The Dead Familiar (Winterhaven Series) Read online

  "Yeah Meghan it's me, I'm here to get you to safety, did you get my message?"

  Megan replied anxiously, “yeah, but I thought you were pulling a prank...until the president came on the TV and started talking...what's going to happen Jack?"

  She looked scared, and worried. Jack's heart went out to the young girl, seeing her visible fear.

  "I'm going to protect you, and we are going to be fine. Sam should be meeting us as soon as he can, and we are all going to be alright,” he said, glancing once more at the shadow he had seen, “Meghan, who else is hiding over there?"

  The shadow stiffened at its mention. Caught, a beautiful woman came out from around the corner. Tall, with long flowing golden locks and bright, limpid blue eyes; she walked with a certain subtle sway. Possessing jaw dropping curves and thin, well formed legs that went on for miles; she was a remarkably gorgeous woman.

  Jack realized he was staring.

  With his mouth open.

  The woman raised an eyebrow at his expression, all too aware of the cause. He blushed and hurried to return to business, looking at Meghan intently to hide his embarrassment. She blanched, looking around nervously.

  "I know you said not to tell anyone, but Elizabeth is my roommate! She’s one of my best friends here too. She was over watching the game with me when the President came on and said those things… We can't just leave her Jack,” she said with some steel in her voice. Megan was letting Jack know that even if he had been inclined to leave the leggy blonde behind, the two woman were a package deal.

  "Alright, alright; no arguments from me. The two of you, nobody else though. Are you packed, because we have to leave ASAP." Jack glanced back at the door, considering his exit strategy, the voices from before still ringing in his mind.

  Meghan and Elizabeth had gone back to packing when he finished speaking, hastily throwing clothes and books into their bags. Jack started to open his mouth and say they didn't really need to worry about fashion any longer, but then he took a closer look. The two girls were packing up all the medical books they had, as well as bandages and first aid gear.

  Not bad, those are some quick thinking ladies, they’ll do well. .

  He didn't have to wait long. Five minutes from originally entering the apartment, the girls were loaded and ready to head out. Jack had his rifle shouldered again, the two girls behind him, and he raised a finger to his lips. In near silence, the three people moved out in the hallway to a small alcove.

  "Meghan, where are the back stairs to this building,” Jack asked. Meghan pointed to the left, and he headed there. Hopefully, any would be attackers would have concentrated around the front of the building where he had broken in. With any luck, he could lead the girls out the back door and through the shadowed trees to his car.

  Upon reaching floor level, Jack eased the emergency exit door open, scouting for hostiles. His long hair float in front of his face, and he swept it back while considering the way his brain was working. Hostiles? These are just college kids still. I gotta stay calm.

  Trying to breathe normally he kept himself from going into full marine mode and tried to remember his surroundings. No sense shooting a bunch of kids on impulse if they didn't force his hand.

  Luckily, at the sound of the broken glass, the angry group of drunk frat boys had run to the front door. Unsure of what was going on, they had grouped up around the door, waiting to ambush anyone who came out. No one thought to check the other exits and Jack was able to sneak the girls to the car without incident.

  Relieved, Jack ushered the girls into the backseat before climbing back behind the wheel himself. He gripped it tightly, concentrating on his breathing as he sought to release the adrenaline built up inside of himself. His hands were still, but eager; his eyes darting about and making the world appear slow moving to his sense.. With his warrior self managed, Jack throttled up the car, gunning it away from campus and towards his friend Bear Bineau’s house.

  Looking in the mirror, he caught Elizabeth looking at him curiously. Meghan was next to her trying to get a call through but having no luck. Jack drove fast, running red lights, taking alternate routes; anything to avoid stopping the vehicle. Groups of people had started to gather in the streets and at corners; they didn't all look very peaceable.

  I was right about the rioting, but I think wrong about the time frame. It’ll start soon if it hasn’t already, and it will blow up quickly. Still feeling the blond woman's gaze on the back of his head, Jack wasn't surprised when she spoke.

  "So...who are you exactly," she asked in a curious tone.

