SHATTER: Epoch’s End Book 2: (A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller Series) (Epoch's End)

by Mike Kraus

  At first, she wasn’t sure she should use the saw since they were still relying on generator power. After considering how long it would take her to do it by hand, though, the fuel consumption made much more sense. Plus, it would save her a lot of work and blisters, a welcome relief after the events and bruises from the previous day.

  “If we don’t have enough wood,” Barbara said as she drove them back to the house, “we might have to take apart some barn walls.”

  Linda’s eyes widened. “Won’t that leave it wide open?”

  “We can take it from the stall walls, I meant,” she clarified. “It’ll look ugly on the inside, but still be fine on the outside.

  “Got it.”

  They moved the pair of sawhorses into place on the patio and ran an extension cord straight to the outside outlet near to where the large generator continued to hum gently on the side of the house. Barbara tested the saw, holding it up and squeezing the trigger, listening as it sparked to life and jumped in her hand. With goggles over her eyes, she began cutting the scrap wood into perfectly-cut pieces, letting Linda carry them off to lean them against the house beneath each window. Sawdust floated in the air, the scent of cut wood tickling her sinuses with a charred smell, and she soon fell into a steady rhythm of measure, cut, measure, cut, repeated ad nauseum. It took most of the afternoon to get everything cut, and when she was done, she took the rest of the small stack that Linda hadn’t already laid out and loaded them into the Gator.

  With the sky turning overcast and the wind whipping them with a biting chill, they drove to the first window they wanted to cover. She and Linda held the heavy piece of wood in place while Jack used a pencil to mark the frames with drill spots, then Barbara drilled the pilot holes and stepped back, glancing up at the growing dusk.

  “Okay, it’s getting dark and cold. Let’s pick up the pace so we can get these all done. We’re ready to screw this puppy in; can you guys hold it in place?”

  The piece was heavy, so Barbara helped them get it in position before letting go to grab the drill. With the kids grunting and groaning, Jack’s face pressed against the wood as he leaned his full weight on it, she quickly ran screws and washers in, securing it in place. She’d cut it perfectly to size, giving an inch of space along the sides to peer out of so that they could monitor the backyard and road without compromising the protection and security the boards offered. They applied the rest of the panels all around the house until late afternoon turned into early evening and they could barely see without a flashlight. Exhausted and bruised, they parked the Gator around back and started to go inside, but Barbara slapped her palm against her forehead.

  “I think we’ll have these up for a long enough time that we should seal them. That way they won’t rot from the weather. We should’ve done it before putting them on but… well, one coat on the outside can only help.”

  “What’s sealer?” Linda asked.

  “It’s a chemical mixture that we apply to the wood,” Barbara touched her chin. “And I think we have some of that out in the barn.”

  They drove out and picked up a can of sealer, paint pans, and two rollers, then they went to each window and rolled a coating on by the light of electric lanterns. It took them all of thirty minutes to complete, and they did a final inspection, strolling around the house with the petrochemical stench of paint thinner and chemicals hanging heavy in the air.

  “It looks like a fortress from out here,” Linda commented.

  “It kind of does,” Barbara admitted. “They’ll need an axe to get through that. Even if they do, there’ll still be a layer of glass waiting for them – plus a few more surprises.”

  She glanced at her watch and saw it was 7:23 PM. It was getting cold out, and she was starting to feel it in her bones. “I’ll tell you what. It’s late. I’ll start working on dinner while you guys check the animals. After we eat, we’ll figure out something fun to do.”

  The kids ran off to check the animals for the night, and Barbara went in to start dinner. A quick look in the fridge leftovers from their past three meals, so they’d eat those up before making something new, especially with so much work ahead of her and tomorrow’s list of tasks looming large overhead. Finalize a power plan, locate some barbed wire – as a visual deterrent more than anything else – and put up a barrier to so the animals wouldn’t wander into the front yard, the latter of which might involve building a small corral in back.

