End Days Super Boxset (191 page)

“Whoa!” Russell said, holding his hand up. “Let's not jump the gun here. You guys make whatever decision you want. Talk about it. Reach an agreement. But first, we need your help with breakfast. We need everyone to pitch in.” Russell stood up, signaling everyone to follow. “Come on. You guys can cool off over some scrambled eggs.”

Shane, Sally, and Jeff followed as Danny and Jacklyn trailed behind. Russell opened the cabin door and everyone walked out. It was a gray, cloudy, and overcast day. They could see Russell's men walking back from the obstacle course toward the dining tent where the food was often made and served.

“Where's Chris?” Jacklyn asked.

“Not sure,” Danny said. “Haven't seen him all morning.”

Suddenly, Russell stopped. “Jeff, Shane, can I talk to you one moment? Danny, Jacklyn, Sally, can you go see what they need help with, please?”

Danny looked at Russell suspiciously but was met with a cold stare in return. “Fine,” he said. “Come on, Jacklyn.” The three walked off, leaving Jeff, Shane, Russell.

“What's up?” Shane asked.

Russell looked around. A gust of wind blew across his stringy, black hair. “You both are pretty sharp guys, so I don't wanna bullshit you. There comes a time when you have to consider something greater than yourselves. We are family here, and we're growing. But what we don't need is a bunch of deadwood.”

Jeff looked at Russell curiously, and was met with a slight smile in return. “Jeff, you're awful quiet lately,” Russell said.

“I don't know, I'm just confused by all of this.”

Russell put his arm around Jeff. “Don't be, my friend. This is one place where things make sense.” He slowly released Jeff and took his place in front of the two. “You both have what it takes to be a part of what we're doing out here. We have food, supplies, all that you could need. It's not the same in town, I can guarantee you that.”

“How long are things going to be like this?” Shane asked.

“By my estimates, two months. Maybe longer.”

“Good God,” Shane said.

“Think about it. Half the men here couldn't even aim a weapon a few months ago, let alone fire one. Some of them never even went hunting before. Now they’re experts. We'll teach you everything we know.”

Shane and Jeff nodded. “Go get some grub,” Russell said. He turned away from them as they walked off to the food tent. They weren't entirely sure, but Russell had them thinking.

***

Chris was continuing his investigation of the encampment. The perimeter of the compound was enclosed by fifty-foot walls that had recently been constructed. Russell’s men had taken logs and bound them together with rope. They had filed the tops, pointy and sharp, like something from the frontier times of the 19th century. The layout in the camp was simple: Four large cabins, forty-feet long, Russell's private cabin, and several aluminum storage sheds. There was the dining tent, an obstacle course, a running trail around the camp, and a fire pit.

The only way out was through the front gate, and it was guarded by two armed men twenty-four hours a day. They were also in the process of building lookout towers at each corner. The posts had been set, but there were no platforms yet. Russell’s men were quick and efficient in carpentry.

Chris continued his stealthy search through Camp Liberty. He had been suspicious of Russell and his men ever since his group had arrived. His curiosity had been piqued. He was looking for a story, imagining something he could present in journalism class. It appeared that everyone was at breakfast. Chris could smell the eggs and bacon. His stomach growled, but breakfast offered one of the few opportunities for moving around the camp undetected.

He knew that Russell wasn't being straight with them, but it wasn't a simple matter of leaving. All of Russell's men were armed, and there was no way out of the camp on their own. They were prisoners, just as Chris had suspected. He wanted to gather enough evidence to prove to his friends that they were in danger. During the past week, Chris had begun to realize that they had made a mistake in going to the camp. Now they needed a strategy.

He tried to open the doors to the storage sheds, but they were all secured by thick padlocks. Voices came from within the dining tent, and it sounded like everyone was enjoying themselves. Inside the tent were two long dining tables, big enough to seat thirty people at one sitting. They also had a grill and propane stove for cooking. A hearty meal could be smelled from afar. However, Chris didn't see any livestock on the premises. Other than hunting, he wondered where they were getting their food.

Walking away from the storage sheds, Chris decided he had investigated enough for the morning. It was time to grab a plate and blend in with the others. He would tell them what he heard Russell say in due time. As he passed one of the cabins, he heard the voices of two of Russell's men, who were standing to one side, engaged in conversation and smoking cigarettes.

Chris stopped immediately and backed up against the other side of the cabin. He tried to breathe quietly and remain hidden. The men were dressed in camouflage militia gear and brandishing M4 carbine rifles. Chris strained to listen as they continued their conversation. One had a distinctively Southern accent, while the other spoke like a longshoreman from Rhode Island.

“You know it's going to happen, right?” the longshoreman asked.

