Broad America
End Days
Book 3
Fighting to Get Home
E.E. Isherwood & Craig Martelle
Connect With Craig Martelle
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Connect With E.E. Isherwood
Website & Newsletter: http://www.sincethesirens.com
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Copyright © 2019 by E.E. Isherwood & Craig Martelle
All rights reserved.
ISBN 13: 9781797427751
ASIN: B07NV2XC7X
Cover Illustration by Heather Hamilton-Senter
Editing services provided by Lynne Stiegler
Formatting by James Osiris Baldwin – jamesosiris.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
We couldn’t do what we do without the support of great people around us. We thank our spouses and our families for giving us time alone to think, write, and review. We thank our editor (Lynne), cover artist (Heather), and insider team of beta readers (Micky Cocker, Kelly O’Donnell, Dr. James Caplan, and John Ashmore). It’s not who we are as authors, but who we are surrounded by that makes this all happen. Enjoy the story.
CHAPTER 1
West Wendover, Nevada
Buck woke up, opened his eyes, and saw himself in bed. “Why is there a mirror on my ceiling?” He blinked to clear the fog from his mind. The sleeper cab was nice, but sometimes it was best to get a good night’s sleep in a real bed.
Even if there was a mirror on the ceiling and rates were by the hour.
Worth it.
“They must get clientele who aren’t puritans like us,” a voice replied from nearby. Buck tried to focus. Connie. The second bed was ruffled where she’d slept. Big Mac was still curled up over there with his head on the pillow. Buck had paid for two rooms, but they’d only used one because of the red wave. He closed his eyes.
“Anything different?”
“Not that I can tell. Not yet, anyway,” she answered, smiling when she looked at him. He made to get up but stopped.
“Why am I in my underwear?”
“It was dark when we crashed. What’s the big deal?”
Buck had to think about that. He sat up and scratched the growing beard on his face. “You’re up early,” he said. “What are you reading?”
Connie glanced his way and held up the atlas. “I think my internal clock is set to 2003 time. I woke up at four-thirty. While I was awake, I figured I’d try to understand the route you’re taking to go east.”
He pointed out the window, which was toward the rising sun. “We drive I-80 that way. I’m happy to say it is pretty much a straight shot to White Plains, New York. Then we’ll hop in my pickup truck and find Garth.”
“About that,” she said. “It looks like our route goes near Three Mile Island. Will we get irradiated?”
Buck smiled and wiped the sleep from his eyes. “Boy, you get right into it in the morning. It is still over two thousand miles away. We’ll know more once we get closer, but Garth said they told him it wasn’t as serious an accident as they first thought.”
Connie leaned back in her chair. “So, this is over? The storm on the East Coast is gone. The nuclear plant didn’t spew radiation over everything. You find Garth and life goes back to normal for you?”
He detected the worry in her voice, so he slid out of bed, putting on his jeans while Connie giggled. He pulled out a clean Hawaiian shirt from his overnight bag and buttoned it.
“Are you kidding me?” she exclaimed. “Oh my God, it’s terrible! Didn’t your momma teach you how to dress?”
“What, this old rag?” He laughed. “What don’t you like about it?”
His yellow and green shirt was decorated with AK-47s shaped like palm trees and grenades dressed up as pineapples. The guys at truck stops loved it, and he wore it all the time on the road, although he didn’t wear it much in the city because it did upset some people.
“It’s so damned bright.” She continued to chuckle between words. “People are going to see you coming from over the horizon.”
He shook his head slowly. “I need to take a shower. Then we can catch some chow and hit the road.”
“Only one towel,” she told him.
Buck hesitated. “I’ll use my shirt so you can use the towel.”
She leaned back, wearing a confused expression. She pointed to herself with both hands. “You think I look like this before a shower? That’s sweet. I already saved the towel for you.”
“You shouldn’t have.”
“I’m kidding. I didn’t save it because I knew what you would say, big tough Marine. How about you just use my wet towel so we can get some ‘chow,’ as you called it. I hope it looks like breakfast.” She motioned for him to get moving. “And whatever you do, don’t think of that towel all over my naked body. Now shoo.”
Buck’s mouth worked, but no sounds came out. He was rooted to the floor.
“Don’t make me eat breakfast without you.” She pointed one finger at the bathroom and returned to her study of the atlas.
He took three steps to the bathroom door and stopped, then looked over his shoulder and said softly. “I don’t know what just happened, but I like it.” He closed the door behind him.
***
When he finished, Connie had the television on.
Their eyes met for a moment, and she smiled in a way that was comfortable. For her. For him. A movement pulled Buck’s attention away. The fifty-pound puppy was standing on the bed, tail wagging.
“All right, Big Mac, let’s get you outside.”
