Atomic Threat Box Set [Books 1-3]

by Bowman, Dave

  Charlotte turned to her with widened eyes. "I think so."

  Annie sat quietly, trying to calm her shakiness.

  "I'm sorry," she said. "Everything just got out of control back there."

  Charlotte nodded uneasily. Then she looked up and saw a large brick home perched on a hill off the highway to the left. "Is that it?"

  Annie glanced up at the house. "That's it."

  They had just passed the driveway. Annie put the car in reverse and backed up to where the front of the vehicle was in line with the gravel entrance. She came to a stop, staring at the house.

  It looked empty, but they were a few hundred yards away and too far to get a good look. Annie glanced at the SUV that had been abandoned in the middle of the road nearby.

  "Well, are we going to go in?" Charlotte asked wearily.

  Annie nodded. "Yeah, but I don't like that SUV."

  Charlotte scoffed. "I don't like it either, because we nearly ran off the road dodging it. But does that mean we have to sit here staring at it?"

  Annie studied the vehicle, noting its polished exterior and luxury finishes. "They broke down out here when the EMP hit."

  "Yeah. So?"

  "Where did they go when they left the car behind?"

  Charlotte swallowed, looking back at the SUV. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, then looked up at the house.

  "You think they're inside?" Charlotte asked in a whisper.

  Annie glanced down at the pistol.

  “I guess we’re about to find out,” she said.

  Finally, she shifted the car into first gear and began to climb the long driveway.

  She was tired of running. She was going to face whatever came her way head on. It was her husband's house, after all. No one else had any right to be there. She wasn't going to cower away from any squatters.

  She would get them off the ranch, or die trying.

  "You wait here," she told Charlotte. "I'm going to check the place out first."

  Annie grabbed the pistol and got out of the car. She took a long look at the house, then walked up to the front door. It was locked.

  With her heart pounding, she edged along the front yard toward the barn in the back. She knew her .22 was no match for a larger gun, and certainly not multiple guns. But she pushed herself on.

  The barn was just as it had been left last time. She walked in to the large, open structure and headed for a small tackle box on a shelf. Rummaging through the odds and ends, she came upon the key that was kept hidden in the box. Placing it in her palm, she clenched it tightly as she returned to the house.

  Fear was beginning to cloud her judgment now, and she considered getting in the car and driving off.

  No, you're not going to run away this time.

  She unlocked the door, and stepped into the dark, quiet house.

  "Hello!" she called.

  Her voice echoed through the halls.

  She walked through the living room and kitchen. So far, nothing was out of place. She went upstairs, checking each bedroom.

  The house was empty.

  She walked toward the window in the master bedroom and looked outside where the SUV was stranded on the highway.

  The driver must have walked somewhere else when they broke down. Maybe they lived nearby, and they had been able to make it home.

  Finally, something had gone right.

  Annie knew she should go down and get Charlotte, but she couldn't resist collapsing in the bed for just a moment.

  She had finally made it.

  She had finally reached freedom. She felt her body loosen its knots – all the tight spots she hadn't even realized she had been carrying the last few days.

  But as the tension began to gradually fade, sadness took its place. Jack wasn't there.

  Swallowing the lump forming in her throat, she pushed herself to her feet and went downstairs.

  Outside the house, Charlotte looked at her expectantly.

  "All clear!" Annie announced.

  Charlotte looked relieved. She opened her car door and Annie helped her to her feet. As Charlotte slowly hobbled inside the house, Annie brought the luggage inside.

  Charlotte looked around the living room and the stairs that led to the bedrooms on the second floor. "If you don't mind, I'd rather not tackle the stairs just yet."

  "I don't mind at all," Annie said, helping her friend to lie down on the couch. "You can sleep here for now."

  Annie finished bringing their things inside, then retrieved a large first aid kit from the bathroom.

  "Time to change your dressings," Annie said as she sat on the floor at Charlotte's side.

