End Days Series Box Set [Books 1-4]

by Isherwood, E. E.

  She was keen to peel out of her clothes and take a nice, long shower, so she tossed her phone on the bed to get undressed. It landed face-up and a message appeared on the lock screen.

  “What the hell?” The text had come in a couple of hours ago but must not have triggered a notification. It was from her sister.

  “Dez, please listen. I have terrible news. Have you seen the blue light? I’m sure you’ve heard of it. Well, it came from here. From SNAKE! I know. It’s crazy. I’ve read the news. They say people and things appear to come back from the past. Planes are falling from the sky. Storms. Earthquakes. Everything in the news today was caused by us. I’m sure of it. Please. Please. Please. Stay in your flat. Stay safe. I’m going to make an announcement in two hours to help the world understand what we did. I love you, sis. Talk soon.”

  Her body was spent. The shower suddenly didn’t seem important. She wanted to fall over in bed and go to sleep. Wake up tomorrow and have her life back.

  Instead, she dialed her sister. She did the math in her head. It was one in the afternoon Sydney time, so it was eight in the evening in Denver. It didn’t matter, though. She’d wake up her sister even if it was the middle of the night there.

  A man answered. “Hello?”

  She tensed up. Something was wrong.

  “Is Dr. Sinclair there. I…uh, have an exciting offer for her concerning firewood.” She bit her knuckles to keep from saying anything more. Her time with the wood hoarders had rubbed off on her.

  The man was not amused. “Who is this?”

  She hung up without saying another word.

  The phone rang immediately. It was Faith’s number, but she tossed the device on the bed.

  “This is all wrong. The whole day has been wrong.” Faith’s message spooked her. She backed from the bed like the phone was going to jump up and make her answer.

  “People and things from the past?” Stephen and Christian acted like throwbacks with their old Commodore, complete with tape deck. But they weren’t from the past. They were just backward.

  The Tasmanian tiger.

  Her breath caught as she put that piece into the puzzle.

  The phone rang again.

  Destiny flung around to put her back to the person trying to contact her. She required some time to think of how it all fit together. Standing near the window, she grabbed one of the drapes and made like she was going to close it, but she stopped immediately when something didn’t look right.

  “Drop me on my ass and call me Humpty.”

  Her apartment came with a wonderful view of the Sydney Harbor. But it wasn’t the view she had grown accustomed to.

  The familiar white half-moons of the iconic opera house were gone. The wall of the foundation below it was gone as well. The dock attached to it disappeared, too. In fact, the entire complex had been returned to a natural rocky point, trees and all.

  The Sydney Harbor Bridge stood tall over the empty shore, but it appeared lonely without its famous friend.

  “Faith, what have you done?”

  Staten Island, NY

  Garth and Sam made it home, but it took several hours of sitting in traffic to do it. With Dawson far behind, they didn’t worry about being attacked by the maniac again, but it wasn’t exactly smooth sailing. Since Garth was driving a cab, several pedestrians tried to flag him down and get inside, especially when he was stopped at lights. Garth solved the problem by having Sam sit in the back and pretend to be a paying customer.

  It was ten o’clock by the time he pulled the cab around the back of his house and turned off the engine.

  “At least we’ll have an easy ride to the airport, tomorrow,” Sam suggested as he got out of the back.

  “Yeah, great idea,” Garth replied. As soon as the engine was off, he pulled out his phone. “I’ve got to let Dad know I’m home. I’ll leave out the middle part where we got into a batch of bad cologne.” He laughed, finally letting air out of the stress he’d built up while driving the stolen cab.

  “You can tell him. Just don’t mention I almost crapped my pants.”

  Garth taunted his bud. “Hey, why bother talking at all if I don’t mention that?”

  Sam socked him on the arm through the driver’s open window.

  “Dude! That one hurt.”

  Sam laughed at his usual obnoxious volume. “I know. It’s a thanks-for-driving award.”

  “For future reference, cash is appreciated.” He pointed to the fare meter, which had been running the whole time. It was well over two hundred dollars. “Give me a second to text Dad, okay? Then I’m gonna kick your ass.”

