Final Days

by Jasper T. Scott

  Apparently the only people left in the city were either insane or suicidal. Andrew absently wondered where he fit on that spectrum.

  It was after midnight by the time he decided to pull off the chaotic streets and take cover around the back of a motel. He was planning to just kick in one of the doors and then block it with furniture while he rested and figured out what to do next, but he’d broken enough laws for one day, so he went to the front office to see if anyone was still around.

  This time he was prepared for whatever flavor of crazy the owner might be serving, and he took his gun with him. The front doors were locked and no lights were on. Andrew rattled the doors loudly. A whistling wind blew across the parking lot, and he shivered. This was stupid. No one was here.

  He turned away from the doors and walked around to where he’d parked his truck. He entered a dark, open corridor that crossed from one side of the main building to the other. That corridor also housed a stairwell to the second floor.

  As Andrew neared the stairs, he felt the skin on the back of his neck prickle, and a deep voice stopped him cold: “Drop the gun and kick it away.”

  A familiar click sounded next: the action of a revolver cocking.

  Andrew dropped his gun and kicked it a few feet from him before raising his hands and slowly turning to face whoever had just ambushed him.

  He was getting sloppy. He should have stayed alert rather than assume the place was abandoned. Better yet, he should have completely avoided motels after his last experience.

  The guy covering him was tall and skinny with blond hair pulled into a ponytail, and a thick mustache clinging to his upper lip. Cigarette smoke wafted off the guy’s clothes in noxious waves. The revolver turned out to be a gleaming silver .357 magnum.

  “Are you the owner?” Andrew asked mildly.

  “What do you care?” the guy challenged.

  “I was looking for you. I want a room. I can pay. Cash.”

  The owner snorted and made a ‘gimme’ gesture with one hand. “Okay, let’s see some green. Slowly.”

  Andrew caught a glimpse of the dog tags dangling from the guy’s neck. It could just be jewelry, but he decided to take a gamble. “Army?” he asked as withdrew his wallet and pulled out two twenties.

  “National Guard. 79th Infantry Brigade,” the guy said. He took the bills and pocketed them.

  “I was a Marine corporal with the 24th Expeditionary,” Andrew said. “Fought in Afghanistan back in 2008.”

  “You don’t say.” The guy didn’t bat an eye. “Is that supposed to make me feel all warm and fuzzy?”

  “I guess not. Look, I just need a place to regroup for a bit. The streets are crazy, and I don’t want to get hijacked while I’m pulled over somewhere.”

  “I hear ya. The trouble is, I don’t want to get shot in the head for bein’ the good Samaritan who gave you a room, so I’ll tell you what. You want to stay here, you leave your gun with me until you’re ready to leave.”

  Andrew considered that. He didn’t seem to have much choice. “All right.”

  “Glad we could come to an understanding. Move away slowly from the weapon. I’ll pick it up, and then you follow me to the front office and we’ll set you up with a room key. You got your pick of the whole joint tonight.” The man smiled, revealing cigarette-stained yellow teeth.

  Andrew did as he was told and then went with the owner, marching ahead of him with two guns aimed at his back. “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Seth.”

  “I’m Andy.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  Andrew was waiting for some indication that he was about to get shot in the back, but it never came. Something about Seth seemed genuine. He pocketed Andrew’s gun and unlocked the front office with one of a thousand different keys jangling on a big silver loop clipped to his belt.

  “Why haven’t you evacuated yet?” Andrew asked as he walked into the office.

  “To tell the truth, I don’t buy it,” Seth said. He walked around behind the front desk and opened a drawer, making sure to keep Andrew covered with his magnum the whole time.

  Andrew heard keys jangling again as Seth rifled around inside his desk.

  “I mean, who ever heard of Mother Nature coordinating disasters? Somehow the San Andreas is gonna knock half of the state into the Pacific and at the same time Yellowstone is gonna blow her top? It doesn’t add up. Something else is goin’ on, and I wanna be around to see why they’re really evacuatin’ everyone. That, and I don’t want to come back to find my motel trashed by a gang of drunken end o’ the world partiers.”

