Dawn of Destruction

by Ronald Williams

  He had replacement parts stored and labeled in the basement, and we had built the solar panels as another backup, battery powered and ready to implement once the fuel ran out. The cabin was a fortress and a life sustainer. Steve wouldn’t give it up easily.

  Our family dinner didn’t have the normal dinnertime feel to it. The metal shutters were bolted behind the windows.

  Our guns were racked in various spots by the entrance, windows, and near the basement door.

  We knew the time was coming to fight, but the false normalcy was comforting for now.

  I finished early and joined Matthew with his dinner at the tunnel entrance, extricating myself from Kate and leaving her in Norm’s capable hands.

  Matthew sat on a chair near the entrance. His curls askew and his olive skin paler in the artificial lamp light.

  “Sooo. . . Besides the end of the world and impending doom reigning down soon, how are you feeling?” I handed him his plate, unfolded a camping chair and placed it next to him.

  A sigh escaped me as I breathed in the momentary peace.

  “Seems like you are holding up well. I’m glad your safe, Holly. That’s the most important thing. Why weren’t you at the cabin? Why were you out in the woods?” He tilted his head quizzically.

  I bit my lip. “I came for you. I know you didn’t want me to, but I don’t know if I could have lived with myself if something happened. Remember that night we first set out for the cabin, before they found us?” I asked.

  Matthew nodded, his eyes curious.

  “Even after losing Liza, being with you was special. It’s the first time I had dared to hope. I had his feeling that everything would be okay. We would make it to the cabin, and a new life would begin. I know it was an an overly hopeful daydream. I still have to keep my promise to myself, though. I have to tell you that I love you, Matthew.”

  I took a breath.

  My face was turned towards him, but my eyes searched the ground, the walls, my hands. I looked everywhere but into his eyes.

  I finally settled on letting my hair cloak my face as I stared at my fidgeting hands.

  “Matthew, we’ve danced this dance, one around the other, back and forth. Both of us get so close to saying what we feel and then drop back. I feel like time is not on our side now, though. I have to put it all out there and just let go. We don’t know if we will survive tomorrow much less the next hour. I love you, and that’s why I came looking for you. I had to tell you before I ran out of chances.”

  My hands stopped trembling, and I swept my hair back in a quick motion, swallowing hard as my eyes met his and tried to read his thoughts.

  “You’re right. We’ve danced around this for years . . . I thought I would have more time to figure out how you really felt, more time to flesh out the details and plan. It’s true, though, Holly. I’ve known it for a long time. I’m in love with you, and there isn’t enough time now to really tell you or show you the way I really want to. All I can say is that I love you, and I will continue to try to protect you, no matter what happens.”

  Matthew’s eyes glistened with tears. His voice was soft and thick, comforting me, as he pulled me closer to him. I lay my head on his shoulder. He gently kissed my forehead. My lips turned to meet his, and for a moment, we were locked in time, a cocoon of warmth and sweet release.

  Knock. Knock. Knock. Three knocks interrupted us. Three knocks and then a slow scratching sound. Norm and Gordon’s signal.

  I climbed up the ladder, slowly forcing the wheel to turn until I heard the click of the lock opening. I lifted the cover, pushing it up and back on the side hinges. It stood open, and Gordon smiled down at me.

  “I set some traps. They shouldn’t be getting to us anytime . . .” His voice broke off with a sudden gasp.

  I couldn’t see past Gordon’s thick frame, but I knew something was wrong. His breath had turned wheezy. A low whistle in his chest breathed out long and loud, and he collapsed headfirst into the opening.

  “Matthew!!! Hurry!” I screamed. “Gordon’s hurt! I can’t close the hatch, he’s stuck in the hole. I’m pulling him down so I can lock it!”

  Matthew rushed over, still weak. He stood below me, as I quickly pulled Gordon into the tunnel.

  His breathing was ragged and broken. Matthew lowered him down to the floor the best he could. I reached up to try to secure the hatch, ducking my head and stretching my hand out, hoping they weren’t close.

  A shadow covered the entrance, and a hand shot out, grabbing my wrist, twisting hard, and pulling me upwards. I cried out just in time for Matthew to grab my ankle and yank me back.

