The End The Beginning (Humanity's New Dawn Book 1)

by Ryan Horvath

  Karen sat down on one of the benches and crossed her ankles beneath her. The air was warm and the sun shone down brightly. Blaze sat next to her, his tongue lolled out of his mouth and wiggled as he panted.

  “It’s nice here,” Blaze woofed.

  Karen placed a hand on the top of the dog’s spotted head. “I’m glad you think so,” she said.

  “Will we stay here long?” Blaze chuffed.

  “I guess we’ll see. I’d like to think so,” Karen answered.

  “I think we will. I like it here. I like our friends,” he spoke in a series of growls and whimpers. “Even the cat. She’s a weird cat but as far as cats go, she’s alright.”

  Karen laughed at this. How utterly normal it was for her to be sitting here in the abundant sunshine by the Hoover Damn talking with a dog.

  “Yes she is,” Karen said. And she scratched Blaze vigorously.

  “Do you think Brian and Amanda will find anything in town?” Blaze asked.

  “I’m just hoping they don’t find any trouble,” Karen replied. Her sister and Brian had gone into Boulder City to see what useful things they could find. A look from Amanda before they had left told Karen that the two were just a little tired of being cooped up in the cars for so long and wanted to do something helpful while Ian, Simon, and Jack unloaded the SUV, roof box, and trailer. Brian and Amanda had left about an hour and a half ago and Karen and Blaze had been watching Ian, Simon, and Jack unload while River wound her way expertly around their feet, never once getting kicked, or causing one of the men to miss a step. The visitor center had proved to be vacant of life and they had only found two dead humans: security guards who looked to have been shot around a week ago, according to Jack. The guys were currently inside now and, Karen guessed, likely in the basement where they had found space to temporarily store their food and water and supplies until they could better explore the area.

  Karen started thinking about Simon while she scratched Blaze and felt his tail swatting her foot. The morning temperature was in the mid-seventies so Simon, like Jack Jr. (she’d taken to thinking of him as that but hadn’t yet called him this), was working without a shirt on and Karen had found herself unable to take her eyes off of him while he was outside. His bandages had come off for good yesterday and the scarring he had gave him an intriguing appearance. The tautness of his muscles; the curve of his rear end when he bent or squatted to pick something up; the way his hair swept across his brow; the ruggedness his scruffy face portrayed; the kiss she’d envisioned. All these things caused her heart to palpitate faster in her ribcage at the sight of the man.

  Then, as quick as her daydream started, it shattered. Blaze had gone rigid beneath her hand. His tail stopped slapping her foot.

  “Master Karen!” Blaze stood as he sharply and loudly barked.

  But before he could say anything else Karen heard the sound. It was familiar and although it was at a greater distance and not inhibited by a silencer, she quickly associated what it was. It was akin to the sound she had “heard” in her very first vision, the vision of her husband Jack’s death.

  It was gunfire. Two quick shots.

  “It’s him,” Blaze growled and raised his hackles.

  Karen instantly got to her feet and they were on the move.

  Jack entered the visitor center carrying two cases of bottled water. He proceeded to a security elevator that they had gained access to with the key cards they had obtained from the two dead security guards they found on site when they arrived. Ian and Brian had carried the bodies outside and away while Jack and Simon unloaded the Honda. When they had returned from corpse disposal, Brian left in Ian’s Honda with Amanda to check out nearby Boulder City. Jack and Ian had both kissed their significant others and hugged them tightly, making assertions that they be careful and return at any sign of trouble and arming them with the Walther, the Miste man’s Sig Sauer, and the crossbow. Jack had screwed a silencer to each of the guns and had told them to be as quiet as possible and had sent them on the way. He guessed they’d been gone around an hour and a half.

  “Good thing that show I saw was right, eh Jack-a-mole?” Ian said as he pushed the down button with his elbow when they reached the elevator.

  “Yeah,” Jack said. “I think we’re gonna be alright here.”

  The Hoover Dam, being a power plant itself, and a hydroelectric one at that, had not lost power when most of the rest of the nation had and they had found working lights, elevators, appliances, and hot water.

  “I sure am looking forward to a real shower when we get done,” Simon said.

  “And a shave,” Ian added. “Amanda says my scruff is tickling her face.”

  Simon and Jack laughed heartily at this as the elevator doors opened to admit them.

  “I don’t know, buddy,” Jack said smiling and stepped into the elevator after Ian and Simon and River. “The scruff makes you look pretty hot.”

  “Well let’s see how you like it, Jack-Me-Off,” Ian said and puckered up and moved toward Jack.

  “Stop it!” Jack said, lifting the cases of water a little higher to block his face.

  Simon was laughing hard and trying not to drop the cases of soup he carried while River sat looking up at them.

  “I bet I could beat all of you,” River meowed loudly. “My face is hairier than any of yours.”

  Jack and Ian burst out laughing at this and it took the both of them to convey to Simon what River had said between fits and tears of laughter and then Simon rejoined in the boisterousness. The laughter echoed back and sounded amplified in the confines of the elevator and when the doors opened their laughs bounced into the large room, which was an employee lounge.

