End Days Super Boxset

by Hayden, Roger

  The scene was as calm as Janice described. “They should be preparing,” Mark thought. “They're eating all this food, and it hasn't even been twenty-four hours.”

  He put both hands over Mr. Harper's guard railing and looked out into the distance. Not a street or house light existed. Where were the power company response teams? Where were the police? Anyone? It was if no one were doing a damn thing. Suddenly, Mr. Harper's door swung open.

  “Oh, Mark, I thought it was you,” he said.

  Mark turned around from the railing and faced him.

  “Gee, Mr. Harper, I thought you'd be down there partying with everyone else.”

  Mr. Harper laughed. “Yeah, wouldn't that be a hoot.”

  “I just don't understand how anyone could celebrate at a time like this. Our country is at war,” Mark said.

  “War?” Mr. Harper said, shuffling to his porch swing. “What are you talking about, war?” He took a seat as the swing creaked.

  “Just certain matters that concern me,” Mark replied. “But don't worry yourself with it.” Mark scratched his head, trying to find the right words. “Mr. Harper, Janice and I were wondering, do you have—do you, like, have family close around here?”

  Mr. Harper titled his head to the side with a confused look similar to what he had given Janice.

  “First it's war, now it's family? You're making little sense here, Mark.” He leaned forward on his cane. “Are you trying to sell my body to science or something?” he asked.

  Mark laughed. “No, not at all. I wanted to know if you had any family in the area. Kids? Grandkids? Someone you can stay with?”

  “Got two boys who live in South Carolina with their families. I told you about them, remember?”

  “Yes, of course. I remember your boys.”

  “Can you just tell me what this about? I may be old, but I'm not dense.”

  “Do you want to go with us?” Mark asked. “Janice and I are going to Milledgeville for a while. We have a house that has food, supplies, and maybe even power.”

  Mr. Harper looked up at Mark with serious contemplation. “Your wife asked me the same thing, I told her that I have to take care of Martha, and she needs me here.”

  “Janice already asked you?” Mark asked.

  “Yes, she did. I'll be fine here, Mark, I really will.”

  “Mr. Harper, I don't think you understand—”

  “Look, I know Martha has passed, but I still feel her anyway. She's around me all the time. This is my home, it is our home, and I'm not going anywhere. I do appreciate your concern though,” Mr. Harper said, tapping his cane on the deck.

  Mark stood silently for a moment against the porch railing then patted his legs with his hands. “Very well,” he said. “We just wanted to make sure that you'll be OK.”

  “I will be, don't worry, and tell Janice I said thank you.”

  “The power is going to be out for some time,” Mark said.

  “I’ll be ready,” Mr. Harper replied.

  “We'll see you soon,” Mark said.

  “Take care,” Mr. Harper answered.

  Mark walked off the deck, catching a glimpse of the neighborhood barbecue in process. Back at the house, his mind was completely made up on going to Milledgeville.

  ***

  Janice finished packing when Mark walked into their bedroom carrying his flashlight.

  “How's it going in here?”

  Janice zipped up a bag and sighed. “All packed and ready to go.”

  Mark sat between the suitcases on the bed. “So...I talked to Mr. Harper...”

  “And?” Janice asked.

  “And he said to thank you for the offer, but he does not want to leave.”

  Janice nodded, saying nothing. Mark continued. “He doesn't have any family in the area, but he insists he'll be OK.”

  “I hope he is. I don't want to have to worry about him the whole time we're gone.”

  “We'll check in with him when we get back.”

  Janice walked to the closet, pulled a bathrobe out, and placed it on the bed. “I'm going to take a shower now. There should still be some hot water left.” She unbuttoned the shirt she had been wearing all day and unfastened her bra. To Mark, her bare body looked radiant in the candlelit. She pulled her pants off and slipped on her bathrobe.

  “You know,” Mark said with a smile. “We should conserve the hot water by taking a shower together.”

  “This again?” Janice replied.

  “I'm just trying to be practical here,” Mark said.

  “All right,” Janice said. “Just get in there before I change my mind.”

  ***

  Around two in the morning, they left the house. The neighborhood was quiet, and no one was around. Both were dressed in casual camping clothes: jeans, boots, and button-up long-sleeved shirts. Janice's hair was tied back, and Mark wore a dark-blue hat. They walked to the bug-out car in the driveway and loaded the rest of their bags. The sound of helicopters rang in the far distance. They stood frozen by the car. “There,” Mark said, looking up.

  The sound grew louder, and with it they could see the lights of two helicopters coming in range of their neighborhood skyline. They looked like police copters, each equipped with a large spotlight, scanning the ground below.

  “Well, it's about time,” Janice said. “Maybe they can tell us what's going on.” They marveled at the sight and sound of functional machinery from above.

  “You know what this means, right?” Marks said.

  “What?” Janice asked.

  “The EMP hasn't affected everything. We're in luck.”

  Mark and Janice were disappointed to see the helicopters moving farther away. The thundering noise faded, and they became mere dots in the sky. Silence came when suddenly another wave of low rumbling came from above. A pack of helicopters flew overhead in a triangle formation.

