Fallen Steel: Book 2 in the Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Survival Series: (Heaven's Fist - Book 2)

by Justin Bell

  Keeler hadn’t been an especially studious boy, though academics had come naturally to him, and he didn’t pay much close attention during his scant few months in the boy scouts either, but he did remember one thing… the sun rose in the east and set in the west. During this time of year, the heart of summer, it generally rose in the northeast, or as far north as it ever would. The ground around him was barely illuminated, and he knew sunrise would be coming, so he had to make sure he saw which way the sun was rising from. That would be the direction they should walk.

  Standing, he felt a series of sharp, stabbing pains, one in his left hip, one in his ribs, and another one seizing his right arm and shoulder, a fiery hot grip of scalding fingers that closed around his limb and squeezed tightly, almost locking him in place. His tumble the previous day had taken a lot out of him, and as he grew more and more tired, he could feel the straining muscles starting to give way, losing their battle against the pain, coming dreadfully close to giving up.

  He glanced down at Vera and drew in a long, deep breath. Giving up was not an option, not as long as she was his responsibility. A shiver ratcheted through his body, sending gooseflesh racing up both arms, the cool chill of night still lingering even as the sun struggled to rise, a brisk reminder of the drastically different desert climate. He wanted to get moving, and soon.

  Dropping down into a low crouch, he pressed a hand to Vera’s shoulder and shook her very gently, rolling her back and forth. Her eyes flung open almost instantly, her mouth opening, starting to form the word ‘Mommy?’ even as she realized where they still were and who she was still with.

  She adjusted and sniffled hard. “Keeler?” she asked quietly. “We’re still in the desert, aren’t we?”

  “Yeah, we are,” he replied. “But we made it to the bottom. Town’s that way, I think,” he said, pointing in the direction of the slowly emerging daylight. But his hip twinged and now his ankles were joining in. Walking would be a struggle under optimal conditions. Doing it now? In the pre-dawn hours, over jagged rocks and around nasty tree growth? He honestly wasn’t sure he could do it. If it wasn’t for Vera, he didn’t know if he would have even tried.

  “Mom will be there,” he said quietly. “She’ll be waiting for us, okay? We need to get moving, we need to try.”

  “I’m tired,” she whispered, pushing herself into a sitting posture. “And I’m hungry. I’m wicked hungry.”

  “I know sis,” Keeler said, remaining in his low crouch, even though his knees were screaming resistance and his ankles felt like they might just snap right off. “We don’t have any of those MRE’s. I’m sorry. We’ve got nothing.”

  Vera nodded. “We’re lost in the desert,” she said softly. “If we don’t find people… or food… we’ll die.”

  “We’re not going to die,” Keeler replied, his voice a bit more firm than he meant it to be. He wanted to sound stalwart, but had ended up sounding a little irritated. Vera blanched.

  “I’m sorry, monkey,” he said. “I didn’t mean to snap. I just don’t want you to worry okay?”

  Vera clambered shakily to her feet, looking a little weak at the knees. She stumbled slightly, but caught herself on a skinny, gray tree with peeling bark.

  “I’m not worried,” she said. “I just don’t like it out here. I wanna go home. I want my mom.”

  “We both do,” he said. “We’ll find her.”

  Vera nodded slowly, but then hesitated, her eyes splitting wide, glaring out toward the deeper desert, where the shadows of the rising rocks met the sandy ground. Keeler turned and followed her gaze and saw what drew her attention.

  A long, sliding shadow, curled along the rocks, sneaking between two throngs of sharp brush and angled toward them. In the low light of dawn it was just a shifting, moving thing at first, an alien creature without detail, but just based on the way it was moving told Vera what it was.

  “Snake,” she said softly, stumbling slightly backwards, her eyes blinking as if trying to force the image from them.

  “Easy, take it easy,” Keeler said, stepping between her and the creature, which wrapped a tight left curl and bolted in their direction. Vera shrieked and dashed left, curling her body around the nearby tree and the snake froze there, caught in the open. Slowly it lifted its tail and shook, the distinctive and horrifying rattle of its tail a clear sign to all of what they were dealing with.

