Final Dawn: Season 1 (The Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Series) Read online

  10:19 AM, March 29, 2038

  Marcus Warden

  Bursting out of a stand of trees, Marcus raced down the last hill towards the gravel parking lot where he had left his car. He had made good time, better than he first thought, arriving at the parking lot in the mid-morning. Unsurprisingly, the parking lot was still filled with the same six cars that had been there when he had arrived. There was no doubt that anyone else in the national forest would have had the same difficulties, or worse, getting back to their vehicles as he had encountered. Marcus grabbed his keys from his pocket and pushed the unlock button as he jogged towards the car. Instead of the familiar chirp and the soft click of the locks disengaging, there was no response from the SUV. Marcus frowned, considering what the issue could be. I couldn't have left the lights on... I double checked that. Maybe the battery in the key fob is dying. That must be it.

  The car unlocked manually as he expected and he climbed in, tossing his backpack into the passenger seat. The familiar flashing security light on the dash was dark, along with the clock that normally shone a pale blue on the front dash. "Not good," he muttered to himself, jamming the key into the ignition. He turned it over several times, but no sound came from the engine. He started pressing buttons on the dash, flipping switches and trying every device in the car. The radio, lights, sunroof, windows, and power locks were all completely nonfunctional. Even the horn was silent as Marcus slammed his fist into the steering wheel, gnashing his teeth in frustration. "Dammit!" he screamed, as he threw open the door and stepped out.

  Running his fingers through his hair, Marcus began to pace and pulled his cellphone out of his pocket. While he was in the valley, it wasn’t working, but it was worth trying again, just in case. After the screen didn't respond to being touched, Marcus tapped the power button on the top of the phone, then pulled the battery out and replaced it again. Nothing worked, and the phone remained as silent as the car. Was it really this bad, he wondered, or is it just the phones? But what about the car. Surely whatever killed the car couldn't have killed the phone, too.

  Marcus continued pacing, rubbing his head, trying to think of an answer. As he passed by the rear window for the third time, it hit him, dredged up from an introductory physics lecture at Yale when he was still in that phase of not knowing what he wanted to major in. An EMP! That must be it! If those clouds were really from nuclear bombs, then they could have caused an EMP that knocked out the computers in the car and in the phone, too. While Marcus couldn’t remember the specifics of an electromagnetic pulse, the effects of one were the topic of enough television shows and movies that he was familiar with the fictionalized version. From what he remembered, detonating a nuclear bomb in the atmosphere instead of on the ground would cause a huge surge called an electromagnetic pulse, or EMP. This pulse would disable or fry any electrical devices in its range depending on the power of the bomb that was used. If the real thing was half as devastating as ones portrayed in movies, it would certainly explain what was going on with the electronics. He darted from car to car in the parking area, looking through the windows to confirm his theory. Without exception, there wasn't a single light, clock or other electronic device with any perceivable power.

  While this realization didn't help him get any closer to fixing the problems with his broken phone or his SUV, it did give him some strange measure of relief to know why they weren't working. Marcus stopped pacing and looked at the horizon. While the mushroom clouds had long since vanished, a misshapen collection of dust and soot hovered in the air in the direction of the original blasts, east toward Virginia and north toward DC. It was just under 200 miles from the outskirts of the national forest to Richmond and without a working vehicle it could take four or more days of hard walking to get there, assuming there weren’t any problems along the way. While it was impossible to know for sure if all vehicles were affected by what he assumed to be an EMP, Marcus reasoned that there could still be some type of car or truck working somewhere, as long as it was beyond the EMP blast radius. For now, though, he decided that it was better to get moving and look for working vehicles along the way instead of wasting his time searching for one right now.

  Marcus sighed, shouldered his backpack and glanced down at his compass dangling from his hip. There was a long road ahead, and he might as well get started now. With a final look back at his SUV, he began walking down the gravel road and out of the park.

  1:08 AM, March 29, 2038

  Nancy Sims

  Nancy was not the fittest of women. While she wasn't obese, she was never able to force herself to commit to a steady workout regimen and her years of working a desk job had pushed her once agile frame over the edge and into solid "overweight" territory. This, combined with her office shoes and the never-ending view of acres upon acres of corn, made the late-night walk she was on both painful and tedious. She had stopped a few times along the road, taking sips of water as she sat, watching the fires burning far off in the distance. Around one in the morning she noticed, in the distance, a small dirt road that branched off from the highway. It was the first type of intersection that she had encountered since she started walking. She squinted, her gaze following where she assumed it went. Off in the distance in the middle of a cornfield stood a white house, barely visible in the light of the moon. At the mere sight of the house, Nancy picked up her pace, half-jogging towards the dirt road. While it was more challenging to navigate the dirt road in the dark than the highway had been, she eventually made it to the front porch of the house.

  No lights were on inside or out, and she saw no signs of movement. She stepped up onto the porch, the floorboards squeaking gently under her feet, betraying years of faithful service. The moon was high in the sky, though it barely lit the front door thanks to the dark clouds that drifted overhead. As Nancy looked closer, she could see details of the door, its white paint flaking from age, the screen worn and full of small holes. She looked through the layers of screen and glass into the darkened interior of the house, seeing nothing out of the ordinary and nothing that indicated that anyone was home.

