End Days Series Box Set [Books 1-4]

by Isherwood, E. E.

  It was lonely country at the best of times, but the snow cover made it seem larger and far more empty than usual.

  “Don’t you live in the desert?” he asked Connie, remembering she lived in New Mexico.

  “No. It’s arid where I live, but not desert at all. I live in Taos, in the mountains.”

  “I’ve been close to there on my travels, but never made it all the way.”

  Mac was back on the floor, but he’d found a comfy spot in the tight space in front of Connie’s seat. He yawned like Buck and Connie were keeping him awake.

  “You are missing out. It’s beautiful country. A lot better than this hellscape.” She pointed out the window. “Though maybe this does have a stark beauty.”

  “This is Beans, come back,” chirped the CB radio.

  “Go ahead, Beans,” Buck replied.

  “In a few miles, there’s a hamburger joint that is the best place to eat on this side of Nevada. What do you say we pull over and check it out?”

  Buck wasn’t hungry, although he imagined he should be. Instead of toast and eggs at the motel’s breakfast buffet, he had started the day with a gunfight.

  He looked at Connie but didn’t key the CB microphone. “I’m not ready to stop. I’ve been losing time on my trip east since yesterday. Now we’re finally moving the ball forward, and they want to stop?”

  “You don’t have to,” she replied.

  “I don’t want to lose the convoy, either, but they aren’t mine to command.” Buck wasn’t a wishy-washy kind of guy, but the combination of all the problems in his life conspired to make this choice more difficult than it should have been. “And, honestly, I think it’s dangerous to stop. I saw Modesto rip itself apart yesterday, and you and I have both seen weird shit on the highway. Going into any town for a bite to eat seems risky.”

  “So tell them that,” Connie said as if it were obvious.

  He thought about it for another mile, but Beans called again. “Anyone? Can we stop at this exit?”

  The emerald-green road sign was the only vibrant color from horizon to horizon. It informed them that the next town was three miles ahead.

  It took him every inch of that three miles to decide what he was going to do. At the last possible second, he veered onto the offramp.

  “Yeah, we can stop,” he said without emotion. His goal was to get in and get out.

  The five trucks rolled into the little town one after the next.

  “The Shanty Town diner is the highlight of this place,” Beans reported over the CB. “I stop here every time I pass this way. You should, too.”

  “I guess we are,” Buck said to his two friends.

  “I don’t know why you didn’t pass on this place,” Connie declared. “It can’t be that good.”

  “A convoy is give-and-take. If I ordered them around, they might not follow me, and I admit that it is past lunch time.”

  “Maybe,” she replied.

  When they got into the small town, Buck knew something was wrong. Unlike Bridgeport, where the people had watched the traffic go by, this one-horse berg was empty. When they got to the Shanty Town Diner, it was even worse.

  “Who the fuck would burn down a fine eatery?” Beans asked.

  The small building Buck assumed was the diner was now a black smudge on the pavement. A nearby gas station had blown up, and the adjacent wooden buildings had burned to the foundations.

  “We should go,” he said to Connie. Then, realizing his role, he picked up the CB. “Guys, I’m rolling through town. Just keep going, okay?”

  A couple of the truckers replied with alternatives that Buck didn’t like, so he didn’t respond. They followed him regardless. Sometimes, leaders simply lead.

  “What happened here?” she asked.

  “I don’t know, but it scared the people into hiding. Maybe they have their version of the bikers to worry about, or maybe they no longer want outsiders in their town.” He’d listened to books on tape for many miles of his travels. Small towns always had a dark side, and if the stories were based on any truth at all, they had to get out of there.

  “Just drive,” he said to restate his point.

  “I saw bodies,” Eve said over the CB.

  “Where?” the Monsignor replied.

  “Don’t be gross,” Eve shot back. “Unless you are some kind of sicko.”

  Mel laughed. “I guess I’m a little curious to see what I’ll look like someday. This mega-bomb is going to make a charred mess a lot like what we saw back there. I can see why people cleared out of the area.”

