The Zero Trilogy (Book 3): End of Day

by Summer Lane

  End of Day

  The Zero Trilogy

  Book #3

  A Short Collapse Series Companion Adventure

  Summer Lane

  Copyright 2015

  Summer Lane

  All Rights Reserved

  WB Publishing

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except to quote in reviews or interviews, without the express permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Any parallel to persons alive or dead is purely coincidental and is not intended by the author.

  Praise for The Zero Trilogy

  “Summer is fantastic with writing action, character interaction, and intensity when it comes to scenes. Constantly your heart will be pounding wondering what will happen next.”

  - Ruth Silver, Bestselling Author of Aberrant

  “I loved this book! It’s a companion piece to Summer Lane’s Collapse series, but works equally well as a stand-alone.”

  - Tom Lewis, Bestselling Author of Aftermath

  “Day Zero gives yet another exciting perspective to the post-apocalyptic saga of the Collapse.”

  - Andrew D. Carlson, Author of Sue’s Fingerprint

  “Summer does a great job of developing her new set of characters. You may love them, you may hate them, but they leap off of the paper and are real once you read about them.”

  - G. Allen Mercer, Bestselling Author of Worst Case Scenario

  “The book is non-stop action from start to finish, and even though the world is a mess, and a very dark and dismal place, there are glimmers of hope along the way that kept me from feeling overwhelmed.”

  - Shannon, from It Starts at Midnight

  “[Summer Lane’s] character dialogue is realistic; and her style is clean, crisp, and doesn't cause any head scratching moments for the sake of literary experimentation. Summer Lane is an author I expect great things from.”

  - Jordan Page, Author of The Wormwood Series

  For Grandma Nancy, who for 40 years has worked to make others’ lives just a little brighter.

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Prologue

  “Whoa,” the girl said. “Hold up.”

  She stopped and crouched, the cool breeze ruffling her black hair. A red scar sliced down her cheek. The night was dark. The silence of the lower foothills was stifling. All around her, there were fields of grass and abandoned cattle pastures. The mountains rose up in the distance, huge, impressive peaks against the infinite sky.

  A dog followed the girl. He stopped when she stopped. She held her hand up and made a patting motion, bringing her palm down. The dog crouched, too. They sat quietly in the tall grass at the bottom of a small foothill. About two hundred yards away, an empty stretch of Highway 180 wound into the hills. It was lonely and desolate.

  But that was not what the girl was watching.

  She slowly turned around. She searched the ridgeline of the foothill, looking for any sign of movement. She had been sure something was following them. The dog could sense it, too.

  The scent is there, the dog said. But it keeps disappearing.

  The girl frowned. This was bad.

  “Man or animal?” the girl asked.

  The dog sniffed the air.

  Human.

  She had begun to notice a tingling sensation on the back of her neck. It was not just superstition or worry. She had sensed the presence of another living creature. It had been just her and the dog for a couple of days now, and it was easy for her to pinpoint an intrusion.

  Something was following them.

  Somebody.

  “We’ll keep moving,” the girl said.

  The dog growled deep in his throat.

  I don’t like this.

  “Neither do I.”

  They had to keep going. Time was running out.

  The girl stood and moved through the tall grass, staying in the shadows. The dog walked beside her, stoic and vigilant, occasionally pausing to sniff the air. The girl’s feet were sore. A lightweight sword was strapped across her back. Her clothing was dark. The dog was a German Shepherd, tall and strong, his coat a swirl of caramel and dark tones.

  The two companions were barely more than whispers in the darkness, moving with all the silence and stealth of the wind.

  “We’re close,” the girl whispered. “Maybe two miles.”

  It’s about time. The dog moved ahead of her. I’m hungry.

  “I know. Me too.”

  They had been living on meager rations for the last couple of days. The dog craved large portions of protein – his instinct to hunt for meat was overwhelmingly strong. But they were close to arriving at their destination. They just had to hang on.

  They walked for another mile.

  “There it is again,” the girl whispered. She whirled around, searching for movement. Again, there was nothing. She shook herself. “Am I imagining it? Are we both getting delusional?”

  The dog huffed.

  My nose never lies.

  The dog rumbled a predatory growl. The girl’s hand flew to the sword on her back. She whipped it from the sheath and held it en garde.

  There was a line of bushes and trees before them. The foliage was clustered around a creek bed. Several figures emerged from the shadows, tall and ominous in the darkness. The dog barked low, a warning.

  The girl scanned the figures and made an assessment.

  Four men and three women. Uniforms. Guns. Aggressive.

  The girl held the sword tightly. The dog maintained his defensive stance beside her.

  “Put your weapon down and tell your dog to relax.” It was a man’s voice. He was standing in the center of the lineup of enemies. “We’re not going to hurt you.”

  The girl didn’t move.

  “You expect me to believe that?” she demanded.

  These people could be anything. Slavers, bandits, robbers…

  “We’ve been sent from Bear Mountain Military Camp to retrieve you,” the man went on. He lowered his gun. “Sector Twenty-Seven told us you were coming.”