  "Hello?" she called, "Anyone home?"

  A few seconds passed and she opened the screen door, jumping as it creaked loudly in protest. She knocked on the glass several times, each louder than the last, and continued to call out. Nancy sighed and let the screen close, then walked off the porch, circling the house and peering into every window she could reach. After the second time of wandering around the house, she made her way out to a large barn several hundred feet from the house.

  She slid open the barn door, calling out as she went. "Hello? I could use some help, please!" While there was still no answer, Nancy did hear a slight rustling in the barn, followed by a quiet sound, almost like a moan. She stiffened and ducked back outside, her back pressed against the side of the barn.

  "Please, I just need some help. My car went off the road... do you have a phone?" Again, there was no answer, but the sound came louder this time, and a shape appeared through the doorway of the barn. Nancy's hand flew to her mouth, stifling a scream. Moooooo came the sound again, louder and clearer. Nancy's scream turned into a high-pitched chuckle at the sight of the dairy cow trotting out through the barn door. Laughing nervously, she gave the animal a wide berth, walking back towards the house. The cow followed slowly behind her, stopping every few steps to hungrily tear off a mouthful of grass.

  Nancy knocked on the back door of the house, receiving no response yet again. She sighed, began to reach for the handle, and then thought better of it. Suppose they're heavy sleepers, and they find me in their house in the morning, she thought. Nancy went back to the barn, sliding the door fully open to illuminate as much of the interior as possible. It was a stereotypical farm barn, with several hay-filled stalls housing cows (minus the one escapee) and a wide ladder leading up to a loft that was filled with even more hay, both baled and loose. A sink sat to one side of the interior of the barn, with a small toilet and partial structure built around it for semi-pr
ivate use. After relieving herself, she scrubbed her hands and face in the sink and filled her water bottles to the brim, draining one twice over before slowing down to only taking sips. She had been walking for several hours and didn't realize how thirsty she had become. As she looked around, wiping the water from her face and hands, a sudden drowsiness came over her. Nancy pulled off her shoes, tucking them under her arm, and slowly climbed the ladder up to the loft. Settling down into the hay, she hoped that the owners of the farm wouldn't mind her taking advantage of their unintended hospitality. They'll surely be up tomorrow, then I'll explain what happened and get a tow truck to take the car to Kansas City. I can get a rental car and still make it to Miami on time. As she fell asleep she began to dream of her new job again, pushing the memory of the explosions and destruction far from her mind.

  5:02 AM, March 27, 2038

  Leonard McComb

  Leonard leaned against the wall of the sewage pipe, wiping his face on his sleeve as he angled his headlamp towards his watch. It's only five? I'm making better time than I thought. Leonard wasn't the youngest man in his department, but unlike most of the others, he had kept himself in reasonable shape throughout his employment by watching his portion sizes, not going overboard with his weekend drinking and keeping an eye on his waistline. The result wasn't entirely satisfactory, but he was still able to run up a flight of stairs without wheezing, which is more than could be said for his coworkers, some of whom were only half his age. Despite all of this, Leonard was exhausted, and his legs ached after hours of walking through twisting pipes.

  From what he had seen so far, the damage had been much less severe than what he had experienced in the maintenance room and above. He knew that this was because he had been traveling at a slight downward angle this whole time, and that the situation might get worse as he leveled out and began to ascend towards the surface again. As he continued to walk, Leonard kept his light off as much as possible, turning it on for a few seconds at a time to check for rubble or holes in the pipes, and then turning it off as he walked forward. Down here, the air was moist and musty and there were almost no sounds save those of distant running water and occasional crashes or clatters from rodents crawling through the underground labyrinth. Though Leonard had never walked this particular pipe before, he was well in tune with the underground environment and had felt at ease for most of his journey despite the destruction and panic from earlier.

  Leonard flipped his light on again and saw, in the distance, a branch in the pipe. He left his light on and picked up his pace until he reached the fork. What remained of an ancient nameplate hung at a jagged angle above the junction, dangling from a single rusted screw, but the remaining lettering was far too aged to tell what it said. Leonard frowned, unsure what to do at this point. He hadn't expected this type of juncture at all, much less this far away from the processing plant just outside the river. If the wrong path was chosen, he could end up doubling back towards the interior of the city, circling around for who knows how long. As he glanced from tunnel to tunnel, an idea formed in in the back of his head and he pulled out one of the bottles of water from his pack. He unscrewed the top, walked several feet down into the left tunnel and poured a quarter of the bottle down on the floor in a puddle. As he watched, it slowly moved backwards toward the direction he had walked from. He followed the water back and performed the same action in the right tunnel. This time, the water slowly began to trickle forward, downward into the right-hand tunnel. "Up and out," he muttered, walking back out to the main pipe and into the left tunnel, hopeful that this way did actually go up and out.

