Earth's Survivors Box Set [Books 1-7]

by Wendell G. Sweet

  He looked at the others, and noticed they seemed to be panicked as well. What the hell, he wondered, as he fought to control the panic. He found himself suddenly raising the rifle and aiming at the car.

  "Shoot the bastard," Gary whispered. "The friggin' car, Frank, shoot the son-of-a-bitch, it's evil, can't you feel it?"

  Mike and Dave were looking at him, and Dave suddenly spoke. "It is, Frank, can't you feel it?" Mike turned facing the car, swallowing convulsively.

  The feeling suddenly swept Frank up. A knowing, a surety, that the car or whoever was in it was evil. Just as he began to raise the rifle, the cars headlights suddenly flicked on, and the rear tires spun on the slick pavement, smoking and screaming as they clawed for purchase. The engine whined higher in pitch and the big Lincoln seemed to jump out into the intersection. Almost pounce... Like a cat, Frank thought as he watched. It skewed around sideways on the wet asphalt and roared off towards Webster.

  The rifle in Frank's hands bucked and the rear window of the Lincoln burst inward in a spray of glittering black diamonds as it sped away. It briefly illuminated the interior, and, Frank saw, it was empty. He turned and faced Gary as if to confirm what his eyes had seen.

  "It...It." he said, as his dry mouth tried to work.

  "I saw, Frank, there wasn't nobody in it," Gary confirmed.

  Frank could still hear the Lincoln accelerating in the distance over the sound of the rain as it sped away, and feel the heavy pounding blat of its engine in the pavement under his feet. The four men turned away and walked slowly back towards the station in silence.

  Frank stopped at one of the Jeeps before they entered, and waited for the other three to catch up.

  "Listen," he said in a low tone, almost a whisper. "I don't think it's wise to scare the shit out of the others, and tell them that car was empty. Agreed?"

  Mike was still swallowing convulsively, but nodded his head up and down like a puppet. Gary and Dave both mumbled agreement.

  "Mike," Frank hissed, "snap out of it. It won't do any good if we walk in there with you looking like that." Mike nodded and tried to calm down. "Maybe you can get Bob aside and talk to him, Dave."

  Just as Frank had finished speaking, the door to the station swung open, and the people inside came out into the rain. Jessie, looking badly shaken, walked towards them with her hands folded across her chest.

  "There wasn't anyone in that car, Frank," she said. "I looked, we all looked, Frank.... When you shot out the back window."

  Her voice had risen as she spoke, and at the end she was nearly screaming. Frank pulled her to him and held her in the rain. To hell with it, he thought, keeping secrets was never one of my strong suits anyway. It's probably better this way.

  "Frank," Gary said. "I think it might be best if we stay here for tonight, instead of going into the city. I also think we ought to pull the Jeeps inside the service bays for the night... keep an eye on them. Probably ought to keep the rifles with us from now on too."

  For what, Frank wondered. There wasn't anyone in that car to shoot. Aloud, he said, "I guess you're right, Gary. Jessie, why don't you and the others go back inside and get the doors up. We'll pull the Jeeps in... Okay?" She hugged him fiercely before she let go and walked back into the station. The three of them quickly drove the Jeeps into the service bays, and then locked the wide doors behind them. They locked the front door to the station as well, and they all walked back into the rear section of the garage bays by a small parts room.

  Frank propped open the door to the parts room, and turned a small light on inside. The bulb was dim, but flooded weak yellow light out into the garage area, it was enough, he felt. If the Lincoln came back he didn't want them to be perfectly silhouetted inside the station by the florescent overheads in the garage bay.

  Jessie and Connie began to fix some cold sandwiches, while the others unloaded the sleeping bags and ice chests from the Jeeps.

  Frank was into his second beer and his heart was just beginning to resume a somewhat normal beat. Mike walked back from the front of the garage where he had been staring out into the rain. They all half expected the Lincoln to come roaring back at any second. The rifles were out of the Jeeps now. Close at hand, just in case. Jessie and Connie brought a large stack of sandwiches over, and both grabbed a cold drink, sitting down as Gary began to speak.

