America Offline | Books 1 & 2 | The Day After Darkness

by Weber, William H.

  Dakota shook her head. “Yeah, watch me.”

  Nate laughed as he swung the truck into reverse. Dakota braced herself while Shadow dug his paws into the upholstery, looking up, alarmed.

  When they drew even with the rest stop’s entrance ramp, Nate put it into drive and punched the accelerator. Snow sprayed in all directions, flying off the snow wedge as well as the rear tires. They were about to pass before the restaurant when a handful of men began spilling out, waving weapons around and shouting.

  “Hold on,” Nate shouted as he pumped the brakes and spun the wheel. The slick road conditions did the rest, swinging the Beast’s tail out and to the left. The shots rang out right about then, kicking up puffs of loose snow around the truck. A second later they circled around behind the restaurant, Nate working the wheel to avoid any hidden obstacles. They would be safe from fire for a brief moment or two, but as they raced back onto the interstate, they would once again be exposed.

  Sure enough, as the Beast plowed through about a foot of freshly fallen snow, it became clear the snow here wasn’t as deep as it should be. Come to think of it, neither had the on-ramp into the rest station been. That meant they weren’t the first vehicle through what was obviously meant to be a trap. Nate hurried as shots continued to ring out. When one of them struck the vehicle, Nate pushed the gas down even further. Dakota was perched over her seat, looking out through the back window at the scene unfolding behind them. They were pulling even with the blockade on the interstate when shots rang out from the men gathered there. Rounds were now coming in from multiple directions.

  Nate accelerated further, trying desperately to exit the danger zone without crashing into the many hidden obstacles lurking just out of view.

  “They’re following us,” Dakota shouted.

  A pickup with abnormally large tires tore out from the parking lot, charging after them, a blizzard of white flakes swirling in their wake.

  Dakota climbed into the back seat with the hunting rifle, leaving Shadow to retreat into a corner. She opened the rear window and fed the barrel out.

  “Steady,” she yelled, struggling to put her eye to the scope. The enemy vehicle was coming up fast, its engine snarling.

  Dakota rattled off a shot and it sailed about five feet over the roof. With practiced ease, she worked the bolt and fed another round into the chamber. Her eye returned to the scope.

  With both hands gripping the wheel, Nate spotted a cluster of wrecks up ahead. Some were not buried, but many of the vehicles closest to the left lane―the only lane of traffic still open―bore nothing more than a light dusting. He grew further alarmed when he saw that in many of the wrecks the driver’s side door was open. It appeared they were being led into a dead end, one where many a previous chase victim had met their end. But there was more. The back end of a Honda hatchback jutted out onto the road, leaving a space not nearly wide enough for the Beast to pass through.

  “We’re not gonna make it,” Nate said, quickly weighing his options. He could either go full out or slow down and fight. The second option was the riskiest, since the pickup chasing them would likely opt to crash into their rear and then finish off the wounded at their leisure.

  Another crack from Dakota’s rifle was followed by a curse. Nate slammed the brakes, making the Beast fishtail violently.

  “Didn’t I say keep her steady?”

  The truck stopped and Nate reached back, retrieving the G36. He popped the door and stood on the step rail, taking careful aim at the vehicle roaring towards them. Without much conscious thought, Nate opted to go for the driver, rather than the engine. He and Dakota both fired simultaneously. Two tiny holes penetrated the windshield, kicking up a spray of blood inside the cab. The passenger, his left cheek now painted red, his mouth gaping with fear, grabbed for the wheel, tugging it toward him just a little too sharply. The pickup with the large wheels swerved to the right, climbing up the low end of a blue BMW convertible and into the air. It landed somewhere out of sight with a crash, rolling over repeatedly, ejecting men and weapons like an amusement ride gone haywire.

  Dakota stared through her scope down the length of highway they’d just covered.

  “You see anyone else following us?” Nate asked, his mouth dry, his heart hammering in his chest. Arctic wind buffeted his exposed face, but the burst of adrenaline surging through his body kept him from feeling it.

