Earth's Survivors Box Set [Books 1-7]

by Wendell G. Sweet

  The older man turned to the man-creature,

  "Of what do you wish to speak?" he asked.

  "He would only, that you would abide by what had been agreed upon, in the before time," the dark rider replied. "He would simply that, and nothing more." The rider bowed toward the older man as he finished speaking.

  "Michael?" the older man questioned, turning towards the blonde hared young man atop the magnificent pale steed.

  "We are ready, my Lord," the powerfully muscled young man replied.

  The older man took his chin into his hand, and stroked it as he narrowed his eyes and looked back at the dark rider with the man standing beside him.

  "So it shall be," he said softly, "you may begin... But, remember thou this, I will abide it, but for a short time, and I will take my own unto me."

  "Only those that choose," the dark rider said, in a softly mocking voice.

  "Yes, but harbor no false illusions," the older man replied, "Many will choose."

  He paused and then continued.

  "Three score shall it be then," he said through a small smile. "No more... No less. None shall be allowed to enter in, nor pass the line within the sand, except those who would invite everlasting death."

  The older man lowered the hand he had held towards the night sky as he had spoken, and the dark rider nodded a short agreement. His hands reached down and encircled the creature that had stood beside his steed, and effortlessly, he lifted it up and sat it upon the rear of the horse. The black horse tossed its mane and snorted more fire and steam from its flaring nostrils.

  The older man’s hands moved and as the two began to fade, Jeremiah saw the flesh fall once again from the man-creatures mouth, and tiny knobs of flesh began to move across its body, making it ripple, as if it were on the verge of some great change. The man thing grinned through its sharp rows of teeth as it disappeared.

  "I shall ride with you, Michael," the older man said, as the young man on the pale horse disappeared as well.

  Jeremiah realized they had left the desert when he felt the tops of the tall rows of corn they were walking through brushing against his face. The shadowy outline of a house some distance ahead seemed to be their destination, and as they drew closer Jeremiah recognized the old farm.

  No lights shone through its windows, and all was quiet except the rustling stalks around them. He felt fear rise within him as they drew closer.

  "Do not fear," the older man said, "look."

  His outstretched arm pointed towards the ground, and when Jeremiah looked, he could see Maggie, along with the two children, huddled in the sub cellar behind the heavy concrete door.

  "Kin I go to her, Lord?" he asked pleadingly.

  "Not yet, Jeremiah, we have only just begun our work."

  "Look," he said quietly, pointing towards the heavens.

  Jeremiah's eye's followed as a wide streak of white flame flew across the heavens at a surprisingly fast rate of speed on a northerly course towards the opposite end of the continent.

  They were next standing on a small hill, lifted above a wide expanse of grass. The sun was shining, though it seemed to Jeremiah to be a hotter sun than he had ever remembered.

  The air itself seemed chilled though, he thought. He looked out over the vast expanse of green.

  Large lumbering woolly creatures dotted the land. Tearing up huge amounts of the tall grass that seemed to cover everything in sight with their trunks; filling their endlessly working mouths with it.

  The scene changed...

  The air became hotter and acrid, with the smell of volcanic ash. With the heat, an under stench of rotted and decaying vegetation wafted on the still air.

  A large greenish-black brontosaurus plunged its long neck beneath the still waters of a huge inland lake, and re-emerged with a mouthful of weeds. It lifted its huge head, and seemed to stare directly towards them as it chewed the plants it had brought with it to the surface.

  This scene seemed to melt away slowly from Jeremiah's eyes and was replaced with another. He no longer breathed, but if he had been capable of it, his lungs would have been useless to him.

  Below him a vast land mass was rising from an endless ocean of blue-green water. Jeremiah looked, but could not see where the ocean began, and it seemed to be without end.

  The older man beside him moved his hands, and they began to descend towards the land. As they moved, the land changed; split apart, and the ocean was divided by it, and split into many seas.

