Decay: Book 4 in the Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Survival Series: (Flashpoint - Book 4)

by Tara Ellis

  DECAY

  The Flashpoint Series

  Book 4

  By

  Tara Ellis

  Mike Kraus

  © 2019 Muonic Press Inc

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  Table of Contents

  Preface

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

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  Special Thanks

  Special thanks to my awesome beta team, without whom this book wouldn’t be nearly as great.

  Thank you!

  FLASHPOINT Book 5

  Available Here

  Preface

  The art of survival is a complicated tapestry, and the survivors of the flashpoint are learning it’s a different pattern for everyone.

  It’s been two weeks since an extinction-level gamma-ray burst released its fury on the Earth. With the unsuspecting population purged from two-thirds of the planet, those who are left must claw their way back to a semblance of modern civilization. The deadly gamma radiation and massive EMP it produced were enough to cast them into the 1800s and as the days draw into weeks, it’s becoming clear that their problems aren’t over. In fact, the worst of it might still be looming on the horizon.

  Drawn to the town of Mercy for different reasons, a group of refugees have banded together in the middle of the chaos. Tom comes across as your typical cowboy, committed to getting his son, Ethan, home safely to their ranch. As their relationship is challenged in inconceivable ways, the deeper layers of both men are revealed.

  Danny isn’t from Mercy, and her journey to the small mountain town is driven by the love for her father. A paramedic by trade, the often-underestimated woman has proven she’s a fighter. With her companion Sam, and a golden retriever named Grace, they’ve overcome their own challenges along the way and have teamed up with Tom and Ethan. Together, the ragtag group has pushed ahead and are nearing their destination. Unfortunately, like everything else they’ve fought for over the past two weeks, nothing comes easy in the new world.

  When General Montgomery found himself in charge of not only what was left of the military, but the country itself, he began to drag the pieces back together. In order to do so, he had to make sacrifices. Not everyone has agreed with his tactics, but The Man in the Mountain, sheltered deep inside the Cheyenne bunker in Colorado, is clear on his mission. Armed with the Survivors List, a compilation of people critical to ensuring mankind’s survival, the general has brought on the 1st Force Reconnaissance team to collect them.

  Led by Master Sergeant James Campbell, the recon unit are the Marines’ finest. Highly trained for special ops, they can go where others can’t, and that is exactly what the general needs. However, James is a man of honor and when he sees firsthand what has been deemed necessary to ensure the protection of the people, he begins to question General Montgomery’s motives.

  Mayor Patty has also been burdened with the responsibility of the safety of her own people, the citizens of Mercy. Though full of resourceful and able-bodied individuals, the logistics of keeping over six hundred fed and healthy is nearly impossible. Without the help of a select group, Mercy would fall victim to the same violence besieging the rest of the nation.

  Chloe came to Mercy lost and scared, part of a group of troubled teens on a hike that was supposed to improve their outlook on life. While the flashpoint has certainly changed her perspective, the young girl has been able to rise above her hardships and step up as a leader. With her two friends, also troubled teens, and their counselor, Bishop, they have integrated with the people of Mercy, but still feel a need to continually earn their place among them.

  As the environment evolves into a new balance, so do the inhabitants. Russell Boyd has come to Mercy on a mission. Though it isn’t quite as noble as the general’s, or Mayor Patty.

  Russell will help the Earth right its wrongs and he is her weapon of righteousness.

  Chapter 1

  CORA

  Los Angeles, California

  “Get her!”

  Eleven-year-old Cora cringed at the words and her breath came in ragged gasps as she ran for her life. It was The Crazies. They’d found her.

  Her foot slapped into something slick on the pavement and she slid sideways, her thin arms flailing momentarily as she caught her balance. Grunting, Cora threw herself behind a burned-out truck and scrambled over the ground on her hands and knees. Strands of dark hair that escaped her loose braid stuck to her lips, blowing in front of her with each exhalation. Something sharp tore at her bare legs, but she ignored the flash of pain and instead focused on the dark alley only ten feet away.

  “Cut her off!” a man shouted. His voice was close by and heavy with the sort of maniacal excitement that had earned the scavengers their name.

  The alley. She was in the alley. Momentarily blinded by the deeper darkness, Cora faltered a step and then chastised herself for the hesitation. She had to beat them to the library if there was any chance of escape.

  Cora knew The Crazies was a stupid, silly thing to call the men who hunted the streets of Los Angeles. It was the first name that came to mind when she saw them beating a woman on the fifth day after the light thingy happened. Cora prided herself on having a large vocabulary and was a voracious reader, except when she was witnessing horrible things her young brain simply couldn’t rationalize.