  I landed on top of Matthew. We both lay sprawled across the concrete. I sprang up, grabbing my pistol and aiming it at the hatch.

  I heard Steve’s gruff voice from just outside the entrance.

  “It won’t be long now, Holly,” he warned. “We are coming to get you, and we will have the cabin.”

  I shot at the hole, my bullet hitting nothing but night sky.

  “Tsk. Tsk. Holly, you should know better than to waste your bullets. I’m not leaving the entrance, and you can’t stay there all night. It’s time to make a decision.”

  I looked over at Matthew. He pointed in the direction of the cellar door. We both grabbed Gordon.

  I had one hand underneath his arm and one hand still holding my gun steady towards the hatch.

  Matthew and I pulled Gordon through the door to the cellar, yelling upstairs for Norm.

  “Norm, we need you! The tunnel entrance is open. They’ll be coming down into the tunnel soon!”

  Running footsteps sounded from above. Norm catapulted down the stairs, Kate in one arm and the young girl close behind him.

  Gordon was lying in the corner, his back facing us, too still and quiet. A knife wound on his back, bloody and raw.

  Norm rushed forward putting Kate down on the cellar floor and trying to secure the cellar door.

  He and Matthew grabbed the handles and pulled, but it was too late. Steve and his men started shooting at the door.

  Matthew and Norm jumped back against the wall, taking cover. Norm went to draw his gun from his belt, but realized too late, it wasn’t there.

  From the other side of the room, near the door to the basement, a bullet rang out.

  Wait. That’s the wrong side. Who’s firing on our side? I looked over to see the little girl, the sister, with a gun in her hand. She lowered it, and aimed it at my chest.

  “It’s okay, Steve. I’ve got her. Everyone drop your guns, or I will shoot Holly.”

  She looked at me with hatred and anger in her eyes.

  Steve and his men emerged. Each one training their guns on one of us. Steve strode forward.

  “Good job, Wendy. Now, it’s time to make your choice. Do you want to kill her? This is a crossroads for you. This decision will define your life.”

  He stepped away from Wendy and gestured towards me with his hand.

  “You said you would take me instead,” Matthew yelled, desperately.

  “No, Matthew,” Wendy trained her eyes on me, not turning away as she spoke. “You ran away. You didn’t keep your end of the deal. She is the reason my sister Sarah is dead. She is the only reason. She could have stepped out to save Liza and my sister. She chose to save herself. Steve and I tricked you. You led us right to them.”

  I was crouched in the corner with Gordon to my left and Kate hiding behind me, her whole body shaking uncontrollably, soft whimpers escaping her. Gordon’s breaths were shallow and ragged, but he had woken up with all the commotion and pushed himself to sitting against the wall.

  “Wendy, Wendy is that you?” his feeble voice ricocheted around the cellar.

  Wendy looked over at Gordon. Her eyes met his with recognition.

  “Grandpa? Grandpa! They killed Sarah. Holly could have come out when he warned her. She could have saved her,” she cried as tears sprang up in her eyes.

  Her eyes focused harder on Gordon, and I saw the truth wash o
ver her as soon as her eyes traveled to the blood trickling from his mouth.

  “You’re hurt. Did they hurt you?” She stared hard at me.

  “No, sweetheart. Holly didn’t hurt me. I’ve known her since she was a little girl like you. Wendy, she would never hurt anyone on purpose. Your mixed up, sweetie. That man,” he raised his arm and pointed at Steve.

  “That man, he’s the one who hurt me, Wendy. Sometimes, things happen on accident, like with Holly and Sarah, and sometimes, things happen on purpose. He hurt me on purpose. Is that who you really want to trust?” His strength was failing, and his body shivered. He collapsed into unconsciousness.

  Wendy’s hand wavered. I saw her look at Steve, confused. Matthew stood on the opposite wall, the man nearest him was caught up in the conversation, distracted. Norm sat on the ground, his knees pulled tight against his chest. He looked feeble and scared, but I knew he was pulling his gun from his ankle holster. He eyed the two men nearest him. They would underestimate him. They were young, cocky, full of pride. I turned back to look at Wendy just as I saw the flash of a muzzle and heard the blast of the gun going off.

