Final Dawn: Season 2 (The Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Series)

by Mike Kraus

  This is, without a doubt, total and complete suicide.

  Leonard McComb | Nancy Sims

  6:25 AM, April 21, 2038

  “Dmitry! Get up on deck! Take the forward exit, starboard side, and get your rifle!”

  Commander Krylov shouted the orders through the intercom where they were relayed to Dmitry Dudchyk who was fast at work in the kitchen. Upon hearing his name being bellowed by the commander, he sprinted down the hall toward the armory, throwing his apron off in the process. At the armory he retrieved his rifle, a VS-8 chambered in the powerful .338 Lapua Magnum round. With a suppressor half as long as a man’s arm bolted on to the front, the VS-8 was still not completely silent, but the suppressor allowed it to be fired from long distances without immediately giving away one’s position.

  After scrambling to the bottom of the stairs that led up to the deck, Dmitry pushed a nearby intercom button and reported his ready status to the commander. Krylov’s next orders were given in haste, with an urgency behind them that made Dmitry’s hairs stand on end.

  “Two individuals are pinned down by explosive sniper fire from the end of the pier. Get yourself on the deck and put rounds down at the shooter’s position. We need him to cease firing long enough to get these people on board so we can interrogate them. Don’t kill the shooter, just get him to stop firing!”

  “Understood, sir!”

  Dmitry didn’t wait for another reply from Krylov. He bounded up the stairs to the hatch that had been opened by two other crewmembers who were standing by. After peeking over the edge of the hatch, Dmitry saw that a direct line of sight to the shooter’s position was impossible from inside the ship thanks to a large crane at the end of the docks that blocked his view. Dressed in black to match the color of the Arkhangelsk’s hull, Dmitry crawled out onto the hull and hurried back toward the sail as he listened to the gunshots and explosions continue to echo over the water.

  After crawling a dozen feet, Dmitry pushed himself up into a crouching position and stared through his rifle scope along the length of the pier. The two individuals taking shelter from the shooter appeared as though they were half-dead already thanks to the constant fire they were taking from a group of rocks back toward the shore. Dmitry steadied his rifle against the sloping hulk of the Arkhangelsk’s sail, trying to keep his body hidden as much as possible while he got a fix on the shooter.

  Krylov didn’t want to immediately kill the shooter without knowing what forces he was dealing with. With no background information on either the shooter or his targets, Krylov needed more time to make up his mind on who to take aboard. One thing was for certain though, no matter what happened, he needed to get someone on the submarine who could tell him what had happened to the world.

  Ten agonizingly slow seconds after putting his eye to the scope, Dmitry finally spotted his opponent’s scope from the sun reflecting off of it as he jostled the rifle around, reloading another ten-round magazine. Dmitry wasted no time in taking his shot after he acquired the target. Placing the target slightly above the center of his scope reticle, Dmitry squeezed off a shot, watching as the round impacted on the rocks a few feet below the shooter’s position. Dmitry’s constant, round-the-clock practice on the rifle had increased his skills a hundred fold and he was certain that he could have hit the shooter, but Krylov’s orders were clear: don’t kill the shooter.

  The spray of rocks from Dmitry’s shot had an immediate effect. Samuel ducked down low, alarmed by the sudden introduction of opposing fire from an unknown source. An instant after the round impacted on the rocks, Samuel heard the squeal of a megaphone from the direction of the submarine that had stopped a hundred feet beyond the APC, at the end of the pier. Samuel was too far from the submarine to tell what they were saying, but he realized that the submarine had to be where the return fire was originating from. Devils! Monsters! You will not escape! Samuel scurried down the back side of the rocks, hurrying to change positions so that he could try to take out the counter-sniper who—he assumed—was firing from the deck of the submarine.

  Closer to the Arkhangelsk, in front of their APC, Leonard and Nancy heard the sound of the thick Russian accent quite clearly as it burst from the ship’s external megaphone.

