Days Of Perdition: Voodoo Plague Book 6 (2 page)

Katie poured three shots that were all downed quickly.  The
ice-cold alcohol was smooth at first, but blossomed into a pleasant fire when
it hit her stomach.  She wanted a second shot, but was more concerned with
keeping her head clear.  Her guests weren’t so pragmatic.  When Katie didn’t
pour another round Mike picked up the bottle and refilled his and his wife’s
glasses.  The second shots disappeared as quickly as the first and he was
reaching for a third when Katie put her hand on his.

“Maybe that’s enough for now, Mike.”  She said.  “We need to
stay sharp.”

Janice pushed their hands out of the way and poured herself a
third, which she swallowed in a single gulp, refilling her glass before Katie
could take the bottle away and return it to the freezer.

“OK, that’s really enough.”  She said, her tone firm.  “I
don’t need either of you getting drunk.”

Mike nodded and they moved to the couches arranged in the
large room where the TV was located.

The news was looping footage from military drones showing
the devastation of New York City.  The anchor had caught his stride and was
narrating non-stop, managing to not give out any new information while at the
same time not repeating himself.  Then they cut away to a video that had been
uploaded from LA.  It had obviously been shot with a cell phone and showed two
mushroom clouds climbing into the evening sky.

The video lasted for nearly a minute and the three of them
were riveted to the screen.  When the video ended the network restarted it, the
anchor continuing to babble about the horrific attacks.  He said he wouldn’t
speculate on who was responsible, then immediately opined that the attacks were
most likely the work of a radical Islamist terrorist group.

Katie shook her head at the man’s ignorance.  This wasn’t
terrorism.  This was a state sponsored attack.  An act of war.  She well knew
how dangerous the terrorists were, but the thought of any group being able to
get there hands on what was being reported as a minimum of ten nuclear weapons,
and use them in such a precise and coordinated manner was ludicrous.  This was
most likely North Korea or Iran.  It had to be some country with leaders that
were so out of touch with reality that they thought they could successfully
attack the US and get away with it.

The images on the screen changed again, switching to a
reporter in Chicago, drawing Katie’s attention back to the TV.

“…thousands of people have been affected by whatever was
released from the small plane, perhaps tens of thousands.”  The reporter was a
blonde woman, standing on a street corner in downtown Chicago.  In the
background dozens of bodies were clearly visible lying on the pavement, the
sidewalk or in one case draped across the hood of a car.  The respirator the
reporter was wearing muffled the woman’s voice, and she would have looked
ridiculous if not for the terror that was plain in her eyes.

She started talking again, babbling on about a plane and something
having been released into the air.  As she was speaking, several of the bodies
in the background began moving.  The cameraman must have alerted her.  She
turned to look, then started walking towards them, the camera following.  A man
climbed to his feet on the far side of the street, staggering like he was
either drunk or hurt.  Moments later two women stood up, looking around and
spotting the reporter that was coming towards them.

Katie, Mike and Janice stared in shock as the two women
screamed and charged directly at the reporter.  The woman froze, unsure what
was happening, and was tackled to the street a moment before the camera
operator was either taken down or dropped the camera and ran.  The reporter was
still half in the shot as the two females tore her apart, her screams abruptly
being cut off when one of them locked her teeth onto the woman’s throat and
tore it out.

“What the fuck was that?”  Mike shouted, leaping to his
feet. 

Katie had stood up also, fear pulsing through her body.  The
screen changed to images of what looked like riots in Detroit, Dallas, Miami
and Atlanta.  When Atlanta came on the screen, Katie stopped breathing.

Downtown Atlanta was a nightmare.  The streets were full of
running women and stumbling men.  Finally the footage from Atlanta ended and
they were looking at thousands of people tearing others apart with their bare
hands in Seattle.

“What’s going on?”  Mike asked again.  Katie looked at him
but couldn’t respond, turning her attention back to the TV as it cut to Atlanta
again.

Fires were burning in several large buildings in the
downtown area.  A local TV station actually had a helicopter in the air, and it
was zeroed in on the fast moving flames.  As they watched, fire leapt a narrow
alley, igniting the building next to one that was already burning furiously.

Katie dashed back outside and as soon as the sat phone had
signal she hit redial.  John’s phone didn’t even ring.  All she heard was an
error message telling her the network was temporarily unavailable.  Hitting the
end button to silence the repeating message, fear for John gripped her heart
and it took every ounce of her self-control to hold back the tears that were
threatening to start.

She’d never made a trip to Atlanta with her husband.  She
knew he was in one of the cities that was in the metropolitan Atlanta area, but
had no idea which one or how far it was from downtown.  Why the hell hadn’t she
paid more attention?

