End Days Super Boxset (165 page)

"Yes?" he asked, still facing away.

"You still find me attractive?"

Terrance turned back around and looked at her with surprise. "Of course I do, baby," he said, after giving her another kiss.

"It's just. You're gone so much. And I know that you're trying, but sometimes I wonder. I just need to make sure."

She would never outright accuse him of having an affair, unless her intuition told her something. But Terrance didn't seem like that kind of guy. However, she could never be sure. A man was a man, despite all his good nature. They kissed again, and Terrance leaned over to dim the light. He knew the option of sleep wasn't going to happen for a while. Christina needed some reassurance.

As African Americans in an African American neighborhood, Terrance and Christina felt somewhat alone in their prepper lifestyle. Other families they knew showed little concern about what the Robinsons believed to be dangerous times. Even at the Mt. Vernon Baptist Church they regularly attended, it was hard to bring up the subject of prepping to anyone. "You one of them doomsday people?" A church parishioner named Jacquelyn had asked them that during their after-church lunch.

There was simply no getting through to the people they knew, although that didn't stop them from trying. Eventually they had to look outside Atlanta. They searched online for other groups located at some short distance and came across Mark, Janice, and James. A relationship and bond was formed from then on. They trusted each other. They relied on each other. And each day, as the news got worse, they believed in each other. No one knew for sure when their trust would truly be tested.

James, the Mosses, and the Robinsons all lived within practical distance of each other. James had initiated the prepper group by searching for individuals who wanted to pursue an investment into an ideal "bug-out" house he had found in rural Milledgeville. Many people were naturally suspicious of James' offer, but he eventually found some takers. Milledgeville rested squarely between Atlanta and Savannah, though Savanna
h
—
o
n the coast of Georgia—was farther away. Geographically it made sense to both the Mosses and the Robinsons once they investigated the investment. He would live in the house, maintain it, and stock it with food and supplies if they agreed to split the cost of the property and the mortgage. The location was ideal for James, as he taught classes at Georgia College with an M.A. in Contemporary History. James loved history and reveled in Milledgeville's past.

He had worked at Georgia College for more than five years. It had been nearly a year since he last saw anyone in his prepper pact. The last time they met was on a Labor Day weekend. The Mosses and the Robinsons took the drive to Milledgeville to check out the house and catch up with James and each other. For the Robinson kids, it was a simple barbecue with a friend of the family's they had never met before. Richie, Tobias, and Paula were curious about their parents’ newfound “friends.”

"Why'd we drive all the way out here just to hang with some old white people?" Richie asked Tobias, who didn't know.

Over the year, James heard less from his prepper pact, and wondered about them. They still sent checks for the house payments but seemed less interested in maintaining contact. It was nothing personal; they just had lives to lead. He just hoped they'd be ready when the time came.

Serious prepping took time and commitment, a challenge to anyone with a family and bills to pay. James lived an isolated life in the bug-out house, but he was happy. He'd always been somewhat of a loner and had been able to manage since the breakup of his marriage, and the distance from his son and grandchildren. He had his students. Each semester, he reveled in teaching the importance of history. He wanted them to realize that knowing history was the key to understanding the future. Knowing the past, James believed, prevented a society from making the same mistakes. Those who forgot the past were doomed to repeat it. It was for this reason James was an enthusiastic and dedicated teacher.

The Robinsons had no intention of ever moving to a place like Milledgeville for good. The Mosses liked Savannah, every bit as much as the Robinsons had their roots in Atlanta. Terrance and Christina were admittedly proud people. Their rundown neighborhood on the outskirts of the city had got progressively worse over the years, but they were reluctant to move. They discussed the matter one night after a recent string of shootings around the neighborhood.

"This is our home," Terrance said, "and we're not going anywhere."

"But I don't know if I feel safe sending the kids to these schools any longer," Christina argued.

"We're not moving, and that's final," he said. Eventually, they agreed to invest in the bug-out house because of its distance from the city.

"When everything goes down, we'll be safe. And if I'm not here, you best gather up the kids and take the car to the house without me," Terrance said.

