No Sanctuary - The Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Survival Series: No Sanctuary Series - Book 1

by Mike Kraus

  “Son of a…” Frank turned around and clawed his way out of the ditch and ran back to the sedan. He grabbed his pack and opened it up to pull out an extra box of ammunition, then put the pack on his back and grabbed the rifle. He reached in and shut off the sedan before grabbing the keys and locking the doors, then shoved the keys into his pocket and cycled the bolt on the rifle, ensuring there was a cartridge in the chamber.

  After checking to make sure he had everything, Frank took off down the road at a jog, trying not to think about what he was doing for fear that he might change his mind. While he wasn’t entirely certain, the gunshots he had heard sounded like the same type he heard when Linda had been shooting previously. “How does that woman manage to get herself into two gunfights in less than twenty-four hours?”

  Rather than following the road all the way into town, as soon as he saw a few buildings ahead through the trees, Frank immediately headed several yards into the woods and slowed his approach. After the burst of gunfire earlier, he hadn’t heard anything else. The town—if it could even be called that—was more of a motley collection of buildings on either side of the road. There were no residential homes in sight and the only buildings Frank could recognize were the gas station, one of the restaurants—a place called “Bud’s Steak Shack”—and what looked like a combination laundromat and arcade, though the sign was too faded to make out.

  Frank crouched in the woods and watched the buildings for a moment, looking for any signs of movement. He was getting ready to move forward when he saw a figure dart out from behind the gas station on the other side of the road and head towards one of the buildings on his side. He squinted as he watched the figure running, then realized who it was.

  “Linda?” Frank whispered to himself as he watched her running along, hunched over as she tried to keep her body tucked as low to the ground as possible. She ducked inside the back of the building just as two men charged out the front, heading towards the restaurant located next to the gas station. The pair were both holding guns, wearing jeans and jackets and woolen hats that appeared far too warm for the time of year. They were talking to each other about something and were clearly agitated, but they weren’t loud enough for Frank to make out what they were saying.

  Without thinking, Frank bolted for the door that Linda had left open on the back side of the building. It took him several seconds to cover the small bit of open ground between the woods and the building, and he cringed as his feet crunched on the gravel behind the structure. He had no idea what was going on or who was at fault for whatever was happening, but there was still no sense in drawing attention to himself.

  The door on the back of the building was slightly ajar and Frank opened it quietly, praying that the hinges weren’t going to squeak. Inside, the building was mostly dark, though several candles and a lantern were spread out on the floor and tables that offered a faint glow that he could barely see by. The building appeared to be the second restaurant he had seen on the map of the town, though he couldn’t remember what cuisine they served and the interior offered up no clues, either.

  Frank stealthily walked through the kitchen and into the dining area, keeping both shaking hands on the rifle. A rustling noise from the dining area made him turn in surprise and he saw the form of a woman on one knee as she manipulated an object in front of her. Taking a chance, Frank whispered at her. “Linda?”

  The woman whirled and raised a pistol, searching for the source of the voice. When she spotted Frank her eyes grew wide and she lowered the gun, her eyebrows scrunched into a mixture of confusion and angered surprise. “Frank? What the hell are you doing here?”

  Frank scuttled across the floor to her and saw that she was collecting items off of the ground and putting them into a backpack. “I had to turn off the road because of all the trucks. Never mind, that, though; why did you leave me behind?”

  Linda shook her head in frustration and turned back to her packing. “Frank, you need to get out of here right now, okay? I don’t need you on my conscience if something happens.”

  Frank grabbed Linda’s shoulder and spun her back around, hissing at her as he tried to remain quiet, though he was still unsure why. He glanced at her shirt and saw a large bloodstain on her left shoulder and several scrapes across her face and arms. “If something happens? What am I, a child? I helped you out once before, and you look like you could use it again. What happened, did you piss somebody off about fuel again?”

  Linda pushed Frank’s arm away and glowered at him. “Stay off me, Frank. And keep your voice down. These assholes mean business.”

  Frank rolled his eyes and looked out the front window of the restaurant. Across the street he could see the gas station and Bob’s Steak Shack, but there was no sign of the two men that had spotted previously. “Who do you mean, the two I saw running out a minute ago?”

  “You mean the two opportunistic assholes who decided to set up a roadblock on the highway to catch any travelers unawares?” Linda scowled as she glanced out the window. “Yeah, them. I think they must have towed those trailers there, blocked up the road so that anyone on the highway would have to pass through here. When I pulled off I hit some kind of spike trap. Blew out my tire and rolled the truck.”

  “Yeah, I saw. That’s how I knew you were here. Well that and the gunshots.”

  Linda shook her head. “Yeah. Anyway. When I came to, they had cut me out of my seatbelt—and sliced my shoulder up something good—and dragged me back to this little hellhole. They were in the midst of tying me up when they heard another car down the road.”

  Frank snorted. “Probably me.”

  “Well that’s another one I owe you for. I got loose, grabbed my gun and winged one of them. Then I managed to get around to here where they said they dumped my stuff.”

