In The End: a pre-apocalypse novel (18 page)

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Continue reading for a preview
of “In
The
End – 2: An American Apocalypse”

In The End - 2
An
American Apocalypse

Copyright
2015
Edward M Wolfe

All
rights reserved.

Terry drove the RV west on Interstate 70. Jim rode shotgun,
literally, with a Mossberg 500 Police Special resting partially on his lap with
the barrel on the dashboard. An open box of 12 gauge shells sat on the center
console. They weren’t necessarily expecting trouble, but they were a bit spooked
by the fact that they hadn’t seen Carl’s body anywhere as they drove away from
the lodge. If he wasn’t dead, then he could be sitting somewhere plotting
revenge. He could be sitting somewhere in view of the highway, with a rifle.
Jim kept his eyes peeled for people or vehicles as Terry focused on the road.

Trey and Monica sat on one side of the small dining table
with Tori sitting across from them. Angela and Liz had the best room in the
moving house. They were in the bedroom napping, until it was someone else’s
turn to have the bed. Terry drove slowly and cautiously over the unplowed
highway.

“I don’t think it would be that much trouble to find a
motorcycle trailer. It just really sucks leaving my bike behind.” Trey spoke
quietly so as not to be overheard by Jim and Terry who had vetoed the idea of
spending time looking for a trailer. They wanted to find someplace to finish
out the winter.
Someplace with clean drinking water.

“We’ll come back and get it. Don’t worry,” Monica said,
trying to console him.

“Yeah.
If it’s
not stolen by then.”

Tori was
less sympathetic. “Trey,
have you noticed there’s hardly anyone up here? If you consider the tiny
population that’s still on the mountain – what are the odds of there being a
bike thief among them?”

“You’re probably right,” he replied, but didn’t look very
assured. “I just feel naked without it.”

Neither of the women understood. They were both leaving
their cars behind, and while they weren’t thrilled with the idea, they weren’t
despondent either. They could always come back for them. Or if America was in
the middle of world war three, they might just have their pick of replacements.

Two blasts from a trucker’s air horn sounded and the three
of them quickly got up from the table and went for the windows on the other
side of the RV to watch the truck go past.

“Did you guys see that?” Trey called out toward the front of
the vehicle.

“Yeah.
That might be a good sign.
He could be bringing in supplies,” Terry replied.

“Or body bags,” Jim said.

Trey walked up the narrow path to the cab of the RV. He
stood behind the front seats, holding onto the swivel chair a few feet behind
the passenger seat and offset toward the center.

“Did you see what company that semi was from?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Jim replied, “It was
haulin
’
a
WalMart
trailer.”

“Maybe we should turn around and try to catch up to him.
Find out what it’s like west of here.”

“We’d never catch up,” Terry replied. “With no chains, we
have to drive way too slow.”

“Besides,” Jim added, “there’s a town
comin
’
up in about—“

A loud crack sounded and Terry flew back in his seat,
grabbing his neck. The RV swerved sharply to the right and off of the road.
Trey was thrown to the left, lost his balance and fell. Jim reached for the
steering wheel and tried to gain control of the large, unwieldy vehicle.”

“What the fuck!?”
Jim shouted.

“I’ve been shot,” Terry said, looking at his blood-covered
hands.

Jim took his eyes off the road for a quick glance at Terry.
“Somebody, help!”

Terry slid down off the driver’s seat to make room for Jim
to take over. Jim hopped over him as he continued to wrestle the RV back onto
the road. Trey crawled over to Terry and began pulling him backwards to get his
feet out from under the dash. Tori and Monica cautiously approached,
then
both of them swayed to the side and lost their footing
as the RV went into a ditch and came to an abrupt halt.

Angela emerged from the back of the RV carrying Elizabeth
who was crying. She comforted the little girl as she took in the scene in front
of her with a
groggy
mind.

“What happened? Did we crash?”

Tori got up and rushed over to meet Angela halfway, taking
her daughter from her. She whispered in Angela’s ear, “Terry got shot.”

“Oh no!”
Angela rushed up to where
Monica and Trey were kneeling next to Terry’s head. Monica was holding a bloody
kitchen towel to his neck.

“I think I’m okay, you guys. Either I’m not hurt very badly,
or I’m in shock. How does it look?”

Monica took the towel away and carefully wiped at the blood
around the wound. She saw a piece of glass sticking out of Terry’s neck.

“Hold still!”

Monica grasped the glass with her fingernails and slowly
pulled it out. Blood came pouring out of the unblocked hole in his flesh.

Jim joined the small crowd in the walkway. “How is he? Is it
bad?”

“I don’t see a bullet hole anywhere.
Just
a piece of the windshield that got embedded in his neck.”
She looked
around the rest of his upper body, scouting for any other bleeding or holes in
his clothing.

“You need to take off his shirt to make sure. He’s got blood
all over it.” Tori sat at the dining table with Liz, directing them from afar.

As Trey and Monica examined Terry for other injuries, Jim
peered over the console through the windshield. He scouted the terrain of trees
and mountainside, looking for the shooter. He couldn’t spot anyone or anything
moving. He closed the divider that blocked off the front seats.