  Buck’s Peterbilt went down the ramp at the next interchange, and seconds later the little town was a mile behind.

  “God bless it,” Sparky called out. “They were right about this stuff. The country is in some kind of civil war.”

  Buck was going to correct him, but Beans broke in first. “Local news, guys. I got something all the way to the left of the AM dial.”

  He tapped the radio on, then slid the needle to the left.

  “Once again, we advise listeners to stay inside. If snow in June isn’t enough for you, we have multiple reports of a prison break in south-central Idaho. Residents of northern Nevada are advised to stay indoors. Do not pick up hitchhikers. Report anything unusual to local authorities.”

  “You were right,” Connie said. “Our day should be about getting you to your son, not dicking around in roach-filled diners.”

  She picked up the mic before he could agree. “This is Connie. I’m riding shotgun with Buck. His instinct was to avoid any towns, and that’s what we’re going to do. We’re all skipping lunch, and we’re going to cross this state before anyone eats, got it?”

  One by one the four other truckers agreed.

  She sat back in her seat, seemingly satisfied.

  “Not how I would have done it, but it needed to get done all the same. Thanks for that, partner.” He laughed, never taking his eyes from the windshield, and made sure to loosen his fingers to keep from white-knuckling the steering wheel.

  “I don’t care what these other people do, but I’m better off with you than without. I hate to say it, but you’re stuck with me and my big mouth. They should be happy to be stuck with you, too, if they want to survive.”

  “I’m sure I’ll be hungry ten minutes down the road, but for now, I’m glad to shave off a few more miles. Besides, I have a dead squirrel in the fridge. We can eat that if we have to.”

  She looked back at his small refrigerator. “I’m not squeamish, but hearing that made my stomach turn over. I think I threw up in my mouth a little.”

  Buck chuckled. “Sexy.”

  She couldn’t help but chuckle too. “You are one strange man. Isn’t he, Mac? Mac?” The dog, who was wedged in front of Connie’s seat with the floor heater blowing on his fur, didn’t budge. He was out cold.

  As the convoy’s point man, Buck was already looking ahead to the next bend.

  Twenty-Four

  Somewhere in New Jersey

  Garth had time to talk to Lydia as they walked. “So, what do you do for fun?”

  “There isn’t much time for that on the journey. We walk from dawn until dusk most days. I guess the fun comes when I get to talk to other kids my age. It at least distracts us.”

  They were back out in the rain, which had picked up considerably since he’d left the taxi. Lydia’s bonnet did a good job of keeping water off her face, but Garth hadn’t even brought a hat. The rain ran down his head, and he kept one hand over his brow as a visor. He felt like a moron. What would Sam do?

  “Do you have games or anything?” Garth blurted. He couldn’t imagine anything fun back in 1849.

  “Oh, we chase each other around or tell stories. Those can become games.”

  She didn’t do a very good job of selling him on it. He thought about what she was saying. He was interested but didn’t want to come across as a jerk. He also didn’t want to be the one doing all the talking, like Sam would have done while he tried to im
press her. Garth had seen the looks on the young women’s faces, so he knew it wasn’t a tactic that worked. Ever. Garth wondered what his dad would advise. Dad. How to talk to women.

  Garth chuckled, but the rain drowned it out. “Let’s get a better look and see what kind of options we have.” Garth pointed to a clearing between the onramp and the main highway. They started trooping in toward the spot, which was in the general direction of the car.

  “I’ve told you what I do,” Lydia said softly. “What do you do for fun?”

  “Wow. When I think about my days, I see most of it as fun. I spend a lot of time with my friend Sam. You’d like Sam. He’s hilarious, and he can tell some stories. Anyway, Sam and I play on our phones most of the time. Usually with each other, but sometimes not.”

  He patted his pocket to signify what he spoke about.