  “Nicely done.” Frank nodded approvingly. “One question for you. How is it that everyone’s decided to go crazy in less than twenty-four hours?”

  Linda looked at Frank as though he was speaking another language. “What’re you talking about? Frank, people are animals. The shit just hit the fan and they’re freaking out. By now every fuel station outside of places like this is going to be dry. Every store will be completely out of food by tomorrow. People are panicking and when people start to panic the vipers come out of their holes and start trying to take advantage of the situation.”

  Frank listened quietly as Linda whispered to him before zipping up her pack and throwing it on her shoulders. “So what is it you want to do now?”

  Linda looked at the rifle Frank still held. “Now? Now I think it’s time we cut the heads off a couple of vipers.”

  Frank recoiled, clutching the rifle. “You want to kill those two? Why don’t we just run?”

  Linda fixed him with a gaze and spoke with a tone that chilled him to the bone. “I’m not the first one to come through here, Frank. If you want to get an opinion from the other people who came through, you’d better call a psychic.”

  The blood drained from Frank’s face, both at the realization of what Linda was saying as well as how casually she was saying it. “What… how… who are you?”

  Linda stood up and walked over to Frank. She took the rifle from his hands, then handed him her pistol in return. “I’m the one who’s not going to turn into a corpse.”

  Chapter 10

  Frank followed Linda out the back of the restaurant and they slipped far enough into the woods that they couldn’t easily be seen. Now that he was back outside he could hear the shouts coming from town as the two men searched high and low for Linda.

  “You’re seriously going to kill them in cold blood?”

  “Cold blood? They killed two people already and were getting ready to kill me, too. They’re not getting the chance to do it to anyone else.”

  Frank groaned. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

  “Shut up.” Linda elbowed Frank in the ribs and pointed down the tree line. “Get down there to that defilade. If you see them, give
a whistle.”

  “Get to the what?” Frank looked down where Linda had pointed, confused about what she meant.

  “Defilade. The protected area, up on that incline.” Linda pointed again and Frank saw what she meant.

  “Right. On my way.” He slunk off through the woods, keeping an eye on the town. When he got to the spot Linda had indicated, he settled down into the dead leaves and surveyed the town. He could still hear the two men talking to each other, though it was impossible to make out exactly what they were saying. He looked back down to his left and watched as Linda crept away from him, keeping the rifle at the ready. Her every movement was that of a trained killer, and Frank suddenly felt incredibly nervous about the previous night when he had fallen asleep in the barn.

  After a moment he turned his attention back to the town and saw the two men crossing back over the street to a building directly down and in front of him. Nearly panicking at the sight, Frank whistled awkwardly, intending to make a sound like a bird but instead giving off a warbled sound like that of a parrot caught in the spin cycle of a washing machine.

  The two men whirled at the noise, bringing their weapons to bear as they searched for the source. Frank lowered his head and tried to blend in with the leaves and brush as much as possible, though he felt like he was sticking out like a sore thumb. As terrible as his whistling had been, it had the desired effect. From his left, Frank heard a shot ring out and saw a spray of blood from one of the two men as a large portion of his skull turned into a fine pink mist.

  The man’s friend jumped back and screamed at the sight, then began shooting in random directions with his shotgun. Frank ducked down as pellets sprayed over his head. When the man finally stopped shooting Frank peeked back over the defilade and saw the man running for cover across the road. Down to his left, Linda was laying down just off of the road, using a large bush and a slight incline to help hide her position.

  When the man with the shotgun stopped he was behind the last building down and across the road. He was breathing heavily and kept glancing between the body of his friend and his shotgun that he was desperately trying to reload. Even from across the street Frank could see the man’s hands shaking from fear. Frank started second-guessing the whole affair, wondering if Linda was really right about what the two men were doing. Maybe she’s lying about it. She was pretty scraped up, though… but what if these guys are innocent. Hell, what if the people at the gas station yesterday weren’t what she said, either?

  Frank was on the verge of standing up and shouting at the man to try and negotiate with him when another shot rang out from the hunting rifle. The edge of the building where the man tried to hide split open and a shower of splinters rained down as the bullet passed through the thin strips of wood and through the man’s upper torso. He howled in pain and dropped the rifle, clutching at the wound like a desperate animal.

  “No!” Frank jumped up and ran across the street towards the man. By the time Frank arrived, the man was lying on his side on the ground, the shotgun a few feet away. The man’s breathing was shallow and ragged and blood dripped from his mouth and pooled on the ground from the chest wound. Linda ran up a few seconds later and stared down at the man with a blank expression on her face.

  “Why did you have you kill them both?” Frank whirled and shouted at Linda. “Couldn’t you have just wounded them or something?”

  Linda shifted her gaze to Frank and looked at him for a few seconds before turning to point at a building down the road. “Go inside, up the stairs and through the first door on your right. I’ll wait for you out here.”

  By the time Frank returned several minutes later his face was ashen and he walked along slowly, shaking his head. Linda was busy dragging the bodies of the men into the gas station when he arrived and she stopped when she saw him and wiped the blood from her hands onto some rags.

