Primal Shift: Volume 2 (A Post Apocalyptic Thriller)

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Primal Shift: Volume 2 (A Post Apocalyptic Thriller) Page 8

by Griffin Hayes


  Tapping the water pipes to keep them hydrated was Russell’s idea. This was, after all, a place he’d spent years of his life working. But even he knew the measure wasn’t more than a temporary stopgap.

  The water filling up the jug was brown with floating bits of rust. Carole sealed the valve shut and brought the water back to the group. She took a soft white T-shirt they’d snatched from Victoria’s Secret, folded it once, and stretched it over a large white bucket. This would act as a filter to siphon out most of the larger impurities. When she finished, the first to drink were the youngest; Tamara, Jessica, and three other young girls. Then the adults.

  “Here,” she told Callahan after the kids were done. “For saving our lives.”

  “I’d like to think that anyone woulda done the same,” Callahan said.

  Russell disagreed. “Don’t be so sure.”

  “If you’re thinking about Wipers,” Carole said, “they don’t count. They’re barely human anymore.”

  “Oh, they’re human,” Callahan said, passing the cup back to Carole. “Just the worst parts. I’ve got firsthand experience, trust me. For a while there, I didn’t think our boat crew would make it out of San Diego alive. We piled everyone into Humvees and those old soft-top troop transports. We were looking for a sign of someone, anyone. Hell, we woulda been happy simply knowing what had happened. One part we were sure of, this hadn’t been some kinda boom boom event.”

  “Boom boom?” Holly asked.

  Callahan brought his hands up in the shape of a mushroom cloud.

  “See, we didn’t think there was anything wrong with people until our convoy was attacked. They used a road block to stop us and ambushed our guys from the surrounding buildings. Our own citizens firing on us with every kind of weapon you can imagine. Everything from arrows to AKs. Sure, we killed a lot of them, but what did it matter when they just kept coming? This one kid came charging out at us, firing an automatic rifle. I was in the back of one of those transport trucks, and the men inside were getting riddled to the point light was pouring in through the holes in the canvas roof. Anyway, I leveled my weapon hoping the kid would scatter back into the rubble, but instead the stupid punk pulls the trigger.”

  “So, you killed him,” Carole said, unable to get the image of Aiden out of her head and the knowledge that soon that little boy would be him.

  “I wish he didn’t make me, I really do. We were fighting for our lives.”

  “That’s the problem with Wipers,” Russell cut in, taking another swig of water. “They don’t give you the option of acting civilized.”

  Carole saw clearly enough that Callahan still didn’t know what had happened to the world. So, she told him everything she knew about The Shift and the effect it’d had on the minds of nearly everyone on Earth.

  “Hell, we thought we’d entered the damned Twilight Zone, but after hearing this I’m not sure what to think.”

  “Ideas like civilization, rule of law, and respect for your fellow man,” Russell said before tilting the cup back for a another sip. “They’re nothing but fancy ways of describing a world built on memories. The only reason we have ‘em is because we spent so long killing and raping each other. But what happens when all that common sense, lessons built on eons of atrocities and ethnic cleansing, disappears overnight, eh?”

  “Hell on Earth,” Callahan replied.

  Tamara was fiddling with a loose thread in her shirt. “Maybe the Wipers have to learn those lessons all over again,” she observed.

  Russell chuckled, and his frame, thick with tradesman’s muscles, shook. “Not before they manage to kill everyone, including themselves, I’ll bet.”

  “Maybe this isn’t the kind of conversation children should be listening to,” Carole interjected. “Besides, our focus should be on getting everyone here to safety.”

  Callahan nodded. “I think Carole’s got a point.”

  Russell tossed the cup back into the bucket. “I’m all ears.”

  “There’s a place I know that’s a few miles north of the city,” she said.

  “Oh, not that again,” Russell interjected. “For all we know, the Wipers have razed it to the ground.”

