Dark Days of the After (Book 5): Dark Days of the Purge

by Schow, Ryan

  “I am the gun,” she said, trying it on. Then: “What about after?”

  “After what?”

  “After all this is over?” she asked. “I don’t want to be like Boone, or how I feel now. How do you take all these nightmares and get rid of them?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “If I ever figure that out, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

  To Felicity, it seemed there was nothing but hard choices to make. Staying with Clay, however, was not one of them. She slept in bed with him, but nothing happened, even though she was starting to see him in a new light. Was he seeing her the same way? She didn’t know.

  When they woke the next morning, he said, “Grab what you need, and don’t plan on coming back.”

  She nodded, even though she didn’t like the sound of that. Then again, she liked that they were going to Roseburg even less.

  When they were ready, they rode to Boone’s place on the quad, picked up him, Rowdy and the Blazer, then headed up to the Madigan’s place to collect the others. They arrived in time to see Ryker standing in the clearing that held Stephani’s bee hives. Ryker was giving her a satellite phone and a contact number.

  “Call when you’re ready to join us,” Ryker said, hugging her as tight as he dared. To Felicity, her injuries were grievous. But it was Stephani’s mood that baffled Felicity the most.

  “You’re all really going right now?” she asked, distraught. Was she really not going with them?

  Orbey took Skylar’s hand and said, “Like Logan said, it’s time to take the fight to them.”

  “They can fight, Mom,” Stephani said one last time. “You don’t have to.”

  “Yes, I do,” the woman said. Orbey had a rifle slung over her back and her traveling clothes on. Stephani was wearing yesterday’s clothes. The swelling on her face had gone down, but the bruising was pretty bad, and the stitches didn’t help her look.

  “Why?” Stephani pleaded.

  “Because your father died fighting,” Orbey said, tension in her voice. “We’re going to die, too, and I want to die fighting them, not sitting back here being afraid of them.”

  “You’re not built for war,” Stephani said, quiet, but not so quiet that everyone else couldn’t hear her. Looking at Skylar, she said, “Please don’t take her from me.”

  “She’s taking herself, Stephani,” Skylar said, straightforward. “Get your stuff, you’re coming with us.”

  She shook her head, then with tears in her eyes, she turned to Orbey and said, “Mom, please, I’m begging you.”

  “The sooner I get to your father,” Orbey replied, tears now standing in her own eyes, “the happier I’ll be.”

  “What does that mean?” Stephani asked, dumbfounded.

  “It means I’m not going to die of old age,” Orbey said, cupping her daughter’s cheek. “I don’t think any of us are.”

  Stephani covered her hand with her own and said, “Don’t you want to rebuild?”

  Orbey shook her head. “I thought about it. But it’ll never be what it once was. In another life, perhaps, but not this one. It’s time to say good-bye and move on, otherwise we’ll only dwell in the past, and that’s not healthy.”

  “If we stop moving, we’ll die,” Skylar said to Stephani. Skylar took her cousin’s hand, but Stephani shook it off, looking offended.

  “What the hell happened to you?” Stephani barked at Skylar.

  “I picked a side,” Skylar said calmly. “I pledged my life for this country.”

  Ryker said, “We all have, whether we know it or not. The only question is what will you risk for the return of your freedoms?”

  “Haven’t we risked enough?”

  “We’re all soldiers now, even if you do it here, alone,” Ryker said. “You’re just on leave. Eventually you’ll have to fight again, succumb to fear, or lay down and die.”

  “If after all this is done, if you decide to rebuild,” Harper said, “we will help, but not until the scourge is stopped. That’s the only way we’ll ever really be safe.”

  Stephani folded her arms, every bit as resolute as Orbey. But it was time to go. When she watched her friends and her family leave, Felicity knew it was with a terrible sadness in her heart.

  The last thing Felicity saw was Stephani walking up to the bees. She opened her hands, and closed her eyes. They came almost instantaneously, swarming around her, landing on her. Felicity watched this in awe.

  In her heart, she knew she’d never see the woman again.

