Atomic Threat (Book 3): Survive The End

by Bowman, Dave

  "No," Jack said, shaking his head. "We made it this far. Let's not press our luck."

  "Good point," Brent said. He remained vigilant as they turned toward the interstate and climbed the on-ramp.

  "Looks like C Block is on fire," Jack said. He glanced down to see the motel that had served as his prison going up in flames.

  "They're burning down a few other buildings, too," Brent said.

  They all looked down toward the city, which was erupting in chaos. Several houses in the upscale residential neighborhood, where the gang's headquarters had been kept, were being consumed by fires. People ran in every direction – some escaping to freedom, and others searching for safety from the fire and the escaped prisoners. A few vehicles drove through the city and headed toward the interstate.

  "So long, White Rock," Naomi said quietly from the backseat.

  The Bronco accelerated quickly as they took one more look at the city. To the left, Jack saw the devastation of the downtown buildings with its blackened piles of rubble. To the right, the gang's operation was rapidly falling apart.

  They drove east on the highway, covering mile after mile until they could see no trace of the city any longer.

  33

  "Please?" Heather asked her brother as she held a bowl of soup toward him. "Can't you eat just a little more?"

  Brody shook his head slightly, refusing the food. "No thanks. I don't think I could keep it down."

  Standing on the other side of the bed, Myra fidgeted nervously. "Oh, is your nausea back?"

  Brody closed his eyes and nodded.

  Heather and Myra exchanged a worried look. Brody had been in bed all day. He had eaten very little, complaining of nausea and dizziness.

  Myra brought her hand to her son’s forehead. "He's burning up again," she said to Heather.

  Myra reached for the damp washcloth and placed it on Brody's forehead. She began to caress his head, but a clump of hair came loose in her hands. Alarmed, she stared at the handful of hair in her palm, then set it down on the nightstand.

  "Katie?" Brody asked, his eyes still closed.

  "She's still outside," Myra said. "I can go try to bring her up here if you want."

  "Please."

  Myra exchanged another worried glance with Heather, then she turned and walked out of the room with slumped shoulders. Heather set the bowl of soup down and looked at her brother. When Katie had seen her father that morning, she had run off outside, disappearing for hours.

  Myra had finally found her earlier that day in the tallest branches of a tree at the edge of the front yard. The teenager, so disturbed by the sight of her seriously ill father, had refused to come down.

  "Isn't there anything we can do, Brody?" Heather asked, leaning on the side of the bed.

  Brody swallowed. "If I start to get weird again, don't let her see me like that. Okay?"

  "Okay," Heather agreed.

  Around noon, Brody had become delirious. He had completely lost touch with reality. He had spent an hour or two babbling incoherently, talking to his dead wife as if he could see her in the room. Myra and Heather had watched on anxiously, relieved that Katie hadn't been there to see it.

  Then, when his temperature dropped a little, he had started to make sense again. But the episode had exhausted him, and he was left even weaker than before. His color had turned a more sickly shade of gray, and his eyes were bloodshot and heavily ringed with dark circles. His hands, when he could lift them, had a heavy tremor. And his voice was weak and shaky.

  Heather was exhausted, but the concern for her brother pushed her on. She was frustrated with the hopelessness of the situation. If only there was something she could do for him! All she could do was sit by his side and watch him waste away, growing a little weaker by the hour.

  Myra pulled her sweater around her as she walked to the edge of the yard. The sky had clouded over, turning the early fall day chilly. She spotted Katie perched on a long, sweeping branch of the old oak tree near the fence. The leaves had just started to change color, tingeing some of the green leaves with a golden yellow. Memories of autumns past flashed through Myra’s mind as she looked at the tree.

  "Your father liked to sit on the same branch when he was a kid," Myra called as she drew near. She came to a stop underneath the tree and looked up at Katie, whose face was tear-stained. “Annie, too. You look so much like your aunt up there.”

  "I'm not going in there!" Katie announced, crossing her arms over her chest. “I can’t! I don't want to see him like that."

  Myra peered upward, straining to find sight of the teenager through the tangle of branches and leaves. "Can you please come down here and talk to me?" Myra asked. "It's kind of hard to have a conversation like this."

  Katie sighed, then nodded. "Okay, I’ll come down."

  Myra watched as her granddaughter nimbly lowered herself from branch to branch, then jumped from the lowest joint of the tree and hit the ground unharmed. Katie took a seat in the grass and leaned her back against the truck of the old oak tree, pulling her knees in to her chest.

  Myra lowered herself to the ground and sat next to Katie, groaning slightly as she bent. Her knees were acting up again, though she’d hardly had any time to even notice.

  "You know your father loves you very much," Myra began. "He’s up there asking for you, Katie. He wants to see you."

  Katie turned her face and looked off toward the foothills to the north. At the higher elevations, the leaves had already turned deep yellow and orange, and the hills looked like they were on fire.

  "I know how hard this is for you," Myra said softly, brushing Katie’s hair out of her face. "It's hard for us all to see him like this, but you’re his daughter. I know you’re in terrible pain. I don't know everything you're going through, but I can imagine."

