DEAD MOON Box Set: Post-Apocalyptic Survival Series (Books 1-3) Page 4

  If not… I’ll just need to figure it out as I go.

  I move to the right-hand sidewalk, avoiding a massive pileup taking up the entire three-lane road. Most have their headlights lit, giving me some much-needed guidance. Even if it does get completely dark, the cars still running will at least give me a path to work with. That and the fires, they are surely going to burn the rest of the night.

  There’s commotion ahead of me further down 1st Avenue. Feral screams mixed with hootin’ and hollerin’ fills the air. What the? As I near my turn I see a mob of a dozen or so men lay into a larger, hungrier group of Unseen. They fire round after round into the incoming horde, killing them one-by-one, all the while laughing and jawing at each other. But every time a creature goes down, two takes its place. It’s as losing of an endeavor as I’ve ever seen, but the morons doing the shooting apparently haven’t figured that out.

  I round the corner at Saint Catherine’s Park before I find out the outcome, and continue at a sprint. I can see more of the things in the distance, but pay them no attention. Getting to the library is my clear goal right now, and just getting there is a chore. If they want to come after me, so be it, but I’m not going around trying to pick any fights unless it’s absolutely necessary.

  Like the gunmen behind me… It’s then I notice that the gunshots have fallen silent. I shake my head in frustration. Idiots.

  Crossing the street becomes something of a task with the asphalt being covered in blood. I hopscotch through it, leap onto the sidewalk, and then clamber up the handicap ramp. As quietly, but as quickly as I can, I enter Glock drawn, aimed up the short flight of stairs to the first floor.

  Thankfully, nothing greets me, and I calmly shut the door. Backing away, I turn and cautiously climb the steps. I’ve never been in this particular building before, so I don’t have a fixed knowledge of its layout. I only know its two levels because of the number of times I’ve gone by it coming to-and-from work or being out-and-about with Jill.

  I squat and climb the rest of the way on my hands-and-knees. Peeking over the top step, I see something that actually surprises me—or should I say, I see nothing, which amazes me even more.

  The entry was full of blood and pieces, but the main floor is relatively clean of the carnage that has turned the small part of Manhattan I’ve seen into a warzone.

  Must have been a quiet morning here, I think, dissecting the room as I stand. The front desk is to my left, empty. For being over a hundred years old, the place looks nice and neat and relatively modern. I turn in a semicircle, keeping the entry to my back and see that there are, in fact, bodies, but nothing alive.

  Better than the alternative.

  Death is preferable to anything alive right now. Unless it’s human obviously and isn’t a gun-toting lunatic. I continue to search the first floor, looking for any survivors, but don’t find any. I can’t even find a frightened and distraught librarian to help.

  Secretly happy that I’m alone, I head back to the middle of the room but pause when I reach the front desk. I found the librarian, and she’s slumped behind the front desk…missing her throat. I groan my disapproval and turn away. Confirming her death stirs something in me, giving me the chills.

  I need to hide.

  I listen and again hear nothing. Calmly, I walk heel-to-toe, smoothly stepping forward, so I don’t give myself away. I breathe in and hold it, blowing it out, getting my shaking hands under control a little. I move to the stairs leading up to the second floor and ascend them with no issues—except when the sixth step creaks and echoes around the still room, causing my heart to skip a beat. I grit my teeth and pause my climb.

  Dammit…

  I wait for the inevitable to happen and anticipate that whatever creature is camped out in here will come fast and be extremely aggressive. I’ve only seen a few of these things in action up close, but they seem to rely on instinct more than intelligence. I would actually prefer them to be overly hostile because of the thought process that goes with the action. Really, it’s the lack of thought that I hope for. It’s the same with some criminals too. Those that act fast and don’t think things through are generally the easiest to apprehend.

  Or, I think, squeezing my gun harder, easier to take out.

