Long Haul Home Collection (A Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Thriller): Series Books 1-3

by Dana Fraser

  Hannah wouldn’t relent. She drifted back into the fugue, sitting on the couch with some heavy textbook in her lap full of numbers and symbols, slowly turning the pages. Ellis gave up arguing, told Cash to take what he needed from the food supplies, then went around the house pushing heavy pieces of furniture to block windows and doors.

  Cash slipped away without saying good-bye.

  Chapter Twelve

 

  The subdivision came alive at the tail end of dusk. Like vampires waking from their tombs, half a dozen males spread out across ten acres of surrounding lawn, their paths set to converge at the perimeter of Thomas Sand’s home.

  Cash watched them through his scope while there was still light, his night vision monocle hanging on a cord from his neck. A few feet from Cash, tied to a tree with escapable knots, Grub softly whined.

  There were no lights on in the house and Hannah and Ellis had been careful to stay away from windows during the daylight, at least from the watch Cash had kept on them where he waited at the tree line.

  He had gone deeper into the woods than where he waited at dusk, spending more than an hour looping back to his current vantage point to make sure no one had tracked him. Whoever they were, the men surrounding the house preferred to lay in wait for Hannah and her teenaged brother rather than chase after an armed adult male.

  Chest and balls drawn tight, Cash put his rifle down and clasped his hands together, the thumbs nervously rubbing at one another.

  If I don’t make it home, he thought in silent prayer, keep my family safe.

  The realization that he was about to square off against six heavily armed men for two people he’d met only days before weighed heavily against Cash’s conscience and his pledge to protect his sister’s children. The idea of abandoning Hannah and Ellis to keep his promise to Marie left a foul taste on his tongue. Ellis didn’t deserve to die. The kid was just trying to keep his sister safe. Hannah didn’t deserve to die, either. Her only sin was holding onto hope when hope had no facts to support it.

  Duty warred with honor, the thin line between the two cracking and blurring. He had made a solemn vow to Marie to help raise her kids, to always put family first. His brother-in-law had died because the man put community first. Not that Greg hadn’t been a great dad — he’d just played the role beyond his own children, trying to rescue his brightest students from the violent, drug infested neighborhoods in which they lived.

  Cash had pushed aside his duty to Marie and her children for the first time when he went after Hannah. He could have continued heading south, leaving Ellis to chase after his sister alone.

  He should have headed south. But he hadn’t and now honor wouldn’t let him walk away.

  With the last of the light extinguished from the sky, Cash lifted the monocle to his eye. The men hadn’t moved, but he needed to know if any of them were equipped with night vision. He hadn’t seen any scopes on the rifles they carried, but it was possible they had other optics.

  Or a spotter, he thought, balls drawing even tighter up inside him.

  Cash ran one last check on his weapons then crawled over to the bush where he had tied Grub’s leash. He fingered the knots, insuring that they hadn’t tightened and there was still enough slack that the puppy could get out after a decent struggle. To ensure the dog wouldn’t want to go anywhere, he opened two tins of the cat food and poured fresh water into his container. As Grub started to feast, Cash stroked at one floppy ear.

  “I’ll be back,” he promised then faded into the night.

  From the edge of heavy drapes, Ellis peered through night vision goggles at the street outside his house. On the opposite side of the room, Hannah gripped a black Sharpie in one hand and a purple beamed flashlight in the other, the head of the light all but pressed against the wall she was writing on. Near the breezeway into the kitchen, their packs waited, stuffed to the point Ellis wasn’t sure they’d be able to handle the heavy load for any distance.

  “Hannah,” he whispered but she kept on scribbling. “We have to go.”

  His gut told him it already was too late. The way the men had moved in, he was sure he and his sister had been under surveillance before they even entered the house.

  Cash had warned them that was probably the case. Ellis hadn’t disbelieved him, either, but he couldn’t leave Hannah. He hoped none of the men had followed Cash and captured or killed him. The former soldier deserved to get home to his family.