  “Slow down,” she reminded herself with a murmur. “Baby steps.”

  As much as she tried to relax, Barbara couldn’t keep her brain from racing. Shredding leftover chicken from the bone, she fixed them sandwiches and re-heated the leftover mashed potatoes, sauerkraut, and sausages from the previous evening as she thought through the immediate tasks, going over what each would entail. By the time the kids were done checking the animals, Barbara had everything on the table and ready to go, the rich sour smell of salt and peppered sauerkraut drifting through the house. They joked while they ate, the kids laughing and feeding Smooch scraps while Barbara glanced at boarded-up back door and kitchen window.

  “It’s so strange,” she murmured. “Feels like we’re slowly barricading ourselves inside.”

  Linda followed her eyes to the back window. “But it’s really to keep people out, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  Toward the tail end of dinner, Barbara stood, shouldered her carbine, and stepped out onto the back patio, strolling around the house in the darkness, looking back to see if the inside lights were noticeable. The air was frigid and she pulled her light jacket tight to herself as she stepped away from the house, looking back at it every few feet to try and locate any vulnerabilities. Just a faint wink of light seeped out from the kitchen and living room windows, but the master bathroom window was completely dark. They might have to throw blankets or cloths over the blinds to block them totally out, but it wouldn’t be a big deal, and she mentally added the task to tomorrow’s to-do list.

  As she checked and re-checked things in her mind, the sound of car engines caught her attention. It wasn’t just one vehicle, like she had grown used to – and weary of – hearing, but several at a time, then more, the noise growing the longer she stood still. Her belly clenched as she unslung her carbine and crept over to their van and pickup and circled the corner of the house, staring down at Wyndale Road.

  The two-lane connector road wasn’t just a back country road, but it also served to join several major highways and I-81 itself, and whenever the major thoroughfares were shut down, Wyndale would always take the overflow, their little neck of the woods suddenly flooded with headlights and the sounds of engines.

  Gazing down at the road, she saw a handful of cars drive by, followed by another group. More joined them, and soon a few grew into a line of ten or twenty. Within fifteen minutes, it was almost bumper-to-bumper traffic, the rumble of car engines filling the air, exhaust fumes riding up the slope. Standing in the driveway, she stared in awe as the headlights washed the surrounding hills in light.

  “What in the hell is going on now?”

  Static crackled, and Darren’s voice came out of nowhere. “Barbara, this is Darren. Are you there? Go ahead.”

  Startled, she looked around to see if the man had somehow snuck up on her, then she chuckled uneasily, realizing his voice came from the radio on her belt. She snatched it off and put it to her mouth, keeping an eye on the traffic.

  “I’m here, Darren. You’ll never guess what I’m looking at. Go ahead.”

  “I’d say it’s an endless line of cars.”

  “That’s right. I guess you can see it, too.”

  “Yep. I’m looking at it now from our bedroom window upstairs.” The man didn’t sound terribly worried, but the radio had a way of stripping the tone from their voices.

  “Think it’s overflow from the highway?”

  “Yep. I’ve been monitoring the news all morning on my shortwave receiver. Seems like the traffic is from folks evacuating fro
m the northern states.”

  “You mean, from everywhere up north?”

  “Nail on the head. I’ll bet if you went down and looked at all those license plates, you’d see Ohio, Kentucky, West Virginia, and Pennsylvania. You might even catch a few from Canada.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “Rumors are that the feds are actually encouraging people to leave their homes and go south.”

  “Why?” Barbara asked as she sidestepped to her front porch and sat on the edge, watching the headlights flow past in a slow trickle.

  “I’ve heard it’s for a lot of different reasons. Terrorist threats, rioting in coastal cities after the storms, stuff like that. My bet is that I-81 is packed with cars. Folks are exiting at Abingdon and taking alternate routes, one of which happens to pass right through our front yards.”

