Primal Shift: Volume 2 (A Post Apocalyptic Thriller)

by Griffin Hayes

  Larry nodded absently.

  “There was one thing Romeo said that you should know about. His exact words were “You tell Larry that if he doesn’t want his dirty laundry laid out for everyone to see, then he better do something about this.”

  Now Larry’s face was really squished up, and there was no hiding it. If word got out that Larry had read through sacred scriptures he’d stolen from the cult safe and used those to blackmail All Father, it could unravel every ounce of trust he’d built up in the last two months. But would anyone believe a lazy-assed kid in the process of being ejected from New Jamestown? The key, Larry knew, was to take care of this quickly and quietly, so the kid wouldn’t have an opportunity to get on a soap box and start spilling his putrid guts. More than that, he knew that anyone who ventured beyond the walls after dark and without a weapon wouldn’t last long.

  “Send him out tonight,” Larry ordered her, right away sensing the hesitation in Dana’s body language and pushing through it. “Romeo’s lies are nothing more than a cancer that can’t be allowed to spread.”

  “So, this whole business about cracking the basement safe and messing with the cult’s sacred scriptures to get dirt on Peter. None of that’s true, right?”

  “Is that what that little prick’s saying?” Larry spat, trying to sound indignant.

  Dana nodded. She seemed to be waiting for his denial.

  “Lies, all of it.”

  She grinned and said, “That’s what I thought,” her gaze holding on the faded booklet before him as she pulled the door closed.

  Carole

  It was quickly becoming clear that Russell and Josh were about to be marched underground and into the pits where they’d certainly be killed. One of the Wipers prodding them along was the woman from the lobby Carole had seen earlier, her hair shaved on the sides and spiked into a Mohawk.

  Judging by Aiden’s belligerence, Carole was growing more and more certain she wouldn’t be able to convince him to leave with her. Nor did Aiden seem to have any clue where his sister, Nikki, was. Thus, Carole had a choice. She could either slip away while the Wipers around her were focused on Russell and Josh and the sick Roman-style gladiator match they would soon be thrown into, or she could do something else. Something crazy.

  Carole took a deep breath, which quavered in her lungs with the rhythm of her pounding heart, and then rose to her feet. In a way, it was she who’d gotten them into trouble when she insisted coming up here in the first place. She knew the risks. Understood that they were high and was willing to pay the price.

  “Take me instead,” she shouted.

  The Wipers turned, even Alvarez, still grinning at the parade of new victims. Carole glanced down at Aiden and saw his hand was on top of hers.

  “What are you doing?” He only mouthed the words, but she got the message all the same.

  “Trade me for them,” she said.

  Alvarez clapped his hands and then banged his cane. “This keeps getting better and better.” Beside him, Anita was rocking back and forth as though she were getting ready to lunge. “Settle down, Darling, there’ll be time for that later,” Alvarez told her.

  The Wipers escorting Russell and Josh had halted, waiting to hear what Alvarez had to say. He cleared his throat. “I’m a man of honor. A distinction I’m sure anyone here will attest to. Well, maybe only the few who speak English. Don Quixote was famous for bravely charging windmills he mistook for dragons. A foolish man, yes, but he had heart nonetheless, so I’ll tell you what ... ” He peered down at Carole with ink-black eyes. “You do have a name, don’t you?”

  “Carole,” she heard herself say from a million miles away as though she were speaking into a plastic tube.

  “All right, Carole. I’ll tell you what. You win in the pits against an opponent of my choosing, not only will I let you go free, but I’ll even spare your friends.”

  “I have your word on that?”

  Alvarez bellowed laughter. “What do you take me for, a common thug?”

  Clearly, she didn’t. Instead, she stuck out her hand so he could shake it. Alvarez stared at it with disdain, as though Carole were holding out the tail end of a stinky fish. “It’s better for you that I don’t.” He tapped his index finger against the arm rest of his skull encrusted throne, and a thin trail of white smoke rose into the air. The look of fear on Carole’s face was immediate and unmistakable. Alvarez looked like a man, but Carole was quite certain now there was nothing human about him.

