LAST
CITY
The Last City Series
Book 1
By
Kevin Partner
Mike Kraus
© 2019 Muonic Press Inc
www.muonic.com
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Table of Contents
Prologue
Introduction
1: Hope
2: Ezra
3: Abigail
4: Chief
5: Martha
6: Hiding Place
7: Daddy
8: Sunglasses and Red Cap
9: Supplies
10: Margie
11: Judas
12: SLC
13: Gideon
14: Marianna
15: Clay
16: Blood
17: Carpe Diem
18: Kangaroo Court
19: Hick
20: King of Hope
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Special Thanks
Special thanks to my awesome beta team, without whom this book wouldn’t be nearly as great.
Thank you!
LAST CITY Book 2
Available Here
Prologue
Jason Kelly ran a comb through his dark hair and examined himself in the full-length mirror. Yeah, he looked good. Lean, with blue eyes and a complexion most women would die for, his body was his temple. And tonight, pretty Sam Hickman would be his first worshipper. He had it all planned out.
But you know what they say about the best-laid plans.
He told Alexa to stop, and the staccato chanting of Lil Wayne gave way to the roar of the crowd from the TV in the living room below. It was Super Bowl Sunday and his parents would be engrossed for the next several hours. The perfect opportunity.
"Where you going, Jay?"
He cursed under his breath. Mom had emerged from the kitchen carrying a can of beer as he reached the bottom of the stairs. Looked like his stepfather would be out for the count pretty soon.
"Brandon's. He's got the new Call of Duty."
"Dressed like that?"
He shrugged. "I like to look good, Mom. You know that."
Her eyes narrowed, but she was in no mood for a fight. She never was. "You just be back before curfew. D'you hear me?"
"I hear you." Curfew? He was eighteen! And anyway, she'd be asleep on the couch with that idiot Paul before the 10 pm deadline.
He pulled the door closed behind him without another word, and so he didn't hear her whisper she loved him.
It was the last time she ever said it.
He took the subway to Bay Ridge station and walked the couple of blocks to 72nd Street. It was a classier neighborhood than his—though that wasn't saying much—and he could see the multicolored lights of the game flickering through front windows as he walked along the row of Victorian houses. He pulled his Ralph Lauren jacket tighter as a chill wind blew in off the bay. A winter coat would have been a better choice on this typical February night in Brooklyn, but sacrifices had to be made to secure the prize.
Jason texted her when he was outside the house. He darted into the shadows beneath a threadbare tree, because even though the drapes in the living room window were closed, the old woman could sneak a peek at any moment and then all his plans would be in ruins.
A window on the first floor slid upwards and Sam's face appeared. He stepped out from under the tree and waved up at her. She saw him and giggled. He'd heard that danger was an aphrodisiac, and she sure seemed excited about the prospect of sneaking out of the house while her grandparents watched the game. She gave a thumbs-up and disappeared again.
The plan was a simple one, though it had taken the best part of a month to arrange and he'd worked every extra shift available at the local McDonald's to afford it. Richie had the key to his father's fishing boat and Jay had paid his friend two hundred and fifty dollars to bring it down from New Rochelle so he could take Sam to see Lady Liberty from the water. Richie had promised champagne and soft music on the boombox. If that didn't do it—added to the fact that he looked hot tonight—then Jay couldn't imagine what would. He'd come fully prepared. Tonight would be the night.
She appeared in the doorway, the light flooding down the brick steps to the sidewalk below. A phone began ringing in the house and she froze for a moment before gently closing the door and, pack slung over her shoulder, hurried toward him.
She hugged him, then pulled back and gave him a brief kiss. "Quick, that'll be Dad calling and then she'll go looking for me. Let's get out of here."
Jay nodded and glanced up at the draped window, seeing the shadow within. He could hear the drone of the woman's voice as she spoke on the phone.
Then he heard the figure cry out in surprise.
He barely had time to turn away as the window exploded in a fireball that sent shattered glass raining down on them as they reflexively fell back beneath the tree, landing in the slush.
Fragments pattered into the back of his jacket as he lay on top of Sam, listening, his chest thumping and bile rising in his throat. The stench of burned hair made him cough, and he ran his hand over the back of his head, feeling the plasticky remains of his previously perfect coif. Then, one after another, the houses on both sides of the street erupted like fireworks, and the screaming began.
"No!" he called. Sam had gotten to her feet and was making for the steps. The door she'd come through moments before was wide open, but it was the gaping mouth of hell and beyond it was only flame and death.
Jay caught up to her, and they peered inside, half expecting to see the fire-wreathed form of her grandmother writhing in the bright orange inferno. He dragged her back when the heat became overwhelming and pulled her into an embrace as she sobbed, before moving them to the sidewalk and behind a parked car.
