Table of Contents
___________________
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Acknowledgments
Excerpt from Foamers
About Justin Kassab
Copyright & Credits
About Kaylie Jones Books
About Akashic Books
To Kaylie Jones for seeing what others couldn’t
and the
(e)ST
Chapter I
All the President’s Men
It was an ambush, pure and simple. Kade knew it the moment he saw Mick and Jem coming through the door to the roof of Lambian Hall. His longtime friends, now his end-of-the-world family, had been wearing him down for months. They wanted his permission to journey to a location where there were other survivors.
The two men stood side by side, shooting looks at each other and waiting for the other to lead the attack. Mick stood to the left, still wearing his navy blue police uniform from his Old World life. The dark blue of the uniform made his fire-red hair stand out even more. Jem was on the right, also wearing a uniform, but his was Pennsylvania National Guard. Kade knew he wouldn’t be able to stop them when Jem’s ice-blue eyes locked on his. Sooner or later they would leave, whether they had his permission or not.
Jem stepped forward, and Kade braced for what was coming.
“I understand why you don’t want to worry about people outside of Houghton, but it’s not fair to the rest of us. You have your sister, brother, and lover. What do the rest of us have?” Jem said.
The night went silent, as if even the creatures were in on their plan. Kade squatted down and petted the large black dog, Fenris, who was sleeping at his feet. He responded by giving his friends a nod, then turned his back to them and looked out over the campus he was responsible for protecting. His eyes followed the stream that made up the west boundary of the college campus, over the half-dozen buildings that used to be dorms or classrooms. It was a small patch of land, but it was his.
* * *
Mick watched the trees go by as they drove south from Houghton, New York, toward Washington, DC. Jem’s National Guard unit had been called to defend DC before the Primal Age had settled upon mankind, and now he felt duty-bound to return to those he’d left behind in the fall. From what Jem had told Mick, Mick found it hard to believe Jem was still alive. The former president of the United States had, upon the release of the Feline Flu vaccine, ordered all soldiers vaccinated. The casualties had been catastrophic. The vaccine had caused far greater losses than had the following weeklong battle against the former civilians of the area, who had been defending themselves against the Hitler-like actions of the president.
Mick was deeply relieved that they were going to seek the survivors Jem had promised to return to in DC. But he wasn’t looking forward to this trip. Jem had fallen asleep early into the drive, and Mick found some solace in the silence. They were approaching the spot on the highway where he and his group of friends had been ambushed in the first days of the Primal Age. The first thing their attackers had done was ram his cop car, knocking him unconscious. Not realizing they were under assault, his friend Lucas had sacrificed his life to save Mick. Mick’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, wishing it was the neck of the gunman.
There hadn’t been a single generation of Mick’s family that didn’t have at least one cop. His father had been a police officer, as well as a sports-loving, beer-drinking homophobe. From a young age Mick knew he was different from the other men in his family, but he didn’t realize how different until high school. When all his friends had been worried about losing their virginity, he had been worried someone would find out how he felt about Lucas. He didn’t know how his friends would take that information, and he knew his family wouldn’t have stood for it.
Jem tapped the window, drawing Mick back to reality. The former soldier was leaning heavily against the door. Jem had never been out of shape, but the past few months he had been training alongside Kade and had sculpted himself into a statue of muscle.
“Sorry I’m not more talkative. I just have a lot on my mind,” Jem said.
“I’m in the same boat. Anything you want to talk about?” Mick asked.
“Talking won’t do me any good.”
“Yeah. Me eith—” Mick caught sight of his overturned police cruiser on the side of the road and slowed the Humvee to a stop. Without another word, he put it in park and got out. He scrambled over the bank and ran his hand along the burned out skeleton of the vehicle. A sharp piece of the frame sliced his hand, a painful reminder of the world that was. At one point in his life Mick had spent twelve hours a day in this cruiser. Those days were only a few months in the past, but he had as much trouble remembering them as if they had been a lifetime ago.
Mick circled around the car. He stopped by a patch of dirt marked with a cross made of arrows, and dropped to his knees at his friend’s grave.
“Lucas, we’re getting by. We’d be doing better with you, but we’re keeping on as you would have wanted. I never had a chance to thank you for saving my life, though I wish you hadn’t traded yours for mine.” Mick stopped a tear from falling from the corner of his eye with a sweep of his hand. “We miss you. I miss you. I need to tell you that I love you, and I’m sorry I never had the courage to tell you. I hope you’re resting well. Keep an eye on the rest of us.”
Jem put a hand on Mick’s shoulder, causing him to jump. Mick hadn’t noticed him come down the bank and was now terrified at how much he had heard. If Jem knew, it would only be a matter of time before everyone knew. His heart felt like it was sinking into an abyss. Each second of silence increased the pressure in his chest.
The world had grown quiet—not a bird chirping or the slightest of breezes.
As his heart clenched tighter, he hoped it might just explode. It would be easier than letting the secret out and having to face the fallout. The world had already ended, but this would be the undoing of his life.