She hoped the day would never come. Terrance was sure calamities were right around the corner, but each day passed and things seemed to remain the same. Terrance and Christina were both Georgia natives. Just staying financially afloat was enough for them. The prospect that everything could quickly change for the worse seemed very real, but they hoped they were wrong in the long run.

The Mosses, frugal as they were, considered the cost of living reasonable in Savannah. They liked the weather, and they liked living near the coast. They bug-out house looked to them to be a wise investment. Mark was uncertain about working with James at first, cautious about just giving their money to a stranger who lived in the woods. But after an exhaustive background check and meeting James in person several times, Mark warmed up to him. James seemed to be the genuine article. A man intent on survival. They made payments on the mortgage, and the group eventually paid off the entire cost of $66,000. To mark the occasion, the Mosses and The Robinsons celebrated over the Labor Day weekend. It was the last time they had seen each other. A year had passed since then, when suddenly the power went out, and everyone's worst fears came true.

Monday September 21, 2025 7:30 A.M. Savannah, GA.

Mark woke up and immediately felt anxious about the morning meeting with his boss. He looked over at Janice and saw that she was still sleeping. He wanted to wake her up to get some reassurance, but she looked too peaceful. Her shoulder-length dark hair was splayed over her pillow, covering the side of her face. She was lying on her side, facing Mark, with the curvature of her body steadily rising and falling with her breathing. He snapped out of his funk and placed a foot on the soft beige carpet below. The room was still dark, but one pull of the curtain over their large bedroom window, and sunlight would fill the room.

After two weeks of trying to make a good impression at work, he felt that everything was riding on a single morning coffee meet. He would soon be sitting across from his boss, and he wanted to be awake, alert, and on-point. His morning routine began with a cup of espresso, followed by a hot shower. By the time he was dressed, it was five minutes to eight. He had plenty of time and started to feel good and ready. He tucked his long-sleeved button-up shirt into his dress pants then flipped his collar up to adjust his blue tie. Janice peeked her head into the bathroom.

"Look at you all dressed up and ready to go," she said with a smile.

"An impressive sight, if I do say so myself."

Janice stretched. "Well don't take too much longer making yourself beautiful; I need to get ready for work myself."

Mark adjusted his tie then straightened it with a pull. "Don't mind me, do what you need to do," he said.

Janice pushed her way into the bathroom. "Move it, bub," she said. "Time's up."

He circled around and pulled Janice closer toward him, holding her arms down. "When I'm rich and successful, you won't be able to push me around anymore," he said. He looked at his wristwatch, and then readjusted his tie. "Bathroom's all yours, honey, gotta go." He flew out of the bathroom, leaving Janice standing in front of the mirror.

"Good luck with your meeting," she said.

Mark ran back in the bathroom and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "Sorry, love you!" he said, then flew back out.

"Love you too," she answered.

Mark grabbed his suit jacket from the bed, moved quickly downstairs. "Have a good day at work," he shouted.

"You too," Janice shouted back, and then she heard the door slam. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was a mess. The light skin on her face was breaking out slightly into red bumps. She would have to put on an extra layer of moisturizer to control it. At twenty-eight, Janice was still young at heart and appearance. She examined her face and looked for any signs of age. Her hazel eyes shined in the light. Her thick and shapely lips could still be seductive when they needed to be. And her hair, originally brown, had been dyed black. She suddenly realized that she had to battle rush-hour traffic with less than an hour to get to work. She had to be there by 9:00 a.m. and it was already past eight.

She threw off her bathrobe and jumped in the shower, in a slight panic. She foolishly turned the shower knob too fast and was met with a spray of water that felt like ice. She tried to switch the knob in the other direction and was blasted with scolding hot water. "Damn it!" she said. Eventually she got it worked out.

Mark jumped into his dark blue, two-door Chevy Cavalier and backed down the driveway. Once he was on the road, he realized he had more than enough time to get to the coffee shop. It was 8:15, the coffee place was fifteen minutes away, and he didn't have to be there until 9:00. Now he would be
too
early. Mark wondered if being too early was worse. He didn't want to look as though he had been waiting too long for her. He had to remind himself to stop worrying, and that it wasn't a date.