  “Get yourselves on board now! Hurry!”

  The shot that had come from the direction of the submarine and flew over the APC to land at the rocks where Samuel was shooting from had caused the explosive firing to cease, for the moment at least. The only question left on Leonard and Nancy’s minds was whether or not the Russians on board the submarine could be trusted. Having started off their journey expecting the submarine to be abandoned, Leonard and Nancy had continued onward even after encountering the sub’s radio transmissions, though they had no idea what to expect.

  “In this case,” Leonard said, pulling Nancy to her feet, “we should probably go with the devil that we don’t know, seeing as that the devil we do know is trying to murder us.” With a quick look back at the APC, Leonard ran forward pulling Nancy up beside him and propelling her in front, running toward the sub.

  Upon seeing the two individuals running toward the Arkhangelsk, Krylov yelled into the intercom, ordering his men to get to the deck immediately. “Get a plank out there, now!” He leaned over the sail and shouted down to Dmitry next, who still had his gaze trained on the rocks. “Keep that sniper down, Dmitry!”

  Dmitry shouted a quick “Da!” and continued scanning the rocks. After the first shot, the sniper had vanished, disappearing behind the outcropping without firing another bullet. His sudden disappearance worried Dmitry, though the break in firing didn’t last for long.

  Rachel Walsh | Marcus Warden | David Landry

  6:10 AM, April 21, 2038

  The short gap between the APC and the front of the lead train engine was small, but from Rachel’s perspective it took a lifetime to cross. B-movie reels flashed through her head as she pictured countless train scenes where the main character performed actions similar to hers. Rachel nearly laughed at the thought, remembering how absurd such actions seemed from her couch. Her action, on the other hand, seemed like the most reasonable one, though she was quickly beginning to regret it.

  The noise of the train engine was overwhelming, rattling Rachel’s bones as the vibrations threatened to make her lose her grip. Searing heat shot through her hands and forearms and she began to move along the front of the engine quickly, hoping that she wasn’t being burned too badly. Two welded steel rods about four feet apart ran around the whole train engine forming a foothold and handhold for Rachel to use. Moving to them, she quickly maneuvered to the right side of the train where a window was located. Hooking one foot inside, she pulled herself through, relieved that she had managed to avoid falling off of the train.

  After climbing from the front of the train engine into the compartment, Rachel thought that she would just be able to shut down the engine, but it wasn’t that simple. The controls had been jammed into place by the body of one of the creatures who had collapsed onto them when the EMP was generated by Bertha. While this normally wouldn’t have been a problem, the creature at the controls was enormous, having apparently been a grossly overweight person when they were mutated by the nanobots. Rachel tried to squeeze past the body to reach the controls, but the creature was at least four hundred pounds, making it impossible for Rachel to do anything to slow down or stop the train.

  Looking around, Rachel remembered that the lead engine wasn’t the only one connected to the train, and was certainly not the only one that was actively pulling the train cars behind them. She ran to the back of the engine compartment and slid open a narrow doorway. After stepping across a small gap to the next engine in line, she entered that compartment and began looking around for its controls. The second engine in line was an entirely different model than the first and its layout was radically different as well.

  A moment of searching was all it took to locate the master controls, and Rachel pulled on the emergency brake lever, hoping t
hat would stop the entire train. While the brake lever was connected to each of the engines behind it, it did not control any engines in front. Thus, while it engaged the brakes on the engine Rachel was in and each of the others in line, the lead train engine continued to press forward, putting terrible stress on the linkage joining the two engines. Just as Rachel realized what was going on, though, the opposing forces of the train and the lead engine tore apart the linkage that held them together. Rachel was thrown forward as the lead engine disconnected, rocketing forward while the rest of the train began to slow down. She looked through the window on the door in front of her, watching as the lead engine increased in speed, no longer restrained by the weight of the cars it was pulling along.

