End Days Series Box Set [Books 1-4]

by Isherwood, E. E.

  He barely noticed the heat of the afternoon as he sprinted across the courtyard. Why was Pete’s badge black, but with none of the dozens of alarms near that room going off? He thought again of the odds of multiple sensors going out at the same time. Did they somehow hit the 1-in-88 quadrillion jackpot?

  More to the point, was his badge defective? Was he already a dead man walking?

  Carl charged through the doors into the familiar control room.

  “Sound the alarm. We have a leak. A big one!”

  One of the control specialists gave him a sideways glance after checking his board. “But we don’t have any radiation detectors showing a problem. Are you sure?”

  “Pete’s outside of containment. His badge is black, and he’s dead on the floor. Would you like a picture?”

  His team jumped into action.

  The drone of sirens started up a few seconds later.

  “Put containment on the main screen. Let’s see how big of a disaster we’ve caused.” A feeling deep in the recesses of his stomach told him the meltdown in 1979 was going to look like a dance party compared to the one today.

  “Get me the governor,” he added with gravity.

  “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

  Fourteen

  Manhattan, NY

  Garth and Sam led the small group up the steps and out of the subway, but once they reached the sunshine on the surface, he lost some of his motivation to go back down.

  He briefly pointed to the stairs at the subway exit across the street. “Should we go over there and see if anyone needs help?” Garth’s tone said the opposite. If the fallen wall was narrow, maybe only the one guy got hurt. But if the collapse was bigger, there could be lots of injuries.

  “Think we should make sure emergency vehicles show up?” Sam suggested.

  “Right,” Garth said with relief. “That’s smart. All those people dialed 911. I’m sure they’ll be here soon enough.”

  They would not commit to anything more.

  Pippi and her parents strode by while they debated the issue. Garth smiled, but the girl didn’t seem as interested in him as she was in getting well away from the subway entrance. He felt the same way.

  Garth studied the busy street. Cars and trucks crowded the narrow avenue like any other day. Pedestrians walked by like nothing had happened below their feet. “Shouldn’t there be a cave-in or something from where the rock fell?”

  Sam shrugged. “Doesn’t look like it.” He pointed to the E 60th Street sign on the corner. “Only sixty blocks to the battery.”

  Garth did a double-take. “You want to go home already?”

  Sam got serious for a moment, then cracked up laughing. “Dude. I’m messing with you. I’m not walking sixty blocks. That’s like twenty miles!”

  He shook his head in a feel-sorry way. “It’s barely five from the battery to Central Park. We are one block more. How could it be twenty miles?”

  “What are you, Magellan, now? How am I supposed to know how far it is?”

  “Is this what we’ve become? I’m the brains, and you’re the…” He couldn’t give him a compliment. “You’re the plucky comic guy.”

  Sam whipped his arm around like he was going to playfully strike, but he held up at the last moment. “Yeah, I like that. I’m the comic relief to your lame-ass science talk. We can be like a team. Sam and the Garbage Man.”

  “Son of a bitch! You know how much I hate that nickname.” Sam never used it in a derogatory way like some of the assholes at school, but he still didn’t like hearing it from his best friend.

  “Nothing rhymes with Garth, yo. What else can I call you?”

  He kept his mouth shut. If he picked a better nickname for himself, it would mean he could never use it. Sam would never stand for Garth having a better one. It was part of their friendly competition.

  “How about our duo is Garth and the AmperSam? Sounds better to me.” He had to explain what an ampersand was the first time he used it, and he assumed he would hate it, but Sam rolled with the nickname like he did everything else.

  Sam grabbed his arm and dragged him along Lexington Street. “How about we don’t use nicknames and simply agree I’m the funny one? Once people see that old-school ‘cake is a lie’ shirt you wear, they’ll come to the same conclusion on their own anyway, right?”

  Garth’s dad had gotten him the orange T-shirt a few years ago, but he kept wearing it because he liked it, even if the meme was long dead, and the threads were well-faded.