  As Annie worked, she answered Charlotte's questions about the house and the area. Charlotte had never spent much time in the Hill Country.

  "All done," Annie said as she collected the empty bandage wrappers. "Your wounds are still pretty raw. But hopefully you'll be able to heal better now that we're in a more stable place."

  Charlotte smiled. "Thanks, Annie. And thanks for bringing me out here. I may not always agree with your methodology, but I have to hand it to you. You got us out here when I never thought it was possible."

  Annie smiled back at her friend. "You're welcome. Thanks for coming along for the ride."

  She collapsed in the recliner nearby, curling her legs up. She glanced at Charlotte, who looked considerably less stressed. But Annie couldn't help noticing a sadness on Charlotte's face. They had fought so hard to get here, but their struggles were far from over. Charlotte knew just as well as Annie did that they weren't fully prepared to defend themselves.

  Annie looked out the window at the magnolia tree in the front yard. She remembered Jack's childhood stories about playing with his brother, Paul, around that tree.

  "Jack's going to get here," Charlotte said. "It might take him a while, but he'll show up. He loves you too much not to find a way."

  Annie nodded. "I know," she said quietly.

  Feeling tears welling up, she closed her eyes shut.

  Unfortunately, love wasn't always enough. Maybe things in LA had gotten out of control. As painful as it was, Annie couldn't live her life waiting for Jack to return. No matter how much it hurt, she would have to find a way to carry on without him.

  32

  "Where is she?" Brent asked nervously as he rode in the Bronco through the dark streets.

  Jack scanned the left side of the road as he drove. "She couldn't have gotten very far."

  "Naomi!" Brent called toward a cluster of buildings off to the side. Scattered prisoners moved across the parking lot, but none of them responded to Brent's call.

  Jack knew they needed to flee the area quickly. There were still guards roaming about. Though the fighting had quieted down somewhat, gunshots still echoed through the town all around them. He turned down a side street where he saw several prisoners escaping to the east.

  He spotted a petite woman running across the street, driven by fear and urgency.

  Could it be her?

  They were still too far away to tell. Jack picked up speed as the woman crossed the street and began to run down the sidewalk.

  As he drove the truck closer, the woman turned around to glance at the approaching vehicle. The headlights shone across her face.

  "It's her!" Brent said. "Naomi!"

  The woman stopped, and Jack got a better look at her. Brent was right. They had finally found Naomi.

  She stared at the Bronco, bewildered and blinded by the headlamps. Jack drove forward a bit, then came to a stop as Brent leaned out the window.

  "It's us!" Brent exclaimed. "Get in!"

  Recognition and relief washed over her face, and she lunged at the backseat door. She opened it and flung herself inside. Jack took off as she slammed the door shut.

  Brent twisted around and grinned at her. Jack looked at her in the rearview mirror. She was shaken, but smiling. She sat there, catching her breath and taking it all in.

  "I can't believe we found you!" Brent
said. "They've got at least three women's prisons. We’ve been all over town searching for you."

  "I can't believe it either!" Naomi said. "But how did you get out? They took you to C Block, Jack – how did you possibly escape? And how did you get this truck?"

  "We're not out yet," Jack said. "We still have to make it out of this town without being shot."

  Brent swiveled around to face the front and returned to his vigil at the window. "All I can say is, it was hell," Brent said in response to Naomi’s questions as he readied himself.

  "Are you okay, Naomi?" Jack asked, glancing at her in the mirror again.

  Naomi nodded. "I think so. All things considered."

  Jack continued east. As they crossed a main thoroughfare, a commotion to the south caught their attention. Another prison breakout was happening in the large hotel several blocks to the right.

  Prisoners were attacking the guards. Jack saw several men running out from the hotel, whooping and hollering as they ran to freedom.