  After Rachel had leapt from the APC to the train engine, Marcus had pulled back off the track, maintaining a safe distance from the train engines and cars. He and David both heard the sound of the engine’s linkage breaking before Marcus saw it pull away, rocketing forward while the rest of the train shuddered as its brakes began to slow it on the tracks. Glancing furiously between the two separate sections, it took Marcus a moment to see Rachel’s face in the window of the second train engine. She was motioning toward the distant engine, pointing to it and screaming something that Marcus and David had no hope of hearing.

  As Marcus watched the lead train engine move further away, he suddenly realized why Rachel was making such a fuss. With a quick thumbs up to Rachel, he pressed down on the accelerator, electing a cry of surprise from David as the APC sped forward to catch up with the escaping engine.

  “What the hell are you doing?” David shouted from the back, gathering up his computer equipment that had been scattered by the sudden acceleration.

  “Something happened; I think Rachel had to disconnect the lead engine, and now it’s getting away.”

  “So what? The creatures are dead!”

  “That’s not the point, David. If that engine reaches the coast, it’ll be pretty obvious that something happened to the train along the way. I don’t think we need to be advertising our arrival like that. Do you?”

  David clamped his mouth shut, raising an eyebrow and nodding in resignation. “So what are we supposed to do about it? Run the thing off the track?”

  Marcus’s wicked grin was visible to David in the rearview mirror. His face paled slightly and he stammered as he tried to argue. “Y-you’ve got to be joking. This is insane!”

  “Got any better ideas?” The armored vehicle was now even with the back of the train engine and Marcus checked his harness one last time. “If not, then you’d better hold on.”

  “Marcus, don’t do it!” David pleaded, searching for any handhold he could find in the rear compartment. “This thing may be armored, but there’s no way it can do this!”

  “She can take it!” Marcus shouted back at David. Not waiting around to hear David’s response, Marcus pulled them to the left by six inches, bringing the left front bumper of the APC in contact with the side of the train. Though the train vastly outweighed the APC and had the advantage of traveling in a straight line at a high rate of speed, it had the particular disadvantage of being locked into the train tracks. Forward and backward forces were easily dealt with by the train, but a large force pushing from the side was a disaster waiting to happen, as a deviation of a few inches could spell disaster for the locomotive.

  The initial impact from the APC did little to the engine other than make it rock back and forth ever so slightly. Pulling back to the right, Marcus kept them a good two feet from the side of the train engine before moving back in. This time, instead of taking it slowly, he turned the wheel sharply, bracing his body and closing one eye as the armored vehicle ran up against the train.

  Unlike the last impact, which did no more than rattle the train engine, Marcus’s second attempt was an overwhelming success. The armored vehicle delivered just enough force to send the train engine rocking up onto two wheels. Mild deviations in the rails and an ever so slight slant in the ground spelled disaster for the powerful engine which slammed back down onto all four wheels before rocking to the right. Marcus’s eyes widened in panic as he saw the heavy frame of the locomotive tilting towards them. He pressed both feet on the brakes, closing his eyes as the black form of the train fell over, slamming to the ground just inches in front of their vehicle. A wave of rocks and dirt flew into the air, showering the APC in a hailstorm of earth.

  Though Marcus couldn’t see the train engine sliding forward, he could certainly hear it as it scraped along the ground, twisting and rolling. After a few seconds, the engine began to impact on rows of trees, brutally smashing them as it slowed down. With a sudden jolt, the APC finally came to a stop, though Marcus kept his feet on the brake pedal while he clung to the steering wheel with an iron grip. The sight of the train engine slowly sliding through the woods ahead of them made him keenly aware of just how close they had come to being crushed under its immense weight.

