The Next World Box Set [Books 1-3]

by Olah, Jeff

  “I’m here.”

  “We’re pulling in, just have to work our way through the lot. We’ll come in on your right, stay put.”

  Owen slid up in his seat, the pain along the left side of his head returning like a thunder strike. He instinctively reached for his injury, but was stopped by Travis.

  “Hey buddy were almost there, you need to sit back.”

  Travis was right. There was a ringing in his ears, faint but growing. His stomach was turning over and his vision seemed to be fading into a grey haze. “Where … are we?”

  Travis gripped his hand, began to squeeze. “He’s going out, we need to get there, like right now.”

  The trucked drifted right, to Owen it felt like they were going up onto two wheels. “Is Nat here? I need to talk to her.”

  Travis pounded the back of the passenger seat. “Let’s go.”

  “Get Lucas back, tell him to have everything ready.” Kevin sounded like he did the day he was shot. The same tone, but more awake. “Let Gentry know what we’ve got.”

  “You sure? What about Natalie, the kids?”

  “We don’t have the time to sugar-coat this one, and they’re going to get the full picture in less than a minute anyway.”

  Three seconds of just the tires against the road, and then Travis turned to look through the windshield. “Lucas, have Gentry get ready. Owen’s hurt, and he’s gonna need some help right when we pull up.”

  The radio went quiet for a count of three, and then there was another voice. “Owen?”

  It was Natalie. Although only one word, her voice broke, sounded like she had forgotten how to pronounce the one name that meant more to her than anything left in this world.

  Owen curled forward, attempting to reach for the walkie. It felt like the left side of his head had its own heartbeat, but pulsing much deeper and faster than it should. “Natalie, tell her …”

  Owen closed his eyes. The pounding in his head quickly dropped away and he felt like he was being pulled backward through the darkened interior of the pickup. His mouth tasted of copper and the low buzz in his ears now blotted out everything around.

  “Hey,” Travis said, “Owen’s losing it, he’s goin’ out.”

  Kevin turned right at the last row of abandoned vehicles, crammed the gas pedal into the floorboard, and eyed his friends fifty yards away. “Alright, be ready to get him out and into the back.” And then looking from Zeus as he lay motionless in his lap to Owen through the rearview mirror, he lowered his voice to a whisper. “Come on damn it, fight. Just give me one more minute.”

  108

  Natalie was running.

  She was leaning forward, pumping her arms and begging her legs to move faster. Her heart raced and her mouth was dry. She felt light headed and was out of breath, but not from the brief exertion or the previous nightmare exiting the Italian restaurant.

  No this was something else. Something like fear, but on a level she couldn’t quite explain. Not to her friends, not to her children, and not even to herself. The thought of losing Owen and what that would mean in this new world was something that she didn’t think she could come back from.

  The truck skidded to a stop twenty feet away, the rear tires throwing a pillar of dust in its wake. Three of the four doors opened at once, Travis exiting the rear cabin only slightly ahead of Kevin, who turned off the engine and avoided eye contact with her.

  “DOMINIC, LET’S GO!” Travis looked different, harder. Closed off. Like he did the first few weeks. His eyes were stained red, and the rope-like vein along the middle of his forehead had returned.

  From the opposite side of the pickup, a tall young man she thought she remembered from the sidewalk earlier that day cornered the bed and quickly moved in beside Travis. They spoke quietly and had their heads tilted into the cab.

  “On three,” Travis said, “Ready?”

  The tall man nodded.

  Travis responded in kind. “One …”

  Natalie’s pulse caught in her throat. It was … Oh no.

  It was Owen, his hand dropping out of the cab, grey and lifeless, as Travis tucked under his arms and the tall man reached for his legs.

  “Two …”

  Her knees were rubber and she forgot how to breathe. There was a sharp pain that started in her stomach and caused her to lurch forward.