  Sam laughed as he hopped over a ventilation grate on the wide sidewalk. It was one of the active ones that smelled like death. Garth got a face full of the mist but held his breath until he was clear.

  “So, what should we do?” Garth inquired. “Take a cab?”

  “We have all day. We’ll just see what happens. Besides, do you have enough money for a cab?”

  “No,” Garth replied. His wallet had about five bucks and one 30-day Metrocard. The former would buy him a small bottle of soda at any of the high-dollar delis in the area. The latter allowed him to ride all over the city on the subway at no cost. Dad bought it for him before he left because he knew the boys would need to get to the airport to meet Sam’s parents, but Garth might as well have tossed it in the trash because he wasn’t going down in those tunnels again.

  “Walk it is, then.” Sam looked up at the clear skies. “Besides, I prefer to let the day take us where it will. No plans. No place to be. Just you, me, and the city.”

  “I’m sure your parents will be worried once they land. We should probably get home and wait for the call.”

  Sam pursed his lips in thought but didn’t reply.

  They walked in silence along the block-long storefront for Bloomingdale’s. The squat, ten-story building wasn’t very inviting and barely had any display windows to show off what he couldn’t afford. When free of parents, they’d hang out there and find good-natured trouble, like pretending to get eaten by the escalators or daring each other to go to the women’s unmentionables section and ask the help what those tiny scraps of lingerie were for. However, after several adventures inside lately, it was now a fifty-fifty proposition they’d get kicked out on sight. Sam’s inability to laugh at a reasonable volume also made him an easy target.

  When they finally reached 59th Street, Sam tested a look over his shoulder and became uncharacteristically serious. “What do you think the hand was all about, back there? Why did the wall move?”

  Recognizing the moment, Garth tried to be serious as well. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen or heard of anything like it.”

  “I was kind of joking about it being fake. There’s no way that could have been planned, you know? Who carries a hand in their jacket just to stick a one-in-a-million gag?”

  He nodded, then looked back up the street toward the subway entrances. “There still aren’t any emergency vehicles. Do you think we should go back?” He allowed Sam to talk him out of going back down, but Garth didn’t like the idea of not helping.

  Sam broke into his personal space and stood painfully close. “I’ve got to admit something, G. I can’t go back. I can’t see the hand again. I can’t.”

  He pushed him back a step. “It’s okay. I don’t think I can, either. I almost got hit by flying crap at the airport, then we almost get decapitated in the subway. I think someone has it out for us.”

  “What do you mean? Some angel of fate is trying to Final Destination us to death?”

  “Fuck, dude, don’t say it like that. No, I mean we’ve been super lucky today. I say we make our way south toward the ferry but keep our heads on a swivel. If someone is out to get us, we have to be ready.”

  Sam was all over it. “So, to quote Star Wars, we want to have some fun, but not look like we’re having fun.”

  “That’s a loose quote, but yes. Let’s stay away from the subway and we should be good to go. We’ll hoof it the whole way if we have to. What can hurt us just walking around, minding our own business?”


  “Nothing,” Sam replied with a growing smile. He looked like he was going to step into the street to cross it, but he doubled back and cracked Garth on the upper arm the way he liked.

  “Thanks, man,” Sam said in his serious voice. “I was gonna lose my shit if you wanted to go back into Lexington Station to see smashed or sliced people. I don’t want to be a wimp, but that was too messed up for me.”

  “Me too,” he readily agreed. “That’s why I tossed my breakfast. Have no fear. There’s no way we’ll see anything worse today.”

  In his head, Garth imagined the universe’s response to the bold proclamation.

  Challenge accepted!

  I-5 near Stockton, CA

  Buck didn’t dwell on the police officer’s gun a second longer than necessary because it would only piss him off. The trooper opened his car’s passenger door and leaned inside, presumably to file his paperwork and issue the numerous citations Buck deserved for trying to do a good deed.

