Dust to Dust: Deconstruction Book One (A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller)

by Rashad Freeman

  "Water is out," I announced as I headed back onto the porch with my head slumped. "Go get your shoes Mike. We're going to the store."

  Jennifer clapped her hands together and Mike groaned. I shrugged and held my hands up. I didn't know what he wanted me to do, but our status had just taken a nose dive. It was time to get out and find out just what the hell was going on .

  A few minutes later Mike reappeared, wearing a pair of sneakers and a baseball cap. He had his sons book bag strapped on his shoulders and his wallet clutched in his right hand.

  "What are you doing?" Jennifer asked.

  "Am I supposed to carry your crap in my hands?"

  "Fine, just make sure you bring his bag back."

  "Yes ma'am," Mike retorted. "Randall you ready to go?"

  "Just waiting on you," I replied.

  I gave Melinda a kiss then headed down the steps to the sidewalk. Mike followed after me and together we started our two mile journey.

  "Where's my kiss?" Jennifer yelled after him.

  "Ugh," he grunted then turned around.

  Running back up the porch, he gave Jennifer a quick peck on the cheek. "You happy now?"

  "Yes, actually I am. Stay safe out there."

  Mike laughed. "What's the worst that can happen? We're just two well equipped guys going grocery shopping."

  CHAPTER 5

  GROCERY SHOPPING

  The hefty gate at the front of the neighborhood was slammed shut. The chain that pulled it open and closed hadn't moved in a few days and was already collecting rust from the downpour days before. It felt like an ominous sign to me, but Mike didn't even seem to notice.

  The guard tower at the front lay dormant. The doors were bolted shut and the windows had been boarded up. That however, had little to do with the storm. A few weeks earlier the homeowners association had decided to fire all of the guards. Now they were using some call center to grant visitor access and the general response from the community was less than pleased.

  Luckily, the gate that blocked the sidewalk didn't use any kind of electronics or outsourced workforce. It had a keypad lock on it and after punching in a few digits we swung it open and headed out.

  The water gently splashed onto the rocks of the lagoon as the wind picked up a bit. It wasn't storm weather, just the normal breeze that came unimpeded from the gulf. It was eerie now, but one of the main reasons we had chosen this neighborhood.

  "It's peaceful out," Mike said more to himself. "Kinda like a vacation, I like vacations."

  I nodded, even if the abandoned look gave me a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. The lagoons were always full of boats going or coming. Canoes and paddle boarding was an everyday thing out here. The rippling water looked strange without some watercraft cresting through its surface. He was right though, it was peaceful out.

  "So we gonna steal a cart?" I asked.

  "Yeah...I brought the bag to hide the liquor bottles."

  "Fucking alcoholic."

  "You try and deal with my two for a week and see if you don't develop an addiction."

  I laughed and sped up a bit. "Come on, I wanna get there and get back home."

  "What's the rush?"

  "I don't know. I just have a funny feeling about all of this. Don't want to leave Melinda and the kids alone for too long."

  "It's nothing man. You worry too much."

  "You don't worry enough."

  After about ten minutes we made it out of the neighborhood and headed down the back road to the grocery store. Most of the surrounding area was undeveloped and roads twisted through thick forests and wetlands. Small animals, or at least what I imagined to be small animals scurried through the dense vegetation beside us. Mike jumped a couple of times, but tried to play it off.

  "It's weird," I started.

  "What?"

  "I haven't seen another person. It's like a ghost town around here."

  "Well nobody's car works and people are lazy as hell. If it wasn't for your big mouth I sure as hell wouldn't be walking to the grocery store, but now that I am, I'm gonna make it worth my wild," he said and tapped his sons book bag.

  I frowned at him then continued on our way. As we walked the cool temperature started to turn muggy and hot. Florida hadn't surrendered to winter yet and was throwing one hell of a fit. Groaning, I wiped sweat from my face and used my shorts as a towel. They'd collected just about enough body fluid to be wrung out. The humidity in Florida had a way of making everything gross.

