Warfare Season: An Apocalyptic Thriller (2 page)

However, the destruction
left behind was heavy. And it was likely that the terrorists would
return soon enough for another round of what they did best.

Austin had never bothered
calling 9-1-1. He figured they were already overloaded with too many
phone calls.

The power was still off,
but his generators were still holding up okay. It had cooled off
enough for him to turn off the air conditioner.

He could hear Gerald
screaming from across the alley as loud as ever. Austin opened a
window and listened in. It turned out that Gerald's car had been
stolen. Apparently Gerald didn't realize how fortunate he was that
nothing worse had happened. Austin shook his head and closed the
window.

Many residents were leaving
the city in droves to stay with their relatives out in the burbs.
Cars with suitcases tied down to the roof were finding ways to
maneuver through the torn up streets and vacate the city. Austin
thought about doing the same, but he had nowhere to go. Everyone he
knew lived right there in the city with him.

Austin's adrenaline
skyrocketed the second he saw a car with heavily tinted windows slow
down and park in front of his house. Since he had never seen the type
of make and model on his block before, he knew it didn't belong to
any of his neighbors. The tinted windows made it nearly impossible to
see inside, but no one was getting out of the car. The engine was
just idling, and the driver and passengers just seemed to be sitting
there.

Aside from the remains of
shattered glass from the broken bottles scattered across the
pavement, the street was still passable.

The car engine finally
turned off. All of the car doors opened at once. Four terrorists
rushed out of the car and slammed the doors shut. One of them had a
bottle of malt liquor in his hand. Another one was holding a bottle
of hard liquor.

“
We're not done yet,”
one of them said. “We gonna party. You think we going back home
already? We gonna party.”

They began shouting
obnoxiously. They were celebrating, like a group of pirates that had
just taken over the land while enjoying their loot.

Although Austin was feeling
tired and disillusioned, his hammering heartbeat kept his eyes open
and raised his senses. He wasn't sure if it would be better to use
the generator to turn on the light or just leave it off. If he left a
light on, it might just cause his house to stand out in the dark,
making it more noticeable. If he turned it off, they might assume
that no one was home, thus prompting them to break in.

He left the lights off.

The group disappeared down
the street, leaving their car in front of Austin's house. They fired
gunshots up in the air along the way. It didn't surprise him. In his
area, they would fire gunshots in the air to celebrate at midnight on
New Year's Eve.

The city he lived in was
never safe, but this was the first time he had ever felt a serious
threat of danger. It was breathing on him like never before.

He set up a mattress,
pillow, and blanket in between a homemade barricade in order to avoid
any stray gunfire that might come roaring through the walls or
windows; his coffee table to his left; his main couch to his right; a
smaller couch in front of him; and a stack of weight plates that he
had brought up from the basement behind him.

Sleep finally came, but not
before tossing and turning for an hour and a half; and not before
looking up to see the early rising sun peering in through the living
room shades.

Austin
got up at three o' clock in the afternoon, wishing that he had woken
up from a nightmare.

He
had been hearing a strange sound in his sleep that he hadn't bothered
to investigate until now. It was the sound of the national guard
patrolling the streets.

Good
,
he thought initially.
At least order is being restored.
But
when he tried to turn on a light, it didn't work. The power had still
not been restored.

Aside
from the power still not being restored, there was another problem.
Tanks were traveling down the street. In disbelief as much as denial,
he had to look twice. Now he had a horrid feeling; an even worse
feeling than he had the night before during the terrorist attack.

Fewer
things concerned him more than the idea of martial law being
blatantly imposed. At least terrorists gave you a chance to fight and
die. Trained, armed professionals just gave you a chance to die or
die slower. It was more difficult to fight back against an army than
a group of ordinary terrorists.

He
used one of the generators to turn on the T.V. Nearly every station
was broadcasting the breaking news. The terrorist attacks weren't
just local; they were happening all around the world, but only in the
urban areas. The downtown area in his city had been largely
destroyed, including major buildings. After watching the global news,
he picked out a local station and watched it.

After
viewing some video footage of the flaming wreckage, the scene was
transferred back to the news anchor:
Many local residents whose
houses had been burned down are being rescued and sent to emergency
camps, where they are receiving food, water, and shelter. The rest of
the residents are being asked to remain in their homes for now.
Shopping centers and other local businesses will be closed until
further notice. Those who are in need of food, water, or other
necessary supplies should call the number at the bottom of your
screen. A curfew will also be enforced starting tonight.

After
it went to a commercial break, he switched over to another news
channel:
Many of the residents have been left without power.
Although they are working on the problem, it's unclear when the power
will be restored. Housing assistance is available to those
—

Austin
clicked it off gravely.

He
went into the kitchen and had a late breakfast, trying to temporarily
detach from gruesome reality.

Roughly
estimated, there was a big enough food storage in his house to last
him approximately three months, factoring in a three thousand calorie
per day diet. He also had five gallons of water stashed away,
although the water still seemed to be running okay for the time
being. He also had a twenty-four pack of smaller water bottles.

