Earth's Survivors Apocalypse

by Unknown

  “Listen, man,” One of the figures shouted in a deep voice. “You ain't welcome here. You come into the city and you will get fucked up.” Silence held, rain drummed against the steel roof. The figures got back into the car. The headlights winked out.

  Tiny spots floated in front of Mike’s eyes and he quickly blinked them away. The truck was backing slowly into the road, away from the station.

  “What in hell are they doing?” Dave asked, looking at Bob. “What the hell was that all about?” he asked again.

  Bob shrugged. “I guess we've been warned... I didn't much like it, I can tell you.”

  “I didn't much like that either,” Mike said as he looked over at Dave. Bob stood beside him, his eyes locked on the car.

  Once the Suburban reached the roadway it pulled slowly up to the stop sign at Route 250 and once again sat idling, its lights still off. Mike tried squinting his eyes tighter, to see into the darkened side windows, but they were pitch black, like a limousine, he thought.

  “What should we do,” Gina asked? Mike looked at her, and it was obvious she was frightened. In fact, he noticed, everyone, himself included, seemed frightened. Terry was the only one who had brought a rifle into the station with him and Mike noticed it.

  “Terry, give me that,” he said motioning at the rifle.

  “Be careful, Mike,” Bob said, “No telling what they're up to. I don't know if it's wise to go out there.”

  “Don't!” Candace said, turning to face Mike. She seemed on the verge of panic.

  “Don't worry,” he said. “I only want to show them we're armed... maybe they'll take off. Think they're armed, Bob?” Mike asked.

  “I don't know, but who knows how friggin' long they were sitting out there watching us, if they'd wanted to shoot us they could have easily. The lights in here probably lit us up like a damn Christmas tree,” Bob stated. “I ain't so sure you should be going alone if you're going out there though. I'm going too.” Terry and Dave followed them out the door.

  The four men advanced slowly toward the car in the pouring rain. The Suburban stayed put, its engine softly idling, and curls of white exhaust floating up through the sheets of rain. They stopped about ten feet from the still idling car, and Mike stepped to the front of the small group with the rifle clutched in both hands. He didn't want to seem too threatening, but he wanted them to see the rifle.

  “Hey, you in the car!” He shouted above the deafening roar of the rain. The taillights flashed briefly as if in answer, and a cold chill crept up Mike’s spine. He shuddered involuntarily. “What the hell is with these guys,” he muttered, to no one in particular.

  “They are some kind of assholes all right,” Bob whispered. Mike looked over and saw that they were all shaken. He tried again.

  “Hey, what's the problem?”

  He had meant for the question to come out strong and loud, but it had not. Instead, the words had seemed to choke up inside him, and had sounded strangled when they had come out. The eerie feeling had gotten stronger, and Mike noticed that he felt an almost panicky urge to run back towards the station.

  He looked at the others, and noticed they seemed to be panicked as well. What the hell, he wondered, as he fought to control the panic. He found himself suddenly raising the rifle and aiming at the car.

  “Don't shoot the bastard,” Bob whispered.

  “Don't intend to. I just... I...”

  Just after he began to lower the rifle, the Suburban's headlights suddenly flicked on, and the rear tires spun on the slick pavement, smoking and screaming as they clawed for purchase. The engine whined higher in pitch and the big Suburban seemed to jump out into the intersection. Mike watched as it skewed around sideways on the wet asphalt and roared off towards Webster. A passenger leaned out the window and aimed a rifle at them.

  The rifle in Mike's hands bucked and the rear window of the Suburban burst inward in a spray of glittering black diamonds as it sped away. The shooter ducked back inside. Shapes moved and shifted in the back of the Suburban, maybe as many as half a dozen, Mike thought, maybe even more. No way to know, he decided. The pitch of the motor rose higher, and a few seconds later the taillights slipped out of sight.

  “Christ.” Mike said, as his dry mouth tried to work.

  “I counted at least eight with the driver and passenger,” Bob confirmed.

