Doomsday Civil War: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller (The Doomsday Series Book 5)

by Bobby Akart

  The murmur of voices could be heard as people finished up their conversations and started new ones. They began the trek up the gravel driveway toward the house, except for X-Ray, who stood meekly to the side. Blair noticed this and whispered to Ryan, “I need to speak with X-Ray.”

  “What do we do with him now?” he asked.

  “I’m the toughest critic and judge here. That said, I think he’s earned his way back in.”

  “Good, I agree.”

  “However, he’s on probation. From now on, he reports directly to me. I wanna know what the little weasel is working on at all times.”

  Ryan laughed and gave his wife a playful shove. “You’re tough. Look at him. He’s about to wet himself thinking he’s getting banished.”

  Blair managed a devilish grin. “Oh, believe me, I’ll make him think he is. Then I’ll make him wish he was. Finally, he’ll be thanking me for the second chance.”

  “That’s the way you roll.”

  “Yup,” she added as she walked with purpose over to X-Ray.

  Ryan made sure the front gate security team had their marching orders and that the residents were on their way, and then he stopped to survey the scene. He’d envisioned the community coming together as a family through the common need for safety, and to overcome adversity when it presented itself.

  The Haven had been tested early on. In some respects, they’d failed in their preparations despite their best efforts. The loss of three lives was a testament to that. On the other hand, the group had jelled when they had to.

  Ryan smiled, quietly patting Blair and himself on the back for managing triumph out of tribulation. Once again, as they’d done so many times in their life together, the couple turned lemons into lemonade.

  Winning.

  Chapter 26

  Haven House

  The Haven

  Slaphappy from exhaustion, the adults chatted away, partaking of a glass of Rosa Regale from Blair’s private stash. The sparkling red wine came from a specific wine grape grown in northwest Italy. It was a light ruby red color, but most importantly for Blair’s personal taste, it had a sweet flavor like a dessert wine. Coupled with the lack of sleep and the desire to lift their spirits, it only took two glasses to immediately cause the residents to become chatty.

  Meanwhile, Hannah was holding court in the media room, away from the watchful eyes of the adults. With the other kids gathered around, and the four-legged babies sprawled out on the hardwood floor, Hannah gave the blow-by-blow details of her abduction and captivity.

  Then, with the drama that only a master storyteller can manage, she explained her decision to pull the laundry basket away from Chepe’s landing spot. She had the kids rolling in laughter as she described how he’d groaned in pain when his ankle snapped. She stood on one leg and hopped around, using animated gestures to imitate Chepe as he made his way out of the utility room.

  Of course, Hannah never let on how utterly terrified she had been during the entire ordeal. And when the other kids left the room to get a snack, she asked Skylar to stay behind so that she could tell her how brave Ethan had been. He’d died a hero, she insisted, and Skylar should forever be proud of what her brother had done to protect Will.

  After a couple of hours, fatigue took over and the wine began to cause some eyes to gloss over from exhaustion. The celebration began to break up, and eventually, the group dispersed, leaving only the Smarts, Sheltons, and Cortlands behind.

  “Ladies,” began Ryan as he reached for Cort’s and Tom’s arms, “may I borrow these gentlemen for a moment before everybody heads to their cabins for a mid-afternoon nap?”

  Donna chuckled. “Of course. Meredith, Blair, this is the time when the roosters slip away to congratulate themselves on a job well done. They’ll likely bust open a bottle of scotch, pour a few more rounds, and then we’ll have to put them to bed, where they’ll snore blissfully well into the night.”

  Tom began laughing. “Now, Mrs. Shelton, why would you want to taint these fine ladies’ images of their husbands?”

  Blair rolled her eyes. “Tainted? Pshaw. Ryan only waited for the others to leave so he wouldn’t have to share the good stuff.”

  Ryan smiled, rolled his eyes, and shook his head. “My missus takes no prisoners, but I love her so. Actually, no drinks. Cort needs to get some rest, and Tom’s on antibiotics. I had to promise Angela that he’d stick to no more than two glasses of bubbly.”

