Primal Shift: Volume 1 (A Post Apocalyptic Thriller)

by Griffin Hayes

  Larry snickered. It was actually a funny question, although not for the reason the kid probably thought. See, the little man between Larry’s legs was about as limp as a dead cat and had been for over two decades. Back in early ‘90s, he’d had a habit of taking advantage of the girls who stripped at his club – Solid Gold – by telling them they were about to get fired, knowing full well the severity of their coke habits would have them pleading and begging. Soon enough, they’d tell Larry they’d do whatever it took to change his mind. And in Larryland, a nice pair of lips was always enough to change his mind. Hell, the trick worked like a charm, until this girl Crystal came in to say she’d tested positive for HIV. Larry’d gone to town on Crystal – more than once – and needless to say the news had sent him into a certifiable rage, but more than that. The news had turned his pecker into a lump of dead flesh.

  So the humor in the kid’s question wasn’t lost on Larry. Besides, he didn’t like boys.

  Romeo was watching Larry with a strange expression, probably wondering if the old guy was flaking out on him.

  “I’m not a pervert kid, so relax. I’m far, far worse, and trust me when I tell you, you don’t wanna find out what I’m capable of. You just be there whenever I need you, and we’ll get along just fine, got it?”

  Romeo nodded that he understood and turned to replace the notebooks and close the safe. “There wasn’t shit in there anyway,” he said, sounding defeated.

  “Leave it open,” Larry said. “I’ll put it back.”

  Romeo did as he was told. Larry let the kid pass and watched as he hurried away.

  Crossing the room, he reached into the open safe and set the notebook on the desk. Larry sat down, the late afternoon light trickling into the dim room, the smell of smoke still strong, and readied himself to read about the cult’s deep, dark secrets.

  Dana Hatfield

  Tent City, Rainbowland, UT

  Dana was beside her bunk, in the act of buckling the holster for her SIG, when she paused, remembering the confrontation she’d had with All Father the first time he’d seen the gun on her hip. The abject horror on his face, not only at the idea she carried one, but that she intended to wear it around the compound unconcealed. She’d only known the man an incredibly short time, but already she’d seen that same horrified expression on his face a second time, when he had killed the brute about to rape her. He had broken perhaps the greatest of all his religion’s commandments. Harm no living thing. In the hours since the attack, All Father had locked himself away somewhere in the compound, leaving Brother Timothy to manage the cleanup, most of which consisted of pilling up dead bodies and seeing they were buried. The numbers were staggering when compared to the total. Ten colonists dead, over 30 wounded and 24 missing, most of the latter probably kidnapped by Jeffereys and his gang of slavers.

  Dana’s father staggered up to the mouth of the tent and sighed as he let a large bucket of water settle into the grass. The crease in his brow deepened.

  “You look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

  Dana finally snapped the buckle shut. “I guess I do.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself, you did as much as you could.”

  She nodded, knowing it was more than guilt that was getting to her.

  “It’s that Jeffereys you mentioned, isn’t it?” he asked.

  “It’s everything, Dad. I thought joining the Coast Guard would make me grow up quickly, but I’ve aged more in these last few days than I did through all of Basic and fishing stiffs out of the Bay.”

  Her father’s face darkened.

  Dana drew in a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to disrespect Greg’s memory.”

  He sat on a cot, rubbing his back.

  “You shouldn’t be fetching water from the river, Dad, not with that disc problem you have. There are younger people to do that.”

  “Really? Who? Most of them are either lying in shallow graves, holed up in a sorry excuse for an ICU or kidnapped by those raiders.”

  Of course, he was right. If anything, the colony had been lucky it hadn’t been worse. But having her father here, well, that was just one more thing for her to worry about. Larry was trying to help make things safer, and she would support him if it meant preventing another massacre of innocent people. However, her patience had limits. She had no intention of living in a hen house, hoping the foxes wouldn’t be back.