  With a gulp, Marcus slowly released his grip on the wheel and eased off the brake. He turned to look at David who was lying on the bench seat with his arms and legs braced against the side of the APC. The two men stared at each other for a moment before Marcus slowly began to turn the APC around. Though the rest of the train took several minutes to come to a full stop thanks to its incredible weight and momentum, it was still a few miles back behind them, and Marcus’s next priority was to check on Rachel to see how she had fared. Driving back to her, neither Marcus nor David spoke a word to each other, having been thoroughly shaken by the near-death experience.

  Leonard McComb | Nancy Sims

  6:42 AM, April 21, 2038

  The large black submarine was even bigger than it had first appeared to Nancy as she ran towards it with Leonard right on her tail. Two people dressed in thick coats popped out of a hatch near the port side of the submarine, carrying a large thick plank of wood that they began to slide out across the water toward the docks. The plank was only a few feet wide, but it was the only means of getting on board the submarine.

  The lack of firing was suddenly worrisome to Leonard, who turned to look at the rocky outcropping just as Nancy stepped onto the plank connecting the docks to the submarine. One of the two crewmembers who had helped set up the plank kneeled down next to it, holding on with both hands to keep it steady. The other crewmember was standing halfway across the plank, directly above the freezing water with his arm outstretched to help Nancy across.

  Leonard stopped for a few seconds and watched as Nancy began to cross the plank when a searing pain arced through his right leg, sending him crumpling to his knees. A split second later the boom of a distant rifle echoed across the water and Leonard screamed, cradling his leg with both hands as he tried to crawl toward the submarine to escape the shots he knew were coming next. The pain and fire in Leonard’s leg was spreading and he felt his heart rate skyrocket.

  From his new perch on the opposite side of the rocks, Samuel smiled as he watched Leonard’s leg shatter from the explosive bullet and he steadied his aim once again for a second shot. Samuel wasn’t sure whether or not his explosive-tipped bullets would work on flesh, but his aim had just happened to send the bullet directly into the fibula, triggering the micro-explosive which tore apart Leonard’s leg far more than the bullet could have done on its own.

  Before Samuel could squeeze the trigger a second time, though, a curious sensation filled his body. Time slowed around him and he felt as though his body was no longer his own as he fell backwards. He watched his body tumble slowly down the rocks, though he was puzzled as to the reason why he had suddenly lost all will to stay standing or continue shooting Leonard. At the bottom of the rocks, exposed to the enemies he had so desperately tried to kill, Samuel urged his body to move, but couldn’t find the strength to do so.

  From his position at the base of the Arkhangelsk’s sail, Dmitry kept his rifle trained on the limp body of the man who now lay crumpled at the base of the rocks. The intensive training that he had undergone b
y the direct orders of Commander Krylov had paid off in spades. Momentarily worried that the commander would punish him for shooting the sniper, Dmitry glanced up to where the commander was standing at the top of the sail. Krylov looked down at Dmitry and nodded to him once before returning his gaze to the body of the shooter.

  Samuel was still breathing, barely, though he had made no more aggressive movements toward Nancy and Leonard. Taking no chances, Krylov barked at his men to hurry, and they quickly escorted Nancy below deck before running over to Leonard and carrying him aboard. Even from his position high above the deck, Commander Krylov could see that the man’s wounds were grave, and he hoped that the young doctor on board would be able to stem the flow of blood before it was too late.

  Rachel Walsh | Marcus Warden | David Landry

  6:34 AM, April 21, 2038

  Rachel stepped out of the train engine haltingly, nearly falling as she lowered herself slowly to the ground. The initial jump from the APC to the front of the engine had only been a few feet, but she had injured herself far more than she originally realized. Her old chest pains were back and worse than before, her face and arms were bruised and her whole body was covered in soot and lacerations. The adrenaline that had kept her from feeling the full extent of her injuries was beginning to wear off and she sat clumsily on the ground, waiting for Marcus and David to drive back to her. Every breath was a struggle and Rachel found herself growing dizzy. She willed herself to stay awake, trying to focus on the train tracks that stretched out in front of her to keep her mind occupied.