  "My name is Jack Hightower, Meghan's boyfriend Sam is my brother,” he replied.

  "I gathered that much, but I mean, who ARE you? How come Meghan got a text message two hours before the president went on-air, giving her information that no one else had. Not to mention...well look at you! You’re out here with a rifle and gear, doing what appears to be a V.I.P. pickup. Are you with the government or something?"

  Jack grunted, then replied, "I'm just someone who was prepared. Not government, not anymore. I was a Marine but that was a couple years ago though…. maybe you’re not asking me who I am so much as what my plan is?”

  Elizabeth sat back in the seat and pondered.

  "I guess I'm asking what comes next, and do I want to be here, with you. Or would I be better off on my own,” she asked quietly.

  Girls got sand...and she ain't all a pretty face. Jack thought, peeking in the mirror to examine the strong gaze looking back at him from a finely featured visage.

  "Truthfully, you want to be here; there will be other people who survive what's coming, but not many, and none of them had the chances or resources to prepare as effectively as I did."

  Elizabeth looked uneasy at that, "what do you mean by that?"

  Jack looked at both of the girls. Meghans long scarlet hair was pulled back in a ponytail, exposing the fear in her bright, luminous eyes. Elizabeth sat back, profle covered in a pool of shadow, briefly illuminated by the occasional strobe of a passing street light. She seemed collected, almost curious, but well under control.

  "I mean that almost everyone at your school… all the people we just left… will be dead within the next few weeks. Many of them within days. I have a plan to survive, and I have friends who have helped me to prepare for this. They don't. Even without any actual attack on the city, the infrastructure will likely fail when the country falls. There will be rioting, food and water shortages. Gas will run out and then food will stop coming at all. People will be starving, tearing each other apart trying to survive. Hell, that’s all assuming the best case scenario where the city isn't actually attacked but left to rot on its own. Which isn’t that likely. So yeah, to answer your question, you want to be here. Meghan’s recommendation just bought you a golden pass to my own little Willy Wonka's survival factory, and its the only show worth seeing left."

  He softened a little. "look, I'm sorry. I don't want to scare you, and I don't know who all you have out there, I'm just trying to be honest. If you have people that you want to go and take a shot with , that's fine too..." Jack said, trailing off to the sight of Elizabeth’s slowly shaking head.

  "I'm an orphan Mr. Hightower. I’ve no family, no boyfriend, and very few friends. If what you say is true, I'm also very grateful. Thank you, but I think I'll stay." She looked out the window, conversation ended, and he knew enough to leave her alone with her thoughts.

  "Meghan, I sent word to your parents in Boston. They know to get out; if they listen, they’ll have a chance. They also know where we are going, and that I'm keeping you safe,” Jack explained. He looked at her reassuringly, trying to give her a sliver of hope to hold onto. She nodded through tear-filled eyes, too smart to believe much hope could exist for anyone on the eastern seaboard, but grateful for the effort. Jack drove on, feeling the dark hollow inside himself grow.

  No matter what I do now, I'll always remember the people I couldn't save.

  Kate was ready and waiti
ng, sitting on Bear's front steps. Her bag was in hand but tears streamed in rivulets down a fear-tarnished countenance. She had gone to school with Jack and Bear, fitting in as part of Jack’s close-knit circle of friends. They had all stayed close over the years, growing into adulthood without losing that bond.

  Kate’s Archangel data drop had told her to head to Bear's and stay with him until Jack got there. She had run to the rendezvous after the president's address, too scared to doubt him anymore. Jack looked her over as they drove up, transposing the girl he had grown up with the woman he saw before him. She was medium height, with brown hair and quick witted doe eyes. Cute, though not a standard looking beauty, Kate was irresistible once you got to know her. She had a personality that drew you in, making you feel like you could trust her with your secret self. It made a man want to love her. Her kind heart and ringing laugh were always on display when she was happy, and she was a ready shoulder for her friends in difficulties. Right now though, Jack just wanted to wrap his arms around her and tell her it would all be ok.

