Atomic Threat (Book 3): Survive The End

by Bowman, Dave

  If they were anything, the guards were organized. They demanded order and tidiness from the prisoners at all times. They ran a tight ship, and their intolerance for any deviation from orders seemed to be a tool they wielded. The guards expected total obedience, and anything less was viewed as insubordination and would be punished.

  A loud noise from outside startled the women, making Naomi jump and nearly drop the plate. A wave of relief washed over her when she caught the dish in time. After all, breaking something would result in a beating.

  But what was that noise? Was it a gunshot?

  Several more loud bangs made their way through the dark kitchen, then the noise grew louder.

  Naomi and Joanne looked at each other, then around the kitchen at the dozen or so other female inmates. They stared at each other silently as if to ask the same question.

  What was going on out there?

  "Back to work!" Morticia hissed, glaring at them. "Do you think I wanna stand around here all night while you silly girls make eyes at each other?"

  The women returned to their labor, keeping their eyes down. But outside, the noise increased in volume all at once.

  It was definitely the sound of guns. Rifles, probably.

  And every moment, there seemed to be more guns firing. Naomi felt her heart pick up its pace as she listened. It sounded like a war zone outside.

  It was hard to discern where the noise was coming from because of its echo through the hills. But the roar of the gunfire was so deafening that it couldn't have been very far away.

  Naomi stood frozen, listening. She met Joanne's eyes, and they both stared at each other in disbelief.

  "Get back to work, now!" Morticia yelled, breaking herself out of her own trance as she listened. Naomi could hear the rising frantic edge in the guard’s voice.

  Outside, the battle raged on.

  She felt a small, stubborn bit of hope deep within herself. Something big was happening out there.

  But a sudden blow against her ribs knocked all the optimism out of her. The guard had suddenly elbowed her in the back. Naomi felt the wind forced out of her chest.

  "Don't let me catch you slacking off again," Morticia screamed at Naomi inches from her ear.

  Naomi hurried to resume washing the dishes, disgusted by her own cowardice. If she had been brave, she would be able to stand up to that guard. She remembered how she had stoically faced the guard’s abuse before. But now, after carrying the scars and bruises, she was afraid. Now, when push came to shove, she would do anything to avoid provoking their violence.

  "Are you okay?" Joanne muttered under her breath when the guard had turned away.

  Naomi nodded her head as the pain washed over her. The sooner they finished, the sooner they could take refuge in their own rooms.

  She darted her eyes over at Brooke, who was drying a chef's knife with a dish towel. Brooke seemed on edge like the rest of them, and she snuck furtive glances at the guards supervising the women's work.

  Suddenly, a wailing noise from outside filled the air.

  Again, the women in the kitchen stopped their work and looked at each other. Naomi caught a glimpse of fear on Morticia's face.

  It took Naomi a moment to realize what the this new wailing sound was. It was the sound of women screaming at the top of their lungs.

  The prisoners were escaping.

  The sound came from the big hotel several blocks away. Naomi had seen the hotel earlier that day, from a distance. It was another female prison.

  Could it really be happening?

  The voices rose in intensity, some of them growing louder as the women ran in every direction through the neighborhood.

  Yes, it was true. The women were rebelling.

  Naomi looked down at the plate she was holding. Her hands were shaking so much that she nearly dropped it. Placing it in the sink, she snuck a glance at the scene nearby to her left.

  In an erratic frenzy, Morticia lunged at Brooke, who was carefully drying a sharp knife.

  "Give those to me!" Morticia screamed.

  The guard snatched up the case of knives from the table. She grabbed the chef's knife from Brooke’s hands. Brooke watched in surprise and fear. Morticia worked furiously to pack the blades away in the folding wooden case.

  Meanwhile, Naomi heard bits of murmured communication among the women in the room as they stared, wide-eyed, at each other.

  "We have to do something," Joanne said under her breath to Naomi.