  “Yeah, that makes sense, I guess,” Andrew said. Maybe Seth was right.

  The motel owner handed him a key for room 201. “That’s the best I’ve got. It has a kitchen, a nice view of the city, and it’s on a corner on the second floor, so you’ll have some warning if there’s any trouble coming.”

  “Thank you,” Andrew said. “You have WiFi here?”

  “Yep. Password is in the room on the nightstand.”

  “Perfect. I’ll come for my gun at checkout. Where do I find you? Here?” Andrew suggested, nodding to the front desk.

  “Sure, why not.”

  Andrew wasn’t sure how far he could trust this guy, but so far Seth hadn’t tried anything. On his way to the suite, he went back to his truck and grabbed David’s laptop and phone. Maybe he’d get lucky and guess one of the passwords.

  Up on the second floor he walked around, checking the green doors until he found one with the number 201 stamped on it in cheap peel-and-stick gold numbers. His corner suite stank of smoke and old, musty carpets, but it would do. He locked the chain on the door and jammed a chair under the door handle for added security.

  He went to find the WiFi password and connect his phone. Thankfully the connection worked, and Google loaded in just a few seconds. He had a data connection, but it wasn’t unlimited, and he didn’t want to use up all of his bandwidth only to find himself tapped out when he really needed it.

  Andrew sat on the bed running Google searches for hackers that he could hire. The second result was:

  Computer Wizardry and Hackery for Hire

  www.digitalwizardry.com

  He tried the link, browsed to the “Contact” area, and filled out the form. He wrote a brief summary of what he needed and why—help breaking into a phone and a laptop, in order to turn up leads and find his missing daughter. He also mentioned his current location as San Diego and left his cell number for an additional means of contact.

  When he was done, he hit send, receiving an automatic response from the site:

  Thank for your inquiry. The Digital Wizard will get back to you in his next clock cycle.

  Andrew frowned at that, wondering if the guy behind the site would actually see his message, or even respond to it if he did.

  He picked up David’s phone and depressed the power button. The lock screen appeared. A pattern lock. Maybe he could guess it? He turned off the phone and slanted it toward the light to check the pattern of finger grease on the screen, but it was smeared into oblivion.

  He tried five different patterns, all wrong, and ended up locking himself out for a minute. Andrew kept that up for the next hour, waiting a minute between each set of five wrong patterns, but he soon lost track of all the different combinations he’d tried. How many possibilities were there? Thousands? Millions? He gave up and rolled over with a sigh.

  That was when his phone began buzzing and ringing with an incoming call. He sat up in a hurry and snatched his phone off the bed to see who it was. Maybe it was that FBI agent.

  His heart sank when he saw who it actually was. Just Selena again. This time he answered. “Hey.”

  “Andrew, you asshole!” she screamed in his ear. “I’ve been going out of my mind! Where are you? Have you found Val yet? The president issued an official evacuation for the entire West Coast.”

  “I’m still here, nosing around. I’m working on some leads.” He didn’t
have the heart to tell her that he’d found the guy who’d taken Val. Nor did he want to spread David’s sick and obviously false claims about what he’d done with her.

  “What leads?” Selena insisted.

  He told her about the laptop and phone he’d stolen that belonged to a guy seen fleeing the scene of an abduction at UC San Diego. He skipped the part about having interrogated and shot that guy in the head.

  “You need to see what’s on them!” Selena said.

  “I’m working on it. I’m busy trying to find a hacker who can break the security. Listen, I have to go, but I’ll call you if I turn up anything else.”

  “You’ve only got four days, Andrew! That’s it! You better find her before that, or so help me...” Selena trailed off in a sob.

  “I will. Stay safe and keep your phone close.” He ended the call and sprawled on the bed, staring at the popcorn ceiling and wishing like hell he had a drink. With every setback along the way, his despair and desperation grew, and the monster inside of him with it.

