THE END - Book I - Of THE EVENT SERIES

by Marshall Huffman

  “Absolutely. If the circumstances call for it, you bet.”

  “I’m not sure I could.”

  “You will do what you have to when the time comes. We all do. Anyway, I doubt it ever becomes an issue but I just want us to be ready for whatever happens to crop up.”

  “Still, I feel kind of silly with two guns but if you think it’s best, that’s good enough for me. What about shells?”

  “Bullets. Shells are for shotguns.”

  “Whatever,” she said taking the box from him.

  He loaded the clips for her as she read the pamphlet that came with the gun. Once again, he was reminded about the difference between men and women. It never occurred to him to read the instructions that came with the gun.

  “Maybe I should practice a little tomorrow,” she said, getting a feel for the gun.

  “I think that would be a good idea. I doubt anyone will complain,” he said.

  Rachel stood up and said, “I think I will call it a night. We will have a lot to do tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be in after a while. I’m just going to sit here a little longer.”

  “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight Rachel. New adventures tomorrow,” he said as she went back inside and up to her room.

  ****

  Randy lay back on the porch with his hands under his head. It was getting pitch black as the sun finally set. No moon or stars could shine through the dense clouds that continued to swirl overhead. Every day had looked like it was going to rain but nothing happened.

  He tried not to think about his fiancée. He had already accepted the fact that she was probably dead along with his family. Rushing to see if they were alive was an exercise in futility as he was pretty certain of their fate.

  The area they had been diving in was just south of French Lick, Indiana. Both he and Rachel lived in Bloomington, Indiana so they could stop and check on their families on their way to Indianapolis. He wondered how Rachel would handle it. It was one thing to have something in your mind but another to actually confront the situation. He would have to try to prepare her for whatever they found. Before he realized it, he drifted off to sleep.

  “Randy? Randy are you still out there?” Rachel said.

  It was so dark she couldn’t tell if he was on the porch or not. She had checked his room and found that he was not in the bed.

  “Randy,” she yelled.

  “What? What?” he said, sitting up startled.

  “Thank goodness. You weren’t in your bed. I was worried that something might have happened to you,” she said.

  “I’m fine. I guess I fell asleep. What time it?”

  “Four thirty.”

  “Wow. I guess I was more tired than I realized. Why aren’t you sleeping?” he asked.

  “I did for a while but I was just tossing and turning most of the night. I was thinking about my family,” she said.

  “I know what you mean. I did the same thing before I drifted off.”

  “They will be like all the others we saw won’t they?” she asked.

  He sat for several moments before answering.

  “I think we need to accept that in all likelihood they encountered the same fate,” he finally said, trying to choose his words carefully.

  “I know. What about Sandy?” she said, referring to his fiancée.

  “Gone. I have to accept the fact that she is probably dead. This isn’t like in the movies where the two somehow find each other and they are miraculously alright. She probably suffered the same fate as everyone else. It’s just that simple.”

  “How do you do it?”

  “What?”

  “Just accept it.”

  “What is my other option? Either I accept it or make myself crazy thinking about what happened to her. I can’t change what happened. I can try to hold on to my sanity and come to grips with it. I have always felt that the real test of a person’s character is how well they rebound from adversity. We all have bad things happen, but how quickly we come to grips with it and get back on track is the real test of fortitude. Sandy is probably gone. My mom is probably gone and everyone I love is more than likely dead. I can’t change any of that. What I can do is go on living. I have to just pull myself up by my boot straps and face it,” he said.

  She shook her head, “I’m not made like that. I miss my family. I can’t imagine never seeing them again,” she said.

  “What about Bloomington?”

  “What about it?”

  “When we get there. You need to expect the worst. Hoping that it will be alright isn’t going to make it any easier for you,” he told her.

  “I know but I can’t just blank it out either. I can’t do what you do. I can’t just shut off my feelings and say the hell with it. Life isn’t like that in my mind. Life is more than that. I don’t want them to be dead. I’m not ready for them to be out of my life,” she said.

  “Rachel, it’s not up to you. It never was. Life is a gift, not a right. When it is time, we can’t change that. Wanting something to be doesn’t make it so. Sandy died and I have to accept that. I would love to be wrong but I know in my heart I’m right. Wishing it wasn’t so won’t change a damn thing. I don’t want it and I certainly don’t like it but I have to deal with the facts,” he told her.

  “Sorry, I’m not wired that way.”

  “And that’s okay. We all handle these kinds of things in our own way.”

  They sat, not talking on the porch for several minutes. It was starting to get lighter.

  “Sun’s coming up,” Rachel said at last.

  “A new day begins. Let’s eat; the pasta was good but I’m starved.”

  “Omelet alright with you?”

  “Sounds great. I’ll get the maps and start laying out the route. I’m not even sure where the Lost World Cavern is, other than in West Virginia,” he said.

  Rachel made them ham and cheese omelets and brought them outside. Randy had the map spread out on the porch.

  “Find it?”

  “I think so. From what I can tell, it is just outside a small town called Lewisburg.”