  "Keep quiet!" another guard roared, stepping toward the middle of the room. "I don't want to hear another peep out of any of you!"

  "Get them to their rooms!" a third guard called angrily from the back of the kitchen.

  Two of the guards reached for the nearest prisoners and began snapping handcuffs around their wrists. One woman was cuffed to the stove while the guard moved on to the next prisoner.

  Nearby, Morticia slammed the case shut and stashed it in a high cabinet. She moved to fit the padlock around the chain and secure the cabinet. She strained to reach overhead as she positioned the chain.

  Just then, a prisoner lunged at the guard, bringing a heavy skillet down against Morticia’s head.

  And that was when Naomi lost track of what was happening.

  Confusion was breaking out all around her. Morticia stumbled forward, grabbing hold of the counter’s edge to keep her balance. Her attacker reached toward the cabinet where the knives were stashed. Several women screamed in the room as a guard drew her handgun.

  “Get down!” Joanne screamed.

  Joanne ducked down by the sink, pulling Naomi to the floor with her.

  An enormous bang filled the room. Naomi felt her heart lurch as she and Joanne crouched as low they could.

  Just a few feet away, the woman who had attacked Morticia gasped. A moment later, she fell to the floor. Her body hit the tiles with a thud. The dead woman’s eyes stared lifelessly in Naomi’s direction.

  Naomi felt paralyzed as she looked around the room in confusion. Some of the prisoners were struggling with the guards, trying to wrench their guns out of their hands. One prisoner grabbed a guard’s rifle just before the guard could shoot her with it. The prisoner ripped it out of her hands and bashed the guard’s head.

  A moment later, that prisoner was shot dead by a third guard. Meanwhile, another guard was handcuffing the prisoners, one by one. The guard was headed toward the four women at the big sink nearby.

  Naomi looked up at Morticia. She was hanging on to consciousness by a thin thread, and she fell to her knees. She wavered unsteadily, then slumped down to the floor.

  Joanne looked at Naomi.

  “Now’s our chance,” Joanne whispered. “We have to get out of here before they send more guards in.”

  She began to crawl along the floor toward Morticia. Looking around her to make sure no guards were watching, she silently reached for her rifle. Joanne clumsily held the firearm and rose to her feet, still crouching and unsure what to do with the gun at first. But she quickly found her bearings, and pointed the gun toward the guard nearby.

  Across the room, the fourth guard scanned the room. Any moment now, she would notice Joanne's movements.

  "Wait!" Naomi whispered to Joanne.

  But Joanne had already lifted the rifle and was aiming at the nearest guard.

  Joanne pulled the trigger long and hard, showering the guard with bullets. That guard fell to the floor.

  The prisoners nearby screamed and ducked.

  The fourth guard pivoted toward Joanne.

  "No!" Naomi screamed.

  Before Joanne could turn toward the final guard, another round of bullets tore through the room.

  Joanne's body jumped and twitched. The rifle clattered to the floor.

  Naomi stared at her in disbelief. She didn't notice as the final guard stomped across the room and snatched up the rifle.

  She only stared at her friend. Joanne was still alive, but only barely. She stared upward. Naomi moved to the
older woman’s side.

  "Please hold on," Naomi said. "Don't leave me!"

  Joanne's lips were moving. Naomi brought her ear close to her mouth so she could hear her faint whisper.

  "You have to run," Joanne whispered. "Get free."

  Naomi shook her head. Her mind raced. She had to do something.

  "No, Joanne. Don't talk like that, okay? You're going to make it."

  She began to apply pressure to one of the holes in Joanne's body. The blood spurted out over her hands. She moved frantically, unsure of what to do to save her friend.

  Finally, she looked at Joanne's face. Her eyes were unblinking and glassy.

  She was gone.

  Naomi felt herself go numb. The sights and sounds of the chaos both inside and outside of that kitchen fell away. There was commotion erupting all around her, but she paid it no attention.

