The Next World Box Set [Books 1-3]

by Olah, Jeff

  “No.” The younger man’s face changed. He looked harder, even a few years older than just a few minutes before. It was something that might have been useful, something he should have learned to harness before he decided to follow Declan in the first place. “I don’t think so, there’s no way I’m getting out. I’d be dead in a matter of minutes.”

  Declan curled up his lip. “I’m not asking.”

  “No, I don’t think so. I’m going with you.”

  Declan leaned forward, pulled a pistol from under the seat, and pointed it at Tommy’s face. “This is where you get out my young friend. Now, I’m not a complete monster, so I’ll let you have your choice of two weapons from the trunk, and a day’s supply of water. But this is where we part ways. You’ll either figure out how to make it work or you won’t. If you do, you’ll probably be thankful for this moment right here, and if you don’t, well then, you won’t remember any of this anyway. It’s a win-win I’d say.”

  Tommy looked out through the cracked glass, bit at his lip. “What is this, what are you doing?”

  Declan motioned toward the passenger door. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m going back out to find that woman and her family.”

  “But Goodwin’s gone?”

  “And yet there’s still work to be done.”

  “Declan, you’re wrong.”

  “I am?”

  “Yeah, you are a monster.”

  “Be that as it may, I’m still going to need you to get out.”

  63

  It was warm near the shore this afternoon. The cloud cover had finally burned away, and although the area was relatively secluded, there were still those that had decided to flee. More with each passing hour. He knew this wouldn’t last and had planned to move again in the next few days, but for now he just wanted to stay in the same place for more than a few nights.

  “Helloooo.”

  To his right and back thirty yards, the woman in the ten-million-dollar home again stood on her deck waving him over. She had told him that she was following her brother out of town, but after their last conversation, he wasn’t surprised to see her yet again.

  Dr. Dominic Gentry pulled on a heather grey hooded sweatshirt and reached for the gun that lay wrapped in the towel to his left. Kicking the sand from his shoes, he peered down to the opposite end of the beach and pushed away from the bright-colored folding chair.

  The woman now stood back away from the railing, her eyes darting from north to south. When he was within ten yards, she turned and quickly looked him over. For the moment, her name escaped him. He thought it was Helen or Diana, or Cynthia, or maybe Cheryl. He never was good with names, and now was just hoping this wasn’t going to get awkward.

  He stopped at the set of steps leading to the raised deck and offered the woman a friendly smile. “I thought you were headed out?”

  The woman looked past him, toward the shore break a few hundred yards away. She held her hand over her mouth for a moment, and then slowly shaking her head, again met his eyes. “I’m sorry, but I can’t understand why you’re out here.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  She was rubbing her hands together. “How can you be so calm about all of this?” She pointed toward a group of three Feeders struggling to navigate the soft sand and churning waters. “I mean they just keep coming, they don’t ever stop.”

  Gentry shrugged his shoulders. There wasn’t anything he could tell her, nothing about what he actually knew would make any sense. He could let her know the extent of what this really was and how this whole thing came to be, but it just wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference.

  “I’m just taking it one day at a time. Hoping I make it to see the sun come up tomorrow. That’s it. Getting all worked up about it uses energy I’d rather save to fight those things.” He was lying to her with the best possible intentions.

  The woman turned back to watch the trio near the water, but unclenched her hands and relaxed her shoulders. “Have you had to do it?”

  He nearly laughed at her ominous delivery. “Do what?”

  “Have you had to kill one of those things? My brother said you need to aim for the head or better yet, run.”

  Okay, now he might be of some use. Give her something that may actually keep her alive for more than a few days. He could offer some advice without it coming across as if he knew something he shouldn’t. But he also wanted to be sure this wasn’t going to lead to another set of questions.

  “I think your brother is right. The only way to make sure that they don’t come back is to shoot them in the head. You can run, and probably should in most situations, but if you find yourself unable to—”

  She interrupted, looked like she was having trouble keeping it in. “Are you sure? My brother is always coming up with those conspiracy theory type stories. Some of the things he says make absolutely no sense.”

  Something occurred to him that hadn’t before. He quickly scanned the deck and then peered in through the open sliding glass door. “Wait, do you even have anything to protect yourself?”

  “Yes, my brother has a few long rifles and a bunch of handguns. He’s given me a few lessons, but I’m still not really comfortable using them.”

  On his toes, Gentry attempted to see further into the massive home. “He’s still here, I thought he was leaving last night?”

  “No, he wanted to wait to see if his nephew shows up. Said he’d give him until this afternoon. Personally, I think we’d be safer here.”

  She was right, they would be safer here, but probably not for all the reasons she was thinking. With the ocean at their backs, they really only needed to watch three sides, and for the last twenty-four hours, the streets leading to the shoreline community were clearer than most. He knew that wouldn’t last, but for now it was something.

  “Is your brother still thinking about leaving the city?”

  He’d lost her once again. She turned away and started for the other end of the deck, glancing back to see if he was following. “Oh no, there’s even more down there. It looks like they’re coming this way. We need to get inside.”

