by T. J. Mines
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
Blurb for next book
Beta reader thanks
FROZEN APOCALYPSE I - DU BOIS
T J Mines
Du Bois
By T J Mines
Copyright © 2017 by T J Mines. All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses or events is purely coincidental.
Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.
ISBN:
ISBN-13:
For my wife, because you put up with me and my stories.
CHAPTER ONE
It is dark and cold outside. The temperature is below freezing and there are no lights as far as the eye can see. Even scanning the horizon with binoculars there is only pitch black. Which is good. No light means no enemies. And no enemies means no battle. Or deaths. There have been too many deaths over the years. Not that Ismael is old. No, he just came of age if you use the old world standards. But mother earth and human kind changed all that. No, Ismael is considered a veteran and a professional in his trade.
He has been living in Du Bois his whole life. Eighteen years ago his mother gave birth to him. He was brought up by both his parents, who are still together in a happy life, and two sisters. While his sisters took after their parents and have a natural disposition towards growing food, Ismael has had no luck growing anything. In fact, he has been found to be better at killing. Not out of pleasure or need, but he is just good at it.
The training he has had since he was nine was focused on the task he is preforming now: keeping the town safe. Du Bois doesn't want to be the aggressor in any conflict. But it still needs to be able to defend itself. And Ismael seems to be one of the best of the people trying to. He has been top of his class and the envy of all his classmates for over eight years while still remaining one of the most liked boys in town.
Now he is sitting in the southern most watchtower. His task tonight is to keep an eye on the open fields to the south, where the Al Bari warlords rule. He has an array of tools to help him. But he relies most on his own senses. Looking around to see any form of light or movement in the moonless night is hard, but not impossible. And his ears are keen on any sound coming from beyond the walls. Still, he looks at the small tablet next to him to monitor the infrared cameras and motion sensors. Four small feeds show nothing but black, indication no heat is emanating from where they are pointed at. The motion sensor bars show no indication of any movement. And the large button in the bottom left is a dull red, ready to be activated at any time.
Something swoops by and a flash of orange is shown on one of the video feeds. It is small, fast and high up. Ismael can hear faint squeaks. It's a bat, hunting for food. Nothing to worry about. There are a lot of bats living in the old buildings to the north. They come here to feed on the insects living off the garbage thrown out by the people of Du Bois. Ismael has also seen snow owls, foxes and even wolves outside the walls. He knows their signature on the infrared by heart and doesn't worry about them. They keep out of the town proper, too scared to even try. Especially after the great hunts right after the ice came down. Chased south by the pack of ice the people ran into the advancing forces of the then fierce Middle Eastern Command. Not wanting to live under a tyrannical rule most fled to the Americas, crossing the retreating seas. The rest was left without transport or food. The survivors dove into a hoarding frenzy, killing any animal deemed fit to eat and taking it with them. It decimated the livestock and wildlife alike. Now all animals shun humans with a vigor. Only the domesticated livestock in towns like Du Bois can be held inside. The rest would fight to stay alive at any cost.
No, animals are of no concern to Ismael. He is on the lookout for humans. Especially motorized vehicles or groups of humans walking. There have been talks lately the chieftain in Al Bari is meaning to take over the free towns in the north to enlarge his domain. But those talks could just be that, talks. Nonetheless the Captain warned Ismael and his fellow guards to be extra vigilant. He told them to look and listen for any man-made sound or object that didn't come from the town itself. And even there, if it is something not normally in Du Bois, they should raise the alarm. Better safe than sorry is the man's motto.
Then a sound from beyond the walls peaks Ismael's interest. He picks up the binoculars and tries to find the source. The binoculars are ancient, at least by Ismael's standards. They have been around since forever and have once been the standard issue for a army scout. It enables the watcher to see in the dark. The landscape beyond is transformed in green lines which Ismael recognizes as ridges and gullies. Scanning over the wasteland in the direction the sound came from Ismael notices a ridge that is too high. A few hours earlier that ridge had a dip in the middle. Now it is almost a straight line. Zooming in on the ridge Ismael sees the glimpse of binoculars, pointing directly at his watch tower. He pushes the red button.
"Sir, Ismael pushed the alarm," says Mike, the guard on duty at the computer terminal.
"Show me his line of sight and give me audio," says the Captain.
Mike pushes some buttons and the big screen in the center of the room lights up. Six squares show nothing but darkness. The infrared feeds show no heat whatsoever.
"Yes Captain," sounds Ismael's voice over the speakers. He is whispering into his microphone.
"What have you got?" the Captain asks.
"People at 160 degrees south, at approximately 1000 meters," Ismael answers.
"Damn boy, how can you see that far out?"
"I'm still young."
Normally an answer like that would have earned Ismael a reprimand, but he is only stating the truth. The Captain is getting old and his sight isn't what it used to be. So he decides to let it slide, for now.
"Zoom in on 160 degrees south, 1000 meters out," he commands.
Mike selects the appropriate camera and shows it full screen. Then he zooms in. The feed becomes grainy from the high level of magnification, but the ridge that should have a dip now is filled in with something.
