Darkest Storm: Book 3 of the Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Survival Series: (The Long Fall - Book 3)

by Logan Keys

  Michelle smiled at Carry and followed her to the sink. “How are you?” Michelle asked her. “I mean with all of us in your house?”

  Carry smiled. “I prefer it. I won’t have to worry about the neighbors this way. We’re a tight knit group. How’s Mr. Chung?”

  “I didn’t wake him.” Michelle felt bad. “I’m a terrible neighbor. The only time I see Mr. Chung is when I give him my rent check and even then, I never say more than have a nice day.”

  Carry laughed. “Well, you saved his life, didn’t you? I think you’re even.”

  Michelle glanced away. She saved him from the men that had come for her. But she wasn’t sure what Bob had told Carry, so she kept that part to herself. Carry reached for the faucet and pulled the lever. The pipes shuddered and nothing happened.

  Carry stared at the faucet expectantly as did Michelle but not so much as a drop came out.

  “Is it the pipes?” Bob came over. “They frozen again? Let me try the bathroom.” Bob left and returned with a blank expression. “Looks like the water’s off.”

  Michelle tried not to think about that. She didn’t want to picture all of these people trying to use the toilet without water.

  Dawson said, “We can bring snow in a bucket and let it melt slowly for the toilet.

  “Good idea,” Bob replied distractedly, but a crease began to form between his eyes.

  He smiled at Michelle and it removed itself momentarily, but it returned when he thought no one was watching. They had no running water, no power, and they were in a city of millions and millions of people all around them who would run out of supplies and fast, and then come looking for theirs.

  **

  When everyone was up, the house warmed some from all of the bodies moving around, but a lot of moaning and groaning from the children reminded them all that life was not normal. Michelle spent time checking on the most elderly first, as Mr. Chung, Mrs. Anderson, and Mrs. Haverstick refrained from getting out of bed. Michelle had to weave around a gaggle of children that had overtaken the living room. Noses ran and fevers began as a few of them got sick from the sudden change in temperature and exposure to the cold wearing down the immune system. The flu ran rampant in this weather. By the end of the day, Carry, too, came in and took some Tylenol and thought no one had seen.

  Michelle waited until they were alone and touched Carry’s forehead. She made a noise and pulled her hand back from the clammy, hot skin.

  “You’re burning up,” she said. “Why don’t you go rest. I can handle dinner.”

  Carry tried to argue, but she was using a wall to stay standing as it was. Her eyes were glazed over in pain and she shivered. “Don’t tell Bob.”

  Michelle nodded and took her to her room, tucking Carry into bed, promising she could handle whatever needed handling. When Michelle got back to the kitchen, she tried to save Bob the panic by telling him Carry was just resting, but she knew better than that. Bob wasn’t so easily lied to and the wrinkle between his brows only deepened.

  Michelle got busy. Instead of thinking about all of the bad things swarming around her like mosquitoes on a summer night, she pulled out all of the Italian wedding soup cans she’d brought from her apartment. She had at least twelve of them and some bread that was piled on the counter. Bread would go bad the fastest—best to eat it first.

  **

  The meal had been a hit, and everyone was satisfied despite the fact that the soup ran out too swiftly. People got to know each other better with good conversation and extra space heaters. The Garcia’s even spoke Spanglish to communicate some of their own story, and everyone would laugh as they tried some of their own high school Spanish in reply. The adults played board games and the children didn’t have too many fights over the limited number of toys.

  All in all, it was a good moment in a string of bad ones, and Michelle enjoyed it while it lasted. She found that when bedtime came though, she was exhausted but glad to have been able to help Carry. That woman had been running herself ragged since everyone had arrived.

  Bob had silently hovered nearby most of the evening. He had gone back to see Carry, and he now knew she was sick, but Michelle tried to reassure him alone in the hallway. “She’ll be fine. No need to panic. It’s just a cold.”

  “Yes,” he’d answered distractedly. “Thank you for your help.”