  “None that I see,” she replied, pulling her eye up from the scope to look at him.

  Nate put the truck in drive and pushed up to the hatchback, giving it gas as the Beast spun its tires in an effort to shift the obstruction out of their way. They weren’t getting enough traction. At least not at first. Slowly, it started to give as the Beast began to live up to its name.

  A minute later, they had shoved the obstructing vehicle aside. Still processing what had just happened, Dakota ran an unsteady hand over Shadow’s head and across his furry back.

  They got only the swiftest of glances at the enemy truck as they pulled away. It was upside down along the shoulder, steam or white smoke rising from the undercarriage, a single wobbly wheel still spinning.

  “I must say, that was a great shot I made,” Nate said, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the center console.

  Dakota squealed in protest. “What are you talking about? My shot was the one that hit. Yours was like a foot to the right. I mean, at the most you skinned him.”

  “Skinned? More like center mass, baby,” he shouted, pumping his fist.

  She was right. His shot had gone a touch wide. He would admit it all later, of course, when things were quiet. When her ego was less prone to inflation. That was how the guys at the police academy had done it. Never let the new kid start believing his own hype. The truth was that shot of hers had likely saved their lives, no doubt one of millions of brave and noble acts the world would never know—a single flake lost in a field of snow. Dakota might not be his daughter, but that didn’t stop him from wishing she was.

  Chapter 15

  Back at the nursing home, Holly was marching down a long narrow hallway. She soon reached a metal door with a push bar and was about to hang a right, just as the cook had instructed her, when she felt a cool breeze brush against her face. The metal door was slightly ajar and rattling. A buildup of snow packed against the bottom part of the frame prevented it from closing. Was this where the cook would duck outside to fill his bucket with ice? Where he would get the drinking water―the only nourishment for the poor souls trapped inside.

  Withdrawing her pistol, Holly pushed open the door. A powerful gust fought her, jostling it in her grasp, swinging it to and fro. At last she fought back, making her way outside, and stood looking about her.

  A path had been shoveled through the snow and it led from the main complex to a smaller structure out back. The snow at her feet was packed down from repeated trips back and forth. She could see on either side of the path where chunks of snow had been scooped up by the cook’s large bucket. But the main focus of her attention was on the structure up ahead. It wasn’t larger than a one-car garage with a single door and beside that a window frosted with ice.

  There was no light on inside. She tried the door handle and found it locked. Next, she rubbed her gloved hand against the pane of glass, slowly clearing away the obstruction. At last, she removed her phone, switched on the light and peered inside.

  A haggard face stared back at her and she let out an involuntary squeal of fright. She returned to the window, took another look and saw at once it was not a face that belonged to the living. Her heart beating a racket in her chest, Holly swiveled the light around as far as she could. This wasn’t a garage. It was a charnel house, packed with dozens of dead bodies. The elderly faces, frozen in agonizing death, all looked much the same. Except for one. A single face among them looked different from all the rest and Holly rose on her tiptoes to get a better look. This younger person was a female wrapped in a dark blazer. Above the breast pocket was a name tag that rea
d ‘Sally Johnson’ and below that ‘Administrator.’

  Holly recalled Nurse Louise discussing how Sally had simply upped and left. It was horrifyingly obvious now that the only way anyone left Peaceful Grove was through here, stacked in the back shed like cordwood.

  She caught the sound behind her less than a second before she spun, whirling out the pistol. Twenty feet away, the metal push door slammed shut with tremendous force. Whoever had done so was likely racing to the front entrance to lock her out there as well. Given the deep snow, there was no way she’d beat them to it. Instead, Holly started down the path and then climbed up and onto the embankment. She wouldn’t head around the building. She would head for the nearest window. When she came to one less than ten feet away, she used the butt of her pistol to break the glass and climb in. She suddenly found herself in the room of a patient, who began shouting.

  “Help! Someone’s trying to kill me. Help!”