  TO BE CONTINUED…

  One Man’s Revenge

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 1

  It began with a silent flash at the window, followed by absolute darkness that dropped over the house like a heavy blanket. Sam Porter looked up from his dark computer screen, blinking. A moment later, the gray PC tower at his knee erupted in a violent shower of sparks, sending Sam wheeling in alarm back across the floor on his office chair.

  He quickly stamped out a few smoldering embers on the carpet, trotted to the closet, and felt inside for the small red fire extinguisher he knew was on the top shelf.

  “Linda?” he shouted over his shoulder. He pulled the pin and doused the smoldering PC tower in a powdery cloud of CO2, hoping his aim was true in the darkness. The acrid smell of fried electronics filled the small office.

  “Linda, you okay?” he called again.

  “I'm fine,” a female voice drifted to him from downstairs. “What happened?”

  A boy's voice echoed Linda's question: “What happened, daddy?”

  Sam walked over to the pale silver rectangle of the window, working his way easily around the desk by memory, and lifted a curtain. The whole neighborhood was dark. Somewhere, a dog barked. A tiny, ugly voice drifted up inside Sam. This is it. Sam pushed the voice back down. He didn't know anything yet.

  “Don't try to walk around,” Sam shouted to his wife and son. “I'll be right down.” He opened his desk drawer and rattled through the contents until he found a small metal flashlight behind a box of staples. He clicked the rubber button on the back, then grimaced when the flashlight remained dark.

  This is it, repeated the voice in his head. It seemed to ride on the sharp, bitter smoke from the computer.

  Sam ignored the voice and walked down the upstairs hallway to his and Linda's bedroom, running a hand along the cool wall for guidance. In the bedroom, he crossed to the far wall. Seen in daylight, this wall looked as normal as any other. A low vanity with a slope-topped mirror and a wide bookshelf filled with dog-eared paperbacks and a few hardcovers were the only pieces of furniture against the wall. Beside the bookshelf, an overflowing laundry basket also pressed against the wall.

  Sam slid the laundry basket away and then reached into the gap behind the bookshelf, feeling for a small metal latch. He released it with a click, and the bookshelf swung away from the wall like a fat, heavy door. Sam smiled in spite of himself. The well-oiled hinges didn't so much as groan with the weight of the bookshelf. Sure, at least half of the books were hollow props, but the shelf itself still weighed over a hundred pounds.

  The wall behind where the bookshelf had stood was smooth and featureless, but again, in daylight, an astute observer would have noticed a hairline crack running straight up the wall. Sam pressed his palm to that crack, and a panel of the wall itself swung out, just like the bookshelf had done.

  Linda always called Sam a kid at heart, and he let himself believe it for a moment as the hidden compartment swung open. It really was a child's dream – a secret room hidden by a faux bookshelf. Linda would have said that Agatha Christie wanted her plot device back.

  It was a simple, yet effective setup. Originally, the space behind the wall had been a regular closet. With Linda protesting the whole way, he'd drywalled over the closet and installed a small hinged door that opened with a mechanical pressure release. It was the same thing used in some kitchen cabinets, and in fact that was where he'd gotten the idea – their own kitchen cabinets used the same mechanism.

  Stacked in darkness inside the closet was a large stash of bug-out supplies, acquired piece by piece over the past several years. Cans and boxes of food, glass carbouys filled with distilled water, candles, electric and propane lanterns, two handguns, and three black duffel bags packed with a week's worth of supplies each for him, Linda, and Jeremy.

  So he was a prepper – so what? Twelve years on the force had taught him that there was no such thing as “too prepared.” He'd had a partner get shot during a routine investigation at a sweet old lady's house. He'd let his guard down, that was all there was to it. They both had. Sam had sworn then that he'd never let that happen again.

  Sam walked into the living room downstairs a few minutes later with three lanterns and three small green propane cylinders. In the bedroom, he'd loaded a magazine into one of the nine-millimeter handguns, then hesitated and placed it back in the closet. No need to alarm Linda or Jeremy, he'd thought. Not yet.