  The most frustrating part was that Ellis had convinced Hannah to go — but not soon enough. She insisted on leaving a message for her mother, in code, on where they were headed. He didn’t point out her plan left his father out in the cold, the code comprised of the complex mathematics Becca Sand worked with in developing encryption programs for the military.

  Ellis didn’t call out the lapse because he didn’t expect his father to gaze upon the code. He didn’t expect Becca to, either. But Hannah had to have that hope if she was going to make it to Tennessee.

  Only now it didn’t matter.

  “They’re moving in,” he whispered urgently. “At least pick up the damn rifle.”

  Surprising him, Hannah shoved the Sharpie in her pocket, picked up the M16 and thumbed it from safe to semi-auto.

  Getting on the ground, she crawled to a spot where the heavy leather couch shielded her from fire at the front of the house while she had a line on the breezeway, the stairs up and down and the hall to the master bedroom.

  With the glasses on, Ellis stared for a second at the tip of the M16’s barrel. It was rock steady, the same nearly impenetrable state of mind Hannah had for her research taking over now that she had the rifle in her hands.

  He couldn’t say the same about himself. His hands had been shaking when he wielded the homemade shotgun and they were shaking now. He took a steadying breath in just as the first man broke cover and ran for the front porch.

  Ellis squeezed the trigger, glass shattering in front of him. The bullets knocked the man to the ground, his body twitching as his comrades opened fire.

  Rolling along the floor, Ellis came up at the other window, eased back the curtain and looked for his next target. Behind him, Hannah opened fire on the back door.

  “How many?” she asked.

  “At least six to start—”

  His window vaporized with simultaneous fire from several weapons. He dove, made it to the wall by the stairs and pressed his back against it.

  “Switching to full auto,” Hannah whispered.

  “Good call,” he whispered back. If he loved her half a heartstring less, he would have said it was her only good call of the day.

  A single shot rang out, coming from the northwest and not hitting the house. A second one followed and then there was another eruption of gunfire from the attackers.

  But they were no longer shooting at the house and there were fewer firing.

  “Cash?” Hannah whispered.

  Ellis didn’t answer, didn’t dare hope that the soldier had returned to rescue them.

  Cash watched as one of the siblings dropped an attacker on the front porch. A few seconds later, a second attacker was shredded at the back of the house. Between the two deaths, Cash moved into position behind the remaining line of men.

  The man directly in front of him shouted out a command that threw Cash into another time and place.

  aTlaqa! aTlaqa!

  Cash sighted on the center of the man’s back and complied with the order he had given in Arabic to shoot. Cash swept left, taking out a second target then rolled to his next point of cover.

  From the house, full auto erupted, taking out the attacker at the opposite end of the perimeter the men had established. Cash hoped like hell Hannah and Ellis realized he was out there and knew exactly who they were firing on when they squeezed the trigger.

  Only one attacker remained, the others dead or dying. He tried to crawl backwards out of his location, retreating toward the direction from which they had all emerged. Cash
sent a bullet through his skull then pulled out a flashlight from his pocket and clicked the beam in the direction of the home’s shattered front window.

  A purple beam clicked back. Cautiously, Cash moved to the leader’s body, finishing him off with a shot to the head. He went to each attacker in turn, making sure he was leaving behind nothing but corpses.

  When Cash reached the porch, Ellis opened the door.

  “Grab your packs, we’ve got to leave now!”

  Ellis quickly obeyed, grabbing his and Hannah’s then racing over to where she stood at a wall. Cash did a double take as he realized she was writing on the wall’s surface.

  “Hannah!” Ellis growled. “We have to go.”

  Cash froze mid-step as he started across the room. Ellis whipped his head to look at the front door and the drapes blowing from the breeze entering the shattered window.

  Both men heard it — the sound of a car engine.

  “Damn it, woman,” Cash whispered, seizing her elbow.

  She forced one last symbol on the wall then dropped the Sharpie.