  The girl loosened her grip on the sword, swallowing.

  “Prove it,” she said.

  “Your name is Elle Costas,” he went on in his gravelly voice. “That’s your bomb dog Bravo, formerly the partner to Lieutenant Nathan Ingalls, Marine.”

  “Why would they send you?” she asked, hesitating.

  “Because we’re the good guys,” the man replied. “We don’t hurt good people. We help them.”

  The girl slowly lowered the sword.

  “I’m Lieutenant Felix,” the man went on. As the moon crested above the ridgeline, his face became visible. He was young, fair-haired, blue-eyed, and handsome.

  “You’ve been waiting for me,” the girl stated.

  “Yes. We knew you’d be here soon. We’ve been searching for you, actually.” He paused. “We wanted to make sure you made it alive.”

  “We can take care of ourselves.” She glanced at the dog. “We’re here for a reason, Lieutenant.”

  “Yes, you’re here to find your uncle.” Felix waved his hand, and the rest of the men and women in his group lowered their weapons. “We can help you with that.”

  The girl and the dog exchanged a glance.

  “If you’re lyi
ng,” the girl warned, “we’ll kill you.”

  Felix smiled.

  He replied, “I would expect nothing less.”

  Chapter One

  Trusting Lieutenant Felix was not something Elle Costas wanted to do. She and Bravo followed the group of militiamen and women through the grass, to a cluster of vehicles on the road. She hesitated, but only for a moment.

  The alternative was to turn and run – and what good would that do?

  Elle swallowed a lump in her throat and she and Bravo climbed into the back seat of a pickup truck. It smelled of sweat and gunpowder, a familiar combination of scents to Elle.

  The confines of the pickup were stifling. She kept her arm around Bravo, feeling his heartbeat quicken as the doors shut. Felix got into the driver’s seat and the pickup rolled forward with the rest of the small convoy. The scenery whirled by in a blur of speed – so different from spending days upon days walking from place to place.

  Elle stared at the ground.

  They drove for what seemed like an eternity before they came to the encampment. Elle looked up. It was small, nestled against the base of a large hill. A barbed-wire fence surrounded the camp. There were two watchtowers. Retrofitted vehicles. Armed soldiers. But mostly Elle saw civilians – children, teenagers, mothers and fathers.

  They rolled through the front checkpoint and stopped just inside the gates. Elle threw the back door open and jumped out of the pickup, eager to get out of the close quarters.

  The air was cold and fresh.

  “Elle,” Felix said. He gestured to a large building. “Come with me.”

  “Here goes nothing,” Elle whispered.

  Be calm, Bravo seemed to say. It’s okay.

  They followed Felix up the steps, into an office. People were working at the desks. Militia members stopped to stare at Elle and Bravo as they threaded their way through the makeshift work area. Felix held the door to an office open.

  “Go ahead,” he said, smiling slightly.

  Elle walked inside. The office had thick, plaster walls on every side. One window overlooked the camp. Maps were pinned to the rest of the walls.

  “This is the Secure Room,” Felix said. “I just wanted to have a quick talk with you about your stay at Bear Mountain.”

  “I’m not staying,” Elle replied, quickly. “I’m just here to find my uncle.”

  “Manny Costas,” Felix said.

  “Yes. You know him?”

  “I do. But he’s not here. Manny has never been to Bear Mountain before.”

  Elle felt like the air had been knocked out of her lungs.

  “Are you sure?” she pressed. “He’s a pilot – he’s got gray hair, a long leather jacket-”

  “Positive,” Felix interrupted. “I’m sorry.”

  Elle licked her lips.

  Oddly enough, she wasn’t sad. Just numbly disappointed.

  Another day, another dead end.

  “I’ll be on my way, then,” she said flatly.

  “Miss Costas,” Felix replied. “Don’t do that. Stay here. At least for a while. Bear Mountain is safe. Helping people like you is what we do – we’ve got food, water. Medicine. At least rest for the night.”

  Elle studied his face. Weathered skin, bright eyes. He seemed honest enough.

  She said, “Where can I sleep?”

  “The Civilian Ward,” Felix replied. “On the edge of camp. There’s always an empty bed there. You can take your dog – as long as he’s not aggressive around people. There are a lot of children here.”

  “Bravo can be trusted.”

  “Good. Very good.”

  Elle nodded.

  “Thanks,” she muttered.

  “And Elle?” Felix said.

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re welcome here.”

  Elle blinked.

  “Okay,” she answered, unsure of how to reply. She left the Secure Room with Bravo, slipping outside. The camp was noisy. It wasn’t a scary place – it was a place full of survivors and fighters, and Elle liked it. She wasn’t afraid – but she didn’t trust Felix. Not yet.

  She wandered through the camps, between barracks and a Chow Hall. She found the Civilian Ward, but she didn’t go inside. She walked aimlessly through the camp for a long time.

  Every few minutes, she looked over her shoulder, getting the feeling that she was being watched. There was never anyone in sight, but that didn’t mean her instincts were wrong.

  “What do you think, Bravo?” she whispered.