  She put a hand on his tense shoulder. “Thank you for opening your home to us.”

  **

  But it wasn’t just a cold. Or if it was, it struck hard and fast. The quiet of the middle of the night was shattered by a baby crying; one of the Garcia’s little girls had a fever of 102, and her bright red face broke Michelle’s heart. Mrs. Haverstick was coughing up a storm, too, until they had to move her away from everyone else to try and avoid getting them sick. Bob also had come from the bedroom, grim and concerned. “Carry’s worse,” he’d said. “She’s sweating, and the fever broke at about ten, but now it’s back up again.”

  “What do you want to do?” Michelle had asked.

  “Hope it passes.” But she could tell he was itching to do something. That was how Bob handled things, and she hated seeing him helpless.

  Michelle spent the rest of the night helping with baby Garcia, rocking her and keeping her quiet so her mother and father could get a couple hours of sleep. At about three in the morning, Michelle got the little one down and snuggled up with her mother, and then after dosing Mrs. Haverstick with what was left of their cough syrup, she went back to check on Carry.

  Carry was up, sitting on the bed, while Bob went to get her some water.

  Michelle knocked softly and Carry waved her inside. “How are you feeling?”

  Carry smiled weakly. “Like a Mac truck ran me down.”

  “Well I hope they have insurance.” Michelle felt her head and frowned at how hot Carry felt.

  Michelle grabbed the thermometer and stuck it under Carry’s tongue. They waited until it beeped and Michelle shook her head. “It’s one-oh-three. We really would be taking you in if it wasn’t a madhouse at the hospital. Should we risk it?”

  Carry chuckled and shook her head. “Lived through a lot worse. Don’t worry yourself. I should be taking care of you, girl.”

  “Well, I’m not the one who went and got sick, am I?” Michelle sat on the edge of the bed. “Anything else you need?”

  Carry shook her head and then coughed a ragged sound until she was struggling for breath. It passed and she said, “I know you’ve been up with the baby. Go get some sleep, Michelle.”

  Truth was, Michelle was exhausted, but she was almost afraid to go to sleep. What would the morning be like?

  Bob met her in the hallway again and Michelle asked, “When do you think the power will be on again?”

  He met her eyes and shook his head. “They originally said it would be soon, but it’s gone quiet even on the radio.”

  And that meant everything bad in the whole world. It might never be on again. It meant that they were on a downward spiral. A slippery slope. But Michelle dragged herself to her sleeping bag and laid down. She didn’t wake up again until almost afternoon. It was the last time she’d get sleep like that.

  Chapter Nine

  New York City, New York

  Crazy Pete’s Bowling Alley

  Cameron had managed to knock out the men that were no doubt there to kill him, but he had one question: Now what?

  If he gave them their video evidence of him being alive, he was sure he would wind up the opposite soon after, but he hadn’t thought past the initial plan of making them unconscious. He could leave, but where? The city was without power. He would freeze anywhere else, plus he’d just built himself the perfect place to stave off the cold. He had the bowling alley stocked with enough food to live off for months. Now…this. Cameron scratched his head. “Think. Think.”

  Cameron fetched his duct tape, figuring the best thing he could do for now was tie them up and question them. Maybe they would help him figure out what to do. What
would work to keep them from killing him? He knew it was a long shot. He found two chairs, and it was sweaty work for his out of shape self to put Seagerman and Al into them. Then he had to tie them sufficiently enough for his scientific mind—which had calculated their predicted force and leverage with their added adrenaline-fueled strength—to be happy with.

  Once he was certain that they were secure enough two times over, he bundled up, made some more hot chocolate, and waited. It wasn’t long before Seagerman started to stir. It was interesting to see him panic before he even knew what was happening or where he was. He’d rarely seen the man have any emotion. In fact, Seagerman was a mystery. No one at the company had ever figured out where he came from.

