Blackout Series (Books 1-2)

by Adam Drake

  “How the hell did you pay for them?”

  “Cash.”

  Nate laughed. “Of course, the good old-fashioned way.”

  Encouraged by Nate's demeanor the brunette said, “Yeah, the cashier had to add it up on a piece of paper and everything. Wasn't too hard.”

  “My friend and I are a little hungry. Got anything in there worth sharing?” Nate added just a hint of menace to his words.

  The women stood paralyzed for a few moments, then the blonde said, “Sure. We got chips and coke.”

  “I'm starving,” Martin said, but his eyes were not on the food.

  The women looked at him fearfully.

  “Care to share?” Nate said.

  “Sure,” the blonde said. Hastily, the women empty the bag and handed over the food.

  Martin cracked open a can and guzzled the contents down in several long swallows. Then he tossed the can onto the street where it clattered and rolled away.

  “My friend here has worked up quite the thirst,” Nate said.

  Martin burped loudly then ripped open a chip bag. He began devouring them in large handfuls.

  Nate did the same, but with a more civil approach, sipping from his can and eating chips one at a time.

  The women watched them, wide eyed and apprehensive. Eventually, the blonde worked up the courage to speak. “Well, we got to be going now. Our friends are waiting. Glad we could help you out.”

  As they started to move away, Nate casually lifted up his AK. The girls stopped. “No need to go just yet,” he said around a mouthful chips. “Where are you two going, anyway?”

  “Home,” the blonde said.

  “How far?”

  The answer took several moments in coming. “About four blocks from here.”

  “You live with your friends?”

  “Yeah, we share a house together.”

  “How many?”

  Another long pause before the answer. “Five of us. Why?”

  “Just wanted to know who I'll be meeting, is all.” He motioned with is AK for them to start walking. “Why don't you take us to your friends. We'll make sure we don't eat all their chips.”

  Now petrified, the women could do nothing other than what they were told. They continued on down the sidewalk, this time with Nate behind them, munching chips. Martin followed along on the street, pushing the wheel-barrel.

  They passed houses where people huddle outside around makeshift fires or inside with candles. Anyone who saw them zeroed in on Nate and Martin and then vanished from view.

  If the women were hoping someone might intervene on their behalf, they were wrong.

  Eventually they arrived at a cute two-story house. In the small front yard three people were sitting around a large mound of glow-sticks talking and laughing.

  Nate looked them over. Two red-headed babes and gawky looking guy.

  As they got closer, the people looked in their direction. Their faces fell into looks of concern once they noticed Nate's AK.

  Nate's group walked up onto the yard. “Howdy,” he said cheerfully.

  The others stood up, the two red-heads clutching at each other. The blonde and brunette ran over to them.

  “These guys took our food!” the brunette said. “I think they want to rob us.”

  “No, there will be no robbing,” Nate said with a smile. “You're too pretty for that.”

  The gawky guy walked up to Nate despite his weapon. “You guys need to leave. You're not welcome here.”

  Nate couldn't tell if this guy was brave or stupid. He settled on stupid. “Now that's not very friendly of you, is it? My friend and I need a place to hang out for a while. We thought we'd crash at your place. Your house is big enough.”

  The guy put up a blustering front, probably to impress the girls. “I said you're not welcome here. Leave.”

  “No,” Nate said.

  Shaking with agitation the guy said, “Who the hell do you think you are, fucker?”

  “Who do I think I am?” Nate asked.

  He shot the guy with a single burst from the AK, nearly cutting him in half. The women screamed in terror.

  “Why, I'm your new king,” Nate said with a smile.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Wyatt

  “Are we there, yet?” Wyatt said.

  They had been walking for what seemed like hours, but Wyatt couldn't be sure. Time had lost all meaning once the entrance to the tunnel vanished from view.

  “Almost,” Ethan said. He held the lantern high, its bright light creating glittery stars across the river next to them.

  “You haven't said anything in ages,” Wyatt said, casting his dead friend a suspicious look. “What are you up to?”

  “Nothing,” Ethan said. “If anything, you are the one that is up to something. I'm just helping you along.”

  “Okay, whatever,” Wyatt said. The syrupy feeling that had enveloped him early was gone. Now his mind was free to dance around all sorts of crazy thoughts. “You were always evasive, you know that?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I'm saying. You never shared with me your past or anything you were thinking beyond the next dumpster. Even after all these years.”

  Ethan scoffed. “I need secrets, too, you know. You can't corner the market on that. Other people have things they don't want to talk about, either.”

  “You're avoiding the question.”

  “No, I'm not. I'm choosing not to answer it, that's all.”

