by Mike Kraus
Bobbing his head up and down, already distracted from Sam, David motioned to the door. “Yes, well, we have more problems here. Those things did quite a number on the door. They damaged it enough that I’m not sure we’ll be able to get in.
Rachel took the more powerful flashlight from David’s hand, trading him her EL light as she examined the door. The solid steel had suffered massive damage, with huge dents and gouges running from top to bottom and side to side. Ironically, in their attempt to force open the door, the creatures had in fact caused it to remain shut by jamming the locking mechanism. This removed all hope of unlocking the door through conventional means, so Rachel began to search for an alternate way to force it open.
“Do you have any tools?” Rachel spoke to David, who shook his head, throwing his empty hands into the air.
“None at all. As soon as the EMP went off, I hurried down here as fast as I could.”
“Hmmm.” Rachel looked around in the hall, her flashlight probing the corners and ceilings for anything she could use to gain some leverage over the broken door.
A step ahead, Marcus walked up next to her, holding a long piece of rebar that he had forced from the floor where it had landed after being dislodged from the ceiling. Placing it into the door mechanism, Marcus put his full weight on the other end of the bar, attempting to lever the mechanism back into the door from where it was jammed into the frame.
For the first few seconds, nothing happened, then a loud squeal of metal tore through the hall, causing Rachel and David to put their hands up to their ears while Marcus winced painfully at the sound. Almost immediately, though, the door mechanism flew back into place and the door sprung open, sending Marcus stumbling forward as the rebar fell to the floor, striking his foot.
Stifling a pained yelp, Marcus leaned on the wall to regain his balance. David rushed to his side, checking that he was all right while Rachel peeked into the room, sweeping it with her flashlight and rifle.
“Come on in, boys. It’s time to get to work.”
Rachel wore a huge grin as she spoke, sounding genuinely happy. Marcus smiled and shook his head as he followed David into the room, watching as Rachel sunk back into “scientist mode” as she spoke with David, the two of them pointing at various spots on the device in front of them. Leading Sam to the wall opposite the doorway, Marcus sat down and leaned against it, taking his pistol out and readying it in case any more creatures showed up. Now that they had finally reached Bertha, it was up to Rachel and David to run the show.
Somewhere in Iowa
Well-equipped for off-road travel, the unusual-looking vehicle has two seats and a large rear caged storage area in which the driver has placed his supplies. The black gun case sits lengthwise in the side seat next to him, strapped down with a seatbelt whose color does not match that of the cloth seat. Most of the car is full of mismatching parts, having been assembled from nearly a dozen vehicles over the course of a year by the driver himself.
Built as the result of a dream, the vehicle contains no computers of any kind, meaning that it was among the few vehicles unaffected by the EMPs when the bombs hit. During the journey to the village, the man insisted that the vehicle not be used for transport, having it hauled behind a pair of horses instead. As with all things, the man’s orders were unquestionably obeyed, and the vehicle was hidden out of sight, safely tucked away for a time when it was most needed.
Cutting between roads and fields, the man uses his knowledge of the area to anticipate where the intruders are traveling, shortening his path to catch up and overtake them so that he can lie in wait for them at their next stop. He knows that they have no food or water, and they are undoubtedly unarmed as well. He puts more pressure on the gas pedal and the vehicle flies through a dilapidated fence, the large tires unharmed by the barbed wire on the other side.
Thoughts of his sons swirl in his mind, unbidden and unwelcome, yet he cannot keep from considering them. The death of the youngest of his two sons weighs heavy on his heart despite his stoic outer appearance. In truth, the man has considered his youngest son to be dead for years, ever since he and his older brother grew into their teenage years. Raised by a single father, the sons viciously disliked their father’s path, rebelling and lashing out in violent and unpredictable ways.
After a few years of tolerating the dissent in his family, the man finally reacted—some would say overreacted, though he denies that fact to this day—and declared his sons dead to him. No longer welcome in their own home and shunned by their father, they quickly fell further into a life of crime and treachery. The pivotal moment in their lives came when they committed their first murder. Sentenced to years in prison, their father refused to see or speak to them before they were locked away, unable to make contact with the outside world for the first year of their sentence.
Though the man would never admit it, he still holds regret for not at least doing the simple act of looking his sons in the eye as they were led out of court. Required to be present for their sentencing, the man kept his eyes averted from them throughout the hearing, leaving as soon as he was able. Already a powerful figure in his small community, the loss of his sons to what he called “the way of the Devil” led him to quickly isolate and virtually enslave his followers. Armed with devious emotional manipulation, the man exerted an iron will over those in his village, determined to ensure that none of them would follow in the way of his sons.
Losing himself in the development and growth of his community, the man continued the abandonment of his sons, letting the months and years pass without going so far as to make contact with them. Their lives consisted of a never-ending cycle of incarceration with brief stints of freedom, lost forever from the only family member they knew. Only now, after the death of the man’s sons, does he feel regret. He refuses to acknowledge it, though, forcing himself to channel the regret into anger and the sorrow into revenge.
