by Dan McMartin
Dan McMartin Presents...
SHTF: The Battle of San Francisco
A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller
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Thanks for picking up SHTF: The Battle for San Francisco. While I’ve got your attention, check out my other novels. You’ve got to have something to read when the shit hits the fan, right?
~~~
If you appreciate World War II fiction, consider picking up the Baker Company, the tale of six paratroopers lost on D-Day.
Baker Company
(www.amazon.com/dp/B00FZ1O70S)
Set in World War II again, follow the adventures of an OSS agent on a mission in Nazi Germany that doesn’t go quite as planned.
Cloak & Dagger Man
(www.amazon.com/dp/B00VS61TSC)
And don’t forget my pulp-action thriller, Lesbian Vampire Strippers Stole My Wife. It’s full of action, adventure, humor and a bit of risqué fun. Grab a copy now!
Lesbian Vampire Strippers Stole My Wife
(www.amazon.com/dp/B00W2YKMBE)
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Visit me at my Author website, www.danmcmartin.com, my personal website, www.flyfishnevada.com, or my Amazon author page amazon.com/author/danmcmartin.
Chapter 1
“That was Avril Lavigne with ‘When You're Gone.’ It’s six thirty-five on a beautiful spring morning here in Sunny 107 country...if you consider rain and forty degrees beautiful that is. Before we play more soft hits, let’s check in with Chuck the Traffic Guy for a look at our roads this morning,” the radio blared.
“Thanks, Bill. Well, Reno and Sparks roads are a mess. The interstate is moving at a crawl and...,” was all Chuck managed to get out before Pete slapped the clock radio and turned off the alarm.
“I’ve got to find another station,” Pete remarked as he sat up and stretched. He said the same thing about three times a week but as usual, he didn’t find a new station. Instead, he got up to go shower and get ready for work, again, as usual.
After pulling off his boxers, he turned on the shower and tested the water. This morning, it was just right. Yesterday, it was like ice. Last week, the water was so hot that it was impossible to stand underneath the sputtering streams for more than a few seconds. Today, thankfully, the water heater was cooperating...but for how long.
As Pete enjoyed a rare pleasant shower, he couldn’t help but think about how normal this had all become. It had been almost six months since Gloria left him after just a year and a half of marriage. She told him that it wasn’t him, but rather, it was her. Pete heard that line before but this time he tended to believe his wife. She showed up in divorce court with cropped hair, a ring in her nose and several new tattoos, not to mention the severe looking blonde woman that turned out to be her lover.
Pete wasn’t sure which was worse. His wife leaving him for a man or his wife giving up on men altogether. It was hard not to think that he hadn’t pushed her over the edge, that somehow Pete had tainted Gloria’s opinion of all men. The idea was ridiculous but there it was.
Six months on, Pete had grown used to his shitty apartment, the demons that lived in the water heater, microwave dinners and cheap beer. He was living the dream. The bitch of it was that he actually liked being married. He loved Gloria and was sure she loved him too at one time. Pete loved the house they bought and the life they were building. Most of his friend’s complained about the yard work, their jobs and their wives. Pete loved all of it.
Melancholy. That’s the mood he found himself in. A mood he found himself in far too often as of late. Not quite depressed, just sad at losing his whole life. He stepped out of the shower and toweled off, resolving to stop thinking about the past as he dried. It was Thursday, after all, and tomorrow was Friday. Softball, beers with the guys and then a weekend of nothing but Fallout 4 on the PlayStation. All the stuff Gloria used to hate.
He shaved, dressed and then, as usual, stopped by the bagel place for some cheap coffee and a bagel breakfast sandwich before going to work. “Hey, Pete,” the pretty girl behind the counter greeted him. She was from Southeast Asia...or her ancestors were anyway. Pete never asked, he just assumed based on her looks. Considering her olive complexion, dark hair and almond eyes, it fit.
“Hey, Anna,” he replied. That was the extent of their relationship. After that, it was all business.
“Usual?” she asked.
“Yep,” he told her, though he always wanted to say more. An onion bagel with egg, bacon and cheese along with a small coffee. Anna prepared the order as Pete pretended not to watch her. He considered, as he usually did, about asking her out. As usual, he banished the idea. He used to think of himself as a ladies man but when a man’s wife turns lesbian, it has a way of killing a man’s confidence.
Pete paid and then took the cup of coffee and a small bag from Anna. “See ya,” he said.
“Have a nice day,” she replied, smiling brightly...almost expectantly. Pete almost asked Anna out but chickened out again. He simply left the bagel shop as he always did, sighing as he reached his Jeep. Pete looked back as he set the coffee on the hood and dug for his keys. Maybe, he’d ask her out tomorrow. Yeah, tomorrow.
Despite the affirmation, he knew he wouldn’t find the courage tomorrow either. He never had in the past, despite the regular promises he made to himself. Pete shrugged, climbed into his Jeep and drove to work. The rest of the day was uneventful...as far as Pete knew. Pete’s job wasn’t glamorous or exciting but it paid the bills...and half of Gloria’s too. She was only working part-time while she went to school...women’s studies. The judge figured that was Pete’s problem and made him pay. It was only until Gloria graduated but apparently, she wasn’t in a hurry to do that.