  Everywhere in White Rock, the captured were breaking free. The momentum Jack had started by escaping, and what he and Brent had continued by attacking the guards, had started an uprising. Jack knew the gang's time was up. They were rapidly losing their strongholds and their power with every passing minute. Soon, justice would be restored to the city, in one way or another.

  After a few blocks heading east through a residential neighborhood, Jack turned left, to the north.

  "We've got about a mile till we get to the interstate," Jack said, focusing on the road. "They might have guards posted at the interstate trying to keep us from leaving the city, so everyone be ready. Get down as much as you can."

  As they came within a few blocks of the interstate, Jack tensed up once more. Next to him, Brent steadied his rifle.

  "Look! They're running away!" Naomi said from the backseat.

  And sure enough, a band of a about fifteen guards were running underneath the interstate overpass, toward the devastated downtown area.

  "They're escaping!" Brent said, frustrated. "Shouldn't we go after them? We can't let them get away. Not after everything they've done to us."

  Jack watched them scurry away. Some of them were carrying a rifle or a handgun, but most of them had no weapons he could see. They were trying to make a clean break, and they looked over their shoulders as they ran.

  "No," Jack said, shaking his head. "We made it this far. Let's not press our luck."

  "Good point," Brent said. He remained vigilant as they turned toward the interstate and climbed the on-ramp.

  "Looks like C Block is on fire," Jack said. He glanced down to see the motel that had served as his prison going up in flames.

  "They're burning down a few other buildings, too," Brent said.

  They all looked down toward the city, which was erupting in chaos. Several houses in the upscale residential neighborhood, where the gang's headquarters had been kept, were being consumed by fires. People ran in every direction – some escaping to freedom, and others searching for safety from the fire and the escaped prisoners. A few vehicles drove through the city and headed toward the interstate.

  "So long, White Rock," Naomi said quietly from the backseat.

  The Bronco accelerated quickly as they took one more look at the city. To the left, Jack saw the devastation of the downtown buildings with its blackened piles of rubble. To the right, the gang's operation was rapidly falling apart.

  They drove east on the highway, covering mile after mile until they could see no trace of the city any longer.

  33

  "Please?" Heather asked her brother as she held a bowl of soup toward him. "Can't you eat just a little more?"

  Brody shook his head slightly, refusing the food. "No thanks. I don't think I could keep it down."

  Standing on the other side of the bed, Myra fidgeted nervously. "Oh, is your nausea back?"

  Brody closed his eyes and nodded.

  Heather and Myra exchanged a worried look. Brody had been in bed all day. He had eaten very little, complaining of nausea and dizziness.

  Myra brought her hand to her son’s forehead. "He's burning up again," she said to Heather.

  Myra reached for the damp washcloth and placed it on Brody's forehead. She began to caress his head, but a clump of hair came loose in her hands. Alarmed, she stared at the handful of hair in her palm, then set it down on the nightstand.

  "Katie?" Brody asked, his eyes still closed.

  "She's still outside," Myra said. "I can go try to bring her up here if you want."

  "Please."

  Myra exchanged another worried glance with Heather, then she turned and walked out of the room with slumped shoulders. Heather set the bowl of soup down and looked at her brother. When Katie had seen her father that morning, she had run off outside, disappearing for hours.

  Myra had finally found her earlier that day in the tallest branches of a tree at the edge of the front yard. The teenager, so disturbed by the sight of her seriously ill father, had refused to come down.

  "Isn't there anything we can do, Brody?" Heather asked, leaning on the side of the bed.

  Brody swallowed. "If I start to get weird again, don't let her see me like that. Okay?"

  "Okay," Heather agreed.

  Around noon, Brody had become delirious. He had completely lost touch with reality. He had spent an hour or two babbling incoherently, talking to his dead wife as if he could see her in the room. Myra and Heather had watched on anxiously, relieved that Katie hadn't been there to see it.