  They walked on in silence for a while. The tunnel did not vary in direction one inch, just a straight line. Nor did it dip downward, for which Wyatt was actually grateful for. He was hoping to get out of this place soon enough.

  “My arms hurt,” Wyatt said for the twentieth time.

  “And you know I can't do anything to help with that,” Ethan said. “We'll get those restraints off when we find some help.”

  “Is that what we're doing? Finding help? I thought we were looking for answers to questions, or some such nonsense.”

  Ethan didn't respond, only kept moving forward. Wyatt had little choice but to follow along.

  After a while, Ethan said, “I was an accountant.”

  Wyatt was poleaxed by this revelation. “No way! A numbers guy?”

  Ethan nodded.

  Wyatt shook his head in amazement. “That's amazing. You never struck me as the office type.”

  Ethan scoffed. “An office is its own kind of dumpster, believe you me. But if I had a choice between running reports all night in time for the month end cash flow or rolling around in garbage, I'd take the garbage option every time.”

  Wyatt walked along in stunned silence. Then he said, “How much did you make?”

  “Salary? More than cans and bottles.”

  “No, seriously.”

  Ethan was quiet a moment, then said, “Six figures a year. Not including bonuses.”

  Wyatt laughed, looking at his friend in unabashed amazement. “I don't believe it. Six God-damned figures a year. And now you're... you're... uh.”

  “Dead?” Ethan finished for him.

  “Yeah, dead. Sorry about that.”

  “You have absolutely nothing to apologize for. What happened, happened. There's no going back now.”

  Wyatt shook his head. “Yeah, but if I had handled those Feral Kids differently, maybe things would have turned out another way.”

  Ethan shook his head. “No, it wouldn't have.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Ethan stopped, catching Wyatt off guard for a second and nearly causing him to fall into the river.

  “Whoa, hey!” Wyatt said. The river raged by, the lantern light creating silver serpents across its surface.

  “Things were not meant to turn out differently,” Ethan said, his eyes never leaving Wyatt's. “They happened the way they were intended to.”

  “I don't get it,” Wyatt said. He could feel the drying blood across the small of his back, thick and sticky.

&
nbsp; Ethan sighed, closing his eyes.

  Wyatt waited, not sure what his friend was up to.

  Ethan opened his eyes and looked at Wyatt. “If I hadn't had died then I wouldn't have been in any position to guide you. We would still be out there jumping into dumpsters and counting pennies.”

  “There's nothing wrong with that. Dumpster diving, I mean.”

  “No, but you were meant for more than that and you know it.”

  Wyatt mulled that over. “About that. What's with me dipping in and out of... I don't know how you would describe it...”

  “Crazy?”

  “Yeah, crazy. Why is that happening? It never happened before.”

  “That you remember.”

  This just confused Wyatt more. “Now I'm all turned around. You mean I've slipped into crazy town before? Before today?”

  Ethan watched his friend, his eyes appearing like black pits. “Yes, Wyatt. You have. Many times. Now, can we continue on? We're almost there.”

  He continued walking, but it was the last sentence that snagged Wyatt's attention. “We're almost out of here? Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do you know? How do you know any of this?”

  “You want to know the secret as to how I know we're almost out of here?”

  “Yeah, tell me.”

  Ethan pointed. “Because there's the exit up ahead.”

  Wyatt looked. Sure enough, the tunnel ended a short distance away. Somewhere beyond it an orange glow highlighted the exit's shape.

  “Oh, thank God!” Wyatt said and picked up the pace. Ethan trailed along.

  Soon, Wyatt was running and was well past the lantern's light radius.

  “Be careful, Wyatt. Don't fall into the river again. You definitely wouldn't survive it a second time.”

  Wyatt ignored him and rushed ahead, his panting breath loud in his ears, canceling out the roaring of the river.

  Soon he stood at the tunnel terminus. The river dropped here and rushed down into the darkness of the world outside. To one side, there was a wide concrete plateau which revealed a dry spillway. Beyond that, he could see tall buildings, dark against the starry sky.

  A large campfire was in the middle of the spillway. A figure sat next to it.

  “We're out!” Wyatt said and turned to Ethan.

  Only Ethan wasn't there. Nor was his lantern light. Just pitch darkness and the sound of the river within.

  “Ethan?” he said looking around. “Where the hell did you go now?”

  Ethan did not reappear.

  Frustrated, Wyatt navigated his way down to the spillway toward the campfire. As he got closer, the figure became more familiar.

  At the edge of the fire's light Wyatt stopped in amazement. “Baldy?”

  The figure turned and looked at him in surprise.

  “W-Wyatt?” Baldy exclaimed. He got up and ran over to Wyatt. “Are you o-okay? You look like complete sh-sh-sh-.”

  “Shit, yes, Baldy, I do, and I feel it.”