  It turned out to be a good idea. Jeremy was frantic. He was hugging Linda's waist tightly. Linda looked worried as well. The sight of a gun would have probably sent the boy into hysterics.

  “Power's out on the whole block,” Linda said rapidly as Sam walked in. “And none of the flashlights are working. One of the breakers must have failed and sent a power surge through the kitchen. The microwave popped and smoked and made all kinds of racket.” She threaded a propane tank into one of the lanterns as she talked. Jeremy kept his death grip on her waist. Sam could tell by her rapid-fire patter that she was nervous. She didn't break down the way some people might when a crisis loomed – she went into overdrive.

  The lantern Sam was working on flared to life with a hiss of gas, followed by Linda's. Her brown hair took on a fiery bronze hue in the yellow gaslight, her sharp features outlined beautifully.

  “Did anything catch fire?” Sam asked. Linda shook her head. He set his lantern down on the living room table and bent down and pulled Jeremy into his arms. “You alright, buddy?” he asked. The boy nodded into his chest. “It's just a power outage, nothing to be afraid of,” Sam reassured him.

  “I know,” Jeremy said, his voice muffled in Sam's shirt. “That's what mommy said. But I'm still scared. I don't like the dark.”

  “I know, bud. I don't like it either. Here, tell you what” Sam held his son at arm's length and looked at him importantly. “Now that you're four years old...”

  “Five!” Jeremy protested, letting a small smile work at the corner of his mouth.

  “Five? Already?” Sam acted shocked. “Well then, now that you're five years old, I'm putting you in charge of this lantern. Now everywhere you go, you can carry the light with you. You can keep that bad darkness away.”

  “Will you stay with me, too?” Jeremy asked hopefully.

  “Forever, buddy.” Sam stood and exchanged a glance with Linda. She knew there was more to the power outage, and she'd been smart not to say it in front of the boy. Sam put his hands on her shoulders.

  “You doin’ okay?” he asked softly. Her eyes betrayed her worry, but she set her lips firmly.

  “I'm fine,” she nodded.
<
br />   It took them twenty minutes to check the locks on all the doors and windows and make sure none of the other appliances had thrown out sparks or started any fires, and by the end of it they were laughing and joking. As long as everybody stayed calm, Sam thought, they'd be fine.

  Satisfied that the house was safe, Linda announced that it was bedtime. Jeremy protested as usual, and Linda pacified him by letting him keep the lantern burning low in his room all night, on the condition that it stayed across the room and he promised not to touch it.

  “Can you tell me a bedtime story?” Jeremy asked as Sam pulled the covers up over him.

  Sam ruffled the boy's sandy hair. “Only if you promise not to interrupt.”

  “I won't! I promise, daddy.”

  “Well...” Sam looked up at the doorway and saw Linda standing there, framed in gold by the flickering lantern in her hand. She gave him a smile, and Sam turned back to Jeremy. “...okay, I guess there's time for a short story. Once upon a time, there were three bears who lived in a house...”

  “Oh, I know this one!” Jeremy shot up in excitement. “It's the one where Giddylocks breaks in and eats all their food, and sleeps in their beds, and—”

  “What did I say about interrupting?” Sam said.

  The boy's eyes went wide. He plopped down on his pillow and pursed his lips, then mimed turning a key to lock them tight.

  “I'll hold onto that,” Sam took the imaginary key from Jeremy's hand and pretended to put it in his pocket. “Okay, where was I?”

  “Nnce mpon a tmmm,” Jeremy said without opening his lips.

  Sam smiled. “Once upon a time, there were three bears who lived in a house in the woods...”

  By the time Goldilocks found baby bear's tiny bed juuuust right, Jeremy was fast asleep and snorning softly. Sam got up and eased the bedroom door shut, and stepped into the living room to find Linda reading a paperback on the sofa. She heard him approach and looked up. Her blue eyes twinkled.

  “Aww, was that the end? I was waiting for big papa bear to kick Goldilocks out of the house and suggest that mama bear share his bed that night.”