Anxiety: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller (The Agora Virus Book 2)

by Jack Hunt

  “If you see my father, let him know I love him. I don’t know if we are getting out of this.”

  “Don’t say shit like that.”

  “I’m scared, Gabriel.”

  “I know, just hang in there. Is Hayley okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Listen, we’ll come to help, trust me. We’re coming.”

  “Hurry.”

  And that was it. He sent another text message but didn’t get a reply. He felt like an idiot for promising her something when he had no clue where the hell he was. He looked up and pressed on towards the house. When he climbed onto the porch and peeked in through the window, he saw a family huddled together in a living room. They looked to be discussing something. A large kitchen knife rested on the table and a baseball bat was leaning up against the counter. He couldn’t make out what they were saying but the conversation with a dark-haired man looked to be heated. He contemplated just pressing on into the darkness of the night but he was done running. Something had to be done. This was bigger than his fear.

  He moved towards the door, readied the gun, and turned the knob.

  If they were dangerous, he was about to find out.

  Twenty-Two

  Chaos erupted as Gabriel rushed into the house. The dark-haired man rose from the table, grabbing the baseball bat. Not that it would have been much use against a gun but he certainly looked as if he wasn’t prepared to go down without a fight. He swung it back and forth shouting for him to get out of the house.

  He pushed the woman and two kids behind his back and stared at Gabriel.

  “Are you here to kill us? Did Butch send you?” the man asked.

  Gabriel shook his head. “No. I thought you might be working with him.”

  Confusion spread across their faces, as it did his.

  “Why the hell would I work for that controlling asshole?”

  “So you’re not family?”

  His eyes widened. “Hell no.”

  Gabriel lowered his rifle. “I’m Gabriel, and you are?”

  Still clutching the baseball tightly he muttered, “Landon and this is my wife, Sandra.”

  His two kids peered out from behind him, a look of shock on their faces.

  “I’m sorry to barge in this way. I wasn’t sure if you were part of his family.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “It’s a long story. Queens, but I came here with a friend of mine, Ella Talbot.”

  “Frank Talbot’s daughter?”

  He nodded. “You know him?”

  “Who doesn’t?” He released his death grip on the bat. “I’m a doctor in Clayton and besides him always walking around with a face mask on, which I have to say now was a smart thing to do, he would always be coming into the office expressing that he had some new disease. I think I’ve seen him more than any patient in the town.”

  “Butch has a friend of mine, I’m pretty sure he plans to kill him along with those on Frank’s island. And while I didn’t hear him, I think he has Frank now.”

  Landon looked at his wife. “I told you. He’s out of control.” He looked back at Gabriel. “Look, I would like to help but there’s just a few of us islanders. We’re a tight-knit community but no way prepared to take on these guys.”

  “So what’s the baseball bat and knife for?”

  He cast a glance at the items. “Protection.”

  “Be honest with him, Landon,” Sandra said. Landon looked at her with hard features. The tension in his face softened and he sighed. “I was going to speak with the others on the island, see what we could do about him. I know there aren’t many families here right now but there’s enough men to deal with him.”

  Gabriel smirked. “Vigilante style. I like it.”

  “Ah, well, I was thinking that until my wife here was trying to talk me out of it.”

  “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

  Gabriel took a seat at the table. The chair screeched as he pulled it out. “Look, whatever he is doing here, it’s going to get a lot worse. One of his cousins was killed and now he thinks he’s going to get justice by killing Frank, Sal, and my friends. I need to stop him but I can’t do it alone. Do you have a boat?”

  Landon ran a hand through his hair and leaned against the kitchen counter. “Had. I had one. He took it, like he did most of our supplies.”

  Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “Why didn’t you leave the first chance you got?”

  “And go where? Clayton is a mess, the whole country is and without supplies…” he trailed off.

  “Better to stick with the devil you know than the devil you don’t. I gotcha,” Gabriel replied.

  Sandra went over to the stove and returned with some tea. “You want a hot drink?”

  “Thank you but I have to go. For all I know Frank and Tyrell are dead but I need to see.”

  Gabriel stood up. “You don’t have any guns?”

  “No. But I’m pretty sure Tom Hannigan has one. He said that he had his locked up in the basement behind a pile of boxes.”

  “Right, but I mean you?”

  “I was never a firearms owner.”

  “I can get you one, show you how to use it, that is if you still want to help?”

  “We would need the others.”

  Gabriel walked over to the door. “Well?”

  Landon looked at Sandra and her eyes dropped.

  “Keep the kids safe,” he said leaning forward and giving her a peck on the forehead. They left the residence and Gabriel got directions back to the south side of the island from him. Upon returning to the spot where they stashed their rifles, he handed one to Landon and took him through the basics of using it. After he slung the other one over his shoulder, they pressed on towards Tom Hannigan’s house.

  A strong breeze blew through the trees kicking up dust and making the night seem darker.

  “How many others do you think will help?”

  “There are ten families on the island, possibly seven of them might help, maybe more, maybe less.”

  “It will have to do.”