  With my head slumped, I lazily trotted down the sidewalk. I let my feet coast on autopilot and started to compile a shopping list in my head. I knew water was a must, but I needed to think food. With no electricity our choices for meals were severely limited and even if Trent was right, there was no telling when the power companies would make it to us.

  "Shit!" Mike suddenly jumped.

  I looked up and paused. A scraggily man in jeans and a flannel shirt was running towards us. He had two plastic bags clutched in his hands with snack cakes tumbling out of the top. Sweat was pouring down his scruffy face and his eyes were wild and bloodshot.

  I moved over to the side and he rushed past us and kept going. Mike stared after him for a moment then turned to me and grinned.

  "See, people are still alive man."

  I laughed and kept walking. I wanted to get back home as soon as I could. With every step we took I felt like I should turn back, like I was getting further and further away the moment that they needed me.

  Every so often I looked over my shoulder. I wasn't sure why that guy was running or what he was running from, but he didn't seem too stable. I imagined him running back toward us and attacking Mike or trying to stab me. You could never be too careful.

  Rounding the corner, we made it to the shopping plaza and stopped. Mike gasped and I felt the bottom of my stomach fall out. I'd been fighting a funny feeling the entire walk, but now I had a real reason to be worried.

  People were running in and out of the stores, holding as much as they could carry in their arms. Some were scuffling over grocery items in the middle of the parking lot. Others were scavenging what people dropped as they hurried to loot other businesses.

  The windows to the grocery store were broken and glass shards covered the walkway. The salon next door was on fire and trails of blood told stories of even darker crimes. Things like this, I'd only ever seen on the news.

  "What the fuck?" Mike mumbled. "What the fuck."

  "I had a feeling, I mean not like this, but I had a feeling it was gonna get bad."

  Mike shot me a sideways glance then took a deep, thoughtful breath. "What do you want to do?"

  "We're here now."

  "You think it's safe?"

  "I don't know, but we're gonna need food and water. Especially now, if we don't pick up some things they won't be here later. Let's go in, stick together and be quick."

  Mike nodded and we moved toward the broken doors of the grocery store. I grabbed an empty shopping cart on the way in then headed straight for the water. Only a few bottles were left, but we quickly grabbed them then headed to the soft drinks.

  "This is nuts," Mike continued to mumble. "It shouldn't be like this, there should be cops or something."

  People were all over the store. It was a free for all and the crazed looks from everybody we passed told me it was gonna get ugly in here soon. Even the store employees had abandoned their posts and were grabbing as much as they could carry. At that point, the world wasn't ending, but everyone in earshot seemed to think it was.

  As we turned the corner down another aisle, we almost crashed into three guys that were huddled together whispering in hushed voices. They froze when we appeared then gave us dirty looks and found another place to hold their meeting.

  "What the hell do you think that was about?" Mike asked wearily.

  "No clue, but I don't think it was something good. Let's hurry the hell up."

  We quickly tried to get anything that could be eaten on the fly. Cann
ed foods, bags of chips, peanuts even some lunch meat that we decided would go first. Mixed in with that were things like soap and rubbing alcohol and gauze. I was sure we'd missed some critical items, but we hadn't come to the store expecting Armageddon.

  "I think this is enough," I said as Mike tossed another bag of charcoal into the cart.

  We planned to grab one of those grills Jennifer asked about on our way back home. We weren't gonna tell her , but it was actually a good idea.

  Mike nodded and we pushed the cart over the broken glass and started down the sidewalk. Stopping by Ace, we crammed a small grill on top of everything else then tried to hurry away, avoiding prying eyes.

  "That wasn't so bad," Mike said.

  "Yeah, I think we made it out before the crazy hit."

  "Hey slow down!" a voice called from behind us.

  I snapped my head around fast enough to give me a slight dizzy spell. Trotting behind us were the three guys we'd almost ran into earlier in the store. If possible they looked even shadier and I felt the rush of adrenaline that came with fight or flight.

