Doomsday Anarchy

by Bobby Akart

  Ethan couldn’t breathe. He tried to crawl away, occasionally looking up for someone, anyone, to come to his aid. He was alone except for the pack of attackers, who were driven insane by the blood gushing out of Ethan’s mouth.

  Suddenly, the large man stopped kicking him. Instead, he grabbed Ethan by the jacket and stood him upright. He wrapped his arms under Ethan’s armpits and held him tight against his chest.

  The rest of the men took turns punching and kicking Ethan, battering the fifteen-year-old’s body beyond recognition. When the attack was over, his shoes and jacket were taken, as were his cell phone and the few dollars from his pockets.

  His body was left unconscious on the cold, dark concrete next to a dumpster in South Richmond, Virginia. Ethan Hightower’s day was done.

  Chapter 53

  Front Gate

  The Haven

  It was dark when Hayden pulled up to the front gate of the Haven. Several guards stood at attention with their weapons slightly raised. The appearance of her truck immediately placed them on alert. To assuage their apprehension, Hayden rolled down her window and yelled to the guards, “Don’t shoot. I’m Hayden Blount.”

  Alpha’s baritone voice bellowed back to her, “Foxy! It’s about time!”

  “Yeah, well, traffic was bad. How’re ya doin’, Alpha?”

  A flashlight lit up her face, and then another appeared at the passenger side of the Range Rover, drawing an angry hiss from an inhospitable Prowler.

  “Just fine,” he responded as he stopped just short of sticking his head in her window.

  Hayden immediately cautioned him. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Prowler didn’t take too kindly to the last guy who stuck his head through a window. There are still pieces of his face inside here.”

  Alpha let out a hearty laugh. “Yeah, sure. From that furball.”

  Hayden shrugged and leaned back in her seat. “Okay, big guy. Go ahead. Give it a try. Stick your head in and try to grab me.”

  By this point, Prowler was in full defensive mode and was standing on the passenger seat with his back arched. Alpha wisely chose not to test Prowler’s mettle.

  He declined. “Nah, it’s too late to wrestle cats. We haven’t gotten much sleep around here.”

  “Have you had trouble?” she asked, looking ahead impatiently, as she was ready to find her cabin and curl up under the covers.

  “No, not really. We’ve had a few issues, but nothing we couldn’t handle. I hate to have you do this, but we’ve got a protocol to follow, you know. I need you to step out of the truck while we do a quick search.”

  “I get it,” said Hayden as she noticed a guard approaching her vehicle with a German shepherd on a leash. “Who’s that?”

  “That’s Rex, one of our bomb-sniffing dogs.”

  “Seriously? Bomb-sniffing.”

  “Not really, although maybe. He was a former law enforcement K-9. One of two trained dogs here at the Haven now. Um, you might want to keep Prowler safe.”

  Now it was Hayden’s opportunity to burst out laughing. “From that?” she asked, pointing at the shepherd. “It’s the other way around, trust me.”

  She motioned for Prowler to join her, and he quickly made his way across the console and crawled into her arms. As she walked past Alpha, Prowler’s eyes lowered and glared at the large man.

  “Jeez, he is a killer, isn’t he?” asked Alpha.

  “You bet he is.”

  Hayden waited patiently until Alpha’s team gave him the thumbs-up. “Okay, Foxy, you’re good to go. I’ll let Ryan and Blair know you’ve arrived. She said you guys were on a call when something went down.”

  “Yeah, and somehow I stomped on my phone during the melee. Let her know I’m here and safe. I assume we still have our regular morning briefings at the barn?”

  “Absolutely,” replied Alpha. “Bring your weapons and ammo, and we’ll get them secured for you. Plus, we’ve picked up some new artillery since we saw each other last. We’ll get you checked out on it tomorrow sometime. Obviously, we’ve had to limit our range practice due to circumstances.”

