Radioactive and The Decay Dystopian Super Boxset- A Dirty Bomb and Nuclear Blast Prepper Tale of Survival (22 page)

Brightness glimmered out of the corner of his eye. Paul looked to the side, outside the driver’s side window. There, in the vast distance, was a smoke cloud shaped unlike anything he had ever seen. A mushroom cloud, distinctive and broad, flourished in the sky in an exquisite and surreal motion. The sky surrounding it was a deep orange hue. The cloud expanded from its base then slowly transpired into the air. A large ominous ring expanded over the cloud, as if rising to the heavens.

“What the fuck is that?” Paul said slowly in his distracted awe. He grabbed his cell phone instinctively, and turned the car ignition off. His cell phone vibrated with a text message

Unidentified Blast: Take Cover Immediately

The message had confirmed what he was seeing. The mushroom cloud in the distance was as real as the interior floor below his feet. Paul’s mind raced with questions. Could this be it? Could this really be happening in America? What about Samantha? Was he losing his mind?
It was time to get Julie. That much Paul knew, though he couldn’t take his eyes off the thunderous and dissipating cloud in the distance. His phone vibrated again with the same message. Then another. He felt sick inside. But there was also Julie. Crowds formed outside the store watching the sky in awe. No matter, he had to go get to her. He placed his hand on the door latch ready to charge the store like a soldier on the front lines of battle, but one look into the rearview mirror, and Paul noticed a car blocking him from the rear. The blue Lincoln had found him again.

Chapter Four

The store went dark. At first, Julie thought it would pass. The lights flickered, went out, and slowly came back on. Now they were out for good. But the lights weren’t the only thing out. The television monitors had gone blank. The freezers were no longer running. The light music on the overhead intercoms ceased. Julie passed long lines at each register. Perplexed customers and cashiers alike looked around the store in confusion, standing at check-out lines no longer operating, under lights no longer working. One woman handed the cashier some money, placed her goods in her cart and pushed onward. Others weren’t so lucky. Everyone looked at their phones. The emergency alert message had been dispersed, vague as it was.

“Unidentified blast?” A man asked. “What the hell does that mean?”

No one seemed to be taking the alert too seriously. For all they could see, the power was out. However, the message did succeed at making them more unruly. People pushed their way to the front of the store, with goods they hadn’t paid for yet. A store manager came out to the floor and addressed the confusion. He was bald with a dark ring of hair around his head. His shoes clicked rapidly against the tile floor with each hurried step.

“Everyone, if I could have your attention please,” he announced as he stopped. His voice wasn’t quite loud enough for the crowd, but he continued. “Due to an unexpected power outage, our system is currently down, so we have no choice but to close our doors. What we need you to do is to exit the store in an orderly manner.”

Murmurs of disapproval traveled through the crowd. The lack of response from the customers provided an indifferent vibe in the air.

“Just calm down, please. For those of you who have already paid for your goods, please take them and leave. For those of you who haven’t, we sincerely apologize, but you’ll have to leave the items here, and exit the store.”

The store manager signaled two security guards to him in an apparent show of force. No one listened or moved. They just looked at each other in uncertainty. The manager’s announcement had fallen on deaf ears. People looked at their shopping carts with a sense of entitlement, whether they had actually paid for them or not. Most of them had just gotten out of work, drove through traffic, fought crowds through the store and got what they needed. Now they were being told to leave their goods behind and leave. For most of them, it was an insane suggestion.

“What happened to the power?” A man asked from register five.

“Sir,” the manager said, “I don’t know. Our phone lines are down as well. We cannot conduct business under these circumstances. I’m very sorry for the inconvenience.”

The security guards paced the area waving the people towards the exits. Julie observed each lengthy check-out line. They were discouraging. Talks of another attack filled the air. Everyone had heard about the Wall Street bombing. The latest theory was that New York was under attack again, or some other major city, certainly not Beech Creek, Pennsylvania though. Who would possibly want to attack them?

More customers filtered from the back of the store to the front. Some of them wandered with no direction. The last to move to the front of the store was a group of twenty-something thuggish-looking slackers. Though they were separated, their placement was strategic. In all, their numbers equaled twenty. The group had planned the ambush for the past week. They were going to position themselves throughout the store on a busy Friday afternoon, and strike. They communicated with each other by text message. Once in position, they had planned to wait for the leader of the group to text them. Then they would spring into action. It was a growing trend throughout the country. The purpose of the game was to loot, rampage, rob, and disappear. Nothing of such magnitude had ever happened in Beech Creek, which inspired the gang of rowdy, bored, and unemployed men to mimic the cruel game for their own amusement.