The intruders killed his son, destroyed his flock and annihilated his village. “For that,” he thinks, forcing his vehicle to go faster, “they will die.”
Later in the day—the time is unknown to the man, who pays no attention to it—he pulls his vehicle to a stop and climbs out. He stands on the edge of a large city, near stores and shops full of the supplies he knows the intruders will need. He hides his vehicle quickly, obscuring it from view of the main road, and enters a nearby building, once home to a large electronics retailer. Positioned in view of three of the four nearest stores containing vital supplies, the man wagers that this is the best place to attack the intruders once they make themselves known.
Driving towards the town, the man caught sight of the intruder’s vehicle only once, far in the distance, as it created a plume of dust from driving through an empty field. Steering well clear of it, the man was able to make it into the city with a twenty or thirty minute lead, or so he assumed. Knowing he needs every second of the time to prepare, he quickly lays the black case out on the floor, opening it and removing the two pieces of the rifle contained within.
Assembly of the thirty pound rifle is quick: extend the barrel, engage the spring, lock the upper section to the lower and insert a ten-round magazine. The man’s ammunition pouches are filled with both regular and incendiary rounds, with enough penetrating power to punch through two inches of solid steel and still destroy whatever is on the opposite side.
Placing the heavy rifle on the floor near the entrance to the electronics store, he extends the bipod under the barrel and lays down behind the rifle, scooting it closer to his shoulder. He releases the catches on both ends of his scope and looks through it, turning on the targeting computer attached on the top. A relatively simple device, the targeting computer allows the man to adjust the scope to zero in on specific ranges, from 100 to 2,000 yards. Without the need to calculate the range by hand, the man quickly zeroes the scope of the rifle in on the front of the building across the street. Roughly halfway between the other two buildings within view, he hopes that it will afford him a q
uick shot should the intruders only stop for a brief period of time.
Though it’s been months since the man has had the opportunity to fire the rifle, every curve feels familiar as he settles his shoulder in and rests his head on the stock, his eyes scanning the distance for any sign of the intruders. He isn’t sure that he’ll be able to penetrate their armored vehicle if they don’t get out of it, but he has no doubts about the fact that he will kill them, one way or another. Whether it’s here or a thousand miles away, he will destroy them.
Leonard McComb | Nancy Sims
8:30 AM, April 12, 2038
After driving through the night with Nancy sleeping in the seat next to him, Leonard was exhausted. Invigoration came with the sight of road signs stating that the city of Sioux Falls was a mere twenty miles away, a fact that Leonard was extremely grateful for. The massive fuel tank of the armored vehicle was enough to take them for hundreds of miles without having to be refilled, but the needle was tipping dangerously close to the left end of the meter.
As with most of the other cities they drove through, the number of cars in the road increased dramatically outside the city limits and quickly blossomed into a full-fledged traffic jam by the time Leonard and Nancy were only a few miles out. Coming in from the east along the main road through the city, Leonard scarcely contained a cry of excitement as the still-standing silhouettes of half a dozen big box retailers rose into view. A veritable fleet of 18-wheelers was parked behind the nearest store, and Leonard quickly wheeled into the parking lot, winding through the rows of parked cars to the loading docks behind the building.
The cloud cover that had consumed the sky for most of Leonard and Nancy’s drive finally lifted shortly before dawn, leading to a glorious sunrise that lit the path in front of them. Though a few dark clouds were still visible on the horizon behind them, the sky above and forward was refreshingly clear. The light had fully illuminated the interior of the APC, but Nancy hadn’t stirred throughout the night and morning.
Leonard gently shook Nancy, waking her from her deep sleep and surprising her by how light it was outside. He had wanted to let her continue sleeping, but Leonard had no idea what dangers lurked in the city. The parking lot looked clear, but before he got out to refill the APC’s fuel tank, he wanted to make sure Nancy could cover him with the rifle.
“Did… where are we?” Nancy’s eyes were still glassy from sleep and her speech was muddled as she took the rifle Leonard handed her.
“Sioux Falls, South Dakota. I need to refill the tanks; can you keep watch while I do it?”
Nancy nodded and slowly opened her door, following Leonard around to the side of the APC where he was already unfastening the cap on the fuel tank. Pulling a long length of hose from under the driver’s seat, he began to siphon fuel from the closest 18-wheeler, spitting out the small amount of diesel in his mouth with disgust. Nancy handed him a bottle of water which he gladly took, swishing a mouthful around before he spat it on the ground.
Walking slowly around the perimeter of the APC, Nancy kept the rifle lowered as she looked around them, shielding her eyes from the sun with one hand. The dark black asphalt of the parking lot was already beginning to heat up under the intense sunlight, though a cold breeze blowing through quickly shattered any illusions of warmth.