  Hayden and Alpha bumped fists. It was a rite of passage that occurred every time she’d come to the Haven. It was the point where she transitioned from being Hayden Blount, the president’s legal counsel, to Foxtrot, one of the defenders of the Haven.

  She loaded Prowler back into the truck and made her way down the dark gravel roads. The tires crunched on the melted and then refrozen snow. As she passed the cabins on the main drive, she noticed lights were on inside almost all of them. Her remaining headlight reflected off the license plates from many states east of the Mississippi, from Florida to New York. She rounded a bend, and then the sight of one particular vehicle caused her to slam on the brakes, forcing Prowler to dig his claws into the leather seats to stop from tumbling onto the floorboard of the truck.

  “Well, would you look at that?” she asked as she stared at the GMC Yukon with the blood-red-painted hood. “Hello, and Godspeed to you, too.”

  Chapter 54

  Front Gate

  The Haven

  Richmond SWAT eventually showed up at the intersection near the Rankin home, and the enemy combatants who’d squared off for nearly an hour fled in all directions. Even the Guardian Angels, who ordinarily were praised by law enforcement for their nonviolent approach to neighborhood watch, decided not to stick around for the inevitable questioning by police. In anticipation of a dangerous physical confrontation with the various factions brought together to wreak havoc on Richmond, many of the members wielded weapons ranging from stun guns to pepper spray. They did not, however, break out their firearms.

  After the uproar subsided, Tyler approached his vehicles, full of apprehension. He’d prepared himself for the worst case, which included his new truck being vandalized and his belongings stolen. When he arrived at the truck-trailer combination, he shook his head in disbelief. Through it all, his trucks hadn’t received so much as a scratch.

  The family had packed everything they thought they’d need, and Tyler expertly loaded the vehicles, maximizing every available square foot of space. Tyler and Angela focused on the basics—food, water, medical supplies, and bedding.

  They also packed small appliances and things that might come in handy in the event they would be there for an extended stay. The kids brought games, Tyler loaded up tools, and Angela focused on hygiene. As a doctor, she recognized that bacteria, if left unchecked, could be just as deadly as a bullet. Once their things were loaded, the family stood in the foyer and said goodbye to their home.

  It was near midnight, forty-eight hours after the attacks, when they pulled up to the front gate of the Haven. Before he addressed the guards, his mind wandered back to Richmond and those final moments in the home they loved.

  “Mom, do you think we’ll come back?” asked J.C.

  “Of course, honey. I hope this is temporary and I hate that we even have to do it. But nothing is more important than our family.”

  “I know, Mom,” said J.C. with a slight whine. “But all of our things are here, and Dad said the trucks are full.”

  Tyler placed his arm around J.C.’s shoulder and gave his son a squeeze. “Hey, no worries, buddy. We can replace things and houses. But we can’t replace Rankins.”

  Everyone allowed the statement to soak in for a moment, and without another word, they loaded up in the truck for their new adventure.

  Remarkably, unlike other travelers on that day, their trip south to Henry River Mill Village was uneventful. The oversized fuel tank gave Tyler plenty of gasoline to make the three-hundred-mile trek. Angela carefully monitored Tyler’s emergency radio and the Bearcat scanner to listen to first responders being dispatched. That enabled them to avoid the bedlam that had overtaken Durham, North Carolina. Taking back roads delayed their travels by about an hour, but at least they arrived alive.

  After a brief delay at the gate while the security team checked out their trucks, the Rankins pulled into thei
r cabin located on the bank of the Henry River. All of the lights were off in the nearby cabins except for the one immediately adjacent to them.

  “Look, we have a neighbor now,” began Tyler, pointing to their right as they made their way along the wet gravel road. “I never thought they’d sell that cabin to anyone.”

  “Why’s that, Dad?” asked Kaycee.

  “Supposedly, it’s haunted,” replied Tyler. “Your mom and I thought that would be kinda cool, but it was only a one bedroom, so we took the one next door instead.”