  Boone said that Otto once joked about them being the Five Falls Militia. The name Otto chose for them happened to be the only thing he and Noah really ever agreed upon. Now, with everything happening, with all the sacrifices they made, the name carried new meaning. Everyone owned it not only in the honor of the fallen, but in the name of unity, force, and violent opposition to invading armies. The 5FM, as Harper called them, packed up what they could and met the others in the park, all of them ready to leave behind those who wanted to stay—or those who were too scared to leave. As it happened, only a few showed up and most of them looked like they were going to be targets more than the mercenaries they needed.

  “So it looks like it’s just us then,” Harper said.

  “Are you surprised?” Logan asked.

  “We’ve got barely enough gas to get to Roseburg if we split things evenly,” Skylar said. “But there’s no way we’re getting to Yale on what we have.” The vehicles were sure to be bogged down by bodies, weapons and supplies. Enough to really tax their engines.

  Clay nodded and said, “You’re right.”

  The problem was, they’d tapped the town’s reserves, and now it wasn’t enough. Even Felicity could see that. When they considered the troop transport, the Jeeps, and the number of men and women going with them, even a blind man could see they were five cowboys with two horses, so to speak. Felicity stood there, watching them work it out. She had an idea, but the last time she spoke up, she was shut down and ejected from the meeting. So this time she held her tongue.

  “Most of the gas is soon to become bad gas,” Ryker said. “But that doesn’t mean we’re taking the Heel-Toe Express to war. It just means we need to win this war then get back home before travel in gas powered vehicles becomes a thing of the past.”

  Felicity’s eyes moved from one of them to the next, taking a little more time for Longwei, Barde, Jin and Ning. They were an interesting group. They’d obviously been through their own tussles together. Her eyes landed back on Skylar, and Harper—two women she admired greatly, two women who terrified her, and in all likelihood, didn’t want her around.

  They stood there like warriors, blood stained and battle tested, both of them ferocious enough to pull out your heart and take a bite, just to get that little bit of your soul, that part that would make them stronger, more vicious, immortal. But they stood there with no ideas. No one had any ideas. How ironic.

  Before all this, Felicity lived a sheltered life. She was a college girl. And pretty. She paid to get her nails done, she wore hair extensions, fake eyelashes, and she laughed a little louder around boys she liked. She had friends, went to parties, drank and had “a life.” But not anymore. What she dreamed of back then was a good husband, a provider, a protector. Now she wanted what Skylar and Harper had. She wanted scars like Clay. She wanted to be quiet like Logan until it was time to pull someone’s freaking heart out. Forced to grow up fast, she craved their strength, their stamina, their hardened hearts. She wasn’t like them, though. She’d trained for a few months with her father. But she had no bow, no arrows, no parents, no home. Were these people her home? Clay, yes. But these savages? No. They were enraged vigilantes trying to get enough gas to take them to their deaths. And she was just stupid enough to maybe want to go with them. Clay came walking up with two more cans of gas, his biceps bulging, his shoulders big, rounded.

  “This might insure our trip to Roseburg,” he said. “But it may not either.”

  Skylar shook her head, loo
ked down, then sideways at Ryker.

  “I might know a guy,” Felicity said before she had a chance to stop herself. All eyes fell on her. She swallowed hard, then said, “I don’t think he’s all there, mentally. But this is the kind of thing he does.”

  “What do you mean, ‘this is the kind of thing he does?’” Harper asked.

  “Hillbilly stuff.”

  “You mean he’s a survivalist?” Boone asked.

  Felicity nodded her head and said, “He’s more like former military, but with a few screws loose. You know, he’s coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs? He’s got a couple of boys, too. Trouble makers.”

  “Trouble makers?” Skylar asked, almost like she was tired of the suburban lingo.

  Felicity drew a breath and stood up straight. Turning her head to face Skylar, she was once thrilled to meet the woman. Now, under the current circumstances, she was one notch above petrified. The stories told about this woman were legendary. At first she didn’t think they could be true, but then she met Skylar Madigan and she knew they were. But Skylar wasn’t the only legend there. As she stood perched above the battle they’d fought on the interstate a couple of days back, she saw them in action and they were fearless, untiring. Most of them were hurt, shot and beaten up, but they went on, they forged ahead despite the odds. And they did so without makeup, fake eyelashes, pretty hair, social lives.