His
supplies wouldn't be enough to live off of if the stores never opened
again.

The
sound of the doorbell startled Austin.
It's the military,
he
thought.
They're here to search the house and interrogate me.
He
looked through the window above the front door.

It
was Eddie.

Austin
opened the door and said hello.

Eddie
looked dismal. He stared back at Austin, not saying anything.

“
What's
up, Eddie?”

“
Hello,”
Eddie said, trying to sound enthusiastic and upbeat. “I know in
a time like this, it might sound like a lot to ask, but. . . do you
have a gallon of water that you could spare?”

“
Sure,”
he said without hesitation. “You know what, I'll have to dig it
up out of storage, so it might take a minute. Do you want to come
in?”

Eddie
stepped in. “I'd appreciate it.”

“
Yeah.
Hopefully, I won't need any of them, anyway. I have a water filter
pitcher. The gallons of water are just there in case the tap water
comes out all grimy or something. But it seems to be okay so far.”

“
Oh,
you have a water filter? That's what me and Anna should have gotten a
long time ago. But she doesn't drink anything but bottled water.”

Austin
went down to the basement and checked the expiration date on the
water, before bringing up a gallon. “Here you go. It doesn't
expire until late next year, although it's somewhat widely believed
that bottled water never expires.”

“
Yeah,
it's not like it's a dairy product or anything,” Eddie agreed.
“I'm hoping this will get us through the next couple of days.
Maybe the stores will reopen by then.” He looked over at
droning air conditioner. “You got generators running?”

“
Yeah.
If this was winter, I wouldn't need them as much. I tolerate the cold
really well, but I don't like the heat.”

“
My
wife's the same way,” Eddie said.

Austin
looked out the living room window at the army patrolling the streets.
“It doesn't look like these troops are gonna clear out of
here.”

“
Nah,”
Eddie said, shaking his head in agreement. “Not anytime soon,
anyway. This is martial law we're talking about here.” He
turned around and headed for the door.

“
How's
everything else?” Austin asked.

“
Can't
complain. All things considered, it could be a lot worse. I actually
had my car parked in front of the house last night. I didn't put it
in the garage until this morning. I noticed a dent on it that I had
never seen before, but that's about it. Gerald got his car stolen.”

“
I
know. I heard him out there yelling about it.”

Eddie
sighed. “It's crazy.” He reached for the door.

“
Are
you going to stick around? Or are you going to leave town?”

Eddie
turned back around to face Austin. “If anybody was gonna leave,
last night would have been the time. They've got roadblocks set up
all over the place. If you want to go anywhere now, you're gonna have
to through a series of security checkpoints. At the checkpoints,
they've been telling most people to just go back home. I don't think
they want anyone leaving town.”

Austin
froze, as a wave of depression crept over him.

“
Well,
thanks for the water.”

“
No
problem,” Austin croaked.

The
door opened and closed.

Austin
looked back out the window in revulsion. Then he looked down at his
cellphone. Surprisingly, there had been no calls that day. He assumed
that his friends were busy attending to their families. Family always
came first in emergencies; friends came second.

With
his place of business closed, he was already starting to experience
cabin fever. Nothing was open, except for the dire emergency camps
and his collection of horrid memories from the night before.

He
had read up on stuff like this before in hopes of preparing himself
for worst-case-scenarios. But it was nearly impossible to completely
prepare for situations that a person had never experienced before.
Research was good, but hands-on-training was better. Real knowledge
came from painful experience, and he dreaded having to learn the hard
way.

It had been five days since
the big attack. The troops were still patrolling the streets, and the
businesses were still closed. More and more people were flooding into
the emergency camps after they ran out of options for food and water.

The power was still off,
and the stores were still closed. Surprisingly, Eddie had not stopped
by to ask for another gallon of water. It was likely that he decided
to ask someone else, not wanting to sponge too much off of any person
in particular.

Austin liked getting out of
the house, but every time he did, he would get harassed by the law
enforcers. They would always stop him and ask a ridiculous amount of
questions. Growing tired of it, he had been staying inside as much as
possible.

Since it now became very
possible that this was going to be a long-term situation, he had
decided to cut down on his food and water intake, being more
conservative than he had been the previous few days.

“
Hey!” a voice
in the street shouted. It was one of the officers.

A twelve year old kid had
been throwing stones at the army tanks for the past couple of days,
along with several other kids that were throwing bottles. Last time
the kid had gotten caught, he had froze, before walking away. This
time, he ducked behind a parked car instead of trying to get away.

They began opening fire.

Austin couldn't believe it.
They were going to shoot and kill a twelve year old kid for throwing
a few stones at an armored tank.

“
I told you three
times already to stop throwing those rocks over here!” the
officer shouted. He fired again, sending a storm of bullets in the
twelve year old's direction.

When
they finally seized fire, Austin watched in horror as they pulled a
disfigured corpse out from behind the car.

The
street he lived on was literally a combat zone.