couldn’t catch her breath.

  Scott watched in horror as blood burst from his captor’s mouth and her wide eyes rolled back in her head. She went limp, and her body slid to the carpet.

  A man stood there, crouched low, his arm covered in blood and Scott’s own chef’s knife in his hand. He was dressed like a businessman, in a white dress shirt—well, red now—and a pair of finely-made slacks. His feet were bare. Breathing hard and crouching, with his wet hair hanging down into his face, he looked wild. Deadly.

  The man blinked, straightened, and the look was gone. He tossed the knife at Scott’s feet, w
iped his hand on his pants leg, and pushed his wet hair out of his eyes.

  “I apologize that I took so long. I had to be quiet,” he said, his voice tinged with an accent that Scott couldn’t place. Behind him, Aiden stepped into the room, and Scott’s eyes went wide in fear. The man looked behind him and turned back quickly, hands held up. “It’s all right. I’m not here to hurt you.”

  Scott looked in confusion between this obviously dangerous man and his son. He couldn’t make sense of it.

  The man stepped back and motioned Aiden forward, kneeling down in front of him. “If I let your father go, he might hurt me to protect you. To him, I’m a stranger, and strangers are dangerous right now. So I’m going to leave, and I need you to wait a few minutes and then help your parents get untied. You won’t come looking for me. Okay?”

  Aiden nodded, casting a quick glance at the woman’s body. The man held up a hand to the side of Aiden’s face to block his view and get his full attention.

  “Listen to me, Aiden. You did so well today. You were very brave.”

  “I was scared,” Aiden whispered, and Scott was sure he felt his heart break.

  “Being brave is doing something to help even though you’re scared,” the man said. “You were very brave. Promise me you won’t forget that.”

  Aiden nodded again, and the man stood up, ruffling the boy’s hair. He looked at the body and then up to Scott.

  “Get out of here as quickly as you can. Take him somewhere safe. There’s more where she came from. The longer you stay, the more chance you risk of this happening again.”

  He smoothed Aiden’s hair and cast one more look at the body, his expression frightening. Without another word, he turned and walked out of the room. Scott heard the patio screen slide shut, and then Aiden slammed into him, little arms wrapping around his neck tight enough that it choked him.