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

by Wendell G. Sweet

  One part of his mind listened to Gary, and the other part kept chewing at him about the way he had accepted the feeling that something had changed along with everybody else. He couldn't reconcile it with the way he was, but he also knew that he had changed a great deal in just a very few days, and, he supposed, that had been what had allowed him to accept it.

  "...nothing last night?"

  He only caught the tail end of what Gary had said, and was about to ask what he had said when Gary repeated it on his own.

  "No trouble? You saw nothing last night? Sorry," Gary said and smiled, "I hate to presume that you didn't hear me, but you seemed a little gone there for a few seconds. You okay?"

  "Guess so," Frank said, with a sigh, "I'm just trying to figure out what the hell's going on. Everything's changed, and it's almost like living in the friggin' Twilight Zone. Feel this, just happen to know that, it doesn't make a hell-of-a-lot of sense to me, and that guy, that Jeremiah Edison guy, he's one spooky friggin' guy too. He's Maggie's ex-husband, Maggie's dead ex-husband? How the hell am I supposed to be able to buy that?" Frank shook his head from side to side. "Does he really know what's going on? I just don't know, Gary, I just can't accept that God's come back, and some big fight's going to take place for everyone who's still alive. I mean... well... do you buy that crap?"

  "I don't know," Gary said quietly, "but I think it'd be pretty naive to sit here and think that nothin's going on. I mean that would be stupid. Do I believe God's involved? Do I believe that Jeremiah Edison is your baby sitters long dead husband?" he shrugged his shoulders uneasily. "I can't say. I don't believe I've made up my mind yet. But I do think it's pretty damn obvious that something's going on here, and it ain't got much to do with normal things, if you get my drift."

  "Oh yeah, you're getting drifty all right," Frank responded, "but... well, do you think it’s God, or something like God?"

  "Maybe, maybe not. I think... Yeah, I guess I do think it's at least something unexplainable. No, that ain't right. I guess I do think it's like God or something. Hell I don't know. A God-like thing? Some sort of higher power? Maybe that's what I can explain it as. Sounds sort'a ridiculous even putting it that way though."

  "I get you," Frank said, "it's the same way I feel. It's like something I can't put my finger on, and that's why the bastard's chewing at me. Gary nodded quietly. "I guess though, that I have to say I can at least accept the higher power thing," Frank continued, "it's about the only damn way to explain things, I guess. Well, maybe more like simple good and evil. Maybe that's what it's more like to me." He paused when he realized that he had begun to ramble, and had never answered Gary's original question. The whole thing, as far as he was concerned, left him filled with doubts. Talking about it didn't remove the doubts, and if anything seemed to magnify them.

  "Anyway," Frank continued. "No. Nothing at all happened last night. Not even the noise that they usually make. I didn't see anyone, and I didn't hear anyone either. Stay quiet back there?" he indicated the down-town district by wagging his finger in the general direction.

  "I don't know about quiet. Most everything was sort'a quiet, I guess. That Jeremiah was pretty much talking all night. I don't think it does any harm, you know, but... Well, I can't put my finger on it. I guess I sort'a think it might be doing some good," he shrugged his shoulders noncommittally. "I guess, Frank, I'm in the same boat you are. I ain't totally convinced one way or the other. The only thing I am convinced of is that we're on the good side. I mean," he seemed slightly embarrassed, "the side of good."

  "That's about my feeling," Frank said, "you can bet your ass if it wasn't I wouldn't still be here. I'll tell you something about Jeremiah though, something that makes me want to believe him," Gary raised his eyebrows as if asking what, "he doesn't talk like a Bible-thumper, or a... What's the word I want? I don't know, I guess he doesn't sound like one of those guys that come knocking on your door telling you, you need to be saved or something. I think that, for me at least, swings me toward the believing side; you know what I'm saying? Another thing, he makes no excuses at all. I mean he isn't saying higher power, he's saying God. Period, no maybes, but God. At the least I think he's convinced, and you gotta admire a man with convictions that strong; that unshakable. It swings me a hell of a lot closer to believing it, but at the same time pushes me away. I guess I always thought that I'd know somehow. That somehow I'd be able to tell one way or the other, but I can't. It's pretty damn confusing to me, and I can't tell what the hell I even feel about it...Help me out here, Gary."