  “Yeah,” interjected a now wide-awake J.C., who’d slept the entire trip. “A ghost house would’ve been the best.” J.C. turned in his seat and slid onto his knees so he could crane his neck to look at the allegedly haunted cabin.

  “What do you think, Mom?” asked Kaycee.

  Angela looked in her side-view mirror at the dimly lit cabin and the black conversion van with trailer parked at its side. “Yeah, Peanut, I bet it’s full of spooks and boogeymen.”

  Chapter 55

  Haven House

  The Haven

  “Just another day in paradise, right?” asked Ryan as he tried to find a place in a bed full of girls. Invariably, he was the last one to make his way to bed at night. Once Blair had her spot and the two sixty-some-pound bulldogs staked their claim on the perfect place to sleep, Ryan had to make do with what was left. It was a game of Twister that he never tired of playing.

  “Ryan, I like Delta, I really do. But we don’t need this kind of drama.”

  “I understand.”

  “I mean, here’s the thing. I’m not a kid person, don’t get me wrong. And I get that he hasn’t had a lot of practice over the last couple of years. Still, shouldn’t he have made an effort to make sure his two offspring were safely tucked into bed at their cabin? It’s not like he lives twenty miles away, for Pete’s sake.”

  “Honey, I can’t disagree. We both suggested that he bring them to the house. Now I’ve got a problem. Ethan has run off, stealing a car in the process. That brings unwanted attention to the Haven from the sheriff.”

  Blair sat up in bed and gritted her teeth. “Not to mention that we don’t know where Delta’s head’s at. Cort was shooting straight with him, and I appreciate it. But will Delta follow the advice or resent his bluntness? And will he ask us to babysit Skylar while he gallivants off to Philly?”

  “I don’t know,” said a stressed Ryan.

  Blair wasn’t finished. “Plus, Ryan, what if he doesn’t come back? You’ve heard the stories from the Cortlands and Sheltons. It’s getting worse, and now it appears that some puppet master, or maybe several, is pulling the strings.”

  Ryan propped his head up on a pillow. “Like Leland Gaunt.”

  “Yes, for once you’re right, Mr. Smart.”

  Ryan fell back on the pillows and began to laugh. The girls both stretched and groaned a little bit. It was their way of politely telling their parents it was time to go to sleep.

  Ryan thought for a moment and then he said, “Sometimes, I hate it when I’m right.”

  Chapter 56

  X-Ray’s Cabin

  The Haven

  The only light in X-Ray’s cabin came from the bluish glow of his computer monitors. He’d sat there, staring mindlessly at the screen, for the better part of an hour. As Ryan had requested, he’d been compiling information from news sources around the country and creating a daily report of conditions on the ground, together with the government’s response. It was a logical task that needed to be performed, and X-ray was the right guy for the job.

  He did consider himself the right guy for his side job. When he’d received instructions from his benefactors just after his arrival at the Haven, he found the request to be odd and likely harmless. He didn’t know this Michael Cortland, and he didn’t even bother to research the name online. He was in the process of unpacking and setting up his gear, not to mention trying to assimilate into his new community.

  Now it appeared he’d been drawn into some kind of conspiracy. One that involved the chief of staff to a powerful senator. X-Ray looked through the Google images of Cort standing with his beautiful wife and daughter at various Mobile social functions. They were a loving family. Why is he anyone’s target?

  He swapped windows and studied the coverage of the downing of Delta Flight 322. The reporting focused on the death of Congressman Pratt and the impact his demise would have on impeachment proceedings against the president. There was no mention of a Michael Cortland being a survivor of the crash.

  Was the information given to him by Alpha false? Was Cortland not on the plane? Or was his name scrubbed from media attention for a reason?

  Besides all of that, X-Ray was genuinely bewildered as to how his handlers knew Cortland would be there in the first place.