Julie got a look at one man peering from behind the detergent aisle. He was a skinny unshaven man in his twenties. He wore baggy clothes and a red bandanna around his head, covered with a backwards cap. He quickly slipped behind a display case. She sensed a growing suspicion of their presence. Why were they hiding? Why did they keep looking and signaling at each other? She noticed others of similar age and demeanor creeping about. Everyone’s attention was on the commotion at the front of the store, but Julie’s instincts told her that something wasn’t right with what she was seeing. She clutched her basket of items and looked to the front exit. Would anyone
really
care if she walked out with everything?

Now that he was blocked in by Edwin and Greg, Paul hesitated to get out of his car. Nothing close to their type of harassment had ever happened to Paul before, so he wasn’t sure exactly how to react. He watched as other people in the parking lot were transfixed on the mushroom cloud in the sky. Paul felt a low rumble that shook him to the core. His first thought was of the 1950s and the Cold War era. He wondered if perhaps the government was testing a bomb. It’s not like they were anywhere close to Nevada or some other historical nuclear test site. Maybe it was an accident. Other people, more proactive, ran to their cars, and fled the parking lot. In little time, the lot became congested and chaotic with only two exits. Some found their way out by driving over sidewalks and medians. The parking lot had become a sinking ship and everyone was trying to escape it. Paul, on the other hand, had his mind on other matters.

Edwin exited the passenger side of the blue Lincoln and approached Paul’s side. Paul’s first emotion was panic and anxiety. Once that subsided--and it had--he was angry. Edwin strolled confidently to Paul’s window. He rotated one finger around in a circular motion, signaling Paul to roll down his window. Paul started the car and moved his window down a crack. Before Edwin could say a word, Paul jumped in.

“Why in the hell are you following me? Is this some sort of sick joke?”

Edwin stood still and crossed his arms, not saying a word. Paul continued. “I want you to leave me alone right now. Right this fucking instant. I don’t care what you have to say. I don’t care what you want with Bill. Just leave me alone.”

Paul felt his anger subsiding. He felt better now, though Edwin wasn’t intimidated. He casually swayed his jacket, displaying a 9mm Beretta attached to his left hip by a side-holster. He spoke calmly and assuredly.

“I’m not going to bore you with who we are, who we work for, and what we’re looking for. I’m just going to say very simply that I’d have no qualms whatsoever about putting a bullet in your head right now. It wouldn’t bother me in the slightest. So before you start flexing your muscles, you think about that.”

The sight of the pistol frightened Paul, especially when he thought of Julie. Edwin then provided explicit instructions.

“Now listen carefully. Turn your car off, get out, and give me the keys. Walk over to our car and get into the front passenger seat. We’re all going to go somewhere and have a little talk. You tell me what I need to know, we’ll have you back to your car before dinner time.”

“I have a daughter in there—”

“You want to protect her then get into the car, simple enough.”

Paul looked around the inside of his car. He looked around the parking lot. He looked everywhere for answers or assistance. For the moment, he had a slight advantage over Edwin within the secure confines of his car. The presence of so many people around in broad daylight gave Paul the assurance of safety. The mushroom cloud was fading behind Edwin as Paul continued.

“Going with you would be a waste of time for both of us. I can tell you that there is no information I have on Bill other than his phone number and home address. You know, his wife is very sick. They could be at a cancer treatment or something, he could be anywhere.”

“We’re well aware of his wife’s condition,” Edwin said. “I think if we just sit down and have a talk, something will trigger your memory. A recollection of details you’re not thinking of now. Memory triggers can be very scientific sometimes.”

Paul grew angered as Edwin persisted.

“Look. I’m guessing Bill owes you money or something? Okay, well I’m not Bill. Why don’t you turn around? Just real quick, turn around.”

Edwin stood motionless as Paul continued.

“Do you see that? It’s a mushroom cloud. Have you ever seen anything like that in your life? I mean, actually in the sky in front of you, not in some movie?”

Edwin casually turned his head and looked to the sky behind him. The visual spectacle momentarily gained his attention.

“Do you think that maybe there are some things going on right now a little more important than Bill and the money he owes you?” Paul asked.