  They stepped off the elevator and the laughing subsided while the tears dried on their cheeks.

  “Did you see the lake this morning?” Ian said to them.

  “It was beautiful,” River meowed.

  “Imagine seeing that every day,” Ian pondered.

  “It’s going to be great here,” Simon said. “You were good to think about it.”

  “Thanks, buddy,” Ian said and looked proud.

  They set their loads down, trying to keep their supplies organized and headed back to the elevator which Simon called.

  “When we get settled, I’ll try to figure out how to keep this damn thing on the last floor it was on,” Simon started, pointing to the elevator doors, “rather than returning to the ground floor.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Ian said and raised his fist which Simon bumped his against.

  The elevator car arrived and they stepped in as the doors opened.

  “Guys,” Simon said. “I think Karen may be developing a thing for me.”

  Jack flashed Simon a knowing smile.

  “What?” Simon said.

  “I just happen to know she is, or has, that’s all,” Jack replied.

  “Wha?! How? What do you mean?” Simon stammered.

  Jack raised a finger to his nose, tapped it and gave a hearty grin. “It’s all in the nose, my friend,” he said.

  “What?!” Ian said. “Bullshit. You can’t smell attraction, Jack-Ass.”

  “Well,” River piped in. “You can’t. But I can. And Jack and Blaze can do it even better than me.”

  “I don’t understand,” Simon said looking from River to Jack.

  The elevator was just ceasing its ascent.

  “Pheromones,” Jack said. “I can detect them and hers go a little nutso when she’s with you. Amanda’s do too with you,” he added looking at Ian.

  “Really?” Ian asked.

  The elevator doors slid open revealing the empty visitor center lobby. The doors to the outside were no more than thirty yards away.

  “Yes, really,” River answered as she padded out of the elevator ahead of the men. “It’s a distinct smell. My sense of smell, however, is more limited than Jack’s and the dog’s and I can only detect the pheromones in close quarters. Jack and Blaze can probably smell it farther distances.”
>
  “She’s right,” Jack confirmed. “And our friend Karen has been releasing them pretty hard while we’ve been working. She knows Ian is with her sister. She knows I’m gay and, well, her husband’s son, so the pheromones have gotta be because of you.”

  Simon was quiet for a few seconds while he thought about this but then he reached out and grabbed Jack and Ian’s arms, stopping their walk. River stopped too and turned to face them.

  “Do I… Do I…” Simon started. “Should I do something about it?”

  “Do you want to do something about it?” Ian asked.

  Simon looked at the floor for a moment before looking back at the men. “She is beautiful. Her husband spoke very highly of her, what little he told me, anyway. But I’ve got to look like a teenager to her!”

  “I don’t think she cares anything about that,” River said. Her tail swished across the floor back and forth.

  “I don’t either. She’s a woman still, after all, and she probably hasn’t entered her sexual prime yet. And, well, you’re twenty-eight… not a teenager,” Jack summed matter-of-factly.

  Ian took Simon by the shoulders. “Dude, go for it. You, me, the sisters. We’ll repopulate the world.”

  Simon burst out laughing and Jack and Ian followed almost immediately. River danced between the legs of the three men, brushing her body affectionately against them.

  Jack felt safe. He felt at home.

  Ian felt happy. He felt exhilarated.

  Simon felt intrigue. He felt excited.

  River felt loved. She felt included.

  But seconds later things unraveled.

  Snap snap

  Jack heard the sound.

  “Did you hear that?” he said, looking on guard and alert.

  “Hear what?” Ian and Simon asked together.

  “Gun fire. Outside! Now!” Jack turned and raced for the doors, his heart thundered in his chest.

  Ian, Simon, and River were right behind him.

  “Jack! All our weapons, except what Bri took are still in the SUV. What if someone got them?” Ian said through panted breaths. It was the first time in a long time Jack could recall Ian using just his root name.

  “Shots were farther away than that. Hurry!” Jack shouted in answer. They were ten feet from the doors and when they reached them, they slid open while the men and cat slipped through.

  Outside, Jack looked to the west, where he believed the shots had come from while the other two men looked wildly around. Jack saw them almost immediately. Karen and Blaze were running west away from the visitor center at full speed. But Jack didn’t know if they were running from the shots or to them.

  “Damn it!” Jack spat out. “They don’t have any weapons!” he shouted and pointed toward Karen and Blaze. His mind raced and after what seemed like an hour, which in reality was a number of seconds, of decision making Jack said, “You two grab some weapons. River, follow me!”

  Simon and Ian raced over to the SUV.

  Jack and River took off after Blaze and Karen.

  Art arrived at the Hoover Dam and decided to recon the area before making an assault. While he was searched the area, the sun shone brightly and morning was in full swing.

  He had walked across Highway 93 and was now on the west side of the dam when he heard a car slowly approach. He ducked behind some rocks that had a six inch gap between them. He watched through the gap.

  There she is! The bitch woman! He said excitedly to himself. His penis stiffened at the sight of her. Her bruises from the wounds he had inflicted on her were not visible anymore. He looked forward to giving her some new ones. In the driver seat of the compact car was a man he recognized.

  That’s the son of a bitch who shot me!

