Music City Macabre: The Low Lying Lands Saga: Vol. 1
Page 18
Before The Descent, I imagined that people could stand on this corner and watch what was most likely a million beautiful sunsets over the Nashville skyline. The four of us stood in silence and looked at nothing. Nothing but smoke and devastation.
“What have we done?” asked Cole.
“We didn’t do this, Michael.” Shields wiped away the tears that had escaped down the side of her face. “This was Chaos.”
“Cole, remember what you feel like right now,” I said. “This most likely isn’t the last time you’ll see it. We have work to do and it’s not going to be easy. In fact, it’s going get worse before it ever gets better. But this is what we signed up for. We’re gonna stomp a mudhole in these fuckers.”
“We need to go back and help them,” said Cole.
Before I could answer, Shields interjected, “No, Michael. Obviously we didn’t know an earthquake was going to be result of our battle, but Prescott is right. The people of Nashville, have to rebuild themselves. They have to remember what it’s like to be a community and work together. They will do it. Have faith.”
“What she said,” I said.
“Okay.”
I turned and walked back towards the Jeep. We all filed into the Comanche and I fired it up. My Jeep must be a Point of Light as well. It feels indestructible. We continued down Eighth Avenue and turned left onto Wedgewood. Signs for Interstate 65 glared in the early morning sunlight and we veered right, onto the ramp. It’s unclear where we’re heading. The fight was only just beginning. But my friends and I are ready. And we’re in it for the long haul.
I turned the radio on and pressed the preset button for Doctor Midnite. He might tell us where to go next. He seems to be in the know. All I got was static, fuzzy static, like when I had first driven into Nashville. It was fading in and out. A female’s voice cut in and out, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying. My head started to pound. No, worse. Like a screw was tightening in my skull. Dammit!
“What are you listening to Pres..”
“Shut Up!” I screamed.
The voice was beginning to break through the static. Clearer. Oh, my God, my fucking head!
Suddenly, coming out of the radio as if a more clear voice never existed, I heard:
“Go to work, brother. You are protected.”
I slammed on the brakes in the middle of the interstate in post-apocalyptic—and utterly destroyed—Nashville, Tennessee.
“Emily?”
THE END
AFTERWORD
Writing this book has been about as frightening a task as I’ve ever been asked to do. I have to thank Nick Cole, Michael Bunker, and the folks at Wonderment Media for having the faith in me to do it when I wasn’t sure I could. I had self-published only three short stories prior to this effort.
There are a few more people that I need mention. One dear friend—Jay Rives. He is not only a character in my book but a wonderful human being and one the closest friends I have, or ever will have. Jay actually lives in Normal, Illinois, and it was his suggestion to have the Normal Safe Zone be the Mitsubishi plant that currently operates there.
I must also give immense credit to Bob Crosley. Bob has been with Prescott almost as long as I have. Bob gives brilliant advice, he’s a great listener, gives honest feedback, and sincere praise. I’m not sure that what you have just finished reading would be in your hands without Bob’s invaluable time and guidance. If I were Luke Skywalker (and believe me, I’m not, but if I was), Bob Crosley would be Obi-Wan Kenobi.
Let me also thank my “Jedi Council” of beta readers: David Walters, Bill Carr, Ron Deal, Heidi Friedrichs, Catherine Violando, and Jay Rives. Not just this particular book. These brave souls read everything I write. They are special.
I have to give a little above and beyond recognition for Heidi Friedrichs. Heidi volunteers her time to read literally everything I write, repeatedly. She gives editing advice and sound suggestions and feedback. Heidi has probably read this book twenty times. I can’t thank her enough.
Finally, and most importantly I must thank my wife Sara. Sara supported this effort from the very beginning and was graciously willing to pick up my slack when I was in down the rabbit hole writing. The Princess Bride reference was all her! I love you so much Babe.
I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Bob Williams lives in Nashville, Tennessee with his wife Sara and daughter Kate. When Bob isn’t writing he works for Habitat for Humanity of Greater Nashville. Bob has two previous short story titles “Smoke” and “Magenta,” both currently available in the Amazon Kindle Store. Bob hopes you enjoy reading his words as much as he loves writing them.
Website: www.bwilliams@thirdscribe.com
Join Newsletter: http://bwilliams.thirdscribe.com/newsletter
TABLE OF CONTENTS
A HISTORY LESSON
NOW
BEFORE
NOW
BEFORE
NOW
AFTERMATH
NEW BEGINNINGS
SAFE ZONE: NORMAL, IL
DOCTOR MIDNITE
A NEW DIRECTION
WHILST BULLETS FLEW AT THE 88
TRAVELLING
WELCOME TO NASHVILLE
KADE DELIVERS HIS MESSAGE
THE BLACK HAND SERVES
MASSACRE AT THE MSZ
NO MORE RUNNING
THE C-TEAM
THE NETWORK
Malcolm
KADE LEARNS THE SCORE
PRELUDE TO SHOWDOWN
NIGHTMARES AND DREAMSCAPES
THE END BEGINS
SHOWTIME
GOOD VERSUS EVIL
THE NEW PROTECTORATE
THE END
AFTERWORD
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Table of Contents
MusicCityMacabre