  “All right, go ahead, then,” said Meredith with a smile. “I’m sure Hannah can wait another few minutes.”

  Ryan led the guys into the study and gently pushed the door partially closed. His face grew serious as he paced the floor. He looked through the sheer curtains and then turned to his two top advisors. “It’s time to make an honest assessment here. Chepe is dead and I think we’ve established that he was one of the top thugs working for the Schwartz family. Here’s what I need you to think about, and we can reconvene later to discuss it.”

  “I know what you’re thinking,” interjected Cort.

  “Me too,” added Tom. “The question is whether this is over. Chepe and his anarchist buddies were readily available to attack us and to get to Cort. Whoever gave him the orders, whether Schwartz or someone else, is still out there. It’s possible they’ll make another run at—”

  Tom’s sentence was cut off by a call to Ryan’s two-way radio. “Front gate to Haven House. Over.”

  Ryan held his index finger in the air, stopping Tom from continuing his thought. “Go ahead, Front Gate.”

  “Um, sir. There are two men here for Mr. Shelton. Uh, they’re wearing Air Force uniforms.”

  Tom’s eyes grew wide as he stared at Ryan’s radio. A puzzled look came over his face.

  “Stand by,” said Ryan into his radio before turning to Tom. “Who knows you’re here?”

  “Nobody,” he replied. “I mean, oh god. The girls. Our kids know we’re here. What if …” A look of shock overcame his face and he raced for the door.

  “Tom! Tom!” shouted Ryan as he and Cort chased after him. “Don’t assume anything.”

  Tom ignored Ryan and found Donna in the living room with the ladies and Hannah. They noticed the look of alarm on his face and stood to greet him. Then Tom caught himself.

  “Um, sorry to interrupt,” he began, intending to hide his concerns from Donna. “I’ve gotta run down to the front gate with Ryan and Cort for a moment. Donna, will you wait here for me?”

  She took a step toward him, but he backpedaled. “Dear, of course. But what’s wrong?”

  “Oh, probably nothing. We’ve just got a visitor to deal with. We’ll be back shortly.”

  Tom turned to the guys and guided them to the front door with his eyes. They picked up on the cue and led the way.

  Once outside the house, Ryan reiterated to Tom that he shouldn’t worry, but the older man remained unconvinced. He was the first to enter the Ranger and tapped his leg impatiently until Ryan had them heading to the front gate.

  When they arrived, two Air Force officers stood solemnly in front of the gate, being held in place by the security guards’ rifles. Ryan drew closer and Tom squinted in the bright sunlight to get a better a look.

  “Oh, God, I know one of them. It’s Major Hicks from Joint Base Charleston. His rank, um, he outranks my oldest daughter, who is a captain.”

  Tom was making reference to the fact that a death notification contingent generally requires one of the personnel to be at an equal or greater rank than the deceased soldier.

  The Ranger had barely come to a stop when Tom flung open the door with his noninjured arm and dashed to the gate.

  “Major Hicks? I don’t understand. Is it my daughter?” Tom’s voice was hopeful, but full of trepidation.

  “No, Colonel. I’ve been asked to deliver a message to you. Eyes only, sir.”

  “What?” Tom was dumbfounded as the major extended his arm through the gate with an envelope enclosed. He took the letter and then studied the major. “Majo
r, how—?”

  “Sir, there’s more,” Major Hicks continued. “I’ve been instructed to tell you that a chopper is parked nearby and is available for your use, if you so choose. In addition, I’ve been asked to give you this.” He nodded to the captain, who stood stoically by his side.

  The man removed a satellite telephone from his jacket pocket and handed it to Tom. “It’s encrypted, Colonel. There are preset phone numbers programmed for you. It’s chargeable with any USB device, sir.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” said Tom as he rolled the satellite phone. He addressed the major. “What’s this all about?”

  “Sir, the correspondence is self-explanatory,” he replied. “I’m not authorized to add to it other than to say the chopper is at your disposal.”