  “That can wait. Eat while they’re hot,” she said, handing him a plate with a huge omelet.

  “Now that’s an omelet,” he said, taking the plate.

  “How far is it?” she asked between bites.

  “About four hundred and fifty miles from Bloomington,” Randy said.

  “I’ve been thinking about what you said. You’re right. I can’t change what happened and I’m going to have to let go at some point. It’s just hard now.”

  “I understand. It’s not a judgment about you. It’s just how I have to deal with things.”

  “What I’m staying is that we don’t have to go to Bloomington. We can just leave from here.”

  “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. I think you need closure and I’m not sure you can do that without at least checking it out for yourself,” Randy said.

  “No, I think I’ll be alright with it,” she said.

  “Leaving from here doesn’t really save us anything anyway. It is just as easy to leave from Bloomington as here,” he said.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Okay, if you’re sure.”

  “I am. We have to pick up I-65 and it isn’t that far from Bloomington.”

  “Then I don’t have to be so brave?”

  “Nope. Look, Rachel, we have been through a lot already and I am sure it is just the tip of the iceberg. We have to be honest with each other. You really need to go and check it out for yourself and I am totally fine with that,” Randy said.

  “Thanks.”

  “For what?”

  “For not making fun of me.”

  “You know me better than that. I understand it’s something you have to do and I’m totally cool with it.”

  CHAPTER

  TWELVE

  Cross Country to Washington DC

  Colonel Webber and Lieutenant Frankl
in flew along the interstates for much of the way across the Midwest. Webber had the pilot keep the plane under 1000 feet since he had no way of knowing what would happen if they ascended into the less dark, but still bizarre, cloud coverage. They still looked angry and he was concerned with wind shear.

  It became readily apparent that whatever event had caused the issues at Cheyenne Mountain was widespread. Cars and trucks littered the interstate and everything in the cities was at a standstill. Nothing was moving.

  During the trip across Iowa, Illinois, and Indiana they had seen several passenger and private planes that had crashed. The one thing they had not seen was anyone alive during all the miles they had covered.

  “We aren’t going to make it on gas. I was hoping we could get all the way to Washington,” Webber told Franklin over the headset.

  “Where do you have in mind?”

  “Any place you spot an airfield. We should come up on Dayton, Ohio fairly soon. They have an Air Force Base there that we can land at.”

  “I thought they closed the air base there,” Franklin said.

  “They did officially but the Ohio National Guard still operates out of the Rickenbacker International Airport.”

  “Sounds good. I could stand to take a leak and stretch my legs,” Franklin replied.

  “That sounds like a plan,” Webber agreed.

  They flew across the Indiana-Ohio border and followed I–70 dropping down to just five hundred feet above the ground and banked slightly toward the south. A few minutes later they spotted the city.

  “The airport is ten miles or so to the south of town. We should be able to see it with no trouble,” Webber said.

  “I think I see it just off to the right.”

  “Good eyes. That’s it. It seems strange to just land without getting permission from the tower.”

  “I don’t think too many other planes will be landing at the same time,” Franklin replied.

  “Hey, look over there,” Webber said pointing to the north side of the airfield.

  “Some poor bastard must have been taking off when it hit,” Franklin said, looking at the crumpled up aircraft.

  The plane had been a small private jet but it was impossible to tell what kind now. Webber lined the plane up on the main runway and lowered the flaps and landing gear. A large 747 cargo plane was sitting at the end of the runway. Franklin eased the Warhawk over the giant plane and touched down.

  “Hey, not bad for someone that hasn’t flown one of these before,” Webber said.

  “Like riding a bike,” Franklin replied. He allowed the plane to bleed off most of the speed before he applied the brakes.

  At the end of the runway he taxied back to the terminal area. Several trucks with Av-gas were sitting around the planes. He taxied up close to one of them and killed the engine. The two men climbed out and looked around. It was so strange to be standing among all the planes and equipment and to not hear a single sound.

  “Kind of spooky isn’t it?” Franklin said.

  “Oh yeah,” Webber agreed.

  “I gotta go take a leak.”

  “Don’t let me stop you. I’ll get started on the refueling. I want to get going as soon as we can. I don’t want to try to find Washington in the dark,” Webber said.

  “I’ll just be a few minutes,” Franklin replied, heading for the terminal.

  The Colonel started to pull the hose from the nearest truck but saw a problem immediately. It was a new one and that meant that the motor would probably not run. If it wasn’t running the pump wouldn’t work and they couldn’t fill the planes tanks.

  “Son of a bitch,” Webber muttered and started looking around for an older one.

  All the trucks up and down the line were newer. Their only hope was to locate an older one or rig some kind of way to get the gas into the wing tanks. When Franklin came back the Colonel was gone. He looked around but couldn’t see him anywhere. He started to panic and drew his sidearm.

  “What the hell happened to the Colonel,” he said to himself, looking in a full 360 degree circle.

  He jumped when Webber came up behind him and said, “Looking for me.”