  "This changes everything," he said to no one in particular. "I don't think it's a good idea to just ignore it either."

  Frank took a deep gulp of the beer before he spoke. "I guess you're right, Gary and, it was stupid to think we should keep it to ourselves. I shouldn't have suggested it." He looked around at the small group of frightened people and his eyes locked on Jessie's as he continued to speak. "I thought it would shake everyone up for no reason," he said. "I didn't want to believe there was no one in that car either. In fact I was trying to convince myself that it might have been a young kid...slumped down in the seat maybe." The argument seemed empty and somewhat foolish even to him. "Gary's right though. We started to discuss it back in Watertown, and didn't. Maybe we should have...I don't know."

  His eyes were sad, Jessie noticed, and he shrugged his shoulders helplessly when he finished. Silence hung thick in the air for a few minutes until Gary reluctantly began to speak again.

  "I don't pretend to have an answer for one," he said quietly, as he looked around from one to the other. Gary continued. "There are also those vines to wonder about. I said before that I spent the night at the gravel pit, and I did. But, I didn't sleep. I couldn't. I was too keyed up. Hell, we all were. They seemed to grow out of nowhere at all, and quickly too. Does that sound right?" Several yes's, and a few nod's answered him. "So I guess that's it. At least for concrete things we know to be fact, that is. The other thing is that empty car. I saw it, and I really looked. It was empty, no ifs, ands, or buts. There wasn't a soul in it. Bob, you were inside the station. How did you feel?"

  "Scared, I guess," Bob said. "It was like one minute I felt okay and the next I was scared...Well, maybe more like terrified," he finished and stared vacantly back at Gary.

  The others, Jessie included, that had been inside, echoed Bob's statement.

  "It felt like something evil to me," Lisa said, looking as though she were about to cry. "I can't explain it any better than that."

  "You don't have to," Gary said, "we felt the same way outside. It was sort of like I knew the car was empty, even before Frank shot out the rear window. Well... Not empty, but... I guess what I felt is that there were no people in it. Not that the car itself was doing it, but, hell, I can’t explain it right... I felt," he said forcefully, "as though there was something evil in the car. Something evil that wanted us dead." Gary walked a few steps to the cooler, pulled out a beer, opened it, and guzzled half the can with his back to them. He seemed somewhat calmer as he turned back to face them.

  "That sounds nuts, right?"

  "If that was evil," John spoke up calmly, "then what are we? Good?"

  "Possibly," Gary replied.

  "Kind of makes you wish you had gone to church a little more often, doesn't it?" Frank asked, paused for a second, and then went on. "I never believed in God. I'll say that right out. We all said it already. But I'm starting to wonder. It's a hard thing for me to fully accept, but if I accept God being real, then I can accept the Devil, or evil, I guess, and that was what that thing was, I also felt there was something in that car, that thing was evil. I... No, Gary, I don't think you're nuts. If you are then we all are. I mean there has got to be some way to explain or at least understand this."

  "You just did," Jessie said quietly from beside him.

  "She's right, Frank," Gary said, "You did. God and the Devil, good and evil. It's the same thing. Maybe that's it. Maybe we are good and whatever evil is was in that car, and I don't think evil wants us here, or anywhere for that matter. I don't think this is a rational or explainable world anymore. If it isn't, then all that's left, Is simply good or evil. There is no in between any
more, just one or the other."

  "So what’s next?" Gina asked, expectantly.

  "If I knew that," Gary answered. "I guess I would be God. I'm not, so I don't know..."

  "...Just to make my position clear though, I don't intend to start waxing religious, but you can bet that I might just start praying. It used to seem superstitious to me. Not anymore. Now it seems important."

  Silence hung in the air for a few moments, and Connie spoke up. "But what should we do? Should we go back, or go into Rochester, or should we maybe go somewhere else?"

  "I think that question needs to be answered by all of us," Gary replied calmly. "It's not a question one person can answer, and we've pretty much stuck together so far, I can't see splitting up if there's a disagreement. I think we all need to decide together."