  The shapes of continents began to become recognizable to Jeremiah. Clouds roiled, and rolled across the lands, that were still forming and changing.

  They slowed their descent above a small garden that was splitting apart. Pieces of it were left intact on the other land mass's that were drifting away from one another. People of all colors seemed to emerge from the lands, and busily strode across it. Dwellings appeared, and just as quickly disappeared, and were replaced with others. Cave dwellers gave way to primitive native people, who in turn gave way to others.

  Massive buildings began to dot the land, and roads seemed to appear from nowhere and snake across the still moving continents. As the lands seemed to slow their outward movement, they touched the ground and paused, as it changed below their feet to asphalt.

  A young-looking man stood in a dark alley ahead of them, seeming to converse with a young black man, who, Jeremiah thought, was obviously dead.

  As Jeremiah watched, the young man’s eyes flickered to life, and he stood up and began to walk away down the alley with the other man.

  The man, who had apparently raised the young man from the dead, Jeremiah thought, turned in Jeremiah's direction and smiled. Green eyes and sharp rows of vicious teeth glinted in the cold light cast from the streetlights surrounding the area. Jeremiah gasped.

  "He calls his own home to him," the older man beside him explained, as they were torn from the scene before them.

  They were next walking down the steps of an old church; Jeremiah had no idea where they were, towards a broad street that lay in front of them. When they reached the street, the older man turned to gaze back at the building. Jeremiah looked as well, wondering what the importance of the building could be, and as he watched the building seemed to vaporize.

  "My church shall be no more upon the land," the older man declared. "But my heart shall still abide with my people. Michael has saved those that he could."

  Jeremiah next found himself in a large grassy field that stretched away to the ends of the horizon. The older man walked quietly beside him. People lay, seemingly sleeping, in the tall grass for as far as Jeremiah could see, and the magnificent rider-less pale steed grazed calmly among them.

  In the far distance, Jeremiah could see the young man called Michael, moving among the people and awakening them. Other young men moved among the people as well, and they were all dressed, Jeremiah noticed, like warriors.

  Resplendent golden armor covered their bodies, and all carried massive swords, as they walked among the sleeping people gently awakening them. He could see other horses grazing in the field among the people as well, though none were as striking as the one the man called Michael rode.

  Jeremiah blinked, and when he opened his eyes he found himself among the people, who were now standing, and, he knew, waiting calmly for the older man to speak. He looked to his side and saw that Maggie now stood next to him.

  He turned his eyes forward, and saw that a tall young man, with long white flowing robes, had moved to the side of the older man. Jeremiah listened as the young man began to speak.

  The language was the same that he had heard, but not understood, earlier in the desert. This time, he realized, he could understand it.

  The young man, who was now seated on a huge golden throne, opened a large white book that rested on his lap, and began to call out the names that it contained.

  When it was Jeremiah's turn to go forward, he did so without hesitation.

  The love and peace that emanated from the man s
eemed to flow all around him as he walked forward, and when he and the young man had finished speaking, Jeremiah walked away and another took his place.

  It took him a few minutes to realize what had felt strange to him as he had walked away, and his eyes flew open in joy when he did.

  His heart was beating, and when he opened his mouth he was able to draw a breath of the sweet smelling air into his lungs. He felt the rise and fall of his chest and realized that it was true. He could feel his heart beating below his ribs.

  When all were called and had received their gift of life, they each returned and took their former places in the crowd, and when the last had returned, Jeremiah watched as the young man stood and walked away.

  The older man walked to Jeremiah, where he stood beside Maggie in the crowd. Jeremiah noticed that the man seemed to split, and move off in many directions as he drew nearer; the crowd began to break apart, and the people seemed to vanish.

  "Jeremiah... Maggie?" the older man asked, "Are you ready to go?"

  "Yes," Jeremiah replied.

  Maggie had been staring down at the young hands she held clasped before her.