  Mike could still hear the Suburban accelerating in the distance over the sound of the rain as it sped away, and feel the heavy pounding blat of its engine in the pavement under his feet. The four men turned away and walked slowly back towards the station in silence.

  Mike stopped at one of the Jeeps before they entered, and waited for the other three to catch up.

  “Listen,” he said in a low tone, almost a whisper. “I don't think it's wise to scare the shit out of the others. Maybe we should tell them the back was empty. Agreed?”

  Terry was still swallowing convulsively, but nodded his head up and down like a puppet. Bob and Dave both mumbled agreement.

  “Terry,” Mike hissed, “snap out of it. It won't do any good if we walk in there with you looking like that.” Terry nodded and tried to calm down. “Maybe you can get Terry aside and talk to him, Dave.”

  Just as Mike had finished speaking, the door to the station swung open, and the people inside poured out into the rain. Candace, looking badly shaken, walked towards them with her hands folded across her chest.

  “They all had guns... The ones in the back, Mike,” she said. “I looked, we all looked, Mike.... When you shot out the back window.”

  Her voice had risen as she spoke, and at the end she was nearly screaming. Mike pulled her to him and held her in the rain. To hell with it, he thought, keeping secrets was never one of my strong suits anyway. It's probably better this way.

  “Mike,” Bob said. “I think it might be best if we stay here for tonight, instead of going into the city. I also think we ought to pull the Jeeps inside the service bays for the night... keep an eye on them. Probably ought to keep the rifles with us from now on too.”

  “I guess you're right, Bob. Candace, why don't you and the others go back inside and get the doors up. We'll pull the Jeeps in... Okay?” She hugged him fiercely before she let go and ran back into the station. The three of them quickly drove the Jeeps into the service bays, and then locked the wide doors behind them. They locked the front door to the station as well, and they all walked back into the rear section of the garage bays by a small parts room.

  Mike propped open the door to the parts room, and turned a small light on inside. The bulb was dim, but flooded weak yellow light out into the garage area, it was enough, he felt, if the Suburban came back he didn't want them to be perfectly silhouetted inside the station by the florescent overheads in the garage bay.

  Candace and Connie began to fix some cold sandwiches, while the others unloaded the sleeping bags and ice chests from the Jeeps.

  Mike was into his second beer and his heart was just beginning to resume a somewhat normal beat. Terry walked back from the front of the garage where he had been staring out into the rain. They all half expected the Suburban to come roaring back at any second. The rifles were out of the Jeeps now. Close at hand, just in case. Candace and Connie brought a large stack of sandwiches over, and both grabbed a cold drink, sitting down as Bob began to speak.

  “This changes everything,” he said to no one in particular. “I don't think it's a good idea to just ignore it either.”

  Mike took a deep gulp of the beer before he spoke. “I guess you're right, Bob and, it was stupid to think we should keep it to ourselves. I shouldn't have suggested it.” He looked around at the small group of frightened people and his eyes locked on Candace's as he continued to speak. “I thought it would shake everyone up for no reason,” he said. The argument seemed empty and somewhat foolish even to him. “Bob's right though. We started to discuss it back in Watertown, and didn't. Maybe we should have...I don't know.”

  His eyes were sad, Candace noti
ced, and he shrugged his shoulders helplessly when he finished. Silence hung thick in the air for a few minutes until Bob reluctantly began to speak again.

  “I don't pretend to have an answer for one,” he said quietly, as he looked around from one to the other. “I guess we can only go with what we know for now. What I mean is what we know from our own personal experience back in Watertown,” he waited but no one spoke.

  Bob continued. “I said before that I spent the night at the gravel pit, and I did, but I didn't sleep. I couldn't. I was too keyed up. Hell, we all were. Whatever this is it looks a lot worse now than it did then. This little trip has proven that it was not a localized thing. Probably Rochester is gone,” he shrugged. “No way to know, but is it worth an armed fight to find out? That sounds nuts, right?”

  “No... Sounds sane,” Mike said. “We knew this, I think. I think we knew this. Maybe not that it would go this bad this fast, but I think we suspected... Suspected is a good word.”

