Lone Wolf: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller (America Falls - Occupied Territory Book 1) Read online

  “Sis?”

  Nothing.

  “Katie? I’m going to have a shower then I’ll make us a sandwich, okay?”

  No answer.

  Jack felt a wave of panic wash over him. He turned the handle and opened the door a crack, certain he would find Katie with her wrists slashed, and bleeding out. She was a shapeless mound underneath the blankets. Only her straggly brown hair showed above the coverlet.

  He took a step into the room.

  “Katie?”

  “Leave me alone!”

  She didn’t turn over and her voice was muffled by the blankets, but he’d never been so glad to hear his sister’s whine in his life. He let out a pent-up breath.

  “I’m going to have a shower, then I’ll make you something to eat, okay?”

  “Katie?”

  “Just go away!”

  “You can’t lay in there forever!” he snapped, his patience finally breaking. “I’m getting in the shower and when I’m done, you’re getting up!”

  He pulled the door shut with a bang. As it was, it was Jack’s resolve that had broken by the time he’d gotten out of the cold shower. When he knocked on Katie’s door 10 minutes later and she told him to leave her alone, he simply went in and left a PB and J sandwich and a glass of water on her side table.

  “You know, Mom and Dad wouldn’t want you to waste away in bed,” His voice cracked with emotion. “There’s a sandwich here… you should eat it. I have to go out tomorrow.”

  She didn’t even acknowledge he was there. He shrugged and went back downstairs.

  After eating his own stale sandwich over the kitchen bench, he went and sat on the living room sofa. He stared at the blank television screen as the last light of day faded. Physically and emotionally drained from burying his parents, his mind wandered back to the laughs and happy times he’d spent with his family in that very spot.

  Just the week before they’d binged the last four episodes of Brooklyn Nine-Nine, googling when the next series was coming out. What a difference a week made. No more Nine-Nine. No more TV. No more Google… no more parents...

  Jack stood up, wiping a solitary tear from his eye and headed up to his room. Whether Katie was up tomorrow or not, he was heading out in the morning to try and find Danny.

  2

  The sun was bright in his window when he awoke feeling disoriented. It was only a moment before the reality of the last few days chased his sleep addled confusion down a dark alley.

  He took a deep breath as he stared at the ceiling. All was quiet outside and inside the house, but there was something different. It took him a second before he realized what it was. He smelled cooking. Someone was cooking eggs.

  He jumped out of bed and pulled on a T-shirt before heading quickly downstairs. Katie’s door was open, and her bed made. Jack felt a tinge of happiness, the first positive emotion he’d felt in many days.

  “Morning,” Katie said with a smile when he came through the door.

  She was pale but almost looked her old self. She was wearing shorts and a sweater, and her long brown hair was brushed. She stood over their little propane camping stove stirring scrambled eggs.

  “Morning,” he said. “I wondered how you were cooking with the power out. Good thinking.”

  Now was not the time to get into a deep and meaningful. He didn’t want to spook her.

  “Yeah, it took me an age to find it in the garage. I’m surprised I didn’t wake you with all the noise.”

  “I’m not surprised! I slept like the dea…” The wooden spoon paused. “…really deeply.”

  Katie began stirring again.

  “No toast unfortunately,” she said as she dished the steaming eggs onto two plates. “Toasters not working of course, but the bread also has spots of mold on it so...”

  “It’s cool,” he said, taking a mouthful of eggs that he immediately spat out because it was too hot. “Hot!”

  They both laughed.

  “Just like Mom,” Katie said fondly and took a more carefully curated mouthful herself.

  Jack nodded and went in for a second forkful.

  “Really nice, thanks,” he said, pushing the empty plate into the middle of the counter when he was done. “Did you want to come today? I’m not sure about leaving you here on your own.”

  She picked up both plates and carried them to the sink.

  “I’m not ready to go outside yet,” she said, over the sound of the running water. “I’ll be safer here than you will be out there. Are you sure you should go? Shouldn’t we wait? Maybe help will come.”

  He shook his head.

  “There’s no help coming, Katie. I think we’ve been invaded. That’s what the very last news reports were saying. We need to find Danny and work out a plan. Three of us together will stand more of a chance than two.”

  For the first time in days, he saw an emotion other than sadness and anger in her eyes. It was fear.

  “Why, what do you think will happen?”

  “I have no idea… but we need to be prepared.”

  In truth he did have an idea. As a fan of post-apocalyptic books, movies and TV, he was pretty sure that in the absence of zombies and aliens, it was other survivors they would have to be concerned with first. Even if China was making a full-scale invasion it could be weeks or months before they had enough people on the ground to invade a little suburb of Sacramento.

  “How long will you be?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ll drive the Mazda, but how quick I am will depend on what’s happening. Danny’s is a 15-minute drive normally.”

  “Okay, so like less than an hour?”

  “Let’s say two hours at the outside. We may have to look for supplies. At the very least bottled water plus other stuff, you know, tools and things we might need.”

  “But we have running water?”

  “Yeah, but with the power grid down I’m not sure how much longer it will last. I’m surprised it hasn’t been cut already.”