Across the street from the parking lot sat another lot, at least five times as large, in front of a sprawling complex of clothing, sporting goods, jewelry and other similar shops. Though the landscape was somewhat different here than where Nancy used to live, she recognized the names of the stores that surrounded them, having shopped at them frequently. Cold, tired and hungry, she leaned against the APC and looked down at her rifle, scarcely believing what she had become. Noticing her bemused expression as she stared at her gun, Leonard stood next to her.
“Anything wrong? Besides the usual, I mean.”
Nancy shook her head and looked up at Leonard. “Nah, I’m fine. I just never quite imagined that I’d be doing this for my career path.” Hefting the rifle up to look at it closer, she continued speaking. “A few weeks ago I was getting ready for my new job, packing my clothes and looking forward to warmer weather. Now I’m standing here in the freezing cold guarding an armored car while we siphon gas from the wreckage of the world.”
Leonard took the rifle from Nancy and gave her a half smile as he led her around the APC. “Working in the sewage system of New York City certainly seems preferable to all of this, I’ll say that much. Come on, let’s check out this store here while we wait for the tank to fill.”
Leonard and Nancy hopped up on the loading docks and walked to the nearest delivery entrance that was covered with thick strips of plastic, making it easy to walk through, but helping to keep the heat in and the cold out. Leonard pushed through slowly, giving his eyes time to adjust to the dark interior of the store. Huge boxes surrounded the pair as they walked through the back of the store, examining the shelves for any of the supplies that they needed.
The interior of the store was deathly quiet, and every scrape of Leonard and Nancy’s shoes echoed through the aisles. Most of the boxes in the back were still closed, making it hard to tell what was in them, so they continued moving forward until they reached the doorway that separated the main store from the back. The only light in this area of the store came from large glass windows at the front, barely enough to illuminate the main aisles.
The stench of rotting food hit Leonard square in the face as he opened the door to the main section of the store. He gasped loudly and pulled his shirt up over his face as Nancy repeated his gasp and face-covering motion behind him. Thousands of pounds of refrigerated and frozen foods had spoiled, and the packaging that most were in wasn’t enough to contain the odor they gave off.
Hurrying through the back of the store, Leonard and Nancy started to pass aisles filled with canned and packaged foods that hadn’t been damaged or spoiled. Half-filled and empty shopping carts were strewn throughout the store, evidence of the individuals who had been shopping on the evening when the bombs fell. Immediately hungry upon seeing the rows of food and bottled drinks, Nancy began to scoop them into an empty shopping cart, moving from aisle to aisle while Leonard kept watch.
Once she had filled a cart to the brim, Nancy pushed it out next to Leonard who was eyeing the front of the store with a nervous glance.
“This should be enough, don’t you think?”
Leonard barely glanced at the cart before muttering a response. “Yep, looks good.” Squinting, he tried to see through the glare in the windows in the front of the store, wondering if the movement he had spotted a moment ago was just a trick of the light.
“What’s wrong?”
A thundering explosion of glass and a shower of grape juice from behind Leonard and Nancy confirmed that the movement in front of the store hadn’t been just a trick of the light. The large windows at the front of the store cracked and shattered, falling to the ground in showers of glass. A second and third shot followed the first, the impact of the rounds arriving before the sound of them being fired. Standing in the middle of the main store aisle, Leonard and Nancy were exposed to the front of the store, and Leonard quickly pushed Nancy back into a side aisle, pulling their shopping cart behind him.
“What the hell was that?” Nancy shouted, sinking down behind a pallet of flour sacks for cover.
Keeping his body behind cover while he peeked out, Leonard tried to pinpoint the source of the shots, but with his limited vantage point, he couldn’t see much more than the parking lot directly in front of the store. Leonard shoved Nancy farther down the aisle as another boom sounded, right after a display stand next to Leonard shattered from the impact. Bright flames leapt from the remains of the case, the phosphorous burning hot and bright in the dimly lit store.
“Get going! We need to get out of here now!”
Nancy needed no further encouragement and she ran for the back of the store, staying as close to the wall as possible. Leonard was tempted to re
turn fire on the unknown assailant, but without even a general idea of where he or she was firing from, it would only serve to waste the last bit of ammunition they had left. Pushing the shopping cart ahead of him, Leonard stayed behind Nancy, determined to keep their stop from being completely fruitless. With the food in the cart at hand and the fuel that had been siphoning into the APC, Leonard was confident that they would be able to make it several hundred more miles without stopping. Unless whoever was shooting at them was following them, Leonard hoped that would be enough to get them out of harm’s way.
Marcus Warden | Rachel Walsh | David Landry
9:15 AM, April 12, 2038
The sound of metal scraping against metal woke Marcus, who jumped to his feet in surprise, not realizing that he had fallen asleep sometime in the middle of the night. Working on Bertha, Rachel and David paid no notice to his sudden movement, though Sam raised his head and stared, wondering why Marcus was so excited. After coming to his senses, Marcus slowly sat back down, rubbing his eyes and holding his head in a vain attempt to ward off the headache he could feel starting to build behind his eyes.
