The Dead Familiar (Winterhaven Series) Page 3

  This bond had also led to Rey's inclusion in the Archangel Protocol. As Jack's partner in that effort, and the planned leader of the citadel, Gary felt that Rey was a friend that could not be left out in the cold. His keen mind and survivalist nature would make for wonderful assets to any group of survivors seeking to rebuild, including Winterhaven. When the button was pressed, Gary received a data dump of his own, warning him to leave major population centers and to use ground based transport to try and get to Minnesota. While everyone involved knew that the chances for Rey to make the journey were minimal, the offer was still extended in the hope that he would be successful.

  Rey's response to the message beeping on his phone was immediate. The combination of his work with the military and his friendship with Gary had given him a much better flow of information than the average citizen. He took the warning seriously. He was well aware of the shape the world had found itself in, and it wasn’t an overly surprising development.

  Because he and his uncle were already out camping, he knew that they would be relatively safe in the short-term. His worries were instead focused on how to explain the situation to his uncle, and how to effect a survivable journey to join Gary in Minnesota. It would be a two thousand mile trip. One that would have to be carefully plotted to avoid major population centers or other groups of people whenever possible. Even with the difficulties and dangers, it was a journey worth making. Rey knew of no one else who had prepared so completely, and it was the only real chance of survival that Rey and Jose had at their disposal.

  First things first. I have to talk to Jose. Calling his uncle over, he sat him down and looked at him seriously.

  "Tio, I have to tell you some things," Rey started before pausing to consider his words. Jose simply returned his look, waiting. Rey continued, "we can't go back home. Bad things are going to happen soon. We don't want to be there when they do."

  "You know this?" asked Jose.

  "I do Uncle. I have been told, and I trust those who have said it." He replied.

  His uncle nodded. "Then we will not go home. Will we stay here, or must we go elsewhere?"

  Rey was impressed anew by his uncles ability to handle any situation.

  "We should be safe here for now, but over time it will be difficult to survive here. There is a place that we have been offered, far to the north and east, in Minnesota. It will be difficult, and dangerous… but if we can make it there, it is the best place."

  His uncle considered. "I have never left this part of America, not once since I moved here. Still... if you think we should go, we will go to Minnesota." Jose finished speaking and nodded, decided.

  Rey patted the older man on the leg before standing up. His uncle followed him to his feet, and they packed camp quickly and efficiently. They would hike back to the road and their truck before driving north. Rey hoped to get as far as he could before the trouble started, making the overall journey that much less dangerous.

  Grinding out their ashes, Rey dumped the rest of the coffee on it to avoid the risk of fire an ever-present danger in the dry southwest. He looked about their campsite for a moment remembering all the times they had journeyed to this region. He felt his eyes drift skywards, searching for something. With Jose standing quietly nearby, Rey closed his eyes. He imagined his parents, far above him, watching down upon him. A brief smile tugged at his lips, and when he reopened his eyes, they were hard and determined. The two men hugged briefly, expressing their mutual respect and affection without words, and then the old uncle and nephew started to walk.

  Chapter 3: The Yankees in Dixie

  10: 34pm

  August 15th, 2015

  Memphis, Tennessee

  “Olivia! Hunny, come quickly,” John Xander shouted. He could hear his young wife climbing out the shower upstairs. The small two, story home they shared featured a bath and bedroom upstairs, with a kitchen and living room downstairs. It was simple, but it was all they had been able to afford as young newlyweds with teaching salaries. The two of them had married a few years before, moving south for a teaching program as soon as their honeymoon had ended. Money had been tight, but teaching the inner-city youth of Memphis, and doing it together… that had been wonderful.

  “Olivia! Babe! Come down here,” John reiterated. He stood in the living room, hand flexing nervously. Waiting for his wife, John began to pace about the small room in thought. He was a tall, slender man; he had dark brown, nearly black hair. John ran his fingers through it as he paced, a habitual action when he was stressed. He dressed simply but fashionably, his wife’s hand clearly visible in the selection of his wardrobe. John was in excellent shape due to his past as a long-distance runner, his slim figure accentuated by sturdy musculature in his arms and abs.

  He ceased pacing as his beautiful wife came down the stairs. She was wrapped in a white cotton towel, her hair wet and trailing down her back. As she appeared, she noticed his lack of attention to her appearance. After a couple years of marriage, John could still hardly control himself at the sight of his wife in a state of undress. For once however, more pressing concerns drew thoughts of sexuality straight out of his mind, and the oddity struck Olivia as alarming. John hustled over to her, showing her the text message he had just received.

  It was an Archangel Alert, containing links to further data online. He had started searching through some of it when he first called out to Olivia, and was fast approaching a state of shock. Sensing his state, she grabbed the phone from his hand and examined it herself, intelligent eyes poring over every line. She looked up at him, vulnerable, with concern in her eyes.

  “John, what does it mean,” she asked, handing the phone back.

  “It means...well at the very least it means that Jack thinks it’s the end. He told us about this, remember? When we were up to visit last year. He told us that something big was coming, that the world might change. We just laughed it off as whisky talk, but I always kind of wondered if maybe there wasn’t something more to it.” John paused, thinking his next words through carefully, “Olivia, baby. I think....” he trailed off, unable to finish.