Looking up through the glass door, she could see Mike and
Janice still glued to the TV.  What was she going to do?  What could she do? 
Katie wandered over to where John stashed his cigarettes, for the first time in
ten years wanting one to help her think.  John thought he was hiding them from
her.  He was cute like that, she thought, and couldn’t help but smile. 
Retrieving the pack and some matches she lit one and slowly lowered herself
onto a padded patio chair.

Was the Phoenix area safe?  That was the first question. 
How many and which cities had been attacked with the nerve gas?  So far, from
the news, she knew that Chicago, Detroit, Miami, Atlanta and Seattle had
fallen.  But where else?  This was a well coordinated, professionally planned
and executed strike on America.  There would be more cities.  But how many
more?

And what about John?  Katie well knew what he was capable
of, having witnessed it for herself live and in person the night they’d met. 
But Atlanta was what, 2,000 miles away?  How could she ever hope he’d be able
to make his way home?  The thought of trying to get to Atlanta passed through
her head, but was completely dismissed as foolish.  Even if she made it, which
was very unlikely, the possibility of finding John was basically zero.

Drawing deep on the cigarette, she checked on the Wilsons. 
They were still on the couch, staring at more horror unfolding on the screen.  Mike
Wilson was a pilot and he had his own plane!  How the hell had she forgotten
that?  Jabbing the butt into a small ashtray John also kept hidden, Katie leapt
to her feet and charged into the house.

“Mike, you still have a plane.  Right?”  She asked.

“Yeah.  Why?”  He turned to look at her and she could see
the terror in his face from watching the TV.

“Can it make it to Atlanta?”  She asked.

“It could.  But you really can’t be thinking about going
there.  The fire is spreading and they’re saying the whole city will be burning
by morning.”  Katie could hear the panic in his voice.

She rushed into the kitchen and grabbed the vodka out of the
freezer, pouring two small shots and carrying them to the couch where Mike and
Janice were sitting.  Both of them grabbed the glasses like the liquid was
their salvation, tipping them up and downing the drinks.  Mike coughed once,
wiped his mouth and looked at Katie.

“There have to be plenty of airfields in the area that are
clear of the fire.”  Katie said, realizing how foolish it sounded as soon as
she said it.  Even if they could make it into the area, where did she start
looking?  For that matter, John wasn’t going to just sit still and wait for her
to come find him.  She knew better than to think that.  Damn it, what did she
do?

The Wilsons seemed settled in and Katie decided not to ask
them to leave.  Together, they sat and watched the news unfolding from around
the country as more and more cities began to fall to the nerve gas attacks.  By
11:00 PM, Arizona time, the news stations had set up a reporting format similar
to what they used on national election nights to tally the number and location
of attacks.  At a little after 11:30 the anchor said the President would be
giving a speech to the nation from aboard Air Force One, but as time wore on
they never cut away from the frightening reports from around the country.

Katie made at least twenty more attempts to reach John with
the satellite phone, none successful.  Looking up numbers he’d given her for
co-workers and friends, she tried each of them, but none of the calls were
going through.  At 12:30 she thought about food.  She wasn’t hungry.  She
suddenly realized that the damage to America’s infrastructure was so
significant that deliveries to grocery stores were probably a thing of the
past.

Standing in the middle of the kitchen she looked around then
opened the pantry and surveyed its contents.  Not much on hand, and similar
results when she checked the refrigerator.  She and John were in the habit of
only shopping for a couple of days of food at a time.  They primarily only ate
fresh foods, preferring organics, and as a result there was no stock of canned
or frozen foods in their home to fall back on.

“We need to go get food.  Now.”  She said to the Wilsons,
distracting them from a report out of Memphis that showed a sea of people
surging forward to attack a hospital.

“If you’re hungry we’ve got plenty of food at our place.” 
Janice said, looking confused.

“That’s not what I mean,” Katie said.  “Look at what’s going
on.  There’s not going to be any more deliveries of food for some time to
come.  We need to stock up before it’s too late.  I’m going to the Safeway. 
They’re open 24 hours.  You should come with me.  We can fill up the truck.”

“She’s right,” Mike said, standing up.  Janice remained
seated on the sofa, looking frightened.

“Janice, Mike and I will go.  You stay here and see if the
President comes on.”  Katie was actually relieved to have an excuse to leave
the woman at home.  She and Mike could move faster without her.

“If you think that’s best, dear.”  Janice sounded relieved.