  Kate ran out to the car when she recognized Jack, hopping into the passenger seat before slamming the door. She managed to control her sobs long enough to confirm his own fears.

  Bear wasn't home.

  Not just out, Bear had apparently left for a weekend rugby trip; he wasn’t due back until the next day, far too late for anything to be done for him. Kate had left a note on his door, telling him that she had gone with Jack and to try and get out of the city if he could. It wasn’t likely to matter. He wouldn’t know where they had gone, and would probably be stranded in any case. Jack gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles going white as his eyes squeezed shut with the realization that barring a miracle, he had just lost his good friend Bear to an apocalypse that hadn’t even begun yet..

  He barely kept himself free of the encroaching despair; remembering that the others were still counting on him.

  I can't afford to lose it here. I have to get these girls to Dax and Cyrus, then go after that last group. I'll grieve when this is all over, if there’s anything left of me anyways. Until then...I have to stay strong.

  He closed off his heart, feeling himself go cold.

  Cold is good. Cold is reason, life, mission. Focus on the Mission. Jack repeated the words to himself silently, his mantra as he drove the girls towards Gunderson's Armory.

  Chapter 5: The Confederate

  7:10 PM

  August 15th, 2015

  Lucasville, Northwest Mississippi

  George Robert Lucas III was a very, very wealthy man. His family history descended from antiquity; he was old money with all that such a heritage implied. The Lucas family had arrived soon after the first wave new world settlers, carving themselves a place in the new frontier. They had been an unimpressive bunch at the outset, working in menial labor as indentured servants, but had not remained so for long.

  After the American Revolution, the Lucas clan moved south, migrating to western Mississippi. They founded the town of Lucasville, naming it for themselves and claiming thousands of acres of unspoilt natural territory as their own. Over the many intervening decades, the family had weathered a Civil War, economic recessions, carpet baggers, and cultural shifts; doing so without losing their power or prestige and strengthening their position along the way.

  Growing wealthier with each succeeding generation, the Lucas family quietly became some of the richest citizens of the young nation. As plantation running slave owners, they had been among the first to push for independence, using their power in the state to force Mississippi to become the second state to officially secede.

  During the Civil War, they had fought for independence from the north, sacrificing their lives and wealth with the rest of the southern patriots. In the last desperate months, sensing the end, they used their remaining connections in D.C. to negotiate private settlements. This spared them from the worst of the Reconstructions, allowing them to maintain their powerful position in the region.

  G. R. himself was a student of history; both his own and that of mankind. He had learned of his families exploits at a young age, fascinated by the historic nature of clan. He believed that there was nothing new under the sun; What was once a virtue, could become a sin, and then revert to a virtue once more if given time. This allowed him a certain moral flexibility. A flexibility that he used to his eternal benefit in a myriad shady business ventures and scandalous actions.

  He had been raised to put stock in no morality but the advancement of his family and himself. To be “good” was to help the Lucas clan, and to be “evi”l was to hamper it. All other moral standards were subservient to that principle, and he relished the distorted ethical reality that he inhabited.

  Physically, he was a handsome, albeit short, caucasian male. Short brown hair, with a genial smile that showed off his glowing white teeth. G.R.’s dark brown, gold-flecked eyes hid layer’s of machinations at all times, roving restlessly in a disturbing manner. They were the only visible indication of his darkened soul, leaving people feeling uncomfortable upon first introduction.

  George Robert Lucas III was always impeccably dressed, with well manicured fingernails and stylish footwear. All in all, he presented the image of the perfect southern gentleman, embodying its ideal in his own form. Even so, spending any amount of time in his presence tended to leave an individual feeling...unclean. A casual observer would never be able to point out what exactly bothered them, but still, his behavior tended to be slightly off putting.

  His family tree had been whittled down over the years, down to one sole remaining branch. He was its lone descendant, and carried the weight of the family name like the festering madness of his mind. With the responsibility of renewing its growth, he had also garnered all of the Lucas families’ wealth and influence. He maintained close relationships with members of government and industrial titans of the age. It was through those connections that G.R. had kept himself apprised of the true nature of the world’s conflict.