  "No need to, Frank, you're doing fine on your own. I ain't got any great insight into it that you're somehow missing. I'm in the same boat you are. I don't know, and I don't know how to know. I guess what I'm saying, for me anyway, is that I need a little more proof. I believe, and I mean this sincerely, that we all, those of us who stayed behind that is, made a choice the other night, no doubt there at all, how 'bout you?"

  "I'll give you that, not grudgingly either," Frank said, "I knew I was making a choice. No doubt at all, and I knew it was a choice for good, or the good side. That still doesn't completely clarify it for me though, but it does makes me pretty sure that I can at least make an uninfluenced decision. At least I don't think I was influenced. I mean, Jessie was right there next to me, and I can't tell you how... Afraid I was... Well, honestly, I was afraid; you know that she might go. But, I made up my mind that even if she did, I wasn't. I was staying. I guess... Well, It isn't like it's a big secret, and it also isn't something she and I are trying to hide... That we... Well, that we care for each other," Gary nodded his head. He had seen it, probably even before the two of them had realized it. That's the way it goes though, he told himself. It's always easier to see a thing if you're on the outside looking in at it.

  Aloud he said, "Yes I saw that, and I have to say honestly I wasn't too sure which way you were going to go. I watched you, and you looked to be torn between the thing. Tough position to be in, Frank, for sure, I ain't so sure I would have wanted to make that kind'a choice. I ain't sure how it would've gone, I guess."

  "It was close for me, for a second," Frank admitted reluctantly, "it's been an awful long time since I've cared one way or the other about a woman. I really thought, to be honest, that I was done with that part of my life. Standing there though, I realized I wasn't. I realized I didn't want her to go. Not that I think she feels the same, I-I don't really know," he seemed confused for a second. "I guess I'm kind of dense when it comes to women. I mean, I don't purposely try to be, it's just that I can't tell. How do you tell what a woman's thinking, Gar?"

  "Don't ask me. I believe men are made stupider, is that a word? Well even if it's not, I guess you get my meaning. I don't know any more than you know. I suppose though that it's the same for a woman. How do they know? Intuition or something?" Gary shrugged his shoulders and smiled. "Seems to me though, that the feelin's mutual," he smiled again as he saw Franks face flush deep red, but looked away after a second, and switched the subject back to the barricade.

  "So...nothing at all last night, huh?"

  Frank took a deep breath, glad that Gary had changed the subject.

  Frank Morgan was a thoughtful and kind man, even a good man, although he did not always think so. But his feelings had always been a hard thing for him to get a handle on. "It was dead quiet, like I said. It sort of spooked me, I had this rifle," he hefted the machine gun that he still held in his right hand, "well, machine gun I guess, and you can bet your ass if they had started some crap here, I wouldn't have hesitated to use it. Not that I would want to have to, but..."

  He let the statement trail away. He was thinking about Jessie of course, but he was also thinking about the others that had made the trip as well. It bothered him a little that they all seemed to look to him for advice. At first he had not known how to respond. He had been, and still was, sure that they were looking to him to lead them somehow. The responsibility weighed heavily upon him, but he would not try to throw it off.
>
  "I get you," Gary said, and Frank had the feeling, that he always had with Gary, that he really did understand. Gary seemed to be able to look straight into a situation, and was not afraid to speak his mind, Frank knew. Just as everyone looked at him to lead, they looked to Gary for advice. His manner of speaking may have made him seem to be uneducated, and consequently stupid, but Frank knew better. There was a vast amount of knowledge and intelligence lurking behind the small town speech patterns he communicated with. He was far from stupid.

  "Still," Gary continued, "the time's gonna come when we have to shoot. I can feel that. It ain't a long ways off either. They're gonna come, and I think we really have to be prepared for it."