Things on the highway weren't too bad just yet. After some time in stop-and-go traffic, Mark found his way to the Barnie's coffee shop, right down the road from the Nissan dealership. He lived very close to where he worked, which was an added benefit of the job. He could probably ride a bike to work every morning if he didn't have to dress business casual. Normally he didn't wear a suit, but he wanted to look as professional as possible for the meeting.

Mark pulled in the Barnie's parking lot at 8:50. He wasn't sure if his boss had arrived yet, but found a parking space in the back and noticed a black Nissan Altima that looked like her car three spaces over. Barnie's was busy, and nearly every parking space had been taken. He got out of his car and walked hurriedly to the front entrance. There was already a long line at the counter.

Mark glanced around looking for Mrs. Andrews. He walked past the front counter, turned to his left, and entered a quaint seating area. She was sitting on one side of a high table in the corner. Mark felt relief, and walked over the table to meet her. Barnie's was noisy with the commotion of patrons, employees calling out orders, and light jazz vibrating from the sound system.

His boss was dressed in a dark single-button blazer with a white shirt underneath and slim, black pants that went down to her ankles. Her graying hair was tied back in a bun, and she looked very business-like, especially wearing her thick black-framed eyeglasses. She was at least ten years older than Mark but still attractive. She had a tall coffee in front of her and was reading over some files lying on the table. Mark grew nervous noticing the paperwork, but trudged over to her table as she looked up and noticed him with a smile.

"Mark, so nice to see you, good morning," she said, holding her hand out.

Mark smiled back enthusiastically and shook her hand. "Mrs. Andrews, thank you, nice to see you as well."

"Please have a seat," she said, as she cleared her files off of the table.

"Sure," Mark replied as he pulled out the stool on the other side and sat down.

As they looked at each other, she noticed he didn't have a coffee. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said, holding one hand to her mouth. "You didn't get your drink yet. Please, put it on my card." She pulled a credit card out from her purse and handed it to Mark. "Thank you," Mark said, and slowly taking her card.

"No problem, I insist," she said. Mark walked back to the counter and ordered a pumpkin spice latte. October was right around the corner. He made it back to the table, handed his boss her card, and took a seat. "Thanks again, Mrs. Andrews."

"Please, call me Evelyn," she replied. “

Mark took a sip from his latte, and tried to think of something to say, but Evelyn beat him to the punch.

"How was your weekend?" she asked. A standard question in any sense. Mark folded his hands on the table and responded. It almost felt like the job interview all over again but a tad more informal.

"Oh it was great. Very relaxing. Got to spend some quality time with m
y
wife. Got some shopping done, you know, a nice quiet weekend. How about yourself?"

Mark glanced at her hand and noticed a ring on her finger, just like him. He was glad to know she was married. They had something in common after all.

"Mine was pretty much the same. Though a little more hectic. I've got a meeting later with some executives from Nissan, and I spent all of Sunday working on my presentation."

"That's crazy," Mark said, not sure what else to say. He was no expert on the matter. "Nothing like a morning meeting to mess up your Sunday," he added. He suddenly cringed, aware of the comparison he had just made. Evelyn got right to the point.

"The reason I asked you here today, Mark, is to go over a few quick things. I felt it better to talk in a relaxed environment, face to face."

He suddenly grew more nervous. Evelyn moved in a bit. "I'd just like to say that we're very pleased with your work performance so far. The office likes you, the customers like you, and I've heard nothing but good things. To make six sales in a matter of two weeks is extremely impressive as well."

Mark was confused but maintained eye contact as she continued.

"The point is, we're happy with your work so far, and I just wanted to let you know that. You've put in a lot of hours and show quite a bit of dedication for someone who's only been with us for two weeks." Evelyn paused. "Basically what I'm saying is to keep up the good work."

"Well, thank you, Evelyn, thank you very much," Mark said. He could breathe again, and felt that his worrying had been for nothing.

"If there's any questions about the job or about anything else, just let me know," Evelyn said.

Mark clasped his hands, thinking. "Um. Nothing at the moment, I just want to thank you for the feedback. I'm very happy to hear it."