“What's that?” the cowboy asked.

“A fuckin' purge. What else do you think? We're gettin' low on supplies. Hunting season is a bust. We're gonna have to go into town and stock up.”

“I don't know. Last time things didn't go so well. I thought Russell said no more purges,” the cowboy asked.

“Don't think we have a choice in the matter. He's waiting to get the green recruits on board,” longshoreman said.

“Hell, good luck with that,” the cowboy said.

Longshoreman laughed. “May be true, but I tell ya, I'd love to have a few hours alone with them pretty girls.”

Cowboy got even more animated and laughed along. “You ain't kidding. I call the blonde one.”

“Not so fast, buddy. Let's flip a coin on it. I kinda like her,” longshoreman said.

“Hey, there's nothing wrong with the other one. I'd take her just the same,” cowboy said.

“Got a couple pounds on her, but nothing a few laps around camp won't fix,” longshoreman said. The two men laughed together and gave each other a high five.

Chris pushed his back against the cabin hard. Sweat beads dripped from his forehead down his face. The men laughed, flicked their cigarettes to the ground, and began to walk away. They walked in the opposite direction from where he was hiding. Once their voices were out of range, Chris closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Hello, Chris,” a voice said.

Chris froze and opened his eyes. Standing right beside him were Russell and Kyle. He couldn't muster a word. He had no idea how long they had been standing there.

“We've been looking everywhere for you,” Russell said with a smile.

“Yes, your friends are very concerned about your whereabouts,” Kyle added.

Chris opened his mouth but couldn't think of anything to say.

“Cat got your tongue?” Russell asked. Chris grew more nervous as Kyle left Russell's side and slowly moved next to him.

“I was just, um, I was just walking around. I was on my way to breakfast,” Chris said.

“Were you at my window earlier this morning?” Russell asked.

“Me? No. I have no idea what you're talking about,” Chris said. In reality, he wanted to demand answers, beginning with how Russell knew he was at his window listening.

Suddenly, Kyle grabbed Chris from behind, holding his arms behind his back like a police officer would.

“Can't trust liars around here, Chris. Honesty is our main policy. It's the only way we'll survive together,” Russell said.

“Honesty?” Chris said. “You're full of shit. You've been lying to us from day one!”

Russell walked closer to Chris and then sucker-punched him right in the gut. The intense pain nearly sent Chris to his knees. As he coughed and gagged, Russell continued.

“No need to make a scene, my boy.” Russell stopped and shook his head. “It's a real shame. We could have really used your skills. But if we don't trust each other, nothing can possibly be gained.”

Drool flowed from Chris's mouth in a long spittle. He struggled to catch his breath but felt nothing but searing pain.

Russell looked to Kyle. “Get him the hell out of here. Don't let anyone see you.”

Chris was on his knees. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and he still could hardly breathe. Kyle looked around, pulled a handgun from his side, and hammered it down on Chris's head, knocking him unconscious in a flash.

Thursday October 1, 2020, 11:35 p.m. Milledgeville

The bug-out house wasn't completely burnt to the ground, but it was no more inviting than sleeping under the Georgian pines which surrounded them. James, Mark, Janice, and Christina tiredly roamed the perimeter of the house, looking for anything salvageable. The house itself was in ruins. Paula attempted to run toward the house, knowing she had left some inside, but Christina stopped her before she even made it to the driveway.

“You're not going anywhere near that house, so don't even think about it, young lady.”

“What about my stuff?” Paula asked in anguished protest.

“We grabbed your overnight bag,” Christina said. “What else did you have in there?”

“My book bag, Mom! All my school stuff was in there.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks and Christina suspected she had a little more than just textbooks in that backpack. Paula was very upset regardless. Christina felt bad for her and placed a hand on her face, wiping a tear away from her cheek.

“I'll do my best to find it, baby. I can't promise anything, but I'll try,” Christina said.

She no longer knew what she could tell her children. The house was supposed to be a safe haven. Christina had combated her children’s objections by telling them they were free from danger. With the bug-out house now in ruins, she could no longer assure them of anything. And with Terrance and Tobias on the road in the bug-out van, she felt especially alone. At least she had Paula.

The night before had changed everything. Now they were under an even bigger threat than ever before. It was bad enough being away from their homes in a remote house in the middle of the woods. By morning, they didn't even have that anymore. The aftermath of the evening's events was devastating.

The walls of the house were still standing, but the roof had collapsed, charred wooden beams and all. The bug-out house was an old structure, primarily made of wood, with minimal insulation. It had burned through the night with no intervention on the part of the fire department or Mother Nature. Not a single raindrop fell from the sky. For such a dry, windy night, they were fortunate that the flames hadn't spread and created a massive wildfire.

