Try Hard: a post-apocalyptic thriller (180 Days and Counting... Series Book 7)

by B. R. Paulson

  Rachel stared at Andy. She recognized the boy’s name. But… he’d said…

  This was it. What they’d prepared for, Andy’d warned her of.

  Tom Mason… She couldn’t grasp the familiarity. Where had she heard that name before?

  But Andy had assumed, hoped, the end would happen in their children’s children’s lives. Not in their own. Prepared or not, the reality was jarring.

  Tom continued, his young voice assuming a level of maturity well beyond his years. “Moments before the television was cut, the news said to get to the relief shelters in town. I wouldn’t do this as there is more danger in numbers. Get out of town, but be careful. I repeat, do not go to the relief shelters. Something isn’t right. I’ll sign back on once my position has stabilized.”

  Static.

  Palms sweaty, Rachel clenched her sweatshirt in her hands. “What do we do?”

  “Exactly what we’re doing. Let’s get out front and see if we can warn anyone else.” He grabbed her hand. “We’re ready for this. Rachel, tell me you remember the way to the property.” A falling flame reflected in his eyes.

  Rachel inhaled, focused on steadying herself. If the area was attacked, they’d planned on getting to their property in the national forest northeast of Coeur ‘d Alene, Idaho. He’d drilled her like their lives depended on it. Because they did. “Yes, I do.”

  Andy nodded. “Good. We won’t get separated, but in case we do, get there. That’s where you’ll be safest. I will meet you there, just like we planned. ATVs are ready and packed. Let’s leave.” He pulled her into a hug and caressed her back through her shirt. “I’m sorry. I know you’re scared. We can do this.”

  Rachel clutched him, hard. But time was of the essence. They separated and he gave her hand one final squeeze. “Did you get the documents?” The red container held their documents – birth certificates, Social Security cards, titles, immunizations, deeds, anything they might potentially need to prove who they were and where they belonged.

  She had added the small file box full of the important paperwork and unhooked the external hard drive of the computer the day before. She’d scanned every document months ago and saved everything to the memory bank. When the hard drive had blinked, indicating it was full she’d added it to their cache of survival items.

  Rachel tossed one last glance at the slider doors glowing with the reflection of bright orange flames from the burning house. One fleeting moment donated to the memory of her dark glossy hardwood California king bed. A folded open romance novel on the side table. Socks and underwear piled at the foot of the bed from laundry the day before. Rachel tightened her jaw. She had to do this. If she wasn’t strong for the kids, who would be?

  The falling objects were more irregular, testifying of passing time. Rachel and her family wouldn’t be there much longer and who knew if they’d ever return.

  Chapter 2: Brenda

  Nothing pissed Brenda off more than when Rachel or her husband were right. Seriously.

  She pounded up the stairs to the master bedroom and pushed the door against the pile of dirty clothes mating on the floor. Her husband was a slob. That was the nicest word she had for him.

  Boots on, she tromped across the floor to stand beside the bed. Face up, he lay with his arms splayed. With his mouth open and his longish hair matted on the pillow case, he had an almost insane look to his normally hard and twisted features. Nothing about Lee spoke of a kinder, gentler side. Especially when he was awake.

  Asshole.

  But he was her husband and Brenda owed him at least a warning before she went. Disgust smoothed from her expression, she reached out and prodded his shoulder. Once. Twice. On the third one, he snapped his eyes open and grabbed her forearm, yanking her on top of him.

  “Waking me up, Brenda?” His breath blew across her cheek and she closed her eyes against the stale alcohol mixed with pepperoni stench.

  Brenda bit back her whimper. She swallowed. “But we’re under attack, Lee. There are bombs going off all over the place. Don’t you want to get out?” Please, please, let me go, she begged behind eyes that betrayed none of her fear or anxiety.

  He ignored her, laughing at her situation instead. He rolled her to her stomach, ripping her thin scrub pants and shirt from her skin. “Just back from your trip and you can’t wait to get in bed with me. I’ll oblige you this time, Brenda, but next time you know the rules.”