  Bravo looked up at her.

  It could be a new home.

  Elle shook her head.

  She didn’t think she was ready for that yet.

  Hours passed. Elle didn’t want to go into the Civilian Ward. There were too many people, too much noise. But she was getting tired, and she needed to sleep. The Civilian Ward was the only option. She had eaten a brief meal in a noisy Chow Hall, surrounded by screaming infants and talkative survivors, huddled against the back wall, consuming a bowl with stew – one for her, and one for Bravo.

  And now she was outside again, thankful for the space.

  She stood against the side of a barrack, overlooking the camp. She had been watching the activity of the militiamen for hours, listening to their conversations, eavesdropping on the dialogue of civilian survivors.

  There was no hint of an untrustworthy undercurrent. No clue of Omega infiltration. Bear Mountain, by all accounts, seemed to be a legitimate refugee camp.

  Elle placed her hand on top of Bravo’s head, ready to surrender to exhaustion and head to the Civilian Ward at last. But the feeling of being watched was strong again, and she looked up, toward the fence.

  She saw him.

  He was an Asian boy, several years older than Elle. He stood tall and lean, glossy black hair pulled into a ponytail. He wore all black. His skin was smooth and tanned, his clear, gray eyes a beautiful almond shape. But what struck Elle the most was the sword strapped across his back. It was a Japanese katana – just like hers.

  The boy looked dangerous, like a ninja, standing there in black, his arms folded across his chest. His gaze flickered to Elle’s and she looked away, disturbed. He seemed familiar somehow. Logically, she knew she had never met this boy before. But somewhere deep inside her, a seed of fear took root.

  She sat down on the front steps of the barracks. The concrete was cold. The camp was buzzing with activity. Bravo sat beside her, his tongue lolling. He seemed incredibly relaxed here. The active military environment was not new to him. He, like Elle, felt almost…safe.

  Elle brought her gaze up to the boy again, but he had vanished. She shook herself. It had been a long journey to the Bear Mountain Military Base, and the disappointment of failing to find her uncle here had taken its toll. She needed to rest before she decided what she was going to do next. Before she decided whether or not she and Bravo were going to stay here and assimilate into the militia environment.

  “I’m a survivor, not a fighter,” Elle murmured, stroking Bravo’s fur. His body was warm. “I don’t want to be a soldier. I just want to stay alive.”

  Bravo barked.

  Human.

  The hair on the back of Elle’s neck stood up.

  She sprang to her feet and whirled around. The boy with the dark hair was standing right behind her, a crooked, interested smile on his face.

  “What do you want?” she demanded, raising her fists.

  Bravo growled.

  “Relax, little ninja,” the boy replied. He had a slight accent. His words were short and clipped. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Elle lowered her hands. Bravo sat by her side, alert.

  “Your companion is invaluable,” the boy continued. “The loyalty and intelligence of a dog like yours cannot be matched. You are a very lucky girl.”

  “Who are you?” Elle asked, bluntly.

  “I was about to ask you the same question.”

  “But you already know who I am. You’ve been watching me all day.�
�� She raised an eyebrow. “What do you want?”

  “A conversation, maybe.” The boy flashed a roguish grin. “This apocalypse has made me a lonely boy.”

  Elle’s lips twitched. An almost-smile.

  “That’s the truth,” she said.

  “My name is Cheng,” he replied, bowing his head.

  “I’m Elle.” She touched Bravo’s head. “This is Bravo.”

  Cheng looked long and hard at Bravo.

  “You are fighters,” he stated.

  Elle said nothing.

  She noticed his tall black boots, stained with mud and bits of grass. His long, dark jacket was open, revealing an inky shirt. A beautiful piece of jade hung on a leather cord around his neck, marked with Chinese characters.

  “I’m not a soldier, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Cheng said. He lowered himself onto the concrete steps, resting his forearms on his knees. “I am here as a…what is it you Americans call it? A contractor? I’m a freelancer.”

  Elle sat down, but she kept at least ten feet between her and Cheng. Bravo sat at her feet, never taking his laser eyes off Cheng.

  “You freelance as what?” Elle asked.

  Here, Cheng smiled again.

  “Many things. Whatever they need me to be.” He looked at Elle. “And what are you, Elle? You do not look like a soldier, but you carry danger with you. I can smell it.”

  Elle picked at her jacket sleeve.

  “I’m just surviving,” she said. “I came here looking for my uncle. He’s not here.”

  “Who is your uncle?” Cheng asked.

  “Manny Costas. He’s a pilot.”

  “Ah. Yes, they call him the crazy one.”

  Elle looked up sharply.

  “My uncle isn’t crazy,” she retorted.

  “I didn’t say he was. That’s just the general consensus.” He smiled again. “He’s known to be a little eccentric.”

  Elle opened her mouth, then closed it.

  “Well,” she said. “There’s truth to that.”

  “I have never met him,” Cheng went on. “But I have seen him. He’s well known in the militias.”

  “That’s what everyone keeps telling me,” Elle replies. “He’s just not here.”