  “Not just a snake,” Keeler said, “a rattlesnake. Don’t move, okay. Just stay there.”

  Vera huddled behind the tree, using it for shelter, drawing back as the rattler shook its tail, tongue lashing, flicking like a narrow fork of lightning.

  “Keeler, be careful,” Vera whispered.

  Her brother nodded, moving laterally to the right as the snake slithered slowly, halted, then slithered again.

  “Vera,” Keeler said quietly. “I’m going to distract it. When I do run past it, over on the other side. Head for that gap between the rocks over there, okay?”

  Vera shook her head furiously.

  “Vera,” he said more insistently. “I need you to do this please. Just do it. For me. For Mom, okay? That gap, right there.” He pointed his finger toward a spot where two rocks had moved toward each other, but not quite met, leaving a strange, narrow path between them.

  Tears spilled from Vera’s eyes, but she nodded slowly, moving to her left, inching from the tree she was hiding behind. Keeler lowered his arm, letting his backpack slip from his shoulder as he moved a little closer to the serpent, but not too close. It rattled again, another word of warning, clear and insistent and Keeler screamed in response, lunging forward, yelling, swinging his backpack in a loping, overhead arc.

  Vera shrieked as well, but she broke from the tree and ran, her little legs moving, carrying her over the sand. The backpack struck the snake where it lay with a massive, dull whump, kicking up sand and dust and Keeler let go of the strap, pulling back, turning right and running as fast as he could, catching up to his sister, grabbing her up in his arms and charging into the gap between the rocks, up onto the path, which slowly started to crawl at an upwards angle into the back half of the mesa.

  After a few moments, he had to stop, taking a few lunging, stumbling steps, lowering his sister back down to the ground as he caught his breath and let his angry muscles ease their burden. Using his elbow to balance himself against one of the rocks, he bent over and coughed, exhaled sharply and struggled to hold in his own tears of fright, pain, and loneliness, and the feeling that he was solely responsible for the life of his young sister, a responsibility he was not nearly prepared for at only fourteen years old. As he bent over, coughing, he saw a single tear break free and drop to the dust, spattering and almost immediately evaporating as the sun continued its trek above, turning a previously cool desert night into a hot and humid oven, radiating dull heat throughout the rocks and dirt.

  “Keeler?” Vera asked, walking over to him as he bent there, catching his breath. “Keeler, are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay?”

  Keeler nodded, though he didn’t stand. “I’m okay.”

  She looked back at the backpack sitting in the sand, and although she didn’t see the snake, she made no effort to even consider going back for it. Keeler saw where she was looking.

  “Just leave it,” he said. “We’ll go on without it. The town isn’t far.”

  They resumed their laborious trek up the winding, dirt path. Keeler didn’t bother to say that with or without the backpack, he wasn’t sure they’d survive another night, so ultimately it made little difference if they brought it or not.

  Chapter 8

  Now.

  Monday, June 29th.

  A small town east of the deserts of Arizona.

  In another life, the house might have been cozy, a small and quiet family home with only a few rooms. Nothing extravagant, but containing all of the critical essentials. A small, quaint kitchen and two tiny but livable bedrooms. The living room was a narrow rectangle with a simple old televisi
on, a few scattered family photos and other elements of home. The dining room table was in a corner of the already cramped living room with a few nicely cushioned chairs sitting around it. The floors were wood with adorned area rugs, and while Marilyn would have found the house unbearably claustrophobic to live in, she could not argue with its small-town charm.

  Charm was the farthest thing from her mind now.

  With no power to the house, and no power to the entire town from what she could tell, she had no idea what time it was, but she knew the sun had not yet risen. When she’d first laid down in bed she’d been pulled into a deep, dead sleep, but sleep had only taken her for a few hours before she’d jerked awake, body soaked with sweat, her heart pounding as she jumped from the bed and desperately looked for her children. Scott was sleeping on the floor in the same room as her, but just as she’d feared, both Keeler and Vera were still missing. Echoes. Ghosts. Just… gone.