  Teeth gritted to prevent her screams from escaping, Brenda counted in her head. He never took longer than the count of three hundred. Never. Never. Never.

  At two-hundred-and-fifty-seven he slapped her rear end and pushed off her. Brenda didn’t say a word but waited as he left the room for the connected bathroom – that her job paid for.

  Asshole.

  Karma would be a missile or bomb taking out Lee while he showered. But Karma hated Brenda. Not that she gave a damn.

  Chapter 3: Andy

  Thirteen years of marriage, five years together before that and Andy couldn’t believe his fortune. When Rachel held his hand, invincibility coursed through him. The effect hadn’t waned over the years.

  Rachel checked on the kids in beds Andy had built in the trailers for just such an event. She whispered something to each one and kissed their heads. Two steps brought her to the oversized quad where she climbed onto the kickboard and swung her leg over the seat, settling in for the ride. Andy patted her hand and climbed on his.

  The trailers would work well. He’d custom built the axle-free wagons when rumors of attack on American soil had filtered around the web over a year ago. Many people had scoffed at the possibility – who would dare to wage war with the Great US of A? Andy hadn’t needed more than a rumor. All too vividly he recalled the terror and loss of September 11, 2001. It didn’t take much to bring to mind the stories his grandpa had told of Pearl Harbor and the horrors there.

  The earthquakes in California, Oregon, Nevada and southern Idaho had followed the whispers of foreign attack, smothering the warnings of invaders in the wake of the abysmal destruction. But Andy had ordered pieces for the trailers and upgrades on their four-wheelers, also called quads. He’d special ordered the ATVs to have engines as big as a car’s.

  Two pairs of riding gloves rested across his gas cap. He tossed Rachel hers before yanking on his own. “The gate’s unlocked, we’ll just ride through. I want to double check on Bob. He might change his mind, if I tell him what we heard on the radio. Point to the street and the prairie. I’ll push through first.” He clenched his jaw and continued, “Your pistol is in the box zip-tied to the handlebars.” He hated that she might need the weapon, hated he’d made her take a hunter safety course and practiced how to use her gun. In fact, she could use all of the guns he owned and so could Cole. But she hated weapons. Something from her work with the government.

  Andy started the engine and Rachel followed his lead. They gave the motors a moment to warm up, but couldn’t spare more. Andy pushed the throttle and all four wheels inched forward. He powered through the gate and Rachel followed. He tossed a glance over his shoulder. All three kids peeked over the side of the trailer from under the tarp Andy had placed to protect them from the falling debris, big eyes and little hands the only things in view.

  Outside the semi-serenity of their backyard, chaos was building. Neighbors stood on their lawns, shouting to each other. Two more houses had caught fire, flames running along the roof line and in the windows. Five men stood by the mailboxes as they watched the sky.

  Andy slid from the seat. He motioned at Rachel to stay put. Bob’s open garage door showed an absent car. Andy poked his head through the man door and called out. No one answered.

  Anticipation tightened his shoulders. Another neighbor, two doors down, drove by in a truck, stopping to lean out his window. “Andy? Is that you?” The headlights sliced through the night, highlighting Rachel and the ATVs.

  “Yeah, you guys heading out?” Andy walked alongside the rig, talking to the man while his wife
drove.

  “Yeah, news said to get to Spokane. Air Force is supposed to be helping with casualties and shipping people further east. First wave is leaving in four hours.” He looked at the four-wheelers. “You guys heading to Spokane in that?”

  “No. We’re going into the mountains. Heard on the radio Fairchild was attacked. Spokane got stray bombs. I’m not sure the city is the safest place to be, you know?” Andy reached his driveway and stopped. Two more cars lined up behind the truck.

  “Spokane is the safest place right now. You follow us. We’ll watch out for you.” The man waved to the other cars who responded with honks. He looked at Andy. “Bob and Martha left a bit ago. We’re going to try to catch them.”

  “Okay, good luck. I’ll talk to Rachel. Don’t wait for us.” Andy studied his neighbor’s face. He wouldn’t see him again. Odd. He patted the hindquarter of the truck as it passed and waved at the passengers of the cars. A small girl, eyes wide, watched him from the back seat of a four-door sedan.