  "How so?" Frank asked.

  "Well... I guess for one thing, we got to keep up this road block. I'm not sure it'll do us a lot of good if they really want to get through it, but maybe it'll give us a warning when they do come. Another thing is, we have to get everyone organized, and that goes back to what we were talkin' about a few minutes ago. If we all don't see eye to eye, so to speak, we're not all gonna stand shoulder to shoulder. If we're divided over who to believe, or who's right about the way things are..." he paused and gestured helplessly with his hands before he continued, "Either way Frank, it's a division, and I don't think we can afford to have it. I ain't saying we should just say to Hell with it, and he's right, Jeremiah Edison, I mean. But if we're gonna disagree on things, I think we might better keep it to ourselves. Together we stand, divided we fall, as the saying goes. I guess I just butchered that quote, but there's a good piece of advice there for us, I think. You agree?"

  "Yeah," Frank said. "I guess I didn't look at it that way before, but I've got to admit you're right."

  A young man, Frank's replacement, walked up as Frank finished talking, and Frank handed him the machine gun as Gary said, "Couldn't hurt to hear him out entirely, could it?"

  "No," Frank said, as they walked away, "It’s probably a good idea."

  Together they walked away from the road block, and back toward the downtown section. Frank did not relish the idea of talking to Jeremiah Edison, but Gary was right, and, as he himself had agreed, it couldn't hurt. Could it? He wondered.

  Watertown

  Luther

  To the north, less than 200 miles away, Luther sat at the computer terminal in the small room, deep underground and stared at the monitor.

  The screen still flashed its simple message, over and over again.

  Armed!...Armed!...Armed!

  He enjoyed watching it flash on and off. It was soothing, mesmerizing even, he felt. He giggled out-loud as he thought of what he had told Willie. Ain't gonna do it, in an imitation of George Bush. It was too funny, he thought. Although Bush wasn't President any longer, and had not been for several years, Luther found him amusing.

  He wondered, and not for the first time, how he could have known about George Bush. He hadn't been here had he? Certainly not when Bush was President. Who gives a fuck, he decided. The point his mind was making to him, was how funny it had been to watch Willie squirm, and knowing all the time that he had lied about the missiles. He had every intention of using them, and much sooner than he had led Willie to believe. Who cares, he thought, certainly not me, they can't hurt me so fuck it.

  It pissed him off, in a way. He would prefer to be able to do it on a personal level. He couldn't though, and wasn't that a real bitch? That old bastard that called himself God had somehow fucked him again, he realized, and that wasn't fair, was it? Why was it that he could only have someone else do, what he himself wanted to do? It really sucked, he thought.

  "What a fuckin' cheatin' bastard," he said aloud. He stared at the terminal and frowned. "Well, makes no difference, cheatin' or not, I'm winning, so there!" He turned to the body of the young girl, which hung suspended from several eye hooks protruding from the wall behind him, and stuck his tongue out as he finished speaking.

  At least that had been enjoyable, he thought. Although he had not been able to inflict any of the wounds that covered her body himself, he had been able to force someone else to do it for him. He had derived a great deal of pleasure from that, as well as from the actual torture she had endured, before she had finally given up and died.

  "Oh me oh my!!" he said as he looked her body over, with his black eyes, "Oh me oh my, indeed, wasn't that soooo nice? Yes indeed," he responded, answering himself.

  He turned his attention back to the computer terminal and it’s flashing message. He had every intention of entering the codes, and launching the two missiles that were buried deep within the underground caves somewhere, very soon. Where were they buried? He didn't know. It was a question he had asked himself before, but had not found an answer to. He just knew that they were there, and that he would send them when the time was right.

  He had wondered briefly if he would be able to send them, at least when he had first sat down before the terminal anyway. But the terminal had accepted his codes. It had allowed him access, so that must mean he would be able to put in the last section of code and send them, right, he asked himself.

  "Of course, of course," he muttered aloud, "just one more small line of code, and Kaboom!" he yelled aloud in the small room.