  “Oh, no.” Barbara bit her lip, eyes following the cars down the road before shifting back to the left to trace the next group going by. “If what you’re saying is true, this won’t be the usual short detour we’re used to seeing. This could last for days.”

  “That’s right. Or weeks.”

  “Where, exactly, are they telling them to go?”

  “Apparently, the feds have set up shelters along the Gulf Coast and Mexican border. They’re saying it’s just temporary, and people can go back home in a few weeks.”

  Barbara held the radio with both hands. “Seems strange to be telling people to go south. I mean, folks are starting to panic, but the men who attacked us last night wanted to go west, not south.”

  “Mhmm. Makes me wonder if there’s more to that little temperature story they’ve been telling us than they’re letting on.”

  Barbara’s shoulders clenched as she was reminded of the strange chill in the air, her breath showing up in faint traces of mist. “I tend to agree with that. And I’d bet those folks aren’t going back home in a few weeks. It could be months.”

  “Maybe even years,” Darren piled on. “The Northern Hemisphere might become uninhabitable come winter if the temps keep dropping like they are.”

  She bit her lip. “Should we think about evacuating?”

  “Not yet. Between us, we’ve got good shelter and food stores, and we’d be fools to leave it all behind. Plus, Tom’s on his way back, and you need to be here when he arrives.”

  Crossing one arm on her chest, she stared hard at the cars going by. “So, we just hunker down and try to stay warm?”

  “And work on those defenses.”

  “Like the wood panels we put over the windows tonight,” she replied. “Hey, Darren. Would you happen to have any barbed wire around? Maybe razor wire? I want to make folks who don’t know better think twice about crossing the fence line.”

  “I’ve got a single roll of the stuff, but I’ve got a friend who might have more. Maybe we can pay him a visit soon.”

  “That sounds good, Darren. Thanks for the information, and the help.”

  “No problem. Happy to assist. You stay safe tonight. Keep an eye on the road. If any trouble comes your way, don’t hesitate to radio.”

  “You too,” Barbara said. “Talk to you later.”

  “Bye.”

  She held the radio in her hands for a minute, staring down at the endless caravan of vehicles. Sedans, vans, and big rigs packed with people and belongings cruised by, engines revving, horns honking, creating a din of noise that was sure to only get worse. All it would take was one of them breaking down or deciding to park in their driveway to put her family in danger yet again.

  She’d already locked the front door, so Barbara stood and walked hurriedly around to the back of the house. Embraced by the warmth of the house, she was pleased to find the kids already cleaning up. From the key rack in the hallway, she grabbed the Astro van keys and started to go back outside.

  “Wait, Mom!” Linda called, coming in from the kitchen. “Is something wrong?”

  “Not yet,” she replied. A frightened look appeared on the girl’s face, and Barbara quickly put her mind at ease. “It’s nothing serious, I promise. There are just some cars on the road, heading south. It’s a traffic jam and I want to pull the van down to block our driveway.”

  “Want me to come?”

  “Nope. I want you to stay here and keep cleaning up. I’ll be right back.”

  Barbara exited the house, jangling the keys in her hand as she opened the van door, unslung her carbine, and placed it in the passenger seat. After climbing in and starting it up, she pulled slowly down the gravel driveway, approaching the line of traffic in a light cloud of dust. Narrowing her eyes at the cars rumbling along at ten miles per hour, her headlights reflected off windows, masking the shadowy faces watching her from inside.

  When she reached the end of her driveway, Barbara pulled sideways and parked so no one could drive right up to their house, flicking the lights off and killing the engine. There were ditches and partial fencing on either side, so the only way anyone could bring a vehicle up was if it was a large four-wheel-drive one. Satisfied she’d blocked any immediate, easy entry, Barbara got out with her carbine and stood by the van car, cradling the weapon loosely. Headlights off, doors locked, she watched folks glancing at her and the rifle before averting their eyes, choosing to mind their own business over risking raising the ire of a strange woman bearing a rifle and a sour expression.