He kept his eyes locked on Lucas’s grave. Lucas, who would never know his secret, who would never know how he felt. The rest of the cohort would know, but not Lucas. Not Lucas.
Lucas could have known if Mick hadn’t been so afraid. Maybe if Lucas hadn’t died, Mick would have found the courage to tell him. Then Lucas could have known his secret.
The possibilities of that world released the pressure in Mick’s chest. Mick took a deep breath and reminded himself that he was with friends, not his family. Still, he feared what the news would do to his friends’ perceptions of him.
Leaning forward, he lifted himself to his feet and stood beside Jem. Mick felt Lucas’s spirit giving him a swell of strength.
“I’m gay,” Mick blurted out.
“Cool,” Jem said, then turned and headed toward the Humvee.
“Cool? That’s it?” Mick said as he rushed after Jem.
“Yeah. I’ll take a turn at the wheel.”
Mick climbed into the passenger side of the Humvee and slammed the door. For years he had been holding on to that secret, and when he finally had the courage to tell someone, his response was cool. That was it. No questions, no thoughts, no response.
Jem looked at Mick as he drove. “You okay?”
“No. I’m pissed,” Mick said, crossing his arms.
“You’re pissed ’cause I’m okay with you being gay?”
“Shouldn’t you have questions? How long have I known? Why did I keep it to myself?”
&n
bsp; “I’ve known since your junior year. I figured you kept it to yourself because you weren’t ready to face it. If you want me to act homophobic about it, I can.”
Even Mick hadn’t been sure of things his junior year. “I screwed Vanessa P. that year. She told the whole school.”
Jem laughed. “It was the night we lost and ruined our chance of a perfect season in soccer. We had a drown-your-sorrows party. Why don’t you tell the rest of the story?”
“Vanessa was all over me. I told her to meet me in the guest room in ten minutes so I could tell my ride not to wait. Then I met her in the room and screwed her until morning.”
“Any foreplay, or just sex? What positions did you use? Was it your first time?” Jem paused, letting the silence settle. “I was passed out in that guest room when Vanessa P. got there. Lights were off. I didn’t realize until an hour in to it that she thought I was you. I’d have been in trouble ’cause I was dating what’s-her-name—the one who became a stripper? So I let Vanessa think it was you.”
Mick’s body shook as he clenched his hands into fists. “You never thought to talk to me about it?”
Jem shrugged. “I’m not about to ask one of my friends if he’s into dudes.”
Mick took a deep breath to compose himself. “Do you think the others will be okay with this?”
“X is sleeping with Kade’s little sister. I think you’ll be fine.”
For the first time in years, Mick didn’t feel like he had a thorn under his skin.
* * *
Drew was tired. Not like a long-day-at-work tired. He was beat. Exhausted. Sore. Worn-out. Hurt to the bone. Bloodied. Battered. He was tired.
As he dropped onto the leather couch in his luxury apartment, he could feel his mind already drifting toward sleep, but the patter of the children’s footsteps brought him back to reality. They weren’t his kids, but for the last few months they had become his responsibility. Drew was only twenty, and before the world had fallen he hadn’t wanted kids for at least ten more years.
The three kids had once been members of his swim team. Due mostly to bad luck and a brave man, they had ended up in his care. They now lived in the few blocks surrounding DC’s National Mall, where the National Guard had established themselves as the Residence of Power. The city immediately surrounding the Mall had been burned down during a brief civil war. Sadly, Drew was not a member of the National Guard, which meant that to get a daily ration for himself and his kids he’d been forced to join the Civilian Corp, which meant manual labor ten to twelve hours a day. Today’s duty had been burying the dead, which had also been yesterday’s duty, as it would be tomorrow’s.
And what was his big prize at the end of the day? A backpack filled with enough water and food to keep him and his kids alive until tomorrow. Three things kept him from packing up and leaving. The first was that he doubted his ability to keep the kids alive out in the wild. The second was that James Masters, the soldier who had saved them, had promised to come back. Last was security. With all the rabids, resistance, and rambos running around, nothing was safe.
Drew opened his eyes and watched the three kids search through the backpack. He didn’t have the energy to lift his head, but smiled as the tallest, yet youngest, of the three got excited over a Pop-Tart. The rations varied by day, but Drew knew Scott had a soft spot for Pop-Tarts, so he always did his best to try to snag at least one pack.
Before the Primal Age, Scott had been such a cute ten-year-old that he’d done some catalog modeling. Even if magazines had still existed, Scott’s career as a child model would have been terminated. Scott had set off a shotgun trip wire during their trip through the metro tunnels to safety, which had scarred the right side of his body as badly as the face of Mars. The worst part of his injury was the loss of his right eye, and even with medical attention—which had saved his life—the eye socket sat empty, like a cave in a mountainside, and was surrounded by mangled flesh and scars. Scott took to wearing sunglasses to cover the damage.