  Only they weren’t gone. She knew where they were, yet somehow, she had not been allowed to go to them. She’d been kept here in this house, practically a prisoner, restrained and prevented from going back into the desert to rescue her children.

  What kind of mother did that make her? What kind of person? She had let them keep her from her children, from her sole responsibility in life and had barely put up a fight.

  No, that wasn’t true. She had put up a fight, she’d resisted quite a bit at first, but it hadn’t been enough. Exhaustion had taken over and had driven her from her place, forced her back and put her into bed where she had slept. Where precious hours had ticked away, her children still isolated and alone, out in the desert. Overnight, in the cold and unforgiving wilderness, laying out there, huddled together, just waiting to die.

  She leaned over the couch and pulled open a curtain, looking out into the front yard, which was still cloaked in a blue darkness.

  Drake was right. She hated to admit it, but she was right. Stumbling around in the desert in the dead of night, looking for two children wasn’t going to accomplish anything. The most it would do would be to get more people lost or dead. It wasn’t a chance she should take, after all, she still had Scott to look after.

  Marilyn walked through the house, peeking into various rooms. She found Drake asleep in a large chair in the living room and saw a motionless form in the bed of the second bedroom, a house full of sleeping soldiers.

  While her children lay out on cold, dead rock.

  An hour, maybe? Probably less. It wouldn’t be long before she’d be able to go back out to the desert, out to find her family, out to rescue her children, to bring them back to her. Then, once again, she would be whole.

  “You’re not doing them or yourself any good.”

  Marilyn looked over at the chair where Drake had been laying. She was still there, but the chair was elevated slightly, and she was more upright, looking at Marilyn.

  “I… I can’t help it,” she whispered. “They are a part of me.”

  Drake looked down at the floor as she sat there, looking past her hands, which were clasped together on her lap. She breathed haggardly, something catching in her throat, then she looked back up at the other woman.

  “You’re not the only mother, you know,” she said quietly.

  Marilyn looked at her.

  “Oh my…” she said quietly. “I didn’t even think…”

  Drake shook her head. “I know. I don’t exactly advertise it.”

  “Where? They weren’t at Pendleton where they?”

  “No,” Drake whispered. “Thank God, no.” She sat quiet for a moment, then looked up again. “I was going to be deployed next week. They stay with my ex-husband while I’m gone usually. He’s in California, too, but further north, and not so close to the coast.”

  “So they’re okay then?”

  Drake shrugged. “Who can know? You saw that streak earlier. Felt the ground shake. I’ve heard you and your daughter talking about it, about the ‘shooting star.’ How the tsunami wasn’t necessarily an act of nature.”

  Marilyn didn’t reply for a moment, but then cleared her throat and spoke.

  “At first I thought maybe we’d been seeing things,” she said. “All of the shooting stars. Especially the big ones. We’ve seen meteor showers before, but this seemed… different. Bigger. Brighter. When the tsunami hit, at first I thought maybe something had fallen into the water, but I wasn’t certain. But then we saw all of these things in the night sky. Then the Osprey almost got taken down by weird, falling debris. And then we saw that other thing yesterday. Yeah, this goes way beyond a tsunami and a random earthquake. This is something much, much bigger, and I’m betting it’s affecting more than just California.”

  “That would certainly explain why satellite communications are down. Why the V-24’s instruments weren’t working.”

  Marilyn looked back out the living room window through the curtain she’d left slightly parted. Things were brightening out in the front yard, just slightly, but certainly brightening.

  “Is this what it feels like?” Marilyn asked.

  “What?”

  She looked at Lieutenant Drake. “The end of the world. Is that what this is? Have we finally reached that point? The point of no return?”

  Drake stared at her hands. “Honestly, I’m not sure. I don’t think anyone can truly be sure.”