  •••

  Within minutes, she’d been roughly ushered into the pit through the underground entrance. Above her, the crowd was rabid with anticipation, filling the air with chants and cackles in the strange broken English the Wipers spoke. Russell and Josh were positioned next to Alvarez. That’s when Carole locked eyes with Aiden, perched forward in his chair. He’d felt so incredibly abandoned by her when she fled the airport. The boy’s anger was understandable, but it was clear he didn’t want his mother dead. An enormous Wiper with a single arm handed her a 3-foot two-by-four. Cut into the base was a crude handle, and it suddenly became clear this was a bizarre cross between a sword and a club.

  Heart hammering wildly in her chest, her throat parched, Carole scanned her surroundings. The pit itself wasn’t larger than a racquetball court. Set into the wall at either end were iron gates from which the fighters emerged. Carole was swinging her club like a baseball bat, trying to get used to the weight, the crowd above nearly deafening, when her opponent entered the arena. It was the woman with the Mohawk from the lobby, her face painted to look like a skull. She had a nearly identical weapon, which she appeared to wield with little effort. The muscles in her arms were taught. In the Old World, she might have been a Pilates instructor or a personal trainer. Here, she was a killer. Without warning, Mohawk charged at Carole with a terrifying cry, the two-by-four poised over her head. Carole didn’t even know the fight had begun and quickly ducked out of the way. The two-by-four buried itself in the earth wall. Mohawk yanked it out and spun on her heels just as Carole reached the other end of the arena. Instinct had taken over, and it had mandated that staying as far away from this crazy bitch was the only chance she had. Mohawk tossed her weapon from hand to hand, spinning it around in a show of skill. Skill with any kind of weapon wasn’t something Carole possessed. But what she lacked in skill, she made up for in determination. Another charge from Mohawk with an overhead blow, and Carole blocked it by raising her club. The vibration sent jolts of pain through her hands and nearly made her drop the weapon. Mohawk was winding up for another strike when Carole swung her club, connecting with the side of her opponent’s head. Mohawk staggered back, blood running from her ear. She dabbed at it with the pads of her fingers, and when they came away red, her face contorted with rage. Carole took a deep breath.

  Oh, shit, now she’s really pissed.

  A savage flurry of strikes followed from Mohawk. Carole was able to block two of them and dodge a third, but one blow struck her in the arm with the force of a truck. Clutching her two-by-four, she could already feel her arm starting to throb with pain. But to lose her weapon was to lose the fight, and to lose the fight was to lose her life as well as the lives of her friends. She ran to the far side of the arena to buy herself some time. Pulling in heavy gulps of air and never quite able to get enough. Hands reached through the fence to grab at her. She was in a nightmare, she decided. A nightmare like in those movies where if you died in your dream, you died in real life. Mohawk approached her slowly and with confidence as though she were stalking a wounded animal and didn’t want the hunt to end too early.

  Except, in reality, Carole was no animal, no one’s victim, and the sadistic delight Mohawk took in maiming others was reason enough to knock her head in. Where before Carole had felt fear, now she could only feel white-hot rage. No way she was gonna let this savage beat her, no way in hell. Carole started to roar with anger, the veins in her neck bulging, her face turning red and contorting with the thirst for vengeance. T
he sight was having an effect on Mohawk. The tiniest hesitation in her step was now visible, like she’d backed a wild racoon into a corner and now that racoon was about to lash out. And that’s exactly what Carole did. With the club leveled over her head, she came out shrieking madly as though she intended to flatten Mohawk’s prickly hair and air condition her skull. When her opponent moved to parry, Carole changed her angle of attack and sent the two-by-four slamming into the side of her face. Mohawk’s legs gave out and she dropped to the ground. Carole stood over her, ready to strike again if the woman dared to move, but she didn’t. Despite the fact that her face bore a perfect stamp mark from where the slab of wood connected with her cheek, Mohawk’s chest was heaving up and down. Far from being stunned, the crowd erupted in cheers. They didn’t care who won or lost. It was a good, entertaining show they were after, and apparently, Carole had given them the best one yet. Even Alvarez was clapping.