  But again, I see nothing—I hear nothing. Regardless of the place being empty or not, the impending feeling of doom won’t subside. It crushes me, trying to keep me from moving forward.

  Thinking of Jill again, I continue up the stairs in silence and reach the second floor unscathed. There’s a sign indicating that the restrooms are in the back and I quickly make my way towards them, sweeping my gun back-and-forth. There are a couple more bodies up here, but nothing too brutal. Something was here and killed these people and I quickly inspect their faces and bodies. I can see that they were definitely human before they died. These didn’t turn with the falling of the meteor.

  I reach the men’s room and pause, ready to clear it and camp out for the night. A thought flashes through my mind, and I look down at my watch. It’s still early to me—I’m a night owl—and with no TV or company to keep me busy, I’m going to go crazy just sitting and waiting for the sun to rise. I seriously doubt I’ll sleep much considering where I am and what’s going through my mind.

  I enter the small bathroom and quickly find it empty and bodiless, which is a nice touch. It’s bad enough that I’m going to be spending time in it, but it being clear of blood and guts is an added bonus.

  Turning, I head back out to the second floor and smile when I see that the upstairs shelves are mostly consisting of fiction novels. I was a big reader a few years back, but with everything going on, my bookshelf hasn’t gotten the attention that it should be getting. I rush around the room and find one of my favorite authors and grin when I see his newer release is here and not checked out.

  Flipping open the cover, I check his Other Works section and make sure it’s the next in the series. I slap the cover shut and make my way back to the bathroom, but not before I raid the various couches of their pillows.

  Thank God for the upscale libraries of New York City.

  I frown, wishing I could just sleep on one of the sofa’s lining the perimeter walls, but know that I can’t. I’d have zero concealment and make for an easy meal if something from the outside pays me a visit.

  Entering the dank men’s room, I lock the door, making myself comfortable in the large handicap stall. Laying atop the pile of decorative pillows, I think of home, remembering the ugly ones from my own bed. I’m starting to think I may never see that place again, but shake off the depressing notion and flip open the book. Thankfully, there’s enough light to read by with the emergency lights activated—one of the only sets I’ve seen thus far. I could really do without the foreboding red color though.

  The story is about the antics of a retired Aussie combat soldier who lost his arm while on a mission. Now, he has a metal replacement, full on Skywalker-style. His love for all-things-history is a nice touch too. It’s the fastest moving series I’ve ever read, consisting of some pretty remarkable locations.

  Regardless of what tomorrow brings, I think, at least I got to have one more peaceful night.

  7

  Saturday Morning

  “Ahhh!” I awake screaming, leaping to my feet, gun leveled at…nothing. I’m breathing heavy and sweating, even though I’m slightly chilled. The bathroom stall door is still shut, and I’m standing on a pile of hideous looking pillows.

  “You’re still in the library’s bathroom,” I say to myself. “Calm down.”

  I lower my gun and tuck it into its place under my left armpit, leaving it unclipped. The magazine is fresh, having reloaded it just before I closed my eyes. It was a precaution on my end in case something got through the locked door. It was the only flaw in my plan, but I really didn’t have any better options. If something did make it in here with me, I had no doubt I could kill it before it did me. But if more than one of them got in… That was where my hiding
spot had its drawback. I’d be trapped and made an easy target for sure.

  Like shooting fish in a barrel.

  I force a full body shiver, trying to rid myself of the sinking feeling you get when you’re utterly terrified. You could be holding the cuddliest bunny on Earth, but fear will make you wish for a Holy Hand Grenade. Some people cope with fear better than others. Personally, it drives me. Some turn into useless sacks of meat, letting death come. I was taught to fight—and I will.

  I close my eyes and again breathe in deep, feeling a little better. The tension eases from my neck and back, followed by my pulse slowing. More in control, I quietly slide open the locking pin and step out, double checking that the restroom’s main entrance is still locked. It is and everything I’ve been feeling instantly subsides, a measure of relief washing over me. Now, I only have the sinking feeling of an entire city’s demise to deal with.

