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

by Rashad Freeman

  At first my stomach thanked me and screamed for more. But as the stale crumbs worked their way down my throat, someone pulled the emergency brake and did a one-eighty.

  I lurched over the side of the raft and dry heaved before a stream of water and partially chewed crackers shot forth. I gagged and lapped up a handful of saltwater to clean my mouth. That only made me vomit more and by the time I was done, I was happy to just lay over the side with my face pressed into my hands.

  "Come on," a voice suddenly called out.

  At first I thought I was delirious and slowly sat up and stared toward the shore.

  "Hurry up and get the bucket. I got dibs on the little one and I wanna get back before Timmy spoils her."

  I gasped then covered my mouth. Two men were making their way through the mangroves and down toward the water. I scampered over the side of the boat and tried to slide into the chilly tide as quietly as possible.

  "Did you hear that?" one of the men asked.

  "Hear what?"

  "Somebody is down there."

  I could hear them picking up speed and I tried to crawl through the water like a crab. My pants felt like anchors and the freezing temperature made me want to find a blanket. But I knew I needed to hide.

  I dipped my head under the waves and frog kicked away from the boat. When I came back up the men were nearly in the water, but I'd put enough distance between us that they wouldn't see me immediately.

  One of the men was short and fat. He had waterproof overalls on, the kind that fishermen or crabbers wore. His hair was frizzy and white and sprouted out to the side beneath a blue baseball cap. He had a long, white beard and in general, looked like a gnome.

  The other man was average height and skinny. His skin looked leathery and sun-worn and his shaggy brown hair fell over his face and covered his eyes. The jeans he wore were ripped up like he'd been dragged behind a truck and on one foot he had a dirty sneaker and the other a hiking boot.

  "What the hell is that?" the short man asked as our boat came into view.

  "A damn boat."

  "Well shit, I can see it's a boat Dusty. How the hell did it get here?"

  "Maybe it's always been here."

  I watched the men quietly as they waded closer to the raft. They were suspicious, but more confused than anything else. Their back and forth bickering was almost comical as they argued about the boat.

  The skinnier man, Dusty, leaned into the boat and looked around. There was a bag on the floor and some extra jackets that Clark had brought. He rifled through them then rubbed his hand across the side.

  "It's still wet," he said then looked in my direction.

  My heart exploded from my chest and I jumped in shock. The water splashed and it was just enough for them to notice me.

  "Frank look!" Dusty shouted and started toward me.

  He was quick, much quicker than I thought and before I knew it was only a few yards away, bearing down on me with a rusty knife clutched in his hands. His buddy Frank was still trying to maneuver around the rocks and didn't look too pleased about being in the water.

  "You're a dead man!" he shouted at me.

  I cringed and tried to scrambled away, but my feet slipped on the rocks. I fell back into the water and the last thing I saw was the blurry image of Dusty leaping toward me, knife first.

  CHAPTER 26

  WE'RE NOT DEAD YET

  Blood poured into the ocean, fading to a thin red as it mixed with the water. Before long, I was surrounded by a crimson pool of it, a halo of death, marking the end of a life that had clocked way too many years already.

  I stared through the murky tide as Dusty's face stared defiantly back at me. I could feel his anger and his pain, his deep, brown eyes boring into my soul, screaming with excruciating malice. He leaned closer, then gulped his last breath and the life faded from his face.

  I broke the surface in time to see Koran running back toward Frank. He had a small knife in his hands and moved with a sense of murderous purpose.

  Before Dusty could reach me, Koran had barreled through the mangroves and buried his knife into Dusty's back. It was a bad way to die, but I was sure he deserved it. Now it was Frank's turn.

  To his credit, Frank put up one hell of a fight. Much more than Koran was obviously expecting. He was a scrappy little man.

  Before he had a chance to skewer him like Dusty, Frank whipped around and tackled Koran by the waist. They went splashing into the surf and vanished under the tainted water.