Katie led the way to the garage, grabbing the shotgun on the
way through the door.  She and Mike climbed into the truck, Katie starting the
engine a moment before pushing the button to raise the door.  She backed out of
the garage and down the long driveway, accelerating towards the gates that
guarded access to their neighborhood.

The grocery store was only a few miles away and they drove
in silence.  There weren’t any other vehicles on the road, which was slightly
comforting for Katie.  “But this is only a few hours old,” she thought to
herself.

Safeway was on the corner of a major intersection, the lot
brightly lit when Katie steered into it.  It was rare that she or John had been
shopping this late and she was mildly surprised that there were only half a
dozen cars in the parking lot.  She didn’t know if this was normal or not,
parking with a few empty spaces between her and the closest vehicle.  The last
time she’d been to the store after midnight was two years ago when John was
sick with the flu and she’d run out to pick up some medicine for him.

She and Mike stepped out and for a brief moment Katie
thought about bringing the shotgun with her, but decided that wasn’t a good
idea at this point.  Things should still be fairly normal, so she locked the
weapon in the cab of the truck.  She did have the holstered .45 and had no
qualms about walking around with it.

As they approached the automatic glass doors, both of them
paused to read a large hand lettered sign that announced that credit card
processing was down and the store was only accepting cash.

“There’s an ATM inside,” Mike said.  “Maybe it’s still
working.”

They stepped forward, the doors sliding open at their
approach.  To their left were the checkout lanes.  Three men with several
shopping carts piled to overflowing were arguing with the cashier.  The clerk
was telling them that he had no way to accept a credit card, and they had to
pay in cash.  A man that was most likely the night manager was walking swiftly
towards the commotion at the register.

Mike started toward the ATM, which was close to the
confrontation, but Katie placed a hand on his arm to stop him.  The men with
the full carts weren’t backing off, and she didn’t like the vibe she was
getting from their body language.  Instead she headed to the right, Mike in tow,
fading into the produce area of the store.  They had just stepped behind a
large table loaded with apples and pears when several gunshots sounded from the
front of the store.

Drawing her pistol, Katie pushed Mike towards the back of
the building, urging him into a run.  She didn’t know if the men had noticed
them come in or not, or if they would even worry about witnesses to their
crime, but she didn’t want to stand around and find out.  Ahead she could see a
set of stainless steel swinging doors that led to the stock area and she
charged through, Mike on her heels.

Two teenagers, a boy and a girl dressed in jeans and Safeway
T-shirts, were just inside the door.  Katie ran into the boy when she slammed
through the doors, knocking him to the floor.  She stumbled but was able to
recover.  The girl stood looking at her, eyes wide with fear as she stared at
the pistol.  The boy wound up on his back, scrambling away from the crazy woman
with the gun.

“Don’t hurt us!”  He cried as he kept scooting away.  Mike
stepped around Katie and reached out for the boy.

“Quiet!  Some men just shot your cashier and we’re hiding
from them.”  He said.

Katie scanned the area and not seeing anyone else moved to
the swinging doors and peered through the small glass windows.  One of the men
she’d seen arguing at the register was standing in the produce section, a
chrome revolver in his hand, looking around.  He spotted the doors she was
hiding behind and started walking in her direction.

“Who else is in the store?”  Katie asked the frightened
girl.

“Why?”  She asked.

“Because the men that shot your cashier and manager are
walking around out there looking for witnesses.”

“Oh my God!”  The girl said.  A moment later she started
crying.

“Just the four of us,” the boy said from the floor.  “Julie
and I clean and take product out for Bob and Tim to stock.  They’re really
dead?”

“Yes they are, and one of the killers is coming.  Is there a
back way out of here?”  Katie asked.

The boy swallowed nervously, then climbed to his feet. 
“This way,” he said, grabbing Julie’s arm and pulling her along as he led the
way to the rear wall where a man door was located next to a large rolling door.

A push bar ran across the middle of the door, a large paddle
attached to it with a red warning sticker stating an alarm would sound if
pressed.  The boy fished a key out of his pocket and used it to unlock a
spring-loaded deadbolt, letting them open the door without having to use the
bar.  They moved through quickly, Katie softly closing the door behind them.

They were on the store’s loading dock.  A ramp next to them
allowed semi trailers to be backed up to the rolling door.  A large mercury
vapor light was set high in the wall over their heads, brightly illuminating
the whole area.  Katie led the way off the dock and past a pair of stinking
dumpsters, then into the dark at the end of the store.

Hugging the wall they moved to the front edge of the
building.  They stood in darkness, Katie and Mike looking around the corner
into the well-lit parking lot.  Two of the men were loading food into two
different vehicles.  The third man wasn’t in sight.  They had just finished
emptying the shopping carts when the third came running out of the front of the
store, several cartons of cigarettes under one arm and big bottle of liquor in
his hand.