  Lucky me.

  But the pity party will have to wait. Jill’s life depends on me staying focused and in control of myself. Without my resolve, I’m nothing. It’s like in the ring. Whenever you doubt yourself and your abilities—you lose. Simple as that.

  Having nothing of value here, I look back to my impromptu bed and smile, seeing my book laying there. I only made it through the first few chapters, but I loved every word. Being able to escape into your own mind and away from the horrible things the real-world has to offer is a godsend. Even if you’re somewhere safe—like the Antarctic. The right book has magical powers and can cure all of life’s problems in less than a paragraph.

  For whatever reason, I promise myself to buy a copy of it the next time I have the opportunity to. Maybe it’s my subconscious trying to tell me that everything will turn out okay? Regardless of the exact reason behind the pact, I turn to leave, drawing my gun. Next, I slowly unlock the door. The deadbolt clinks open, sounding like a bomb going off in the silent room, but nothing comes bashing its way through which I take as a good sign. I gently crack the door open and listen. Hearing nothing, I step out and am greeted by more silence. It’s as beautiful a sound as I could hope.

  I grab my head as I stumble out, feeling tired for the first time since waking. Like I thought before… I didn’t sleep much last night. When I did finally get comfortable enough to pass out, I’d wake up afraid and jittery.

  Anyone got any coffee?

  Grumbling at the lack of response from a barista, I walk to the front of the room, passing tables and chairs. I do my best not to glance at the few dead bodies up here with me. It’s not exactly how I’d like to start my day. Carefully, I peek down the stairs again. Still nothing. I’m about to make my way down, raising a foot above the first step, but pause when I see a goblin walk by. I quickly crouch and shimmy behind one of the staircase’s landing newels and take in the sight.

  It just stops and glowers off to the west, watching. What’s it looking at? I have no idea, but it’s in the way of my escape. I could go out the back door, but I’d be going blind, not being able to see what’s beyond it. It’s a risk I’m not willing to take at the moment. The front is easy since I have a clear view of the street.

  “Dammit, go,” I say to myself, directing the frustration towards the goblin.

  Surprisingly, it does, moving on, but is followed by another one… Then another two… Then another seven… The street fills with the things as they slowly and methodically march west swinging their heads back-and-forth like they’re listening to a song I can’t hear. I want to make a Stevie Wonder joke but decide against it. Not only is it in bad taste, but there isn’t exactly anyone around to laugh at it.

  “Great,” I say, grunting in displeasure.

  How many more can there be?

  * * *

  Four grueling hours went by as I watched the herd thin out. They literally just kept coming. It was like a miniature wildebeest migration. There would only be one or two sometimes, but that was enough to scare me from trying to do anything. All they’d have to do was sense me coming, and they’d call out. What if I had to shoot one of them? Then I’d have hundreds of them looking for me.

  Frustrated, I stand. “Screw it.” I get up and quickly, but quietly, move down the stairs. I skip the sixth step from the bottom, remembering how it squeaked the last time I hit it. I’m not sure anything outside can hear me from behind the thick glass and wood of the front doors, but I’d rather not find out.

  Without stopping, I sharply round the base of the staircase and head for the rear of the first floor. I easily find the backdoor, following the emergency exit signs. It leads out into the alley and hopefully my escape. I gently push it open, just as a dagger-like breeze hits my face, causing me to flinch. I let go and the hydraulic pump—which must be broken—slams the heavy metal door with a resounding boom.

  As I quietly curse myself and the stupid maintenance company responsible for the busted pump, I hear the front door behind me open. I purposely left it unlocked just in case someone normal needed to get in for the same reasons I did. I couldn’t live with myself if I had locked it and then let somebody die on the doorstep. It was another reason I locked myself in the bathroom. I wanted to allow a potential survivor sanctuary while having a place of my own to hide. Plus, there are some pretty crazy people out there right now. The last thing I needed was to get into an altercation with one of them. What if they attacked while I slept?