"What's happening?!" she asked helplessly.
Above him the streetlight exploded, sending them diving again as burning plastic showered down. As the streetlights on both sides of the road shattered, Jay peeked out from between his fingers, feeling as though he was inside the biggest firework display in history.
Sam pulled on his arm. "Under there!"
She got to her feet and, as the last of the lights exploded, crawled under a garbage truck. Jay followed her and they watched as the street burned.
"What’s going on, is it an attack?"
"It came from inside the house!"
"They're dead, aren't they?"
He said nothing. They both knew the answer.
The front door of a house across the street opened and a figure emerged, covered in flame. It fell down the steps, arms flailing, and its screams joined the cries and sirens and the roaring of all-engulfing flame.
"That's Mr. Evans," Sam whispered.
They lay there, transfixed, pinned in place by the sheer horror they were witnessing. It was Sam who snapped out of it first. "We gotta get out of here."
Jay crawled out from under the truck and coughed on bitter smoke, trying not to think what it reminded him of. There were people on the streets now, the few who had survived whatever was happening, all standing like they were drugged, unable to process what they were looking at, knowing that the people in the houses were beyond any help. Blue and red lights joined the flickering amber as a pair of police cars turned into the street.
"Thank God," Jay said, grateful to see the cops for the first time in his life.
"I'm gonna ask them what's happened," Sam called out as she started running along the street.
Jay had just caught up to her when the first of the police cars swelled and exploded, throwing itself onto the sidewalk. Moments later, the doors of the second car opened and figures leaped out just ahead of a ball of gas bursting from inside it.
Jay and Sam watched for a moment and then she ran on again, heading for the nearest figure. A second explosion, and the car tore itself apart, spraying liquid flame over the officers and the civilians who'd gone to help them.
They clung to each other again, frozen like rabbits in a headlight beam, standing in the center of the street as hell erupted around them. Jay wiped the tears from his sore eyes and choked on the corrupted air.
"Come on. We can't stay here," he managed. Sam simply nodded and held on to his hand as he led her west toward the shore of the bay where, he hoped, a boat awaited them both.
It only took moments to realize that whatever had happened to 72nd Street hadn't been confined to it. Fire and death were everywhere. They ran along glass-strewn streets, pushing through pathetic little groups of people looking up at houses and tenements that were being gutted by flame.
Bodies lay everywhere, some barely recognizable as human beings, others still writhing and moaning pathetically. The roads were almost completely blocked by burned-out cars and trucks, and they saw no fire service vehicles or ambulances, nor heard the wailing of sirens.
The voice of New York City was the screaming of its citizens and the death rattles of its buildings.
They kept running until Jay could feel a cool breeze blowing in from the bay and guessed they must be nearing the shoreline. A six-story tenement block to their right roared and crackled like an incinerator and Jay glanced up to see a small group screaming from a landing, the staircase they’d sought shelter in blocked at the next level. They were huddled together, hopping from foot to foot as the metal railings heated. They began running up the stairway in desperation, but they hadn’t reached the roof when, with a rumbling that seemed to come out of the earth itself, the wall of the tenement crumbled, and the panicking figures disappeared in a cloud of tumbling masonry.
Jay pushed Sam away and they ran for a side alley to escape the debris.
"Where are we going?" Sam called.
"Memorial Pier. I got a boat there."
Her mouth dropped open. "What? You can't be serious!"
"I mean it. Richie's bringing his dad's boat. I was gonna show you Liberty from the water."
Sam didn't say anything. She just stared at him as they hid from the flames for a few moments. A siren blared in the distance and was then cut off.
"We have to get away." He pulled the cell from his pocket and put it to his ear. His face fell. "I can't get hold of Mom. I'll make sure you're safe, right? Then I'll go find her."
"Oh, Jay, you don't think it's the whole city, do you?"
He shrugged, and they ran from their temporary shelter heading for the shore of the bay.
"What is this?" Sam said as they stood hand in hand looking north at Jersey City and Lower Manhattan. The horizon glowed orange in every direction, but the brightest flames burned among the tower blocks of the city.
Unimaginable devastation, unimaginable death.
"Don't think too much about it. Richie's ready, let's go." It had been the greatest relief of his life to find his friend there when they'd arrived at the pier. Richie had seen the city burning, but he hadn't turned back, and now he was refueling for the return trip.
Jay took Sam by the hand and led her along the ferry jetty to where the fishing boat bobbed in the water. "What's wrong?"
She had stopped before setting foot on the boat. "How do we know it won't explode like all those cars?"
"He's had the engine running the whole time, and it hasn't yet. You saw those cars; they didn't get far. Look, what choice have we got? To wait? What happens when the fire gets here?"