  “Andy, we need to go.” Strength and weakness warred in his wife’s voice. She called her fears insecurities, hadn’t admitted to real fears since she’d gone east two years ago. She always overcame her “insecurities”. Taught others how to face their fears, define them, but never claimed her own.

  Protecting his family took precedence over his neighbors. Safety. He had to get them to the ranch. “Let’s go.” He climbed on his quad and motioned Rachel across the street and up the embankment to the prairie plateau.

  Metal creaked and rattled with each rotation of the tires as they moved forward. Eerie quiet allowed the crackle of hungry flames to drift across the field from bordering neighborhoods on fire.

  Rachel revved over the curb, bouncing and tossing, picking up speed. Andy followed and sped up the incline to the plains.

  A truck and a station wagon pulled from their driveways. A sports car followed suit and the three cars sped into the night. Toward Spokane.

  Rachel stopped and waited for Andy. He pulled abreast of her and they turned to watch their neighborhood. Tail lights disappeared in the falling flames. His wife shook her head. “Do you think we’ll see them again?”

  Reaching across the distance between them, Andy grasped Rachel’s hand. “No.”

  A shudder ran the length of her body. She nodded and sniffed.

  He wanted to take the burden from her, shoulder anything for her. “Leave the lights off until we get further from town. Something doesn’t feel right.”

  She whispered, “Andy, nothing about this night feels right.”

  He squeezed his wife’s hand before letting go. “At least we’re together.”

  They revved away from the residential areas of Post Falls to the upper regions of Coeur d’Alene. They needed to make it through one city before they reached the wilds of the National Forest and the potential moderate safety.

  Falling debris lessened south of Rathdrum outside Hayden. Dark evergreens sliced into the pre-dawn sky. A plane passed about three-hundred yards overhead. Rachel and Andy ducked from the thunderous noise. Cole poked his head from beneath the tarp only to retreat a scant second later.

  Deeper into the trees skirting subdivisions and strip malls of Coeur d’Alene and Hayden, Andy motioned Rachel to stop. “Let’s take a quick break. If we see more cars, we’ll need to go the back way which will take longer.”

  They cut their engines and slid off the quads. Andy stretched his arms over his head and bent down. The sudden quiet relieved the constant pull on his hearing. Without having to strain, he easily picked up the sound of car engines, horns honking, and shouts filtering through the thin protection of trees between Rathdrum and Coeur d’Alene.

  The population wasn’t large in the Idaho towns. Spokane was the largest metropolitan area on the east side of Washington but nothing worth attacking if American domination was the goal. What was the goal? The result had never been hinted at, merely the attacks. Even the “who” had always been undefined in Andy’s findings.

  Andy rolled his head on his shoulders and sat down on the edge of his trailer to think. Rachel joined him and placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. “What do you think is happening? Do you think Brenda is okay?” She murmured the last.

  She hadn’t said that name in months. Andy wished he had answers for her. Something or anything to make her feel better, give her some staying power. “I don’t know. If it’s the Chinese, they have the numbers to attack by foot, but I’m confused why they would attack Spokane. I would have used my fire power on New York or Dallas, heck D.C. but Spokane? Kind of farfetched.”

  “Do you think something will be on the radio? Are you sure we shouldn’t go to the shelters? She might be there…” Her voice trailed off with the shake of Andy’s head.

  Through the lightening dark, the sight of Rachel lowering her face tugged at Andy’s reserve. “I’m sorry. I’m worried about your sister, too, Rach, but we can’t risk the kids. Maybe once we get up to the property and settle them in, I can leave for more information, maybe even retrieve her.” He forced lightness into his voice. “Who knows, we may be wrong and it’s just a freak accident and we’ll be home by Friday.” His wife nodded, clutching the false hope in his statement, though unable to let go.

  “It’s a great idea to check the radio. Let’s see if Tom Mason is back on.” Andy stood and unstrapped the radio from the front rack. He pressed power and the lights lit up.