  When they emerged Frank had clamped down on Koran's arm like an alligator. He was shaking vigorously while Koran punched him over and over in the head. Frank bit down harder on his knife hand and tried to wrestle the blade away.

  With a grunt, Koran grabbed Frank and hoisted him into the air. He slammed him into the water and ripped his arm free. Before Frank could resurface he drove the knife downward with a satisfying yelp. Frank's limbs jerked and snapped momentarily then his body went still.

  Huffing, Koran straightened up. He looked around the bay then started toward me. I wiped my face and tried to shake off the feeling of icy death that clung to my skin. Koran grinned then cleaned his knife on his wet jeans.

  "We've gotta go," he gasped in an out of breath tone . "Clark and Decker are dead."

  "What!" I shouted then covered my mouth with my hands.

  "That damn island was crawling with guys, like ten of them. I think we got everyone that spotted us, but those idiots didn't make it. I found where they're keeping the girls. Let's go."

  With that, Koran turned around and started heading back toward the beach. I was still in shock from what I'd just heard and my legs refused to obey.

  "Randall," he called back to me.

  "They...they're dead?"

  "If you want to save your family, you don't have time for this shit. Yes, they're dead and if we don't go now your family will be dead too."

  Those words got through and I started waddling through the water as fast as I could. I passed Frank's lifeless corpse floating in the shadows and winced. I immediately felt guilty for my weakness. I needed to hate him, I wanted to hate him.

  My kids were here. My wife was here. Somehow, he had something to do with it and for that, he deserved worse than death.

  I followed Koran onto the shell-ridden beach and through a dense cluster of palms. As we neared the opening, he slowed down then dropped to the ground. I followed his lead and army crawled until we were shoulder to shoulder.

  "Up there," he whispered. "Just over that mound there's a shack. The...the girls are inside."

  "How do you know?"

  "I just know," he said darkly.

  "How do we get to it?"

  "They had some folk roaming around. They're not here anymore. There's maybe three guys inside. That's it. Stay low and nobody will see us."

  Koran pushed himself to his feet and crouched down. He skipped across the sand using his arms like extra legs. He looked like a damn gorilla and in any other situation I would've found it funny, but not today.

  I did the same and followed him to a patch of dry grass a few yards from the shack. We took cover there and waited. He wanted to be sure we hadn't been seen. He'd learned the hard way to be careful and Clark and Decker had paid that price with their lives.

  "There's a fence around the back," Koran started. "I didn't see that before. We should check it out first."

  Before I could reply he'd taken off. He sped around the dense thicket and charged toward the fence. Cursing under my breath, I hurried to catch up. So much for being careful, I thought.

  "What the hell?" I asked Koran as I caught up to him.

  He didn't reply, his eyes were locked on something up ahead.

  "I thought we weren't trying to get killed," I said.

  "Look," he replied in a dry voice.

  I followed his finger toward the fenced area. At first I didn't see a thing worth mentioning. Old boat motors, seats from random vehicles and other junk littered the sand. But I
continued to look.

  "What?" I asked in frustration.

  "There!" he said and jabbed his finger toward a pile of junk.

  My breath got caught at the back of my tongue and I gagged. Fear and anger swelled inside of me and I almost shouted in rage.

  "He's alive," Koran said and placed his hand on my shoulder.

  Alistair was laid over in the dirt. His hands had been hogged tied behind his back and his face was bruised and swollen. But like Koran said, he was alive. I could see his chest moving up and down with each breath he took.

  "Do you see Charlie and David?" I asked frantically.

  "No, but they're probably close. We need to be quick."

  Koran held up his knife and pushed it into my hands. Reaching behind his back he pulled out a pistol and checked the magazine.

  "I didn't think Clark would need this anymore," he grumbled. "Get your son. I'll keep watch, he probably knows where everyone else is."

  I nodded then scampered across the sand toward Alistair. I tried to stay quiet, but I ended up running forward at full speed, my heart thundering with every step I took.