After a moment's thought, she nodded and stepped on board, pulling the cellphone from her pocket. She hadn't seen her father in months, and he was clear across the country in a dead-end town, but, in the midst of chaos, it was him she wanted to speak to. No signal. Maybe an SMS would get through.
Richie was a small, weasel-faced young Latino who'd lived in Jay's shadow since they'd met in their first year of high school. "We gonna have to go straight back, we got no time to see the lady."
Jay slapped his friend on the shoulder. "Yeah, we need to get outta here fast. You gonna drop me at the bridge so I can check on my ma, then get Sam away. Got it?"
Richie nodded sadly and then watched as Jay helped Sam into the little cabin in front of the wheelhouse.
"It stinks in here," Sam said as she settled onto a plastic seat.
"Yeah," Jay said. It was a fishing boat. It stank of fish. Obviously. And it was old, rusty and oily, with an engine so loud you could barely speak over it when it was ticking over. His plan to woo Sam would have failed even if the city hadn't gone up in flames. The engine revved up, causing the boat to rock a little, and they held each other.
A gunshot rang out, slicing through the rattle of the engine. Jay leaped up and ran out of the cabin. A group of figures was jogging along the pier, and one was waving a pistol in their direction.
"You hold on there! We're comin' aboard!"
"Go Richie," Jay said.
"But …"
"Go!"
There were too many of them for the boat and he was pretty certain he'd be tossed into the icy waters of Upper Bay if he let them get on board. He'd watched enough gangster movies to be convinced of that. The boat lurched away from the pier and Jay fell to the deck.
"The rope! I didn't cast it off!"
"You idiot!" Jay roared as he scrambled on all fours, found the cleat and unwound the rope. A shot fizzed in the air over his head and he looked up to see feet pounding along the pier.
With a roar, the water foamed, and the boat pushed away. The leader—a black man in a city suit—stopped at the end of the jetty, his pistol pointing directly at Jay. It shook as he held it and Jay could hear the others shouting at him to shoot. Jay waited for death, but the man finally dropped his arms and Jay could see the tears in his eyes as he watched his route of escape move away. He disappeared into the crowd that had gathered, and Jay turned back to Richie. So much for the movies.
"Jeez, that was close."
Richie trembled as he stood at the wheel.
Jay put his arms around his friend. "It's okay, bro. You did good. Are we heading back to New Rochelle?"
"Yeah," Richie said, pointing at the bright display of his cell. "Google Maps."
Jay grunted and decided not to think any more about it. They were certainly safer out on the water than in the burning city.
BOOM!
He threw himself to the deck as a tower block to the north went up like a malfunctioning rocket, the sonic wave from the explosion drowning out the engine and the cries of wailing from the shore. Twisted steel, glass and flaming debris rained down on the streets below, casting an eerie orange glo
w across the water.
He crawled into the cabin where Sam was curled up in the chair. She put her arms around him as he sat beside her and looked out at the burning city. His mind couldn't grasp the scale of what was happening to New York. It had to be some sort of attack, but from within. And his mom was in the middle of it.
"Look!" Sam pointed up through the cracked Perspex of the roof window. It looked like a meteor had exploded in the sky. Now even the heavens were alight.
"It's a plane!"
As they watched they saw another explosion above them, this one closer. Then another. And another. It was like watching those World War II movies of The Blitz in London. A sky full of flame.
But this was here, this was now, and it was happening to them.
Richie's head appeared in the doorway. "We're comin' up to the bridge. Hey, have you seen all those planes?"
"Yeah," Jay said. He gave Sam a kiss on the cheek and got unsteadily to his feet.
She held out her hand to him. "Don't go."
"I gotta, Sam. I don't care about Paul, but I need to find my mom. See if she's okay. You go with Richie to his dad's place. Message me and I'll come find you."
He left her there without another look. It wouldn't do his street cred any good for her to see how terrified he was. He wanted nothing more than to go with her, but he couldn't leave the city without knowing whether his mom was alive or dead.
The little boat bumped against the jetty. Jay jumped out and ran into Brooklyn Bridge Park, with the bridge silhouetting the orange sky to his left. There was less fire in the park, and he found people sitting in huddles, some of them in clothes that reeked of smoke, a silent shock pervading them all.
As he left the park and headed into the city, he ran into the inferno. There were no people in those fire-ringed streets, just the rumble and crack of the blaze and the shattering of glass. Undeterred, he plunged into the firestorm, wrapping the collar of his once-precious jacket around his face against the heat and smoke, deafened by the death rattle of the city's funeral pyre.
Last City: Book 1 in the Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Survival Series: (The Last City - Book 1) Page 1