There was still a heavy amount of smoke in the air, which required them to hold rags over their mouths in order to breath. It was yet another reason Christina didn't want Paula near the house. Everyone was dressed and ready for the day. Mark and Janice wore standard outdoor clothing: boots, pants, and jackets. Christina and Paula were dressed for at least a couple miles of hiking in their sneakers, jeans, and wool flannel jackets. Their remaining items and their bag were placed at a safe distance from the house, not far from where Paula stood, trying to get a better look at the house.

James surveyed the backyard with sadness. It was a disaster. No more barbecues, horseshoes, or anything else. He nearly laughed at the thought of his destroyed bonfire pit. Not much was left of his prized oak tree either, just the seared trunk without leaves or branches. The limbs had broken off and fallen below. An enormous branch had fallen directly onto the hoods of both Mark's Plymouth 1970 Roadrunner and James's '75 Ford F-150 pick-up truck. Aside from the house, their bug-out vehicles were the most important thing they had.

James and Mark worked for hours throughout the day, removing branches and debris from the vehicles and trying to get them started again. Janice and Christina carefully searched the incinerated house, which they deemed safe to enter, to see if they could find anything to salvage. They were relieved to see that the basement was spared, but it still had suffered extensive damage from the heat. The radio was destroyed, as were most of their supplies. There was still a small reserve of dried and canned foods left, and perhaps the most important commodity of all: the wall safe containing weapons.

A thick haze of smoke filled the basement. The basement ceiling, or the kitchen floor, partly remained. There was an opening in the floor, allowing some air flow. Even with that, their tomb-like cellar was dark, stuffy, and difficult to navigate through. While searching, they felt an astounding relief to discover anything salvageable from the fire. Especially something as important as weapons. Christina spun the wall safe combination lock--still intact--and quickly swung open the safe. There were three rifles, a shotgun, a .38 special, and an assortment of ammunition.

“Thank you, Lord,” Christina said with her hands clasped together.

Janice looked over to the food storage area and noticed some containers resting on the shelves, unharmed by the fire. “We have food!” she said, elated. The smoke in the air suddenly made her cough.

Christina put a hand on Janice's shoulder. “We need to get all we can out of here. Anything we can salvage, we'll salvage. It's all we have left.”

Janice nodded and cleared her throat. They were pleased, since they hadn’t expected to find much. All the beds, couches, dressers, appliances, and other furnishings had been vanquished into melted plastic, charred wood, or singed iron frames.

“Too bad about the radio,” Janice said, looking at the blackened and damaged box which had once provided them a window into the outside world.

“Yeah, too bad,” Christina said. “We're gonna make it, Janice. All is not lost.”

Janice looked back at her with uncertainty. “I hope you’re right.”

Christina grabbed Janice's arm. “All right. Let's go get Mark and James,” she said with enthusiasm. They turned to the stairs, still in pretty good shape, and ran up quickly, fleeing the house in excitement.

It had cooled off through the past week, and the overcast sky was comforting despite their misfortunes. James and Mark stood over Mark's demolished Plymouth, looking at the engine. The windshield had been smashed and the hood was dented in. They had to pry it open with a crowbar. Nothing was left of the fuel storage shed, the origin of the fire. James's truck fared no better, as its front end had been crushed in as well. Broken glass was everywhere. The tires on both vehicles had flattened, and their engines appeared damaged beyond repair. Any hope that either vehicle would start fled once they got the hoods open.

“Son of a bitch,” Mark said. “We sure have some luck. Both vehicles taken out by the same branch. Who would have thought?”

“It's not good, Mark. I'll be honest. We're in a very tight spot,” James said, rubbing the temples of his forehead. Both men's faces, arms, and hands were covered in soot, oil stains, and grease.

“So what now?” Mark asked.

James turned around and surveyed the house. It had been thoroughly destroyed inside and out, though the walls were still standing. “We can always try to rebuild,” he said.

Mark turned to look at the house. “I don't know, James. Where would we even start?”

Suddenly, Christina and Janice emerged running from the house with smiles on their faces.

“What could they possibly be smiling about?” Mark asked.

“We have food! The basement wasn't destroyed,” Christina said, drawing closer. She stopped with Janice close by as they both took a moment to catch their breaths.

“Food?” Mark asked. “Where?”

“In the basement,” Janice answered. “Weapons too.”

James’s eyes widened. “The gun safe was undamaged?”

Both James and Mark hadn't had a chance to do more than a hurried walk-through of the house as their primary focus was on repairing the vehicles, even though the prospect of any successful repair work was slim.

“It's there, all right. Plenty of ammunition too,” Christina said.