  His mood changed when he saw his puppy in the window.

  “Hey, Mac!”

  Buck hopped up to the passenger door and opened it a crack, then he reached in and grabbed his golden friend by the collar. He carried him so he didn’t have to jump from the elevated door.

  “Go make!” he shouted to the dog once he was on the ground, even though he’d already done a number on his front seat.

  Mac ran around looking for grass, but there was nothing but dirt along the highway. The nearby orchards were also devoid of grass or other ground cover.

  “Just go here,” he said calmly as he climbed back into the doorway.

  He looked away to give Mac his privacy. He mopped up the towel on the front seat and tossed it into the back. He wanted to be ready to run with the storm coming, and that included a clean seat for his dog.

  When he was done, he climbed down and stood impatiently. “Come on, Officer. What are you waiting for?”

  The storm lost some of its cohesion as it moved south. It was still fairly linear where the clouds met the interstate, but the eastern part of the storm seemed to move faster to the south, giving it a hook.

  She’s flanking us.

  He looked back to the officer, but he was still dinking around in his car. There was nothing Buck could do to express his feeling of helplessness except pace back and forth.

  Mac made his deposit and came over to the step. Buck did their usual procedure and opened the door.

  “Up, pup,” he said.

  Mac’s toenails rattled on the metal step as he hopped from it to get into the cabin. Despite the difficulties getting down, he had no problems climbing back in. Buck shut the door and stood on the gravel, looking up. A second later, Mac got on his hind legs and pawed at the window, as if to sensibly suggest Buck get his butt in gear.

  “I’m coming, buddy. We have to wait for this jag...”

  He held his tongue and canceled the word “off” as the officer sidled up next to him.

  The trooper was not amused. “This jag-what?”

  Buck feigned a laugh. “Judge Advocate General? Like from the TV show? Didn’t I see you on there?”

  The trooper gave him a stony stare.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I was just joking with my dog.” He pointed to Mac, who was doing an impression of a lovable TV star. He licked the window and let out a single bark to try to help Buck out.

  The officer spoke slowly, as if unsure of Buck’s intentions. “I’m going to need to see your logbook and registration papers.”

  Buck wanted to scream. The wind blew through his hair as if to remind him what was on its way.

  “Officer, you can follow me ten miles thataway and I’ll provide whatever you need, but the storm is coming right for us and I’m scared for our lives, I’ve got to tell you.”

  The officer didn’t look back. “Yeah. I’ve seen it. We’ve got plenty of time before you get your hair wet.”

  “There’s lightning and shit!” he said excitedly. He pointed behind the trailer to the approaching system. The top of the storm disappeared into the atmosphere, but the base was still a few miles away. Lightning strikes reached out from the front sheet of precipitation and dust, like the Psycho guy reaching through the shower curtain with a deadly knife.

  “Look, bub, I don’t appreciate the backtalk. I might have let you go with a warning if you hadn’t just called me a jagoff. That’s very disrespectful.”

  Buck saw what was going on. The young officer was one of those guys who needed to be top dog. Running a strip of highway as a trooper was one way to get it—no one with any sense would try to dis him. Except dumbasses like Buck.

  “I’ve got nothing but love for you, sir. I have a son not much younger than you. I’ve always taught him to respect the law above all else, and I’ve failed to live up to my own lessons. I’ll take five tickets if you let me drive ten miles toward safety.”

  A monstrous spiderweb of lightning traveled over the orchard next to them. An instant slap of thunder came with it.

  “Fuck me!” the officer yelled.

  Wind grabbed the trooper’s hat and carried it into the southbound lanes of traffic where another big rig immediately crushed it.

  The guy shook his head and seemed to consider his position. “I need to write you a citation. It’ll be quick. Quotas, you know?” He hustled off without waiting for a response from Buck.

  His ears began to buzz. The hairs on his forearm stood on end.

  “Aw shit,” he drawled.

