by Logan Keys
FROZEN
DAWN
The Long Fall Series
Book 5
By
Logan Keys & Mike Kraus
© 2018 Muonic Press, Inc.
www.muonic.com
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www.logansfiction.com
www.MikeKrausBooks.com
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No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, or by any electronic, mechanical or other means, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Authors’ Notes May 26, 2018
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The Long Fall Book 6:
World Apart
Special Thanks
Many thanks to the awesome beta reading team, including Al, Caroline, Claudia, Glenda, James, Julie, Karen, Kelly, Laurel, Lynnette, Mark, Mayer, Robin, Sarah and Scarlett. You all rock. :)
Prologue
After the Fall
The new people had arrived, and everyone just wanted to know one thing: How did they get onto this side of the US? With the chasm gaped wide between the east and west coast, eating across the midlands (most had not even seen it let alone known how scary it was), it seemed impossible that they had traveled all the way from New York.
Brittany on the other hand, had been there at its birth. She’d seen the earth give way at ground zero and she had felt the might of the earthquake that shook the once united states loose from one another until the great divide had created a new country altogether. Though everyone was audience to the destruction as the weather cycled through its chaos, it had changed the citizens.
Bob was the quiet one. He had eyes full of darkness, maybe regret, and Brittany immediately felt as if she liked the older gentleman upon meeting him. She trusted him nearly on sight. And she’d wanted so badly to open up to someone, anyone, and leak out all the pain she’d been holding inside.
Even though Michelle mostly did the talking of the two, he’d answered this particular question about crossing the chasm himself. With the fresh memory flowing across his deeply lined, but handsome face, he’d told the story. The proof was stamped on his features so that though he was saying how they had crossed as if it were easy, it had been anything but. “Parts are flooded enough to cross,” he’d said with a blank expression. “It’s dangerous, but possible. Much of it is the ocean now, that is, when you go further south. The gulf is migrating north as we all run downward from the snow.”
Neither the group that Brittany was with, nor Brittany herself, had looked further east. She’d had no reason to…after. No reason to go on to New York. Everyone seemed to have gone as far south as they could, and then most had continued westward until they’d found a place to hide from mother nature.
Chuck’s idea had been to come to Arizona. And it’d seemed as wise as any other suggestion, so no one had argued. The desert should have been warm. It should have meant safety. Once they got past a certain point, they figured they’d have found an end to the cold. But they hadn’t. Everything was the same here now. Soundless white.
Chuck’s group had welcomed nothing but stragglers and passersby ever since. The dream was California for many who left quickly after arriving. Most everyone they’d met was headed there. Same as Bob and Michelle. If people could just make it to the west coast (or so they thought), then they’d find a spot still warm, maybe live in luxury with sand between their toes.
But Chuck knew better. As did Brittany. And he’d stopped traveling when it had gotten too dangerous to go on, saving most everyone who was with them in the process. He’d found them all a lodge off the beaten path in southern AZ, and it had had wildlife enough to live off of when their supplies began to dwindle. Javelina. Desert pigs. Those things were abundant and somehow living through the low temperatures in their caves. Life sustaining protein.
Chuck had saved her life after the accident, and now she just had to go on living it.
But these two people, Bob and Michelle, had come from the furthest place they’d yet to see. New York…everyone had questions. They’d traveled later than was sane, too. But somehow had made it. So now they were interesting. New. Had stories to tell. Only, they seemed reluctant to tell them and often shared sad glances about who’d they’d left behind…lost.
“Is it just you two?” Chuck had asked.
Michelle was the one to answer this time. “Yes.”
Chapter One
Wellington, New Zealand
Luckman’s eyes searched the shoreline. Back and forth, back and forth, his gaze went. But still, he couldn’t find the raging waves that were there only minutes before. He could not find the swell. It was gone. In its place lay a soggy bed of shoreline as far as he could see.
“It’s gone.” German was the one to say it out loud.
Greg was already scrambling around inside of his house like a mad man. He and his sisters were the only ones who seemed ready for the event of a tsunami and they were semi-coordinated in their running and grabbing of things. All to the tune of the alarms that still rang on and on in an eerie moan above the wind. It was the song of destruction set to come.
But Luckman had no “things.” And the only person he needed to warn about anything anymore was standing directly by his side, gaping same as he was gaping, at the missing ocean.
Greg and his sisters were finished and racing for the door. “You coming?” Danielle shouted at Luckman who finally started to move. He and German followed the family having no other choice.
They all filed outside in a cluster. German was last, and he’d picked Holtz up by the back of his shirt and hoisted him along too as they exited the house. Greg must have run track and field in his day, Luckman thought, because he was already in his truck out front, starting the engine as if he’d flown. With German’s help, Holtz and the women crammed inside while German jumped into the bed afterward.