  It was becoming obvious to Carole there was something wrong with Russell. His attitude had become more and more negative since his capture by Alvarez. Was this his way of mourning the loss of Josh? Did he blame her for the death of his friend? Or did he feel that Callahans’ presence was a threat to his authority? Then it struck her.

  “You don’t wanna leave here, do you?” she asked him, point blank.

  He sat up immediately, as though she’d accused him of being the Grand Wizard of the KKK. “Sure, I don’t wanna leave, but it’s not like we have any goddamned choice, do we? That’s what’s boiling my blood the most, not to mention the fact that we have no clear idea if this Rainbowland place you keep talking about even exists anymore.”

  Callahan suddenly looked very worried. “Rainbowland? Sounds like one of those Facebook games. You remember, the one with the candy?”

  Jessica nodded enthusiastically. “I used to love that.”

  “Look,” Carole said. “I don’t know for certain, but our options right now are pretty limited. Either way, we won’t get far without some sort of transportation.” She looked to Callahan.

  “The Humvee was pretty banged up, but I can try it.”

  “What about you, Russell?”

  He sighed. “I do remember seeing a truck one street over. I’m sure it still has lots of gas left since the back was open and the engine wasn’t left running. Everyone should fit inside nicely.”

  “I gotta say, I’m still not sure about this Rainbowland place,” Callahan said.

  Carole tried to smile and found the act almost painful. “I’m sure you’ll like it just fine, granted we make it out of here in one piece.”

  Jeffereys

  Alvarez was in his suite when Jeffereys knocked on the door. Most of the Wipers were scrambling through the neighborhood, checking every building they could for signs of the escapees. They’d tracked the two thieves along with the military man who was with them to a convenience store nearby, but it was there that the trail had gone cold.

  It was the middle of the day now, but inside Alvarez’ room, the curtains were drawn shut, as was usual. A glow from dozens of candles gave the room a warm, almost holy glow. Anita was on her knees with the boss’ pecker in her mouth.

  Jeffereys coughed and then knocked on the door when it was clear they hadn’t heard him. Alvarez turned and saw who it was, yanked his hips free from Anita’s grasp, and closed the silk robe he was wearing. Anita glowered at him, and Jeffereys couldn’t tell if she were angry they’d been interrupted or if she’d been turned on that he’d seen what they were up to.

  Al was tightening the strings as he waved Jeffereys in. There was a tent in his robe, and Jeffereys suddenly felt even more uncomfortable.

  “Don’t mind us,” Alvarez said. “Anita and I were just exercising. Isn’t that right, Dear?”

  Anita grinned and sauntered into the bathroom.

  “Now, tell me you have some good news.” Alvarez grabbed a violin case off his dresser and made his way over to the couch. He opened it slowly, waiting for Jeffereys’ explanation.

  Jeffereys swallowed hard. “We’re still looking for them, but they can’t have gone very far.”

  Alvarez crossed his legs and brought the violin up to his chin. “I see. So, you’re telling me that three unarmed people managed to escape our entire force?”

  Maybe it was the candles, or the strange melancholy song Al was playing on that fiddle, but Jeffereys was suddenly feeling very warm. “Not quite escape,” he said, “but evade, temporarily.”

  The violin sagged in Al’s hands. “Are you playing word games with me?”

  “No games, no games. I’m telling you these people are slippery and might have been living right under our noses for a while, undetected.”

  “Yes,” Al agreed. “They were
coming for the food, weren’t they? And how else would they know we had it unless they’d been watching.”

  “Exactly, which is why I think they must be nearby.”

  “Under our noses, you said.”

  Jeffereys nodded.

  “What do we have in the floors beneath us?”

  “We don’t know,” Jeffereys replied. “I mean, we’ve never been down there. The access door is sealed shut, and we haven’t been able to open it.”

  One of Alvarez’ eyebrows perked up. “They managed to sneak in somehow. Have a group check the ventilation system, in particular the grates. If any of them aren’t screwed in firmly then you have your point of entry. Have another group get that door open. I want to know what’s down there.”