  Holly ignored the old man, knowing attempting to reason with him would be futile. Moving out into the hallway, she swung left and right to ensure she wasn’t walking into an ambush. Charging through the darkness with her phone flashlight in one hand and her gun in the other, Holly felt her pulse jackhammering in her neck, a million thoughts running through her head all at the same time.

  Within seconds she reached the push door leading to the shed and hooked a right.

  She sped past a series of closed doors. There wasn’t time to give any of them more than a cursory glance. She needed to find Manny and Dillon and get them out of here as soon as possible.

  A handful of twists and turns followed before the corridor spit her out at the front entrance. Standing there was a small group of people. Many of them looked like staff from the old-age home. Leaning against the wall was Manny, being comforted by a late middle-aged man in a cream-colored suit. Dillon was a foot or two away, speaking with Nurse Louise.

  Holly leveled her pistol. “I don’t know what the hell is going on here, but all of you need to back off.”

  The man in the cream suit swung around, the move perfectly controlled and almost hypnotic. “Young lady, Peaceful Grove is a gun-free facility.” His salt-and-pepper hair was dense for his age, partly slicked back over his skull.

  “Too bad. You’re anti-gun, but pro-murder. Clearly you’re insane.”

  “Lower the gun before an innocent person gets hurt.”

  Holly’s pistol didn’t waver. “Are you Earl?” she said, the words sounding more like an accusation than a question.

  “Francis Earl Duncan,” he said, his voice betraying the hint of a Southern accent. It was hard to place, somewhere in Alabama or maybe South Carolina. He wore a wide, welcoming grin, as though Holly had stepped into a funeral home rather than a nightmare. Grey hair aside, the guy could’ve been anywhere from forty to sixty. Everything he said made you feel comfortable. At home. “I see you’ve met some of my staff. I was just having a word with Emmanuel here…”

  “W-who?” she said, stuttering, not sure anymore what was happening. Had all of this simply been the product of a fevered dream? Would she open her eyes only to find herself still sleeping on the hard floor of Concourse C?

  “Manny’s short for Emmanuel,” he explained patiently. “I was letting him know how his beloved Granny Rivas succumbed to pneumonia. I’m sorry to say it’s claimed a number of the older folks since the power’s gone out,” he lamented, forming the sign of the cross. “For many of them, the cold is simply too much.”

  “That’s bull,” she shouted. “I saw the bodies out back.”

  Understanding bloomed over Earl’s smooth features. “I’m sure you have. And where would you have us put them… Holly, is it?” His gaze flit between her and Manny, who was rubbing his eyes and nodding.

  A fresh surge of doubt began to creep in. “But you’re feeding them nothing but meltwater.”

  Earl’s brow furrowed. “Hogwash. Who was it that told you a fib like that?”

  Holly pointed to the cook, a white towel stained with tomato juice slung over his shoulder. “He did.”

  The man folded his arms over his chest and shook his head. “I don’t remember saying that.”

  “But…” Holly’s mind was reeling. Had she been hearing things or were these people lying to save themselves? Then a light in her mind flickered on. “What about Sally Johnson?”

  The room stirred uncomfortably.

  “I already told you,” Nurse Louise said, not sounding all that friendly anymore. “She went and ran off.”

  “Maybe she tried to,” Holly shot back. “But she didn’t get very far.”

  Earl took a step toward her and reached out a hand. “I’m afraid none of us know what you’re talking about. Now give us the gun.”

  Holly blinked. “Back off, buddy, or I’ll drop you right here and now.” She shifted her gaze to a fresh face she hadn’t seen before, a frightened girl with blonde hair and bright eyes in her early twenties. “There’s a white shed out back, do you know it?” Holly asked her.

  The girl made a small, almost imperceptible nod.

  “Good. Run out there and take a good long look through the window and tell me if you see any faces you recognize.”

  The girl stood frozen.

  “Do it now!” Holly barked. She then turned to Louise. “While we’re waiting, my son Dillon suffers from Asperger’s. I need as many Zoloft pills as you can spare.”

  The nurse paused before stepping away.