  “Three.” Gentry moved by her as the tall young man slipped Owen’s lower half off the rear seat and followed Travis toward the bed of the truck. As they moved, Travis walked backward, but positioned himself alongside Owen’s head. He looked nervously back toward her and then at Gentry.

  He was shielding her, and probably her children from something, and at the moment she thought it better not to investigate. She needed to collect herself, for Noah and for Ava, but also for Owen and for the others. There would be time to fall apart, time to grieve, time to curse the world, but for now she had to get it together. She had to return to the old Natalie, the one who would rather seem cold and unemotional than look weak.

  Even if it was only for today.

  And as their father’s lifeless body was being lifted into the bed of truck, Ava and Noah now stood at her side. Noah on her right, his hands wrapped around her waist and Ava reaching for her hand.

  “Mom?” Noah’s voice rattled.

  Natalie used her free hand to wipe her face and sucked in a deep breath through her nose. “He’s going to be okay. Your father is the strongest man I know.”

  Ava squeezed her hand, kissed her shoulder, and looked up into her eyes. “He is, he’s gonna be okay.”

  Her daughter was trying to stay strong, trying to be brave, was trying to be the crutch she so desperately needed. And although it hadn’t completely turned her focus, it had given her a brief flicker of hope, a reason to move forward.

  At least for now.

  “Yeah, he’ll be fine.” She bent at the waist, pulled her children into a bear hug, and motioned back over her shoulder. “But how about we let Dr. Gentry help him, and we go wait back over there?”

  Harper slipped in behind Noah and took his hand. She eyed the pickup and then Natalie. “Go.”

  Natalie looked past Harper, toward the Italian restaurant and Lucas, her mind running off the rails. “But …”

  “Lucas secured the fences. We’re alone back here, safe for now. Go.”

  Natalie kissed Noah on the forehead, Ava on the side of the face. “You guys stay here with Harper.” She forced a devious grin. “I’m going to go yell at your father for something he didn’t do.”

  Noah looked up, his face a mess of despair and confusion. He turned to his sister, unsure of how to react, waiting, expecting. And when she finally allowed a smile to begin to form, he took her hand and released Natalie’s. “Okay Mom, go yell at Dad.”

  He smiled too.

  There was a flash as she started toward the truck when she pictured Owen being lifted out of the bed, his arms and legs slack, his eyes fixed on the sky, and the color draining from his face. She tried to change the image, attempted to see it another way, tried to think of something else, anything else. Whatever the outcome, she’d have to go through it, live in it, but for now she didn’t have to, for now she could believe what she’d told her children.

  “Please Owen … please.”

  Taking another deep breath in through her nose and slowly blowing it out, Natalie stepped to the side of the truck, told herself to hold it together, and looked over Travis’s shoulder.

  It was worse than she imagined, or maybe it was just all the blood and the fact that her husband already looked like he was gone. She didn’t know how to process what she was seeing, and although her first thought was to turn and walk away, to avoid having to see it actually happen, she stepped around Travis and leaned into the bed of the truck.

  “Is he …?”

  “No,” Travis said, “But he’s lost a whole lot of blood, we’re trying to—”

  That wasn’t the question she was asking, not even close. “
Is he going to be okay?”

  Gentry had cut Owen’s shirt away, and was tilting his torso first up onto his right side and then his left. He ran his hand over her husband’s back and along his side. “Where the hell is it?”

  Natalie stood on her toes and followed Gentry’s eyes and his hands. “Where is what?”

  He didn’t answer, instead the man who might save the world gripped Owen’s left wrist and pulled his arm up over his head. His expression changed in an instant. He nodded his head and narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, there it is.”

  Travis looked at Natalie, first shrugging his shoulders and then shaking his head. “What are we looking at Doc?”

  Gentry wiped his face with his shoulder and turned from Travis to Natalie. “He’s in shock. He’s lost more blood than I’m comfortable with, and he’s not out of the woods, not yet. But at least now we know what we’re working with.”