  I reached the rusted gate and flung it open. It squealed, but I rushed inside, ignoring the potential danger. Alistair slowly rolled over at the sound and from the look on his face, I was the last person he expected.

  "Dad?" he groaned in an almost unfamiliar voice.

  I crouched next to him and brushed the sand from his face. "Are you okay?" I asked.

  "I'm good. I didn't think you were gonna come."

  I laughed. Nothing was funny, not even remotely, but my brain couldn't process real emotions at that moment. Humor was the remedy for the weak.

  "I'll never leave you guys," I said. "I'll always be there."

  Alistair forced a smile onto his face. Mirroring him, I sawed at the waterlogged, ropes that bound his wrists. Then I cut the ones from around his ankle and helped him to his feet.

  He fell into my arms and hugged me. I pulled his head into my shoulder and kissed the top of his head.

  "I'm sorry," he groaned and I could feel his tears pouring down my arm.

  "Sorry for what?"

  "I tried dad, I tried to stop them. I couldn't."

  I grabbed him by the shoulders and nudged him back so we were face to face. Wiping the tears from his eyes, I smiled. He was so much better than me. I'd worried about how he would grow up, how strong of a man he'd become. But in that moment I knew I never needed to worry again.

  He bored into me with his soft, brown eyes. I could see the shame and guilt drenched all over his face and it threatened to break me. Alistair was the best of me, he was all that was good in me yet somehow he thought that wasn't enough.

  "Alistair, you have nothing to be sorry for. I'm sorry, I'm sorry I wasn't there when you guys needed me."

  "I love you dad," he said.

  "I love you too."

  I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him again. I held him there, just for a few seconds, but it felt like a lifetime. It felt like he was a little child again and I could hold him there forever. But gone were those days, gone were the times when I could shield him from the dangers of the world. My son had grown up.

  I wiped my face and stared around. "Where is everyone?" I asked him.

  "They...they took mom and Ashley inside," he replied then paused. "David and Charlie are fine," he added as he saw the concern in my face. "They tied them up in a dog crate around the side of the house."

  "Take me there."

  Koran joined us and we followed Alistair to the far side of the house. Pushed up against the wall was a filthy, blue dog grate. The plastic was frayed and turning brown from dirt and grime and the metal door looked rusted shut.

  Charlie and David were crammed inside of it. They were both asleep and had their legs and feet bound with duct tape. Aside from that and looking like they needed a bath, they were in pretty good shape.

  I moved to open the crate and Koran grabbed me.

  "Keep them quiet," he said and pointed at the crust-covered window above.

  I nodded and silently started to pry the door open. Charlie moved and I could see that both of their mouths had been covered with duct tape as well and their faces were smeared with dried tears and dirt.

  "Shh," I whispered to him as he opened his eyes wide. "You're safe now. I'm gonna take you out of here."

  The door creaked and I reached in and grabbed Charlie. His eyes swelled with joy and he shivered. I wiped his face and pulled him into my chest.

  "We've got to hurry," Koran urged.

  I cut my eyes then kissed Charlie on the head. "Alistair cut the tape," I said and laid Charlie on the ground.

  To get David I had to nearly crawl inside of the crate. He was still half asleep and squirmed like a snake as I dragged him into the sand. I could only imagine the horrors they'd been through.

  "Stay quiet," I told him. "It's me, it's your dad."

  David stared up at me and quivered. There was so much fear in his face and I wanted nothing more than to make it all go away. His eyes started to water and I rubbed the tears away with my fingers.

  With him in one arm, I scooped up Charlie and left the fenced yard. I ran around the house and pass the mounds of trash and broken vehicle parts. Alistair followed close behind me, not stopping until we made it back to the mound of dead grass.

  There, I laid them down and cut the remaining tape. David jumped up and dove at me. He tried to talk, but his words were swallowed by hyperventilation.

  "I love you guys," I said and hugged all three of them.