  “Whoa, buddy. Don’t hurt yourself.” Cameron said, watching Seagerman thrash against the bonds. Cameron had a moment where he worried the ties wouldn’t work, but then again, when did he ever make a mistake? The thought darkened his mood. He’d made a lot of mistakes. Miscalculations on an invention? No. But a bad hypothesis on untested models? Yes.

  “It’s going to hurt for a bit,” Cameron said when Seagerman focused on him, blinking rapidly. “Your head, I mean.”

  Seagerman worked his jaw like a snake that had a big mouse within reach. He finally stopped, and his gaze seemed to clear as he narrowed his eyes on Cameron. “You’re a dead man.”

  Cameron couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes. I was. But as you see, I’m alive now.”

  “You’ll die very soon. Again.”

  “Well, that may be, but for now, let’s just be pleasant. I see Al there is waking up. Right on time.”

  Al was more of an idiot than Seagerman. He kept fighting with his bonds, growling like a caged animal, spittle flying out of his mouth. Finally, Cameron realized he wouldn’t get a word from them without Al shutting up, so he sighed and marched around behind the tall blond. “Cursing me with every word you know won’t release you. Or make me likely to strike a deal with you, either.”

  When Al opened his mouth, Cameron put the tie he had prepared ahead of time around his head, pulling it tightly into his mouth, gagging the man and significantly reducing the noise level.

  “Ah,” Cameron said. “That’s better. So, does Reese know you’re here?” he asked Seagerman.

  Cameron lifted their phones to show them he’d removed the sim cards in both, just in case. “No,” Seagerman answered.

  “If I let you go, you kill me. Or you run back to Reese and she kills me. Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you instead?”

  Seagerman smiled that oily fake grin he’s always used. “Because you’re not a murderer, Cameron. You don’t have it in you.”

  “I’m sure you know about Brian.”

  Seagerman scoffed. “That was different.”

  Cameron’s curiosity was piqued. He knew that Seagerman was trained in psychology amongst other things. This could be cathartic hearing what the man thought about him. “What do you mean?”

  “In the heat of passion…over a woman? Any man is capable of idiocy. I think Brian was a threat too great to what you thought you had with Reese. I don’t doubt you’d had dreams of grandeur before that moment. The shades would go up, you two would run away together and start a family. But after the incident with Brian, if you were willing to give her up and were willing to move on, then you must have felt tremendous regret. Even to the point that you lost what drove you to murder in the first place. Without Reese, you won’t kill someone in cold blood. I don’t think you have the balls.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Come on, Cam. You’re guilt-ridden and falling apart. And I’m not here to kill you despite what you may think. I told you, I’m only here to offer you a job.”

  Cameron laughed incredulously.

  Seagerman’s brown hair was still gelled neatly into place, even after being knocked out and tied up. He didn’t look rumpled. It was like he was a robot. “Yes,” he said, snapping his perfect teeth together. “Reese is ready to fix the shields. She thinks if you tweaked things, the weather situation—”

  Cameron guffawed, and then he laughed, and he laughed until water rolled out of his eyes. When he finally composed himself, he said, “Did she tell you she was the one who pushed it through as buggy as it was? We can’t tweak the shields; we can’t do anything. We have no control. There are no fail-safes. If we try to bring them down…” Cameron hadn’t realized how hopeless all of this was until now. Pointless. He lifted Seagerman’s gun in his hands, hefting its weight.

  “Would Reese even let me destroy them, even if I could?” He watched Seagerman for signs of a tell. The man gave none. “Of course not. She’d do anything to salvage her project.”

  “What if you could fix it?”

  “I can’t.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I think you just want me to let you go.”

  “Touché.”

  Cameron paced in front of the fire while Al watched him with rabid eyes that bugged with anger. Seagerman sat patiently waiting, knowing Cameron couldn’t kill them…could he? The truth was, he wasn’t really sure. He was unraveled and in survival mode. He didn’t want to die, not really.

  “Maybe I’ll do it this time. Take myself out. It would be really easy.” Cameron lifted the gun and put it to his temple. Al’s eyes grew wide, but Seagerman only smiled.

