Turning Point_Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Survival Series Read online

  “Rita,” Krueller said, nodding softly. “Hyun.”

  “Morning, Gerard,” Kramer said.

  “What brings you to our neck of the woods?” Krueller asked. “You’re normally hanging out closer to the Cherry Hill side of town.”

  “The time is approaching,” Kramer said. “We’re getting close. Very close.”

  “Is that a fact?”

  “It is. You know it is,” Hyun interjected.

  Gerard kept a forced smile on his face as he turned from the two and looked at Lydia. “Lydia? Darling. You can head on inside, okay? I’ve got some business to discuss here. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

  Lydia nodded. “Sure,” she replied. “See you inside.” She peeled away, turned and walked around the building, heading toward one of the loading dock entrances.

  “I could have sworn we discussed the appropriate times for these little meetings,” Krueller said, his voice low through pursed lips.

  Hyun scowled. “I think maybe you’ve got a misrepresentation of who is in charge here.”

  “I’m not sure I do.”

  “Boys, come on now,” Rita said, stepping between the two men. “We’re not here to measure manhood. We’ve got common goals; does it really matter who is in charge?”

  Gerard glared at her, but nodded. “By all means. Go ahead.”

  “I’ve been called to Washington,” Kramer said. “I’m leaving in a few days. This is the first planning meeting for the First National Summit that I’ve been a part of, and it could go a long way toward finalizing our plans for next month.”

  “That is very good news,” Krueller said. “Very good.”

  “We need to start getting prepared. Exactly how many men do you have?”

  “Enough.”

  “What about the device?”

  “It will be ready.”

  Hyun Li looked at Gerard. “See that it is.”

  “Make sure your men are ready, too,” Krueller replied. “Their presence has already caused issues here today.”

  “How do you mean?” Park asked.

  Krueller looked back over his shoulder, making sure they had no close company. The alley was empty.

  “I had to take care of Karl Green this morning. He was noticing the… discrepancy in numbers.”

  “That discrepancy is his own fault!”

  “A fact that I explained to him before I put a bullet in him.”

  “Good Lord,” Kramer whispered.

  “You Americans and your guns,” Park said.

  “If the tool works, why change it?”

  “Do you foresee any issues with the Ironclad side of things?” Kramer asked.

  Gerard shook his head. “The men here have been following me for a while now. They’ve all been prepared for this eventuality. I’m not concerned.”

  “Good. Then let’s get ready. It’s going to be a busy month.”

  ***

  “Keep it together, baby, come on! Keep it together!” Phil wrapped his fingers around the steering wheel of the military transport, leaning forward in the driver’s seat. He pulled his fingers from the wheel and rubbed the dashboard as if he were petting an animal, coaxing the large, two-ton vehicle. The engine growled as he tried to accelerate past forty miles per hour, a choking, guttural whine. A series of ragged coughs followed as the truck lurched and lunged, desperately trying to make it another short distance before death.

  “What’s wrong with this thing?” Rhonda asked from the passenger seat.

  “This stupid truck was shot a hundred times,” Max chimed in from the second-row seat. “What did you expect?”

  “Not like we had much choice,” Rhonda replied, looking back over her shoulder. “When it’s take the bullet-ridden truck or die, I tend to lean toward the bullet-ridden truck.”

  Tamar leaned left, looking out of his window at the vast fields of nothingness stretching on for miles. “Hey, if we play our cards right, maybe we get the bullet-ridden truck and death. A two for one deal, huh?”

  The group had elected to take their chances and make a run for Philadelphia, narrowly escaping the battle of Pittsburgh as gunfire and explosions tore apart the world around them. Ironclad Security and the United States military were going head to head, and they wanted to be as far away from that as possible.

  Interstate 76 seemed like the most direct route, but now, as the military truck was gasping and choking and threatening death, the empty fields of absolutely nothing in all directions gave them a distinct feeling of isolation. They might as well have been stranded in the Sahara Desert instead of a two-lane highway between the two largest cities in Pennsylvania.