  She only stared at Joanne's face, the face of the woman who had meant so much to her, who had saved her life.

  Naomi had found a stand-in for her own mother in Joanne, and Naomi had been a reminder to Joanne of the daughter she had lost. This woman's kindness had been the only thing that kept Naomi fighting to stay alive, the only reason she had to stay alive.

  Now all that was lost.

  She became aware of a voice shouting at her. There was someone standing nearby, demanding Naomi do something. Naomi could hear the brutality in the voice, the willingness to end Naomi's life without a second thought.

  But Naomi felt no concern. Why should she?

  She felt herself leave her own body and begin to watch the scene from above. She saw herself huddled over Joanne's lifeless form, and the guard screaming at her.

  She hoped it would all be over soon.

  28

  Charlotte watched as Annie tore out of the tiny little town.

  "Annie, are you okay?" Charlotte asked nervously.

  Annie didn't answer. She gripped the steering wheel tightly and leaned forward in her seat.

  She felt her chest tighten and constrict, forcing her to take shallow breaths.

  Why was Loretta empty? What if there had been some kind of biological weapon used on the area? Maybe everyone had died in their houses!

  Or maybe that was unrealistic. Maybe something even worse had happened. What if there was someone already at the old Hawthorne house?

  Annie recalled the squatters who had moved in to her own house in Austin, destroying her things and living there as if they owned the place.

  Perhaps people had already moved into the ranch house. It had happened at the house with the horse – a drug addict had murdered the inhabitants and moved in!

  If Annie and Charlotte drove up to the ranch house, they were liable to get ambushed.

  Then the darkest thought of all crossed Annie's mind.

  Suppose Jack had found a way to the ranch house and arrived earlier, only to be murdered in his sleep by thieves scavenging for anything of value?

  Annie's throat went dry and her jaw ached with tension. Could it really be possible? Could Jack already be dead?

  "Annie!" Charlotte said, breaking her thoughts momentarily. "I'm worried about you! Talk to me, please."

  "I'm okay," Annie said. "Just a little nervous about the house. I've got a bad feeling about it."

  Charlotte watched as Annie swerved around an abandoned car in the middle of the road.

  "Well, could you slow down?" Charlotte asked, bracing herself in her seat. "You're not a NASCAR driver."

  "Sorry," Annie said as she eased up on the gas pedal a bit. "I just want to get there already."

  "I do too, but I want to get there in one piece." Charlotte glanced at Annie's face, which was rapidly turning bright red. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

  "I'm worried about someone being in the house," Annie blurted out. "Someone who doesn't belong where."

  Charlotte nodded. "I can understand that, especially after your run-in with that drug addict back there. Do you want to discuss strategy?"

  Annie shook her head. "No strategy."

  "Well, I think you can at least take a few deep breaths. You look like you're about to hyperventilate."

  Annie tried to draw a slow breath to fill her lungs, but it ended up being more of a gasp. She clenched the steering wheel harder. The scenery was flying past, all blending together in one indistinguishable blur. The visual imagery speeding by reminded her of the confusion of the past few days.

  Where would she and Charlotte go if the Hawthorne house was filled with squatters? She had already lost her Austin house – not that she wanted to return to the city now, with its gun battles, fires, and looting. Not to mention all the people who would try to steal the Porsche.

  But still, where was home now? Even if the ranch house were empty, even if it was relatively safe, how would they survive? Annie didn't know how to grow all her own food. Winter was around the corner, which meant the growing season would be coming to an end soon. What would they eat and drink?

  There were so many unanswered questions. So many ways it all could go wrong. She and Charlotte would be two women alone in an isolated property. They would be so easy to rob, attack, or kill.

