“I won’t be long, darling. Did I ever tell you you’re the best guy a girl could ever wish for?”
“I’m the lucky one ... I love you.”
“I love you too,” she said sweetly before giving a little wave and switching off the holophone.
She opened the car door onto the brightly lit but deserted sidewalk outside the drugstore. It was Sunday night and most people were already home in this part of town. No other cars occupied the small strip mall lot—not uncommon now that all cars were autonomous. In reality, her private auto-car was a luxury rather than a necessity but she liked the idea of it being a personal space where she could choose the coffee, the seat settings and leave stuff lying around in the spacious cabin. It’d be even more useful once the baby came along and they could permanently install the infant safety pod.
She hauled herself from the car. The baby had added a good fifteen pounds and she felt it every time she got up, every time she walked. The glass doors to the small drugstore swished open. She’d not been to this particular store before, but the chain she knew well. Directly ahead was the counter and a white-jacketed pharmacist with a receding hairline, wearing round, dark frames.
He nodded amiably and said, “Good evening ma’am. What can I help you with this evening?”
She approached the desk and pointed to her baby, smiling.
“This little guy’s still giving me morning sickness and I’ve run out of Nausease.”
“Okay, no problem. If you could just place your chipped hand under the reader and we’ll see what we can do for you.”
She placed her right hand under the RFID reader and the light on the top turned green.
“Your family doctor is Dr. Hardy, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“And I see here that, indeed, he’s prescribed—”
The pharmacist looked up, past Juliet’s shoulder toward the entrance, his grin melting away, frown lines appearing on his forehead.
As Juliet turned around, he called out nervously, “Err, sir ... sir, can I help you?”
A thin guy in filthy jeans and a dark hoodie, came striding into the store, his hands in his pockets. Juliet watched his snarling, pale face complete with dark circles and blackened teeth as he approached the counter. She backed away to the side to get out of his way. Everything about this guy rang alarms bells.
The pharmacist repeated firmly, “I said can I help you, sir?”
What he meant was, You don’t belong here, but if I treat you civilly maybe you’ll do the same.
Hoodie reached the sales desk and leaned over, causing the pharmacist to back away.
“Now I’m gonna ask nicely,” he said, before banging his fist on the counter. “Open that fuckin’ door now and let me get what I need.”
She watched the pharmacist start shaking as the blood-shot eyed junkie reached around behind. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the handgun tucked into his waistband.
“Okay, so you don’t wanna play nice you four-eyed motherfucker? Well, how about this?”
And he drew his gun, pointing it right at the frightened man’s face. She raised her hand to her mouth, the other instinctively covering her baby as she edged away hoping to get closer to the exit without him realizing. He spun around, aiming the gun at her head, sending her stomach lurching.
“Bitch, stay where I can fuckin’ see ya!”
She nodded, terrified of the unstable monster.
Then, before he turned back to the pharmacist, a loud rushing noise came from nowhere as the security screen rose up from the counter top, sealing the pharmacist behind it. Simultaneously, Juliet made a break for the front door but couldn’t outrun hoodie in her pregnant state. He grabbed her hair and yanked hard sending her to the floor on her rear.
“Get the fuck up, bitch. I ain’t done here yet!”
He pulled hard on her long blonde hair forcing her to stand to relieve the pain. He grabbed her around the neck with his foul-smelling breath polluting her face.
“You’re gonna get me what I need, bitch!” he growled menacingly in her ear as she tried to turn away from him in disgust.
She was too frightened to speak and started shaking, the tears welling in her eyes.
“Wh-whatever you need, just... Just don’t hurt my baby.”
He held out the gun, covering the staff entrance and shouted, “Hey, four-eyes... You better come out right now before I waste this nice lady all over your drugstore!”
He held the gun to her temple, sending a new wave of fear pulsing through her.
Looking up at the camera dome, he screamed, “Come on you cowardly motherfucker, before I waste the bitch and shoot out yer goddam door!”