  “Well?” Linda raised an eyebrow.

  “Those people were…” Frank shook his head.

  “Yep.”

  “And those two… they did all of that?”

  “Yep.”

  “I still don’t understand how people can be acting like this. It’s not even been a day! Has the entire world gone mad?”

  Linda gave a sympathetic smile and sighed. “Not the entire world, Frank. Look—there are plenty of bad people in it. We see that all the time. There are always people who are looking for any opportunity to take advantage of others no matter the situation. That’s where you get scum-suckers like this who crawl out of the woodwork the instant they get the chance. Then you have others, like the people at the gas station yesterday. They’re not bad people, they’re just desperate and scared and surrounded by other people who are desperate and scared.”

  “So where are the good people?”

  “Look in a mirror, Frank. Folks like yourself or the people you told me about who were helping others at the diner you were at yesterday. You got to see the best and worst of everyone right there at the start. People giving selflessly and people taking advantage of the situation.” Linda shrugged and turned away from Frank to look at the bodies lying on the floor. “For what it’s worth, though, I’m sorry I left you behind at the barn. It wasn’t right. I knew you were one of the good ones just based on how you acted at the gas station. I have… issues with trusting people. I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks. I just want to get back to Texas, to my folks. Somehow I don’t think I’m going to get any more assignments from the company I work for.” Frank shifted his gaze to look at the pair on the floor and shuddered. “You weren’t kidding about those two.”

  Linda looked at Frank for a long minute before responding. “Yeah, well, without your help it would have been two against one. I don’t like those odds even when I’m confident in myself. So thanks. I appreciate it.”

  Frank nodded and turned away, looking down the road that led off into the trees. “So, uh… what do we do now? Find a police station and report these guys to the cops?”

  Linda laughed. “I think the local constabulary have their hands full with other issues at the moment. No, I think we need to get moving.”

  “I parked the car you left for me—thanks for that by the way—back up the road a ways.”

  “You get all your stuff out of it?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  Linda motioned for Frank to follow her. “Come on. I’m pretty sure I saw a truck out behind one of the buildings.”

  As the pair walked along, a thought occurred to Frank. “How is it that this pair was alone here—well, aside from the couple who they… yeah.”

  Linda shrugged. “Small place like this isn’t so much a town as it is an economic center. Owners of the businesses here probably cleared out yesterday when everything hit the fan and went back to their homes. There are plenty of farms and isolated homes out here in the woods. These two assholes probably spent all of yesterday blocking up the highway and snagged their first catch late last night or before I drove through this morning.”

  “Jesus…” Frank shook his head at the cavalier way in which Linda talked about the two bodies Frank had seen in the second floor of the building. “Who are you, anyway? You barely told me anything about yourself before. And now all of this.” Frank was flabbergasted and began to sputter and stutter as he tried to express his exasperation.

  “We should get moving, Frank.” Linda walked on ahead, not bothering to answer his question. He stood in the road for a moment watching her go before finally walking after her, shaking his head and wondering if it was such a good idea to go with her after all.

  Chapter 11

  “Come on, rookie. Get your shit together!”

  Men wearing bulky padded armor and carrying tall shields and rifles pour into the armored personnel carrier. One of the first aboard, Dean Wilson, had his hiring ceremony three days ago. Hired to work as a patrol officer he’s now been inducted into the riot control squad, handed a shield and tear gas launcher and told to hold the line no matter the cost.


  He struggles to move his shield and rifle aside as the other, more experienced officers shuffle and push their way onto the vehicle. One of them sits next to him and pats him on the leg sympathetically.

  “Name’s Jim. You’re Dean, right?”

  Dean nods nervously.

  “Yeah, thought so. You’re the new guy. Shit break you got here, kid. Listen, just stick close to me, all right? We’ll make it out of this mess before you know it.”

  Dean gulps and nods again, though there is little reassurance to be found in the older officer’s words.

  “We’re moving out! Everybody hold on!” The announcement comes over the speakers as the vehicle roars to life and lurches forward. Dean clings to his rifle and his shield as though they are the only things keeping him alive. Fifteen minutes later the vehicle stops and the back drops open. Harsh sunlight pierces the interior, and Dean is suddenly grateful for the dark glasses he wears underneath his riot helmet.

  “Move, move, move!” The officers pour out of the APC and begin running down the street. A block away stands a line of riot police that have been on duty for only a few hours, but their lines are starting to break. Tens of thousands of people surge forward against the officers. Tear gas is fired into the crowd but it does little good. Rocks and flaming bottles of alcohol are launched in long arcs against the police, injuring a few and rattling their nerves. There is shouting from bullhorns that order the people back to their homes, though these instructions are completely ignored.

  Dean looks around in amazement at the chaos as he runs to help support the line. Everywhere he looks there are people engaged in both acts of violence and acts of compassion. A small group of volunteers wearing bright red crosses on their shirts helps remove the helmet from an officer who was injured. Lying next to him is a rioter whose heavily bleeding arm is bandaged before he is put on a stretcher.