  A second later, the metal gate nearest Carole swung open. That same muscular Wiper snatched the weapon from her hand, tossed it on the floor, and then brought her before Alvarez. The look on Josh’s and Russell’s faces wasn’t nearly as ecstatic as she’d hoped it would be. Were they doubtful Alvarez would keep his word?

  “A wonderful performance,” Alvarez proclaimed gleefully. “But you and your two friends came into my home and tried to take what belonged to me.” Carole was certain he was talking about her attempts to convince Aiden to leave, before she realized he was referring to the food stores the men had raided. “So, understand that it’s purely from the kindness of my heart that I’m giving the three of you a 60-second head start.”

  Josh, Russell, and Carole all looked at one another, unsure before they broke into a full run, shoving their way through the crowd, fighting off hands that tried to hold them in place. Looming in the background was Alvarez’ booming voice, and hearing it terrified them.

  “Fifty ... forty-nine ... forty-eight ... ”

  Larry

  “Did you want something to eat?” Larry asked Nikki. “Silly question, ‘course you’re hungry.” He went over to a cabinet where All Father once kept his incense. It was stacked now with his own private stash of premium canned goods. “You probably had beans for lunch.”

  “Wow,” she said, looking over his shoulder. “That’s a lot of food. Maybe about what we have left in the entire pantry downstairs.”

  “This isn’t all for me,” Larry lied.

  Nikki nodded. “I figured that. Especially since there are so many folks who are practically starving.”

  “Uh huh.” Larry was fiddling through a stack of canned fish, oblivious to the plight of others. That was his curse. “How does salmon sound?”

  “Sure,” she said. “Am I in trouble, Mr. Nowak?”

  He laughed, nearly dropping the can opener. “Larry, Sweetie, call me Larry, and no, not at all. I’ve heard great things about you, and I wanted to see for myself.”

  “What sort of things?”

  Larry scooped the contents of the can onto a plate and set it in front of her. It looked like cat food, might even taste like it, but the folks here were so hungry it could just as easily pass for a five-star meal. “Only that sometimes you see things that other people can’t. What’s that funny name they have for it, clairvoyance?”

  She brought a fork full of salmon to her lips and paused before eating it. “Well, it’s not really something I control. Happens all on its own. Sorta like breathing.”

  “Fascinating.” He sat across from her and folded his hands under his chin. “Tell me. What sort of things do you see?”

  “Flashes. Scenes. Most of the memories don’t make much sense except to the person they belong to.”

  “So, you’ve had this your entire life then?”

  “I don’t know,” Nikki said. “I don’t remember anything from before, but my mom seemed to think this was something new.”

  “Carole mentioned you had a brother.”

  “Aiden,” she blurted out before the pain settled into her eyes.

  “Aiden, yes. And what about him? Was he also different after The Shift?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “I’m gonna read something to you, Nikki, and I want you to tell me what you think it means.” Larry flipped the notebook open to where he’d placed a bookmark. He read her the passage about the two survivors “‘fitting together like lock and key. Buried memories only she can see.’ That mean anything to you?”

  Nikki’s eyes were suddenly dilated, and she was looking at him strangely, her head tilted at an odd angle, the way pretentious people sometimes looked at paintings. She was either having a psychotic episode or a really intense daydream. And then, as quickly as it came, it was gone.

  “What’d you say?” she asked.

  “Never mind.” He stood to see her out. She was in the act of rising from her seat when she stopped. “Your dad loved you, Larry. I know you don’t think so, but he did. He just didn’t know how to show it. I could see it in his eyes. How he looked at you when you were a baby.”

  She left after that, Larry thanking her, biting back the stunned expression hanging over his face like wet dough. He locked the door after that, to make sure he wouldn’t be disturbed, and quietly wept.

  Dana

  “Why doesn’t that chicken shit come and do it himself?” Romeo asked. Lou and Dana were there to escort the boy from the compound and leave him outside the gate. Simon was there along with Bud, who sat in the corner, smirking. “Larry doesn’t like to get his hands dirty,” Bud said. “Not if he can help it.”

  “Yeah, no shit.” Romeo was pacing back and forth in the cell. “Did you tell him what I said, Dana?”