Then the staff door flew open and the pharmacist stood there holding a shotgun, but he hesitated when he saw she was the scumbag’s human shield.
Juliet closed her eyes and said a silent prayer as Luker’s face appeared in her mind. Tears streamed down her face and she felt the warm liquid start emptying from her bladder, soaking her pants. She opened her eyes again as the assailant pointed the gun at the pharmacist and snapped off two shots. Time seemed to slow down as the first hit him in the chest, sending him backwards as the shotgun exploded into life, sending its slug into the ceiling. The second round had missed the pharmacist, but he was down anyway. The junkie shuffled forward to stand over the dying man who was now clutching the red bloom on his chest, gasping for air.
“Shoulda just let me in four-eyes,” growled the sneering junkie.
He pointed his gun at the poor man’s head and pulled the trigger, sending Juliet into a fit of sobs and hyperventilation.
“And then there were two,” he said, pushing her to the floor in the corner beside the dead man.
She raised her hands and whimpered, “You didn’t have to do that.”
“You think people like him give a fuck ‘bout people like me? Do you give a fuck? No, you don’t, so I’m getting what I need and I don’t need no witnesses.”
A sadistic grin filled his face as his last words sank in. He raised the gun as she pleaded, “No, please don’t ... please, please ... no.”
Then he pulled the trigger and darkness descended upon her.
***
Sunday, 6 June 2066, ER Department, Northern Cross Medical Center, LA
Luker felt numb, detached from his body as though this was all happening to someone else. Except it wasn’t. How quickly his life had changed from everything going right to this.
The words of the ER doctor played over and over in his mind as he sat in the small family room, the clinician’s stony face delivering what he must’ve done many times before.
“I’m deeply sorry, Mr. Luker, but we were unable to revive Juliet. We’re still trying to save the child. Again, we’re all deeply sorry,” the doctor had said.
So why the hell aren’t you in there doing your work, Luker thought, but didn’t say.
Instead, he just nodded stoically and said, “Okay.”
Perhaps they replaced the doc, he decided with the first clear thought since the first responders had called him.
It’d been an hour now since the ambulance had arrived at the ER. His thoughts returned to the darkness of this living nightmare. They’d rushed Juliet straight to surgery. No, they’d rushed Ryan, straight to theater. Luker recalled his feeling of utter helplessness as they rushed past with Juliet already covered up as if she were gone. His little boy, capable of life outside the womb, just four weeks away from a natural birth, was now fighting for his life. Such evil inflicted on him before his life had even begun.
And he knew exactly what had happened. The first responder was his friend. The words stuck in his mind, words he’d never forget until the day he died.
“Juliet’s been shot, Dan. I’m—I’m so sorry. It doesn’t look good. The paramedics are trying to save them. We need to join the manhunt and catch this bastard…”
Why had this happened to her? She was a good person.
No tear
s had come to Luker. He was too numb for tears. His brain knew the devastating facts, but they hadn’t truly sunk in. It felt as though he was detached from his mind, as if he was witnessing all this from somewhere a few feet away. Once the tears started, he feared they’d never stop. He would miss Juliet forever. Now, the best he could hope for was a life together bringing up their son. A little boy born from his mother’s dead body. It was a deal Luker was forced to accept over the unbearable alternative.
The first seeds of revenge had already put down their roots. In time, he knew that seed would grow into a mighty oak of wrath. He would go to the ends of the Earth to get the sick bastard who did this. Luker had lived his entire career trying to deliver justice. Right now, he only thought of revenge.
He watched another minute reach conclusion and he threw his heads into his hands.
“God no… Why?” he muttered.
Please, oh Lord, kept our tiny Ryan safe from harm. Please, God, look after my Juliet in heaven. This is all I ask of you, nothing more.