  Running out the back of the house, they made it to the tree line without being spotted as an SUV pulled onto the street and stopped. Four men filed out, their paths unerringly taking them to the dead bodies.

  “Wait here,” Cash hissed. “I’m going to get Grub and my pack. If I’m not back in ten minutes or those assholes get any closer, head due west and I’ll catch up.”

  Hannah watched Cash peel away into the dark then turned to Ellis. He had the night vision goggles on and was adjusting their distance settings.

  “It’s the Jeep,” he whispered, the tone terse and proprietary. “Wires are hanging down like they hot wired it.”

  “We shouldn’t talk,” she whispered back.

  His shoulders lifted and she thought he was shrugging at her, but he was wiggling out of his pack. He glanced once in the direction Cash had taken then again at the Jeep before smirking.

  “If I’m not back in eight minutes, head due west.”

  Chapter Thirteen

 

  Gunfire erupted in the west wing cellblock of the Harrow State Penitentiary. The sound multiplied as bullets ricocheted off concrete and steel bars.

  Banker Lee Petty dropped from the top bunk down to the ground, scurrying underneath for cover. The mattress above him smelled like industrial waste and a septic tank had been run through a blender.

  Suarez had fought the last two nights, emerging victorious and covered in the gore of his opponents. Returning to the room, the convict had done nothing to wipe the blood and guts of the deceased from his body and the stink had sunk deep into the bedding.

  With the shots growing louder, the gut-churning stink was the least of Banker Lee’s problems.

  “Cobarde,” Suarez rumbled, gaining his feet and spitting at the ground near Banker Lee’s face.

  Folding his massive arms across his chest, the big Mexican glared at the bars in front of him.

  “Ricardo Suarez!” a voice screamed, yelling the name of Banker Lee’s cellmate over and over.

  “Looks like I’m being paroled,” Suarez laughed.

  His buoyant expression immediately soured as a slim Latino stepped in front of the cell, his face an intricate network of cartel tattoos. Even from his hiding place under the bunk, Banker Lee could see that the tattoos weren’t the same cartel or gang that Suarez ran with.

  “Here he is, jefe,” the man called.

  A stockier Latino stepped into view. Seeing Suarez, he snapped his fingers. “AK.”

  With gunfire still ringing in his ears, Banker Lee figured the man was calling for an AK 47 assault rifle.

  He was right. El Jefe wrapped his meaty paws around the weapon as he flashed a gold-toothed grin.

  “Whoa, hey!” Banker Lee yelled, sticking his head out from under the bunk. “Open the fucking door and kill him. You ain’t got no beef with me.”

  “Yeah, open the door,” Suarez agreed, pounding one meaty fist against the palm of his other hand. “Coño.”

  Recognizing the challenge in the last word, Banker Lee groaned.

  El Jefe looked between Suarez and Banker Lee then nodded at one of his lackeys out of view. “Get the key.”

  “Hey,” Banker Lee said, throwing his friendliest smile at the men on the other side of the bars. “How about you let me out, too?”

  El Jefe smiled, his toothy grin disturbingly sharp. “Maybe.”

  What “maybe” meant became painfully clear a few seconds later when the key was placed in El Jefe’s hand.

  “You want to live,” the man said then pointed at Suarez, “kill him good. Then I’ll free you.”

  Banker Lee was trying to wrap his head around the deal when Suarez caught hold of his arm and flung him against the concrete wall on the opposite side of the cell. A leg as round as a tree trunk lifted, the attached foot aimed at Banker Lee’s head.

  Banker Lee dodged, bringing his fist straight up into Suarez’s balls.

  The Mexican bull barely flinched. His hands swooped down, searching for Banker Lee’s head. His fingers made contact and squeezed. With his sweaty, fear-soaked scalp recently shaved as an extra reward for winning his last fight, Banker Lee slipped out of the man’s grasp.