  “How can that be fun? Does it roll on the ground? Maybe it spins?” She smiled and clapped like she’d figured it out.

  Garth shook his head, wondering whether she was still yanking his chain about where she was from. While she acted like she was from the distant past, he had no way to verify the truth of her claim. Deep down, he was sure the teen girl was manipulating him into believing something as silly as time travel, although he had no idea why.

  The bottom line was, he needed her.

  “No. But I’ll show you when we get some time.” Turnabout was fair play. “Sometimes we go into the city and spoof people. You know, pretend to be something we’re not. Or wear egregious amounts of cologne and stand in crowds to see how people react. Spoiler alert: it isn’t pretty.”

  “’Spoof?’ I haven’t heard that word before. If you mean playing roles in a theater? I’ve never seen a show since we never had any money, but I’ve heard they were incredible.”

  Garth watched her face. She sold it well. What would it hurt to let her have her moment? If she was spoofing him, so be it. Lydia was making it interesting, and she wasn’t beating a pistol against the window of his cab.

  He looked into the sky. “There!” He pointed to a dark bank of clouds to the northwest. The sky was already overcast and wet so the darkness didn’t look like anything special, but he’d been paying attention to the broadcasts. “That’s got to be the radiation storm they warned about. Shit! We’ve got to move.”

  Lydia was facing to the south. “What about those? I think they are worse.”

  Garth looked where she pointed. Another dark area swirled menacingly underneath a top layer of rain clouds. It was as if the two violent storm fronts decided to slip in beneath a third, calmer, storm. He and the girl were in the path of both.

  “Come on!” the car is right over here.

  They ran together for a couple of minutes, and she easily kept up with him. If her words were true and she walked every day of her life, it would make sense.

  Nah, can’t be true.

  “Why is one storm worse than the other?” Lydia asked as they ran. “We should go back! We can stay in my cave and avoid the rain.”

  He thought of his dad. The delayed text reply had told Garth to stay home and wait out the radiation storm. Dad was going to be angry about him having taken the cab, and he would be super-pissed that he had run the car off the road. He would go supernova if he let himself get caught in the rain out in the open.

  The yellow-colored taxi came into view ahead of him, so he continued to run. “Come on! We’re there.”

  She followed him to the car, although she seemed reluctant to get too close. “This is your wagon? It is the same as those shrieking machines under the bridge. It has no horses.” She looked inside the rear window, but then positioned herself to see inside the broken one by the steering wheel. “There are no ghosts inside yours?”

  Garth tried to think of it like a tv show or a movie. He had to convince her to help him, or they were both going to get very sick and die.

  “Look, I don’t have time to tell you everything. You’ve missed almost two hundred years of technology. This is like a…a boat. A boat doesn’t have horses pulling it, right? They use steam.” He had no idea if she’d even seen a boat, but he figured that was reasonable. He also had no idea if her boats used steam power, but he’d read about steamers in school and they looked pretty old, so he took a chance.

  “This boat on wheels will take us away from this place and allow us to escape both storms. However, we have to get it out of the mud right now.” He pointed to the mud-drenched rear wheels. “They just spin and the car doesn’t move.”

  “I still don’t see why you are worried about the rain—”

  “It isn’t the rain,” he interrupted. “I told you before. There is radiation…”

  Again, he had to think of a translation.

  “The rain has little fireballs inside each drop. I know it sounds crazy, but those fireballs will get inside your skin if they touch you. I’ve seen movies of nuke tests on YouTube. It is horrible stuff.”

  Cars sped by on the Garden State Parkway. In his head, he thought there had been an increase in traffic since he’d met Lydia. It was as if more people were moving out at the last minute to escape the looming threat.

  He walked over to her. “Please? I need your help to free my car. After that, I won’t stop you from going back under your bridge if you want, although I’m happy to give you a ride.”

  When she looked at him, her blue eyes struck him as ancient in some way, as if they’d seen a lot more than he had. The rest of her face was youthful, tanned, and a bit dirty. Maybe she’d spent a lot of time outside at the pioneer farm.