  Alvarez stood up and ran a hand through his greasy hair.

  “There’s one other thing, and I think you’re gonna like this.”

  “Uh, huh.” Alvarez was checking his nails.

  Jeffereys snapped his fingers, and two slavers entered, carrying an unconscious man in blue and gray fatigues. A name tag on his chest read, Lewis.

  “This was one of the men helping the thieves. We found him in a Humvee. Another man in civilian clothes was beside him, dead.”

  “A Humvee, eh? Hmm ... ”

  “I thought you might like that.”

  “And what about our friend here? Is he still alive?”

  Jeffereys grabbed a chunk of Lewis’ hair and lifted his head. “Barely.”

  “Well, see to it he gets better. Then you can torture him to find out where the other men in his unit are based and what kinds of weapons they have access to. If they’re not willing to share, then we can’t very well have them helping those hippies in Rainbowland.”

  Jeffereys snapped his fingers, and the slavers dragged Lewis’ limp body away. “You should know that they’ve changed the name to New Jamestown,” Jeffereys said, and hearing the news brought a grin to Alvarez’ lips.

  “That so? All the more reason we’ll need to ensure they suffer the same fate as their namesake.”

  Finn

  The Ely State Prison grounds were positively immense. A high fence topped with razor wire formed a perfect square around the prison grounds. At each corner, towers stood guard. Finn and Joanne were approaching a parking lot located just outside the perimeter fence when they saw that it was only half full. The hoods from many of the cars were propped up, probably the result of scavengers looking for batteries and other spare parts. A sight that made Finn more than a little anxious.

  “You think people are living here?” Joanne asked.

  “Not sure,” he replied, still scanning. “If so, I hope they’re friendly.” They rolled up to the main gate, and that’s when Finn heard the man’s booming voice.

  “Halt!”

  He hit the brakes, and when the car skidded to a stop he saw a figure appear from the gate house, weapon drawn. It was an M-4 and the man was dressed in blue and gray fatigues. Another troop appeared and approached the car, holding a pistol in one hand and a Geiger counter in the other. He made his way around the entire vehicle, watching the needle on the device for any signs of radiation.

  “They’re clean,” he told his partner before turning back to Finn. “This is a secure facility. Where have you come from?”

  The troop had a strong New York accent.

  “We didn’t think you guys were still around,” Finn said. “What’s the Army doing headquartered in a prison?”

  “We aren’t Army, sir. We’re U.S. navy, and you haven’t answered my question.”

  Joanne leaned over. “We drove three hours from Utah. We’re here to get information on two former prisoners.”

  The sailor tipped his cap at her. “I’m sorry for your trouble, but we aren’t allowing ... ” The walkie-talkie on the sailor’s belt came to life, and the voice said, “Let them in.”

  “Yes, Sir,” the sailor replied. He replaced the walkie on his belt and waved to the other man to open the gate. He leaned in the window and pointed straight ahead.

  “Please make your way to the main complex.”

  Joanne thanked him, but Finn didn’t move right away.

  “Aren’t you gonna go?” she asked.

  Finn wasn’t sure. When they first pulled up, a part of him had been relieved to see the military. Maybe it was the thought of voluntarily returning to a jail cell he’d escaped that was making him uneasy. Joanne urged him forward, and Finn shifted into drive and entered the prison courtyard. They parked where the sailor had indicated, and Finn reached into the duffel bag that was perched on the back seat and came out with a handful of .30-06 cartridges, stuffing them into his pockets. He then stepped out of the car and slung the rifle over his shoulder.

  “Aren’t you being a little paranoid?” she asked. “It’s the Army.”

  “Navy,” Finn snapped. “And I haven’t heard of anyone dying from being over prepared.”

  Joanne shook her head teasingly as two new sailors approached them. Finn was just waiting for either man to attempt to confiscate his rifle or tell him he’d have to leave it in the car. Wouldn’t have taken much more than that for him to get back behind the wheel and drive away, with or without the information he’d been searching for. But they didn’t. Instead, the taller of the two, a man with the name Kulik and the letters XO embroidered on his uniform said, “Commander Zhou would like to see you.”