  “What are they doing? Why don't they help us?” Janice asked.

  “I don't know,” Mark said. His attention was focused above.

  Janice thought for a moment then turned to Mark. “Do you have any flares or anything?”

  “Flares?” Mark asked, surprised.

  “Yeah, don't you have a prepper kit with everything in it?”

  “Everything? What's everything?” Mark asked.

  “Flares!” Janice said, frustrated.

  “Look, I'll use a flashlight and signal to them that way,” Mark said with his hand up. He knelt down and unzipped his backpack. The helicopters grew closer, a legion of military Black Hawks, six in all. Mark pulled out his flashlight, held it up in the air, and clicked it on and off.

  “Do it faster,” Janice said.

  “I'm trying to get their attention, not start a rave,” Mark scoffed.

  “They're flying away,” Janice said.

  As fast as the Black Hawks came into view in the distance, they were soon gone. The jarring cacophony of their collective whirring faded away as silence crept back into the neighborhood. Mark turned to Janice and noticed his wife looking distraught.

  “Whoever they're looking for, it's not us.” He turned off his flashlight and put his arm around her shoulder. “We have to go on with our plan.”

  “I know,” Janice said, disappointed. “For a minute I was thinking we were being saved.”

  “We're going to be fine,” Mark said. “Just fine.”

  ***

  The road to Milledgeville was littered with deserted vehicles. While scanning the vehicular graveyard before them, Janice saw people sleeping in their cars. Many of them were too far from home to do anything but sit in their car and wait. Mark and Janice drove by undetected for the most part. People saw them, but did not react quickly enough to do anything about it. Mark felt justified having left so late at night.

  “Maybe there's power in Milledgeville,” Janice said, leaning back in her the seat. She felt grateful for their 1970 Plymouth Roadrunner, grateful that it worked.

  “We can only hope,” Mark replied. “A
ccording to James, it's more of the same.”

  The buildings and homes on their journey were as quiet and dark as anywhere else they passed through. There were no street lights, no homes with lights in the windows, and no buildings with flashing signs. They called them “dead towns.” The most obvious sign of the EMP’s effects were the cars in the road. It was an instant indicator that the problem had spread.

  “As soon as we see another passing car, then we can breathe again,” Mark said. The dim dashboard lights illuminated his tired face.

  For the past fifty miles of their journey, no other car passed them. Mark drove at sixty miles per hour on the highway to conserve fuel. With so many hazards in the road, he also had to be careful. They were on Georgia State Route 16 with an hour and a half to go to get to Milledgeville. They had filled up the tank with their fuel cans prior to leaving, and Mark estimated they had enough in the tank to get there.

  Marked looked forward to finally getting there. James would tell them everything they had been wanting to know. He would tell them what happened. If the generators worked, they might be able to see the news on television or read about it on the web. Mark was hopeful. Janice nodded off against his shoulder.

  It had been a while since they had been to the bug-out house. The last time they had driven there, a year before, he had used GPS to find the place, tucked away, deep in the woods. He could barely remember the way without it. He looked at Janice in a panic, but she was sleeping. He thought of being lost and running out of fuel. His heart beat with anxiety.

  He looked carefully at each road sign they passed. They had driven over a hundred miles. Milledgeville was forty miles away, and Mark knew how to get there. It was the location of the bug-out house that he had trouble remembering.

  “Think, dammit,” he told himself.

  They soon entered Milledgeville, and nothing had changed. Buildings didn't have power. Cars weren't moving, and it was as dark as a shadow. He could feel the nearness of the bug-out house. Ahead, on the seemingly endless two-lane road was a closed gas station and liquor store. There was also a red-and-white water tower in the distance. He remembered the gas station and the water tower. They were close. He took a quick left and drove up and down a long curving hill.

  “Son of a bitch,” Mark said to himself. His eyelids were weighing heavily.

  “What's wrong?” Janice asked, waking up.

  Mark glanced at her, surprised that she was awake.

  “Nothing, I was just talking to myself.”

  “Are we lost?” she asked.

  “No,” Mark said. “Not really. I mean, kind of, but I've got a handle on the situation.”

  Janice didn't know what to say. She looked around and tried to refresh her memory. Mark turned on the first dirt road he saw on the left. The car bumped up and down on the road for miles. “Keep going,” Janice said. “Trust your instincts.”

  ***

  James was sitting upright in his bed reading a book under a small battery-powered desk light attached to the wooden frame of his bedpost. An engine rumbled from outside. He closed his book and sat up, listening more attentively. The vehicle was getting closer. He shifted to the edge of his twin-size bed and stood up in his flannel pajamas. All the lights in the house were off, save for his reading light.

  He grabbed his old Winchester .22 rifle, leaning on the nightstand nearby. Lights shined between the gaps in the blinds that covered his window. The car reached the front of the house and parked. James peeked outside but could only see headlights. The lights shut off as two people got out of the car and shut their doors. James put on his slippers and left the room.