  Katie frowned. "This wasn't supposed to happen," she said, still looking away.

  "I know it wasn't. None of this was. It’s all just . . . like a horrible dream. And there’s not much we can do but try to be there for each other as best we can."

  "But he was better yesterday!" Katie insisted. "How could this happen again? How could he be riding his bike yesterday, and look totally normal, and then be stuck in bed again today? I thought it was just the flu! I thought he was going to get better!"

  Myra sighed. "I know, I know. We were all so hopeful. We all wanted him to be better. But I guess sometimes people rebound a little as their body fights an illness, then it just comes back stronger than ever. And this radiation sickness – it's something I've never seen before. We were unprepared for it. We just didn't know what to expect."

  "I hate this. I wish he'd never gone outside that day."

  "I understand. All these years, he wanted to do right by you, and for the most part, he has. He's always been there for you. He's always been there for everyone."

  Katie exhaled sharply. "That's what got him into this mess in the first place. He was all worried about that little kid."

  Myra nodded. "I understand you're angry at him. He made a mistake. He meant well, but it turned out to be a horrible mistake that he can't fix. And more than that – you're angry at the world right now. None of this is fair."

  "It's not fair at all!" Katie snapped. "All of my friends have both their parents. I don't have a mother, and now . . . "

  "I'm so sorry, Katie," Myra said tenderly. "You've been through so much. I wish I could make everything better for you."

  Katie was silent for a moment, then she turned to look at her grandmother. Tears were brimming in her eyes. "He looked so . . . gray. He looked so sick, and weak. Like an old man. He didn't look like my dad. I – I just don't think I can see him like that."

  Myra put her arm around Katie's shoulders and drew the girl in.

  "If you don't go see him now, you'll regret it the rest of your life," Myra whispered. "Trust me on that. I know you think you know better than all the adults in your life, but I know that much. You have to go say goodbye."

  For
several moments, Katie let herself be held by her grandmother. The girl’s red hair fell over her face, creating a shroud around her, and she closed her eyes.

  Finally, she sat up, sniffed and pushed the curls away from her eyes. She looked up toward Brody’s bedroom window, then at Myra.

  "I'm ready."

  Heather looked up to see Katie standing in the doorway. Myra stood behind her

  "Look who I found," Myra said, squeezing Katie's shoulder.

  Katie stood staring at her father in shock and disbelief. She cautiously took a few steps inside the room, coming to a stop at the foot of Brody's bed.

  "Katie," Brody said as his eyes focused on his daughter. His voice was weak, but he worked to make it steady.

  "Hi, Dad."

  Heather wiped the tears from her face before Katie could see and stood up slowly. "I'm going to leave you two alone. Okay, Brody?"

  "Okay," he said, and nodded at his sister.

  Heather walked slowly through the room, giving Katie a half smile. "We'll just be downstairs," she said as she pulled the door closed behind her.

  Brody smiled at his daughter. "Come sit down," he said in a raspy voice.

  Katie moved to the chair beside the bed and sat down nervously.

  "Dad, I'm sorry I didn't come up here sooner," Katie sputtered. "I just – I –”

  Brody waved away her concern with a slight gesture of his hand. "It's okay. It's me who needs to apologize."

  He took a slow, deep breath.

  "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when you needed me," he said slowly. "I should have stayed with you that day. And I'm so, so sorry I won't be there in the future."

  "Dad, no," Katie protested, shaking her head furiously. "You're going to get better!"

  Brody lifted his hand a bit from the bed to stop her. "Just let me tell you what I need to say."

  Katie nodded and looked down at her hands.

  "I know this is all scary. But you're going to be just fine," he said. "You're a very strong, smart girl. I know you can make it, even though the world is so different now."

  Katie burst into tears and leaned across the bed, throwing her arms across his shoulders.

  "No, Dad, no," she begged. "Please don't leave me!"

  He embraced her, and for a moment remembered the time when she was little and hugs were more frequent. At that moment, as she clung to her father, she still looked like the same little girl.

  "Shhh, it's going to be okay, Katie."

  Her shoulders shook as she wept. He held her, though he could feel himself growing weaker. He could feel time running out.

  "Listen to your grandmother, Katie. She’s a good woman. Your aunt, too. Always try to do the right thing in life. And Katie, always remember that I love you."

  His voice was barely above a whisper now. His hands grew weak, and fell down to his side. Speaking had used all his strength.

  "I'm sorry," Katie said between sobs, pulling away to look at him. "I'm sorry I was mean to you. I don’t know why I’m like that."

  He smiled at her. "You have nothing to apologize for, my daughter."

  He turned his head away to cough into the pillow, and she watched him through her tears. Letting his head collapse into the bed once more, he blinked and struggled to focus on her again. But he did, resting his vision on her sparkling, green eyes.

  "You've made me so proud," he whispered.

  34

  Paul shielded the sun from his eyes with his hand. He was walking west on a small highway, halfway between Corsicana and Waco.

  He had gotten an early start today after spending a restless night trying to fall asleep.