  “Possibly,” Bob replied. He shook his head. “No, most likely. Most likely subconsciously we knew and didn't want to face it. I guess the pretending is over now though... Maybe that's for the best before one of us gets killed taking too much for granted.”

  Mike nodded. “I... No, Bob, I don't think you're nuts, if you are then we all are. I think the world ended. I mean the sensible part we all understood. I don't know what in hell this part is... I mean there has got to be some way to explain or at least understand this.”

  “You just did,” Candace said quietly from beside him.

  “She's right, Mike,” Bob said, “You did. I don't think this is a rational or predictable world anymore. If it isn't, then all that's left, Is simply survival or,” he motioned toward the outside, “Death... Let those people tell you how to live... Or Worse. There is no in between anymore, no walking the fence, the gloves are off, just one or the other.”

  “So what’s next?” Gina asked, expectantly.

  “If I knew that,” Bob answered. “I guess I would be God. I'm not, so I don't know...”

  “...Just to make my position clear though, I don't intend to start waxing religious, but you can bet that I might just start praying. It used to seem superstitious to me. Not anymore. Now it seems important.”

  Silence hung in the air for a few moments, and Connie spoke up. “But what should we do? Should we go back, or go into Rochester, or should we maybe go somewhere else?”

  “I think that question needs to be answered by all of us individually,” Bob replied calmly. “It's not a question one person can answer, and we've pretty much stuck together so far, I can't see splitting up if there's a disagreement. I think we all need to decide together.”

  “I don't see any reason to go back to Watertown,” Lilly said

  “I agree,” Dave joined in.

  “There's nothing there for us,” Patty said.

  One by one they all voiced their opinions, until only John, Candace, Mike and Bob were left.

  “I don't see the sense in it,” Mike said quietly. The remaining three nodded their heads in agreement.

  “So... do we go into Rochester, or somewhere else?” Bob asked softly as he looked around the cramped garage.

  “I for one would hate to think we came all this way for nothing,” John said. “I vote we go. If it's bad,” he shrugged his shoulders, “we get the hell out and go somewhere else.”

  Bob looked back at the small group. “Well?”

  Silently, they all nodded their heads in agreement.

  “That's that then,” Bob said. “We'll go in the mornin',” he paused. “Tonight though, I think we need to keep watch. I'm going to take the first watch, who's next?”

  “Me,” Ronnie said.

  “I'll relieve you,” Dave said, “just get me up when you get tired.”

  “That should see us through the night,” Bob said. “...I think it's best if we all sleep in here tonight, and on this side, behind the trucks. It might be a bit crowded, but I don't want to take any chances.” Bob finished, picked up his rifle, and headed towards the glass enclosed front of the gas station, and the small group began to break apart. Candace spoke up, after most of the others had drifted away.

  “Mike?”

  “Ssshh,” he said, as he put a finger over her lips, “no need.” He led her away and they pushed two sleeping bags together in front of one of the Jeeps.

  “Mike?” she said, “I just need to be held.”

  “I know,” he said quietly. “I need to hold you.” He took her into his arms and held her as he tried to push the thoughts that wanted to crowd his mind away. Candace slipped off to sleep quickly, but sleep eluded Mike. He lay quietly thinking, still holding her, until he drifted off to sleep himself much later.

  TWELVE

  March 14th

  Rochester NY: Mike and Candace

  Morning.

  He was still holding her when he awoke the next morning. Candace awoke a few minutes after he did. She kissed him softly, and said, “Thank you for not being like every other man I've met in my life. I could love you, Mike, you know that?”

  Mike kissed her back, and then she left to help with breakfast. Bob wandered over, his eyes bloodshot, a rifle slung across his shoulder.

  “Did you see anything last night, Bob,” Mike asked?

  “Zip. I stayed up all night myself, whoever or whatever... They didn't come back.”

  “I thought you were going to switch off with Ed. You should have got me up,” Mike said.