The door opened and Luker looked up. It was the same doctor. He closed the door and sat beside Luker as he searched his face for signs of hope. All he saw was sorrow and regret. The doctor put his hand on Luker’s shoulder, looked down briefly as though steeling himself, then looked him in the eyes.
“I’m deeply sorry, Mr. Luker …”
Luker heard nothing else. They were both gone, their lives snatched away for nothing more than some junkie’s high.
In the course of a few hours, Luker’s life had changed forever. Evil had come to take away his loved ones’ futures and to ruin his. For the first time in his life, he was a truly broken man. He had changed forever and didn’t know if he could ever rise again.
10
Present Day, Earth
The lifepod’s cameras showed an icefield devoid of life—no trees, no plants and no animals. No signs of civilization. To the south, east and west a thin sliver of blue ran between the thick white cloud and the horizon. A snow-covered ridge skirted the northern vista, the upper reaches blending into the white sky. Watching the upper slopes, I saw them fade in and out of resolution as strong winds drove the varying densities of snow clouds. Occasionally a gust-induced howl breached the lifepod’s walls and reached my ears. The capsule sat almost vertical and stable. Before launch, landing in a frozen lake or river had been one of my fears.
I checked Professor Heinz’s watch, which read 11p.m. Whatever time zone he’d set it to wasn’t here as evidenced by the daylight. If I was in North America, then maybe it was on GMT. The terminal told me that I’d landed nineteen miles east of the radio transmission site, the one with the guys speaking some other language that even Laetitia didn’t understand. As well as English, of course. They’d told me if I had something to trade then I should know where they are. So did that mean they were operating some sort of trading post or they were traders in a city? I hoped there was such a thing as a city in this barren place.
The terminal divulged some other important things. The atmospheric composition was virtually the same as 2070 Earth except for the slightly elevated levels of carbon dioxide. I somehow doubted that was due to industrial activity. It could’ve been a result of the impact, whenever that happened. Gravity and air pressure were normal, but the outside temperature was a frigid minus nineteen Celsius—minus two Fahrenheit in old money—in North America in July. Even the far north of Canada wouldn’t have seen those sorts of temperatures in summer. But that was 2070, this was 2584.
I sat staring at the year on the watch: 2584. I still couldn’t get my head around it. In many ways, I was a time-traveler, catapulted forward to a different age. Did the people here even know about the great civilization of the twenty-first century and all that led up to it? Would they treat me as a teacher, a messiah or just a deluded mind? After all, if someone had turned up on my doorstep in 2070 and told me they were from the fifteen hundreds, what would I have thought?
Only one-way to find out, I reminded myself as I released the harness and climbed down to the upper seating level. I checked out the gear I’d secured to the deck and saw nothing had been damaged by the chaotic descent. The hatch to the lower level came up easily and I continued down the ladder to the lower level and onward into the storage hold below via another hatch. On went the flashlight and a quick inspection showed no damage here either. After going back up and donning my cold-weather gear and grabbing my backpack, I went down and powered up the ATV, confirming it still worked. Next, I tried the mechanical release on the flip-down exit door opposite the vehicle. The idea was that it could drive straight out. Nice idea, assuming the door would open, but embedded in the ice it parted only inches at the top. There was no forcing it and the other three doors were the same. So I had a choice: either walk or get out the shovel and dig a way through.