  “You’d really let me ride with you? You don’t even know me.”

  He got close to her, intending to start begging for her help, but she held up a hand and put it on his chest before he got too close.

  “I’ll help you,” she said, looking beyond him. “I want to know what it’s like to ride with the ghosts.”

  He mentally smacked his head. She was going to be disappointed when she finally understood how cars operated, but he’d deal with that later. Right now, he had to see if his gamble paid off.

  “So, do you know how to get my car out of the mud?”

  She smiled.

  I-80, Nevada

  The snow seemed to break, and the sky brightened as Buck’s convoy got well into Nevada. Miles upon miles of snow surrounded them on the flat desert floor, and the distant hills appeared as nothing more than snow drifts on the horizon. It was white everywhere.

  Soon after the weather cleared up, his phone vibrated in the cradle. He looked away from the snow-covered highway for a moment to confirm it was Garth.

  “Hey, can you pick this up? It’s my son. Tell me what he says.”

  Connie plucked it from the holder and read it, but didn’t relay it to him right away.

  “What does it say?” he pressed.

  “It says, ‘Sorry, dad. Took cab out of city. In New Jersey. Ran into ditch. Getting help.’”

  “What the…” Buck sucked in a deep breath. “What is that…kid doing out on the road? I know I taught him better. Oh, God. He’s going to be out there when the radiation hits.”

  He frantically spun the radio dial. “Damn. I’ve got to know where the storm is now. Maybe I can still help him get out of the path. Shit! He could be hurt or bleeding in his ditch. Does it say anything else?”

  She looked at the text. “No. I’m waiting to see if more comes through.”

  Buck practically ripped the steering wheel off the dashboard. “Dammit! I told him to stay home!”

  His anger came out like a flamethrower. First, he aimed it at Garth, although he couldn’t carry that heat for more than a few seconds once he realized his boy was in legitimate trouble. However, he next directed hells-hot anger at the mobile phone company he and Garth used. It hadn’t worked right since the blue light yesterday; it was down more than it was up. He was sure the system delays would cost Garth’s life. Finally, to his dismay, he turned the flames on himself.

  “Buck, you’ve real
ly done it this time. You should have been there.”

  “There was nothing you could have done,” Connie reasoned. “I know you tried. I typed in the message told him to stay put. It got to him too late. Maybe he was already out the door by the time you received his message asking for advice. You should be proud that he didn’t text and drive.”

  He didn’t want to tell her he was thinking along entirely different lines. If he’d been in New York with Garth, none of the delays would have mattered. However, he set that aside. It was pointless to imagine what could have been, just as Connie said it was pointless to wonder about all the different alternatives with the bikers. Garth needed his help. Now.

  “Connie,” he said in a measured voice, “will you please type the following?”

  “Ready,” she replied.

  “Garth, get to shelter as soon as you get this. Do not get caught out in the open. Radiation will kill you.” He hesitated. There was no way to convey all his expertise with radiation drills and how to survive. The only surefire answer for his son was to get out of the rain. He’d deal with the rest later; hopefully he’d have a better signal when they got close to Salt Lake City.

  “Anything else?”

  “Tell my son I love him.”

  “I will,” she replied softly.

  Buck was still almost twenty-five hundred miles from his boy, but he was getting closer with each passing minute. When the weather outside improved, he intended to push the limits of his Peterbilt.

  Search for Nuclear, Astrophysical, and Kronometric Extremes (SNAKE). Red Mesa, Colorado

  After speaking with Bob and learning of his treachery, she threw herself into her work. The general finally returned everyone’s phones, so people could communicate within the facility. She tried to piece together an explanation for the general so he wouldn’t shut the boxes down.

  She tried the numbers of a few colleagues at CERN and tried to contact the authorities in Switzerland, but international calls didn’t go through. She also tried Dez, down in Australia, but that didn’t go through either.