  “Okay, sounds like a plan. Try and get food too. Like cans and stuff that will last.”

  “Good idea. Anything else?”

  “Umm… maybe ladies’ products? I’m not due for ages but it would be best to stock up.”

  Jack felt himself blush. While he was a confident teenager, and most definitely not a prude, he had never discussed such things with his sister.

  “Okay,” he said too quickly. “What – I mean which…?”

  She smiled, not unkindly.

  “Don’t worry I’ll write it down for you.”

  “Thanks.”

  Jack headed back upstairs, amazed at how his sister had swung from being depressed and reclusive to helpful and almost happy. He knew it would take a long time for both of them to get over their parents’ deaths, but it gave him confidence that everything would be okay if they made it through the first few weeks.

  3

  Jack put on jeans, a T-shirt, and his treasured Chuck Taylor Converse Hi-Top shoes. He threw on a hoodie and then looked in the mirror. As far as dressing for the apocalypse, he thought it could have been better. Maybe a leather jacket and some motorcycle boots would have done the trick, but this would have to do.

  He went to his dresser and pulled out the one piece of survival gear he actually owned. It was 4.3-inch hunting knife his uncle had sent him for his birthday. He really liked the gift, his mom not so much.

  “Well that’s practical,” she had said, with a disapproving look at his father.

  “Well, at least it’s not a gun,” his dad had joked, receiving a dark look in return.

  Jack had pulled the all black knife from its leather sheath and weighed it in his hand, turning it this way and that.

  His verdict was- It’s cool.

  His mom had been right about its practicality though. As a family they were pretty ‘urban’. His father didn’t hunt or do anything much outdoorsy except camping, and even then, that was always at camping grounds with all the modern conveniences. Since his birthday
they hadn’t even done that.

  So, it had gone in his drawer and hadn’t come out until now.

  He teared up a little. What he wouldn’t do to hear his mom’s gentle sarcasm now.

  Shaking it off, he pulled the blade out of the sheath and jabbed it at the air in front of him a few times. While the blade wasn’t as long as the zombie killers in the movies, it would do some damage buried in someone’s belly. The key would be to jab and stab, it certainly wasn’t a slashing weapon.

  He lifted the waistband of his hoodie up and clipped the sheath to his belt, then slipped the knife in before covering it back up. Next, he emptied the books and folders from his school backpack into the dustbin.

  “Won’t be needing those again.”

  The backpack was pretty beat up after two years of use. He put his finger through a hole in the bottom and decided he’d grab a new one if the opportunity came up. He slipped it over his shoulder and, on autopilot, grabbed his wallet from the dresser on the way through the door.

  Katie was wiping down the kitchen benches when he got downstairs. That was a rare sight and he was about to make a joke when he noticed her red-rimmed eyes. As if to distract him from the fact she’d been upset, she smiled and pointed to a water bottle, two Milky Ways and a note written in her small, neat handwriting on the end of the counter.

  “Just in case it’s a while before you find more food. And that’s the note with my stuff on it.”

  “Thanks sis.”

  He placed the water and candy bars in the backpack and slipped the note into his pocket.

  “Okay,” he said. “I guess I’ll see you in two hours. Make sure you lock the door after me and if anyone knocks don’t answer. If there’s an emergency or anything, run straight over the road to Mr. Dawson’s.”

  “I can’t believe he’s alive. I thought it killed all of them… like all of the adults.”

  “Apparently not,” he shrugged.

  “I don’t really like him.”

  “He’s okay. A little bit arrogant, but Dad thought he was okay. Besides it’s good to have someone if we need help.”

  “I guess,” she said, in a strange tone.

  He could almost read her mind. How come Dawson had survived and not Mom or Dad? He turned and headed to the door before she had a chance to get upset again.

  “Um, I think you’ll need these.”

  She scooped the keys to the CX5 off the top of the microwave and he held out his hands to catch them. She didn’t throw them, instead, she carried them to him and dropped them in his open hand.

  “Thanks.”

  Then she did something she hadn’t done in many years. She hugged him. It was brief, and too quick for him to return, but he knew it was a huge deal and he felt the warmth of the hug deep in his soul.

  “Be careful,” she said.

  “I will. Don’t forget, lock the door.”

  He pulled it open and stepped out into the gray morning. He turned and waved one more time. She waved back before closing the door. He heard the deadbolt click. Then headed for his mother’s pride and joy. The Mazda SUV was only six months old and the smell of new leather was still strong when he opened the door. He put his backpack on the passenger seat and then started it.

  The engine fired up the first time and he turned the heater on right away, along with the seat warmers. He buckled up and then put his hands on the wheel.

  He was a little nervous. Being on a learner’s permit, he’d only ever driven it with his mom or dad next to him, but that wasn’t the only thing causing his nerves. Also playing on his mind was the fact he was about to find out a little more about the fall of America.

  Quite frankly he didn’t know what was happening out there, and it scared him.

  He took a deep breath and reversed the Mazda out onto the road. He was about to head out when he decided at the last second to stop and run in to talk to Mr. Dawson. It wouldn’t hurt just to have him keep an eye on things while he was gone and not only that, he felt he had been a little rude to the guy when he had come over to check on them two days before.