  When they entered the prison and found Zhou, he was seated in the visitors area, focused on fixing the misshapen brim of a cowboy hat. The room was filled with sailors and equipment, all seemingly centered around Zhou.

  “A Texan shouldn’t ever sit on his hat,” he said without looking up. “Did you know that in some parts of the state it used to be punishable by up to 30 days in the county jail? Guess I’m in the right place.” Zhou smiled as he stood, his teeth all white and perfectly straight. With nimble speed, he flung the hat aside and held out his hand. Finn took it. Afterward, Joanne did the same. There was a slight twang in the way the Asian man spoke. Sounded like a country boy or a cattle rustler. He wasn’t very tall either. Maybe 5’4”or 5’5”, slight build, his hair cropped short like the men around him.

  “Commander Andrew Zhou,” he told them, waiting for Finn and Joanne to introduce themselves, which they did. He flashed his infectious smile again. “I know that look in your eye. It’s the one that says ‘I wanted Commander John Smith or Captain Buck Rogers, but all I got was a Chinese guy from Texas.’” All three of them laughed, if a little uneasily. “My parents immigrated here from Hong Kong in the ’60s. My real name is Li Yong, but my parents had this thing about fitting in, Texas being what it was in those days, so they changed it to Andrew, after the 17th president.” The commander laced his fingers together and cracked his knuckles. “So, now that we’ve melted the ice a little, I need to get down to brass tacks with you folks. First, I need to know where you came from and how many survivors are currently at that location.”

  “I’d ask you the same thing,” Finn replied. “In case you haven’t noticed, there isn’t any United States anymore. Fact, I’d be surprised if there were any countries still around.”

  “Well, we both want something. I think we can agree on that.”

  “That sounds about right.”

  “So, why don’t I go first,” Zhou said, sitting back down, “since we still have a ways to go before trusting one another. The men you see around you are the crew of the Navy sub USS Alabama. We were passing Cape Horn on July 4 when all communication went dead. Down about 500 feet beneath the ocean when it happened. We surfaced to re-establish contact. Trying to call home, just like E.T., but no one was picking up. The most likely scenario was an equipment malfunction, and so we headed back to Point Loma in San Diego, but it wasn’t till we caught a glimpse of the shoreline through our periscope three weeks later that we knew we were in trouble. Buildings charred from fires that had been left to burn out of control and not a single sign of life. We also started picking up high l
evels of radiation. Wondered if the world had gone and nuked its ass back to the Stone Age while we were under the waves. At that point, we weren’t sure. We moved up the coast and saw more of the same and so, running low on supplies, I turned us around and set course for Loma again. We left the ship in full hazmat gear, every man armed. Myself and 155 stepped off that ship. Now, we’re barely half that, and I’m sure you know why.”

  “The Wipers.”

  “Wipers?” Zhou asked. “That what you call those sonsabitches?”

  “Their ship was underwater when it happened,” Joanne told Finn. “Must have shielded them from the effects of the reversal.”

  Zhou was staring at Joanne like she’d suddenly sprouted three heads.

  “The Earth’s magnetic field flipped,” Finn explained. “Happens every so often in nature, but never all at once, not like this, and it did something to people’s minds. Wiped them clean. Turned them into animals.”

  Zhou was nodding. “Wipers, I like that. How’d you know about the magnetic reversal?”

  “Long story. The lights in the sky. They’re mostly gone now, but that was our first clue. Some of us, like Joanne and me, were only partly affected. Which is why we’re here, to put some of those pieces back together.”

  “I see, well, for your sake, I hope none of those pieces are west of here.”

  “Why do you say that?” Joanne asked him.

  “Because every nuclear power plant in the country’s in full meltdown right now. A big part of the reason we’ve been heading east. Based on the prevailing winds, there are only a few safe zones left in the country. One of those is Salt Lake City.”

 

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