  Rebecca rested a hand on Angel’s shoulder on one of the bench seats, jostling him softly. “You awake, amigo?” she asked.

  His eyes fluttered and he nodded, though even the slight movement sent a wince of pain through his body. He’d been shot during their escape from the Pittsburgh Zoo, and though the bullet had passed through the meaty flesh just above his left clavicle, his left arm felt like a dull, dead weight strapped to the left side of his body. Helping to hot wire the truck had just about maxed out his capacity, leaving him exhausted in the transport section of the truck.

  “I’ll be all right, Becky,” he replied. “Just wanna rest a little, kay?”

  “Not a problem,” Fields replied. “Get your strength up.” She leaned back against the wall of the transport, her own bullet wound a dull, jagged ache throughout her body. At some point over the past few months they’d all been through the ringer, each one of them suffering some kind of bullet wound or other potentially grievous injury. How long until someone else didn’t make it through?

  Someone like Clancy Greer?

  Why was she even thinking of him? She hadn’t known him well, had known almost nothing about him besides the fact that he was a law enforcement officer in small town Colorado. But in the short time she’d known him, he’d left a mark, not just on her, but on everyone else in the truck as well. His death had been a huge loss.

  The truck made one last thrashing grind, a clunk of metal on metal, a twisting chortle, one final mechanical death throe, then shuddered and gasped, the engine cutting to a vacant, clicking silence.

  “And there it is,” said Phil, leaning back in the driver’s seat, blowing out a long, exasperated breath.

  “So… what are we going to do now?” asked Winnie, leaning over Tamar to look out the window into the vast nothingness. “I see fields and more fields, surrounded by some fields.”

  “Everyone hold tight for a minute,” Rhonda said. “Phil and I will check out the truck, see if anything’s obvious. Angel, you up for helping?”

  Angel pushed himself up with a grunt and nodded weakly, swinging his legs out over the edge of the bench and working his way to a seated position.

  “I got ya covered,” he said through sharp intakes of breath.

  “Are you sure about this, Angel?” Rebecca asked. “I think you need to rest.”

  “I’m okay,” he replied. “Sooner we get back on the road, sooner I can crash out again.”

  “I don’t think this thing’s getting back on the road,” Tamar said.

  “What do you know about cars?” Winnie asked, shaking her head.

  “Enough to know when one’s dead, girl.”

  Angel, Phil, and Rhonda exited the truck and made their way around to the front, Phil working with Angel to get the hood unlatched and popped. The transport was a large vehicle in olive drab green, and the hood a heavy, metal slab. Thin contrails of smoke were rising up from the unseen engine within the front section of the truck, though it was high enough that none of them could see directly inside.

  “Give me a boost?” Rhonda asked, putting a hand on Phil’s shoulder, and he bent down, interlocking his fingers. She stepped into them and he rose, lifting her slightly, so she could get elevated and pull herself up onto the edge of the truck’s body cavity.

  “What do you see?” Angel asked, making his way closer to the truck to try to get a peek inside.

  “Whole engine area is peppered with bullet holes,” Rhonda replied. “I’m surprised we made it this far. I think we were leaking coolant since Pittsburgh.”

  “Lovely,” Angel replied, shaking his head.

  “So what are our options?” Phil asked as Rhonda gently eased herself from the truck, landing softly down on the road.

  “Options?” Angel asked weakly. “Walk. That’s our option.”

  Phil turned, looking down the stretch of Interstate 76, pavement flanked by endless fields. He couldn’t see a single structure from where they stood. He turned back toward Angel.

  “You okay with that? You’re sounding a little worse for wear.”

  “It’s all good, man,” Angel replied. “Chest and shoulder are sore, but I got legs. I can walk. Just don’t ask me to carry anything.”

  Rhonda eased her way past them and walked to the passenger side door of the truck. She yanked it open and took a step up into the cab of the transport, looking back toward where everyone else was seated.

  “Sack up, boys and girls,” she said. “We’re hoofing it!”

  Groans echoed from the rear of the van, Max actually throwing his head back in a gesture of anguish.