Edwin looked back to Paul. “Seen plenty of clouds in my day. Looks like a thunderstorm.”

Paul shook his head in disbelief.

“A thunderstorm? Are you out of your mind? See the people running to their cars? Look at this parking lot, it’s mass pandemonium.”

Edwin moved his hand towards the pistol underneath his suit coat. “I guess we should go somewhere safe then,” he said.

Paul held up his cell phone.

“I’m calling the police.”

Ed pulled his pistol from its holster and held it to the window.

“Put the phone down and get out of the car.”

Paul froze and glanced in the rearview mirror. The blue Lincoln was still idling behind him, with Greg patiently waiting at the wheel.

“Just take it easy,” Paul said holding his arms up. “Don’t do anything sudden or rash.”

“I don’t plan to as long as you cooperate,” Edwin said.

Paul opened the door and stepped out the car, still holding his cell phone.

“Lose the phone,” Edwin said.

“I need to be able to talk to my daughter,” Paul said.

“She—”

Before he could finish, Edwin swiped Paul’s phone from his hand. Paul looked at Edwin in surprise. He had never witnessed such brazen hostility before. Paul looked at the inside of the Lincoln. A chilling feeling told him that if he were to get in the car, he would never come back. He felt resistance like when two magnets of the same side push each other way. There were still plenty of people around, but that wouldn’t be the case if he got in the car. Paul searched his mind for stall tactics.

“Let me ask you one thing before we go,” Paul said.

“What is it?”

“Where do you guys buy your suits?” Paul asked.

Edwin laughed. “No place from around here, I can assure you.”

“You should consider a more casual look next time. Something less conspicuous,” Paul said.

“Thanks for the fashion tip,” Edwin said, opening the passenger side door. “Now get in the front.”

“I mean, if
I
were going to dress up like a mobster—”

Edwin held the gun to Paul’s chest. “Shut your mouth and get in.”

Edwin observed the hurried frenzy of people trying to leave. Suddenly a car honked at them. A line of cars had formed behind the blue Lincoln. Cars had filled the opposite lane, preventing anyone from passing. Edwin was momentarily distracted by the commotion and irritated by the incessant blaring of several horns.

“Get in,” he demanded, tucking the Beretta out of sight.

He tried to threaten Paul further when an especially loud car horn covered his words. Paul turned and saw a middle-aged man at the wheel of a Ford Explorer SUV behind them. A woman similar to the man’s age was in the passenger seat. Her hand was on his shoulder trying to calm him. In the back were two young boys. Edwin pushed Paul towards the inside of the car. His other hand firmly gripped the pistol. Paul grabbed the roof of the Lincoln and latched on to it in resistance. 

The driver of the SUV stuck his head out the window.

“Hey, move it already, will ya’?” he demanded.

Edwin sauntered his glare towards the angry man. He held up his hand demanding patience. Edwin was distracted between Paul and the man behind them. He got within inches of Paul’s face.

“GET IN or I’ll shoot you right here and leave you for dead,” he said with his teeth clenched.

His breath smelled like coffee, spittle from his mouth flew onto Paul. It was now or never. Paul looked back to the man in the SUV. The man took off his seat belt and tossed it behind his shoulder. His wife’s hand gripped his shoulder as if trying to keep him in the vehicle. Paul felt Edwin’s pistol against his ribs. To the casual observer, Edwin and Paul were so close they looked like lovers about to embrace. The man held down the horn again without any regard. He paused for a moment and stuck his head out the window again.

“Get a room or get the fuck out of my way!” he shouted.

The light pink complexion of the man’s face had turned a glaring red. Edwin’s pistol jabbed Paul’s side, but Paul continued to resist. Greg grew increasingly frustrated.

“Just get him in the car already,” he said to Edwin.

“Shut the hell up. Be ready to drive,” Edwin snapped back.

The man’s horn sounded again. Greg caressed the temples of his forehead then swung open his car door and stepped out. “Hey, go fuck yourself,” he shouted to the SUV man while giving him the finger.

The SUV man released his horn and stormed out of the vehicle in an instant. Edwin gave Paul a quick sucker-punch in the gut, causing him to hunch over with intense pain. It felt like his insides had collapsed. Edwin pushed him into the front seat and slammed the door shut. The SUV man approached Greg with his meaty fists balled. His wife screamed for him to get back in the car.