  "Yes," she replied, in a near whisper, as she looked into the eyes of the kindly old woman that stood before her.

  The three shapes seemed to slowly fade away as they walked off into the field.

  THREE

  March 2nd

  Frank Morgan awoke shivering and cold. He lifted his head to find himself lying in a cold, stone tunnel-way carved from the rock. Water dripped and pooled nearby, the low splash amplified by the otherwise absolute silence.

  He wondered for a second where he was: The information did not come immediately. He had been... He had been in the tunnel, stalled within the lines of traffic that were making their way into the underground base. He got to his knees, waiting for his spinning head to slow and then made his way down the tunnel toward a distant light and what he hoped was freedom. He thought as he walked, playing back the last events he could remember clearly.

  At first he had been in the tunnel and the walls had been shaking around him, and the next thing he knew he had been standing in a field with thousands of other people.

  Then he had been back in bed in Seattle, talking to a priest that was sitting on the edge of the bed.

  The priest had been telling him that he had a choice to make. Frank wasn't sure what the choice had been, but could remember telling the man that he didn't want to choose anything. That he just wanted to go back to sleep. That had apparently satisfied the priest, as he had shaken his head and seemed to float away.

  Frank shook his head now, recalling the dream as he wandered down the tunnel-way. He came upon what looked like a doorway set into the rock wall. He tried the handset, nothing. He typed a few random numbers into an electronic keypad set into the wall next to the door. Nothing happened. He turned away, back to the light at the end of the tunnel and what he hoped was warmth.

  He walked in the near silence, listening to the dripping water and the resulting splash. The tunnel turned slightly and a rush of warmer air moved past him. He walked the remaining fifty feet to an opening. Heavy metal bars stretched floor to ceiling. Three bars in the center had been freshly cut. The cuts were not rusted, the small piles of slag still on the floor where they had apparently first fallen. Frank stepped to the end of the tunnel and looked outside.

  A river swept away to the left. Rapids, a few feet below. The river no more than a few hundred feet wide as it swept by. A narrow stone path lead up the cliffs the tunnel had exited from. He hesitated only a moment, stepped out onto the slick rock and carefully made his way upward. Twice the path dipped below the fast moving water level and he had to slow down to make it. The water climbing quickly past his knees, making him sure he would lose his footing the next time he tried to move.

  Ten minutes of careful climbing brought him to the top of the cliffs and the broken pavement of a city street that ran along beside the river. Houses lined the opposite side of the road, once a quaint city neighborhood, now they lay in ruins: Some sunken into their lots, others leaning, a few looking almost untouched.

  He spotted a woman sitting on the curbing three houses down and walked up to her. She tilted her face up to his as he approached. Short black hair framed her face. She was small, Asian, Frank thought.

  "Is this a dream?" he asked when he stopped.

  "No, it's no dream," she replied as she slowly shook her head. "Where have you been since last night? Didn't you hear the noise? Didn't you feel it?"

  “I was trapped...” He glanced back at the river, deciding it was too hard to explain. “... What happened?”

  “We got hit,” she said simply. “The meteor that was supposed to miss us? It hit... Triggered some sort of earthquakes... didn't you see the TV?”

  Frank shook his head.

  “Well,” the woman continued, “that is what happened. They cut in to the TV last night; I was watching... you know, and they cut in and said that the meteor was going to hit... Trigger earthquakes... Yellowstone had already started. It got confusing really fast and then it was gone. The network feed was gone, I mean. Every channel dead. I got a Canadian channel for an hour, they talked about the satellite system being down for days or else we would have known in advance. Called it an extinction event. Then they went off line and nothing. Tried the radio, dead. The internet, nothing would load, that little wheel icon just kept spinning. Then the power went. The house was shaking so bad I was sure it would come down on me so I went outside... Sat there all night long through three or four earthquakes... Two really bad ones. Sirens a few times, fires on parts of the base. I was glad for daylight.” She shrugged her shoulders and scrubbed at her cheeks, and broke into tears. She buried her face back into her hands.