“Damn right,” Mark said, pumping his fist into the air. “That's what I call a break!”

“Any luck on the vehicles?” Janice asked, peering into the engine of their Plymouth.

“None whatsoever,” Mark said. One look at their car and any insurance company would classify it as totaled. But it was all they had. Strangely enough, car insurance companies seemed a thing of the past. The damage to cars from all over could potentially collapse the entire industry, but that was the last thing on their minds.

“Let's strategize here,” James said, taking a step back from the car. He pulled at the tuft of his beard. Mark, Janice, and Christina were eager for a plan. After everything that had happened, there was still an inherent trust in James's judgment and decisions. Mark, however, felt the need to state what was to him, the obvious.

“I've been thinking. We're about, what, twenty miles from town? I say we suck it up, make the journey on foot, and rejoin civilization. I mean, we could do a lot worse, right?”

There was no immediate response, and it was hard to gauge where the group stood on the matter. James looked up into the gray sky, relieved that the sun was hidden behind clouds for the time being. “Looks like we got some rain on the horizon,” he said.

“Not a moment too soon,” Mark said with bitterness.

“I know everyone wants a solution, but consider a few things first before we go marching into town,” James said.

Christina looked over to see Paula patiently waiting and signaled her to join them. “Paula, come here,” she said with a wave. “It's OK now.”

Paula walked up the hill leading to the backyard, scanning the side of the house as she passed by. It was hard to take her eyes off of it. Christina then looked to James. “Go on, I'm listening.”

James cleared his throat and continued. “We don't know what to expect once we get into town. I understand we’re anxious to know what is really going on out there. We want answers, I understand that. Before we take the big leap, I suggest we continue with our original plan of visiting the survival camp we heard about on the radio.”

“Why don't we just check the radio now? Maybe they're bringing the power grids back up,” Mark interjected.

“The radio is toast,” Christina answered. “Can't get a thing out of it.”

“Did it catch on fire?” Mark asked.

“Nope, it just doesn't work,” Christina said.

“You guys tried everything?” Mark asked.

“You're welcome to try to get it working yourself,” she replied.

“Please,” James said, holding his hand up. “Let me continue.” He began to talk with his hands, the same way he did during his class lectures. There was no doubting James's abilities as a speaker, but convincing the group to venture to a place they knew nothing of and staying with people they knew nothing about was going to take some work. “Like I said earlier, I have the coordinates. We have a map and compass. Fortunately Mark grabbed it. I know how to use both.”

“No one doubts your abilities, James,” Janice said with sincerity.

“How about you lead us into town?” Mark asked.

“Mark, please,” Janice said, feeling embarrassed by his flippant attitude. For the sake of the group, Mark tried to suppress his growing frustrations, but it still came out in random spurts.

“According to this,” James said, holding up the map of surrounding Milledgeville, “We're not too far from the survival camp. Maybe ten miles or less. I'm not suggesting that we go to the camp with open arms and expose the group to more danger, but I believe it's in our best interest to at least make contact with the people there. They're preppers, just like us. I think we all have our own skills to bring to the table, and that could help our standing among them.”

“But we know nothing about them,” Mark said. “They could be a roaming band of psychopathic cannibals for all we know.”

Christina began to show doubt as well. “We have to consider Terrance and my sons as well. You suggested leaving a note, but why not just camp here until they get back? They have a van we can all easily fit in. All we have to do is wait a while, and we can get away from this godforsaken area once and for all.”

“I agree that waiting seems logical,” James said. “The problem is that this area has been compromised. It's not safe here anymore.”

“What do you mean by that exactly?” Christina asked.

“I mean that out of those four men we assisted yesterday, two came back to steal our vehicles last night, and now they're dead. The other two are out there somewhere. Who knows? They could be out for revenge. Seeing as we have little to barter with now, I wouldn't suggest hanging around here to find out.”

Scott's body still lay in the backyard. They had put a blanket over him. There wasn't much left of Bryce. They talked of burying him, but dealing with dead bodies was a new experience for everyone.

“You really want to go to this survival camp, don't you?” Mark asked.

“I believe it's our only practical option given the circumstances,” James said.

Janice looked at Christina for guidance. They had become closer over the past week. Janice admired her greatly.

Christina shook her head. “I don't want to hold anyone up. I think it's a good plan, but I can't leave this place until Terrance gets back. I already left my boy Richie behind. I won't do it again.”

James shifted in place while attempting to be as diplomatic as possible. “We have to stick together, Christina. That's all that matters right now.” He looked to Mark. “Right?” he asked.

“Yes, I agree,” Mark said.

Janice placed her hand over Christina's. “We couldn't live with ourselves leaving you and Paula out here by yourselves.”