Besides, he liked working construction. He got to be outside, it kept him in reasonable shape and the work offered a lot of freedom. Someday, he’d get his contractor’s license and be his own boss too. That was the plan anyway. It began to rain as Pete went about his duties. The rain wasn’t all that bad as long as it wasn’t dumping buckets.
“You hear about those fucking refugees?” Mike asked as the two men worked on a section of the wall framing. It always took a while for Mike’s coffee to kick in but when it did, he was a talker and usually about politics.
“No, what about them?” Pete wondered. He skipped the news mostly. Too depressing. Mike was a news hound though. He knew everything that was going on and always had an opinion about it too.
“They’ve been getting sick. Brought some kind of disease over. I knew they were trouble. Fucking liberals,” Mike explained. He was a Republican. Pete was too but he wasn’t fanatical about it like Mike.
“Yeah, fucking liberals,” Pete agreed just to make conversation.
“They say it’s spreading like wildfire,” Mike added.
“Is that so?” Pete replied trying to sound interested. Mike kept ranting about it now and then as they worked building and erecting sections of walls. The rain let up around ten that morning and by noon, it was sunny. For lunch, Pete grabbed a sub sandwich and ate it in his Jeep at the park by the river. After lunch, Mike was a no show and Pete worked alone even knocking off a bit early himself. It wasn’t like Mike to skip out on work and there wasn’t much Pete could do without him.
That evening, Pete played Fallout 4 and ate leftover pizza. He assumed there must’ve been some kind of fire or accident from the sound of all the sirens. His phone rang a few times but the ring tone told him it w
as his mom. Pete didn’t want to talk to his mom right then. She always wanted to talk about his failed marriage and finding a nice girl that wasn’t a lesbian. Pete ignored the calls and the messages she left. By ten o’clock, he was in bed and wondering if he would really ask Anna out in the morning. Pete decided he had no idea before he drifted off to sleep.
~~~
The next morning, there was no annoying radio voice or doom and gloom traffic and weather. Instead, Pete woke up to static on the radio. It was better than the soft hits he normally woke up with but still, it was strange. He sat up and stared at the clock radio, wondering if there was a power outage at the station or something. He reached over to turn the white noise off when the radio crackled to life.
“This is the Emergency Broadcast System. Please be advised that President McClane has declared a state of emergency and martial law. Only emergency and law enforcement personnel are allowed on the streets. Stay indoors, lock and seal all windows and doors. This is not a drill,” the disembodied, emotionless voice said.
“What the...,” Pete remarked as he tried to wrap his head around that. Fucking radio assholes playing games, he figured. For a minute, he wondered if it was April Fool’s Day but remembered that was the week before. He grabbed the clock radio and searched the dial but was met with static until finally he heard something. Pete stopped and reversed, zeroing in on the station only to hear the end of that same message.
That wasn’t good. Pete walked out to the living room, flicking on the television as he passed by to have a look outside. Upon pulling back the drapes, he saw several columns of smoke rising in the distance. A car was wrapped around a street light pole off to the left and there were two bodies lying in the parking lot below. It was so absurd, the scene barely registered in Pete’s mind. Then the television came to life.
“...martial law. The government is trying to get control of the situation. Please stay indoors with the doors and windows locked for your own protection. Emergency or law enforcement personnel will advise you when it is safe to leave your home. May God bless you and the United States of America,” President McClane announced in his unmistakable Midwestern drawl. The screen went black for a moment and then his announcement began all over again. It was a recording.
The announcement on television was much the same as the emergency broadcast on the radio. State of emergency. Martial law. Stay indoors. Pete just stared at the television as the President spoke the words again. McClane said that he, the Vice President and other government leaders were safe in an undisclosed location during the beginning part of the message Pete had missed the first time around. Then Pete jumped as something hit his front window.
He turned to find his neighbor, Julie, if he remembered correctly, pressed against the glass, biting at the air. Her eyes were clouded and her skin was gray. Pete backed away as she pounded on the window but stopped and warily walked back to close the drapes. He felt light-headed and dizzy, his heart was pounding a hundred miles an hour. He collapsed on the sofa and then threw up all over the empty pizza box he’d left there the night before.
“What the fuck?!” he exclaimed as he tried, and failed, to come to terms with what he was seeing and hearing. The noise caused Julie to growl and bang on the window with renewed vigor. Pete stood up, wiping his mouth, and went to the bedroom. He rummaged through the closet until he found the shotgun he hadn’t used in years and a box of shells. He also found the case with his grandad’s pistol too. There wasn’t any ammo for that, however.
Pete loaded the shotgun and then dressed. But he ended up sitting on the bed for a long time, staring at the floor. He heard the odd siren, sporadic gunfire and Julie snarling and banging on his front window. There he sat for nearly an hour, attempting to wrap his head around things and find the motivation to act. He didn’t know what to do and kept wondering if it were all a dream. Then the phone rang and Pete nearly jumped out of his skin. Mom!