  He found himself absently toying with the 90-day sober chip around his neck. That chip was a lie now, but Val had been his strongest supporter, and she’d bought him the necklace that the chip hung from. Right now that thin band of silver felt like the only connection to her that he had left.

  A sharp pain began in his throat, constricting his breathing to shallow gasps, and making his eyes feel hot.

  “I’m not giving up on you, Val,” he whispered. He’d keep searching to the very end, even if he ran flat out of time and got tossed into the ocean right along with the California coast.

  Andrew sat up and rubbed his tired eyes to search for another hacker he could hire. If he contacted enough of them, at least one was sure to answer.

  Seventeen

  Kendra

  4 Days Left…

  The day after the evacuation notice, San Diego was a ghost town. Garbage was strewn about; cars burned on the side of the streets. This is what happens to humanity under pressure. Instead of uniting to achieve a goal, they destroy everything they worked so hard to build. Kendra shook her head as she pushed her disdain to the side.

  She’d had trouble sleeping last night, and the coffee wasn’t strong enough this morning. There were no stores open, so she had to rely on her own brew from home, and she took another swig, tasting grounds between her teeth.

  When she’d first moved to the city, she’d loved it. She’d had aspirations… so many dreams that never came true. She was going to learn to surf, to buy a paddleboard and spend weekends in the water: just her, the board, the sand, and the sun. She’d only been in the ocean twice over the years, and once was when an old FBI acquaintance from out of town came to visit. She’d wanted to make the woman think she was embracing the coastal dwelling.

  The truth was, Kendra had never felt at home here. She missed the smell of crops in the summer, the flat Midwestern land, the friendly faces. She missed her sister most of all.

  “Goddamn it, Ken, get it together. She’s gone.” Kendra slapped the steering wheel with a palm, hard enough to hurt. “She’s gone! And if you’re not careful, you’ll be gone too.”

  The roads were dead, a complete juxtaposition to yesterday’s entire day of gridlock. A streetlight turned red, and she instinctively pressed the brake, rubbing her head as the car idled at the light. A horn blared, and a banged-up Ferrari tore through the intersection, its exhaust sounding like a sonic boom. She expected to see a plume of smoke as it crashed into a street pole a block away, but it didn’t. She could still hear it as it drove farther and farther away.

  “Looky what we have here,” a voice said through her open window, and Kendra spun to see a group of men approaching the car. A few settled in front of the vehicle before she could drive away. They were thugs, undoubtedly. She’d seen their type a million times. They were always lurking in dark corners, waiting for someone weaker than them so they could exploit them, use them, steal from them, or worse. Not today.

  More of them emerged from the other alley, and Kendra didn’t hesitate. She pulled her gun out, flashing the steel, and the lead man raised his hands in the air.

  “We only want… your car.” He sneered at her with squinted eyes, his face wild, twitchy.

  “Move!” she shouted to the guys standing near the front of the car with bats in their hands. She was feeling twitchy herself.

  When they didn’t move, she knew what she had to do. It was the end of times, and she didn’t need to play by the rules anymore. It was survival. Someone was at the passenger side of her car, testing the handle, which was locked. He pulled his bat away, ready to smash the glass, and she gunned the gas pedal, sending three men barreling to the side.

  One of them was on her hood, and she heard a bottle hit the trunk as the thugs threw more toward her. Kendra panicked, jerking the steering wheel left and right, trying to toss the bastard off her hood. He gripped the windshield wipers, his gap-toothed smile wide. She pulled the washer fluid lever, sending liquid shooting at his face.

  He rolled off as she took a hard left turn, narrowly missing a bus bench on the sidewalk as she hopped the curb. Kendra kept driving as the man spun on the pavement, coming to a halt. She was off target by a couple of blocks by the time she slowed, adrenaline pumping through her body.

