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Everyday Apocalypse: Season Three

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by Pieter Lars




  Everyday Apocalypse

  Season Three

  Pieter Lars

  Contents

  New Books

  1. Werewolves: Part One

  2. Werewolves: Part Two

  3. Killer Bunnies

  4. Super-Villain Moon Ray

  5. Alien Invasion

  6. Seismic Activity

  7. Creepy Clowns

  8. Dinopocalypse

  9. Nuclear Wasteland

  10. Solar Flares

  Author’s Note

  About Me

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Pieter Lars

  Awesome Books

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the product’s of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental.

  EVERYDAY APOCALYPSE: Season Three

  Copyright © 2017 by Pieter Lars

  www.pieterlars.com

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.

  New Books

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  Hope you enjoy this book!

  -Pieter - March 2017

  For all the strangers who actually bought the first two!

  Thank you so much!

  1

  Werewolves: Part One

  Two weeks ago a black helicopter, stamped with the National Eschatological Agency logo, had landed in Phoenix. The NEA was the government agency tasked with alerting the public about any and all upcoming apocalypses. Each week they provided boxes of equipment and supplies, meant to help citizens cope with, battle, or simply survive each week’s apocalypse.

  Tom had applied for a job with the NEA and was selected for Field Training. Despite his and his girlfriend’s misgivings, he had accepted the position.

  The helicopter had whisked him away to an undisclosed location (which turned out to be a forest compound on the northern border of Washington State). It was winter and, luckily, Tom had packed long johns.

  The first week felt more like summer camp than anything else. That week’s apocalypse was a mild plague of boils, but it was only spread through skin-on-skin contact. Nobody in the NEA training camp had it, and they were already cut off from the outside world, so Tom and the other recruits spent their time getting to know each other.

  There were plenty of marshmallows and firewood. One of the recruits brought a ukelele so they spent every night around the bonfire, singing Jack Johnson songs.

  It was a really nice week, and Tom was starting to feel pretty good about his decision to join up.

  Then the NEA forecast had come in.

  Next week would bring Werewolves. The Pacific Northwest was the absolute worst place to be for Werewolf week.

  The trainers arrived on Saturday and Tom was dismayed to find that he recognized his. Jason Weathers was a fireman by trade, but Tom learned that he had been an NEA agent for the last three years, and would be serving as Tom’s squad leader for the field training course.

  Tom has no logical reason to dislike the guy. When Jason had saved him and Samantha from the demon lord, he had just been doing his job.

  The thing was, Tom was jealous. Jason made him feel inadequate. Jason had muscles, and perfect chin stubble, and shiny white teeth.

  Seeing the way Samantha gazed at Jason after the demon lord event, with a mixture of awe and starry-eyed hunger, had convinced Tom to leave his cushy (if boring) insurance job. He wanted Samantha to look at him that way, and had convinced himself that this meant he needed an NEA uniform of his own.

  Of course, he also hated his insurance job. Hated his inept boss, Mr. Phillips, and his sleazy co-worker, Grossman. So a change was certainly needed. But it was Jason the fireman who convinced Tom that he wanted to spend his career with the NEA.

  The day after the trainers arrived, Jason took Tom and the rest of his squad out to the field for a “light run.”

  By “light run” Jason apparently meant a grueling five miles up and down hills in the pouring rain.

  Tom had never run five miles in his life. He was pretty sure Jason lapped him on the track, twice, each time giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder and a “hang in there champ.”

  So condescending!

  At the end of the run Tom puked all over Jason’s shoes, so he got a bit of revenge.

  To his credit, Jason merely gave Tom another pat and said, “Get that out of your system, tiger. That’s failure leaving your body!”

  Tom tried his best to glare, but it was hard when you were bent over in pain and out of breath.

  That night Jason grilled steaks for the squad and passed out beers, then went around the circle asking everyone their life stories. The worst part was that he seemed genuinely interested. Depending on the story he would nod, frown, furrow his brow, smile excitedly, shake his head in anger, or give sympathetic sad eyes.

  Tom found himself having a good time, listening to his new compatriots talk about themselves.

  There was Gordon, who loved model trains and samurai movies and hoped to retire in Mexico with his husband.

  Melissa studied aikido and late-1980s rom-coms (Studied, as in academically. She had apparently written a dissertation on the ways in which the Brat Pack films addressed and, in some cases, refuted capitalism and traditional gender roles).

  Hector was a small business owner, had eight Maine Coon cats, and loved to paint.

  Felipe worked in signals intelligence, but found it too boring, so had applied for the NEA on a whim.

  When Tom’s turn came he found himself telling Jason all about his survivalist grandfather, his insurance job, his mother who, while well-meaning, probably didn’t hug him enough, and about his girlfriend who he loved so much but couldn’t shake the feeling that she was too good for him.