  “Was gonna switch off, but... I don't know, Mike, there's somethin' strange with Ed. It seems like he's walking around with his head stuck halfway up his ass. I ain't so sure he's gonna make it,” Bob finished in a near whisper.

  “It happens, some people can't take it when things get flaky, Bob. Still, you should have got me up.”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter now,” Bob said grinning. “Besides, it looked like Candace needed you. Looked like you needed her too,” he finished quietly.

  “I think we all need each other,” Mike answered, “Ed will come around.”

  Once everyone had eaten they packed up the Jeeps; unlocked the garage doors, and backed out into the already hot morning air.

  Mike left the cab and motioned the others out of the Jeeps. The quiet of early morning descended.

  “We don't know anything at all about what's next. If, after a night to sleep on it you have changed your mind, it's no sin... No one will blame you if you want to go back... Or even somewhere else.” He waited, but no one spoke. No nervous clearing of throats, no uneasy laughter. Nothing. “Okay,” he scrubbed at his face and the beard that was growing across his chin. Marveling at how it could be there at all. “I'd say windows down... Rifles loaded and safeties off... Watch... Follow my lead. If I back up and try to get out of there you follow me. Don't turn around, just keep it floored in reverse... Let's just be smart. Maybe those guys were nothing but smoke.” The silence held.

  “Smoke or not we can't run away,” John said. He straightened and smoothed his shirt front.

  Mike nodded, looked around once more and then climbed back into the jeep.

  They pulled off the service stations paved area; rolled slowly through the intersection and headed into the city of Rochester.

  New York: Manhattan

  Adam:

  Adam came awake with sunlight streaming in through the windshield of the small car. He recalled waking in the night, but could not recall why. The memory left him feeling somewhat uneasy, especially since he could not recall the why of it. Most probably, he thought, just the strangeness of the surroundings he found himself in.

  The city seemed dead. He had been three days or so looking, sleeping wherever he had wound up. Twice gangs had come close to him, but had changed their minds. Something in his attitude told them he was looking for any excuse. He had stood waiting. Unconcerned, but they had turned away. Last night he had finally admitted he was not going to find he. He could have, maybe even had, driven by her alre
ady. There was no way to know. There were millions in this city, dead or alive. Millions, and how could you find one person in all that? You never thought about someone missing in all of that until it happened. Where would you even start to look?

  Telephone and power poles crept from one side of the street to the other. In many places the wires had fallen, but in others it looked as though nothing had ever happened. Adam turned his attention away from the endless wires and back to the interior of the car.

  He had found the car empty last night after the truck had quit a few blocks to the east. A small white-plastic key fob dangled from the ignition switch. Adam pumped the gas pedal twice, and then reached forward and turned the key. The motor turned over slowly, but eventually caught and sputtered to life. A blare of static pealed forth from the radio, and he fumbled with the controls until he managed to turn it off. He looked around the interior of the car.

  The old blue vinyl seats were ripped and stained. The Honda insignia, although cracked and dirty, was still firmly attached to the peeling and split dashboard. Trash littered the floorboards, and the shift knob was so worn he could barely make out the pattern imprinted into it. The motor sounded like a small sewing machine, but the choppy uneven idle smoothed out after a few minutes to a low hum. Adam shifted the car into first and pulled from the side of the road bumping over the trash that littered the street as he went.

  The driving was slow going, but an hour later he reached the outskirts of Manhattan. For the last twenty minutes he had been driving on the sidewalks that cut around the stalled traffic, and the further he had gotten out of the city the more he had found himself having to slow down and cut around the stalled traffic. He finally realized there was no way to drive out of the mess that Manhattan had become. He sat quietly for a few moments then got the car turned around and headed back for Park Avenue.

  He wound slowly through the stalled traffic, going around where he had to, and he was close to Central Park when the car became hopelessly wedged as he tried to get around several vehicles blocking the road. It had been close before, but this time it was pushed tight against a building and the front of a truck that had ended up on the sidewalk, and there was no hope of getting the car freed. One of the cars he had been trying to squeeze past had slipped over onto the hood of the small car, pushing it both tighter into the building and the cement sidewalk.