  “Bring it,” Sam replied, his cockiness returning in the safety of Garth’s home.

  Garth typed on his virtual keyboard. “Hi dad. Home safe. Can you talk?” There was more he wanted to say, but he’d save it for the call. Before he put it back in his pocket, he scanned for voice messages, but there were none. He felt a little let down, like his dad couldn’t be bothered, but he knew it was unfair. Dad had to drive all day—a fact he now appreciated a lot more after his own time behind the wheel.

  The phone rang the instant it returned to his pocket. The ringtone was a “Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk” laugh from Curly of the Three Stooges. It was Dad’s ringtone.

  He got it back out and picked up immediately. “Dad!”

  “Hi, son,” Dad replied. “So, you’re safe back at home? Did you get my messages?”

  “I just checked. I don’t have any messages from you today.”

  “Hmm. I sent…a few. Look, I’m in nowhere California. A place called the Pole Line Motel near Mono Lake.” Dad sounded tired. “It’s been a strange day, to say the least, since the blue light went overhead.”

  “I saw it, too!” Garth replied. “Sam and I watched it go by while we were at the airport waiting for his parents. After it left, a plane crashed right in front of us. We were almost hit by flying debris. It was crazy.” Garth went right to fifth gear and talked a mile a minute. “Then we almost died in a subway crash, we were chased by a woman with a broom, and we…”

  He slowed down when he thought of Dawson. His dad would think it was irresponsible for staying with the mad driver for as long as they did, and it would be hard to explain the finer points.

  “And we found a cab with its door open and the keys inside, so we borrowed it to get home in the fastest way possible.”

  Dad switched to interrogator mode. “You stole a cab, son?”

  “The subways got shut down. It was our best bet to avoid walking, and I knew you’d want me home without delay.”

  “That’s true. I saw cars with their doors open, too,” Dad said as if he’d struck on an important fact. “It can’t be a coincidence. Something is wrong with society. I know it now.”

  Sam chose that moment to knock over some trash cans.

  Dad heard the noise. “What’s wrong? Is someone attacking you?”

  Garth laughed. “No, it’s just Sam being Sam. It’s dark here.”

  “Dammit, son. Listen, I’m not on the highway right now, but tomorrow, I’m going to get back onto Interstate 80 and then I’m going to drive the 80 all the way to White Plains. Then I’m getting in my pickup truck and coming straight there. Do you understand?”

  “I do, but what do you mean by something is wrong?” It had been a messed up day, but he figured it was only him. If his Dad was experiencing similar issues... “What have you seen?”

  Buck sighed on the other end of the line. “The news is all over the place. Plane crashes, yes, but also weird shit like that Malaysian airliner coming in for a nice landing like it hadn’t been gone a day. I ran into a giant storm here the weather service said formed because several storms appeared on top of each other at the same time. There’s another storm on the East Coast, too. Have you heard of it?”

  “Audrey?” Garth answered. “Yeah, we heard some guy talking about it in the city. Said it’s kind of a lame rainstorm coming up the coast.”

  “It’s not lame, son. Lis
ten…” Dad sounded unsure what to say next. “If the storm is like the one I survived, you’ll have to go in the basement and hunker down. I think that’s the best thing.”

  “I have a cab,” Garth said hopefully. “I could drive west on highway 80 and meet you in the middle. It would get me away from the storm.”

  Sam heard those words and replied, “I’m not leaving. My parents are coming home!”

  “Sam’s not leaving,” Garth repeated to Dad.

  “Son, look. That’s not a bad idea, except you are fifteen and don’t have a driver’s license yet. I—”

  “Hey, I drove across the city without any problems,” he said a little too defensively.

  Dad laughed in a friendly way. “I have no doubt you can do it, son. I’ve seen you drive. You’ve got a good eye for the road. But if you get pulled over in a stolen cab, you may get tossed in jail until I can come get you out. Jail is no place to be when the shit smacks the fan, if you catch my meaning.”