  Frank felt blood rush back into his limbs as they cut free his restraints. Butch was preparing to leave for the mainland so the place was a hive of activity.

  “What about Tyrell?”

  “Like I said, he stays here. And if for even a second you try to screw me over, I’ll make a call and my brother will kill him. You understand?”

  Frank nodded while rubbing his red wrists. His arms ached from where they’d been wrapped so tight.

  “Dawson, Adam, Randall. You’re coming with me.”

  Butch glared at Frank. For someone who exercised his authority over others, he certainly wasn’t taking any chances. Since Frank had been tied to the post he’d watched different members of Butch’s personal and extended family come and go. He knew that six of them had gone to his island, three of them were going with Butch, and there were Dougie, Bret, Palmer, and Jackson staying behind with the women. Jimmy was dead. He figured that at best there were about eighteen of them. Thirteen guys and five women. Nine staying behind. If this worked, and Sal and the others took out the ones attacking the island, it would mean only dealing with nine people, he thought. Those were better odds.

  Butch leered at him. Right now he had to focus on these four.

  “Okay, get on the ATV and head down to the dock. I want to get this done before midnight.” He then turned to Dougie. “Wait on my call.”

  “You got it, brother,” he said with a devilish glint in his eye.

  The journey down to the boats was bumpy. The reflection of the moon on the water caught his eye as they zipped down thin trails in between the trees. The engines growled violently. They had him handcuffed around Dawson’s waist. To look at them anyone would have thought they were just typical, run-of-the-mill blue-collar workers. Nothing would indicate they were capable of this. And yet it didn’t seem like a far stretch of the imagination. With no law around to stop them, and no one with enough balls to stand up to them, it
was just a matter of time before someone would try to dominate others. It just so happened to be Butch.

  When they arrived at Tom Hannigan’s house, his family had turned in for the night. Landon banged on the door for several minutes before the lights came on in the house and a bleary-eyed guy, who couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred and forty pounds, came to the door in a dressing gown. He adjusted his spectacles and squinted as he opened the door, then pushed wide the storm door.

  “Landon?”

  “We need to speak.”

  “Come in.”

  Inside it smelled like lemon. As they entered the hallway of a beautiful house that had hardwood floors, granite countertops, and a chandelier hanging from the ceiling, a woman appeared at the top of the stairs.

  “Tom, who is it?”

  “Just Landon. Go back to bed.”

  With that said, he waved them into the spacious kitchen with a cathedral ceiling. The entire residence was made from logs. A large painting with a portrait of his family hung above a fireplace in an area that served as the dining room. He beckoned them on into a study and closed the French doors behind him.

  All around the room were shelves of old leather books, some of them had brass buckles on them. It looked as if he had collected every ancient book known to man.

  Tom leaned against his desk looking like a Wall Street executive.

  “What’s going on? Who is this?” He glanced at Gabriel.

  “This is Gabriel.” He never expanded upon that but stayed on topic. “That conversation we had after the meeting. You still want to go through with it?”

  He smoothed a hand over his black hair and got a dead serious look on his face.

  “Does Sandra know?”

  “I told her this evening,” Landon said.

  “And?”

  “She’s not for it, but she’s not against it. Listen, you know as well as I do that this isn’t going to work. The guy is a lunatic. Would you have put up with this before the virus?” Before Tom could answer, Landon answered for him. “No. Neither would I, that’s why we need to do something about it.”

  “I don’t know, Landon. It seems a bit sudden.”

  “You told Maria, didn’t you?”

  He nodded sheepishly.

  “She doesn’t want any harm coming to the kids.”

  “It’s going to happen one way or another, Tom. Tell him, Gabriel.”

  Gabriel took a deep breath and began to relay what had happened starting with Butch taking Frank’s supplies, and then the death of his cousin and how he’d sent men over to kill his friends on the island.

  “I understand but let’s face it. Do you blame him?”

  Landon put a hand on his hip and leaned in to him. “Are you kidding? It doesn’t matter who’s to blame here. Retaliation is a sign of the future. What happens if one of us steps out of line, or looks at him the wrong way? Eh? What then?”

  Tom sniffed and rubbed sleep dust from his eyes. “Well it won’t happen.”

  Landon spun around and ran a hand around his neck. “Oh come on, Tom, don’t be so damn gullible. Men like Butch don’t use diplomacy, they rule with an iron fist. And no matter how you try and spin this, or suck down what he’s telling us, he is attempting to rule over us. And I for one am not going to sit by while my family gets the shit end of the stick and he gets to thrive in the lap of luxury.”

  “But he’s going to protect us.”

  “Is that Maria speaking or you? Do you honestly believe that?”

  “Well…”

  “Don’t even answer it. I could have blown you away with a rifle the moment you opened the door. Where are his men patrolling your house? My house or any of ours? He’s looking out for number one, and that’s it. All the rest is lip service.”

  Gabriel leaned back against a desk and just let Landon do all the talking. He was obviously so riled up that he didn’t need his input.

  “I don’t know, Landon.”

  “Tom, how many years have you and I been coming here?”