  If anyone had stayed behind, like the group that had come for her, they’d be sticking to the main routes, knowing most people would be using them to get around. Kendra decided to use side streets to the office. With no lights to worry about, or traffic, it wouldn’t take long at all.

  She was optimistic she’d find something in the pictures from Mr. Tesla’s house, but she was still pissed there hadn’t been a laptop in sight. Kendra felt this case was slipping away from her.

  She slowed at the sight of a low-rent motel. A sole vehicle sat in the parking lot, backed into the spot for a quick exit. It was a black Silverado. Could it be the same one she kept running into? She kept driving, trying to think what her best move was. This guy had talked to her at the university, he’d watched her in the café from the street, and he’d obviously been the one to kill Mr. Tesla. If anyone knew what was going on, it was him.

  Could she go cuff the guy and force him to talk? He was tough, and carried himself with a demeanor that shouted ex-law enforcement or military. She wasn’t sure knocking on his door would be the most prudent course of action, so she circled around the block, stopping beside a twenty-four-hour laundromat. The windows were smashed, and quarters spread out across the sidewalk.

  Kendra scanned the mirrors, making sure no one was going to sneak up on her, and set her Glock in her lap, stretching over for the glove box. She had a few tricks she kept with her at all times, and she was glad to be able to use one of them. The GPS unit was tiny. She slid it from the matchbook-sized box and placed it on her fingertip. It was no larger than an Advil.

  She linked it to her cell phone, and watched as the light blinked, displaying its current location on a map. This guy was either who he said he was, and was the world’s best detective, or he was involved, killing Mr. Tesla to tie up loose ends. Either way, he was going to lead her to the missing people; she was sure of it.

  The air felt electric as she stepped onto the sidewalk, her gun safely in its holster. She moved quickly and efficiently, constantly scanning for trouble. A gunshot rang out in the distance, momentarily stopping her, but she moved again, with fluid purpose.

  The motel was there, the lights flickering on and off on the red letter M. A shadow moved behind curtains in one of the rooms near the Silverado, and Kendra crouched low, crawling to the front of the vehicle. She crept to the passenger side, away from the windows, and placed the miniature device into the wheel well, making sure it stuck firmly.

  She clutched her cell phone as her shoulders pressed against the side of the truck. The light blinked, telling her the GPS was functional. Kendra thought she could hear the man inside, talking to someone—or to himself—and she took a deep breath. It was tim
e to get out of here.

  She glanced up at the room. He was so close. She could burst in, point the gun at the man, and demand to know where the abducted people were stashed. Carrie’s face appeared in the back of her eyelids, smiling at her. She pushed it away.

  Minutes later she was in her car, heading for the FBI field office, already exhausted from the morning’s events. She arrived unimpeded ten minutes later, and found the glass door to the office locked, with a note taped to it from the inside.

  This office is closed. Any agents can reconnect at our Houston office. Log in to your account for more details. We apologize for any inconvenience.

  “What a crock,” Kendra whispered as she pulled her key from her pocket.

  Luckily it still turned, causing the bolt to snap open. Kendra locked it up again as she stepped into the entrance, wondering why no one had contacted her about them shutting the office down. It was just like them to leave her on the outs. Houston. It felt so far away.

  The office was half-empty; the computers sat in a pile, taken apart and beaten, from the looks of it. Of course they would have wiped the drives before doing this, but the image was symbolic for what was to come. This was the end. The president knew it. The FBI director knew it. Kendra had been hoping they were wrong, that the storms, the volcanoes, the tsunamis were only theoretical, but intuitively she’d always known it. The world was about to change. Looking outside, it was clear it had already begun, even without the disasters striking yet.

  There had been warning signs, and over the last decade so many disasters had struck around the planet. Had no one been able to put two and two together?

  Kendra moved toward her office, and saw her own desktop computer was missing. She didn’t need it. She wondered if her space had been ransacked, but remembered there was nothing in it to start with. No pictures, no personal items, nothing. She’d worked here five years, and there was no evidence she’d ever spent a day in that office.