  She looked into his eyes, before reaching down to clutch his hand.

  “You think we should take this seriously don’t you babe,” she asked.

  John just nodded.

  Olivia sighed, “Well, you’ve known Jack a long time. If you trust him, then I do too. So, what does he want us to do,” she asked.

  “Well, look’s like he gives us the coordinates to a safe location,” John said while scrolling through the phone. “But it’s up in Minnesota...Oh wait, thats just the generic information that everyone gets. Thats where he will be...” John continued to read the messages and information that the Archangel Protocol had dumped to his phone.

  “Well it seems to have been tracking where we are, it gives several alternative routes out of the city, as well as identifying possible dangers. It also warns that it can not adjust to the changing situation. It says.... Damn. It says Memphis has a forty-five percent chance of being nuked in the next day. and a ninety-two percent chance of suffering some form of attack...” John looked up to see his wife nearly dressed.

  She noticed his surprise, and told him, “well if we are gonna run off somewhere, I’m not going to do it in a bath-towel am I?” She laughed at him as he jumped up and began to struggle on better clothing as well.

  While he changed his pants, she took the phone and began perusing it.

  ”Honey, what’s this?” she asked, pointing to a glowing icon that had showed up on his phone’s built in map system.

  John took a look while tightening his belt.

  “Click it and see if it gives a description,” he suggested.

  Doing just that, Olivia Xander was surprised when it popped up a dialogue box, informing her that the icon marked the location of Bug-Out Gear. It was a couple miles from their house, but not so far as to be out of their way. It seemed worth investigating. With the couple no longer busy dressing and packing, they were
suddenly forced to realize the implications of everything.

  “Are we really going to leave our home because Jack sent us a text hun?” John asked.

  Olivia looked at her wonderful husband, then around the home they had begun to build together. She thought about the secret she had been holding onto for the last few weeks. Then she answered him.

  “If he’s wrong, then we haven’t lost anything. If he is right…,” she trailed off.

  John nodded in agreement. His wife was a levelheaded companion; he knew she was right.

  “Alright then, I’ll get the lights. Why don’t you pull the car around,” he suggested.

  Before he could start upstairs, Olivia ran over to him and gave him a hug. He wrapped his arms around her, feeling her warmth against him; the flutter in his heart that reminded him of the first time they had met. When she disengaged, he smiled broadly at her.

  “Lets go have an adventure then,” John joked quietly.

  Olivia ran out to grab the car while John turned off all the lights. He slipped on his shoes and locked the door as he exited their home. Running down the sidewalk, he refused to look back. John was scared that he would lose his nerve if he saw the house standing empty, scared that he would be forced to admit that they would never return. A second later, Olivia pulled up in their beat up old honda civic. Hopping in the passenger seat, John told her to turn right at the next intersection. She drove while he navigated them towards the mysterious coordinates on his phone.

  As they drove through the city, Olivia was struck by how lifeless it had become. In just the few short years they had lived here, the once thriving city had died. It was run down, deserted, left to the gangs and the criminals. It was rare to see people out and about in the evening; it had become too dangerous. Crime had exploded since the middle east incident a few years ago, but the real problem was the growing racial tension in the area.

  When the Xanders had first moved down, whites and blacks had been more or less ambivalent to one another. As the economic crisis hit certain areas worse than others however, old tensions had sprang up anew, and the couple had been finding it more and more difficult to fit in with their more ethnic co-workers and students.

  It had all been so slow and gradual that they hadn’t even noticed at first. One day, one of their african american friends had come into work with a broken nose, mentioning that he had been accosted by a group of white gangbangers. A few weeks later, some of their latino students had failed to show up for school, and word had filtered down that they were having difficulty crossing certain neighborhoods.

  Both John and Olivia had been raised to respect quality, regardless of color or creed. Thanks to their liberal parents, they harbored no racism of their own. Still, as the situation had worsened, some teachers stopped being as cordial to them. The young couple had been forced to assume it had something to do with their race. They had discussed the matter at length before deciding that all they could do was continuing teaching, keep trying to show that race didn’t define them or the people they chose to be connected to. The irony of their caucasian heritage being a factor in their own persecution was not lost on them however.

  As they neared the marker, they were also driving into a predominantly black area. The few people out began to take a visible interest in the two whites driving through the neighborhood.

  “Didn’t we see that guy a couple blocks back,” John asked his wife after spotting a young man in a red hoodie that seemed to be watching them pass.

  “I don’t know, maybe. We did have to take the long route around, but why would he be following us?”

  “I’m probably just imagining it, but let’s be careful.” John said.

  After a few more minutes of driving, the map indicated that they had arrived at their destination. A tall, concrete building greeted them. Pulling up to the curb, John checked the map. It indicated a location in the basement, something far more complex than his smart phone should have been capable of. Whatever the archangel alert had been, it had clearly added some programing to his cell.

  He looked at the building dubiously. “Ok, well we drove all the way out here, I guess I’ll run in and check it out. You better stay here in the car. Be ready to drive when I get out. I don’t like the look of this neighborhood.”