The man with the booze shoved the carts away to roll across
the parking lot where one slammed into the passenger door of John’s truck. 
Katie wished John was here to kick the man’s ass, but settled for being happy
when all three of them jumped into their vehicles and sped away.  Taking a deep
breath she holstered the pistol and grabbed Mike’s arm.

“Let’s go,” she said.  “The store’s empty.”

“What?  We have to call the police!  They just murdered two
people.”  He sounded like he was in shock.

“Fine.  If you can find a working phone, you call them.” 
Katie said.  “This is just the beginning.  We need to get what we came for and
get out of here.”

Katie turned and looked at the two teenagers.  Julie was
still crying, the boy holding her as she sobbed.  “You two should go home. 
Now.  Go be with your families.” 

The boy looked at her and nodded, leading Julie out into the
parking lot and helping her get into a lowered Honda Civic.  He got behind the
wheel and it started with a high-pitched snarl of exhaust, then he roared away
with a squealing of tires.

“The police would want to talk to them,” Mike said,
following Katie to the front of the store where she grabbed two carts.  She
paused and turned to look at him.

“Mike, you’ve seen what’s happening.  The police aren’t
going to come.  How many of them do you think have already gone home to protect
their families?  We can’t count on them, or anyone other than ourselves.  You
just have to trust that I know what I’m talking about.  Now, we need to load up
some carts and get the hell out of here before more people show up and decide
to take away what’s ours.”

Katie pushed the two carts through the automatic doors at a
trot, heading for the aisle with canned foods first.  A few moments later she
heard the doors open again, followed by the wobbly squeal of shopping cart
wheels as Mike followed her back into the store.

When they returned to the house Janice was still seated on
the sofa, but the bottle of vodka was sitting on the table in front of her. 
Katie eyed it and noted the level of the alcohol was significantly lower than
the last time she’d put it away.  Picking the bottle up she made sure the cap
was tight and returned it to the freezer.  Janice was visibly drunk, staring at
the TV with watery eyes, slurring her words as she talked to her husband.

“We should go to Mexico until this all blows over.”  She
said.  “We could stay with the Allens in Cabo for a while.”

Mike looked at her, thinking about it for a moment before
turning to Katie.  “You should come with us.  It’s a six hour flight in my
plane.  We can leave a note for John.”

“I can’t leave,” Katie shook her head.  “Not yet.  If
there’s anyone that can make it home, it’s him.  But you two should go if you
have a place to stay.  I’m afraid it’s going to get really bad here.”

Katie didn’t really want to be alone, but she sure wasn’t
interested in having to be responsible for the Wilsons.  She knew Janice liked
to drink, and it was looking like that was going to be a problem.  A problem
she didn’t need.

Mike stood in thought, looking around at the TV as footage
of Atlanta burning played on the screen.  He looked at Katie and nodded his
head, leaning down and taking his wife’s hands and pulling her to her feet.

“We’re going to go get ready to go.  We’ll be leaving in
about fifteen minutes if you change your mind.”

Katie stepped forward and hugged each of them, wishing them
luck, then walked them to the front door and securely bolted it when they
exited.  With a sigh of relief she went to the garage and started carrying armloads
of canned goods into the house.  She worked for some time, sorting out the food
she’d looted from the grocery store.

Two cases of bottled water were brought into the house, but
she left four more in the truck.  She also left a couple of week’s worth of
food, not wanting to contemplate having to make a quick departure, but knowing
she needed to be prepared.  Food distributed between the house and the truck,
she went back to the gun safe and pulled the door open.

Already knowing which rifle she wanted, Katie grabbed it out
of the safe, slapped in a loaded magazine and pulled the charging handle to put
a round into the chamber.  She rummaged in a closet until she found a larger
pack, stuffing it full of loaded magazines.  Unable to think of anything else
to do she returned to the TV, settling on the sofa with the rifle lying across
her lap.

The news was once again playing a loop of the drone footage
of the devastation in New York.  She cared about New York, cared about the
millions of people who were dead or dying, but she wanted them to switch back
to the coverage of Atlanta.  She had only been watching for a couple of minutes
when the screen went blank, then displayed the banner for the Emergency
Broadcast System accompanied by a high pitched, dual tone alert. 

Grabbing the remote, Katie changed the channel but all she
could find was the same EBS alert.  With rising panic she snatched up her iPad
to check for news of anything on social media, but the Internet connection was
down.  She was cut off from any source of information.