  She had lost control of her life in ways she had never imagined. She didn't know if her husband was alive or dead. She didn't know about her family. Maybe she would never see any of them again. Even with the Porsche, how would she find Jack? And how could she ever drive all the way out to Tennessee or Virginia to find her family? Everything was so dangerous now. She would never make it out east. It had been so hard just covering the two hundred miles between Austin and Loretta. She would be killed before she could get halfway across Texas.

  And it wasn't just her life she had lost control of – she had lost sight of the entire world. She didn't know what to think anymore. There was nothing left to trust in. It was almost like she could no longer trust reality itself.

  She was feeling dizzy. She was losing sense of which way was up. She just knew that it was becoming more and more difficult to breathe, and everything was coming at her faster.

  "Annie! You're going too fast again!" Charlotte shouted, alarmed at Annie's speed.

  But Annie didn't hear her.

  She just kept driving. She had to get there. She had to find out for herself if the house was empty.

  "Annie, stop!" Charlotte pleaded. "Let me drive. You're freaking me out."

  "I have to see the house," Annie muttered. "We're almost there. Just one more mile."

  Charlotte groaned and covered her eyes with her hands, not wanting to see the reckless way Annie was driving.

  Annie weighed her options. When they got there, should she pull into the long driveway, or park on the highway and walk in? If she drove close to the house, they might be trapped if there were squatters inside. And a confrontation would likely be deadly.

  If she parked on the highway, she might have to try to make her way to the house stealthily, without being seen. But then she ran the risk of having the Porsche stolen while she was away from it.

  "Look out!" Charlotte screamed.

  An abandoned SUV in the middle of the road came into view as they scaled the final hill.

  Without thinking, Annie slammed on the brakes and pulled the steering wheel hard to the left. The Porsche swerved and the tires squealed, and Annie tried hard to maintain control.

  Objects flew past in her peripheral vision as Charlotte screamed beside her.

  29

  Naomi was startled by someone's hands grabbing her shoulders and shaking her.

  She blinked, coming out of her dissociative state. She looked at the prisoner's face in front of her, just inches from her own. The woman's mouth was open. She was yelling something at Naomi.

  Finally, the sound of her voice reached Naomi's ears. It was still fuzzy, as if moving through a dream, but Naomi could hear her at last.

  "Go! Run, Naomi! Run!"

  The prisoner let go of Naomi's shoulders and ran out the kitchen door. For a moment,
Naomi looked around. The guard who had been screaming at Naomi before was lying dead at her feet. Someone had shot her.

  A few other bodies lay dead in the kitchen. Prisoners and guards. Naomi did a quick count of the guards. Four of them lay on the floor. Most of the prisoners had already escaped.

  Naomi was all alone in the room.

  Suddenly, she was filled with an urgent fear. At any moment, more guards could enter the room and drag Naomi off someplace, handcuffed and unable to fight. If Naomi didn't move now, she would be trapped again.

  She pushed open the swinging kitchen doors and looked in the hallway.

  Several female prisoners were running out of rooms and down the stairs. Everyone was headed to the front door. Upstairs, guns were being fired. There were still guards in the motel. Naomi ran into the hallway, following the women running toward the front door.

  As she got closer to the exit, she could hear the sound of several rifles being fired outside the building. She saw women being pelted with bullets as they ran outside the motel.

  What should she do?

  She turned and looked back down the hall. Behind her, a guard was just kicking open a door and emerging. The woman was enraged and screaming at the prisoners. She raised her rifle.

  Naomi felt a wave of panic surge through her. She had two choices, and they both involved running toward an armed, and furious, guard.

  30

  Jack and Brent moved down the stairs of the office building quietly. They didn't want to alert anyone who might be hiding in wait of their presence.

  They emerged from the building cautiously. Jack wanted to move faster, but he fought the urge within himself to break into a run across the street. There was still violence breaking out around the hotel. They would have to move carefully through the area.

  Across the street, a few prisoners charged across the parking lot toward a female guard. The guard opened fire on two of them, killing the women. But the remaining two women hit the guard with shovels. A third prisoner shot the guard.