  Then, when his temperature dropped a little, he had started to make sense again. But the episode had exhausted him, and he was left even weaker than before. His color had turned a more sickly shade of gray, and his eyes were bloodshot and heavily ringed with dark circles. His hands, when he could lift them, had a heavy tremor. And his voice was weak and shaky.

  Heather was exhausted, but the concern for her brother pushed her on. She was frustrated with the hopelessness of the situation. If only there was something she could do for him! All she could do was sit by his side and watch him waste away, growing a little weaker by the hour.

  Myra pulled her sweater around her as she walked to the edge of the yard. The sky had clouded over, turning the early fall day chilly. She spotted Katie perched on a long, sweeping branch of the old oak tree near the fence. The leaves had just started to change color, tingeing some of the green leaves with a golden yellow. Memories of autumns past flashed through Myra’s mind as she looked at the tree.

  "Your father liked to sit on the same branch when he was a kid," Myra called as she drew near. She came to a stop underneath the tree and looked up at Katie, whose face was tear-stained. “Annie, too. You look so much like your aunt up there.”

  "I'm not going in there!" Katie announced, crossing her arms over her chest. “I can’t! I don't want to see him like that."

  Myra peered upward, straining to find sight of the teenager through the tangle of branches and leaves. "Can you please come down here and talk to me?" Myra asked. "It's kind of hard to have a conversation like this."

  Katie sighed, then nodded. "Okay, I’ll come down."

  Myra watched as her granddaughter nimbly lowered herself from branch to branch, then jumped from the lowest joint of the tree and hit the ground unharmed. Katie took a seat in the grass and leaned her back against the truck of the old oak tree, pulling her knees in to her chest.

  Myra lowered herself to the ground and sat next to Katie, groaning slightly as she bent. Her knees were acting up again, though she’d hardly had any time to even notice.

  "You know your father loves you very much," Myra began. "He’s up there asking for you, Katie. He wants to see you."

  Katie turned her face and looked off toward the foothills to the north. At the higher elevations, the leaves had already turned deep yellow and orange, and the hills looked like they were on fire.

  "I know how hard this is for you," Myra said softly, brushing Katie’s hair out
of her face. "It's hard for us all to see him like this, but you’re his daughter. I know you’re in terrible pain. I don't know everything you're going through, but I can imagine."

  Katie frowned. "This wasn't supposed to happen," she said, still looking away.

  "I know it wasn't. None of this was. It’s all just . . . like a horrible dream. And there’s not much we can do but try to be there for each other as best we can."

  "But he was better yesterday!" Katie insisted. "How could this happen again? How could he be riding his bike yesterday, and look totally normal, and then be stuck in bed again today? I thought it was just the flu! I thought he was going to get better!"

  Myra sighed. "I know, I know. We were all so hopeful. We all wanted him to be better. But I guess sometimes people rebound a little as their body fights an illness, then it just comes back stronger than ever. And this radiation sickness – it's something I've never seen before. We were unprepared for it. We just didn't know what to expect."

  "I hate this. I wish he'd never gone outside that day."

  "I understand. All these years, he wanted to do right by you, and for the most part, he has. He's always been there for you. He's always been there for everyone."

  Katie exhaled sharply. "That's what got him into this mess in the first place. He was all worried about that little kid."

  Myra nodded. "I understand you're angry at him. He made a mistake. He meant well, but it turned out to be a horrible mistake that he can't fix. And more than that – you're angry at the world right now. None of this is fair."

  "It's not fair at all!" Katie snapped. "All of my friends have both their parents. I don't have a mother, and now . . . "

  "I'm so sorry, Katie," Myra said tenderly. "You've been through so much. I wish I could make everything better for you."

  Katie was silent for a moment, then she turned to look at her grandmother. Tears were brimming in her eyes. "He looked so . . . gray. He looked so sick, and weak. Like an old man. He didn't look like my dad. I – I just don't think I can see him like that."

  Myra put her arm around Katie's shoulders and drew the girl in.