The Next World Box Set [Books 1-3]

by Olah, Jeff

  The black leather chair began to turn. Goodwin hated being called by his first name—he felt as though it was a sign of disrespect. He liked Mr. Goodwin and would accept simply being referred to by only his last name, but despised anything else.

  Completing his turn and standing from his chair, Goodwin leaned into his desk and regarded Gentry with a restrained grin. “What can I do for you, other than have Dalton get that mess downstairs cleaned up?”

  “I’m done.”

  “Again?”

  Gentry counted in his head. He wanted to give the moment an exclamation, figuring ten seconds would suffice, but only made it to five. “I can’t help you anymore…this whole thing is an abomination.”

  Goodwin didn’t blink. And now Gentry was beginning to think he may have taken things a half-step too far. He only needed to state the facts and be on his way, his personal opinion maybe should have stayed buried, but it was officially too late to go back. He needed to stay the course. If Goodwin sensed that he was wavering, things might just turn ugly.

  “Dr. Gentry, I need to get on a flight. I don’t have the time or the inclination to play psychotherapist to whatever this is, can’t you just go back to work and ask for a raise like everyone else?”

  Okay, he obviously isn’t getting this. “I’m leaving Marcus. There isn’t any reason for me to stay. The tests are getting worse and you’ve killed more men than I’ll ever be comfortable with.”

  “You mean we, we’ve killed more men than you’re comfortable with.”

  He again shook his head. “You don’t need me here anymore. You only need someone to record the data and look the other way. I can’t help you fix this unless you’re willing to go back to the beginning, and I already know the answer to that.”

  Goodwin curled up his lip and took in a deep breath through his nose. After a beat, he looked up at Gentry. “Fix it.”

  “I can’t, and I think you know that, so why—”

  Goodwin pushed away from the desk. He rubbed his hands together looking toward the ceiling, and finally back to Gentry. “Okay,” he said motioning toward the hall. “Then you’re free to go.”

  He knew he would never be free and that Goodwin only expected him to return to the lab and continue working on the failed project. But for once he was going to do what was right and not what was expected. As he turned and started toward the massive doors at the entrance to the suite, he paused and looked back over his shoulder. “Mr. Goodwin … respectfully, I have to say that I don’t think you’ve thought this all the way through. This thing is heading in the wrong direction and has the potential to change the course of history, but not in the way you had initially intended. Things could get really bad, really fast.”

  Before Goodwin could respond, Dr. Dominic Gentry continued through the doors and into the elevator outside the penthouse suite for the very last time. He pressed the button for the lobby, dropped his head, and closed his eyes.

  “I wonder if he’ll let me live long enough to make it to my car.”

  44

  Present day …

  Owen Mercer sat with his back against the door watching his son run from one end of the parking lot to the other. The rain had finally ended, they had a two-week supply of food, the building was mostly secure, and although it appeared as though they may get their first full day of sun since arriving at Cecil’s, he had a feeling that this day wasn’t going to end well.

  Across the street and two buildings over, Owen’s attention was briefly pulled away from his son. He put his hands above his eyes and focused on the windows along the second floor.

  He had sixty seconds, maybe less. The silhouetted figure from the previous three days had come back … and it was finally time to do something about it.

  “Noah,” Owen said, attempting to keep his voice at an even level. “Why don’t you grab the ball and go find Lucas.”

  Without turning, his son continued toward the eight-foot chain-link fence at the northern edge of the parking lot. He scooped up a tattered football, paused to look it over, and then started back toward Owen. “Lucas and Ava are with Mom inside.”

  “How about we go find out what they’re—”

  Before he could finish, a burst of static shot from his left hip, quickly followed by Kevin’s voice. “You seeing this?”

  Owen reached for the two-way radio and keyed the mic. “They’re back, whoever they are.”

  Kevin sounded calm, his words coming out slow and deliberate. “Where are the others?”

  Owen pushed away from the door, tucked a nine millimeter into his waistband, and started to stand. He held the two-way radio to his mouth and responded to Kevin while waving his son over. “They’re inside, I’m heading in with Noah right now. Be up in a few.”

  There was a long pause as Owen followed Noah in through the entry and secured the massive double doors. Then another squawk pulled his attention back to his left hand. “Take your time, they’re moving a bit slower today … something’s different.”

  As Noah ran off into the dining area, Owen came to a stop. “You able to get eyes on them?”

  “Yeah, visuals are better today. Without that cloud cover, you can see clear through to the other side of the building.”

  Owen again keyed the mic, but was a half second too late as Kevin’s voice interrupted. “And they’ve managed to pull that group from the street away, so maybe this is a good thing.”

  Yeah sure. “I’ll be up in a minute, let me just give Nat a heads-up.”

  Turning back toward the kitchen, Owen scanned the room. First the tables near the bar, then where he’d left his wife and his daughter, and finally to the sound of voices coming from the main hall over his right shoulder.

  Noah giggled as Owen entered the room. The nine-year-old looked quickly from Lucas—now seated in a chair—to Natalie, and then back to Owen. He didn’t say anything, just held his hand over his mouth, his eyes wide, and his head on a swivel.