“You guys keep this closed. I’m going outside to find
whoever did this.”

Monica bolted up from the floor. “I’m going with you.”

“No. Stay here and help with Terry.”

“I think between Angela, Trey and Tori, they’ve got it
covered. I’m going.”

“Someone just
sniped
Terry. It’s
not safe out there.”

“Then it’s not safe for you either. How would you like it if
I told you to stay here while
I
go out and look for the sniper?”

“Fine.
Are you better with a rifle,
shotgun, or pistol?”

Monica hesitated,
then
opened one
of the lower cabinets where they stored the weapons. She’d prefer a shotgun,
but figured if someone was using a rifle against them, then she’d need a rifle
too. She grabbed an American Arms 9mm paratrooper rifle with a strap.

“Trey.
Can you shoot a rifle with a
scope?” Jim asked.

“I can try.”

“Open the partition just enough to see out, and try to cover
us. If you see anyone or anything move, shoot it. You don’t have to hit
anything, but if we hear a shot from behind us, we’ll know you spotted
something. Okay?”

“Yeah, Jim.
You got it.” Trey came
back to the cabinets and looked through the rifles until he found a hunting
rifle. He grabbed a Remington thirty-aught-six,
then
looked in a drawer with boxes of ammunition trying to figure out which box was
the right one.

Jim took a newer rifle from the cabinet, exchanged it for
the one Trey had, then handed him a box of .308 and went to the side door. He
opened it and looked both ways before jumping out and landing in deep snow. He
turned back toward the door and held out his hand for Monica. She made a face,
ignored his hand, and jumped out.

Angela found no other injuries on Terry so she bandaged his
neck and gave him a clean shirt from his duffel bag.

“I can’t believe someone just shot at you, driving down the
road. What is wrong with people? What if a bullet had hit Liz? Do people even
care about anything?”

Tori pulled her daughter closer to her and assured her that
everything was okay.

“Trey, let me see that,” Terry said, reaching for the rifle.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.
I’m fine.” Terry took the
rifle and looked through the scope with the barrel sticking through the gap in
the partition. He alternated closing one eye then the other, getting a broad
view, then the close-up view. “There’s someone! Damn. We need radios.”

“You’re supposed to shoot to alert them,” Trey said.

“I saw someone heading in the opposite direction. No one’s
in danger. But that’s probably the bastard that shot at me. I’m gonna go catch
up with Jim and Monica. Everyone should arm themselves in case there’s more
than just one guy.”

“I’ll make sure everyone here is safe.”

“You’ll need a close-range weapon, Trey.”

“Oh, right.” Trey went back to the lower cabinets and found
a shotgun. This time he knew what ammo to take from the drawer. He grabbed a
box of .12 gauge shells and went back to the front to look out the windshield.
He saw Jim and Monica slogging through the snow close to the tree-line five
yards away from the highway.

As he stood there watching them walk, he saw a snowball fly
through the air and land to the left of Monica. She and Jim swirled around,
aiming their rifles and ready to shoot, only to see Terry waving at them to
wait up.

Jim motioned for Terry to get closer to the trees where it
was easier to walk. Terry veered to the right,
then
when he reached the more shallow snow, he jogged and caught up with them.

“I saw someone up there,” he said, pointing to where he’d
seen the back of a man disappear into the trees going up the mountain. “Follow
me.”

“Did he have a rifle?” Jim asked.

“I couldn’t tell. I just saw the back of a parka slip
between branches and he was gone.”

Monica said, “It was him.”

Jim asked, “How do you know?”

“Because he just saw someone run off the road and then he
went in the opposite direction. If he wasn’t guilty, he would’ve come to see if
we were okay.”

“Not necessarily,” Jim replied.

They hiked uphill, following Terry’s lead,
then
they followed fresh footprints in the snow. When they
reached the point where Terry saw the man disappear, they stopped to catch
their breath.

“Stop right there. That’s far enough!”

The three of them froze and looked toward the voice but saw
no one.

“Drop your guns,” the voice said.

Jim scanned the woods ahead of him. He couldn’t see anyone,
but he saw which way the footprints went. He gestured to Monica and Terry to
back up a bit.

“Fuck you. Drop
your
gun. There’s three of us and one
of you,” Jim yelled back.

“I don’t want any trouble. Let’s just go our separate ways.”

“If you didn’t want trouble, why’d you shoot at us?”

“I’m sorry about that. I thought you were
them
Chinese what’s been
killin
’ everyone.”

“What are you talking about?” Jim wondered if they were dealing
with a lunatic.

Suddenly Monica bolted forward past the two men and rounded
the outcrop. She dropped her rifle and ran right up to the man and grabbed his
rifle, pulling it away from him and throwing it to the ground.

“Are you fucking crazy?” Jim yelled at her as he and Terry
came up behind her.

Monica grabbed the man’s jacket in her fists and repeatedly
slammed him into the rocky mountain wall behind him.

“Why did you shoot at us?” she screamed in his face.

“I didn’t know! Someone get her
offa
me!”

Jim snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her
backwards. “Come on. Let go!”