Luckman, who’d been stuck again searching the shore once more, hesitated for a moment to decide where to sit, but then figured he’d rather die cold outside with German than warm inside with strangers.
He jumped into the bed of the truck just as the old Ford took off.
The ice wasn’t as bad yet on this part of the island, so the truck picked its way neatly through the other cars that were hastily parked in crazy arrangements with their owners rushing to and fro. The panic grew.
Luckman and German had a front row seat to the harbor as they drove alongside it. Which was now only puddles with fish flopping around on the sand. It should have made them terrified, but they both stayed glued to that side of the vehicle, necks craned.
“You ever seen anything like it?” German asked. His voice held a little thrill that made Luckman bite back a grin.
He couldn’t help it. He was terrified. It had be nerves that made him smile anyway. Luckman was tired of only ever being afraid. This was an incredible sight for a scientist, and besides, he’d made his peace with God abo
ut dying back in the water. Now, it was a bonus to have a belly full of good food when the Killing Cold showed up again. He wouldn’t be smiling then. But in this moment, they were zooming along and he was taking in the empty space where the ocean had been for probably millions of years.
The back window opened, and Danielle reached out to grip Luckman’s hand. “We can make it,” she promised. “We still have time.”
It was more a speech for her not him.
“Where are we going?” he asked, although he’d guessed.
“Airport. We can still get out of here.”
Luckman wasn’t as sure as she was, but he was glad for her positivity.
The Ford hit a curve sharply, and Luckman was thrown against the side. German too. They clung onto the metal as Greg picked up speed.
It felt like they had just started, when they pulled a switchback right into the airport. They were on the restricted side, a different entrance for private planes. Luckman could see Terry giving directions through the window.
“The wave isn’t even visible yet,” Luckman said, having to yell into the wind.
“Did you see how far pulled back it is?” German answered, eyes wild. “It’s going to be a while. But when it hits…whoa.”
“How long do you think?”
German shrugged. “Could be hours. Could be half a day. Depending on how fast the wave is moving. Later…Or…”
“Right now.”
Luckman pulled the window open again. “You guys hear anything on the radio?”
Greg spoke over his shoulder. “Yeah. We have time to fly out of here.”
Luckman nodded, adrenaline rushing through him. It’s like the Killing Cold would slam the door in his face, but then God would slide his foot in and crack it open just enough for him to inch through once more.
They had to show ID at a simple chain-link fence. This was no LAX. And as soon as Terry leaned over Greg and shoved her passes in the guard’s face, he grew flustered, and waved the truck onward. It was just the one man. Everyone else had already fled or was getting away from the shore. He was the only brave soul who’d remained to man the back entrance, and Luckman wondered, was it money? Or was he just that committed to his job as a guard at the airport? Because if that tsunami was as bad as Luckman guessed it would be, this whole side of the island was going to be underwater when it struck.
They pulled right up to the plane and parked. Luckman felt strange wandering around on the tarmac unchaperoned, but this was what it must be like for the ultra-rich and famous.
Terry and Greg jumped out of the truck and raced around like chickens with their heads cut off. “Where is he?” Greg shouted. “He should be here, right?” He sounded near tears he was so panicked.
“He never leaves the plane!” Terry shouted, but the evidence spoke for itself.
“Well, do you see anyone?” Greg rushed up the steps into the plane that was left open and sitting, ready to fly its owner at any minute, except, the owner was here, and the pilot apparently was not.
“We have to find another pilot!” Danielle shouted, and she grabbed Luckman’s hand again, and pulled him toward the airport. “Let’s go see if we can hire someone!” She revealed a giant wad of cash from inside her purse.
German ran behind them as they entered a service door to the airport. People were at the desks shouting and fighting, trying to get flights. “What’s going on?” German cornered a woman at the front desk.
“There are no flights. The weather,” she said, as if it were obvious. “Planes have crashed already. More unaccounted for than we know.”
A pilot was rushing by and Luckman latched onto his arm. “Where you going?”
“To take cover,” the guy said, shoving Luckman back. “You should too.”
“But you could fly out of here!”
“The weather’s not too bad right over us, but most everywhere else is too dangerous to land. Planes are hitting turbulence over the ocean hard enough to bring them down. Electrical storms. Plus, ice. Every place you try to go is nothing but ice!”
“A tsunami is better?” German scoffed.
“It is if we survive it. They don’t even know how bad it will be, but we do know that planes are dropping out of the sky right now.” He swallowed. “What do you want me to say?”
“Will they let us fly out of here?” Greg demanded, having approached mid-conversation.