  There were more questions than answers, and X-Ray’s head began to pound as he tried his best to compartmentalize what he knew. He considered leaving it be, chalking it up to much ado about nothing. Yet the coincidences were too great and the cryptic message he’d received earlier in the day was emphatic.

  Tell no one. Will advise.

  “When?” he shouted the question aloud, instantly covering his mouth as if he’d just yelled Fire! in a crowded movie theater.

  X-Ray stood and wandered about his small cabin. He ran his fingers through his hair and wished he’d smuggled a bottle of gin into the Haven. A Tanqueray and tonic would hit the spot, he thought to himself as the burner phone in his pocket came to life, vibrating relentlessly.

  He quickly pulled the phone out of his pocket and flipped it open. He pushed the select key to change the display to the text function. He read the message and then collapsed back into his swivel office chair.

  Beware of those around you.

  All is not as it might seem.

  Godspeed, Patriot.

  MM

  “What?” he shouted again. “Beware of who? You? Jesus!”

  In a rare show of anger and raw emotion, X-Ray flung the phone across the room, where it careened off a lampshade and landed safely on the leather couch in front of the fireplace, its light-blue screen continuing to illuminate despite the attempt to kill it.

  THANK YOU FOR READING DOOMSDAY: ANARCHY!

  If you enjoyed it, I’d be grateful if you’d take a moment to write a short review (just a few words are needed) and post it on Amazon. Amazon uses complicated algorithms to determine what books are recommended to readers. Sales are, of course, a factor, but so are the quantities of reviews my books get. By taking a few seconds to leave a review, you help me out and also help new readers learn about my work.

  And before you go…

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  VISIT Amazon.com/BobbyAkart for more information on the Doomsday series, the Yellowstone series, the Lone Star series, the Pandemic series, the Blackout series, the Boston Brahmin series and the Prepping for Tomorrow series totaling thirty-plus novels, including over twenty Amazon #1 Bestsellers in forty-plus fiction and nonfiction genres. Visit Bobby Akart’s website for informative blog entries on preparedness, writing, and a behind-the-scenes look into his novels.

  www.BobbyAkart.com

  READ ON FOR AN EXCERPT from DOOMSDAY: Minutemen, the next installment in the Doomsday series.

  Excerpt from

  DOOMSDAY: Minutemen

  Prologue

  One Summer day at Yale, 1984

  Late Afternoon

  New Haven, Connecticut

  Secret societies have existed since the dawn of man—rituals, partnerships, alliances, clubs, and organizations whose activities were generally concealed from non-members. It should come as no surprise that Americans have created hundreds of secretive organizations since the days of the early settlors.

  Early on, these clandestine groups were largely political in nature as the early colonists sought a means
to break free from the grasp of British rule. The American Revolution had been centuries in the making. Successful revolutions never begin overnight. Beginning with the early settling of the new world and the attempts to colonize Roanoke Island in 1585, the Seeds of Liberty, the important stones that were laid into the foundation of American freedom and independence, had been sewn.

  Another secretive society was formed in 1832 at Yale University. A disagreement among collegiate debating teams resulted in a gathering of the school’s class valedictorian, along with fourteen others, to become the founding members of The Order of the Scull and Bones, later modernized to Skull and Bones.

  The exclusive Order of Skull and Bones existed only at Yale. For nearly two centuries, new Bonesmen, as they were called, were initiated into the secretive society. The seniors in the group tapped fifteen juniors at the university, literally, in a ritual evidenced by a tapping on the shoulder and a nod of the head. These select few became Bonesmen.

  The family names of former Bonesmen were historically notable—Vanderbilt, Bush, Rockefeller, Goodyear, Taft, Weyerhauser, Kellogg, and Trowbridge. The Order of Skull and Bones helped one another to greatness in America, rising to become influential leaders in business, as Supreme Court Justices, and presidents.

  From the beginning of its formation, the Order was under attack from professors who objected to its secrecy and from fellow students who claimed the Bonesmen enjoyed financial perks and educational favoritism.