  Now… I wish I had locked the damn thing.

  I don’t wait, throwing open the door. But I do make sure it doesn’t slam shut again. Whatever version of the Unseen coming in can have the library now, for all I care, but I don’t need it immediately following me outside. If it finds its way on its own, more power to it, but it won’t be because of me.

  Just for good measure, I drag over a couple of overfilled metal garbage cans and put them in front of the door. It won’t stop much, but the clanging of metal on metal will alert me.

  I plan on being long gone by then.

  Luckily, the clearing behind the buildings is empty except for me and some twitching debris. The air is calm and quiet, only having the slightest of breezes. I head left, looking for an alleyway. I need to keep moving south to 65th and then west to Central Park. From there I can hopefully skirt through the park unnoticed and make for the museum.

  I creep forward and see the alley I was looking for. It should lead to the road beyond—66th Street. I’ve been to the Dunkin Donuts on the southeast corner of this block numerous times, helping me with my bearings.

  Okay, I think, again moving forward, I’m only a street away from where I need to be. As long as I don’t run into any trouble, I should be fine.

  The alley is just ahead, and a sharp wind whips through it with some extra gusto. Trash goes flying behind me, heading north and I turn to watch it pass. It flows through the manmade wind tunnel continuing to the other alley, stopping when it hits a goblin in the chest.

  Goblin!

  I react without thinking and fire a single shot. It strikes the creature in the head, killing it before it can warn anything else. The echoing of the shot is followed by a curse. Unfortunately, the damage is done. Yes, I killed it before any of its friends could arrive, but in doing so, my gunshot has just done the same. They pour in from 67th Street, funneling in through the small passage. Dread fills me when I think about the size of the group that just passed me as I watched from inside the library.

  The sound of the garbage cans back behind the library spurs me into action as something crashes into them. Like a rider flicking the reins, I burst forward, running for my life once again. As I exit on 66th, I see an apartment building a few doors down and head straight for it. If I can get inside, I might be able to lose them on the floors above.

  I’ll break down someone’s door if I have to.

  It’s an ironic thought. Me, a dedicated police officer, thinking of breaking into someone’s home. It’s actually a sad thought too because I can almost guarantee most are either empty or filled with death.

  Focusing on the
glass door ahead of me, I raise my gun preparing to shatter it and leap through. I think back once again to the thought of the person not being home, or in this case, alive.

  Let’s hope I’m wrong.

  As I slide over the glass, I look to the inoperable elevators and then to the back of the building. The stairs are in the back-left, and I head straight for them, hoping I can lose the horde behind me in the floors above.

  8

  Saturday Afternoon / Present Day

  A jingling sound wakes me from my drunken slumber. Reliving yesterday’s and this morning’s events weren’t what I had in mind when I chugged the Jack and passed out. I was hoping to either think of nothing, or at the very least, dream of Jill on our wedding night. Grrr. The clinking of keys is a sound that seems so out of place right now, reminding me of my Uncle Ron’s extra-large keyring. He worked with my dad when I was a kid, and his keys reminded me of a janitor’s set. They jingled and jangled with every step he took.

  It takes me a second to fully remember where I am, but I do it without moving the slightest. Jerking awake is a good way for someone, or in this case, something, to hear you. Unfortunately, the leather recliner isn’t going to help in that regard. It squeaks and creaks with every movement as I stand.

  Plus, I think, working out the confusion in my head, the Unseen don’t use keys…

  The front door to my hideout opens, making the hinges whine in protest. Someone has entered uninvited—the owner perhaps. The thought of the owner returning to his/her home with me inside never occurred to me.

  Why in the hell would someone come back?

  I casually lift my gun and point it towards the doorway and wait. Sooner or later, owner or not, someone will come around the corner and reveal themselves.