"I have a visual," the Captain confirms, "ready guns 15 through 26."
"Yes sir," Mike acknowledges. Mike turns to a different station and on the screen there he taps the gun icons indicated by the Captain. One by one the icons turn from gray to green, indicating they are ready for action.
"Captain?" Ismael says over the com, "I think they are just here to watch us."
"Why do you think that?" the Captain asks.
"Well, we've been staring at each other for a few minutes now, and they either don't notice me, or are confident I won't shoot them."
"Which is more likely?"
"The latter," Ismael answers, "I can see their lenses reflexion, so they should be able to see mine."
"Good thinking Ismael. What do you think is their purpose?"
"Probably reconnaissance."
"That's what I thought. We have no choice but to eliminate them. We can't have them spy on us and tell their leaders how we are organized."
"Sir," Mike speaks up, "do you want me to activate the machine guns?"
"How many are there Ismael?"
"I only see one set of binoculars. But there can be more under the cover they are using."
"How many, Ismael?"
"At most three."
"Can you take them
out?" the Captain asks Ismael.
"I can take the first one out. The rest depends, if they panic and run, yes. But if they dig in, not a chance."
"I can take them," Mike says, "It's easy with the 50 calibers."
"No Mike, not while the whole town is asleep."
"Right sir."
"Ismael, you have my permission to take them out."
"Yes sir," Ismael confirms.
Ismael picks up the sniper rifle next to him and starts preparing the gun for the task at hand. He slots in the five-bullet magazine and loads the weapon. Resting it on a stand on the wall he peers down the scope. He lost his targets for a moment but taking his eye from the scope he reorients himself. Again sure where the ridge is he looks through the scope again. The view port is tiny compared to the binoculars, so he takes the close up search very slow.
After a moment Ismael sees the cover but not the glint of glass looking back at him. They must have seen what he was doing and are now scrambling to counteract. Ismael can see the camouflage moving while men, or women, are doing something that he probably won't like.
Adjusting his scope for the ever persistent wind Ismael picks the bump in the covers he thinks is a person. He steadies his breath, concentrating on the task at hand.
"They're setting up a gun!" Ismael can hear Mike through his ear piece.
"Silence, let Ismael do his job," the Captain says to Mike.
Taken out of his concentration Ismael has to refocus on the ridge. There he can see the muzzle of a small caliber rifle. At the range they are at the bullet could just about reach him, it is a real danger. Putting his finger on the trigger Ismael aims at the bulge above the weapon. Letting his breath out he squeezes the trigger and a loud shot is heard. In a tower at the north end of the town several birds are startled by it and fly away.
"You got one," says the Captain, "he's dead. Nice shot."
Ismael looks through the scope and sees the camouflage is gone. On the ground behind the ridge is a small man, dressed in dark clothes designed to mask body heat. His head is split open from the bullet Ismael fired. In his fall backward he took the covers with him.
Next to the dead man two others are still trying to get a bead on Ismael. With everything out in the open the one holding the rifle takes aim and fires at Ismael. He can hear the bullet ricochet off the steel armored wall below him.
Ismael readies himself for the next shot. Aiming at the person, a woman this time, holding the rifle he takes another shot. Looking at the bullet's trajectory Ismael can see it going through the woman's heart. The impact sends her down on her back and since she is still holding the rifle, taking it with her. Two down, one to go.
Looking through his scope Ismael tries to find the third person. He is not at the ridge anymore.
"I lost one," he says.
"We have him. He is going west, towards the tracks," the Captain informs Ismael.
He swings his scope right and overshoots his target. Waiting for the man to enter his scope again Ismael steadies his breath. But the man doesn't enter his view. Instead, Ismael hears a sound he wasn't expecting.
"He's got a motorcycle!" Mike shouts.
"How the hell did they get that there?" the Captain says.
Using the sound to triangulate Ismael finds his target, but only just in time to see the man rev the motor and speed away.
"Do we send a drone after him?" Ismael asks.
"No, too expensive," answers the Captain, "And he didn't see anything important I guess."
"He tested our defenses."
"And his two mates are dead for it. I think that lets them know we don't play around here."
"Now what," Mike asks.
"Now we continue our watch and hope they don't come rolling in with an army right now," says the Captain, "Tomorrow we'll check out the camp they made and see how they managed to get that motorcycle within our dead zone."
Ismael unloads the sniper rifle. Laying it next to him it is ready to use whenever he needs. The red button on his tables stops blinking and everything is quiet again.
The sun shows it's first light over the horizon. In town the Imam starts the call for morning prayers while church bells indicate a new day has begun. All over town people get out of their houses and start their day. The merchants cart their wares to the market where they set-up their stalls for the day. The smells of fresh bread, fruit and vegetables is invigorating to Ismael while he leaves the command room. He just finished his report of the incident and is now on his way home for a quick nap. Later that day the Captain wants him to join the investigation party. Ismael doesn't mind, he never sleeps for long anyway.
