The Dead Years - ORIGINS - Book Zero (A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller)

by Olah, Jeff

  Even before she reached the window, April could see both parking lots start to fill with cars. Knowing there were no performances going on at the middle school today, she knew what was happening.

  These parents were just as alarmed at the events of the day as she was; they were just less concerned with what the other parents thought of them.

  “Screw it.” Deciding she didn’t care either, she dialed Mason again to let him know she was headed to the school to bring Justin home. She figured he could help her pack a few things and as soon as Mason arrived she would try to convince him that her father had some insight and they should heed his warning and head out of town.

  Mason’s phone went to voicemail once again. April typically would have just hung up, although she wanted him to know where she was if he got here before she got back.

  “Mason, it’s me, there is some weird stuff going on over at the school. I’m going over to bring Justin home. If you get here before I get back, the front door will be unlocked…Please hurry.”

  Before heading out, April grabbed the television remote and powered it up. She promised herself earlier that she would not watch any more coverage; however, she wanted to be sure there wasn’t any new information.

  Most of the network stations were now off the air. April flipped through the last of the local stations and came upon a disturbing feed that was playing on a loop showing a crowd of deranged people stampeding two middle aged women trying to get into the grocery store. She had to turn away and instantly hit the off button before she witnessed another second.

  “What in the world is happening?”

  Continue with the story here…

  SNEAK PEEK of RATH

  Omnibus Edition

  How long would it take for the entire planet to starve to death?

  This was the question asked that set in motion the chaos that would lead to the death of over six billion people in just a few short years.

  It was only a matter of time…

  1

  Radiant flakes of snow drifted along the landscape and exaggerated the already lifeless skyline between the two distant mountain ranges. Wind pulsed through the open valley and slammed into the treeline at the base of the looming forest, distributing the frozen slivers that signaled the approaching season. Normally more than three months away, again this year it had come early.

  His head pounded and his shoulder felt as if it was being pulled from his torso. The pain radiating from his left thigh and deep into his hip ran a close second to the vomit-inducing cramps he presently battled. Flat on his back, he stared at the frozen precipitation drifting in from the east. Squinting through the pain, he rolled gently to his right side, using what little momentum he created to push up onto his hands and knees. Dry heaving as he clutched the tracks, the pain that ran along his left side began to dissipate into a dulled numbness, as if half his body had fallen asleep.

  Dragging his feet along the ice covered wooden planks, he attempted to stand, and without warning was sent face-first down the short embankment as his weakened limbs buckled under the added weight. Sliding to a stop, he came to rest alongside a sprawling field of debris, dominated by a recently downed object that held roughly the same proportions as a small vehicle from decades earlier.

  The punishing cold began to bite at the exposed areas on his face and neck as he pulled himself onto the dreadful slab of downed scrap metal. Twisting side to side in an attempt to breach the stiffness running the length of his neck, he scanned the area, finally pausing on the massive object that rested less than two feet away. Motionless and dumping fuel onto the grim terrain, he began to recall what this was. He just had no idea why it was here and where it had come from.

  He felt empty, almost hollow. His mind battled his subconscious for dominance as it slowly revealed bits of the present day, exposing the hell he’d been trapped in for the last thirty-two years. As he attempted to stretch away the building lactic acid that harassed every muscle in his body, the damage was beyond evident.

  He removed his right glove and ran his bare palm, first along the inside of his coat and next down both legs, before checking his face and neck. Without any indication of serious injury and very little of his own blood spilled, he collected the contents gathering in the back of his throat and spat what remained onto the black metallic surface, watching as the steam rolled into the air.

  Finally standing and with each step carefully calculated, he walked the perimeter of the metallic beast lying broken at his feet. No distinguishing marks or significance as to its rightful place, he struggled to remember anything from the last thirty minutes of his life. Details were unclear, although he knew three things for certain.

  The embattled drone he now leaned against hadn’t come here alone.

  Not quite fifty yards away, something awaited him at the edge of the forest.

  Her name was Sarah… and she was gone.

  . . .