  4:15 PM, March 29, 2038

  Marcus Warden

  After six hours of hiking, Marcus was getting concerned. He had passed numerous cars on the road out of the valley, crossed a highway and passed by a small convenience store on the outskirts of the national forest. Each car was carefully searched and he had combed the convenience store from top to bottom, but the results were the same. There was no sign of a single living soul anywhere he went. Fortunately, he was well stocked from raiding the convenience store, which was also good, since every car he checked wasn't working. Every time it was the same story; the key would turn, but nothing would come on. He had started checking batteries in the cars, but quickly abandoned that idea. Every vehicle's battery was working fine; it was the electronics in the cars themselves that seemed to be out. "Damned computers," he mumbled, chewing on a piece of jerky as he strolled along.

  As the shadows grew long in the sky, Marcus decided it was time to rest for the night. A full day's hike had put him well on his way towards the state border, but he had a long way to go before he got there. As he searched for a place to sleep, Marcus spotted a bus in the distance that had tipped over on its side in a ditch, the "Greyhound" name half-covered by mud and grass. Marcus picked up his pace, running towards the bus, hoping that this time there might be someone around. He clambered onto the side of the bus and looked through the windows, seeing nothing inside except for a mess of backpacks and suitcases, the remnants of whatever poor souls had been in the bus when it tipped over. Dammit, where did they go? This scene was getting frightfully old and it began to worry him. A few empty cars had been easy to rationalize. But a bus full of people's belongings out here on a major highway, with no one around? Something was wrong, and it was starting to look worse than he originally thought.

  Despite his growing fears, Marcus knew he needed to rest. Gripping the bus doors tightly, he pulled until they gave way and then dropped inside. While it wouldn't be the most comfortable place he had ever slept, a nagging voice in the back of his head told him that sleeping out in the open wasn't the best idea given the current situation. Marcus heaved the pack off of his shoulders, arching his back in relief, and pulled out a gas lantern that he found at the convenience store. As he turned the knob to light the lantern, he saw movement at the back of the bus that he hadn't noticed from outside. He twisted the knob, brightening the lantern, and held it forward. "Is someone there? Hello?"

  A sudden buzzing filled the air and Marcus was knocked back as a whirling mass came rushing towards him from the back of the bus. His lantern shattered against the side window and his head hit the edge of one of the seats, filling his vision with stars as he blacked out.

  9:27 AM, March 29, 2038

  Nancy Sims

  Nancy blinked several times, squinting her eyes at the shaft of light that broke through the clouds of dust and smoke overhead, passing through the open loft door and hitting her square in the face. The sounds of cows rustling and calling to each other sounded below and she pushed herself up, looking out of the loft window down onto the house. There was still no sign of movement and it didn't look like anything had been touched or moved since last night. As Nancy started to get up, she noticed a shimmering in the distance along the highway that was several hundred feet from the house. It moved quickly down the road, nearly as fast as a car, and her heart jumped at the thought. They must have gone out and are just getting back! Finally, she thought, I can get this whole mess taken care of!

  As the shimmering mass grew closer, Nancy's elation began to wane and an inexplicable chill gripped her stomach. Though the shimmer was still far away, it was close enough now that she could see that it wasn't a car. In fact, she had no idea what it was. A faint buzzing grew in her ears, and the closer she watched the shimmering mass, the more it seemed to be pulsing as it moved, almost like it was alive. Nancy sat back down, scooting over behind the side of the loft window, trying to keep herself out of sight.

  As she moved out of the way of the window, the mass suddenly stopped directly next to the dirt path that led to the house. Her fear continued to grow, overwhelming Nancy as the object moved again, this time down the dirt path, toward the house. Unable to hide herself any more, Nancy froze, unconsciously holding her breath as if that would somehow shield her from the mass that was steadily approaching. The buzzing grew louder, pulsating in her head like the sound of hornets, bees and
a broken bass speaker all tied into one.

  Unable to tear her eyes away despite her fear, Nancy's gaze widened as the object stopped outside the house, buzzing and pulsating like some type of shimmering cloud, hovering a few inches off the ground. It stayed there for a few moments, turning and moving with the breeze, the buzzing drowning out the sounds of the cows below. Then, as quickly as it arrived, it tore back down the dirt path, turning left along the highway and continuing along on its original route. A gasp escaped Nancy's lungs and she breathed deeply, realizing that she had been holding her breath in this whole time. Whatever that object had been, it must have seen her. What other reason did it have for coming towards her? But how did it see her from so far away? And why did it leave? Slumping back into the hay, Nancy closed her eyes, unable to think about the shimmering mass anymore, losing herself in the smell of the hay and the sounds of the cows, trying to forget what she had seen and heard.

  5:38 AM, March 27, 2038

  Leonard McComb

  Leaning against the wall of the sewer pipe, Leonard slurped loudly as he drained the rest of his water. This had clearly been the right path, since he had done nothing but climb upwards at a steep angle for the last half hour. By his estimation, he would be close to the surface soon, the increasing damage to the pipe proving this point clearer than anything else. More than once he had been forced to manhandle a large chunk of concrete out of the way or dig through a mound of dirt and debris that had been knocked through a section of the pipe wall. Still, despite the damage, he was making progress.