  When he stood, Dana went over and hugged him. His body was short and round and she could hear the rattle in his chest. “I thought you were dead,” she said. “When I came back to the house, there was a man in the pond out back, and I was sure it was you.” A tear rolled down her cheek and she choked it back.

  “I guess you could say it was the booze that saved me.”

  She looked at him, surprised.

  “Took the Buick over to 49’ERS for another Smirnoff.” He paused. “I can already tell what you’re thinking, just let the old man finish. So I’m on my way to the store, and I figure I might as well run her through the car wash before I get there. Punched in my code, rolled the car in, let the jets do their thing. Was a beautiful day, bit windy, but the sun was shining. Was gonna be a great Fourth of July, just me, Mr. Smirnoff, and CNN. Can’t beat it, right?”

  The grin on his face spread from ear to ear. But the saddest part was that Dana knew her father wasn’t feeling sorry for himself; that really was his idea of a great holiday celebration.

  “Then that car wash door rolled up, and outside, the whole world had gone to hell. Couldn’t have been in there longer than a few minutes, and people were running around, looking over their shoulders like something was after them. Paranoia. Insanity.”

  “But I came looking for you, Dad, at home, and you weren’t there.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I didn’t make it home, hell I didn’t make it to 49’ERS, either. There was an earthquake, Dana, I’m not sure if you knew that or not.” Of course she knew it. “Far as I was concerned, the house was flat as a pancake.”

  “It wasn’t,” she told him.

  “That’s good to know.” He licked his lips, the way he always licked his lips when he saw she was upset with something he had done.

  “I’m not angry you didn’t go back home,” she replied.

  “I couldn’t.”

  “I know, just listen to what I’m saying for once, Dad. I understand you couldn’t get home, that things were too crazy, and you were looking for somewhere safe. I get that.” He was nodding at each point as they came out of her mouth. “I came looking for you. Was nearly killed by Jeffereys and his men when I got to the house. But what I don’t understand is why you didn’t come looking for me. Why you didn’t come to Fort Baker?” The sudden shock of pain on her father’s face broke Dana’s heart, even through her sadness. He didn’t have an answer, and that was the most painful part of all.

  A shadow filled the tent entrance. It was Timothy, and he spoke to Dana without acknowledging her dad was even there.

  “All Father would like to see you right away.”

  Larry Nowak

  Compound basement, Rainbowland, UT

  Larry flipped the pages, reading through the frayed notebook with great interest. The name he’d seen scrawled on the cover had given him chills.

  Abigail.

  All Father’s daughter. The one he claimed had received messages from spirits in a process called automatic writing. The same daughter that was now dead.

  The penmanship was hard to make out at times, lending a drop of credibility to the idea that something else had been in control of Abigail’s hand. Just what that was, Larry didn’t know. Although the further he read, the more it was beginning to look like the mad scribbling of a flaked-out nut job.

  We are called Aletheia, and we are here with you tonight. Let us begin our dictation. The universe is composed of planes of consciousness. There are seven in all, each one ascending toward the Creator, All That Is. The lowest of the sev
en and furthest from the creator’s love is the Earth plane. This realm is as the depths of the ocean, where the sun’s rays cannot reach. But there is another force that dwells in its place. A sinister force, known in your civilization as evil, a force more ancient than time itself that seeks with single-minded determination to keep the murky depths imprisoned in darkness. Fast approaching is the reckoning. The ultimate battle between the light from above and the darkness below.

  Larry glanced up from the page, struck by the discrepancy between this passage and what he’d heard All Father say on more than one occasion. There was no such thing as evil, the old bastard had said, only ignorance; yet what Larry was reading here seemed to indicate otherwise. Not only did it say that evil existed, but that a showdown between good and evil was fast approaching. A reckoning. ‘Course Larry knew well enough it was all a bunch of bullshit. The issue wasn’t whether this crap was true. The entirety of the cult’s philosophy – he had learned since arriving – centered on not harming another living thing. But calling them scriptures didn’t do justice to the insanity of it all. These were texts the cultists had pulled together using highlights from Abigail’s journals, journals they said had been destroyed. But in the armful of texts Timothy had given him to study before the ceremony, not a single one had mentioned anything about evil or a reckoning.