  Luckily, he hadn't seen any more visions of his dead wife. But he still saw reminders of her and his children everywhere. The abandoned minivan on the side of the road like the one Marie drove, the porch swing like the one the kids had piled onto when they visited Marie's parents. Discarded candy wrappers, advertisements from a newspaper blowing down the road – everything in the world, it seemed, reminded Paul of what he had lost.

  All he could do was keep walking. He moved fast, as if he could outrun the bits of memories that kept popping up around him. But wherever he went, his mind turned to his family.

  He periodically asked himself mental questions as if to test his own sanity. What was his age, what was the date (or his best guess), what had been the events of the past week? Of course, there was no objective third party to measure his responses, but he at least thought he was still mentally competent at the moment.

  He didn't seem to be losing his mind.

  But how could he know for sure?

  And what if those visions of Marie came back? Or worse, what if he found himself in some strange place and he couldn't remember how he got there? The experience of waking up two days ago disoriented in the middle of the forest and not remembering how he had gotten there was one he didn't want to repeat.

  So he tried to keep his mind sharp. He did mental arithmetic problems as he walked. He constantly calculated how many miles he had yet to cover, and how many he had put behind him. But because he didn’t want to spiral down into a black hole again, he tried to avoid actively recalling memories of his wife and children – at least not yet.

  Instead, he tried to remember parts of his childhood. He brought up every detail possible of growing up in the country – helping his dad on the farm, playing with Jack and the neighbor kids, listening to his parents laughing as they danced in the living room when they were in a good mood. There seemed to be a lot of love to go around back then. Paul wondered how things could have changed so much in his own lifetime.

  Maybe part of him was hoping the return to Loretta would mean a return to those simpler days. He caught himself thinking that he would go back there and find it just as it always was, the small rural area that time seemed to pass by. But he knew that change had come to even small towns. And worst of all, the attacks had affected even the rural areas he walked through now.

  His childhood home would not be the same. His parents were gone. But maybe, just maybe, Jack would be there. Maybe there was something left of this life to go on fighting for.

  And so he kept walking. And he would keep at it for a few more days until he arrived. He would make it to Loretta, one way or another. He didn't know what would be waiting for him there. He had to prepare himself for the worst. Everything would be different, changed.

  Paul didn't fear for his own safety. He wasn't concerned with attacks from the criminal elements he knew were roaming free without check on the streets. What worried him was something darker, more ambiguous.

  He just hoped that he could keep his own inner demons at bay.

  35

  Katie finally left her father’s room and dragged herself down the hall, feeling like her legs were filled with lead. She came to a stop at the top of the stairs. Myra and Heather, who were waiting tensely downstairs in the living room, looked up at her expectantly.

  "He wants to see you both," Katie said before turning back toward the room.

  Myra and Heather followed Katie back into the room. The three of them kept vigil at Brody's side, each of them saying goodbye in their own way. Outside the window, the light began to fade as the day drew to a close.

  Katie woke the next morning in her own bed. She didn’t remember when she had finally fallen asleep, but she had stayed at her father’s side until the wee hours of the morning.

  He had gone peacefully.

  Brody didn't speak much after his time with Katie. He just lay there in bed, resting his eyes at times, then looking at each of them in turn.

  He, too, had said his goodbye.

  After she woke up, Katie lay in her own bed for a long time, looking at the oak tree through the window.

  She could hardly believe it had happened. She knew it was true, but even now, it seemed like a terrible dream. How was it possible? He had been healthy and strong just one week before. She had expected him to stay that way forever, or at least for the tim
e being. At least long enough to see her grow up.

  How could he be gone?

  Katie’s throat was sore and filled with a lump, but she didn’t cry. She just felt a dull numbness. She didn’t know if that would ever change. Nothing, she was sure, would ever return to normal.

  Finally, Myra knocked at her door to check on her. Her grandmother walked in the room and wrapped Katie in a hug.

  "I'm making lunch downstairs," she said.

  In a numb sort of daze, Katie got dressed and went down to the living area. Heather and Myra, whose faces were tear-stained and tired looking, each gave her a hug, and then she joined her family at the dining room table. The three of them stared at the food on their plates, but no one ate. The three of them were in a daze, still reeling from watching Brody slip away.

  “Brody was a good man,” Myra said softly.

  “One of the best,” Heather said, not lifting her eyes.

  After another long silence, Heather finally reached toward the plate of sandwiches in the middle of the table. She served herself some food, then began to pick at it.

  "I'm going back out to look for Dad on the bike," Heather said. "Guess I should eat something."

  "Heather, you've been out there looking for him all day," Myra said. "And you stayed up all night. You need rest. You're going to run yourself ragged."

  Heather shrugged. "It doesn’t matter. I have to do something. We just lost Brody. I don't want to lose Dad, too."

  Myra shook her head and looked down at her lap. "I know."

  "But you're just giving up on Dad, aren't you?" Heather asked. "Well, I'm not really to give up on him."

  "I'm not giving up on him either, Heather," Myra said. "But you've gotten almost no sleep the past two nights. I just want you to take care of yourself."

  Heather looked down at her plate and took a bite of her sandwich. She glanced out the window as she ate halfheartedly.

  "I can help you look," Katie said in a hoarse voice.