  Gentry took the stairs, crossed the deck, and now stood beside her at the far railing. He squinted into the distance, fighting the late afternoon sun to get a quick head count. “Yeah, that’s a good-sized crowd. But they’re still too far off to know for sure what spooked them. Could be just about anything.”

  She moved back, reached for his arm and motioned toward the home. “We should go inside.”

  He instinctively pulled back his arm, maybe too aggressively from the look on her face. She didn’t know him, his past, didn’t know what it had taken to get him here. But then again, how could she? “I’m sorry, but you’re right. You should probably get back inside.”

  The woman appeared annoyed for second, but then quickly began to nod. “Yes, let’s go. I don’t want to be out here.”

  There was movement over his right shoulder. Gentry turned to see the woman’s brother standing near the open slider, his hand resting on the weapon on his hip. He was a large man, probably close to six feet, looked to be somewhere over two-hundred pounds. He wore a blue ball cap, a grey and white track jacket, and black denim.

  “Margaret, they’re close, but there’s a problem.”

  Her name … Margaret. He wasn’t even close.

  She turned from her brother to Gentry and then back to her brother. “Bernard, you remember Mr. Gentry?”

  The large man stepped out onto the deck, offered Gentry his hand. “Yes, how are you?” Then without waiting for an answer, turned back to Margaret. “Arlo and his friends are stuck near the highway. I’m going out to help.”

  “You’re going? I thought we needed to pack everything up first?”

  “I have to get out there, it won’t take but thirty minutes.” He turned to Gentry, looked down at his weapon. “You coming with us?”

  Gentry motioned back over his right shoulder. “Think I’m going to ride it out here, at
least for the night.”

  Bernard stepped inside, reached for Margaret’s hand. “I want you to stay inside, keep the blinds closed, and stay near the radio. I’ll ring you when we’re close. Be ready to go.”

  Before following her brother inside, Margaret again glanced back toward the end of the beach. Then back to Gentry she said, “Are you sure?” She forced a smile. “There’s strength in numbers.”

  He matched her expression, but shook his head. “I’ll be okay here, got a few things I need to take care of before I move on.”

  64

  Owen drove the SUV between a pair of concrete barricades and pulled to a stop behind Kevin’s pickup. Reaching for the radio, he lowered his window, and watched the city around him. Scanning the abandoned vehicles that lined the sidewalks, he was looking for movement behind glass doors and windows. Not searching for anything in particular, just allowing his eyes to drift over the area and see if anything jumped out.

  Nothing but a slight breeze, the distant wail of a car alarm, and the rapid beating of his own heart.

  Before he could turn to her, Natalie reached across the console and rested her hand on his. “He’s going to be alright.”

  Owen looked down at the radio, fought the urge to speak first. Instead, he glanced back at his children, offered an even grin, and nodded. “Yeah, he’ll be fine.” And then back to Natalie he whispered. “What the hell’s taking so long?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. But that man, he didn’t have to help.”

  “That’s not a reason to trust him.”

  Natalie squeezed his hand. “I know what you’re thinking, but for now he’s all we have. Let’s see if he does what he says.”

  Owen rubbed at his temples. “I’ll give it another—”

  “Owen.” It was Lucas. “We’re gonna pull to the end of the block and stop in front of the thirty-six-hundred building. Travis said he’ll go in and make sure they’re still here.”

  “How’s Kevin?”

  “He’s breathing, looks okay I guess.”

  “Put Travis on.”

  “He’s showing Harper and Cookie what they need to do. He said he’ll come to you when we stop.”

  “Let him know I’m going with him.”

  There were a few seconds of nothing and then the familiar squawk and then Lucas was back. He sounded rushed, now almost irritated. “He said we have to go.”

  The big black truck started forward, slow as it moved up the deserted street. Owen shifted back into drive and stayed only a second or two behind, continuing to watch the windows and doors of the buildings they passed.

  Natalie twisted to the back, smiled at her children. “Can you guys do me a favor, get down on the floor again?”

  Ava released her seatbelt and was down on the floor almost before Natalie had finished asking. She quickly turned and looked up to Noah. “Hurry up.” It was the first time she’d spoken in the last hour, and as they rolled up to the building with the grey marble exterior, she pulled at her brother’s leg. “Come on.”

  Owen keyed the radio again, but as he began to speak, the rear passenger door of the pickup shot open. The man who’d introduced himself as Travis Higgins leapt out onto the street and began to jog as he crossed the sidewalk. He held a pistol in his right hand and moved in a straight line toward a metal roll-up door twenty feet from the entrance.

  There wasn’t time for questions or for him to explain why he was doing what he was about to do. Only time to kiss Natalie on the cheek and follow the man he wasn’t sure he completely trusted.

  Owen slammed a fresh magazine into the Glock and jumped out.

  Around the side of the truck, Owen took a quick glance into the rear cab. Harper was nearest the door, cradling Kevin’s head against her chest. She looked up for a brief moment, met his eyes, offered a half-hearted smile, and then turned away.