  After he was done Jason reached out and pulled him in for a hug. Not one of those two-pounds-on-the-back-bro hugs either. A real hug. Long enough for the dopamine to flood Tom’s brain.

  When Jason finally pulled away Tom found himself wiping tears from the corners of his eyes.

  “She’s lucky to have you, man,” Jason said, gripping Tom’s shoulder. “Just make sure you survive the next couple of weeks so you can get back to her, alright?”

  Tom nodded.

  Is this really going to be that dangerous? He hadn’t really thought about his NEA training in those terms. The “possibly fatal” terms…

  He was about to ask how many cadets had been killed, but before he could Jason stood for an announcement.

  “OK, everyone. You’re here now, and you’re excited and pumped up. That’s good. That’s great. We need to keep that level of enthusiasm. What they haven’t told you yet is only two squads get to advance to the next round. There’s five squads here, so you have a forty percent chance of passing. I know that’s sobering to some of you, but I’m telling you right now that I believe in you! If we work together, and stay positive, each and every one of you will pass.”

  Jason pulled out a handful of red bandannas and passed them out to each of them.

  “Tie those around your biceps.
We’re Squad One. Every squad has a different color. When the crap hits the fan we’ll be able to see who’s on our team and who’s not.”

  Jason grinned and looked them in the eyes, one by one, until they nodded. A surge of confidence flowed through them and they looked around at each other, grinning and giving thumbs-ups.

  Jason’s watch gave twelve tiny beeps.

  It was midnight.

  The clouds parted to reveal the full moon, glowing pale and bright.

  A mournful howl sounded from the forest.

  Felipe was the first to be taken. They were trying to cross a creek, jumping from rock to rock. The water was deep and running swiftly, swollen from the rain and snowmelt.

  Jason took point while Felipe brought up the rear. Tom had just about made it across when there was a splash behind him.

  Tom looked back to see Felipe, shoulder deep in the creek, struggling to climb back onto the mossy rock but it was too slippery. He gave up and turned to swim back to the opposite bank.

  “Wait!” Tom shouted. Something dark was moving through the trees behind them.

  “It’s OK!” Felipe shouted. “I’m going to start over! I’m not a very good swimmer!”

  He reached the shallows and scrambled back up the rocky bank. He knelt for a moment, catching his breath, then stood. Just as he turned to re-attempt the crossing the shadow emerged from the trees.

  It was a big bad wolf, wearing the tattered remains of an NEA instructor uniform. The wolf’s fur was black, with white streaks through its face and around its eyes. There was a green bandanna tied to its foreleg.

  Squad Five, Tom thought.

  Felipe shouted something in Spanish, then fell backward into the creek.

  The wolf pounced, and snatched Felipe’s ankle in its jaws, then began to drag him back to the trees.

  Tom just stood there, frozen in fear, until Felipe disappeared. Tom heard him scream, then cough, then growl.

  He scrambled across the rest of the rocks and rejoined the rest of his squad.

  They had no weapons, no way to defend themselves.

  It was only Wednesday. They had four more days of this. Four more days of running and hiding and sleeping in trees. Tom just figured it was all part of the challenge until he caught a glimpse of Jason’s face when the squad leader thought nobody was looking.

  He looked worried.

  “OK, squad,” Jason said, forcing a smile. “HQ tells me there’s a weapons cache somewhere over that rise. Who wants to lead the way?”

  Hector bravely volunteered and they followed him up the hillside, winding their way between pine trees as tall as skyscrapers and as big around as grain silos. This was truly a primordial forest.

  Tom remembered watching some sparkly vampire movie with Samantha. Didn’t it take place in the Pacific Northwest? Weren’t there werewolves, or shapeshifters or something in it too?

  Maybe the vampires were out this week as well. Tom remembered the last Vampire week. They certainly hadn’t been sparkly - more leathery and grotesque - but he imaged they would do pretty well against werewolves.

  What did it feel like to be transformed into a werewolf? Tom didn’t think the werewolves ate people. The one that took Felipe was wearing an NEA uniform. So he must have been bitten, and then transformed, right?

  Unless he was one of the first werewolves. Maybe the first werewolves were the ones that ate you, instead of just infecting you.

  Was it an infection? Viral or something? How did you contract the werewolf curse? He couldn’t remember. The NEA probably had a pamphlet on it or something, but he was stuck out here in this stupid forest which was the perfect place for werewolves to hunt. So he had no supplies, no way to fight the werewolves off, and no way to know if they would eat him, or if he would just spend the rest of the week covered in fur.

  Why the heck had he even applied for the NEA? He didn’t like hiking, didn’t like camping or marching or saluting or fearing for his life. Even his own squad leader looked lost and afraid. Maybe everyone working for the NEA was just as clueless as the rest of the world. They were just really good at using Wikipedia and coming up with clever ideas for survival equipment.It didn’t take a genius to figure out that you would need flame-retardant clothing during dragon week, or padded suits during zombie week, or holy water during hell spawn week.

