Atomic Threat (Book 3): Survive The End

by Bowman, Dave

  Jack held his breath.

  The guard kept running. Somehow, he didn't even look at the ladder. He was so focused on the road ahead that he didn't even stop in the alley.

  The guard's dumb error had bought Jack some time, but he wasn’t yet out of harm's way. Far from it.

  In fact, he didn't even know if this apartment building was empty.

  The room was dark, and at first he couldn't see anything. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he looked around.

  The room had been ransacked, torn apart for anything of value. But it didn't look like anyone was living in the apartment. Oscar's gang hadn't used it as one of their prison rooms.

  Jack moved through the rooms quietly. It was a shabby one-bedroom apartment. Someone had lived in it just a few days ago. Now, that person was either dead or enslaved.

  Jack returned to the window, looking out at the alley below. For several minutes, he didn't see any movement out there.

  Moving quickly, he looked over the weapons he had taken. He reloaded the rifles. He would have liked more ammo, but it would have to do. He adjusted the Glock in its holster, glad to not have to carry a gun in his waistband for a change.

  He spent several nervous minutes pacing around the room and keeping an eye on the alley below.

  The work crew on the next block were still at it, banging around with hand tools. He could hear the guards supervising them, giving them orders.

  He would have to make a move soon. He had to find Brent and Naomi without getting shot.

  And that meant going deeper into the gang’s territory.

  8

  Sunday, 12:41 p.m. - White Rock

  Naomi stood her shovel upright and perched it in a crack in the ground. She leaned against it, shielding her face from the sun for just a moment.

  Nearby, a woman glanced at her. Looking quickly away and back at her own work, the fellow inmate spoke to Naomi under her breath. "Don't let them see you resting, dear."

  Naomi looked over at the nearest guard. Sure enough, the guard had noticed Naomi leaning against her shovel. The guard was headed her way. Naomi quickly drove the tool into the dry earth once more.

  "That's right, 156," the guard hissed. "Don't let me catch you slacking off again."

  Naomi's eyes darted up toward the guard as the woman walked away. The guard was a tall woman in her thirties with black hair and skin so pale it looked like it had never seen the light of day. The woman wore a large sun hat, paired with some kind of uniform that looked like it had once belonged to a park ranger. The other prisoners jokingly called the woman Morticia.

  The prisoners had grown adept at communicating in brief moments while they worked. The women had to speak to each other in little snippets, without looking at each other, and without moving their lips. The guards had forbidden any talking while the prisoners were out of their rooms.

  Naomi was being kept prisoner along with hundreds of other women. She hadn't seen Jack or Brent since those people had separated them at the headquarters.

  Naomi remembered how terrible that first day had been. She had been taken through the town, past several blocks, to the women's dormitory. The women were kept in a budget motel. The female guards had led Naomi to a room on the second floor and locked her in there alone. Naomi sat there in the dark for a couple hours, on a bed that had already been slept in.

  Naomi sat there despairing. What had they done to Jack as punishment after he’d called the leader, Oscar, a coward? Had they killed him? Was Brent still alive?

  How had her life so completely deteriorated in under a week?

  Finally, a female guard unlocked the door.

  "Time to work, 156!" the woman barked.

  Naomi looked up at the woman, who clutched a shotgun in her muscled arms. The woman had dyed her hair green, and she sneered at Naomi in disgust.

  "You're too scrawny to do much work, but I bet you can learn to dig a hole," she spat.

  Naomi felt tears brimming in her eyes. So these people had captured her and the only two people Naomi had left in the world – and they were going to force them to work?

  Naomi felt herself sinking into a dark hole. She was trapped in a nightmare, and she didn't know how to wake up.

  There was no escape from these people, and no one was coming to rescue her. Jack was probably dead, or would be soon, judging from the gang leaders’ reaction when Jack had defied them. And Brent was sweet, but not exactly the rescuer type. It was hopeless. And she had lost her mother, the most important person in her life. What did she even have to live for anymore?