  “Young lady, I think you’re making a terrible mistake,” Earl said, choosing his words carefully, as he always did. “If you have any concerns about the operation of this nursing home, I suggest you contact the authorities and fill out a―”

  Holly scoffed. “You know perfectly well the cops have bigger fish to fry. That’s why you bumped Sally off and manipulated everyone who chose to stay. So you could enjoy a little power play at everyone else’s expense. You may look smooth and polished, but underneath, you’re nothing but a monster.”

  “I suspect the patients and employees I’ve helped keep alive here would strenuously disagree.”

  “I’m sure they will. They’ve been brainwashed. Just because the authorities might be too busy to bring you to justice doesn’t mean I won’t string you up myself.”

  Earl’s eyes went wide.

  A male nurse came forward, shielding Earl with his own body. “Leave him alone, lady. You don’t know what you’re talking about. He’s a good man.”

  “I feel sorry for you,” Earl said, his gaze burrowing into Holly. “How embarrassed you’ll feel when this is all said and done.”

  The black nurse returned and held out two bottles of pills. Holly reached for them. Just then, the nurse’s other hand sprang up, holding a pistol. Reacting on pure adrenaline, Holly bumped it away just as it fired, the bullet striking a male nurse who was standing by the door. He clutched at his hip and sank to one knee. Manny jumped in to wrestle the gun from her. Earl sank to the floor, shielding himself as several figures grabbed at the nurse and others came for Holly. Raising her pistol, Holly fired once in the air, the earsplitting sound stunning the crowd and forcing them back.

  “Check on this guy, would you,” Holly said, waving two people over to the male nurse on the ground. “Anyone else so much as twitches and you die.” Over by the far wall, Dillon was cupping his hands over his ears. Loud noises not only frightened him, they disturbed him in a way the ordinary person couldn’t comprehend. “Manny, grab those pill bottles, will you?”

  He scooped them off the floor and handed them to her. Holly glanced quickly at the name on the label and saw they were indeed the correct medication. She then turned her attention back to Earl. “Gun-free facility, eh?”

  Footsteps sounded down the hall as the girl with the blonde hair came racing back. She skidded to a stop before them, panting. “She’s right. Sally’s dead, along with so many patients I couldn’t count them all.”

  Those assembled in the room gasped. Everyone except for Earl and the
nurse on the floor next to him.

  Holly leveled the gun at Earl’s head. “Any last words?”

  “Earl wasn’t the one who killed Sally,” Louise said, her hands clasped together. “It was me.”

  “What?” Holly said, stunned. “But why?”

  “I don’t know,” she replied. “It just seemed like the right thing to do.”

  That didn’t make sense. “Did Earl order you to kill her?”

  “I’ve never killed anyone,” Earl protested.

  The nurse looked up as though she were replaying a conversation in her head. “Not in so many words, he didn’t.”

  “But you knew Earl wanted her out of the way, didn’t you?” Holly asked.

  The nurse hesitated before nodding. “Earl made it clear that without her, we’d all stand a much better chance at making it through this.”

  “That’s the great thing about brainwashing, isn’t it, Earl,” Holly said, her voice filled with contempt. “Not only did you have others doing your dirty work, you had them believing the evil impulse was their own idea.”

  He didn’t look so sure of himself anymore. “I didn’t d―”

  “Save your denials,” she said, cutting him off and sliding her finger over the trigger.

  Earl squinted his eyes shut.

  “No more,” Dillon said, his hands still over his ears. “No more, no more, no more.”

  As sensitive as he was to noise, Dillon was even more sensitive to executions.

  She eased her finger off. “Don’t worry, Francis Earl Duncan. I have a better idea for you.”

  Ten minutes later, Earl was bundled into a winter coat and wearing a backpack loaded with nothing but a sealed jug of water.

  “The water’s for when you get hungry,” Holly told him, relishing the bewildered look on his face. “Besides, you said yourself the punishment for breaking the rules was banishment or death. Hardly seems to make any sense killing you ourselves when Mother Nature’s more than happy to do it for us.”