  "I don't see any reason to go back to Watertown," Lisa said

  "I agree," Dave joined in.

  "Well, whatever you guys decide is fine with me, I guess," Bob mumbled. Gary eyeballed him curiously.

  "There's nothing there for us," Connie said.

  One by one they all voiced their opinions, until only John, Jessie, Frank and Gary were left.

  "I don't see the sense in it," Frank said quietly. The remaining three nodded their heads in agreement.

  "So... do we go into Rochester, or somewhere else?" Gary asked softly as he looked around the cramped garage.

  "I for one would hate to think we came all this way for nothing," John said. "I vote we go. If it's bad," he shrugged his shoulders, "we get the hell out and go somewhere else."

  Gary looked back at the small group. "Well?"

  Silently, they all nodded their heads in agreement.

  "That's that then," Gary said. "We'll go in the mornin'," he paused. "Tonight though, I think we need to keep watch. I'm going to take the first watch, who's next?"

  "Me," Bob said.

  "I'll relieve you," Dave said, "just get me up when you get tired."

  "That should see us through the night," Gary said. "...I think it's best if we all sleep in here tonight, and on this side, behind the trucks. It might be a bit crowded, but I don't want to take any chances." Gary finished, picked up his rifle, and headed towards the glass enclosed front of the gas station, and the small group began to break apart. Jessie spoke up, after most of the others had drifted away.

  "Frank?"

  "Ssh," he said, as he put a finger over her lips, "no need." He led her away and they pushed two sleeping bags together in front of one of the Jeeps.

  "Frank?" she said, "I just need to be held."

  "I know," he said quietly. "I need to hold you." He took her into his arms and held her as he tried to push the thoughts that wanted to crowd his mind away. Jessie slipped off to sleep quickly, but sleep eluded Frank. He lay quietly thinking, still holding her, until he drifted off to sleep himself much later.

  He was still holding her when he awoke the next morning. Jessie awoke a few minutes after he did. She kissed him softly, and said, "Thank you for not being like every other man I've met in my life. I could love you, Frank, you know that?"

  Frank kissed her back, and then she left to help some of the others make something for breakfast. Gary wandered over, his eyes bloodshot, a rifle slung across his shoulder.

  "Did you see anything last night, Gary," Frank asked?

  "Zip. I stayed up all night myself. Whoever or whatever... They didn't come back."

  "I thought you were going to switch off with Bob. You should have woken me up" Frank said.

  "Was gonna switch off, but... I don't know, Frank, there's somethin' strange with Bob. It seems like he's walking around with his head stuck halfway up his ass. I ain't so sure he's gonna make it," Gary finished in a near whisper.

  "It happens, some people can't take it when things get flaky, Gary. Still, you should have woken me up."

  "Well, it doesn’t matter now," Gary said grinning. "Besides, it looked like Jessie needed you. Looked like you needed her too," he finished quietly.

  "I think we all need each other," Frank answered, "Bob will come around."

  Once everyone had eaten they packed up the Jeeps; unlocked the garage doors, and backed out into the already hot morning air. They drove slowly through the intersection and headed into the city of Rochester.

  Jeremiah Edison

  Jeremiah came awake with sunlight streaming in through the windshield of the small car. He recalled waking in the night, but could not recall why. The memory left him feeling somewhat uneasy, especially since he could not recall the why of it. Most probably, he thought, just the strangeness of the surroundings he found himself in.

  The vines had advanced while he had slept, and now almost completely covered the roadway. They were much thicker too, he realized, and small green shoots were continuing to grow out of the twisted,wooden-looking vines winding away towards the west. Broad dark-green leaves sprouted from the vines in countless numbers, and if it had not been for the opening the road cut through the trees, Jeremiah thought, the sun would not have peeked down from the sky to awaken him. The vines were that dense.