She suddenly grew more serious. "Now I'm going to give you some careful advice. I've worked for Nissan for twenty years and have realized nothing happens overnight. Don't let the past two weeks go to your head. You've been great, but I've seen a lot of great ones crash and burn. Consistency is the key."

Mark nodded in agreement. "Thanks for the advice," he said.

"No problem,” she said, looking at her watch. "Shit, it's 9:10. I'm sorry, Mark. I should have had us meet earlier so we could talk more. I've got to get to that meeting."

"That's all right," he said, taking another sip of his latte. "I've enjoyed our talk."

"Me too, let's do this again sometime in a couple of weeks and see where you're at." She grabbed her files, rose from the stool, and stuffed them in her large, red leather purse. "Sorry to leave so soon; see you in the office. And by all means, stay and enjoy your coffee."

"No problem, thank you."

Evelyn smiled and nodded while attempting to maneuver around the other tables. The lights in the coffee shop then went dim, startling her. Mark perked up and looked around as the lights came back on. Before he knew it, they flashed off again. The entire store went dark. Daylight streamed through the curtains. A brief moment of silence fell over the busy Barnie's crowd; then everyone resumed their conversations. Mark waited and waited, but the power didn't come back. Strange as it was, he thought it even odder that every vehicle outside the coffee store was at a dead stop.

Evelyn turned around to address Mark, with a look of slight annoyance. "Perfect timing. At least we got our coffee," she said. Mark got down from his stool and followed her. They passed the busy counter. Three lines had formed, and a group of people who had paid for their orders were waiting off to the side. They made their way past several customers who just wanted their coffee. The two female cashiers were offering apologies left and right.

"I'm sorry everyone, our system is down. Until we get the power back on, we can't fill no orders," Tanisha, the cashier on the right, announced.

"But what about those of us who already paid?" a skinny, bald man called out, waving his receipt in the air. "You gonna give us refunds, or what?"

"Yeah!" a woman added.

"I want my money back," a man said.

Other disgruntled murmurs followed. The store manager came from out back and asked for calm, but nobody wanted to hear it.

Mark and Evelyn made it outside and were met with the sight of complete gridlock on the main road. The Nissan dealership was only a few miles up the street.

"What in the hell is going on here?" Evelyn asked as she took off her reading glasses and replaced them with a pair of Armani sunglasses from her designer purse.

Mark looked around. Not a single car was moving. It was eerily quiet for a busy Monday morning. A few hawks circled overhead, cawing as if issuing a warning the people below. Evelyn hurried to her car, and Mark followed. Her high heels clicked on the pavement with each step as she rushed ahead and dug into the purse to retrieve her keys. Two cars sat in the middle of Barnie's parking lot exit motionless. The drivers stubbornly remained at the wheel, turning their ignition keys over and over. Flustered, Evelyn entered her Nissan and closed the door. Mark remained in the middle of the parking lot absorbing the stillness of everything. Customers shuffled out of Barnie's in a daze, squinting at the sun. The two stubborn drivers in the parking lot got out of their vehicles and walked around them in utter confusion.

From the driver's seat, Evelyn opened her car door. "Just wonderful, my car won't start," she called.

Mark turned to her. It was no routine power outage around him. There was something more. Something had disabled every vehicle in the parking lot and, from the looks of it, every vehicle on the road.

"What happened when you turned the key?" Mark asked.

Evelyn didn't answer; she was too busy digging around in her purse. She pulled a slim iPhone out and swiped its screen with her manicured red fingernails. Nothing happened. The screen was blank, there was no power.

She noticed him looking at her. "I'm calling a cab; I don't have time for this nonsense. I'm already late for the meeting." She stared at her phone’s powerless screen as if offended. She held down the power switch and got nothing. "Can't this thing hold a charge for more than five minutes," she said with growing desperation. "Argh!" she added. "What a morning."

Mark approached her car, trying to stay clear-headed. The Barnie's crowd assembled back to their vehicles and was met with the same fate. None of their engines would start.

"Why don't you pop the hood?" Mark suggested. She nodded back, leaned down and pulled the hood release. "It's probably the battery," she replied. "Maybe I left my headlights on."