  Naomi decided to just give up.

  She didn't want to work for these people. She didn't want to further their cause. They would kill her eventually, anyway.

  Naomi closed her eyes and waited.

  "Are you deaf? I said it's time to work!" the guard said, raising her voice.

  Naomi didn't respond.

  The guard was losing her patience. She crossed the room in long strides and stood before Naomi. She grabbed Naomi's chin and lifted it upward.

  "What's the matter with you, 156? You just gonna sit here crying all day? I'll give you something to cry about!"

  Naomi braced herself. A moment later, she felt the woman's hand strike her face.

  "Get up!" the guard screamed.

  Naomi slumped over, letting her body go limp.

  The guard shifted the shotgun to her left arm. With her free hand, she grabbed Naomi under her arm and pulled her off the bed. Naomi felt her body crash to the floor. She cringed from the impact on her bottom and hip.

  "Around here, we all have to work! This is what happens when you don't work!" the guard roared. She kicked Naomi in the gut. Naomi curled up, groaning in agony.

  The guard grabbed Naomi by her hair and lifted her head off the floor. "You lie there and think about what you're going to do," the woman said. "I'll be back to see what you've decided."

  The woman gave her one final slap across her face, harder this time, and let her head hit the carpet before she turned and left the room.

  Naomi lay there for a long time.

  Her stomach was aching from the guard’s kick, and Naomi’s face and backside hurt as well. But what else could she do? She didn’t want to spend the rest of her days helping these evil people build an empire. She couldn’t fight them, and she had lost hope that there was anyone left who could save her.

  She would just let them beat her to death.

  Finally, she heard the door open. She swallowed the lump in her throat and felt tears spill from her eyes again.

  This would be the end.

  It wasn't the green-haired guard standing in the doorway this time. It was a guard with black hair.

  I guess they sent someone else to finish the job, Naomi thought to herself as she lifted her head off the floor and watched the new guard step inside the room.

  But there was another woman behind her. A middle-aged woman with short brown hair walked inside. She was sweaty, and her skin was sunburned. Naomi could tell from her body language that she was another prisoner.

  This new woman walked inside and sat on the second bed, looking down at Naomi on the floor.

  The guard slammed the door shut and walked with heavy boots across the room. Naomi stared at the boots inches from her eyes.

  "You ready to work now, 156?"

  Naomi looked up at the guard who frowned down at her and clutched a big rifle. Then Naomi closed her eyes. Maybe they would shoot her instead of beating her this time. Then it would be over faster.

  Naomi felt a heavy boot slam into her belly again.

  "What the hell's wrong with you?" the woman asked in an amused voice. "You want to just go out like this?"

  She kicked her in the knees this time. Naomi whimpered in pain. With her eyes closed, Naomi heard the woman lift her rifle up in the air, preparing to bring it down against her head. Naomi cringed, waiting for the final blow to take her life.

  "No, stop!" a new voice rang out.


  Naomi gritted her teeth, waiting for the new pain to come anyway.

  "Don't hit her anymore! Let me talk to her. I can make her work!"

  Naomi opened her eyes to see the other prisoner, who was standing now, pleading with the guard.

  "You need more workers for the latrine project! I can get her to work for you!"

  The guard looked at the older prisoner, then down at Naomi in disgust.

  "Fine. You've got a half-hour," the guard said. Then she spun on her heels and left the room, locking the door behind her.

  The older woman knelt at Naomi's side and lightly touched her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

  Naomi stared at her. "Why did you do that?"

  The woman didn’t answer.

  "I wanted her to kill me," Naomi said, her voice shaking. "I'm not going to be a prisoner here!"

  The woman brushed Naomi's long brown hair out of her face, then rested her hand on her shoulder. Somehow, the woman's touch made Naomi feel a sense of relief. She began to weep where she lay on the floor.