  He had no real doubt that they would launch, and no doubt that they would end his problems for him. Nothing like a good old nuclear bomb to set things right, he told himself, as he grinned at the computer screen with its flashing message.

  ~

  Two miles away at the grating that covered the fresh air venting Willie had ordered cut away in order to reach the outside; several small vine tentacles slowly crept inward toward the interior of the ducting. The water level which had been lapping at the iron grating just the day before, was now several feet below the opening.

  Joe and Becky

  Several miles to the west, just outside of North Platte Nebraska, Becky and Joe had given up trying to decide what to do about the conviction they both held, that thing's had already started, and that they may be too late to help, or finish their part. They were not even sure what their part was. Joe was only sure that Becky figured into it somehow, and because he was so sure of that, Becky had also become convinced of it.

  As darkness closed in, they had both turned quiet. Becky had begun a small dinner over the coals in the fireplace, they had hastily thrown together earlier that morning when they had arrived, and Joe had walked over to the truck and occupied himself with checking the mechanics, making sure that nothing had been damaged the night before as he had driven.

  Several times he had driven over debris in the road, but in his haste to put miles between them, and whoever might or might not have been back in Kimball, he had ignored it. He had also become convinced during the night as he drove, that they were being followed. He had kept glancing into the mirrors, sure that he would see glowing headlights closing in on them from behind. It had not happened though; the road behind them had remained empty all night as he had driven.

  He had another thought as he stood looking over the truck. What if they had done something to this truck? He wondered. He knew it was irrational, there had to have been over a hundred trucks on that lot, and...How would they have known to choose this one? And if they had, wouldn't something already have happened?

  In spite of how ridiculous it seemed, he checked the truck over anyway. There was one small gouge in the front passenger fenders paint, probably due to some of the debris flying up and hitting it. But other than that the truck seemed fine, and none the worse for the hurried trip of the night before. He pushed it from his mind as he walked away from the truck, and back to the fire.

  Becky was stirring a stew like mixture, to keep it from burning on the hot coals.

  "I think it's ready," she said as he approached the fire, and squatted down beside her. "Hungry?" she gave him a small spoonful to taste.

  "Oh yeah," he responded, and rubbed his stomach with one hand to show her it was true. He sat down close to the fire, and turned his
thoughts away from the truck. Instead he thought of Becky. Funny, he realized, just a few seconds ago I was down, and all she had to do was talk to me and I feel better.

  "You know I love you, right?" Joe asked, staring into her eyes.

  "Yep," She said, and kissed him fully on the lips.

  "Hey," Joe said, looking serious, "better cut that out unless you want that stuff to burn."

  She scooped some stew into two tin bowls before she answered him.

  "Better eat first, babe, you'll probably need all the strength you can muster!"

  Joe smiled as he took the bowl, and arched his eyebrows suggestively. Becky sat down next to him, and they began to eat as the last traces of light seeped from the sky.

  SEVEN

  Frank and Jessie

  Frank's mind kept returning to the conversation he'd had with Jeremiah Edison two days before. He walked quietly beside Gary as he replayed it not really ignoring what Gary was saying, but not entirely tuned into it either.

  "Frank, you're spacing out again," Gary said.

  "Sorry," Frank replied, "thinking about that Jeremiah guy again. I never saw a picture of Maggie's husband... Sort of wish I had though. Can you believe, or I should say, do you believe what he said about being her husband?"

  "Well, I'll tell you, it ain't as far-fetched to me as it is to you, Frank. I ain't so sure that there's much of anything I could consider far-fetched anymore... I guess if you've read your Bible, and I suppose you have, there's Lazarus. He got raised from the dead, although they say he was a pretty odd fella after that. I don't know, honest and truly I just don't, but I can't rule it out. Nothin's normal anymore, Frank, nothin' at all. You still gonna talk to him again?"

  "Yeah," Frank answered, "feel like I have to. He said if I was interested in talking he could prove it to me, and I guess I'd like to see him put his money where his mouth is. I don't know what the hell he could possibly do to prove it, but... hell, it can't hurt to listen, right?"