  Tom turned and looked at Cort and Ryan, who’d inched closer to listen to the conversation once they heard it didn’t have anything to do with Tom’s family.

  Tom opened the sealed envelope and read the short letter. He shook his head and looked to the ground. Then he took a deep breath and turned to Cort.

  “It’s your father-in-law. He’s dying.”

  PART THREE

  Chapter 27

  George Trowbridge’s Residence

  Near Pine Orchard, Connecticut

  Cort, Meredith, and Hannah were excited at first as they climbed aboard the Bell 525 Relentless helicopter, one of three owned by George Trowbridge. With its use of fully integrated avionics coupled with an advanced fly-by-wire controls system, it provided the highest safety rating of any personal helicopter. Capable of holding twenty passengers, the Bell 525 cruised at a hundred thirty knots as it flew toward the Trowbridge residence. The crew made a quick stop for fuel at Dover Air Force Base in Delaware and then hugged the Atlantic seaboard, allowing the Cortlands an unparalleled view of Atlantic City, New York City, and Long Island as it descended toward Meredith’s familial home overlooking Long Island Sound.

  Full of apprehension, the family hastily departed the helicopter ducking under the massive blades rotating above their heads. They were greeted by Harris who filled them in on Trowbridge’s condition as they walked to the main house.

  “Meredith, it has been some time since you’ve seen your father, so I want to prepare you,” said Harris as he glanced at the estranged daughter and the granddaughter he hadn’t seen in many years. “His health has steadily declined since he was diagnosed with kidney failure. You combine that with the other ailments that beset a man of his age, such as vascular disease, and, well …” His voice trailed off as he became filled with emotions.

  Meredith stopped and reached for Harris’s arm. “You’ve been very loyal to my father, and I can’t thank you enough for being there for him on a personal level. As he grew older, he had the opportunity to change his life. Most people his age look for a quality of life that is far simpler. You know, reading the daily newspaper, watching their favorite programs in the easy chair, and solving ever-more-difficult sudoku puzzles.”

  Harris regained his composure and laughed. “Yes, my father was that way. Yours was not. He was a driven man. Um, still is, excuse me. He just never found a way to release the reins of power that he’d become accustomed to wielding. I think he’s now aware that it’s almost over. That’s why I took the extraordinary measures to reach you.”

  Cort asked, “Does he know we’re coming?”

  “No, not really, although in his weakened state, he will still be aware that the chopper has arrived. He’ll be asking questions, but I suspect once he sees you, he’ll understand.”

  Hannah looked up at Harris. “Is my grandfather going to die?”

  Harris didn’t attempt to respond, looking instead at Cort and Meredith. Talking with children about death was above his pay grade.

  “Honey, we don’t know yet,” replied Meredith. “Let’s go see him and say hello, okay?” She’d already asked the question when she caught herself.

  Cort turned to Harris and whispered, “Is there any reason Hannah can’t see him?”

  “No, it’s fine. He’s under the best of care. Now, there are lots of machines and medical personnel around. I hope that doesn’t frighten her.”

  Cort chuckled. “Um, she’s been through a lot. I don’t think much will frighten her.”

  Harris nodded and continued toward the house. Within a minute, they were standing in the grand foyer.

  “Excuse me for a moment while I check in with the doctor,” said Harris as he ran up the stairs, taking two at a time.

  Meredith showed Hannah around, explaining to her that this was where she grew up before she’d met Cort. Hannah had been very young and didn’t remember the last visit to the estate. Cort had been there recently, but Meredith hadn’t returned home in many years. There were some new paintings adorning the walls and several photographs of her father with foreign dignitaries as well as Washington politicians. Cort pointed out some of the more notable people pictured, especially those whom Hannah might recognize.

  After a few minutes, the medical team emerged from the master suite and descended the stairs to introduce themselves to the Cortlands. They made small talk and then the team explained Trowbridge’s diminished condition.