  Now she wanted to ask, she had to.

  To Gentry she said, “Is he … is he going to make it?”

  109

  Devin Fletcher stood near the driver’s door and watched as the man who was behind the wheel, Kevin he thought, jogged away from the truck, the massive German Shepherd in his arms. The man moved out away from the others, laid the animal on a small patch of grass, and sprinted back to a bag that lay open near the corner of the building.

  Devin dropped his own pack near the front wheel and turned toward the woman eight feet away. “I’m going to help that man, with the dog.”

  She only turned toward him for a brief second, her eyes glazed over, tears beginning to form. She appeared to stare right through him, and didn’t speak. She wiped at her eyes and just turned back.

  Devin assumed that the injured man was her husband, and although he thought he remembered her from nearly a year ago, he couldn’t recall her name. He thought it might have been Laura, or maybe Janet, but there wasn’t much else he could recall from the one and only time he had visited BXF Technologies. He was sure it was her, that they’d met, but for now it would have to remain a mystery.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Again, she didn’t respond or even seem to know he was there.

  He stood on his toes, quickly checked the perimeter, and started toward the man now on his knees, hunched over the German Shepherd. And as Devin came alongside, Kevin was speaking under his breath, but stopped.

  “You could use a hand.”

  Kevin was cradling the dog’s hind leg and brushing aside the blood-soaked fur. He looked up at Devin and then quickly back at the animal. His eyes were the same as the woman’s, but behind them a deep level of focus. “Uh …”

  “I can help.”

  Kevin didn’t respond.

  The dog let out a low whimper and gently pulled his leg away. Kevin ran his hand over the dog’s back and leaned forward to kiss him on the head. “You’re gonna be fine buddy, I promise.”

  “Is there anything you need, you want me to take a look at it?”

  Kevin again ran his hand over Zeus’s back and then down toward his injured leg. He paused a moment to see how the German Shepherd would react, and when Zeus only looked him over and laid his head on the grass, Kevin brushed aside the matted fur and leaned in close.

  There was a second or two where Devin thought he saw an entry wound, the German Shepherd’s flesh peeled back and the tissue beneath, a scorched mess. However, as he bent at the waist and moved in closer, he was able to make out the fine details and separate reality from the images his mind was trying to piece together.

  “He’s okay?”

  Kevin released Zeus’s leg and rocked back, blowing out a long breath as he reached for a bottle of peroxide and a thick roll of gauze. “Yeah, just a scratch. He’ll be fine.”

  Devin almost laughed. While it wasn’t a direct hit, and the bullet had only grazed the massive animal, it was far from a scratch. “Whatta ya need?”

  There was a different look to Kevin. It wasn’t joy, not excitement, but something close. Like he was told he had another chance at winning a race, or taking an exam he’d failed, or getting to relive the last twenty-four hours of a terrible day. There was a quiet determination that on one hand gave Devin a measured dose of relief, but on the other, scared the hell out of him.

  Kevin didn’t answer. Instead he peered off toward the group fifty yards away and then back at the truck. “Owen, my friend. Is he …”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean?” The larger man looked like he was going to jump out of his shoes, like he was expecting another answer.

  “He’s lost quite a bit of blood, but the doctor is trying to get him stable. It doesn’t look like he took any direct hits, probably just in shock.”

  Kevin went to work on Zeus’s leg, cleaning and dressing the wound. And as he did, he let out a short sigh and rolled his head from left to right. “You look familiar, why?”

  Devin wasn’t sure, but he figured he knew where this was headed. “Marcus Goodwin.”

  Kevin stopped for a second, again ran his hand over Zeus’s thick coat. “Okay, but how, why?”

  “You probably worked for him, right?”

  “For a time, you?”

  Even though the man working on the dog wasn’t looking at him, Devin still shook his head. “No.”

  “Then what?”

  “I’d rather not say.”