  Was All Father cherry picking from his daughter’s crazy ramblings in order to form the basis for his own religion? A tiny thought began to form in Larry’s head. Small at first, as it wiggled around and slowly grew, until he could no longer ignore it. With his daughter getting the messages, it hadn’t taken long for Peter, soon to become All Father, to start playing the head priest. But what if the messages coming from Abigail/Aletheia weren’t in sync with the message of brotherly love Peter was so determined to preach? The conflict would certainly have set them at odds, wouldn’t it?

  It wasn’t until Larry scanned down the page and saw the following passage that the niggle became a full-fledged flashing light.

  We are called Aletheia, and we are here with you tonight. Let us begin our dictation. We wish to warn you of a disturbing possibly we have foreseen. Your small, peaceful community will be led down a dangerous path by a corrupt leader. There is an enemy within what you have begun calling Rainbowland, a cancer that, if left untreated, will tear to shreds all that you have worked so hard to build.

  The next thing that popped into Larry’s head shocked even him.

  The son of a bitch killed his own daughter.

  The message was clear enough. Abigail probably saw her father slowly twisting the philosophy she was laying down and fought back in the only way she could. By using the words of their God, Aletheia, to warn of his corruption and the inevitable destruction of everything they held dear. Oh, but Peter stopped it dead in its tracks, didn’t he? After seeing the warning his daughter shot across his bow, he would have known the cult’s followers would always take her side. And why not, the girl was their very own oracle. And back then he was still only Peter, the failed farmer, father of Abigail. Then, Abigail died and faded into history, along with the more inconvenient parts of her messages from “spirit.” Larry didn’t doubt for a second that was when Peter had transformed himself into All Father, custodian of the truth.

  ‘Course, all of this was pure speculation, but suddenly Larry had more than just a bunch of frightened strangers to back him up. He had something over All Father he hadn’t had before.

  Leverage.

  And he intended to use every ounce of it to get what he wanted.

  Dana Hatfield

  All Father’s office, Rainbowland, UT

  Dana entered All Father’s office, wearing her gun. Nearly everything about the room was bright and cheerful – yellow walls, the mural behind him of the figure in silent medication – everything except for the man seated before her. The heavy rings under All Father’s eyes were red and puffy. That would make two tearful men she’d seen today. Marshmallows, they called them in the Coast Guard, and for a moment, Dana felt a sting of longing for the service and the sailors she’d served with.

  Timothy closed the door, leaving the two of them alone.

  “You wanted to see me?” she asked.

  He pointed to the empty chair on the other side of the desk. “Have a seat, Dana, and please, call me Peter. All Father is really for the members of our congregation.”

  “All right ... Peter.” Dana was biting at her thumbnail. “I wanted to thank you for what you did earlier, saving my life.”

  The change in his expression was instantaneous, as though a dark cloud had settled back over the old man’s already weathered face.

  “Taking another life is never the right decision, and so on that basis I cannot accept your gratitude. Our principles state very clearly, by either act or omission, you shall not harm another living thing. If I’d allowed that man to rape and kill you, then I would bear part of his guilt. A Catch-22 I fully understand.”

  “I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for what you did,” she said. “That has to count for something.”

  The cloud seemed to dissipate a bit. “Nor would I be alive if you hadn’t shot those men and ushered me to safety.”

  Dana was suddenly aware of her SIG digging into her side and was sure Peter was about to ask her to hand it over, but he didn’t.

  “What happened earlier today was a stark reminder that the universe is always testing us. Rainbowland isn’t safe. I’m man enough to admit that I was wrong. Violence is not our way, and that will never change, but we do need to maintain peace and order. We need to do what we can to protect the people who have come to us for shelter.” He was eyeing the gun now with some reluctance. “To make a long story short, someone has to be in charge of security here in Rainbowland, and I can think of no one more qualified than you.”