  She nodded. “It’s nothing personal, Romeo, we gave you chances to participate just like everyone else. There aren’t enough resources to feed those who don’t contribute.”

  The kid didn’t have a snappy comeback for a very simple reason. Dana was right. He hadn’t been pulling his weight. Instead, he’d been hiding under a cloak of perceived invisibility, certain Larry would shield him from the rules that the rest of the colony were bound by. And why? Because he claimed to have dirt on Larry. Dana wasn’t under any illusion the man was a saint. An exalted ideal that was impossible to reach in a world desperate to tear itself apart.

  Lou tossed a pair of handcuffs to Romeo. “Put these on.”

  The kid reached down slowly and picked them up. Bud was shaking his head. “That Larry sure is one helluva piece of work. You know, he stole my car on I-80 when I got out to help a family who was stranded. Pretty much left me for dead.”

  “I find that mighty hard to believe after what you did to Johnson and Finn,” Lou snapped.

  “Yeah, well we all have our reasons, don’t we? It may be hard for you to understand, but that doesn’t make what I’m saying any less true.”

  Dana rested her thumb on the grip of her SIG. “Only that you failed to mention any of this in the month you’ve been in custody.”

  “No one asked. Besides, who woulda believed me? I see what Larry’s trying to do. Whisk this kid off in the middle of the night so he can’t make a fuss. You’re a smart woman, Dana. Doesn’t that make you wonder just a bit?”

  Outwardly, she was ignoring Bud’s attempts to get in her head. She’d seen what Bud was capable of, and it didn’t matter what his reasons were. A guy like that didn’t have a shred of credibility in a world where your reputation was all anyone had left.

  Lou finally opened the gate and approached Romeo. Beads of sweat were rolling down the kid’s face. His cheeks flushed. “I know what happened to your wife,” Romeo spat.

  Lou stopped. “What horse manure are you shovelling now?”

  “None. I’m being straight up. It wasn’t an accident.”

  Even with his back turned, Dana could sense Lou’s blood pressure rising. After examining the body, Dana’s own finding’s had been inconclusive, and so she hadn’t seen any point in stirring the pot.

  “Not an accide
nt – ” Lou stammered.

  “He’s trying to get to you, Lou,” Dana shouted, although she knew her words probably weren’t penetrating the sudden swirl of emotions clouding his mind.

  “She didn’t die in the river,” Romeo said. “She died while being brainwashed. Larry let it out by accident one day. Said he and Timothy found her strapped to a chair in front of a projection screen with a metal contraption around her head to keep her watching.”

  Lou’d had enough, and he growled, grabbing Romeo by the collar and lifting him nearly a foot off the ground. Romeo’s voice was reduced to a strained whimper, his feet kicking at dead air. “I’m telling you the truth.”

  “LOU!” Dana shouted. “Let him go,” but the big man wasn’t listening. She entered the cell and put her hands on him. “Lou, put the kid down, right now.”

  A sound from outside the cell of Simon scrambling for his rifle. That’s when she noticed her gun was missing. She turned to see Bud holding it. The hammer was cocked. With a flick of his thumb, he snapped the safety back on and spun it so the handle was facing her. Dana grabbed it out of his hands and held it on him.

  “Coulda killed all three of you if I’d wanted to, not to mention bubba over there,” he said, pointing at Simon. “Woulda been free in less than 60 seconds.”

  “But you didn’t,” Dana said.

  “No, ma'am, I didn’t. Even though I suspect Larry will eventually come for me, too, the way he’s come for the kid here. Only a question of time, really. But if I’m gonna be frank, there isn’t much out there to run to. Certainly not Alvarez. Besides, I kinda like it here. Feel safe. Plus the sheriff’s pretty hot.” Bud winked at her, and that’s when Dana holstered her pistol and headed for the door. A bag at her feet contained a handful of crackers and a bottle of water. She picked it up and said to Lou, “All right, it’s time.”

  •••

  Dana, Lou, and Romeo were walking down the gravel path that led to the gate that spanned the bridge. Two wooden towers on either side were occupied by men with high-powered hunting rifles. In a third was a cult member with an AR-15.