by Keith Taylor
“Hey, Doc, come look at this,” she said, panning the camera to the right. “Do these look like power cables to you?”
Ramos peered at the screen. Beside the fan unit a double line of thick black cables was bolted to the roof of the tunnel, running over to a side wall. “Huh, could be. Follow them, would you?”
Karen nodded, nudging the joystick until the camera was pointed at the wall of the tunnel, where the cables vanished into the top of a tall steel cabinet set into an alcove. “Huh. What is that?”
“That,” replied Ramos, tapping the screen triumphantly, “is a junction box. That’s where we can shut off the ventilation. We need to disconnect those cables.”
“OK,” Karen nodded, standing from the desk. “Let’s get to it.” She looked down at her body, suddenly remembering she was in her underwear. “Umm, do we have any clothes down here?”
Ramos nodded, moving across to a row of lockers against the far wall. “I found these while you were washing,” he said, pulling open the closest door.
In the locker hung a set of high visibility clothing. Ramos pulled out a heavy yellow jacket and a pair of pants, and then reached down with a labored groan to pull out a pair of work boots. He straightened up with a wince, then shook out the pants and poked his foot into one leg.
“Ummm, Doc?” Karen coughed tactfully, pointing to the waist of the trousers. “Are you sure you’re not being a little optimistic there?”
Ramos frowned, confused, and then he noticed. “Oh, hell,” he cursed, holding up the trousers. The waist was elasticated, but even so there was no way it would fit over Ramos’ belly. He looked like he’d struggle to get them over one leg.
“Hang on, lemme find something else.” He dropped the pants to the floor and turned back to the lockers, pulling open door after door.
“Don’t worry about it, Doc,” Karen assured him. “Looks like they’re a perfect fit for me.” She walked over and scooped up the trousers, but before she could step into them Ramos grabbed her arm.
“No!” he whispered harshly, lowering his voice just enough so that Emily couldn't hear.“I can’t let you go out there on your own. You’re got to take care of your little girl.”
Karen shook herself from his grip and pulled the pants up her legs. “I am taking care of Emily, Doc. It’s like you said. As long as those fans are spinning we’re on borrowed time. I’m not just gonna stay down here and wait for us all to die.”
Ramos shook his head. “No! No, I can’t let you do that. I can go.” He tried to hold her back from pulling on the jacket. “Listen to me, I can go!”
“Doc,” Karen replied, her voice growing terse. “I appreciate what you're trying to do, but maybe now isn’t the right time debate gender roles. The clothes fit me, and I’m not sending you out there with nothing but your balls and a sense of chivalry to protect you. Now drop it. I’m going.” She reached into the locker and withdrew a hard hat, followed by a two way radio that she handed to Ramos.
“OK, does this thing work?” She reached down the handset hooked to the chest pocket of her jacket, flipping on the power and holding down the transmit button.
“Test… Test.” She sighed. “Doc, you have to turn yours on.”
Ramos flipped the switch, still scowling with injured pride, and when Karen spoke into her radio once more her voice came through clearly on Ramos’ set.
She turned to Emily. “OK, pumpkin? I just need to go upstairs for a little while. I want you to wait here with Doctor Ramos, OK? Can you do that for me?”
Emily’s lower lip began to wobble. “I want to come with you, mommy. I don’t like it down here.”
Karen took a knee, opening her arms for Emily to run into a hug. “I know, pumpkin, I know,” she said, stroking her damp hair. “But it’s not safe for little girls up there right now. I need you to be brave until I get back. Just for five minutes. Can you be brave for mommy?”
Emily sniffed and nodded, her face buried in Karen’s shoulder, and then she pulled back and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “Just for five minutes, right? You have to promise.”
“Five minutes,” Karen nodded. “Pinkie swear.” She pulled Emily in for a tight hug, and then pulled away and allowed Ramos to pick her up.
“We can watch mommy on the video, Emily,” he said, pointing to the screens. “You wanna do that?”
Emily nodded. “Uh huh. Can I move the cameras?”
“Sure, honey. You can move them as much as you like.” He turned Emily away from Karen, giving her a smile. Go on, he mouthed, nodding to the door. I got her.
Karen felt tears prick at her eyes as she quietly pushed open the control room door. She couldn’t resist one final look back at her daughter before it closed behind her. She tried to ignore the voices whispering in her head, but she couldn’t help but feel as if she’d just said goodbye to Emily for the last time.
She shook the thought out of her head. No! There isn’t time to mope. She had a job to do. If she didn’t do it right her daughter would die.
That thought was enough to get her moving with purpose. She pulled open the fire box beside the door and lifted the ax from its hooks, hefting it over her shoulder and turning towards the stairs.
Up there, somewhere in the tunnel, there was a switch that needed to be thrown. It was the only way to keep her little girl alive.
She just prayed it wasn’t already too late.
΅
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
I GUESS IT'S JUST US NOW
“WHAT THE HELL…” Jack sputtered, frozen to the spot.
By the darkened doorway of the gas station the woman stood, thrusting the barrel of her shotgun a little closer.