She reluctantly released the man’s parka from her grip and
let Jim pull her away. As soon as he let go of her, she picked up her rifle and
headed back down the mountain, following the path they had created on the way
up, breathing hard, and not saying another word.

“Is she your attack bitch?”

Terry hit the man with a right hook.

The man fell back against the wall of rock behind him and
brought a hand up to his face. He looked at it and saw blood, then looked at
Terry with a challenge in his eyes. Then he looked at Jim and changed his mind.
Jim was staring at him with no expression, but there was something dark in his
eyes.

“Here comes Monica, but she’s by herself. I don’t get it.
Where the fuck did they go?”

“Is she okay?” Angela asked.

“She looks okay.
Pissed off, maybe.
She’s still got her rifle.”

Angela came up behind Trey and tried to see through the gap
above Trey’s head.

“I don’t see her.”

“That’s because she’s already—“

The side door to the RV swung out and Monica climbed in. She
laid her rifle down on the table. Trey alternated between watching her and
looking out the windshield.

“What happened out there?
Where’s
Jim and Terry?”

“They’re talking to the asshole that shot Terry.”

Angela looked at her with raised eyebrows. “They’re
talking
to him?”

“I guess. I left right after we found him.
After they pulled me off of him, actually.”

Trey left the partition and came closer to Monica.

“Are you alright?”

She took a deep breath then blew it out.

“Yeah.”

Trey picked up her rifle and put it in the cabinet with the
others.

“Do you want to tell us what happened? What’s going on,
Monica?”

“I don’t know, Trey! I told you everything I know. I was
barely there. The guy’s a nutcase. He said he shot at us because he thought
were Chinese.”

“That’s crazy. None of us look at all oriental. Did he say
anything else?”

“Trey…” Monica stared at him.

“Okay. I got it. You don’t know. I just don’t understand what’s
going on, or why Jim and Terry haven’t come back. Do you think I should go
check on them?”

Monica sat down across from Angela and put her elbows on the
table, then lowered her face into her palms.

Angela said, “I haven’t heard any gunshots, so they’re
probably just talking to the guy. He didn’t have anyone else with him, did he,
Monica?”

“He was alone,” she mumbled into her hands.

Trey went back to the front and peeked through the partition
gap. There was still nothing to see. He went back to the table and stood there,
fidgeting. He didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Did he say he thought we
looked
Chinese? I don’t get
it.”

“Quit asking me about the damned Chinese!” Monica yelled.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I just….”

Trey walked back to the front and looked out the windshield
again. He picked up his rifle and looked at the mountain trail through the
scope.

“I can’t see shit out there. This really sucks not knowing
what’s going on out there. We need to get radios.”

Monica lifted her head and looked at him. “Trey, go up the
trail. It turns right at the top and comes to a stop. You can’t miss them. “

“I can’t leave you guys alone.”

“Bullets are just as destructive to the human body when a
woman fires the gun. Just go.”

Trey looked at Angela to gauge her feelings on being left
alone.

“We’ll be fine. They’re out there talking to the guy who
shot at us. What more do we have to worry about? Besides, I feel perfectly safe
with Monica here. She’s the one who shot Carl, right?”

“Okay. I’ll be back in few. I just want to ask them what’s
up,
then
I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time,” Monica said, as he opened the door and
hopped down to the ground.

The door slammed, and
a minute
later Tori came out of the bedroom, gently closing the door behind her.

“What was Trey yelling about Chinese? I was afraid he was
going to wake Liz right after I finally got her to sleep again.”

Monica shook her head with a weary expression. Angela spoke
up.

“The guy who shot Terry said he thought he was Chinese, or
something.”

Monica said, “He actually said he thought
we
were the Chinese who’ve been killing
everyone.”

“Oh my God.”
Tori held out her arms
and examined them.

“Are you okay, Tori?”

“Look at my arms.”

Angela and Monica looked and saw goose bumps all over them.

“What’s the matter?” Monica asked.

“Chinese people killing everyone?”

“It’s nothing to worry about.” Monica reached out and put a
hand on Tori’s arm. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Take my seat. I’m
gonna go get some snow to melt.”

“Wait, Monica. Don’t go out there.”

“Tori, what’s wrong? You look terrified,” Angela said.

Tori looked at the two women and saw only one weapon among
them. She went to the drawer with pistols and took out something she hoped was
a small caliber. She went back to the table, sat down, and started whispering.

“You guys, this is going to sound totally crazy, but last
week Liz told me about a very weird dream she had. Keep in mind that this is
coming from a child who is three years old and has never seen a violent movie
or TV show. She’s never been to daycare and has only played with one other girl
her age at our apartment complex. I trust that our babysitter respects my rules
and doesn’t watch violent movies with her.”

“Okay. What did she tell you?” Monica asked.

“She said, and I’ll quote, ‘
Everywhere
in our country was
Chinee
people, and they were
killing all the people like us.’”

###

“In The End: An
American Apocalypse” to be published in 2016.

About the author

Edward M Wolfe is a former
investigative reporter and journalist. He lives in Tulsa with two human
children, and one canine child, all of whom are artists and musicians and write
songs together.
Except for the dog.
 

Visit
 
http://edwardmwolfe.com
 
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