  Garth spun the whole conversation on its butt. “Dad, I’m sorry for what I said to you last week. I really didn’t mean any of it. I want you to come back.”

  “Man, I’m glad to hear you say that. I’ve been thinking the same thing, and I’m sorry for how our last visit went down. I even bought you something as a peace offering.” The phone went silent for a few seconds before Dad spoke to someone on his side. “Say hi, Mac.”

  A dog barked through Dad’s handset.

  “That’s my good buddy, Mac,” Dad said proudly. The dog barked again.

  “You got me a dog? What kind is it?” Garth was excited now. They’d talked about it for a long time, but he’d never expected it to happen.

  “It’s going to be a surprise for when I get home,” Dad teased. “But I promise you’ll love him like I do. Listen, now. I need to tell you something.”

  Garth concentrated as his dad outlined how to get into his gun safe. His stomach clenched as he heard words like rifles, handguns, ammunition boxes, and self-defense. Over the years, Garth had watched his dad clean numerous firearms in the basement, and they’d been shooting in the pine barrens lots of times, but Dad was talking like bad guys would soon be knocking at the door. It changed everything.

  “I understand,” he replied after several minutes of description.

  “Son, I love you more than anything in the world. Whatever happens, use the good head God put on your shoulders and remember the things I’ve taught you. The blue light has people freaked out. When people get scared, they do stupid things. I’m not saying it will get bad there, but I want you to be ready if it does. That’s all.”

  Dad didn’t want him scared, so he tried to breathe deeply and stay calm.

  “I’m good, Dad. We’re going to get Sam’s parents in the morning, then we’ll stay here until you get back.”

  “Am I on speakerphone?” Dad replied.

  “No.”

  “You’re almost grown, Garth, so I won’t tell you what to do, but I would think long and hard about going out again. Sam’s parents can catch a cab home on their own, you know?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “And I love Sam like a distant son, but he has a tendency to, uh, how should I say this…”

  “Find trouble?” Garth suggested.

  “Yeah,” Dad chuckled. “Just don’t let him cause any problems for you when things are so serious, okay?”

  Too late.

  “I hear you,” Garth answered. “I won’t.”

  “Good. I’m hoping I’ve eaten a bad hamburger and everything will go back to normal tomorrow. Then we can laugh about this in a few days when we’re out fishing together.”

  “Sounds cool, Dad.”

  Dad cussed under his breath before speaking into his phone.

  “I’ve got to go, the motel guy is yelling at me. Talk to you tomorrow, okay? I love you, and I’m coming home for you. Bye, son.”

  The line clicked off.

  “I love you, too,” he said a few seconds later.

  Garth was home safe and snug for the night, but he had a lot to think about. His mind reeled with the information his dad had unloaded on him about how to secure the house. It was almost too much.

  Sam showed up a second later as if he’d been waiting for him to hang up. “I bet I can drink a whole two-liter of Mountain Dew tonight.”

  Garth smiled at his best friend, but shook his head slowly, as if seeing Sam through new eyes. His phone call had been about cracking into gun safes and preparing for doomsday. Sam wanted to spend the night doing the usual—playing games, drinking soda, and watching funny videos.

  Somehow, he needed to find a middle ground between the two extremes.

  “I’m sure you can,” he said in a friendly voice. “But let’s get inside before you get us into any more trouble.”

  I’ll see what tomorrow brings.

  Pole Line Motel and Gas Station, Mono Lake, CA

  “I’ve got to go, the motel guy is yelling at me. Talk to you tomorrow, okay? I love you, and I’m coming home for you. Bye, son.” Buck clicked off the line while the motel proprietor came storming at him.

  For a fleeting second, he considered pulling out his pistol to stop the apparent threat, but the man wasn’t armed with a proper weapon. He was, however, waving a hundred-dollar bill.

  “You! Stop filling your tank!”

  Buck put up his hands in mock surrender because he’d finished up while on the call with Garth. “I can’t take the gas out, Mr. Jenkins.”

  Fred stopped near the front corner of his Peterbilt. “You swindled me. This bill is counterfeit.”