  Whispered urgency crackled from the speakers. “…worry. There are a lot of people rushing toward town. I think the Arena is where they’re setting up shelters. I can’t tell you more because I’m not going into town.” A shuffling and heavy breathing and then, “After the first few bombs at Fairchild, I think we had a break, but a few planes have been circling and I’m not sure, but something else is going to happen, I just can’t figure out what. Get away from Spokane. Don’t go west. I repeat do not go west.”

  As if in a cave or somewhere underground, his voice would rub in and out, clear and then not-so-much. His gasps suggested he might not be stationary, but the lack of background noise created a vacuum as they searched for signs of where he might be.

  Rubber screeched on asphalt and the tear of metal on metal colliding ripped through the clearing. Andy pushed Rachel toward her quad. “Get on. Hurry!” Would they make it? His wife, he watched her. He couldn’t take his eyes from her.

  They started the engines and pummeled deeper into the forest. Lights catapulted into the clearing off the side of the freeway. Cars piled up behind the accident. The new break in the trees and brush displayed the stop-and-go traffic.

  A hundred feet separated Andy’s family from the next neighborhood. A straight path shafted through the jagged foliage line. Rachel followed him as he rolled along the fence perimeter. House silhouettes rose into the sky.

  Relatively quiet engines were the selling point of the quads. Smooth rumbles disrupted the assumption the large beasts would roar when started, but Andy had added after-market mufflers which silenced the putt of the sound. He’d put them on in case looters or rioters were a risk as he shuffled his family to their cabin.

  Homes in the cookie cutter neighborhood had an abandoned air. From the back yards at four in the morning people could be sleeping. Or maybe they’d noticed something was happening and they’d evacuated as well.

  Andy slowed as he closed in on the turn of the vinyl fence, the street beyond empty.

  A scream rent the air. He spurred forward.

  The fence ended and the street opened to a Y leading left and right. In the crux of the split a house sat with a garage on one side and a large veranda off the other, giving the impression of arms welcoming each person into the neighborhood.

  Flames grew from the garage roof and engulfed the lower portion of the house, except the far side of the deck where a lattice crept up the side. Another scream followed, sending chills up Andy’s spine. He didn’t want to put another living thing down because of burns. Or listen to its pain.

&n
bsp; He climbed off his idling quad and rushed to Rachel’s trailer. The tarp was cool where he grasped the edge. “Cole.”

  His son sat up, pushing the tarp from him. “Yeah, Dad?”

  “I need you to sit on my quad and wait with Mom.” Andy swallowed and held back the blue covering while Cole climbed out. The boy’s awkward movements hid a grace he displayed on dirt bikes and on the football field. Growing fast, Cole would soon be able to hold him down in a play wrestling match, a fact that saddened Andy.

  Rachel climbed down and joined Andy. Cole swung his leg over the seat and settled where his dad had been.

  Andy grabbed his wife’s hand. She had to make it, no matter what. “Rachel, get back on the bike. Listen, I’m going in. If I’m not out in five minutes you have to go.”

  A plane, its outline a mere shadow in the dark sky, zoomed overhead almost as close as the last one. The closest airport was thirty minutes away. They had no reason to be so low in that area. Damn. Josh had been more right than Andy’d realized. His ironclad grip matched the intensity behind his next words. Promise me.” Where his fingers wrapped around her wrist, he could feel her small muscles tense.

  Her beautiful blue eyes wide, his angel nodded. “But…”

  “No. Five minutes. Go. I’ll catch up to you, okay?” He looked once more at his wife. “Rachel, do you hear me? I’ll get to you no matter what.” She nodded and for the briefest moment, he doubted he’d see her adorable freckles again.

  Andy looked to his son and shook the feeling of doom from his shoulders. He spoke slow in an unmistakable tone that a father used with his son. “You follow your mom.” Andy used his shored up courage and forced himself to turn from his family and sprint down the short stretch of blacktop to the house.

  Unreal, the heat burned his skin through multiple layers of clothing, pushing from the house in a powerful consistent wave. A few degrees cooler than the baking body of the house, the deck hooked to thin lattice. Andy gained a foothold and climbed the questionable framework, worried he hadn’t heard another peep since he’d left the quad.