  “C’mon, Mom!” he said.

  “Sorry, kid,” she replied, “My magic car repair powers must be on the fritz. We’ve been leaking coolant for over a hundred miles, it’s a wonder we even made it this far.”

  “Where the heck are we?” Tamar asked. “Place looks like Kansas or somethin’.”

  “It’s still Pennsylvania, city boy,” Winnie replied, punching him with her elbow.

  “All I see is plants.”

  “So get out and breathe the country air, it’s good for you.”
br />   “I don’t need those plant spores in my lungs, woman,” Tamar stood and moved past Winnie, stepping back toward the rear of the truck. “Where those duffel bags at?”

  “They’re back here,” Rebecca replied, waving to the rear transport compartment of the truck. Tamar took a few steps toward her and she tossed one of the duffel bags, which he snagged out of mid-air, the weapons held within clattering together inside. Fields shouldered the second bag and they joined the rest of the passengers in walking down the narrow aisle and making their way out of the passenger side of the truck.

  Out on the two-lane highway, the sun was high and hot, warbling in the pale blue sky, already pushing temperatures near seventy degrees.

  “Oh, this is gonna suck,” Tamar complained, looking up into the sun.

  “At least you don’t have a hole poked through your shoulder, kid,” Angel said, moving his left arm slightly to loosen the muscles.

  Fields and Tamar adjusted the duffel bags on their shoulders and joined the group as they began the trek down the two-lane road ahead. On each side of the wide road, fields cascaded off into the horizon, tall stalks of wheat and scattered trees watching over the wanderers with pensive, leafy gazes.

  “How long of a walk are we talking about here?” Phil asked as he shielded his eyes from the encroaching sun overhead.

  “I think we made it near Lancaster County,” Rhonda replied. “According to the map,” she withdrew the folded collection of papers from the pocket of her jeans and began meticulously unfolding it as she walked. “We might be as much as a hundred miles outside of Philly, though.”

  “Tell me you didn’t say a hundred miles,” Max said. He turned toward Brad. “Did she say a hundred miles?”

  Brad nodded. “A hundred miles.”

  “This is all farmlands,” Phil said, looking back at the rest of the group. “That means somewhere out here, there are actual farms. Just a matter of time before we find some kind of civilization.”

  Winnie’s gaze hardened. “I’m not breaking into anyone’s house.”

  “Nobody’s asking you to, Win,” Phil said. “We’ll just see how things go.”

  Rebecca brushed a stray lock of red hair from her eyes, then reached back with her other hand, combing it back with her fingers. The duffel bag jostled on her back as she did.

  “Surprised everyone is so eager to get to Philadelphia, considering what’s probably waiting for us there.”

  “I don’t know,” Rhonda replied, “after what went on in Toledo and Pittsburgh, I’m thinking that Ironclad may be just running out of cannon fodder.”

  “Keep dreaming that dream,” Fields replied.

  The road ahead angled slightly right, trees emerging along each side of the road, reaching up toward the sky. Shadows converged on pavement and as they entered the trek between the rows of thick, leaf-filled foliage, the sun drew back behind the branches, casting them in a dim, cool, refreshing shade.

  “That’s better,” Max said, lowering his hand. “I don’t suppose these trees will be here for the next hundred miles, huh?”

  Nobody answered, the group just continued walking. Phil and Rhonda remained in front, leading the pack with Max, Brad, Winnie and Tamar branching out behind them. Rebecca and Angel pulled up the rear, Angel shuffling along, pressing a hand to his injured shoulder as he moved, trying to keep up, but struggling slightly.

  Rebecca looked back toward him. “You doing all right?”

  “Yeah, I’m good.”

  “There’s no way you’re making it a hundred miles.”

  “Don’t worry about me, all right? I’ll do what I gotta do.”

  “I don’t want you keeling over halfway there. I’m not carrying you, bucko.”

  Angel smirked. “I’ll carry you anywhere, lady.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a child.”

  “Hold up.” Rhonda’s voice was a swift bark, a sudden exclamation near the front of the group and everyone did as she asked, drawing up to a halt. “Anyone else hear that?”