  Leaning over, Olivia gave him a quick peck on the cheek before shooing him out of the car. He closed the door behind himself, more than a little relieved to see her lock it behind him.

  Better safe than politically correct.

  John walked tentatively to the buildings entrance, giving the door a push. It swung open easily, surprising John. Most people kept their doors locked around here. He walked into the poorly lit hallway, looking for a stairwell. Coming across a fire-door, he pushed it open and found the path to the basement he had been expecting.

  So far so good...

  Swallowing, John climbed down the steps, his heart still worried about his wife out alone in the car. When he reached the bottom, he found that the lights were out. Looking about for a lightswitch, his hand came across something hard and cylindrical. Grasping it and feeling along it’s length, he discovered a switch, discerning it for a flashlight. Turning it on, he swung the light’s beam in a wide arc, looking for some sort of sign as to his next step.

  He walked deeper into the inky black darknes, swinging the light back and forth. Growing frustrated, he turned to leave.

  Theres nothing here. I don’t know why Jack sent us here, but I’m not gonna just hang out here for no reason.

  As he walked back to the stairs, he noticed a slight depression just in front of his left shoe. Kneeling down, he ran his hand along the ground. John could just make out a slight seam running in front of him, forming a square box in the floor.

  John pulled out his phone again, noticing that it now had him standing exactly at his destination. Smacking himself in the head lightly, he growled in frustration that he had forgotten to check the map in his moment of doubt. John started looking for a way to open what he surmised was a trap door, leading to what he now suspected was a cache of goods or possibly even weapons. He traced his fingers around the seam, catching them on a slight lever protruding from the seam. Gripping it, he flipped the lever in the opposite direction. With a hiss, the floor right in front of him began to raise up.

  A pneumatic press pushed up a meter square block of concrete, revealing a hidden chamber in the floor.

  How in the hell did Jack manage to get this set up?

  Reaching into the hollow storage space, John Xander felt a couple of straps. He grasped them tightly, heaving, and pulled out a heavy black duffel bag. Curious as to its contents, he unzipped it and shone his flashlight inside. He let out a low whistle.

  Inside the bag lay several boxes of MRE’s, or Meals Ready to Eat, a couple bottles of water, and some extra clothing. He was more interested in the bottom of the bag however. Nestled there was the motherload; a small 9mm submachine gun, with modified stock attached; and a hefty combat shotgun outfitted to military specifications. There were several boxes of ammunition for the shotgun, as well as extra clips for the 9mm, and John took a moment to appreciate the dangerous lines of the violent tools Jack had left for them. A note was taped to the 9mm. He pulled it free and unfolded it, amused to see Jack’s slightly girlish handwriting.

  Dear Xander’s,

  I know you are not gun people, but you will probably have to change that in the coming days. If it turns out I was wrong, you can dump them here again, with none the wiser. I doubt that will be the case however. The 9mm likes to climb when fired, but the stock should help with that. I put it in because its lower caliber and Olivia should be able to handle it., besides, there is a ton of 9mm ammunition lying around. The shotgun has quite a kick, so be careful John, keep it braced when you fire, and only point it towards something that you really, really want to disappear. I can’t tell you how sad it makes me that you have to go through this alone, without my help, but hopefully you will make it here. I don
’t know what the world will be like between you and Minnesota, but someday, hopefully, we will meet again. Until then, please, survive.

  -Sincerely, Jack.

  p.s. Olivia, sorry about making out with your sister at your wedding, I told you an open bar was a bad idea.

  John stuffed the note back in the bag.

  I knew it! He totally did make out with Alexis. Olivia is going to kill him!

  Slinging the bag over his shoulder, John ran back up the steps, trotting through the building. He was in a hurry to get back to his wife, filled with worry for her safety. He failed to notice the sounds of shouting until he had already reached outside though, the chorus of angry voices sending a shiver of fear through his body.

  As he exited the building, he saw that a group of men had encircled his car. With a cold sweat breaking out, he noticed that someone was pulling a kicking and screaming Olivia from the car. With a shout, he broke into a run, rushing to defend his wife.

  He failed to see the man crouched behind the car however, and as he ran headlong into the group of young men harassing his wife, he was stunned by the feeling of the wind being knocked from his body as his assailant powered his fist deep into his gut.

  Falling to his knees, John felt dazed. He struggled, attempting to pull air into his body in order to recover. He felt powerless, the man who had knocked him down standing over him menacingly.

  “Well well, what do we have here,” he said. “This your pretty little girl?” As he said it, he casually kicked John, knocking him onto his back.

  “Don’t you worry, we’ll take good care of her, right boys?”

  The other men responded with feral grins and shouts of glee. The big man, who John assumed to be the groups leader looked back down at him.

  ”You however, we won’t be needing.”

  The horrendous brute reached into the back of his pants, pulling out a wicked looking knife before advancing on John where he lay on the ground. Some of the men started pawing at Olivia, pulling at her shirt roughly. John felt a hot rage encompass him. Scrambling back from the big man’s advance, his hand brushed against the bag he had so recently retrieved.