Strolling through the market on his way to the apartment he shares with his family he buys a loaf of bread and some cheese. All produce is grown locally in the urban farm where his parents and sisters work. The tall building, made primarily from glass, has been placed on the site where a cathedral once stood. After a bombardment during the troubled times it was reduced to bits, killing the two hundred refugees living there. The responsibility for the act was taken by a religious militia group called The Will of Allah. The group, a splinter cell of the larger Middle Eastern Command, was later put on trial and executed for their actions. Even if the Middle Eastern Command dislikes other religions, that doesn't justify killing innocent people for it.
Ismael eats while he walks, nodding at the people he knows and greeting the friends he meets. None of them ask about the shots fired that night or if he was involved. The people of Du Bois don't like to talk about the bad things in life. They prefer to be optimistic and want to live in peace. Not knowing about the constant struggles against militant groups or the delusions from chieftains down south helps.
Arriving at his apartment building Ismael thumbs the door to open it. Walking up the three flights of stairs Ismael feels tired. Killing people isn't something he likes. He calls it wasting lives. If Ismael had his way, the whole world would live and let live. Not to turn the other cheek but just walk away when there is a fight. That all would be best in his opinion. But life isn't like that. So Ismael does his job as best he can. If that means killing people from time to time, so be it. As long as he can justify it for himself.
Entering the apartment he bumps into his sister, Meryam.
"Hey little brother, how was work?" she asks.
"Not good. I've killed two people. One was a woman."
"Why? Did they deserve it?"
"Well, I guess. The Captain ordered me to shoot them," Ismael answers.
"Then they deserved to die. What's so bad about that?"
"I took their life. Who am I to take someone's life?"
"Then you should have become a farmer like the rest of us. Or a doctor like Aysa's husband." Meryam looks at him with a broad smile, sure of herself he is joking with her. He's never had any doubts about killing anyone. At least not that she knows of.
"Never mind," Ismael says, "Where are mom and dad?"
"At Aysa's. They wanted to visit them before work," Meryam answers.
"How is she?" Ismael asks, "and how is the baby?"
"They are all fine. The baby is almost old enough to name now."
"That's good to hear! Only five more days, right?"
"It's four." Meryam takes Ismael's chin in her hand and makes him focus on her. "Did you lose a day again?"
"I guess so," Ismael shrugs as he shakes his head loose. "Night shift fucks up my sense of time."
Ismael walks around Meryam into the kitchen and takes the paper bag his breakfast was in out of his pocket.
"You should go to work and I need to sleep," he says while straightening the paper, "I need to be ready for duty in a few hours. We're going on patrol outside the walls."
When he's satisfied the paper is sufficiently flat and wrinkle free he opens a drawer. Inside is a stack of the same paper bags. He puts his new bag with the others and closes the drawer.
Meryam is looking at him with a worried frown on her otherwise perfect face.
"Be careful out there," she says.
"I will, don't worry about me. The Captain is coming too."
"Good. Have a good sleep. See you tonight."
With that Meryam leaves the apartment, closing the door behind her.
Ismael walks to his room. A few months ago he had to share the room with Meryam. When Aysa, their oldest sister, got a boyfriend their parents made Meryam share the room with him. That way Aysa could share her room with Chase anytime they wanted. The siblings didn't like it but for most of the time Ismael worked the nights while Meryam was away at work during the day. Timesharing the room somewhat worked for them.
Now Ismael had the room to himself it felt more secure and private then ever before. He made Meryam remove all her belongings to ensure a woman free zone. Then he bought fresh paint and redecorated the small space into a save haven for him to retreat in.
Opposite the door, under the window, is a small desk with a terminal, his writing utensils and various books on tactics and warfare. To the left of the desk is his bed. Above the bed is a shelf holding some of his trophies, won at the yearly games. The right side of the room is clear of furniture, except for a bright blue bean bag. That's his chill spot. From the bean bag he can look out the window and enjoy the clouds drift by.
Tired as he is he just undresses and climbs into his bed. Shifting around to find a comfortable position he ends up with his back to the wall and falls asleep.
CHAPTER TWO
"Next stop: Du Bois," sounds a computer voice through the train compartment, "Estimated travel time: 5 minutes. This will be the end of the line. Please gather all of your belongings and vacate the train as soon as possible. The train will be sanitized 10 minutes after arrival. Anything left inside will be incinerated."
Abdul Hamid Mikhail startles awake. He just catches the last of the announcement. Afraid he is going to leave anything behind never to be found again he starts picking up his stuff. He packs away the book he was reading before he fell asleep and picks up his travel mug. It still contains some tea, which he drinks. Putting the container into his backpack he checks the contents. Everything is accounted for. To be sure he's not going to be the last one out he gets up and moves to the nearest vestibule. There he is the first to arrive. The empty space has only two handrails, located on either side of the door. As Abdul enters the vestibule the train moves at high speed across some switches, rocking the carriage from side to side. To keep his footing Abdul lunges towards the nearest handrail and grabs on. During the following minutes, the train slows down, occasionally crossing more switches, and keeping Abdul from letting go.