“If you can find a pilot crazy enough to risk going down over the ocean or landing on icy runways, then sure.”
The man rushed away as Terry started to cry, hiding her face in Greg’s shoulder. “That’s it,” she mumbled. “We’re all going to die.”
“What? What is it?” Luckman was looking at German who had a strange twist to his mouth.
The big Russian shook his head and said, “I know of a pilot crazy enough.”
“You don’t mean…”
German huffed a laugh and nodded. “He was on the Polar Star. That’s the last I saw of him.”
“But he’s here?” Luckman couldn’t believe it.
“Who’s here?” Holtz had joined them, and his eyes had bruises beneath them. His cheek was swelled up so that one eye was almost completely shut.
Luckman ignored the scientist, facing German instead. “Where do you think?”
“Bar,” they both said simultaneously.
“Which place is closest to the harbor?” Luckman asked the sisters.
“The harbor…?” Danielle asked with alarm.
“Yes.” Luckman sighed. They would have to backtrack all the way to the harbor to look for the crazy Russian pilot, but what other choice did they have?
German lead the way, barging through people, pushing some out of the way with Luckman hot on his tail. They made it back outside of the airport and everyone got into the Ford for another mad dash back the direction they’d just come.
Greg was not as careful this time. The tires squealed as they fishtailed towards the harbor, and they got there in record time. German and Luckman were the first ones out. Together, they checked the shoreline again. German whistled. “Still receding.”
“That’s good. Right?”
“You’re the scientist.”
Luckman bit back a bitter reply over their earlier conversation about whether German was in fact a spy. If he was using information he got from Luckman. It mattered little now, what with the end of the world. But the sting of betrayal remained. He felt German could have told him the truth earlier. They were close enough to be honest, he’d thought.
“Bars!” German shouted, and they all scattered to check every pub within a mile radius.
It took about five stops before Luckman saw a familiar hunched figure inside a musky establishment, slouched on a stool over a drink with half a cheek on and the other perpetually sliding off. “You! Hey. Guy.” Luckman realized he didn’t have a name for the man. He’d just thought of him as that “crazy pilot”.
He approached the guy and patted his back, hoping that by some small miracle the pilot was not as drunk as he appeared to be. “We need your help.” Was all Luckman could come up with in the moment.
The guy turned to glance at him with an irate glare before returning to nursing his drink. Ice clinked in the glass and Luckman kept opening and closing his mouth to speak. “We need a pilot,” he said more forcefully. “Tsunami warning ring a bell?”
German came in, bringing bright light into the room when he opened the door. Several customers, who’d obviously planned to drink through their end, moaned about it.
German strode to Luckman’s side and started speaking rapidly in Russian. That turned into an argument where the pilot was obviously telling German, in not so many words, to kiss his rear-end. German quickly lost his temper and shouted back until the pilot clammed up and began focusing on his drink again. “This guy,” German said, lifting a hand like he wanted to choke the pilot. “He’s an idiot.”
“What did he say?”
German arched a brow. “He’s
not flying some piece of you know what filled with other pieces of you know whats.”
“I see. Not a big America fan, I take it.”
“No.”
Luckman gritted his teeth. “Translate for me then.”
“Lucky. I tried. Let’s find another…”
“Who?” Luckman demanded with hands held out to his sides.
German nodded, sighed. “Okay.”
Luckman sat next to the pilot. He thought about telling the guy how he could maybe stop this thing with a little bit of help. Or maybe about how he could at least get ahead of it enough to turn back the tides, warn people. Luckman could get the news out that people should at least move away from the cold parts of the countries they were in as best they could. He even thought about begging and pleading with the guy, but it was futile, Luckman knew. He took one look at that stone-cold, craggy face, and Luckman changed his tactic. “Is it the jet? You scared of a big plane versus the puny, old one you were flying in Antarctica? Is that it? Maybe you don’t know how to fly something as big and nice as the ones they have here at a real airport with real pilots.”
German tried not to smile as he translated the words.
Slowly, the pilot turned to face Luckman with anger blazing inside his black eyes. He spoke slowly, so that even if Luckman could not understand the words, he could understand the tone very well: Get bent.
“If you’re afraid…” Luckman offered.
German translated that, and the pilot shot up off his seat, pointing a finger in Luckman’s face.
Luckman shrugged. “Okay. Fine. You’re not our guy. No heroes here, I get it. We need someone with more experience. Someone with more courage.”
As German translated again, before he could finish the pilot was already paying his tab, cursing in Russian, and putting on his jacket.
German chuckled as the pilot spoke to Luckman, spitting each syllable like a curse. “He tells you to shove your—”