Buck was glad for the distraction. He needed time to think. He’d told her the truth about being glad he found her, because it felt like he’d known her for a long time already. Almost like they’d been friends all their lives, but they’d been away from each other until this disaster. It was strange but overwhelming. He was too old to be swept away. His mission was to get home to Garth, and that would take all his focus. It was true even in normal times, because the road was a dangerous place. One blown tire could be fatal.
When he came back in, he put some kibble in Mac’s bowl and let him have his breakfast. Connie fiddled with the television while the pup wolfed it down.
The first thing that came on was a local news channel talking about Denver. She changed it immediately because they wanted something more local, like Salt Lake City news. That was the nearest population center.
However, when she found the next channel, the reporters were also talking about Denver.
“What’s this all about?” he said aloud.
The talking head sat inside five or six graphics streaming across the screen. One was a ticker of stock prices, which showed nothing but red three-digit numbers. Another was a temperature ticker with numerous American cities and numbers behind them. Some cities were in triple digits, but others showed negative readings.
“Look at that weather!” Connie blurted. “It explains the snow storm yesterday. Well…” She hesitated, “Maybe it doesn’t explain it, but it does confirm that it wasn’t normal.”
“No, it wasn’t,” he admitted. “This is unbelie
vable.”
The other ribbons on the screen showed news around the world, but he focused on the anchor hemmed in between all the graphics.
“If you are just joining us, we are standing in front of the Search for Nuclear, Astrophysical, and Kronometric Extremes building, which is more commonly called SNAKE around these parts. We have every reason to believe this is where the red and blue waves came from. Aside from the multiple reports from nearby residents, we have eyewitness accounts from several members of the staff of the facility who have told their families what happened.”
“Aw shit,” Buck said with disappointment.
“What is it?” Connie asked.
“It looks like the scientists did it. Their crazy experiments ripped the world a new one, and you and I are the saps who are going to suffer for it.”
Angry protesters held signs behind the reporter. Some of them had simple messages of doom, much like the guy he had seen back in Modesto, but one in particular caught his attention.
The hand-painted board said, You killed us!
“I’ve got to call Garth. I know he’s half a continent away, but I have to make sure he knows not to ever go to Denver.”
“Agreed,” she said distantly.
Lewes, Delaware
His dad’s nyuck-nyuck ringtone woke Garth from a dead sleep.
“Hello?” he said in a groggy voice. “Dad? What time is it?”
The shades on the motel window were almost pitch-black, so he had little clue as to the time of day.
“It is six in the morning here. That means it’s nine there. What are you still doing in bed? You aren’t fooling around, are you?”
Garth detected the “Dad tone.”
“We’re at a motel in Lewes, Delaware. We got off the ferry and went right here like you said.” He thought about what was probably in the back of Dad’s mind. “Lydia is in the other bed.”
Buck sighed with relief but didn’t press the subject.
“We’re getting underway, son. I wanted to touch base with you in case I lose reception again. We’ll be on some remote stretches of interstate today. We’re shooting to be in Nebraska by nightfall.”
“Nebraska? That’s like halfway here.”
Buck laughed. “It feels like it’s still a long way to go. I want you to consider what you’re going to do today. You have the taxi, right?”
He and Lydia had saved the cab from the mud yesterday. “We’ll need some gas, but at least we have a means of getting around. I’d hate to have to walk.”’
Garth observed the lump that was Lydia buried beneath all the covers with a pillow wall around her head. She had been impressed with his driving skills and loved the ride, despite the broken window and the massive thunderstorm they had survived yesterday. She’d told him that despite all their issues on the road, it still beat walking.
“Good,” Buck replied. “It looks like the radiation scare is over. The news isn’t even talking about it today.”
“Is the hurricane gone?” he asked in return.
“I don’t see anything about it. All the news channels we have out here are talking about a science facility in Red Mesa, Colorado, near Denver. It looks like that’s where the blue and red lights came from.”
“Are they going to fix whatever they broke? I think Lydia might like to go back home.” They’d talked about it briefly the previous night, but after she climbed into her own soft, clean bed, she found new enjoyment in modern conveniences. With no one waiting for her in the 1840s, Garth thought she might be more amenable to changing her mind, but everything she had known was gone, and almost none of it had prepared her for the twenty-first-century world.
“I don’t know. We’ll both stay away from there, okay?” Buck suggested.
Garth chuckled. “I doubt I’ll ever be in Denver, Dad. I’m anxious to go home and wait for you to get here.”
“That’s probably the smart thing. While you are in the motel, make sure you watch the news. See what to expect when you walk out the door. Be safe, okay?”
“I will. Love you, Dad.” He and his dad didn’t typically exchange such emotional goodbyes, but the last couple of days made him realize how much he missed his father. They’d had their argument, and he’d been mad as hell for a little while, but seeing the plane crash and too many dead people had made him appreciate how lucky he was. Plus, Lydia was sound asleep, so he could speak openly, although she didn’t seem to care about the things that teenagers of his era thought were important, like their social image.