  “The base was destroyed. I mean completely. My home? Gone. My clinic? Gone. I ran a small urgent care clinic just outside the main gate... But it is gone now just like everything else. Dozens of other places too, just gone. Bare earth, churned up dirt, broken bricks, the whole base is like that. I know, I wandered around the base for a few hours before I walked into Watertown. There is nothing left. I never saw one soldier... Not one soldier. Nothing.”

  Frank sat down beside her and put his arm around her in an attempt to comfort her.

  “Is your Family here? Husband?”

  “N-N-No,” she stammered, “Divorced... Long gone,” she looked at Frank.

  “Sorry,” Frank said, “how long have you been out here?”

  “Just an hour or so. I walked into the city and all the way into downtown. There are people there if you want to go down there. I came back. Intended to walk back out to the base.... Like maybe I was mistaken... Maybe they are there, somewhere, I just missed them.” She shook her head and then continued.

  “Last night I came back out to wait for the police after the power went out. Maybe that was the second big quake,” she seemed to think for a second. “Maybe the third, but they never showed up, so I just sat there. I didn't know where else to go.”

  Frank looked around at the empty street. “Listen... I am going to walk downtown... You're the only person I've seen in...” He looked down at his watch to see the display was dead. “Well, I don't know how long, but it's good to see you... do you want to walk back down there with me?”

  “Sure,” she said, as she stood and brushed at her jeans, “no use sticking around here I guess, is there? And I'm not walking back out there to look at the destruction there again, am I? No,” she answered herself. “I am not going to do that.”

  “I don't think so,” Frank said. “I think... you know, that everyone else is probably downtown getting organized or something," his eyes betrayed the worry he felt. He hoped that everyone was downtown getting organized as he had said, but he wasn't convinced himself.

  He stood up as well. “Frank Morgan.” He said and offered his hand.

  “Doctor Jessie Stone,” She told him. She took his hand and shook it lightly as they both walked o
ff down the street towards downtown Watertown.

  They talked softly to each other as they walked, and talking, even small talk, seemed to help quell the fear they both felt.

  “I wonder if the meteor really caused the earthquakes?” Jessie questioned.

  “Maybe. I flunked science, so I really don't know. It couldn't have hit close to us, if it had we'd be dead, wouldn't we, or... dying...” Frank said. “Crazy... I shouldn't have gone there. How bad were the quakes you felt? They did all this?”

  “The earth shook... like an earthquake, but if it had hit close we probably wouldn't be here.” She looked around and then nodded he head. “Hard enough... They did all of this. How far is Yellowstone from here?”

  “Got to be at least a few thousand miles away.” He shrugged. “I've never been there, but it's closer to my home than here.”

  “Where?” Jessie asked.

  “Washington... The state, Seattle... The other coast, right on the other coast nearly,” Frank said. “Close enough for it not to matter.”

  “I guess we're about three, four hundred miles from the coast here,” Jessie said.

  Frank nodded.

  They talked back and forth as they continued into the downtown area. They approached a group gathered together near the public Square.

  “I think we need to check the river levels,” A man was saying as they walked up.

  “No need to,” Frank said. “I just came from there myself. I don't know how high it's supposed to be, but I can tell you for sure it's heading for the tops of the banks. I came damn close to drowning trying to get out of it. If it hadn't been up to the top of the rock ledges on the sides, I wouldn't have been able to get out, and I would have drowned."

  “‘Bout what I figured," The man said, as he looked at the tall man. "Gary Jones,” He offered his hand.

  “Frank Morgan,” Frank said as he shook his hand.

  “Jessie Stone,” Jessie said. “You own the gravel pit? I think a client of mine used to work for you.”

  “Did,” Gary agreed nodding. “It's under water now, I guess I own a small lake... Client?”