  When his friends on the Hill first told him the state of things, G.R. hadn't believed them. To believe that the United States of America could fall… it was too much. As he became more accustomed to the idea though, he began to see the possibilities inherent. If a man were well prepared, he might not only survive the apocalypse; he might go on to thrive in the new world.

  The more G.R. considered it, the more he grew excited at the prospect. He could take the Lucas family name to new heights; places unachievable under the old regime. Without the impediments of law and government, he could bring forth a new confederacy, his own dynasty at its head.

  With a glowing vision of a resurgent south beneath his heel, George went to work. Over several months, he had prepared for every conceivable eventuality. G.R. spent a fortune on improving his estate; he built walls, restored and renovated buildings and made it over into a well appointed fortress.

  He had also gone about hiring an extensive security force, in order to provide the core for a future army. He was very selective. Only former military men who were from the south and of Caucasian descent were sought. He also made sure his recruits were married men, believing that if their families were to benefit in his new regime, they would be more loyal to him in the future. His men were outfitted extensively, given matching uniforms of dust grey and the most advanced weapons and armor that could be purchased. He stockpiled food, ammunition and fuel. With several hundred men gathered to him before the fall, and the equipment and materials to survive the immediate aftermath, G.R. was as ready as he could be.

  On August 15th, he received one final call from his friend in congress. After hanging up he summoned his officers.

  "Gentlemen, I have news. From my source in the government, I have been able to learn that our nation will most likely not survive until dawn." One man chuckled at this statement, sure that this employer was pulling his leg. Laughing along, G.R. put up his hands.

  "I know, I know, it sounds ridiculous, but I assure you, I am serious. Somet
ime tonight, we believe that our government will authorize the use of nuclear weapons against the Chinese. The war we have been fighting over the last three years has been a losing one; They feel that in order to provide a future free of Chinese domination, we must strike first. Unfortunately, the Chinese will likely strike back, and through the course of the night, our world as we know it will be destroyed,” he explained with a disinterested tone.

  No longer chuckling, his men looked at him in shock. Finally one managed to ask him, "Sir, are you serious?"

  George Robert Lucas III turned to look at the man.

  "Deadly serious son." He looked around the room, staring into each man's eyes to communicate the reality of their situation. Then he smiled, flashing his perfect white teeth at them.

  "Ok, now for some good news. I have had months to plan for this moment, and using my extensive fortune, I’ve gotten ready. When the new day dawns, we will not find ourselves powerless, nor destroyed. I am prepared to offer you and your men a place in my new empire… but on one condition."

  He stood, walking around to the front of his desk, staring imperiously at the frightened soldiers. "I will have your absolute allegiance. In exchange for your oaths of fealty, I will provide for you and yours. You will have security, wealth, and a place of honor in my new world. Can you give them?”

  The men looked at each other nervously. Normally, there was no way that they would have considered giving their words of honor to a man like George. They had all heard the rumors, talk of the evil that hid beneath his bright exterior. He was a ruthless man, with no morality but his own advancement.

  They had taken the job because he paid incredibly well, and he let them bring their families. Some of them also liked his whites only policies as it fit with their own sense of decorum, but to pledge loyalty to the man… that would have been an unthinkable step.

  Sensing that they were unsure, he gave them some help, "look gentlemen, I know it's a hard thing to ask. I'm asking you to trust me, to put your faith in me.” He looked about the room, making eye contact with each of his officers before continuing, “but let me be clear, out there..." he waved to the window,"out there is going to be hell on earth, in all it’s flaming wretched glory. I'm offering food, shelter, a future, and more importantly, power. If you stick with me, you’ll help to build something marvelous, You will be generals, and governors. You will command thousands someday, hold sway over your own lands. Your wives will be esteemed ladies, ever grateful to you for their elevation. Men will want to be you; they will follow your order’s, and heed your every word. This is what I am offering you few men. And all I ask in return is your loyalty. Is that so much,” he asked with a raised eyebrow, seeing the glint of greed alight in their eyes.