  The backpack sitting twenty feet away was also vaguely familiar to him. A quick internal debate ended with him making the decision to retrieve it. Each step carried with it a reminder of his previous beating as he stepped carefully around and through the lightly dusted metal debris field. Snow began to drop at an increased rate and was fueled by the driving wind as he stood over the bag and looked skyward. Bending at the waist appeared be the lesser of two evils at the moment and dropping to a knee to retrieve the backpack would have been all but impossible.

  With one hand on his lower back, he leaned forward, clenched his teeth, and exhaled through the searing pain along his left side. In one motion, he quickly snatched the pack and with his right hand, slung it over his shoulder. As his vision began to transition into grey halos and the fear of nausea rapidly returning, he righted himself and started back toward the tracks. With each new stride, the pain relented, if only to allow him to attempt another step forward. Within three feet, he extended his arms and let momentum carry him to the edge of the fallen drone.

  Tossing the bag onto a flat surface at waist level, he unzipped the worn backpack, and removed the protruding three foot section of metal. Wrapped tightly in leather on one end, indicating a handle of sorts, the remaining section revealed this to be his first line of defense. Rusted from end to end and streaked with deep gouges, the heavy section of pipe told tales of the previous battles he had yet to recall.

  Raising the weapon to shoulder level, something about it felt natural. Tightening his grip and slicing through the late afternoon snowfall, his movements were instinctual, almost fluid. He slammed the weapon down into the arrow shaped behemoth and enjoyed the way it made him feel, even if the pain only afforded him less than a half dozen strikes. As the snowfall parted and his vision crystalized, he was able to make out the details of the object that bore his still inexplicable rage.

  From the size and shape, he assumed it was aerial based. With its matte black finish and lack of angular features, he believed this was something that was never supposed to be seen or heard. He imagined it traveling less than a thousand feet off the ground, undetected as it ventured out in search of whatever it was that brought it here. Moving to the opposite end, he used his gloved hand to wipe free the drifting snow that began stacking itself with increasing intensity along everything it touched.

  Near what he considered to be the nose section, he noticed a small and somewhat irregular shaped depression that ended somewhere inside the devious flying machine. He retrieved the only familiar item he’d seen since waking into this hell and found that the weapon fit easily into the slot, obviously made for another tool of similar size. His first attempt at prying open the rectangular shaped door forced him to his knees as a lightning rod of excruciating pain shot from the point of resistance into his rotator cuff.

  Righting himself and looking into the distance, he sensed the intruder along the edge of the forest had covered half the distance between the two, and in less than thirty seconds he’d have to face the unknown. He wasn’t ready. He figured if whatever w
as out there was somehow related to this machine, they’d probably be less than ecstatic about his attempt at dismantling it. He didn’t care, although he had no idea why.

  To his feet once again, he maneuvered under the metal pipe and gripped the handle. He placed it atop the opposite shoulder and squatted to the snow packed ground. He took a deep breath and after a long moment of hesitation, he used every ounce of coiled energy to explode upward, shattering the lightweight composite door into hundreds of pieces.

  Movement at the treeline again. He turned in the direction of the disturbance and crept slowly into the clearing as the weather again heightened its fury. Shifting the thirty-six-inch lead pipe into his right hand, he shielded his eyes from the blinding whiteout. Not quite close enough, he took another few steps forward, clearing his throat as it began to constrict with fear, the unknown eating away at his every thought.

  Another twenty seconds and he stood ten feet from the darkened treeline. Whatever had come for him must have either moved back into the dense forest or out of the area altogether. He hoped for the latter. Stepping forward once again, he heard the girl’s voice. Faint, although clear in her request.

  “Please don’t hurt me, please—”

  The words echoed through him and dislodged whatever was holding back the memories. Washing over him like an out of control wave at high tide, he remembered. He remembered who he was, where he was, and why he stood ten feet from the girl now begging for mercy. He knew what the object at the edge of the tracks was and how it had come to its final resting place.

  He also remembered the love of his life being ripped from this valley minutes before.

  2

  They shouldn’t have been this far east with the approaching cold right against our backs… they’re getting sloppy, if not a little desperate. Why?

  The events of the past thirty minutes raced through his head as he put pressure against his temples in an effort to relieve the incessant pounding. Now completely engulfed under the low hanging canopy of the surrounding oak, he leaned into the nearest tree, giving his vision the opportunity to clear. As the images began to materialize in waves of fear and panic, he dropped to his knees and began to recall every horrific detail.