  David started to cry and I squeezed him tighter. I patted the top of his head and let his tears fall onto my neck.

  "Did they hurt you?" I asked.

  David and Charlie shook their heads from side to side. Alistair made a confirming grunt and I took a deep breath trying to contain my anger.

  "Randall!" Koran growled through clenched teeth.

  I wanted to turn around and sock him in the side of his head, but he was right. Melinda was still in that shack and God only knew what was being done to her.

  "Alistair listen to me," I said as I released them. "Down there, there's a boat. It's tied to the mangroves. I need you to take your brother and get them on it. Wait there until we come back."

  "But dad," he started.

  "Listen! I don't have time to argue or explain. I have to get your mom and Ashley and Stephanie."

  "Bud dad!"

  "Please Alistair. You get down there and you stay quiet. Keep your brothers safe. I love you. I love you guys. Now go!"

  I straightened up and turned around. David and Charlie were still sobbing, but I knew Alistair would do what needed to be done. Now, I needed to do what needed to be done.

  "Take the gun," Koran said as we headed back toward the shack. "I'm better with the knife than you are."

  I stopped and pulled the knife from my belt loop. I handed it to Koran and took his pistol. Swallowing, I clenched my jaw and stared up at the rusty shack with cold eyes.

  "Come on," I said and marched forward.

  We hurried around the side of the building and knelt down at the corner. Scampering on all fours we moved around the front and stopped. There was a window to the left of the door just above our heads.

  "I'm gonna check it out," I whispered.

  Terrified, I slowly rose my head above the sill and peeked inside. I expected to be greeted with the barrel of a shotgun, but my luck held. It looked like there were only two rooms. The front room was empty and makeshift drapes had been hung in the doorway to separate the backroom from the front.

  "It's empty," I said as I crouched back down. "There's another room in the back, we should be able to get inside without anyone seeing us."

  Koran nodded and we moved onto the tiny porch up front. The door to the shack was made of thick, unfinished wood. The knob was rusted metal covered in chipped, red paint.

  I reached out and grabbed it then looked back to Koran to make sure he was
ready. He nodded and I started to mouth the countdown from three.

  "Three, two, one," I mumbled before slowly twisting the knob.

  CHAPTER 27

  WHAT CAN'T BE BROKEN

  I pushed the door open and stepped into the darkness that lay inside. The smell was a dank aroma, like waterlogged clothes and moldy bread. It smacked me in the face like an open hand as soon as I walked through the door.

  Up ahead a faint glow cast a hardly noticeable light from the other room. It flickered from the slits between the curtain like a candle or something. A cracked window let in a cool breeze, but the air inside felt moist and dirty.

  "You smell that?" Koran whispered.

  "Yeah, it fucking reeks."

  "No...no. It smells like gasoline or something."

  I shrugged and stepped further into the house. A dark brown, wicker chair was tucked into the far corner. A pair of men's jeans and a t-shirt were thrown across it. Other clothes were scattered across the room like someone had undressed in a hurry.

  We tried to move silently across the concrete floor. A thin layer of sand shifted with each step we took, but the noises from the other room masked any sound that we did make.

  "Hurry up!" an angry, deep voice shouted.

  We both froze. I tightened my grip on the pistol and clenched my jaw. Trembling, I looked back to Koran and he nodded his head forward.

  "Shut the hell up Timmy. You had plenty of time with the other broad. You ain't save none of that to share," another voice replied.

  "Damn it Carl, that's why I let you have the young one first, so we're even."

  "Then stop rushing me. This bitch is feisty."

  There were at least two men inside and I knew they had the girls with them. I felt a rage come over me. I wanted to rush into the room and shoot everything breathing. But I fought to compose myself and kept edging closer silently.

  I stopped right next to the curtains that hung from the ceiling. Koran tapped me on the shoulder and gave me an encouraging nod. I reached out to grab the purple drapes, but stopped as someone inside grunted.

  "I told you be still," the man named Carl shouted angrily.