  There!

  The eight-story structure loomed tall at the end of the alley and created such a sense of relief that Cora almost smiled. She was approaching from the back of the building, instead of the grand entrance surrounded by park-like grounds with exotic statues and even a pool. Mamma M told her all about the history of the Los Angeles Central Library, and she was the reason Cora had survived so long.

  There was a big green dumpster straight ahead, close to the cement wall, and the small girl dared to look back over her shoulder as she sprinted for it. Large, dark shadows were moving across the street behind her, spilling out from the alley. Heavy, ominous pounding announced the approach of The Crazies an
d Cora knew she wasn’t going to make it inside unseen. But she didn’t have a choice.

  At least once inside the labyrinth of rooms and stacks of books, she stood a chance of staying hidden. Cora was good at hiding. If she remained outside…honestly, she didn’t know what they’d do to her. They’d certainly take her backpack, filled with her measly score for the day of a bottle of toilet water she’d discovered in an office bathroom, and a granola bar in a desk drawer in the same building.

  Then, they would hurt her. Cora had heard others in the library talking about how some groups were resorting to eating each other already. That the odd smell, reminiscent of a barbeque where the pork was cooked too long, wasn’t pork. Cora shivered and began to whimper as she rolled the dumpster aside far enough to reveal a service door. She couldn’t lock it behind her, because the whole handle had been torn out days before. That was how she was able to use it.

  Certain that rough hands were about to grab her at any moment, Cora squeezed through the door and stumbled down the three cement steps on the other side. The clatter of the metal cart being manhandled echoed into the passageway behind her and as she ducked into a side hall, the outer door slammed open.

  “Come on, little kitten!” mocked the same man who had yelled before. “You can’t hide from us.”

  Removing her dirty sandals, Cora began to tiptoe through the service hallway as fast and as silently as possible, while the group of men pursuing her made no effort to be quiet. That’s what she was counting on.

  A light snapped on, and a beam cut through the thick darkness of the windowless hallways. Cora gasped at the unexpected sight and then slapped a hand over her mouth to try and smother the sound. The light bobbed and the footsteps quickened as they ran. They’d heard her.

  Cora blinked, battling her tears of fear and frustration. She did her best to ignore the sounds of pursuit and focused on her goal.

  Turn right here…

  “Here, kitty, kitty!”

  Now, turn left…

  Shadows moved grotesquely in the dancing light as the men closed in on her, and Cora used her terror to push her legs faster than they’d ever moved before. Even if it had been daylight, that area of the building had no windows and was perpetually in a state of darkness. Normally, she would light her stub of a candle, but had to instead rely on the dozens of times she’d walked the route, running her hands down the wall to help guide her.

  There! Cora gasped again, this time in relief, as she came to a dead end and her hand wrapped around the handle of the only door. Opening it, she was greeted by the flickering light of several candles.

  The main room of the library was called the rotunda, according to Momma M, who had worked there for over ten years. Cora met the woman there the day after her life was destroyed. The day her mom was killed because she’d been a brat.

  When Cora had found out she wouldn’t be able to attend football camp with her two best friends because girls weren’t allowed, she’d pouted for two weeks. It was only after her mom promised to take her to Disneyland that she’d smiled again, and that was how they’d ended up in LA that day. It was all her fault.

  Cora knew that wasn’t true, but it didn’t matter. When she was alone in the dark, replaying the day she watched her mother die over and over again…it was the only phrase that echoed in her mind. It was her fault.

  They’d been on a tour bus, going through downtown Los Angeles on their way to Hollywood. Cora had been shocked and dismayed at most of the highlights of the tour and opted not to get off the bus, out of fear. The only building she wanted to see was the Central Library. They passed it at one point and she’d bobbed up and down in her seat, only to watch it recede out the back window. Getting up for a better view of it as they drove away was what ended up saving her life.

  There’d been an odd, whitish light that washed out the sun and made everything look brighter than it really was. Then, the bus died. Cora had turned back to where her mom was still seated, in the middle of the bus, with the intention of complaining about yet one more thing. As their eyes met, another bus slammed into them. Cora figured her mom died right away, based on what she looked like afterward. She’d read that was supposed to help with grief, but it didn’t. It couldn’t erase any of it from her mind, or change the fact that she would never see her mom again.

  When no one came to help even though she’d sat with her mom’s body for hours, Cora did the only thing she could think of doing. She went to the library. She was able to see it still, even through all the smoke. By then it was getting dark and people were already rioting and looting. Fires raged in too many buildings to count, but not the library, and that was all that mattered to Cora.