  . . .

  As the snow began to fall, she turned to him, arching her brow and looking into the distance. “How much farther?”

  “It’ll be fine; we’ve got at least a few hours before we need to worry.”

  “How far?”

  “Sarah, trust me. We’re only a mile or so outside of District Two, and there’s nothing to worry about.” He knew better than to lie to her and if his placement was correct, they’d be able to sleep in an actual bed for the first time in twelve days. He’d lived just outside this area shortly after the turn and hoped above all else that someone would remember him or his family from before the incident. Either way, it was strictly against District policy to exclude any non-threats. He and Sarah could use fictitious names to petition for residency and even if turned away, they’d at least have a few nights to rest.

  “I’m trusting you, and you’d better remember what happens if I catch you stretching the truth, young man.” Sarah moved in behind and getting a grip on his shoulders, leapt onto his back. “You get to carry me the rest of the way.”

  He smiled and in craning his neck backward, kissed her hard. “I don’t know if I’m more afraid of that or running into another group of—”

  The sound was distant, maybe a mile or two off, although completely unmistakable. Sarah released her grip and slid to the ground, both feet planted on the slight decline as she met his gaze. Awaiting his reaction, she covered her mouth and followed his eyes to the treeline in the distance. With less than a hundred yards to the base of the forest, Sarah ran. She didn’t wait for him to tell her, she just ran.

  The smaller drone appeared first above the trees, then dropped into the valley at a rate much too fast, and narrowly avoided the first bridge. It appeared to be fighting itself to accelerate and rise at the same time. Three seconds later, it collided with the second bridge, coming to rest in a smoldering heap twenty feet from where his wife now stood, frozen in place.

  Already in a full sprint, his stomach dropped at the sight of the next drone coming over the trees. Matching the exact shape and design of the downed craft—although much larger and with a holding bay built to accommodate large numbers of passengers—it shook the earth as it descended. The light dusting of snow filtered away as it came to rest and the first of ten soldiers exited the rear compartment. They marched through the vortex and straight toward his wife as she called out to him. Her words were obliterated as they left her lips, crushed by the thunderous jets overpowering the valley.

  Dropping his pack, he withdrew the lead pipe and moved in quick, taking the first man to his knees with one massive blow to the torso. Number two was even less trouble, as a single strike ripped the man’s helmet from his head, sending him backward and into number three and four. The three men stumbled backward and landed with such force that it alerted the others of his presence.

  As he turned to face the others, the injured helped one another to their feet and started back to the drone, as only three stood between him and Sarah. Two of the men, dressed head to toe in black, had Sarah by the arms. The first, well over six and a half feet tall and weighing close to three hundred pounds, tossed her onto his back without much trouble. She kicked furiously and with a closed fist, pounded into his lower back, although he barely noticed as he stomped back to the open cargo door.

  The remaining men formed a semi-circle, each pulling their weapon. They looked at one another as if to confirm their well-devised plan before moving in unison toward him. His next attacker lunged forward with his stun baton, although he was shocked at having his weapon knocked out of his hand as it came to rest ten feet behind. As he moved to retrieve it, the last two men came for him.

  Angling the attack, they moved as a unit and struck at the same time. Swinging quickly, he was able to deflect their first strike. Twisting to address the last threat, he was caught with a direct strike from the assailant’s stun baton. A blinding shockwave arced from the entry point just below his left shoulder, forcing him to release his own weapon. As he fell to the tracks and shielded his face, another strike from the baton shoved into his hip, ending the struggle. The paralyzing current took over control as his mind began to fade, as did his will to fight.

  Lying flat on his back as the men strode away, he watched a second woman, younger than his wife by ten years, being dragged out of the trees. Her head slumped forward and her shoeless feet left tracks through the new snow. She’d obviously been on the losing end of the second team’s batons and had also lost her resolve. Attempting to raise his head from the frozen earth, he only got far enough to watch his wife being pulled into the transport drone. As the doors closed and consciousness began to fade, he watched her mouth her final words. She called out to him.

  “Benjamin Rath, I love you.”

  . . .

  She was gone… and he was going to get her.

  Continue with the story here…

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