  “It started in grade school,” she heard herself say. “The younger brother, Sludge—that’s what we called him on account of him shitting his pants in fourth grade—got suspended for lifting the skirts of some of the girls in our class.”

  “So?” Harper said.

  “So he did it for his older brother, Blane. At least that’s what he said. I think they both just really wanted to see girls’ underwear. That’s the kind of boys they were. And if you want to know about their dad, well, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.”

  Logan was looking at Ryker, who was looking at Clay like, what the hell?

  “What are they like now?” Skylar asked.

  “They’re like Duck Dynasty on crack,” Felicity said.

  “The Duck Dynasty from like ten years ago?” Harper asked. “Before Chicom controlled television?”

  “They’re the kinds of morons who fish with homemade firecrackers. And they’re hunters. Once, my friend walked up on them ‘fishing’ and ‘hunting.’ They called it funting. They’d fish, and when they were done, the smaller fish they didn’t want to eat, they’d toss them in the air and pretend like they were skeet shooting, but with their .22 rifles.”

  “What’s the point of this?” Ryker asked.

  “My friend Leila, in seventh grade, was the prettiest girl you’d ever seen,” Felicity pushed on. “Sludge and Blane found her alone after school one day. They tore her skirt off at gun point, then rubbed the fabric on their little peckers, outside the pants, but you get it. That’s how these guys were. How I’m sure they are today.”

  Skylar shook her head in disgust while Harper looked away, obviously envisioning the whole thing.

  She continued. “Sludge and Blane’s father threatened to kill the Sheriff if he didn’t make everything go away.”

  “Did he?” Clay asked. “Did the Sheriff make it all go away?”

  Felicity said, “No, he didn’t. Because of that, the boys drove their daddy’s truck into Leila’s bedroom. She was just coming out of the bathroom when the truck plowed through the wall, hitting the bathroom door so hard it slammed back on her. She was thrown into the side of the tub, she broke her arm and three ribs.”

  “Good God,” Ryker said.

  “They got out of their truck, and then for a few minutes, they just stood there and watched her bleeding and in pain. They said nothing, not touching themselves or anything. They just stood there…watching. That’s how I remember them, how I see them in my head.”

  Logan said, “Did the Chicoms get them?”

  “Probably not,” she said. “If anything, those three idiots got the Chicoms.”

  Harper said, “So what makes you think they have gas we can use?”

  “They worked on cars,” Felicity explained. “Not engines and stuff, more like redneck modifications. Big fins, fat tires, chrome grills. They’ve got generators out there, too. We used to hear them running when we walked home from school. They also made bootleg weapons, but they weren’t good at it. Once Sludge tossed a grenade at the Sheriff’s car, but it didn’t blow up. The Sheriff arrested him. His daddy let him ride out the seventy-two hours in jail then showed how the grenade was never meant to explode, even though I think Sludge might have tried to make it himself and screwed it up.”

  “Meaning it was supposed to explode,” Logan said. She nodded. “And you want to get gas from this guy?”

  “If anyone in town has any, it’s those jackasses.”

  “Surely you have a better idea,” Boone said. He looked around the group, but they were all closed mouths and empty brains.

  “No, I don’t have a better idea,” she said. “But I have some weapons and no reason to spare their lives, so if we take the gas, maybe we can kill them, too. For Leila.”

  Skylar started to smile, and that’s when she said, “I think I might like this girl after all.”

  “One condition, though,” Felicity said. “I get the boys, and you can have their dad.”

  She said this with unfocused eyes, her memories caught up on her friend’s ribs and casted arm. The Chicoms killed Leila early on. She wasn’t the pretty thing she’d been in high school, but she was mouthy and mean enough to say the wrong thing to the wrong person at the wrong time. Shaking her head, she felt it all coming back—that darkness, all that hatred. Like Clay said, she was storing all that animosity for later, fashioning it into a round she’d put through the enemy’s brain when the time was right.