  Buck climbed the passenger side and held Mac out of his way. Lightning struck again with an instant crack of thunder behind it. He jumped in surprise, but the Golden Retriever lost his marbles during the endless rumble. The dog went out the door before Buck could shut it.

  “No!”

  Spurred by fear, the dog launched from the cabin and dropped the four feet to the dirt. Buck had been worried the jump would hurt him, which was why he always helped him down, but he stuck the landing like a well-trained Olympian.

  “Mac!” he yelled from the open door. “Get back here! COME!”

  Mac barked angrily like he was telling the storm who was in charge. If he heard Buck use the magic word for return, he didn’t show any acknowledgment.

  More lightning struck close. Mac heard it and made a quick right turn. That put the wind at his back, and he seemed to float away with all the debris in the air.

  Buck had never felt so helpless.

  Fifteen

  Wollemi National Park, New South Wales, Australia

  Destiny stumbled out of the trees hoping to find her team waiting for her, but when she came into the clearing where all the tents were supposed to be, no one was there.

  “What the piss?”

  The sprawling campsite had been abandoned. The tents and no-see-um nets were gone. All the tables were cleared off, and the firepits were cold. The trucks weren’t there, either.

  She blinked to see if her eyes registered the scene correctly, but dehydration had followed her out of the smoky fire. Her eyelids scraped her eyeballs with the weird dryness of a cat’s tongue.

  Oh my god. I’m so thirsty.

  She went into the middle of the open space and stood there like she’d gotten lost.

  “Hello?”

  She hoped against all odds this was all a big mistake, and the rovers would race back to pick her up.

  Her voicebox was as dry as the rest of her. “Please.”

  She had the mental fortitude to pull out her phone and tap to the instant messaging. She picked the first name in her Recent list.

  “Susan,” she mouthed. “Help me.” Susan was in charge of the support team. If someone moved the camp, she would know where it went. And why.

  She texted words to that effect, then tried to keep her eyes from gluing shut as she watched patiently for a reply.

  A minute went by before she tried another name.

  Darrien Bobbs was next. He was one of the grad students, from the UK, but he was in his late 20s and
had a bit of sense to him.

  “Come on, Darrien.”

  She sent the text, then waited.

  A few minutes went by as nothing happened on her phone. The dull gray smoke of the fire drifted high above, but it wasn’t as thick on her side of the hill. That allowed the morning sun to peek through and brighten things up.

  She sent text messages to everyone in her phone when she realized those first few weren’t going to answer. She cut and pasted the same message over and over.

  ‘This is Dez. At Wollemi. Need help. Respond plz.’

  With each entry, she became more despondent.

  “Where is everyone?”

  She was ready to fall over with exhaustion and thirst when she finally had the mental clarity to see there was no network service at her location.

  “Well then, why the fuck did you let me send them?” She intended to scream at the world, but it came out as more of a dry hiss.

  Her eyes fell on a small mousepad. Someone had tossed it in the tall grass in the middle of the field. She groaned when she bent over to pick it up.

  “Oh no.”

  The white pad bore the Sydney Harbor Foundation logo, which was a kangaroo with a Mohawk hairdo resembling the distinctive Sydney Opera House.

  “They left me.” She was hardly able to speak.

  Destiny threw the pad back down and noticed some of the nearby treetops were on fire. Debris drifted on the wind, some of it ash and sparks, so the threat of fire stayed with her. But she barely found the energy to care.

  Water became her primary mission.

  She didn’t have far to go. The campsite was ideal because it backed up to a small creek that ran down the valley. One of the group’s “fun” activities was sending a few lucky people down to collect water in blue Jerry cans and carry them back for everyday use. She didn’t mind as much as some of the others because she wasn’t a complainer.

  A final challenge met her at the stream. Since she spent the bulk of her life researching animals in the bush and deserts of the deadliest continent on Earth, she knew the risks of drinking water straight out of the ground. But she didn’t have a filter, water purification tablets, or a pot to boil it.