  The robot man knew he was too much of a coward, and that only made Cameron wish he could pull the trigger. Imagine them both having to watch him die before freezing to death in their ties when the fire went out.

  They all deserved it. But Reese deserved it more and she’d still be free. This was their world they’d created together and they should all have to live in it. He squeezed his eyes shut and put his finger on the trigger. Cameron’s mind raced, screaming at him to do it, shouting at him to stop. Gasping, he put the revolver down. He was covered in sweat, and that’s when he realized how close he’d come to actually pulling the trigger.

  “What did Reese say when she found out I was alive?” Cameron asked, hating himself for caring.

  “She still loves you, Cameron, if that’s what you’re asking.” Seagerman tilted his head and Cameron wondered if he was telling the truth. “But she thinks it’s a cruel joke. Another hoax. Hard to believe the truth when the lies are becoming more real.”

  “Touché.” Cameron hated himself for the fact that his heart beat faster thinking of Reese still loving him. “But she must have said something.”

  “That she wanted you back you mean? That you could live happily ever after if you just came home?”

  Al grunted a laugh and Cameron shook his head. “No. Just…I dunno. Was she happy?”

  “I’m not sure,” Seagerman said. “Maybe you should ask her. We could go see her, right now.”

  Cameron picked up Seagerman’s gun and aimed it his chest. The robot man’s eyes went wide. “I’ll kill you before I face Reese Leeward.”

  Chapter Ten

  Christchurch, New Zealand

  “Mrs. Police woman…officer…police person…erm.” Luckman couldn’t remember which to call her. What PC loop were they on recently? He’d been away from the states for so long, things like that failed to matter. Ice didn’t care about what you were—it froze you all the same. “Ma’am?” he tried, but she chose to ignore him.

  They’d stopped three times and returned from each house paler than before. “So, everyone’s dead, huh?” Holtz asked, trying to sound snarky, but they were all afraid.

  She didn’t answer him, either. She just drove on, and Luckman wondered if he’d died out there on the ice and this was all a dream. Maybe he was a ghost and that’s why she was ignoring him.

  But at the next stop sign, she sighed and stayed there, idling. “Where did you two come from anyway?” she asked.

  Luckman wanted to warn her and say that they needed to get as far away as they could. That they were in trouble if they stayed. If the cold came once, would it return? He felt it might. “Ma’am,” he tried and then crin
ged when her deep blue eyes turned to pin him in his seat with anger. “We weren’t robbing those people, just checking to see if anyone was alive. Is there a way you could let us go? We’re as surprised by this as you are.”

  “I asked where you came from.”

  “What, now or before?”

  She gritted her teeth. “How did you get here?”

  “A ship. The harbor.”

  “Impossible. It’s been frozen over for weeks.” He could hear a mark of hysteria in her voice. Of course there was. The people here were dead. Probably thousands…hundreds of thousands if it was the entire city or island.

  Maybe more…

  He tried to keep his voice soothing and calm. “We are scientists and we’d been aboard the Ocean Giant sailing from Antarctica. We’d been stationed there for many long months of exploration when this freeze hit us. We’re all in danger of it striking again, too.”

  Her partner swiveled in his chair, eyes wide. “What do you suggest we do?” his voice climbed higher with every word.

  “Kiss your ass goodbye, if you don’t let us go!” Holtz shouted.

  Out of the four of them, he was the loosest cannon. Luckman glanced at him with a firm glare and then turned back to the police officers. The partner was terrified; he’d no doubt been looking at dead people the entire day.

  Holtz leaned forward. “I think we should go to the other side, across the channel. I have friends in Wellington. Let’s get to the ferry. Now.” He glanced at Luckman. “Half of their weather is sub Antarctic and the other is tropical. The North Island is not as cold as this one. If we could get on the Cook Straight Ferry across the channel to the warmer climate, that might be enough. Tell them.”