I acted fast. There was snow on the ridgeline and I had no idea how heavy it could be or how bad the drifts were. The last thing I needed was to dig down to the cargo hold door only to have it filled back in with a fresh snowdrift. After locating the shovel—not a snow shovel, unfortunately—I opened the lower passenger level hatch, pushing against the biting gale trying to keep it closed. Looking down, I could see the icy ground six feet below, so I threw the shovel then jumped. The vicious cold hit me immediately with the intent of sucking every vestige of warmth from my body. I regretted not having worn the ski mask before jumping out and grasped for it in my pocket. Reluctantly, I pulled down my hood and ski goggles and donned the mask, replacing the hood and goggles seconds later. With the shovel in hand, I crunched through a thin layer of snow overlaying ice, making my way around to the cargo hold door. I dug away the mound of ice and snow around the embedded capsule and found the top of the door only a foot or so below the surface. The ATV would need a slope if I were to drive it out, so I stepped back and started digging along a gradient toward the door. The muscle-generated warmth felt good in the Arctic conditions, the likes of which were all the encouragement I needed to work fast. Forty-five minutes later, I stood back and admired my work before trying to walk down the slope to the door. Even using the shovel, it was slippery and I found myself wishing I’d thought to bring snowshoes or something better than the boots I wore. The shovel blade did a good job of levering open the door, which had seemed to have frozen stuck. Using the shovel as an arm-extension, I hooked the handle behind the doors and yanked it down. Its pneumatic cylinders eased it slowly to the ground, forming a ramp for the ATV.
I still had work to do before driving off over the horizon, but it was imperative to get the ATV out and shut up shop before the snow invaded the cargo hold. So I got in the large six seater machine, closed the Plexiglas door, sealing the transparent canopy against the weather. The electric motor awoke silently but then purred to life as I accelerated rapidly up the slope and onto the icy plain. I sat in the enclosed windbreak of the ATV. Although it was still cold, it felt infinitely better than being outside in the wind.
If this is summer, God only knows what winter’s like, I thought as I reluctantly left the ATV and headed back to the lifepod to get the transceiver.
The long-range transceiver sat on the snow in the lee of the capsule. Its circular form allowed much of the wind to skirt around it then mix in turbulent eddies on the other side. But I’d found a sweet spot with less buffeting. This time, I hadn’t lain the antenna on the deck as on the Juno but had elevated it vertically into the air. Despite its sturdy design, it wobbled and bucked in the gusting gale force winds. But it held. I dialed in the 165 kHz frequency and struggled to hear over the howling wind as the static gave way to a voice.
Crouching down, I cranked the volume up to the maximum and listened.
“Warning, this is the reserved frequency of Angels Station. Only authorized personnel may use this channel. The maximum penalty for transgression is death,” said the imperious-sounding male. Then it repeated, “Warning, this is ...”
A recorded message, by an unfriendly sounding local.
I was glad I’d come armed, even if it was with just a pair of handguns and a knife.
However, it was a signal nonetheless, so I set about resolving its location.
The bearing I got wouldn’t be perfect, but it tallied with what we’d learned from orbit. It measured 18.3 miles west on a heading of 268 degrees. It still wouldn’t be exact, but I hoped the antenna or some buildings would reveal the location of the so-called Angels Station. It could’ve been anywhere in North America, but the rough latitude we’d managed to derive from the Earth’s curvature and spin was somewhere between thirty-two and thirty-eight degrees north. The name, Angels Station... Could it have been derived from Los Angeles, the ancient mega-city that perished in the apocalypse? It seemed a strong possibility. Perhaps I’d get my wish and return home, whatever had become of it.
A survey of the other frequency bands turned up nothing, once again underlining what a desolate place this was. So I packed up the transceiver and withdrew to the warmth of the lifepod.
Next was to check in with Reichs and Laetitia using the lifepod’s comms set while the power cells still had some juice. Using the terminal, I placed the call. The seventy-minute wait told me I must have just missed them as their orbit took them around the planet and below the horizon. When I finally got through, it was more like a phone call than the crackling, hissing uncertainty of the transceiver.
Laetitia answered—presumably from one of the few functioning terminals.
“Hello, Mr. Luker. I trust your descent went smoothly.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say smoothly, but I’m okay. Hey, how’d you answer so quickly?”
“I had my intercom node patched through to the emergency lifepod comms.”
“Reichs with you?”
“No, Arnie is busy working on the shuttle launch tube. We have rigged up the hydraulic pumps to the cylinders, but have stumbled upon some problems in the—”
Home Planet: Apocalypse (Part 2) Page 9