  Baldy guided Wyatt over to the fire, a huge grin on his face. “B-boy it's real g-good to see you. I've b-been worried.”

  Wyatt plopped down next to the fire, getting as close to its warmth as he dared. “Worried? Why? Last time I saw you we were making our rounds.” That seemed like a lifetime ago, instead of a single day.

  Baldy looked at Wyatt like he was nuts. He raised his arms and said, “The world has g-gone crazy, Wyatt. E-everyone's freaking out ab-about the power. I thought something might have h-happened to you and Ethan.”

  Wyatt frowned. “Oh, that. Nothing to worry about.” He didn't want to talk about Ethan right that very moment. “Hey, you got a knife or some scissors?”

  Baldy blinked in confusion then pulled out a huge butcher knife from a side pocket. “L-like this?”

  Ethan's worries about Baldy being a mass murderer played through Wyatt's mind. “Uh, yeah. Mind cutting these damned restraints off my arms for me?”

  Baldy lit up like a child on christmas morning. “S-sure, lemme get 'em for you.”

  As Baldy sawed at the restraints, Wyatt tried not to let himself get too worried. He doubted Baldy was a mass murderer. Or, at least for the next few moments he wasn't.

  There was an audible snip from behind Wyatt and suddenly his hands were free. “Oh, thank God!” Wyatt said as he rubbed at his arms. They were cold and numb.

  Baldy moved to the fire, smiling like a fool. “Want some c-coffee. Just made it.”

  “Hell, yeah!” Wyatt said as he examined the wounds on his wrists. The restraints had really cut into him, but not deep enough to slice his wrists. Still, he'd need to have these looked at.

  Baldy handed him a tin cup full of piping hot coffee. Wyatt sipped at it eagerly.

  “Baldy, this is the best coffee I've ever had. Thank you.”

  “R-really?”

  “Yup,” Wyatt said drinking. Soon his gaze sank into the fire.

  After a time, Baldy started to get worried. “Are you okay, W-Wyatt? Your f-face looks kinda f-funny.”

  That syrupy feeling had arrived again and washed over Wyatt like a slow tsunami. “Yeah, I'm fine. Just fine.”

  After a few moments, Baldy asked. “Whatcha th-thinking about?”

  “Oh, my new job. I figured it out now. What it is.”

  “Yeah? Wh-what's your job?”

  When Wyatt looked to Baldy, Baldy couldn't be certain the face he saw was Wyatt's at all.

  “My job?” Wyatt said, his voice hollow and distant. “My new job is to save the world.”

  END OF BOOK TWO

  Shadow Gambit

  An impossible quest for a legendary item.

  I love questing for loot.

  And the more difficult the quest, the greater the reward.

  So when I'm offered a chance to retrieve the ultimate treasure of all, I signed up.

  Yet no one warned me the task would be impossible. Against overwhelming odds I'm also expected to defeat an ancient evil - one with the power of a god.

  But you know what?

  Some loot is worth risking it all.

  CHAPTER ONE

  I clung to the cliff face for dear life as the angry dragon flew overhead.

  Pressing my body hard against the rocky surface I did my best to keep from being noticed by the giant flying lizard. Rock climbing may have been a specialty for my Shadow class, but it didn't hurt to be cautious. One slip and I would plummet hundreds of feet into the molten lake below. An ignominious end to a rather stellar questing career.

  Thankfully, the dragon did not look in my direction. Instead, it banked away, flapping its great leathery wings to disappear into the dark haze and smoke which spewed from the volcano. I breathed a sigh of relief and adjusted my hand and footholds. The giant lizard would be back that was for certain. Within my backpack was its egg I had just swiped from its nest, and the creature would do everything to get it back.

  Craning my neck I looked upwards. The cliff ledge was still a fair distance away. Reaching it would be the only salvation I could hope for. Either that or be melted off the cliff wall.

  Unconsciously, I wiped at a trickle of sweat on my temple being careful of my grip. The simulation suit I wore did a good job of making me feel like I was really perched above real lava. Too good. With a few sub-vocal commands I instructed the suit to tone down the climate controls, and instantly I felt cooler. My avatar would not benefit within this virtual reality. She would sweat like a pig, regardless. But for me as the player could be allowed some comfort. A message appeared at the corner of my vision, asking if the temperature was adequate. I dismissed it and looked around for the dragon.

  Nothing but smoke and ash filled the sky. Delay would only bring failure and this quest I was on had been earmarked as 'Special'. If I failed my character would be heavily penalized. I resumed my ascent although it was slow going. Having climbed down this same cliff to get to the dragon's nest a short time ago, my avatar was feeling the strain. But I could not stop now and
regenerate. Time for that after I reached the top.