  Ahead, Travis had reached the roll-up door and rapped the edge of the frame three times with his fist. He then backed away and when Owen was within ten feet, he held up his hand. “Wait there.”

  “You sure about these people?”

  “No.” He paused a moment. “And you’re gonna need to leave your gun in your waistband.”

  Owen cocked his head to the right, narrowed his eyes. “No, you’re not sure?”

  “They’re a family, just like you and yours. But they’re also out here trying to survive. They aren’t going to take any chances, but right now they’re all you have.”

  “Oh really?”

  “Your friend’s okay for the moment, but his shoulder, that wound, it isn’t going to stop bleeding without a little intervention. So, just work with me here.”

  Owen looked past Travis. There were muffled voices and then movement behind the large steel door. It sounded like heavy shop equipment being pushed aside. Metal against concrete. “How do you know them? How do you know they can help or that they even want to?”

  Travis took another step back, turned away from Owen, and also stared at the door. He held his hands out at his sides, palms up, and motioned for Owen to do the same. “Let me talk to him first. He’s probably not going to be happy to see me, especially if you come out of the gate with a ton of questions.”

  Owen matched Travis’s stance, although he felt more anxious than awkward. Something was telling him that this may have been a mistake, all of it. “You brought us here. My wife, my children, my friends.”

  “Yeah?” Travis sounded as though he was only half listening.

  Owen let his hands down, started to reach for the Glock. “You’d better hope this goes well, I’ve trusted you with just about everything.”

  The man in the black t-shirt whipped his head around, closed the gap, and looked into Owen’s eyes. “No, you haven’t. You haven’t trusted anything I’ve done since I fired on those men that were about to murder you and your friends. But you need to start.”

  Owen didn’t respond.

  “If I can’t convince this man to help your friend, he’s going to die. Probably before morning, and there won’t be a damn thing you or I can do to stop it. So for now, at least for the next few minutes, I need you to keep it inside. Just let me handle this.”

  As Travis turned back and his voice faded into the sound of metal rollers sliding through their tracks, a man appeared just inside the doorway. He looked to be in his early to mid-forties, greying beard, deep brown eyes, and a shaggy mop of dark hair. He wore light blue coveralls, and black leather boots.

  And he didn’t look like he was having a very good day.

  “Higgins.”

  Travis offered the slightly larger man a single nod. “Paul, I’m sorry, but I didn’t have a choice. These people need help.”

  The man with the brown eyes and the thick grey beard quickly raised his right hand and extended his index finger. He waited for Travis to go quiet, then stepped into the threshold, and peered out over the street. “I thought I told you never to come back here.”

  65

  Gentry locked the slider, drew the shades, and moved to the kitchen. He didn’t like being here. Not because his friend had already moved on, and as such, hadn’t specifically given him permission to be here—that would have been implied given the current state of the world, at least that’s what he was telling himself.

  No, he was having trouble with this location simply because she wasn’t here. And although he had a pretty good idea of where she was, he couldn’t be absolutely sure. No point in running off into the unknown without at least some sense of where he was headed.

  He didn’t trust many people, even less over the last two weeks. But she was different. More like him in all the ways that mattered most. She had a stable sense of calm when things didn’t go the way she had hoped or even expected. Her exterior told a story of strength, confidence, and self-reliance. It made some nervous, others irritated. But not a single person had ever complained that they were unsure of where they stood with Natalie Mercer.

  Through the hall, into the
office, and now clutching the satellite phone, Gentry hoped he wasn’t too late. That she was still out there, that somehow she’d survived and had found a safe place to ride out the initial wave.

  Natalie knew enough about what this was, and about how to avoid the more problematic situations to give her and her family a slight edge. It wasn’t much, but it was better than running into the end of the world wearing a blindfold.

  The sat phone still held a charge. It was nearly full and although he had every intention of using it just once, he wasn’t sure this was the right time. He wasn’t sure last night, or yesterday, or the day before.

  Would the time ever be right? He didn’t know.

  Gentry turned away from the desk and moved to the living room. He’d visited this home at least a dozen times over the last two years, but only once in the last six months. It was different than he remembered. The tan suede sofas had been replaced with a more modern white leather. The seventy-inch flat screen LED television had been moved from its stand and was now mounted above the black granite fireplace.

  But that wasn’t it, there was something else missing or out of place, he just couldn’t put his finger on it. Something that gave him a weird feeling in his stomach.

  He moved around the sofa, leaned into the back, and held the phone in his left hand. Looking down at the three-inch screen, he thought about the many ways the conversation might progress. Not usually one to bend the truth, he was having a hard time imagining a scenario where anything he said would get him the information he needed without at least partially compromising his integrity.

  Just try to be someone else for the next five minutes.

  Before Gentry could talk himself out of it, he was dialing the number. There were only a handful he had memorized, and just one that he was actually willing to call. Putting the odds at less than fifty percent that anyone would actually pick up, he raised the phone to his ear and looked out over the kitchen.

  No turning back now.