  "You guys made out in there huh?" the closest one asked.

  He was skinny and lanky with dirty jeans and a frayed gray t-shirt. His buzzed, black hair was riddled with patches, like he'd pissed the barber off and he sported a gaudy, gold watch, that I was willing to bet hadn't belonged to him a day earlier.

  "What's up?" Mike replied in a bold voice.

  "What's up...what's up is you took all the Goddamn water," another one of the guys said.

  He was a heftier fellow with long, dingy blonde hair. He was wearing cargo shorts and a green army jacket that was a bit too small.

  Behind him, the last guy stepped forward to make sure we gave him the respect he was due. He was the shortest of them all and his gut was hanging out from under his tiny, gray shirt. He had a trucker hat on and a thick, brown beard with cookie crumbs stuck in it.

  "Yeah," he said, backing up his friend. "You took the all the damn water and didn't leave any for us. So we want your cart."

  CHAPTER 6

  THE BEGINNING OF THE END

  "Fuck off!" Mike said angrily and tightened his grip on the shopping cart.

  Patches growled and jumped forward. I put my hands out and gave him a gentle nudge backwards then stepped in between him and the cart.

  "Hey, calm down," I said.

  "You calm down," Patches shot back. "You can't just take shit and not share. You didn't leave any water for anyone else."

  "And you think you can just take all of our stuff. Over my dead body. Go back to the meth house," Mike continued his verbal assault.

  Curly and Moe were still deciding how far they wanted to push this strong arm snatch job. From what I could tell, Patches was the only real threat and he seemed hell bent on robbing us of everything.

  "How about we split the water? There's enough to go around," I proposed.

  Guys like that needed to feel like they got a win and I was trying to avoid some kind of street brawl. Without phones or police, things would probably get out of hand quickly. He looked like he was considering my offer, until Mike had to open his big mouth.

  "Fuck that. We're not splitting shit. This is ours, you want some water find another store or head to a damn water fountain."

  "Your friend's got a big mouth on him," Patches spat.

  "Tell me about it."

  "If he doesn't watch it someone is gonna close it for him...permanently."

  Mike scoffed. "We don't have time for this. Randall let's go."

  He wheeled the cart around and started to push it down the sidewalk. Patches suddenly lunged forward and shoved me aside. He grabbed Mike by the shoulder and pulled him back.

  "You're not going anywhere with that cart."

  Mike turned around and swung wildly. His misplaced punch caught Patches in the side of the neck as he continued to sail forward and almost fell.

  Patches stumbled backward a few feet then recovered. He grabbed Mike by the shoulders then slung him to the ground. After that, it was on.

  Curley and Moe decided I'd be the object of their aggression. The bigger one grabbed me while the fat runt buried his fist into my stomach. I coughed and collapsed forward on all fours.

  My lungs burned as they prayed for air and I found myself back on a grade school playground, wishing I'd stay in those damn karate classes. I was too old to be getting my ass kicked now and I be damned if these two douche bags were the gonna be the ones to do it.

  I took a deep breath and thought, fuck it. Air finally found its way into my chest just in time for me to recognize the foot that was surging toward my head. I slipped to the side just as it sailed by.

  Pissed off, I jumped to my feet and dove at the chubby bastard that had just tried to make a field goal with my face. We collided like a car crash and slammed into the concrete. On my way down I caught a glimpse of Mike rolling across the ground with Patches.

  "What the hell are yall doing?" the bigger one yelled.

  All of a sudden, he didn't seem as convicted as his counterparts. He stood over me as I kneed and jabbed at his buddy, doing my best to replicate some moves I'd seen in a UFC fight.

  "Come on guys, let's just go," he continued to plead.

  I delivered another uppercut to his chubby friend and he gasped for air like a fish. I'd just dispatched a guy that probably spent his life playing Minecraft and eating flaming hot Cheetos. As belittling as that should've felt, I felt like I'd conquered the world.