  But he couldn’t catch them now.

  A simple idea quickly formulated in his mind. He would get them when they came back and, about an hour and a half later they did come back.

  This time, Art was ready. When the small car rolled by, Art fired his pistol. Two times and the front driver’s side tire went flat. He wasn’t worried about the passengers in the car hearing the shots. He was probably fifteen feet away and their windows were closed. They probably had the air conditioning on since it was warm.

  Art watched from between his rocks as he confirmed the man who killed him and the bitch woman did not hear the gunfire. Their backs were to him and he slipped from behind the rocks and silently crept toward them.

  “Just a flat tire,” Art heard the man who killed him say as he squatted by the tire to assess it and as Art stealthily approached. “I can get it changed in no time.” The man pressed a button on the key fob and the trunk popped open. “Can you grab me the tire iron and jack please?” She moved to do so, and did not catch sight of Art as he neared them.

  The sight of the bitch woman’s rear end drove Art crazy and his erection throbbed against his legs in his too tight pants. This had to happen now. He desperately wanted it. Needed it. There would be no turning back.

  He was less than two feet from them. The sun cast his shadow away from him. Away from them.

  One foot.

  Six inches.

  “Not a bad find,” Brian said from the driver’s seat of Ian’s Honda.

  “Huh?” Amanda snapped out of a day dream. For the last hour or so, since she and Brian had discovered the Boulder City Family Pharmacy, she had been preoccupied by something. It was a stupid thing but it had been bothering her since it popped into her mind. She’d gotten a mental picture of a weapon. A sword or more likely a knife of some kind. Michael Douglas had used one in Romancing the Stone but for the life of her, Amanda hadn’t been able to remember what the damn thing was called. She didn’t have a clue as to why she cared or how it had even popped into her mind but it was there and it was just one of those things that stuck with and bothered you until you remembered what you were trying to remember.

  “The supplies we found. Not a bad find,” Brian repeated.

  “Oh, yeah, right,” Amanda confirmed. They had probably been the first to check out the pharmacy and had stocked up of a lot of first aid supplies. They had found a butcher shop not far from the pharmacy and it had a well-stocked freezer that was still plenty cold, in spite of the loss of power and they had secured frozen meat they would thaw and cook. She and Brian had decided once they had assessed the refrigeration capabilities at the dam that they could come back and move more.

  It had taken them about twelve minutes to work their way into town and they had spent around an hour stocking the car before they decided it would be best to get back and not worry the others. The drive back took slightly longer because more vehicles blocked the eastbound lanes of Highway 93 than the west. They were probably half a mile or so from the view of the visitor center.

  “Shit!” Brian said as he suddenly felt the car drop and pull to the left.

  “What? What is it?” Amanda said from her seat. The sword or knife or whatever it was danced in her mind.

  “Not sure. Engine’s fine. I think it’s a flat.” Brian slowed and stopped the car. He opened his door and stepped out. The Walther was tucked in his waistband at his lower back. He shut the car door and examined the car as Amanda joined him.

  “Just a flat tire,” Brian nodded. “I can get it changed in no time.” He clicked the button on the fob and the trunk lid popped open. “Can you grab me the tire iron and jack please?”

  Amanda quickly walked to the rear of the car,

  hatchet

  raised the trunk lid,

  hacker

  flipped up the panel that covered the spare tire,

  whacker

  retrieved the tire iron and jack,

  bush whacker

  and returned to where Brian knelt by the tire.

  “Here you go,” Amanda said and handed the items to Brian.

  Brian was about to thank her when he suddenly felt his head propelled forward by a massive force from behind. His forehead connected with the quarter panel of the car and he felt
sharp pain spread out and blood begin to flow. His head was pulled back as quickly as it was thrust forward and then his head again flew forward into the car. He heard something crunch in his skull and then was released, where he fell to the pavement, limp, unmoving, dead, with pieces of his skull floating around his brain.

  Amanda saw Brian get brutally bashed against the car, saw the blood flow first from the open flap of flesh on his forehead, then saw his skull broken in with a frightening crunch on the second connection with the car’s frame. She tried to run but, even though her legs kicked wildly, she was caught. Whoever had killed Brian had an incredibly strong grip on her neck. She was harshly snapped around and came face to face with the attacker.

  Horrible, insane, green eyes leered back at her. Above them, blonde hair; below them, a psychopath’s smile.

  “Hello, Amanda,” the killer said to her through his maniacal grin. “Didn’t I say I wasn’t through with you?”

  Amanda struggled in the supposed-to-be-dead psychopath’s grip. She fought not to lose her bladder. But the killer yanked her against him and pressed her against his thigh. She instantly recognized what lay beneath the thin material of his pants. She felt the strain, the heat, the insistence of it and she hated it.

  “You’re mine now, bitch,” the killer sneered and carried Amanda away from the road.

  76

  BATTLE

  Art dragged his prey into a small copse of trees just off the road and tore her T-shirt, something showing the Hoover Dam, from her body. He expertly bound her wrists tightly with it and then used his index finger to rip open her bra, which caused her to shriek as the material bit into her back. The garment tore between the cups and her breasts fell from them.