  Owen came in behind his wife, waited for her to turn, and then playfully shook his head. “So the whole world goes to hell and you decide it’s time to become a hair stylist?”

  Natalie stepped away from Lucas and held out her hands. “I’d say I did a pretty good job, maybe I missed my calling.”

  “What are you—”

  She moved toward Owen, continuing as she motioned back toward Lucas. “He fixed the solar charger, we made a trade.”

  Owen was only half-listening. His attention was already beyond the conversation and with his friend on the roof. He fought the urge to let his imagination run away, and instead tried to focus on only the facts.

  Someone had found their way to the building across the street. This person seemed to know exactly how to stay hidden in the shadows, but was also keen enough to let their presence be known. And for three days, at exactly nine-fifteen, the small, slow-moving individual had made their way from the alley to the top floor, without giving away their identity.

  Owen was a little more than curious.

  Kissing Natalie on the cheek, he leaned around her and eyed Lucas. The boy looked younger now. His shoulder-length hair having been cut to just below his ears, he could have easily been mistaken for fifteen or sixteen.

  Lucas looked away, toward where the small, hand-held solar charger sat near the window. Turning back to Owen, he smiled, his cheeks a bright shade of pink. “Now we can keep the phones charged, maybe once every other day.”

  The boy had mostly kept his distance from Owen. There was never an actual conversation, although he understood how Owen felt about the time he was spending with his daughter and his place within the group. It was evident in every action and every gesture. He was trying to earn respect as well as show his character.

  “Why would we do that?” Owen asked, his words sounding a bit more abrasive than he intended. “We haven’t had a signal in days and I seriously doubt that’s going to change.”

  Lucas continued to smile as he stood from the chair, and moved toward the w
indow. He quickly disconnected the phone that was attached to the charger, powered it on, and held up his right index finger. “These aren’t just phones.”

  Owen cut his eyes at the boy. “Yeah?”

  With the phone in his left hand, Lucas swiped up from the bottom of the screen and tapped once with his thumb. From the back side of the phone a flood of illumination washed over the lower half of his body and his feet. “Yeah, now we have four flashlights that don’t need batteries.”

  Owen looked to his wife and then then back to Lucas, offering the boy a half grin. He wanted to let him know that he trusted him, that he was impressed, and that he knew how valuable he’d be to the group. He just didn’t feel the time was right for all the warm, fuzzy stuff. Not yet anyway.

  “Nice,” Owen said, “just make sure we’re smart about when and where we’re turning them on. So far we’ve managed to not draw any attention to ourselves … and I’d like to keep it that way.”

  Lucas nodded, his smile fading and his cheeks growing a deeper shade of red. “Yes sir, I understand.”

  Owen quickly turned away, intentionally not making eye contact with the others. “I’ll be on the roof.”

  He’d almost made it to the door when Natalie’s voice came from behind. “Are they back?”

  He kept walking, but didn’t turn. “Yep.”

  She sounded tired. “Who do you think it is?”

  “I don’t know,” Owen said, “but I have a feeling we’re about to find out.”

  45

  Owen opened the hatch to the roof, scanned the late morning sky, and watched for a thumbs-up from Kevin. It was warmer than the previous two days, and although he could see for miles, he waited for the signal from his friend. With the all-clear, he climbed out, moved quickly to the northern edge, and dropped to one knee.

  “So?”

  Kevin handed him a pair of binoculars and motioned toward the upper floors of the building nearly one hundred yards away. “There’s something different today.”

  “Where am I looking?”

  “Uh …” Kevin ran his hand over his greying beard and tilted his head from left to right. “She dipped out on the second floor, I think we can catch her as she comes out onto the third.”

  “She … wait, are you sure? I mean I know we had thought that—”

  “Yeah, she came to the window and looked out, only for a few seconds. Couldn’t make out any details, just the fact that it was a woman.”

  “And?”

  “And that’s it. She wants us to know that she’s here, and now we just need to find out why.”

  Owen brought the binoculars up to his eyes and began looking for a point of reference. He ran over the street, up the sidewalk, and then quickly to a third floor window. He moved right, found the southeast corner, and then quickly backtracked to the window that sat closest to the stairwell. He blinked once and then steadied his hands. “Okay, here we …”

  As Owen’s voice began to trail off, Kevin pushed from a crouched position and started to straighten up. Even from this distance, he could make out the silhouette as it darkened the window. “That’s her.”

  “Yeah,” Owen said, “she’s moving a little slower than yesterday. You notice her limping before?”

  “Not really.”

  Owen watched as the shadowed figure on the third floor bent at the waist, retrieved something from the ground, and then turned to face the window. Dark skin, partially obscured by a thick layer of soot, large hazel eyes, high cheekbones, and full lips. She couldn’t have been much over thirty, and although she drifted back into the hall and disappeared, Owen had the sense that her stop outside the door was indeed intentional.

  Kevin looked back toward the hatch and then out over the parking lot below. “Now what?”

  Owen stared up at the sun for a brief moment and then yawned hard. He wasn’t sure what this was, but he didn’t necessarily feel the need to get overly excited. It was one person and for now they knew exactly where she was. What’s the worst thing that could happen?