  People didn’t seem to be looking for trouble, and after a few minutes of watching she made her way back up to the house, turning to watch the passing traffic when she reached the top. After the events of the last day, she wasn’t looking for another sleepless night, waiting for someone to knock down their fence or try to get onto the property, though with Smooch injured and locked inside, she wouldn’t have much warning until someone was at their doorstep. While she felt a little better about having some ground floor defenses up, they still had a lot to do the following morning.

  Barbara circled to the back and entered the house through the kitchen to find the kids weren’t there. They’d left the place in perfect condition with just the breakfast nook light on as well as a candle burning on the table, the scent of cinnamon permeating the house, helping to extinguish the lingering traces of sauerkraut.

  “Kids, where are you?”

  “In here, Mom!”

  Barbara moved down the hallway and took a left into the dining room where Linda and Jack stood by the front window, peering through the gap they’d left to watch outside, both of them carefully monitoring the road.

  “We watched you come up, Mom. There’s a lot of cars down there.” Jack intoned, pointing out the obvious.

  “Darren said they’re part of an evacuation.”

  “What’s an evacu...vacu...” The boy’s eyes scrunched up as he tried pronouncing the word.

  Linda scoffed. “An evacuation is when people have to leave one place and move to another.”

  “Very good.”

  “But why are all those people leaving?” She continued. “Did someone make them?”

  “Is it because of the storm?” Jack piled his question on top.

  “Darren and I think it might be because of the temperature change the president talked about.”

  “Everything’s getting colder?”

  “Yep, especially up north of us. So, the government is asking people to drive south. And there are so many people doing it at the same time that they’re clogging the main roads, so people are driving on the smaller ones, like ours.”

  “Are they going to hurt us like those bad men?”

  “I hope not,” Barbara admitted.

  “Smooch can’t protect us now,” the boy said. “She’s hurt.”

  “That’s true.” She rested her hand on the boy’s head as the reality of the task loomed before her. Remaining vigilant for a few hours or a day was easy – keeping watch all the time would take a lot of work. “But at least we have protection on our windows now, right? And I’ll stay up a little later tonight and keep watch.”

  “Can I help?” Lin
da asked.

  “Maybe.”

  Linda must have heard the doubt in her mother’s voice, as her face took on a hurt look. “I can do it, Mom. I won’t fall asleep on watch or anything.”

  Barbara smiled, doing her best to avoid muting her daughter’s enthusiasm. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll take first shift and wake you up for the late morning shift. If you still want to do it then, you can.”

  Linda nodded enthusiastically.

  “And your job will be to come get me if you see anything strange or if Smooch starts barking.”

  “Okay,” Linda said, voice rising with excitement, head still nodding. “No problem. I can do it.”

  “What are we going to do tonight?” Jack asked, stepping away from the blinds, the cars rolling by forgotten. “You said we were going to do something fun.”

  Barbara rested her hand on her hip. “Popcorn and a movie?” While I look out the window every few minutes.

  The kids both nodded enthusiastically.

  “Can we watch up in Sam’s room?” Jack glanced down the hall where the men had died.

  “I was thinking we could pull the love seat over where the couch used to be and pile on.” Barbara looked at her children hopefully. When neither of them responded, she shrugged. “What?”

  “He calls it the dead guy room now,” Linda dipped her head at her brother.

  Barbara winced, patting Jack sympathetically. “I understand you don’t want to hang out where those guys died.” An assuring smile flashed across her face. “Sure, we can watch a movie upstairs tonight. It’ll be easier for me to keep an eye on the road anyway.”

  Jack gave a happy jump and spun in his socks. “Can Smooch watch with us?”

  “Of course,” Barbara laughed. “You guys get everything set up. Make sure we have lots of pillows.”

  “Done!” Linda shouted, and the pair bolted upstairs, leaving her alone in the dining room. Barbara turned back to the window and peered through the gap, leaning, watching as the cars and trucks rolled by, an endless river of humanity flowing ever southward.