  “Hey!”

  Cora’s head snapped up, slamming her back to the present, as she sought out the source of the warning shout. A woman with long black hair was standing near the main check-out desk, holding a bat. Shrinking back, Cora veered away from the lady. However, the woman continued to shake the bat and it wasn’t directed at Cora.

  “You can’t be here!” she screamed, pointing the bat at someone across the room.

  Cora turned to see four men running into the rotunda, each of them clasping a different weapon. She guessed that the man in front, holding a large machete, was the one who’d been taunting her. She smiled. Her plan might already be working.

  There were at least three different groups of survivors living in the central library. While they weren’t as bad as The Crazies and didn’t make people disappear, they still used force to take what they wanted. Cora knew that based on what she’d seen and heard. Since she wasn’t sure who could be trusted, she avoided all of them. It was safer that way.

  The rotunda was an immense, three-story tall room with domed mosaic ceilings. The marble floor added an air of regality to the intricate architecture, so that it looked and felt more like a cathedral than a library. In the daylight, something called the zodiac chandelier was visible and featured a glass Earth that hung suspended above them all.

  As Cora scooted in between a row of books, she glanced up at the murky ceiling, and thought fleetingly of how it was an accurate representation of the darkness the planet was now suffering in.

  Other voices joined the argument, and Cora took advantage of the distraction by dashing behind the main counter. That was where she’d first encountered Momma M, a large black woman with an incredibly sharp mind and huge heart. She knew everything about the library, and Los Angeles. She’d taken Cora in and made sure she had enough food and water for several days. Momma M was also the one who had shown Cora how to disappear into the walls.

  Kneeling down, Cora pulled at an ornate, metal grate that was situated low on the back wall. It revealed a small opening less than two by two feet. It was big enough for her, though, and Cora slid in feet first so she could pull the grate into place behind her.

  Once inside, she wiggled backwards on her stomach, the cement cold against her bare skin as her T-shirt snaked up. Cora wasn’t sure what exactly the passageways were originally used for. Maybe heating or something equally boring, but she’d come up with an incredible tale involving fairies, evil trolls, and a handsome prince. She was the princess, of course, and like any good story, she would be rescued at the end.

  Cora choked back a sob as she clung to the belief that she would be found. That her dad, from their home in Texas, would somehow find her there, hidden in the walls of the Los Angeles Central Library, and whisk her back home.

  Her feet lost their purchase and then hung in midair momentarily as Cora reached her goal, some thirty feet back from the entrance. Pushing harder, her knees moved out into the open space, and then she was hanging, suspended over what could have been a hundred or ten feet, but in reality was only five.

  Cora dropped down and landed in a crouch, holding her breath for a moment in the pitch blackness to make sure there wasn’t any other movement. When all she heard was the escalating argument echoing in the distance, she closed her eyes and took one lon
g, deep breath.

  Slowly removing her backpack, Cora then dug a lighter out of her back pocket and felt around in the darkness for a candle. After lighting one, she hesitated and then lit a second. It had been a bad night.

  Cora’s “room” was some sort of central connecting hub for the network of small tunnels. The space itself wasn’t more than five feet across and octagonal. She had lined the walls with books, and covered the floor with a motley collection of blankets, pillows, and a couple of small couch cushions from the reading room. One section of the wall was left bare, where Cora was keeping track of the days by making marks on the cement with a piece of chalk she’d found.

  She had started doing that on the second day Momma M didn’t come back. The older woman went to do some scavenging, because she said there wasn’t any more water left in the pipes. Cora understood that they couldn’t live more than a few days without water, but they had both seen the violence that raged through the city and it scared her. She had begged Momma M not to go without her, but the kind woman wouldn’t allow it.

  The tour guide on the bus two weeks before had talked nonstop. Cora remembered three things he’d said: the city of Los Angeles was over five hundred square miles, had more than four million people in it, and was bigger than New York.

  Cora tried to get to the ocean. She had another fantasy about living on the beach and surviving off the land, like The Swiss Family Robinson. Unfortunately, the only jungle Cora managed to see was concrete. Even though she’d left early in the morning, she ended up getting caught out in the dark. The reality was that she had no idea which direction to go, or for how long. She was lost.

  Sighing, Cora grabbed her chalk and made another line on the wall. Fourteen days since the end of the world. Sitting down on one of the cushions, she pulled her Frozen-themed backpack into her lap and stared longingly at the smiling girl in the image. Closing her eyes, she envisioned herself high up in a castle turret, deep in the woods of a medieval forest.