“Love you too, son. Keep in touch.”
“Will do.”
He hung up his phone and wondered if he had remembered to bring a cell phone charger.
That could be a disaster.
He would check the bugout bag to see if his dad had remembered to pack one, but first, he used the clicker to turn on the television from his bed. He had to check on the world outside the motel’s windows.
The first channel showed a metallic building surrounded by giant red-colored rock walls.
“SNAKE is off-limits to reporters, but there are now hundreds of protesters gathered at the front gate. Oddly enough, there is a contingent of Air Force police guarding the scientific facility. We’ve been unable to get any comment—”
He flicked the channel, careful to keep the volume low, so it didn’t wake up Lydia.
“Protesters have turned over a car on Deer Creek Canyon Road, but so far, that has been the extent of their anger. We’re trying to find the leader of this unruly bunch, but none have come forward—”
Garth went to five other stations—the motel had a full spread of cable channels—and they all focused on what was going on in Colorado. After a few additional channels of non-news programming, he finally found a weather broadcast.
A map of the east coast showed storm systems in random locations, including one apparently mislabeled as a snow shower on the coast of North Carolina, but there were no hurricanes to worry about.
“We can go home,” he said to himself.
And Lydia?
He glanced at her, sleeping soundly. He started to consider how to get her home, but he became distracted by her appearance. She looked different without all the dirt on her cheeks, which had come off in another modern convenience last night: the shower. When she came out of the bathroom with a clean face and her blonde hair streaming over her shoulders, her natural beauty surprised him. Seeing her again reminded him of that.
The thought made him look away.
Stay on task, Garth. That’s what Dad would say.
“Get gas for the car,” he whispered. “Get back home. Wait for Dad. Lastly, I’ll see if I can get Lydia back where she came from.”
Garth took a long look at Lydia to make absolutely sure she was still asleep. Once he was certain, he scooted to the edge of his covers, then ran into the bathroom because he was only wearing his boxers.
They’d been soaked to the core in the rainstorm, and once they got to the motel, they took turns hanging their clothing to dry in the bathroom. They had used towels for robes.
He admitted he was a lot shyer about it than she was.
When he was inside the tiny room, he shut the door.
“I wish you were here, Sam, buddy, but I’m kind of glad you aren’t.”
He figured Sam’s overbearing womanizing would have long since chased her away. She’d probably have preferred to stay under the overpass where he found her.
I’ve got to avoid pulling a Sam.
Garth looked in the vanity mirror and recited his day’s mission.
“Gas. Home. Wait for Dad. Don’t be like Sam.” He paused for a few seconds. “And help Lydia go back to 1849.”
The thought saddened him greatly. As Dad would say, you create a bond with someone you’ve spent your life beside. She was his foxhole partner. Together, they’d pull through.
CHAPTER 2
Search for Nuclear, Astrophysical, and Kronometric Extremes (SNAKE). Red Mesa, Colorado
&n
bsp; It was dawn outside, but the orange light peeking over the distant plains only served as a reminder of how little sleep Faith had gotten in the previous two nights. She looked longingly at the hogback close to her building and wished she could go out and jog for a couple of miles to wake up. On a normal day, that was part of her routine, but General Smith didn’t want anyone to leave for any reason.
“Thanks for working all night, guys. I mean it more than I can say.” She turned to her staff, who were assembled at the conference table. One of the computer guys sat where her name was scratched into the wooden tabletop, but he’d placed his laptop right over it. No one was joking around this morning, and they all looked as strung out as she felt.
Dr. Stafford replied first. “We have a better handle on what was happening before the beam was shut down yesterday, but we still don’t know what to expect going forward.”
Dr. Bob Stafford was the head of Computing, and he was in charge of the handful of computer men and women in the small room. He and Faith had butted heads in the past, but he’d been surprisingly helpful once he’d confessed to having a part in the secret experiment run by SNAKE and CERN. To her, his new attitude suggested things were worse than they seemed.
She nodded at him. “I was helping with the equations drawn up by the physics team. My mind is jelly after all the late-night work, but I can think straight enough to compliment your people, Bob. They were a big help.”
Bob looked surprised. “Well, thanks. Glad to be of service.”
“What did you find?” she went on.
“The beams were designed to pierce the upper mantle of the Earth and effectively dredge for residual dark matter locked into the atomic structure of the rock. Over thousands of miles, the experiment figured to encounter traces of the substance. However, it appears it struck a lot of it.”
Faith took it from there. “And that’s what our equations were trying to solve. Unfortunately, we don’t know any of the properties of dark matter or dark energy, even though the blue beams appear to contain the latter.”
Broad America: A Post-Apocalyptic Adventure (End Days Book 3) Page 1