  Telephone and power poles were swallowed whole by the vines, and they crept across the wires from one side to the other of the road. In many places the wires had succumbed to the weight of the vines and fallen, but in others they had traversed the lines and established a firm grasp on either side, supporting their own weight. Jeremiah turned his attention away from the endless vines and back to the interior of the small car.

  A small white-plastic key fob dangled from the ignition switch. Jeremiah pumped the gas pedal twice, and then reached forward and turned the key. The car turned over slowly, but eventually caught and sputtered to life. A blare of static pealed forth from the radio, and he fumbled with the controls until he managed to turn it off. He looked around the interior of the car.

  The old blue vinyl seats were ripped and stained. The Honda insignia, although cracked and dirty, was still firmly attached to the peeling and split dashboard. Trash littered the floorboards, and the shifter knob was so worn he could barely make out the pattern imprinted into it. The motor sounded like a small sewing machine, but the choppy uneven idle smoothed out after a few minutes to a low hum. Jeremiah shifted the car into first and pulled from the side of the road bumping over the vines as he went.

  The driving was slow going, but an hour later he reached the outskirts of the city of Oswego. For the last twenty minutes he had been following deep tire tracks that cut around the stalled traffic, and the closer he had gotten to the city the more he had found himself having to slow down and cut around the stalled traffic, following the muddy tracks.

  He knew who had made the tracks, or at least some of the people who had made them. He also knew he was a good day behind them. He had no idea why God had chosen to put him behind them, rather than in front of them, but, he supposed, if God had wanted him to know, he would have told him. He hadn't, so Jeremiah assumed it was simply His will.

  He had given up trying to understand all the whys involved with God, and had instead just accepted what he chose to tell him. He knew only that he would meet Frank Morgan in Rochester, along with some others. What he was supposed to say to him, or what God might want from him, was a different matter, and God had not chosen to tell him.

  He wound slowly through the stalled traffic, going around where he had to, and he was almost into the downtown section when the car became hopelessly mired as he tried to get around several vehicles blocking the road. It had been close before, but the front wheel drive had pulled the small car through despite the churned up ground. This time it was buried up to the undercarriage, and there was no hope of getting the little car out.

  Jeremiah shut it off, and leaving the keys in the switch where he had found them, walked off into the downtown district.

  When he came to the first bridge, he scrambled over the cars as the others had before him, and walked to the second bridge. He saw the same scene that Frank had seen the day before. The bridg
e had collapsed into the river. A large steel service walk that had run beside the bridge, however, was still intact, and he carefully walked across it to the other side.

  He walked slowly down the crowded roadway, and eventually out of the downtown section. It had been eerie to say the least.

  The vines, although not covering the entire city, were beginning to take their toll. Here they were still thin green twists, but they had only been thin green twists last night when he had fallen asleep in the car, he reminded himself. He knew that they would soon strengthen and become the stronger brown wood-like vines which were covering the roadway he had traveled. They hung down from the overhead wires and climbed up the buildings, swallowing everything in their path with their wide green leaves.

  When he reached the other side of the city, he stopped at a used car lot by the side of the road. An older Chevy pickup sat among the line of cars and trucks, and Jeremiah walked over to examine it.

  The four wheel drive truck looked to have been used fairly well. It was dented and rusty, but Jeremiah liked the look of it. He walked around it and looked it over. The tires appeared to be in good shape, and wider than most, as well as being tall and aggressively tread. He looked in the corner of the windshield, noted the stock number, and headed in the direction of a small trailer at the back of the gravel lot. The trailer served as an office, and he knew that if the keys were to be found, that was where he would find them.

  He stepped over the vines as he went, noticing that they were not quite as thick, or abundant, as they had been only a short way back. He hoped the keys would be there and that the truck would start. If not, he supposed, he could cross the street to a new car lot that he had noticed. He would prefer the old Chevy, but if there was no choice he would cross the street and take one of the shiny new pickups that sat on the lot.

  He supposed he would even be better off taking one of the newer vehicles, but he didn't want to. Even the old Chevy was newer than any truck he had ever driven, and all of the newer trucks he had seen, seemed more like cars than real trucks.