  Jack pulled the car to a stop in front of his neighbors’ home and turned it off before stepping back out into the cold Sacramento morning. Something niggled at the back of his mind as he followed the path to the front door. It was a vague sense of something not being quite right. It was like that feeling you get when you go past a place you haven’t seen in a while and something’s different about it, then you work out it’s something like a tree having been cut down, or a vacant lot where a building used to be.

  He worked out what it was as he stepped up onto the front porch. It was the quiet. Normally there’d be street noises at this time of day. Cars, lawnmowers, planes flying overhead. He couldn’t even hear a bird. It was jarring.

  He didn’t have long to think about it. The door was pulled open before he had a chance to knock. Mr. Dawson stood in the doorway smiling, half hidden behind the door.

  4

  Movement at last!

  Dawson had been drinking a mug of instant coffee at the study window when Katie’s blinds were opened.

  “And there she is folks!” he muttered, moving to the side, even though he knew full well no one could see in through the sheer nylon curtains in the daytime. He’d checked.

  “Come on, Honey,” he said, putting his coffee mug down and leaning forward. “Let Uncle Larry have a look at you.”

  There was no movement for a minute, then she appeared. It was brief. She put her face to the pane and peered up and down the street. She wore a white tank top that left little to Larry’s imagination, even though it was perfectly acceptable sleepwear for a girl in the privacy of her own home.

  “Good morning, Sunshine! Glad to see you up bright and early – it’s gonna be a big day.”

  Katie disappeared from the window a few seconds later, her curiosity apparently satisfied. Disappointed it was over so fast but pleased by his first dose of Katie in a week, Larry picked up his coffee and whistled happily as he headed downstairs.

  On the kitchen island sat the gear he’d brought up from the basement. He fingered the blade of the knife absently and went over the plan in his mind. First, he would take care of the boy. He decided he’d go the direct route. Knock on the front door, just like he had a few days ago, lure him over to his house with a story about how he needed help to move something, then overpower and kill him.

  The kid was big for his age, but Larry was bigger. His physique was vaguely apelike, he was barrel chested with arms that were long and ropey with muscle and he had slim hips despite his solid beer belly.

  His red hair was graying now, but back when he’d moved school in the eighth grade, a group of kids had named him ‘orangutan’. That had stopped right after he put their ringleader in a chokehold and squeezed until the asshole had passed out. It had taken three teachers to get him off the bully and he’d had to move school not long after, but no one had ever called him that name again.

  Larry Dawson didn’t really want to kill Jack, but if he didn’t, the kid would just become a problem later. A problem that had to be fed and watered and watched constantly. No, best to put him out of his misery right away.

  So, he thought, lure the boy, kill him, then grab Katie. Three simple steps.

  He made another cup of instant coffee from water he heated on the gas stove and sipped it occasionally as he packed his ‘Katie kit’. It was a satchel containing the things he would need to ensure Katie was compliant when he went to get her. He left the carving knife out. It would go into the pack after he’d taken care of the boy.

  He drained the last of his coffee and put it on the counter.

  “Okay. Time to get this done.”

  He picked up the knife and satchel and headed into the hallway. He dropped the satchel on the floor by the front door and was about to deposit the knife in the drawer of the hallway console table when he heard the muffled sound of a car door closing.

  What the hell?

  He
kept a hold of the knife and went through to the living room. As he peered through the front curtains, the reverse lights on Beverley Monaghan’s Mazda lit up and it backed out of their driveway. He checked Katie’s window and the front yard. There was no one in sight.

  Nooo!

  Had he waited too long? Were they leaving? He peered desperately into the car, only calming once he saw it was the boy in the driver’s seat and that he was alone. The car reversed onto the road then jerked to a halt before easing forward and heading off.

  Dawson couldn’t believe his luck. Now he could snatch Katie and not have to kill the kid. He was about to do a little jig in celebration when the car skidded to a halt and began to back up. It stopped directly in front of his house and the kid climbed out. Dawson’s fingers tightened around the handle of the carving knife and he headed back to the front door.

  Back to plan A.

  As the kid’s shadow appeared through the frosted glass, he stepped up to the door, a fake smile plastered over his face, and pulled it open, careful to keep the knife out of sight.

  Startled, his young neighbor stopped in his tracks.

  “Hey Kiddo,” said Dawson. “What a coincidence! I was just going to come and ask if you could help me with something.”

  5

  Katie finished wiping down the kitchen benches, doing her best not to think about anything. When she was done, she looked around for something else to do and her eyes fell upon the fridge.

  She almost welcomed the stench of decay that assaulted her senses. Anything to keep her mind off her parents lying in the cold dirt of their backyard. Tears sprang to her eyes again. The grief was quick and unexpected. Just her conscious mind touching upon her parents was enough to turn on the waterworks.

  “God, stop it Katie!” she moaned, slamming the fridge door and heading to the kitchen drawers.

  She ripped some kitchen trash bags out of their box and stalked back to the refrigerator. After fifteen minutes she had cleared the shelves, filling two bags with an assortment of spoiled food and containers of unmentionable leftovers.