  He scratched the side of his face and looked off into the distance. “Twenty-six.”

  “How many years has he been here?”

  “Not long. He only comes here for his retreats.”

  “Exactly. This isn’t his damn island. It’s ours. It’s time we take it back.”

  Tom nodded ever so slightly. Though he didn’t look confident or completely in agreement, he looked open to ideas. “So, how are we going to do this?”

  Gabriel pushed off the desk and stepped forward. “That’s where I can help.”

  Bullets shattered all the lower windows and glass spat in every direction. Sal had pulled them back into the center of the house and away from the walls that were being drilled with rounds. His adrenaline had kicked into gear as they returned fire.

  “How the hell are we going to get out of this?”

  “How the hell should I know?” Jameson said before looking over to Zach. “How’s he doing?”

  Gloria had done her best job of patching Zach up but he didn’t look well. His skin had gone a pasty white and he was rolling around in pain. “Gloria, there is some rye whiskey in the cupboard in the basement.”

  Jameson looked at Sal with an expression of amusement. “You looking to get drunk before you die?”

  “It’s not for me, it’s for Zach. At least it might take the edge off.”

  “Old style, I like it.”

  Outside it went quiet. It was hard to make out where the men were and they didn’t want to get too close to the windows out of fear of being shot in the face. Jameson had come within inches of having his ear torn apart the last time he looked out.

  “Sal, you might want to come and see this,” Ella shouted out. Staying in a crouched position he shuffled across the floor and up the stairs. When he made it to the top, Ella was positioned behind a thick mahogany dresser drawer. She had placed it front of the windows.

  “Smart idea.”

  “It lets me look out without them seeing me,” she said peering through a thin section on the far right side.

  “What do you want?”

  She motioned with her finger towards a section of the property. There was a light flickering. Like a large flaming torch.

  “I think they are going to burn us out.”

  “Holy shit.”

  He backed up fast and rushed down the stairs.

  “Jameson, come with me,” he said heading towards the basement.

  “But…”

  “Just come. Ella, take over down here. Whatever you do, don’t let them through those doors. And one last thing. When I tell you to start shooting, unleash hell on them.”

  Sal pressed on down the steps and headed over to the metal storm doors. He started unlocking two large locks.

  “Um, what the hell are you doing?”

  “We’re going out.”

  Jameson lunged forward and slammed his hand against the lock. “Are you out of your mind? There are six guys out there. We have a wounded guy inside, plus three women and three kids. You want to leave them here to defend themselves?”

  “We don’t have any choice. They are going to burn us out. They are watching the windows. Ella is going to cause a distraction, and lay down enough firepower that we can make a break for the cluster of trees close by.”

  “And if we don’t make it?”

  “Then I guess it’s been a pleasure.”

  “You have been around Frank way too long.”

  The corner of Sal’s lip curled up. Once he got the second lock off, he took a deep breath and then shouted out to Ella.

  “Let it rip, Ella.”

  Right then multiple rounds erupted on the north side of the house. There were too many for it to have been just Ella and Hayley.

  “You ready?”

  “No.”

  “Good.”

  With that said he flung the door open and they ascended the five steps up to the east side of the house. With all the shooting going on, it was har
d to tell if they were firing at them or Ella. As soon as they were out, he slammed the door closed and locked it while Jameson kept his eyes peeled for threats.

  Once the door was locked, the silhouette of their two shadows burst out across the grass and into the tree line.

  Twenty-Three

  Upon arriving on the mainland, Frank’s anxiety was at an all-time high. He knew that if anything went wrong, it was lights-out for them all. All the way there, Butch had been droning on about how he was changing the hearts and minds of those living on the island. The guy was crazy. He actually thought he was doing good by them.

  When they made it to Abner Rooney’s place, Butch had Dawson hold Frank while Adam and Randall went inside to make sure there were no threats. While they were looking around they all took in the sight of his ramshackle abode. It had been peppered with bullet holes and all the windows were shattered.

  “So why did you kill him, Frank?”

  “Who?”

  “Clarence.”

  “Didn’t you hear anything I told you?”

  “I did but nothing but lies have come out of your mouth since this whole thing has kicked off.”

  “Believe what you want. I didn’t kill anyone.”

  “Not even Jimmy?”

  “The gun went off as we were struggling.”

  “But somebody had to pull the trigger.”

  Adam and Randall reemerged and gave them the all-clear signal.

  Butch motioned with his hand. “Alright, Frank, lead the way.”

  Dawson shoved him forward and they ambled up to a door that was barely hanging from its hinges. Glass crunched beneath their boots as they entered the final resting place of Abner Rooney. The smell of death stung Frank’s nostrils. In the heat of the summer it hadn’t taken long for the bodies to begin to rot. Frank noticed that Joey and the others had torn the place apart searching for the weapons, but to no avail.

  “I’ve got to say, Frank. It takes either a brave or a stupid man to turn himself in on behalf of his friends. I have to admit, we could have used a man like yourself.”

  “I don’t work well with others.”

  Butch scoffed. “Explains a lot.”