  "It's all right," the woman said, patting her hand. She reached over toward her bed and produced a small towel. The woman pressed it against Naomi's forehead. Naomi hadn't realized it, but she was bleeding from where the first guard had hit her.

  "My name's Joanne. What's yours?"

  "Naomi."

  Joanne helped her to sit up, then looked at the wound on her forehead.

  "I think it's stopped bleeding. Are you hurt anywhere else? Is your stomach okay?"

  Naomi groaned as she moved. "I'm hurt all over. But I'm going to live, unfortunately. At least for now."

  Joanne tsked. "No, you can't let them keep hitting you. You have to stay alive, Naomi."

  Naomi sighed. "Why? So I can be their slave until they decide to kill all of us?”

  "No," Joanne said as she sat on the floor beside Naomi. "You work for them so you can stay alive. But it won't be forever. We'll find a way to get to someplace safe."

  Naomi shook her head. "There's no way out of here! They've got guards all over the place. How do you expect to make it out of here in one piece?"

  "I don't know that yet. I just know that if we do what they say –"

  "You mean work for these monsters?" Naomi shook her head bitterly. "What's the point of that? What kind of life is that?"

  "If we do what they say and don't give them any trouble," Joanne continued patiently, "we can come up with a plan. We can watch them, find their weaknesses."

  Naomi scoffed.

  "Everyone's got a weakness. We just don't know what theirs is yet," Joanne said. "It might take some time, but I know we can find a way out of here."

  Naomi shook her head. "I'm not so optimistic. I've already lost everything that matters. So I don't want to keep on fighting." She wiped away the tears rolling down her cheeks. "I don't have anything to live for anymore."

  Joanne took her hand and held it in her own. "As long as you're alive, there's hope. You have to keep on living, no matter what you lost."

  Naomi frowned. "It's not what I lost, but who. When you lose the most important person in your life, it's hard to go on fighting."

  Joanne was quiet for a moment. Finally, she sighed. "I know it is. But it's what they would have wanted us to do."

  Naomi looked at her. "Did you lose someone too?"

  "My daughter," Joanne said, looking away. "She had just turned seventeen last week. And now…"

  Her voice broke, and she stopped.

  "I'm so sorry," Naomi said. "Was it… them?"

  Joanne nodded. "In our own house. We were trying to get away from them. Maddie was climbing out her bedroom window, and they – they shot her. My poor baby! I still can't believe she's gone."

  Joanne shook her head sadly, staring off into the distance. Naomi felt her own pain surge as the two sat in silence. Finally, Joanne sniffed and looked at her.

  "Who did you lose?"

  "My mother," Naomi whispered.

  Joanne pulled Naomi close, and they were quiet for a while.

  "Your mother would have wanted you to live, Naomi," Joanne said. "And Maddie wouldn't want me to just give up, either. We have to do it for them."

  Before Naomi could answer, the sound of a key in the doorknob startled them. Joanne got up and sat on her own bed just before the dark-haired guard appeared.

  The guard entered the room and looked at Naomi expectantly.

  "What's it going to be, 156?"

  Naomi glanced at Joanne, then up at the guard. She drew a breath.

  "I'll work."

  "Good choice," the guard said, then ushered the women out the door with a sharp motion of her rifle.

  That afternoon, Naomi had begun work digging a latrine with the other women. She quickly got into the routine of the operation, and learned never to talk during worktime.

  She glanced over at Joanne, digging at the dry earth nearby. If it hadn't been for her new friend, Naomi would have already been dead.

  She still wasn't convinced they would find a way out. But Joanne had convinced her to not give up hope just yet. Still, though, Naomi knew she couldn't do this indefinitely. She didn't have it in her. She'd either have to find a way to freedom, or die trying.

  9

  The man wrapped his arms around Annie, and pulled her down. She hit the ground hard.

  "Get the hell away from me!" she yelled at him.

  Annie elbowed him in his chest with all her might. She pulled herself away a few inches, getting some traction on the cedar log nearby.