  “What?” Harper asked, seeing that Felicity had gone to some other place in her mind.

  “If they’re alive,” Felicity said, her eyes clearing, “I want to kill them, gas or not. Those three deserve to die.”

  She looked over at Logan, whose expression softened for the first time since she’d known him. A sly grin crept onto his face and he gave her the barest of nods, like he appreciated the idea. In that moment, she wondered if she could be like them. A savage. Maybe one day she’d stand before others like her, scarred and angry, that look in her eye like nothing stood in the way of anything because she was that girl, living that life, being the scary subject of someone else’s legend.

  Chapter Eleven

  Skylar hated the way they left things back in Five Falls. The people who died did so following her lead. Then again, they killed a lot of SAA soldiers in return. Still, they lost half a mile to gain a mile, and it didn’t seem worth it. Looking ahead, she tried to shake off the feelings of failure and instead focused only on the journey ahead. The roads were barren, barely even any birds or wildlife to speak of. The evidence of the SAA and Chicom rampage was everywhere. Aside from the lush scenery, the world was its own picture of abandon. Not charred and vacant like the California wasteland, but…ruined, trampled upon, overgrown with neglect. Two hours after they left Five Falls, they arrived in Roseburg. The tanks were low. So low she wondered if they’d drain the last drop of gas on the gently rolling hills leading to Felicity’s house.

  Taking the lead on this small caravan was the Blazer. Clay was driving, Skylar rode shotgun and Boone, Felicity and Rowdy occupied the rear. Longwei and his three guys manned the convoy’s rear guard, all of them armed sufficiently. Then there was Logan, sandwiched between them, driving with Orbey and much of the survival supplies they’d opted to take with them. Every so often Skylar would check the side view mirror. Seeing the two other vehicles keeping things tight helped her relax. This also had her thinking once again about Logan.

  The Logan she knew today was not the Logan Cahill she took to Krav Maga classes with Instructor Yoav so long ago. He’d since become robust and unrelenting—the kind of hard-edged Resistance f
ighter she’d hoped he would become. But the brightness of his spirit had waned. Not his fighting spirit, his soul. He’d seen too much violence, brought about too much death. Same as me, she thought. Was he as lost as she was? To look at him, she imagined he was.

  “How do you think the others are doing on gas?” Skylar asked Clay.

  “At this point,” Clay said, “I’m pretty sure we’re all trying to squeeze blood from a stone. But since we haven’t heard anything from the Uniden, as far as I know they’re pushing forward on prayers and good luck.”

  She picked up the Uniden, depressed the talk button. “How are you guys on gas?” she asked.

  “Pretty low here,” Longwei said.

  “Same here,” Logan replied. “Just about bone dry.”

  “Felicity tells me we’re not far, but that we’ve got a bit of a climb,” she said. “If you dry out completely, just call.”

  “Roger that,” Logan said.

  “Roger that,” Longwei echoed.

  As they navigated up into the hills, the sights were every bit as breathtaking as those views in Five Falls. Skylar was torn, though. Pulled back and forth between the beauty of the landscape and the concern for both gas and the impending war. By the time they reached Felicity’s house, every single one of them were put-put-putting on fumes.

  Everyone piled out of the vehicles, stretched and waited for Felicity to walk them inside her home. Skylar saw she was reluctant to do so. The ghosts in Felicity’s eyes were haunting. She tried not to feel what the girl must be feeling, but her own ghosts were too big, and they took up too much space in her mind. Felicity tried to pull it off, remaining tightlipped as it were, and strong, but any fool could see she was hurting, sick at heart, and teeming with pain. Her face was pale, her hands balled into fists at her sides, her tortured gaze locked on the house like it was haunted, like the memories she’d discover inside were nothing but sharp edges meant to cut. Perhaps they should have listened and not had her return home. Then Clay put his arm around her, pulled her into a hug and said, “It’s alright, Felicity. This is how we grow strong.”