Beside him was the lone girl, Meredith, who had also been wounded when the trap had sprung. The damage was far less noticeable, and the marks from the bird shot could easily be mistaken for chicken pox scars. Her eyes lit up as she pulled a soda from the bag, popped the tab, and chugged a few gulps. Drew knew soda wasn’t good for her and that anything that wasn’t water wasn’t helping, but there were so few things to get excited about that he didn’t want to deny her that joy.
The third child, Franklin, was the oldest of the three at eleven, but he was also the smallest. He wore his glasses awkwardly down his nose and had a bad habit of looking over them. Drew didn’t need to watch him to know what he would go for first. The kid had managed to tame a cheetah cub from the DC Zoo, which made Drew’s life much more difficult. Animal food was not included in the rations, so he had to go through barter channels to get cat food. This generally came at the price of part of his own ration. As always, before ever taking something for himself, Franklin pulled out the can of cat food and disappeared into one of the rooms to feed his pet.
Drew smiled to himself as he let his weary body rest. As his thoughts faded to dreams, he couldn’t help but think that he’d have been lucky to have a kid like any of them, and as long as they were his to look after, he would do what it took to keep them safe.
* * *
Mick and Jem were walking through the early morning light. They had stashed the Humvee in the woods two miles from the Theodore Roosevelt Memorial Bridge, the last standing bridge on the west side of DC.
They were presently carrying their rifles in case they had a foamer encounter. When they got close enough for Mick to see the island that the bridge traversed, they stashed their weapons in the trees alongside the road. Jem wanted to make it clear in case they came across any patrols that they were no threat.
Theodore Roosevelt Island had become the main outpost for the president’s men. What had once been a scenic island was now a fortified base crawling with soldiers.
Mick and Jem hadn’t put more than a foot onto the concrete of the bridge when a megaphone blared.
“Hands on your heads.”
Jem immediately complied. Mick followed his lead, wondering if Jem was so calm because he’d expected this. Mick was anything but calm. His heart was racing as he looked ahead at the concrete barriers that had been placed across the bridge. Above the barriers were at least a dozen men, all aiming rifles at them.
“Slowly walk toward us. If you drop your hands, we will shoot.”
Jem stepped forward and Mick followed. He hoped Jem had some sort of plan. Even though the walk was only about fifty yards, to Mick it seemed like he had crossed all of the Sahara.
When they reached the men, they were swiftly searched for weapons, then forced facedown onto the ground. The road bit into his face as his hands were cuffed behind him. This was the second time since the Primal Age began that he, a police officer, had found himself in handcuffs.
“Identify yourself,” a soldier standing over them ordered.
“James Masters, formerly second lieutenant,” Jem replied.
Mick didn’t get a chance to introduce himself. Jem’s response sent the entire force into a frenzy. Orders were barked as men rushed around. A hood was pulled over Mick’s head as he was hoisted to his feet. He was shoved forward and thrown into what he figured was the backseat of a car. The last thing he heard before the door slammed was, “Take them to the Castle.”
While the car carried him off, he wished he had listened to Kade and not left Houghton. Jem had offered him the chance to find new people who didn’t know him, and that had been impossible to turn down. They had to expand, but he wished he’d taken the time to learn more about the guardsmen, and more importantly, to examine Jem’s plan instead of just following him blindly. He’d owe Kade an apology if he ever got the chance to tell his former leader he was sorry.
* * *
A knock on the door sent Drew shooting straight off the couch, where he had fallen asleep
. He looked through the open kitchen to the door, wishing he had X-ray vision and could see through it. He listened carefully for the breathing of his kids. All three of them were in a deep slumber. He lit up his watch to check the time: 4:23 a.m.
Drew had expected time to become unimportant after the end of the world, but within the president’s province it had become even more defined. Everything revolved around shifts that happened exactly on time.
Opening a drawer in the kitchen, Drew lifted up a cutting board and felt around for the pistol James had given him. Had he not kept it hidden all this time, it would have been taken from him; civilians weren’t allowed to have guns. Even the knife James had given Franklin would be confiscated if it was ever found.
Gun in hand, Drew approached the door. He tapped it twice and was answered in kind by five knocks, completing his security code.
“Who’s there?” Drew whispered.
“We got two new people tonight,” a female voice said from the other side.
Drew went back to the kitchen and opened a different drawer. This one held protein bars, gummy bears, and any other food he was able to either come across or skimp off his own rations. This was how he paid for information.
He cracked the door and slid a granola bar out.
“James Masters and Mick McCracken.”
Drew felt his heart pound against his chest. He had been waiting months to hear that name. He slid a candy bar through the open door before he closed it.
“That’s not all you should know.”
Drew cracked the door open and slid out a pack of M&M’s.
“They were arrested.”
Drew put a hand over his face. He couldn’t believe his luck. James had finally arrived but was unreachable. This was worse than if he hadn’t shown up at all.
Drew slid a protein bar out and resigned himself to his new life.
“I can get you three minutes with him.”
“What will it cost me?” Drew asked, wondering what he had that he could leverage.
“Five thousand calories.”
Drew was close. With what he had already paid he had high three thousand, but he hadn’t touched his daily ration yet. He could go hungry for a day. For the kids he could suffer anything.
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