  The group stopped walking and looked around, trying to decipher what she was referring to. It was Rebecca that caught the sound, somewhere in the distance.

  “I hear it, too,” she said, turning and looking behind them.

  “What is it?” asked Winnie, her hand reflexively going toward her holster where her pistol was kept.

  “Almost sounds like…” Rebecca said, but a sudden burst of movement interrupted her, a large form charging through the trees, airborne, landing on the pavement with a sharp crack. Ahead of them and behind them movement flashed, large creatures bursting from the surrounding wilderness, clopping onto the road, one of them rearing up in front of them.

  “… horse hooves,” she finished.

  Horses surrounded them on all sides. Two of them were white, four were black, and two more were colored in a pattern of white and brown splotches, a world map of variant colored fur. Beneath the sleek shine of their hide, the strong muscles worked in perfectly trained tandem, each creature pacing back and forth, pinning the group between them.

  Rhonda’s eyes widened, not at the horses themselves, but at the men riding them. Each beast had a saddle strapped around their broad midsection, reins pulled tight into clenched fists, and on top of each horse sat a single rider, all of them men, all of them wearing simple hand-sewn clothes. Thick, cloth pants covered each of their legs, with basic cotton shirts, black and gray in color. Several of the men had bows strapped over their shoulders with quivers full of straight-shaft arrows slung across leather straps over the horses’ necks.

  One of the men on a black horse pushed his way through a couple others, who drew back, making a path for him to trot toward Phil and Rhonda, looking down at them. He had dark hair streaked with gray, long but well groomed, and a close cut gray beard under dark brown eyes. His shirt was brown over black, leading down to straight leg black pants, all thick cloth and hand sewn.

  “Good morning,” Rhonda said, keeping her hand at her own belt, six inches from her pistol at the small of her back. “What can we do for you?”

  “That all depends, travelers,” the man said, “on where you’re going and what your plans are.”

  Max turned slowly in the group, looking at the eight horses, walking slowly, some pacing back and forth, hard hooves cracking lightly against the paved road. Four of the men wore black cloaks of a sort, with hoods pulled up over their heads, each of them with hand-carved bows and dozens of arrows within easy reach.

  “We’re not looking for any trouble,” Rhonda said. “We’re trying to get to Philadelphia. Our truck broke down and—”

  “The military truck? That is your truck?” the man asked.

  Rhonda nodded. “Well, yes. Kind of. We found it.”

  “You… stole it?”

  “Look, man,” Phil said, stepping up between Rhonda and the man in the gray beard. “We’re just passing through. All we want is to get to Philadelphia. We’re not looking to ruffle any feathers.”

  “You walk through our lands, leave your modern machine garbage on our streets and tell us you’re just passing through? These are our lands now, not yours. Not anyone’s. This entire stretch now belongs to the Unbound.”

  “Un… bound?” Max asked. “Who are you?”

  The man tugged lightly on the horse’s reins and the beast trotted softly forward toward the middle of the group where he could look down at Max.

  “Good morning, young man,” he said with a deceiving smile. “I am Elias.” He gestured toward the others around him. “We call ourselves the Unbound. Unencumbered by modern technology. Unburdened by connectivity. We have carved out this world among the death and chaos and claimed it as our own. I’m sorry, but you do not have permission to pass.”

  Rhonda glowered at him, her hand twitching. “Elias, please. We’re just a family looking to find our daughter. She’s in Philadelphia. Please, just let us pass through and we’ll be on our way.”

  Elias shook his head. “I’m sorry, but we can’t let that happen. Our existence here is private. If others knew of it… they would come. They would flock to our land, which is now a convenience where before modern society would have scoffed at it. Humanity has learned of the perils of their modern world, and we reject your attempts to reclaim what is now ours.”

  “Enough of this,” Rebecca muttered from the rear, and within seconds, the duffel bag clanged to the road, and her hands were up, a pistol clutched in her tight fists. “We asked. We tried to be nice. Now, we get a little more forceful—”