  He grabbed at her legs. She kicked him in the face, but not hard enough. He pulled at her legs, causing her to slip in the mud and fall to the ground again.

  "I'm not going to hurt you!" he said in a pleading voice. "I just want a friend!"

  The way he said the word friend made Annie shudder. He was either insane or as high as a kite.

  They struggled a bit more. Finally, she got her arm free and elbowed him in the eye.

  He recoiled, his hands flying to his face.

  He looked at her with an expression of shock and surprise, then he turned and ran inside the house.

  "You'll pay for this!" he yelled just before slamming the door shut.

  Annie scrambled to her feet. Judging from his dilated pupils and the erratic way he moved, the guy was clearly strung out on drugs. She didn't want to wait around and see how he would make her pay.

  She ran toward the driveway. But something caught her eye – a stable. It was behind and to the left of the house.

  She looked back at the house. The man could emerge any moment with a gun. She knew it was a risk. Maybe it was even stupid. But she had to do it.

  She took off running toward the stable. As she got closer, she heard movement inside the structure.

  Inside the stall was a beautiful, chestnut American Quarter Horse.

  Annie felt her heart leap for joy. She stepped inside the stable and approached the animal.

  "It's okay, it's okay," she murmured soothingly to the horse. "Do you want to go for a ride?"

  The horse snorted and stepped toward the gate. Annie looked at the horse – a mare. She seemed tame and gentle. Annie stroked her nose, and the horse seemed glad for the company.

  Annie looked back at the house. Still no sign of the man.

  She grabbed the saddle from the hook on the wall and, leaning over the gate, positioned it on the horse.

  “How’s that?” Annie whispered. She hoped she was doing this right, but she didn’t have much time to make sure.

  She spun around, looking through the stable, and her eyes landed on some ropes and a harness.

  Bingo.

  Then she opened the gate. The horse, already fully accepting of Annie’s presence, waited patiently for her commands.

  She mounted the horse, then clicked her tongue. The horse took off at a slow trot and left the stable.

  Annie urged the horse faster with her legs, and the horse picked up speed.

  They covered the distance i
n front of the house at a gallop. Annie looked back at the house. The man didn't appear in the door, but she heard a crashing noise from within the home.

  Annie felt the panic rise up inside. Was he coming after her now that she was escaping with the horse?

  She urged the mare faster, squeezing her legs around the horse’s trunk, and holding on tight. She looked over her shoulder, watching for the man to emerge.

  But the horse carried her all the way to the highway, kicking up dust behind them.

  And he still hadn’t reappeared.

  Once they were on the highway again, Annie felt she could breathe a little. Looking down at her hands, she saw she was shaking. She took a deep breath. She was still alive.

  “Good girl,” she said, patting the horse’s shiny brown coat. “You’re going to save us.”

  The horse seemed to enjoy the ride. She, like Annie, had been yearning to move. She carried Annie up and over the hill. Annie got one last look at the house below before it was out of sight.

  “Hang on, Charlotte,” Annie muttered under her breath. “Almost there.”

  Halfway up the next hill, gunshots rang out across the countryside. Annie felt herself freeze up inside, even though the sun was warming up the area. Her mouth was suddenly dry as her heart sped up in her chest.

  The gunfire had come from the east, and it could have easily come from Dan’s .22.

  10

  Charlotte shifted in her seat, mindful of the bullet wounds.

  She still couldn't believe she was alive.

  At least something had gone right in the disaster that had been the past few days. Annie had kept her from bleeding to death.

  But now, Charlotte had something new to worry about.

  Annie had been gone too long.

  Charlotte watched the sun rise higher in the sky. Each minute that Annie was gone, Charlotte's uneasiness grew. There were a million things that could go wrong. And since the attacks on Austin, everything that could go wrong, did.

  What would Charlotte do if Annie never returned? She couldn't go looking for her friend – not in her current state. Her throat started to tighten as she thought of all the possibilities. She was afraid for Annie – and herself. And Charlotte was the only one with a weapon.