“What kind of an idiot do you think I am?” she asked. “You turn up after dark in the middle of a power cut claiming you had a skydiving accident, dressed in a torn suit covered in muck and blood? Seriously? You must think I was born yesterday.”
Jack looked down at his hands. He hadn't even noticed that they were still sticky with Warren's blood. “Ma’am, please,” he pleaded, wiping them on his jacket as if it might help. “I’m telling you the—”
“What’s your game?” she demanded, cutting him off. “You trying to rob me? Rape me? You on the run from the law? You sure as hell didn’t fall from the sky in that getup. Come on, you better tell me the truth or so help me God I’m gonna start shooting.”
Jack slowly pointed over to the other side of the building, careful not to make any sudden movements. “Ma’am, I swear to God I’m telling you the truth. My friend’s right around the corner. Please, just… please, don’t shoot. You can go and see for yourself. I swear to you I’m not a bad guy, and I don’t mean you any harm.” He clasped his hands together. “Please.”
The woman stared at him for what felt like an eternity, sizing him up, and then she jerked the barrel of the gun away from the building.
“Step back to the pumps. I see you come within spitting distance and I’m pulling the trigger. No second warning, you understand?”
Jack nodded, carefully stepping back away from the building. “Understood. You don’t have to worry about me.”
She moved along the wall, keeping the shotgun trained on Jack’s chest as she walked, and when she reached the front corner of the building she jerked the gun towards the ground. “OK, now sit your ass down and cross your legs.”
Again Jack complied, lowering himself slowly to the ground, his eyes locked on the shotgun. “I’m Jack,” he said, trying for a smile. He felt ridiculous, but he figured the woman might not be so quick to pull the trigger if there was a name attached to the face. “Jack Archer. I’m from San Francisco.”
“I don’t care if you’re Mohandas Gandhi,” she replied, walking cautiously towards the far corner of the building. “If you or this buddy of yours try anything funny the coroner can get your name by looking through your wallet.”
Finally she reached the corner and took a few steps away from the building, leaning back to get a lo
ok around the side.
“Please,” Jack begged. “Let me get up and help him. If I don’t stitch that wound he’ll die.”
The woman turned back to him, bringing the shotgun up to her shoulder. “OK, this is your last chance before I shoot. What’s your game?”
Jack stammered, confused. “I swear to you there’s no game! I just need to help my friend! Jesus, surely you can see he’s injured!”
She took a quick step towards him and yelled angrily. “There’s nobody there!”
“What?” Jack couldn’t believe what she was saying. “Of course he’s there!” Just a few minutes ago Warren had been delirious, halfway through death’s door. He couldn't have given his name for a winning lottery ticket. Where could he possibly have gone?
The horrible answer came a moment later. From the front door of the building Boomer emerged at a trot, panting and wagging her tail as she spotted Jack, and a moment later there was a flash of movement behind the plate glass window.
It all happened too fast. Warren appeared in the doorway, one hand clutched over the wound at his side. He collapsed against the frame, his face ghostly pale, and in his free hand something glinted in the moonlight.
“Warren, no!” Jack yelled when he realized what was happening, but it was too late. Warren swung the snub nosed pistol up to shoulder height, and sighting along the wall of the gas station he aimed at the woman and pulled the trigger four times.
Pop. Pop, pop, pop.
The pistol was little more than a peashooter compared to the woman’s shotgun, but it didn’t have to be. Two shots whispered off into the forest but the other two hit their mark, punching holes in her plaid shirt.
Everything seemed to move in slow motion. Jack clumsily pushed himself up from the ground as Boomer ran towards him, shocked by the gunfire. Warren let the gun fall to his waist, his energy spent. The woman staggered back, unaware that she’d been hit, working on autopilot as she swung the shotgun around and squeezed the trigger, emptying the barrel into the front of the building.
The plate glass shattered under a barrage of buckshot. Splinters exploded in every direction, and as the echo of the shot died away Warren slid slowly down the door frame, falling to the ground half in darkness, half in moonlight.
Even as Jack ran towards him he could see blood blossoming across his shirt from a handful of new wounds, but Warren was still. It didn’t take a doctor to realize that he'd used his final breaths trying to save them.
Jack threw himself through the door, vaulting over Warren’s body and shielding himself as best he could from the shot he was certain would come at any moment. He lay himself flat on the ground beside the old man, feeling the shattered glass cut into his skin, praying that the woman couldn't see him through the broken window.
Boomer followed at a slower pace, unaware of the danger and confused by all the noise. She sniffed at Warren’s legs when she reached him, but Jack didn’t dare reach out from his cover to pull her inside, out of harm's way. All he could do was hiss her name.
Boomer ignored him. She let out a long whine, prodding her snout against Warren's shoulder, and then she nestled herself in at his side and curled up, looking up at Jack with sad, doleful eyes. She knew. Warren’s chest had stopped moving, and when Jack reached out and pressed his fingers against the old man's neck he couldn't feel a pulse.
He was gone.
“Hello?” Jack called out to the forecourt, his voice eerily loud in the sudden silence. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen. Listen to me, I’m a doctor. I can help you.”