  Kevin finally turned. “Really? You came looking for us, remember.”

  “He was just someone I used to know, from a different time and a different life.”

  Kevin’s words were coming faster now, with less emotion, like he was losing interest or becoming irritated. “Everything was from a different time, a different life.”

  “Yeah, one I don’t really care to relive.”

  “Again, you came to us. And while my friends and I appreciate what you’ve done, we’re not going to twist your arm. We’re not going to make you stay. You’re free to go any time you—”

  “NO!” His voice came out louder than he expected, traveled further. The men by the truck and the children to his left all turned to look. “No, you and your friends, you all have to come with me, that’s why I’m out here.”

  110

  Owen could hear her voice, but his eyes didn’t seem to be working properly. His world smelled of copper and his throat felt like he’d swallowed a handful of razor blades.

  There were shapes, they looked human, but the pain drilling in from the left side of his head seemed to be playing with his focus. There were also no colors, only blacks and whites. Some lighter shades of grey and most everything coated in a hazy film.

  “He’s going to need more help than we can give him here.” The voice was familiar. It was Gentry. “He’s stable, but it won’t last.”

  The space above him grew dark. There was something or someone very close. “What does that mean, is he going to be okay?”

  Natalie. She sounded like she was in her element. It was only a few words, but he hadn’t heard that tone or inflection in more than a year, the last time he had decided to drop in on her at work. It meant that she was agitated or worried, or maybe both.

  “I don’t know,” Gentry placed his hand on Owen’s chest. “But like I said, right now he’s stable. I just need to get him back to the lab.”

  There were faces now, still blurry, but better than a minute ago. Nat, Gentry, and two others. He remembered being in the cab with Travis, and also the tall young man from the street. He blinked twice and began to raise his hand, wanted to get to that itch that was blooming behind his left ear.

  “He’s awake … wait, make sure he doesn’t … get his arm.”

  “Nat?”

  “Owen …” Her voice broke as she tried to continue. “Stay still baby, you need to rest.”

  “Okay, that’s good.” Gentry’s face was now in focus, the fine details coming clear. He looked older now, weathered. “Let’s get him in the truck.”

  “Wait.” Natalie moved from his left to his rig
ht, now face to face with Gentry. “You’re not serious?”

  “We don’t have a choice. I can’t do it here, and he won’t make it otherwise.”

  Owen understood their words, but was having a hard time piecing it all together. He now remembered being thrown to the pavement and the searing pain that caught fire to the side of his head, but just couldn’t get from there to here.

  He pushed his hands into the cool metal of the truck bed and tried to sit forward. The muscles in his left bicep quickly began to spasm and then buckled under the weight.

  Travis came in over him from the left. “Hold on buddy, we got you. Just take it easy.”

  Natalie had turned; she now stood between Gentry and Travis. The tall young man Owen remembered as Thomas stood back behind the others, almost out of his periphery.

  “What about those men,” Natalie was looking at Travis. “What if they come back, what if they’re there right now?”

  Travis had one hand on Owen’s shoulder and the other out at his side. “I have no idea, they took off pretty quick when that kid started firing. Looks like they ran back home, but there’s no way to know.”

  “We don’t have the time to discuss this. There aren’t any other options. We go now or he’s going to bleed out.” Gentry was holding his left arm. “This is only temporary, I have to get it cleaned and—”

  “Dr. Gentry?”

  There was someone out of view. Male, young. Probably not more than twenty-five or thirty, maybe younger. Definitely not Noah, and even a bit older than Lucas. The voice was well past puberty, but had a rasp to it.

  Gentry was still focused on Natalie, but turned slowly toward his name, almost like he hadn’t heard it. There was a moment where it seemed that time had stopped. That those gathered around the bed of the pickup had been paused, their expressions a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

  They all stared in the same direction, as Gentry finally broke free and tilted his head ever so slightly to the right. “Devin … Devin Fletcher, is that you?”