  “No, I got it from the ATM at my bank just this morning. It’s good money, sir.”

  “How can it be good money? Ben Franklin is too big, and it says it was printed in 2019.” The man held the bill so Buck could see the date. Sure enough, it was printed last year.

  Buck laughed. “And here I thought you were serious. That’s a great joke.”

  “What’s so funny?” Fred pushed back. “It is…” He paused to do the math in his head. “Twenty-nine years off. Tell your counterfeit guy he really blew it.”

  Mac’s nails scratched the window above him, so Buck gave the pup a little wave. That seemed to catch Mr. Jenkins’ eye.

  “Don’t you dare leave. I’m calling the police.”

  This guy is nuts. What did I do wrong to deserve a whole day of crazy people?

  “Okay, hold up. Do you have the internet? I can show you online Ben Franklin is the correct size. Easy.”

  “Internet?” the motel worker asked. “We don’t have anything like that here. We ain’t like your fancy cities, or wherever you came from.”

  Buck didn’t take it personally. He lived in the city but wasn’t a city boy. “I have other money. I can give you smaller bills if it would make you feel better.” He reached for the wallet in his back pocket.

  “No,” Fred snapped. “I don’t trust you with phony cash.”

  Buck became worried. He’d gotten off the phone with Garth and advised him to stay out of jail. Now he was in danger of breaking his own good advice. “Sir, this is really a huge misunderstanding. I’m a professional trucker. I’d get fired from my job if I went around passing bad bills. Please let me pay with a credit card.”

  “I only take checks and cash.”

  Buck kept some checks in the logbook with all his other paperwork. Since he traveled all over the country, it paid to be prepared for every type of payment method. If he ran out of cash, and phone lines for credit cards were down, he’d have his checkbook as a final fallback. It had happened two other times over the years.

  “I have a checkbook. How about I pay for the gas and a room, and I’ll give you a nice tip to pay for your time out here talking to me. I’m telling you the truth. This isn’t anything illegal.”

  Fred Jenkins appeared poised to run back into the motel, but Buck spoke before he left. “I’ll pay the check before I park my truck. That way you’ll see I’m serious about staying. Wha
t kind of idiot would stick around if he was paying with fake currency?”

  The motel operator became more relaxed.

  “You can even keep the bill as collateral until I leave.”

  It was the kill shot he needed. Fred finally showed his crooked teeth with his smile. “I can do that, I guess. Tomorrow, I might have to call my brother, though. He works at a casino in Reno. You can imagine, he knows everything about fake money.” It wasn’t meant as a threat; the man sounded curious about the new bills.

  “Sounds good,” Buck answered in a noncommittal voice. He didn’t plan to stick around for extra scrutiny. He’d write off the hundred as a business expense if it meant he could leave at sunrise tomorrow without ever talking to Mr. Jenkins again.

  Buck took care of the payment and parked the truck. He spent some outdoor time with Mac by walking him around the trailer during one of his inspections. When satisfied his tractor-trailer would hold together for the next day, he fed the pup his kibble and took a short break to breathe in the fresh air and admire Mono Lake. The round lake was a hundred square miles of blue in the drab, arid desert of the California-Nevada border region.

  Not a bad place to visit.

  As dusk fell, he used the key to get into his room. He didn’t bother asking Fred if his motel was pet-friendly. It wasn’t in the best shape anyway, so a little pet fur wasn’t going to ruin the place.

  “Ask for forgiveness, not permission, right, Mac?”

  The Golden Retriever ran into the room and jumped on the first of the two beds, just like he did in the sleeper.

  “Oh, you want this bed? I think you got the best one.” He playfully pushed the dog over on his side, which made him spring back up, ready for another push. Buck repeated it many times until Mac barked.

  “Whoa! We have to keep it down.” He flopped down on the bed next to his pal and scooted his way up to the pillow. Mac laid down next to him, leaving a microscopic amount of room between them. When he was able, Buck pulled out a jerky treat and put it in front of Mac’s nose.