He squeezed his eyes tight and tried to drum up the courage for what came next. “Look… I’m coming out. Please don’t shoot. I just want to help you.”
A long, silent moment passed, but no matter how long he waited the courage failed to appear. He couldn't move. He just lay there, listening to the rustle of leaves and the tinkle of the last shards of glass falling from the window frame, certain that at any moment the woman would appear in the door, shotgun in hand, ready to end him.
“I... I'm coming out,” he repeated, as if saying the words would magically force his legs to move.
Jack knew he was rolling the dice. The moment he stepped out from cover he knew there was a good chance he’d be shot. If he were in the same position as the woman he'd fire in a heartbeat, but he knew what he had to do. None of this was her fault. She was scared and alone, gut shot by a stranger, and he couldn’t just stand by and let her die when he knew he might have been able to save her.
He repeated the incantation a third time. “OK, I’m coming out now.” This time he finally found the courage to stand. He raised his hands above his head, stepped carefully over Warren and Boomer and planted a foot beyond the door. With a deep breath he pushed himself forward, out into the moonlight.
There was no shot.
He barely dared open his eyes, but when he looked out towards the far corner of the building he saw the shotgun abandoned on the ground, a still glowing flashlight beside it. In the beam he could see blood, a glistening trail running away towards the forest, and at the end of the trail…
She was already gone by the time he reached her. She lay face down close to the tree line. She’d tried to stem the bleeding with a handful of leaves, but as Jack carefully turned over her body he could tell she never stood a chance. One of the bullets had caught her in the side, a glancing shot that probably didn’t hit anything vital, but the other had pierced her heart, or at least severed one of the blood vessels leading from it. From the volume of blood around her it looked like it had taken her less than a minute to bleed out. With a little luck the shock had hit her too quickly for the pain to arrive.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, pulling her hand from the wound and setting it down by her side. “I was just…” He felt his voice choke in her throat, and tears began to prick at his eyes. He wiped them away, smearing his cheeks with her blood. “I was just trying to get home to my daughter. I’m so, so sorry.”
Jack fell to her side, trying to wipe the blood from his hands against the ground, but there was too much. He felt like he was covered in it from head to toe, and it wasn't just her blood. It was Warren's. It was Robbie's. It was Karen and Emily's, and the blood of everyone else he'd failed.
“I'm so sorry,” he repeated, as if there were anyone left alive to offer him forgiveness.
He sat with his head in his hands, his tears cutting through the sheen of blood on his cheeks, and as he sniffed he saw Boomer padding slowly towards him, her head down, a look in her eyes that suggested she understood much more about what was happening than any dog should. She settled beside him, nestling in close and looking back towards Warren's body.
Jack reached out and pulled her closer, wrapping an arm around her neck.
“I guess it's just us now, girl,” he said, stroking her ear.
Boomer let out a pitiful whine, lowered herself to the ground and rested her head on the floor, looking up at Jack.
“I know,” he said, wiping away his tears. “I know. I'm sorry about Warren.” He took a deep breath and hauled himself to his feet, trying to shake off the self pity that threatened to anchor him to the ground. Boomer stood up beside him, gazing up at him with a questioning look.
“So,” he said, pulling his cell phone from his jacket pocket, “what do you wanna do now?” He tapped the screen. There were still no bars, but he called up his messages and clicked beside the last from Karen.
Where are you? Pls tell me you left Seattle. News says it could be hit by nuke. Me+Em+Doc headed to Anne’s place. Pls call when you can.
Love you.
It felt like a lifetime had passed since the message had appeared on his screen, not just five hours or so. He read it again, his eyes resting on the final words, and then finally he tapped away from the screen, slipped the phone back into his pocket and looked down at Boomer.
“You want to go meet my little girl?”
Boomer barked.
Jack rea
ched down and scratched the soft folds of her neck.
“I'm taking that as a yes.” He gave the dog a wan smile. “Come on, buddy, we have a long way to go.”
΅
COMING SOON
HOW FAR WOULD you go to save the life of your child?
Still hundreds of miles from his little girl with no car, no food, and only the company of an excitable labrador, Boomer, Jack Archer has a long journey ahead of him, and not an inch of it will be easy. Between deadly nuclear fallout, destroyed cities and new allies he's not sure he can completely trust, there are a thousand ways tomorrow might kill him.
Hundreds of miles to the south Jack's ex-wife Karen is running out of time, trapped in the ruins of San Francisco, poisoned by radioactive fallout. But as she leaves the city behind she's about to learn that she, Emily and Doctor Ramos are in much greater danger than they ever imagined.
They're about to learn who dropped the bombs.
The second novel in the Jack Archer series will be released exclusively at Amazon, coming December 2018.
Thank you for reading Things Fall Down, the first novel in the Jack Archer trilogy. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Before you move on (I hope) to the next installment I'd really appreciate it if you'd take a moment to post a review of this book on Amazon. Authors live on caffeine and reviews, and while I'm all set for coffee I have to rely on my readers for the rest.
P.S. If I've ever blown up your home town in one of my stories I'm very sorry. If I've ever not blown up your home town in one of my stories I take requests.
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