  The surprise on Dana’s face must have shown. “Are you asking me to be your ... sheriff?”

  “Sheriff sounds like something out of the Wild West, doesn’t it? I think peacekeeper sounds so much nicer.”

  “Sure, I suppose. Wow, I admit I’m a little surprised. I was expecting you to ask me something else ... ”

  Peter regarded her quizzically, waiting for her to elaborate.

  Dana thought about her father and how she’d contemplated leaving to find somewhere safer. Surely, other groups of people must have banded together in some other part of the country.

  “Well, then, as your new head of security, we need to discuss how you intend to keep men like Jeffereys from killing innocent people.”

  All Father raised an eyebrow. “Jeffereys? You know the men who attacked us by name?”

  Dammit, Dana, when are you gonna learn to keep your big mouth shut?

  “I don’t know them. They tried to kidnap me in San Francisco. They’re slavers.”

  That cloud was back. “So you’re saying they followed you here?”

  “No, I don’t see how they could have. They must have heard your broadcast on the short wave radio and figured the place would be easy pickings.”

  Peter shook his head. “Short wave?”

  “Your broadcast.”

  “You’re the third person who’s mentioned this. I can assure you cult members are forbidden from using electronics of any kind.”

  Now it was Dana’s turn to wonder what the hell was going on. “Apparently, someone in Rainbowland thinks otherwise.”

  Carole Cartright

  Medical tent, Rainbowland, UT

  Carole wrung the water from the cloth and used it to clean the dried blood from Dale’s face. His breathing was labored and uneven, but it was there. When the cart at the airport had driven over him, it had broken three of his ribs. Dale’s chest was red and swollen. Might have even punctured one of his lungs. She wasn’t certain. How could she be? She wasn’t a nurse, nor was anyone else who’d volunteered to help with the wounded. All she could do was clean him up and make him as comfortable as possible. It hadn’t been long before her sense of owne
rship over Dale’s life-threatening injuries began to bear the unmistakable quality of a crushing weight, settling over her shoulders. She’d appealed to these men for help in rescuing Aiden from the airport and in the process, she had sacrificed an innocent life.

  Carole dunked the cloth back in the bucket and watched wisps of blood make circular patterns in the water. First Aiden and now Nikki. She’d taken her eyes off one to save the other, and now both of them were gone. Wringing the water out, she cleaned the blood from Dale’s face with a repetition that was almost approaching superstition. If she could only clean away all the dried blood, maybe then he’d be OK.

  In the background, she heard the faint sounds of the others who had been wounded during the attack. A middle-aged man in jeans and a striped shirt was missing an arm; hacked off by the same kind of sick, soulless bastards who probably had both of her children. A spasm of grief hit her at the thought, and her body tensed with the surge of emotion. Protecting her kids had been her main purpose after what All Father called The Shift, and her failure to do so was weakening her very will to live. What was she fighting for if not for them? Certainly not for herself.

  She heard a voice whispering behind her. Carole turned and saw Lou, hunched over his son, Ethan. He’d been hit in the head, suffered what she guessed was a concussion and had been drifting in and out of consciousness since the attack. The boy was awake now, and it sounded as though Lou was telling him everything was going to be all right. Not that there was any way he could promise such a thing. They were sitting ducks. All those animals needed to do was head back to Rainbowland, and the rest of them would be theirs.

  During the few minutes he was lucid, Ethan had told her Nikki had been taken. But there were still plenty of details the kid hadn’t given up.

  As the attackers had fled Rainbowland, they’d left behind their own dead and dying. From what Carole had seen, these were ordinary-looking folks in torn and tattered clothing. Two of the bodies, however, were men dressed in black leather outfits. They almost looked like biker types, and it was that similarity in dress and the fact that they’d showed up driving a yellow school bus that made her wonder if the guys in leather had been saved from the effects of The Shift. Perhaps they were the masterminds, or at least part of a group that was exerting some level of control over those Finn had termed the Wipers.