  Spinning on the ground, he reached up and grabbed the waist of the Mexican’s pants and jerked. Every last inmate was losing weight, some going days without eating. Suarez, with all his bulk to feed, had shed pounds and inches at a faster pace than most. With Banker Lee’s hard pull, Suarez’s pants pooled around his feet.

  The big Mexican twisted, tripping in his own clothing. As he fell, he wrapped his arms around Banker Lee’s chest, using the smaller man to cushion his fall. Fabric knotted around his ankles, Suarez still managed to get on his knees. Hefting Banker Lee up, Suarez flung him backwards so that his head bounced off the metal toilet.

  Bells tolled inside Banker Lee’s skull as two versions of his opponent swam in front of him. Seeing the Mexican getting into a standing position and trying to pull his pants up, Banker Lee launched his body forward.

  Even before the lights had gone out at the prison, Banker Lee had been fighting to keep another man’s dick out of his ass or mouth. As he flew toward Suarez, he opened his jaws wide and aimed for the meaty worm dangling between the Mexican’s legs.

  Making contact, feeling it thread past his lips and toward the back of his throat, he clamped down, locked his jaws, throttling left and right and choking on the flesh as blood filled his mouth.

  Screaming, Suarez pounded iron fists against Banker Lee’s skull but he couldn’t beat him loose.

  The penis detached, stringy veins slurpy backwards from Banker Lee’s mouth as both men sank to the floor.

  The door slid open and El Jefe stepped in. As Banker Lee blacked out, only one thought filled his head.

  Soon, Marie, soon.

  Dead Head

  Long Haul Home Book Three

  Chapter One

 

  “Told ya,” Ellis grinned as the Jeep rolled to a stop near the base of a decaying trestle bridge on the Ohio River. “Right where I left it.”

  In the rear seat cradling Grub, Hannah glared at the back of her brother’s head.

  “Why don’t you tell me about the part where you risked your life to steal back the Jeep,” she snarked, “all so we could drive twenty miles.”

  Cash wasn’t going to argue with the woman when she was all frothy, but Hannah was oversimplifying things. The gas in the Jeep would have lasted all the way to Cash’s homestead in Dover, but it couldn’t get them over the river just five miles south of her family home in Evansville.

  The bridge had become a choke point. And when it came to rock, paper, scissors, tank — well, the tank always won.

  Always.

  And they hadn’t exactly driven directly to the trestle bridge after finding the Evansville crossing guarded by the military. More than two days and a hundred miles had been tra
veled avoiding dangers that ranged from armed FEMA patrols to the area’s more mundane criminal elements.

  Climbing out of the Jeep, he shook his head as he remembered hearing Arabic being spoken by the men as they surrounded Ellis and Hannah’s home. It was inconceivable to Cash that an organized group of Islamists were operating so close to a military unit and had clearly been keeping the neighborhood of million dollar properties under surveillance.

  Maybe Ellis wasn’t too far off with his conspiracy theories.

  Leaving the kid to endure another dose of his sister’s scolding, Cash found a bush, unzipped his pants and emptied his bladder.

  Before he could finish, Ellis came up.

  “Find another bush,” Cash rumbled at the kid.

  “Yeah, right,” Ellis shot back. “When I biked out here last summer, I saw a Timber. No one here is eligible to suck out the venom if I get my dick bit just because I had to pick another bush.”

  “You’re messing with me,” Cash accused as he gave the surrounding underbrush another once over.

  “Yeah, right, like I want to share a bush with you because I’m a toe tapper or something,” Ellis answered, zipping up.

  Seeing Hannah about to put Grub on the ground for a few minutes, Cash stopped her.

  “Either your brother is yanking my chain or he’s seen a rattler out here before.”

  Her gaze went wide, the pale green irises almost glowing in the late evening sun. Her head whipped in Ellis’s direction. His shrug drew her face into a fresh scowl.

  “Hold him, please.” She handed the puppy off to Cash before walking away. “And don’t come around the other side of the Jeep.”