Pete dashed to the living room, shotgun in hand. Julie was going nuts outside. He didn’t even look to see who was calling. “Mom?” he answered.
“No, it’s Mike. You’re alive. That’s good, buddy,” he said.
“Yeah, I guess,” Pete replied, caught off guard and still confused by the morning’s events.
“If you can make it, meet me at the job site. I’ve got supplies and guns. Bring whatever you’ve got. Food, guns, camping gear, whatever. You’ve got an hour and then I’m...hold on,” Mike said. Pete heard footsteps and snarling on the other end of the line followed by a loud grunt and a sickening splat. “Sorry, had to kill one of them,” Mike said as if that was all perfectly normal.
“What the fuck is going on, Mike?” Pete asked, almost panicking.
“Look, I don’t have time. You and I’ve been working together for a long time. I trust you. Just get here,” Mike told him. That shook the last of the cobwebs from Pete’s mind. He didn’t know what was happening but Mike would know.
“Yeah, okay,” Pete responded.
“One more thing. Don’t let those things bite you. They ain’t human...not anymore. If you have a weapon, don’t be afraid to use it,” Mike said.
“Mike?” Pete replied but Mike had already hung up. Pete stood there considering Mike’s words, frozen momentarily. They ain’t human...not anymore. That’s what Mike said but Pete didn’t understand. Then Julie’s pounding cracked the window ever so slightly. Her...its incessant pounding was breaking the glass. Suddenly, Pete found the will to act. He didn’t want to find out firsthand what Mike was talking about.
Pete gathered what he could and threw it into a duffel bag. More shotgun ammo, his granddad’s pistol, bottles of water, some canned food, clothes, anything he could think of. Pete had no idea what he was doing, just running on adrenaline and fear. The situation was surreal, like something out of a movie. Pete was on auto-pilot.
His bag packed, Pete slung it over his shoulder and re-entered the living room. Just then, Julie crashed through the glass. Pete crouched, not sure what to expect. She fell through the window tangling herself in the drapes. He hadn’t considered how he would get past the snarling...woman but now Pete saw his chance.
“That’s right, Julie. Come and get me,” he called to her, worried for some reason that Julie might not be her name. Her frantic flailing grew more desperate and the drapes tore from the rod. Julie tumbled into the living room as she struggled to free herself from the heavy fabric, mindless and with no regard for her own safety. Pete took advantage as the thing that was once his neighbor made her situation worse. He quietly sneaked out the front door, leaving the apartment and his crazed neighbor behind.
Once Pete was out of earshot, he hustled along the balcony, down the stairs and to his Jeep Wrangler. The duffle bag and shotgun were tossed onto the passenger seat as he hurriedly climbed inside and closed the door. That caught the attention of another neighbor he hadn’t seen. Like Julie, he was gray with cloudy eyes.
The man...or the thing that used to be a man, stood and revealed the body it had been gnawing on behind the Buick parked in front of apartment 107. His neighbor had blood running down his chin and his teeth were stained red. Pete didn’t wait around to see more. He fired up the engine and threw the Jeep in reverse. The neighbor pursued, shambling towards the Jeep as it came to rest when Pete put it in first gear. The Wrangler took off as the neighbor lunged only to fall face first onto the cracked and weathered pavement. The Jeep tore down the street and towards what Pete hoped was safety.
Chapter 2
Pete didn’t look back. He just drove. More people...things staggered about as he followed the familiar route to the job site, foregoing his usual morning bagel and coffee. There were bodies in the streets, some intact and others not, wrecked cars and even a police cruiser, lights still flashing but abandoned. Pete fought the urge to retch, willing himself to wake up from what was surely a nightmare. It didn’t work. This was happening...this was real.
Pete saw groups of...he hated to say it, to admit it, because i
t seemed so farfetched...zombies feeding on the dead as he drove. Sadness followed by anger and then by frustration and helplessness overwhelmed him as he drove. The city was peaceful in a strange, morbid sort of way. There was no traffic to speak of, no people about...living people anyway. At times Pete could almost forget this was happening but the sense that the city was now left to the dead persisted. It was just like those video games Pete liked to play so much.
For a while, Pete wasn’t even sure he wanted to go to Mike, to try and survive this horror but he did go. Mike’s truck was parked inside the temporarily fenced perimeter of the job site. Mike approached the gate as Pete drove up, apparently expecting Pete’s arrival.
Mike opened the gate and waved him inside. Pete knew better than to stop until he was safely within the fencing. That much was apparent. He parked next to Mike’s pickup and all but fell out of the Jeep. All at once it hit him, the entirety and suddenness of it all. It left him heaving but not actually vomiting. He felt as if he might explode, unable to process what it all meant. The unbelievable situation was too much to digest.
“Take a breath, buddy,” Mike said as he joined Pete near the Jeep.
“I’m good,” Pete lied.
“Nice to see you aren’t one of the undead,” Mike replied and offered his hand. Pete took it and found how desperate he was to feel the touch of another living human being.