  His reverie was broken by the sound of snapping branches and rustling leaves.

  A low growl sounded from above him.

  Something heavy and furry dropped onto Hector. He yelled. An auburn-colored werewolf had jumped out of a tree. It was wearing the yellow bandana of Squad Two. Hector pushed it away and started to run, but the werewolf was fast. It nipped at the back of Hector’s ankle and he stumbled to the ground.

  Gordon screamed. Another werewolf rushed out of the trees to their left and bowled him over. Tom turned to see Gordon staring back at him, wide-eyed, his forearm caught in a grey werewolf’s jaws.

  “Run!” Jason shouted. He took off toward the crest of the hill. Tom and Melissa ran after him.

  2

  Werewolves: Part Two

  Instead of a supply cache they found a recreation room. It wasn’t part of the NEA training complex, but instead seemed to be a backwoods summer camp, closed for the winter. The sign above the door read, Camp Anawanna Activity Center. The logo showed a teepee surrounded by smiling stick-figure children. The caption below read, We Hold You In Our Hearts.

  Melissa, Tom, and Jason had barricaded the doors and spent a relatively quiet night locked inside. Either the werewolves didn’t know they were in there, or they were busy chasing down easier prey.

  The rec room had a bathroom, a kitchen full of dry goods, two pool tables, a ping-pong table, plastic bins full of sports equipment, fishing and climbing gear, and what appeared to be theater props and costumes. Either that or there was some other use for rubber chickens that Tom wasn’t aware of.

  Tom thought they could probably just ride the rest of the week out in there, until Jason finally explained the rules.

  “We’re already down three squadmates and it’s only been four days. The winning squads are the two that still have live members on saturday morning when we do our debrief.”

  “Live members? Like, not dead?” Melissa asked.

  Tom thought it was a pretty good question.

  “Not necessarily. In a week like this, it just means still human. I’m sure all those werewolves will turn back next week, but the NEA can’t train lycanthropes so they’re pretty much disqualified unless someone else from their squad can keep from getting bitten.”

  “How do you know all this?” Tom asked.

  “Those are the rules H.Q. decided on when the forecast showed a werewolf curse this week. Trust me, this is way better than some of the other field classes. I was instructor for the alien abduction week, and we had to scrap the whole thing halfway. There weren’t enough people left after Wednesday, and none of them showed up again the next week. I still don’t know what happened to them.”

  Jason shook his head sadly. Tom almost told him about Tobias, just to reassure Jason that those missing people probably just reappeared somewhere else at the end of the week. But Jason wasn’t done…

  “My own class was during the mega flood week. The whole West Coast was pretty much submerged and my squad spent four days floating on a life raft with cheese crackers and grape soda. It was terrible. That’s the whole reason I asked to be stationed in Arizona.”

  He took a deep breath, then continued. “Anyway. If all three of us stay locked up in here we’re sitting ducks. There’s no way to tell how many squads are still standing out there. Sooner or later the werewolves are going to come for us and I don’t trust these flimsy walls to hold them at bay. We need to come up with a plan. You two with me?”

  Melissa looked at Tom, then back at Jason. “I’m with you,” she said.

  Tom wasn’t sure. A part of him just wanted to get bit. Get it over with. Spend the rest of the week howling at th
e moon and then he could go home. He hadn’t done anything to help Felipe, or Hector and Gordon. He’d just run away.

  Maybe he wasn’t NEA material. He could just go back home to Samantha and try to find a different office job. Maybe data entry. That way he wouldn’t have to worry about commissions.

  But Jason was looking at him with a smile. “You got this man. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t NEA material.”

  Tom wanted to say. That’s not true. I lied in that personal essay. My ideal day is eating ramen and watching monster movies. Not running through the woods trying to avoid getting eaten.

  But Jason’s confidence was contagious, so he nodded and said, “I’m with you too.”

  Melissa let out a little whoop of delight, and pumped her fist. “Let’s put those mutts in their place!”

  Tom laughed, despite his nerves. “You and my girlfriend would totally be friends.”

  “OK,” Jason said. “Let’s see what’s in here. There’s gotta be something we can use as a weapon.”

  “You sure about this?” Jason asked.

  There was a scrape of claws against the door, followed by an angry growl.

  Melissa tightened the bandana around her forehead, then gave a grim nod. “Yeah. I’m sure. I used to play tennis in high school. Besides, we only need to survive until morning, right? If we distract them long enough we can probably find another place to hide.”

  She lifted the racquet and spun it in her hand. Her pockets were bulging with tennis balls. Every last one they could find. Nevermind that they were all flat and worn, their color faded.

  Nobody had any better ideas.

  “On the count of three,” Jason said. “One…”

  Tom gripped the doorknob, and stretched his neck from side to side. His heart was beating like a jackrabbit. Melissa adjusted her footing, making sure her left toe was pointed toward the door. She bounced the ball off the floor a couple times.

 

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