  “Christ,” Franklin bellowed, spinning around, his gun aimed at the Colonel.

  “Easy.”

  “You scared the crap out of me.”

  “I thought you took care of that earlier.”

  “That’s not funny. I could have shot you.”

  “It’s not good to shoot the commanding officer. It looks bad on your fitness report,” Webber replied.

  “Did you get her fueled already?”

  “Nope. Can’t. Truck pumps won’t work without the engine running.”

  “Okay, so now what?”

  “We need to find an older truck. That’s what I was doing when you decided to shoot me,” Webber said.

  Franklin ignored the remark.

  “So what do we do?”

  “Let’s taxi over to the private terminal. I doubt they are quite so up to date.”

  ****

  They climbed back in the Warhawk and Webber fired the engine. It only took a few minutes to taxi to the smaller terminal. A number of private single, twin engine prop planes, and small jets were all sitting in neat rows. Webber spotted an older fuel truck and taxied over to it and cut the engine.

  “It’s older but I don’t think it’s that old,” Franklin said.

  “I don’t see anything older,” Webber replied as the climbed down.

  Franklin went over to the truck and tried the engine. Nothing. It was the same story.

  “Well, this is another fine mess you have gotten me into Ollie,” Webber said.

  “Sure, blame the lower ranking officer.”

  “Of course. It’s the military way. Never fear, I have a backup plan,” he said.

  “Does it involve getting anyone killed?”

  “Just one of us.”

  “Great,” Franklin replied, “So what’s this backup plan of yours?”

  “Those fifty-five gallon barrels,” Webber said pointing.

  “You want me to lift one of those?”

  “No Einstein. It has a hand pump on it. We can use that to get the fuel into the plane.”

  “Ah, and I suppose I do the cranking.”

  “Only if you intend to continue on with me,” Webber said.

  It took them a few minutes to get the barrel over by the plane. Webber made sure it had AV-gas in it before he had Franklin start hand cranking the fuel.

  After fifteen minutes of turning the handle Franklin asked, “What have we got?”

  “Two hundred gallons.”

  “Shit. We are going to need several other barrels,” Franklin said.

  “Not so. We can let the truck drain fuel into the barrel and then crank it in.”

  “Good plan.”

  “I know,” Webber said smiling.

  It took both men to remove the pump and drain fifty more gallons into the barrel. They had to repeat the process several times before the tanks were finally topped off.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here. We don’t have that much more light left,” Webber said firing the engine back up as Franklin strapped in.

  “I’m glad that’s over with,” was all he said as he rubbed his shoulder. Webber taxied back to the runway and a few minutes later they were wheels up and headed for Washington D.C.

  Colonel Webber was in the pilot’s seat and flying east toward Washington but now they were going to have to make a couple of changes. First was the simple fact that the interstate didn’t head in the same direction and secondly, they needed to fly higher as they approached the mountains. When they crossed over into West Virginia they banked slightly south but with no landmarks and flying only VFR, Webber had turned too far south.

  “Hey, that’s an interstate,” the Lieutenant said.

  “Yeah. I saw that. I’m looking on the map but I don’t know which one. I guess it could be I-64 but that’s too far south.”

  “Let’s
drop down. Maybe we can see something.”

  “Sure. Like we can read the signs.”

  “If you slow down and get low enough, maybe I can,” Franklin insisted.

  “What the hell. It ain’t like we are going to break any rules,” he said, pulling back on the throttle and lowering the flaps.

  It would help lower their air speed but still keep them aloft. Webber dropped down to fifty feet, skimming over the tops of cars and trucks that littered the interstate.

  “I-64,” Franklin said after a few seconds.

  “That means we need to turn back northeast a little.”

  “Wait. I see a town just up ahead. Maybe we can figure out exactly where we are.”

  Webber was already looking at the map.

  “From the size, the only thing I can figure is that it must be Lewisburg or else we are further along than I thought.”

  Webber banked the plane and made a wide circle of the small town.

  “Holy shit,” Franklin yelled into the headset almost shattering Webber's ears.

  “Easy! Christ, you don’t have to shout!”

  “Look, down there. I see people!”

  “Bullshit.”

  “No. Look, just off to your right.”

  Webber cut back on the throttle a little more and extended the landing gear, it would help slow them down even further. He just had to make sure they didn’t stall.

  “I’ll be damned,” he said at last, spotting people waving at the plane.

  “Others did make it,” Franklin said.

  “So it would seem. You see a place to set this thing down?”

  “A field just to the east of them.”

  “Good. I see it. Okay, get ready, I’m going to land this thing. It might be kind of rough,” Webber told him as he aimed for the clearing.

  They touched down once and bounced before settling down and rolling to a stop.

  “That was smooth,” the Lieutenant said sarcastically.

  “You can land next time,” Webber said, unstrapping and climbing down from the plane.

  “I guess we walk now.”

  “Seems like,” Webber replied and they started off walking across the field toward where they saw the other survivors.

  They had just made it to the end of the field when two men came running toward them.