  “If it is,” Marilyn said quietly. “I want my kids with me when it happens. I want Marcus with me, too. If we’re all going to die, we need to do it together, as a family, just as we lived.”

  “If it was a perfect world,” Drake replied, “or some kind of Hollywood movie, then that’s how it would end.” Her voice drifted off. Marilyn caught something there, not really an emotion necessarily, but something… wrong. A sense that maybe Lieutenant Drake had already given up. Already written off her family as lost.

  “You don’t think you’ll ever see them again, do you? Your children, I mean.”

  “I hope I will,” Drake replied. “I’m just not sure how. We’re a long way from home and we’re heading in the wrong direction.”

  “Then why did you do it?”

  Drake pulled back, a surprised look on her face. “Have you forgotten already?”

  “Forgotten what?”

  “What it means to be a Marine? What it means to put others above yourself? I could have either gone to my kids or help rescue three dozen people. What choice was there, really?”

  “Only those people are dead now. We all saw that satellite fall. There’s nobody to blame except gravity at this point.”

  Drake shrugged. “All we can do is make the choices we think are right at the time. As long as I can look myself in the mirror and tell myself that I did everything I could do the right way, I’ve got no regrets.”

  Marilyn nodded.

  “Besides, my ex spoils those stupid kids rotten. They haven’t learned what a jerk he is yet.”

  Marilyn laughed in spite of herself and Drake joined in with her. It was an alien sound, one that neither of them had heard in quite some time, and quite possibly wouldn’t hear again.

  ***

  Now.

  Monday, June 29th.

  A mesa in the deserts of Arizona.

  Keeler stumbled as he made his way down the last stretch of dirt path, leading to another dangerous clutch of jagged rocks. The mesa was treacherous, and his weak legs had struggled the whole way through.

  “Keeler?” Vera asked, putting an arm around his waist. He barely caught himself against a flat wall of stone and ducked his head, wincing in pain. “Keeler!” she shouted again. “Are you okay?”

  He nodded, gritting his teeth.

  “My legs,” he groaned. “And my back. And my arms. Okay, pretty much my whole body.”

  “You said we’d be okay,” Vera replied. “You said we’d make it.”

  He snapped his head around, looking her in the eyes. “We will be okay,” he insisted. “We will make it. I promise you, okay? I swear to you.”

  She n
odded softly, a little taken aback by his pure, unfiltered confirmation of her assumption.

  “I just need to rest a bit, little sis, okay? Let my muscles recuperate. I just wish we had some food or water. It’s going to get very hot soon.”

  Vera looked up at the sky and saw the sun hanging low, but already the rocks seemed to be giving off a deep heat.

  “You said the town wasn’t far,” she said.

  “It’s not. We just have to make it through this rocky passage, I think. If we can get out of the mesa, it’ll be smooth sailing, okay? But we’ve gotta get out first.”

  Vera looked at their surroundings. They stood in a small gap between outcropped rocks, broad and jagged thrusts of stone, crunching against each other and spitting out into oddly shaped formations. Just a short way to their north, trees had grown in more earnest, most of them variations of brown and grey, but still a somewhat thickening forest not too far from where they stood. The trees followed their path, groping east toward the sun, then mingling with the rocks as the mesa’s altitude drifted closer to ground level in a gentle downward slope.

  So close, but so far away. Too far away. As the rocks drifted down, the trees grew far thicker, encroaching, and the closer they got to the bottom, the denser the wooded area was, leaving them little choice but to walk through this strange dead forest before they could even hope to approach the town.

  “You see all those trees?” Vera asked, pointing toward the east. Keeler turned weakly and looked, then nodded.

  “Yeah. I see ‘em. ‘S’okay, girl. It’ll be okay.” His voice was small and slurring, and sweat soaked his face and shirt. Vera looked around the area for any sign of some kind of water, but there was nothing. She suspected they’d find nothing, at least until they got closer to town.