  A few feet away, Mike and Patches were really going at it. Both of them were bleeding and yelling obscenities with every swing they took. My little skirmish paled in comparison.

  Mike shoved his elbow into Patches pelvis then kicked his leg out, finding a home in his tibia. With a howl, Patches staggered backward then let out an inhuman roar.

  I could see the fear cultivating in Mike's eyes. This had gone from a friendly scuffle to a battle of life and death. Mike was ill-equipped and Patches was looking like he'd just decided to wake up.

  Still screaming at the top of his lungs, Patches charged Mike and they went flying into a row of hedges. In a twisted web of legs and arms, they rolled through the mulch exchanging blows and verbal insults.

  I lost view of them partially as they tumbled further into the dense leaves. I could hear Mike shouting like a mad man and then something exploded like a plate being dropped on a marble floor.

  Everything stopped. Curly and Moe froze as their mouths dropped in shock. I stood there wild eyed with a million thoughts rushing through my head. It wasn't until I heard Mike groan and Patches stood up that I regained some mobility.

  I ran to the bushes, where Mike was laying on his back with his legs sprawled out in the grass. His hand was pressed tightly against the side of his stomach, desperately trying to staunch the flow of blood that had already drenched his t-shirt.

  "What the hell did you do?" the heftier man asked, his voice trembling in panic. "What the hell?"

  Patches was standing a few feet away with a small pistol in his hand. A thin tail of smoke swirled from the barrel and I could see the shock painted all over his face.

  "I...I, I didn't mean to. It...it just went off," he stuttered.

  "Let's get out of here," the chubbier man declared.

  "Randall," Mike moaned and reached out to me.

  I grabbed his hand and knelt beside him. "Somebody help, somebody help me!" I screamed, every word dripping with trepidation.

  "I didn't mean to...I'm sorry," Patches pleaded to deaf ears.

  He stuffed the pistol back into his pants then took a look around. His two anxious friends had already started retreating. With one last glance, they tore off the way they came.

  Mike's face was pale and his breathing seemed difficult. His eyes were hazy, but I could see the despair in them. He had the look of a man that had seen death face on and had crumbled beneath the morbid gaze.

  I'd never seen anyone injured like that before. No one that had gone f
rom alive and vibrant to clinging to life in a snap. I'd seen plenty of scary movies, twisted, demented tales, but this was what pure horror looked like. Only when faced with our mortality could we ever truly embrace real, palpable fear.

  "I don't want to die," Mike said in an almost childish voice.

  His words snapped me out of my daze and my brain started working in overload.

  "You're not gonna die Mike," I replied.

  I jumped up and ran to the cart that had thankfully been left by the band of murdering assholes. I rummaged around until I found the package of gauze and some disinfectant.

  "Don't you fucking leave me!" Mike yelled after me.

  I took his belligerence as a good sign and felt that just maybe he'd make it out of this. "Nobody is leaving you. I'm gonna fix you up crybaby."

  Honestly, I had no clue what I was doing, but common sense told me I need to clean it and try and stop the bleeding. Both of those goals ended in failure.

  "Hold still," I instructed as I poured the disinfectant over his wound.

  As soon as the liquid hit him he let out a wail that damn near busted my eardrums. He reeled and squirmed in pain, kicking up mulch and other debris that landed on top of him.

  With a handful of gauze, I pressed down on the little hole in his side. The white mesh quickly turned red and was rendered useless by the amount of blood oozing from him. I grabbed another box and ripped it open then stuffed the gauze on top of the old one.

  "Fuck!" Mike yelled in agony.

  I tried to hold him down, but he was throwing a fit squirming and twisting on the ground. More blood gushed from his wound and I knew if he didn't get help quickly he was going to die.

  "Come on man, we've gotta get you home. Those chicks across the street are nurses or something."

  Mike grunted and I took that as agreement. I grabbed his free hand and pulled him into a sitting position. I looked back at the cart and figured I could cram him in there if I moved the grill to the bottom shelf.