  Mark and Janice walked toward the front door of the bug-out house as unseen night crickets chirped all around them. James swung open the door and shined his portable spotlight on them, recognizing them immediately.

  “Mark, Janice, welcome! I didn't expect you here so early.”

  They lumbered over, looking weary but relieved. Mark stuck his hand out first. “Good to see you, James,” he said.

  “Likewise,” James said. “How was the trip?”

  Janice turned to James, opened her arms and gave him a hug. The bristles of his beard tickled her shoulder. “So glad we made it in one piece,” she said.

  “Me too,” James said.

  They brought their luggage and the few boxes of supplies inside. James had Mark park their bug-out car in the backyard under a green camouflaged canopy where his truck was. James showed them around the house to jog their memory.

  “Been about a year since you folks were last here, right?” he said.

  “Sounds about right,” Mark nodded.

  There was a big living room with a couch, love seat, and recliner. A bookcase filled with books sat against the wall near the fireplace. On the other side of the fireplace sat a flat-screen television propped up on a TV stand across from the couches. The place was spacious enough, four bedrooms in all. They walked through living room with their flashlights on. To their right was a small hall that led to the kitchen. To their left was a hall leading to the bedrooms.

  James stopped and turned to them. “Drop your bags for a moment. I want to show you something.”

  Mark and Janice looked at each other then placed their bags on the ground.

  “Follow me,” James said, walking to the kitchen. They followed and entered the quaint, dark kitchen. James leaned against a nearby wall. “You may remember this antique from the forgotten age. It's called a light switch.” He flipped it upward, turning on the overhead kitchen light.

  Janice jumped with joy. “I can't believe!”

  “Yes, we have power, but it's very limited,” James said, flicking the switch back off. “We have to conserve every ounce of it.”

  “So the backup generators work?” Mark asked.

  “Yes and no,” James replied. “Some of them work, some of them shorted out. Should have gotten more.”

  “We saw helicopters earlier before we left,” Janice said.

  “Helicopters?” James said in disbelief. “What were they doing?”

  “They just flew by, we don't know,” Mark answered.

  “Strange,” James said. He thought to himself for a moment, seemingly in a daze. Suddenly he looked up and smiled, leading them to the kitchen sink. “This, you might remember, is called a water faucet.” He pulled up on the faucet handle as fresh water rushed out.

  “Thank God,” Mark said.

  “Compliments of well water out back,” James said while filling up a small glass. “Help yourselves. You must be thirsty.”

  He showed them the bathrooms, two in all for the house, as well as each empty bedroom. The house was old, and its wood paneling and gray stucco ceiling were relics of design from decades past.

  “Where are the Robinsons?” Mark asked. “How bad did Atlanta get hit?”

  “Like you, they're struggling with the same crisis. Terrance got the bug-out van running. Should only be a matter of time. I managed to get him on the radio, briefly. He said they were making their move within the next day or two. I have just one thing to say to both of you: enjoy the silence while it lasts,” James said.

  “Glad to hear they're OK,” Janice said.

  “So am I,” James added. They walked back into the living room with James leading the way with his flashlight. Everything throughout the house was minimal. Each room had a bed, closet, dresser, and nightstand.

  Mark took keen notice again of the flat-screen in the living room. “What are they saying on the news?” he asked.

  “The TV is shot,” James said. “But if it's any consolation, the radio still works.”

  “Was it an EMP?” Mark asked.

  James hesitated. “Probably.”

  “Probably?” Mark said, incredulously.

  Janice put a hand on his shoulder. “Let's get some rest, honey, and go over all of this tomorrow.”

  “All right, all right. To be continued, got it. Goodnight, James.”

  “Yes, goodnight
, James,” Janice said.

  “Goodnight to the both of you. Glad you made it here OK.”

  “So are we,” Mark said.

  Later that night, as Mark and Janice lay in bed, a certain realization swept over them. After all the traveling, it had to be close to five in the morning, and they were far from home. Things had changed drastically, and they didn't know what else to do. Janice eventually nodded off while Mark stared at the stucco ceiling above in deep thought and worry.

  The Day After

  Sunrays beamed in through the thin, white lace curtains of the window in Mark and Janice's room. They had slept for hours, well into the next day. Mark's eyes fluttered open; he was disoriented. It felt as though they were back home, but caught between a dream and being awake, and he couldn't tell where he was. He and Janice lay on top of the covers of the queen-size bed, still wearing their clothes from the day before. Mark was curious about the time, or even the day, but couldn't see a clock anywhere.

  The window was opened a crack, and the curtains swayed delicately in the air. Mark felt dehydrated. His body ached from all the hammering the night before. Janice lay on her side with her back to him. He watched the subtle movements of her breathing, the glimmer from the small silver stud on her earlobe. Her shoulder-length black hair was tucked behind her ear. Mark placed a hand on her back and rubbed gently. She moaned as if still tired.

  “Good morning,” Mark said.

  “Hmm. What day is it?” she asked, her eyes still closed.

  “I think it's Tuesday.”

  “Where are we?”

  “We're at Motel James.”

  “Ugh. I was hoping all of that was just a bad dream.”