  Harris took Hannah on a tour of the home’s main level, which included the piano room, the enclosed swimming pool and gym, and her grandfather’s study. While they were away, the doctor brought the Cortlands up to speed.

  Meredith listened intently as she was bombarded with a barrage of complex medical terms like uremia, hemodialysis, fistula, and shunt. She asked for explanations to help her understand the medical jargon. Ultimately, they provided her a history of her father and the blood-purifying machine that kept him alive. And then his primary physician brought them up to his current condition.

  “The medical equipment that we’ve employed in his care is the best money can buy. Frankly, it’s better than what most community hospitals have at their disposal. His treatment, however, is not a cure. It’s a life-extending mechanism designed to prevent the toxic substances from building up within his body that would necessarily have resulted in his death some time ago.”

  “He was fully alert when I saw him on New Year’s Eve,” Cort interrupted.

  “That happens sometimes before a patient’s condition worsens,” explained the doctor. “Over the past week or so, Mr. Trowbridge has complained of constantly being cold. His aches and pains have worsened. He is increasingly short of breath. And despite our constant monitoring of his condition and, frankly, due to his excessive need to converse with others …” The doctor’s voice trailed off as he cast a glance in the direction that Harris had taken Hannah for a tour.

  “What do you mean?” asked Meredith.

  “He’s developed mouth sores and has increased difficulty in swallowing, which has resulted in a loss of appetite. Elderly people in general have a tendency to cut back on their food intake in their later years. For Mr. Trowbridge, the lack of sustenance can hasten his death.”

  “I have to ask something,” began Cort. “Does my father-in-law have a DNR order?”

  A DNR, or do not resuscitate order, is a legally recognized document executed by a patient while he is still of sound mind and body. Also referred to as a living will, it details a person’s desires on how they are treated medically in the event they are unable to communicate their wishes on their own. Oftentimes, the DNR orders health care professionals not to take extraordinary means to keep the patient alive. This includes withholding cardiopulmonary resuscitation, or CPR, as well as other forms of advanced cardiac life support in the event their heart stops working or their breathing fails.

  “He does, as well as a durable power of attorney for health care,” replied the doctor. Unlike the living will, which generally applies to a patient who has little or no hope of recovery, a durable power of attorney appoints someone, usually a trusted family member, to make health care decisions, as well as financial ones, in the event the patient becomes mentally incapacitated.

&n
bsp; “Good,” replied Cort. As a former attorney, he was thoroughly familiar with the legalities surrounding these two health-related documents, as well as the use of living trusts to avoid probate when settling an estate. He’d created similar documents for him and Meredith, which also provided for the care of Hannah should they die before she turned eighteen. “Well, I assumed that George would have something like that in place. I’m glad that Harris summoned us. With Meredith here, she can make the decisions—”

  “Um, excuse me, Mr. Cortland,” interrupted the doctor. “Actually, Mrs. Cortland is not the person named in the durable power of attorney. You are.”

  “Me? Why wouldn’t he—” Meredith answered his question for him by catching herself. Then she continued. “Because his daughter was being a selfish brat at the time and he probably didn’t trust me to do the right thing.”

  Cort tried to console his wife. “Honey, we don’t know that.”

  “It doesn’t matter, Cort. He was right. I trust you with those decisions, why wouldn’t he?”

  Cort was anxious to change the subject, especially since Hannah was returning. “Can we see him now?”

  “Yes, he’s unaware of your arrival, but he is awake and lucid,” replied the doctor.

  “Doctor, how much longer does he have?” asked Meredith.

  “It’s hard to say,” said the doctor.

  Meredith pressed him for an answer. “Hours? Days?”

  “Well, I meant what I said. Mr. Trowbridge is a fighter and he could manage to live for weeks or a month. There are so many variables to consider. Might I suggest that you focus on today? When I took him under my care, we had an understanding. One day at a time.”

  Cort smiled and reached out to shake the doctor’s hand. “I agree. Thank you so much for all you’ve done for him. One day at a time, starting with today.”