  “For now,” Owen said, “I say we wait, see what she does.”

  “And then?”

  “Let’s just give it a minute.”

  “Uh …”

  “Hey,” Owen said, looking back over his shoulder, “where’s Zeus?”

  Kevin continued to watch the building across the street. “What?”

  “Zeus, I haven’t seen him since early this morning.”

  Kevin rolled the stiffness from his neck and reached for the rifle near his right foot. Turning to Owen he grinned. “You’re redirecting, why?”

  “Huh?”

  “What aren’t you saying?”

  Owen shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

  Kevin eyed him for a moment and then pulled the rifle into his shoulder. He scoped the roof across the street and moved his line of sight from the west to the east, slowing as he came to the door to the stairs. “Alright, whenever you’re ready.”

  Owen didn’t respond. There wasn’t nearly enough time to run through the things that were keeping him up at night, and for the most part there wasn’t really anything that could be done. This was the way of the world now, whether he liked it or not. Not the time, not the place.

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “And,” Kevin continued to look through the scope, but grinned as he turned slightly toward Owen, “I have Zeus on the third-floor office. He’s watching the lot behind us.”

  Owen wasn’t really listening and still only half in the conversation. His mind was already playing out what was happening in the building across the street, and why he suddenly felt the urge to reassess the situation. “Where is she, why’s it taking so long? She should have—”

  Kevin nodded. “Yeah, something’s off. She should have easily cleared the third floor by now.”

  That was the opposite of what Owen was looking for. He needed Kevin to be the voice of reason, the level-headed optimist who would bring him back to center. For once he’d hoped that his new friend would tell him he was crazy, that he was overthinking things. It was what he was hoping for, what he needed.

  Especially now.

  Owen stood. He checked the two-way radio and pulled the nine millimeter from his waistband. “I’m going over there.”

  “What?” Kevin’s voice echoed from the rooftop, filtering down into the street, and fading as it moved toward the northern end of the long city block.

  “I’m not playing games with … with whoever she is.”

  Kevin continued to scope the roofline across the street. “That’s not how we do things and you know that.”

  “But I also can’t just sit here, and you know that.”

  Kevin pulled his eye away from the scope, looked back toward Owen. “Listen my friend, I know you’re struggling. I’ve seen it for the past few days, but you need to get a handle on it. I’m not going to pretend I understand what it’s like to be in your head, but I’m here to help, to listen, to whatever.”

  Owen let out a stilted chuckle and then motioned toward the side of his head. “I haven’t even told you about half of what goes on up here. You don’t understand, you couldn’t, no one does.”

  “I get that, but you also have a responsibility to your family. You have to get it under control; you don’t have a choice. The decisions you make are bigger than just what happens to you at this point. I’m here to listen and for whatever else you need, but you’re gonna have to work at this, make it a priority to keep those voices from turning you into something you’re not.”

  Owen turned and looked out over the opposite side of the city, the part that was quiet, the part that still looked like it could have been free from all of this. He knew better, but liked how it felt finding something that reminded him of what the world used to be.

  “Thanks my friend, but that’s not exactly how it works. The voices in my head don’t have an off button. Sometimes it’s all I can hear.” Owen turned back, let out a slow breath. “I used to be able to quie
t them with some pretty heavy-duty meds, but that was before. Now, when they start, it’s like running through a minefield … blindfolded.”

  Kevin turned his eye back to the scope, but only held it out in front. “Like I said, I’m here for whatever …”

  Owen saw it at nearly the same time. The woman from the building across the street had appeared on the roof and was standing at the southern corner, just behind the parapet, staring back at them. He turned and without saying a word, started toward the hatch, holding tight to the weapon in his waistband.

  “Owen, wait.”

  He reached the parking lot and sprinted toward to the gate as the two-way radio on his hip erupted with a burst of static, and then Kevin’s rushed voice. “Owen, don’t do this.”

  As he fingered the lock and dropped the chain to the asphalt, Owen looked to where he remembered seeing the dark-skinned woman with the hazel eyes. From his vantage, he had lost sight of anything above the roofline and would now be relying solely on instinct.

  Again, Kevin’s voice shot from the radio. “Owen, she’s gone. She turned back.”

  Owen started across the street, scanning the sidewalk ahead, and intermittently checking the windows along the second and third floors. He reached the front doors and, retrieving the nine millimeter, moved quickly through the storefront of what was once a family owned Italian restaurant.

  Unfamiliar with the layout, he slowed as he found the exit leading to the stairs. With his head against the back of the door and his ear pressed tight, he could just make out the sounds of rushed footsteps growing closer. Before he was able to step away, the door shot open, knocking him off his feet and sending him backwards into an overturned table.

  As he was upended, his head skipped off the base of the table and the chairs he had reached for were brought down on top of him. Struggling to get back to his feet, a pounding started at the back of his head. He pushed up onto his right elbow and found the source with his left hand.

  A thin line of warm blood ran down his left index finger and into his hand as he tried to focus on the shadowed woman now standing over him. He quickly reached for the weapon on his waist, only to realize that he had dropped it during his collision with the table and now the woman standing over him had it under her right foot.