Final Dawn: Season 1 (The Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Series) (10 page)

1:08 PM, March 27, 2038

Leonard McComb

Leonard exited the check-in station, trying to decide his next move to get off the island. Based on where he was, he had two options that had any chance of working. The first was to head east towards the Brooklyn Bridge and hope that it was still standing. The other would be to try and cross into New Jersey, directly across from where he was, near the marina, using a boat or the wreckage from one. Leonard glanced behind him towards the west side of the island and shook his head.

“No way in hell.” The damage to the city that he was witnessing firsthand was simply too great to consider that the bridges or tunnels had survived. Even though he didn’t hold out much hope of any watercraft at the marina being in working order, he figured there was a better chance of that than of the bridge still being passable.

Hoisting his supplies onto his shoulders, Leonard began to head southwest, towards the marina. Though it was only a couple of blocks away, it took Leonard almost an hour to get there. He was able to keep his nausea to a minimum by averting his gaze from the bodies in the streets as he walked along.

Leonard hadn’t been through much of the city so far, but he was able to see a fair distance north since most of the tall buildings had been destroyed. At one point, when he climbed up a particularly large pile of rubble, he stopped and looked behind him, taking in a clear view for a good two miles or so north before the plumes of smoke completely blocked his vision. From what he could see, the bridges had, indeed, collapsed, but the shifting smoke and dust made it hard to discern this for certain. Based on the layout of the debris and the fact that the southernmost tip (where he was located) looked like it was less damaged than farther north, Leonard figured that the bomb must have detonated somewhere around Central Park.

Makes sense. Detonate over the middle of the city for maximum destruction. That still doesn’t explain why, though
. Every time Leonard thought about the bomb, he wondered why it happened. Someone had gotten pissed off at the United States, that much was clear, but it still didn’t explain who did it. Plenty of countries had nuclear weapons, but he didn’t know who had enough to both wipe out New York and enough of the surrounding areas to prevent rescue personnel from coming into the city.

That’s another thing, how much of an area would they have to destroy to leave New York abandoned?
Leonard grunted as he slid down the last pile of rubble, turning his mind towards the arena and away from the bloodbath behind him.
There’ll be enough time for questions later. I’ve got to get off the island, first.

This task was much easier said than done. Leonard expected that the marina would be damaged and that most – if not all – of the boats would be sunk, but he didn’t expect the marina to be completely wiped out, with nary a boat or piece of driftwood in sight. From the looks of things, a chunk of the side of one of the nearby buildings had impacted on the marina, obliterating the docks and taking all of the boats straight to the bottom.

The only thing left standing was the marina office, which was surprisingly undamaged aside from broken windows and cracks in the edifice. Leonard pulled on the front door, pleased to find it unlocked, and walked inside. The interior was much like the exterior: messy and damaged, but still in good shape.

Maybe they have some life rafts or life jackets or something I can use to swim across.
Leonard wasn’t happy at the prospect, but just about anything was more appealing to him than being stuck on the island until help came, assuming it ever did. Leonard switched on his headlamp as he walked into a back room and down a wide flight of stairs into the basement of the marina office. He opened the storage doors at the bottom and gasped as his light hit on the object in front of him.

12:38 PM, March 30, 2038

Rachel Walsh

Once Rachel had whistled for Sam and put both him and her gear in the back of the Humvee – with both soldiers eying her small cache of weapons with caution – she got in the back seat, next to Russell. He was the epitome of a stereotypical second or third level government scientist with glasses, frizzy blonde hair, a white lab coat and a nervous habit of clearing his throat and glancing around every few seconds. Captain Waters and Lieutenant Roche whispered in the front seat for a few moments as they huddled over a map.

“Very nice to meet you, Ms. Walsh!” Russell piped up from beside her, pushing his glasses up on his face as he spoke. Rachel took his proffered hand as he continued, shaking it lightly and giving him a thin smile.

“I’m Daniel Russell; it’s an honor to meet you.”

Rachel looked at him quizzically. “Do I know you, Mr. Russell? And please, call me Rachel.”

“Oh, thank you, Ms. Wal—er, Rachel. And call me Daniel, please! No, no you don’t know me, but I’ve read several of your papers. Your analysis of the current and future state of micropolymers was particularly fascinating!”

Captain Waters’ voice broke through Russell’s ramblings as he folded up the map and wedged it into the dashboard of the vehicle. “Pipe down, Russell. Ms. Walsh, the Lieutenant and I are going to take you as far as we can into DC, but we have to make a stop in Virginia first.”

“Impossible, Captain! You must get me to DC without delay!”

The captain’s voice turned icy as he replied. “This is not up for debate, ma’am. I have orders to follow, and given that I still have very little information about why, exactly, I’m hauling ass halfway across the country, I’m going to stick to those orders first and foremost. That is, of course, unless you’d like to clue me in on what’s really been happening.”

Rachel slumped back in her seat and shook her head.
What’s the use in keeping secrets, anyway? Everyone’s dead anyway.

“Fine, Captain. I’ll tell you everything. Before I do, just tell me one thing: how did you three survive the blast?”

Captain Waters turned his head and eyed her for a moment, then turned back around, gunning the engine as they took off.

3:10 PM, March 27, 2038

Leonard McComb

Leonard was sweating profusely, cursing abundantly and smiling like a kid in a candy store as he dragged a small kayak down the front steps of the marina and slid it halfway into the water at the dock. The basement of the marina office turned out to have a wealth of supplies inside, including a pair of single-person kayaks and a wall of life jackets. Leonard assumed these were for marina personnel to use when they needed to get out into the water, but he didn’t care one way or the other. He grabbed a pair of double-bladed oars and tied several life vests around his shoulder pack and water jugs before loading himself and his supplies into the kayak.

With a slight nudge, Leonard pushed himself off of the concrete ramp and into the water of the marina. While the surface was clear of any hard debris, it was filled with trash, papers and other small items that bobbed along, clouding what little view he had down into the water. Liberal amounts of oil and fuel were present, too, judging by the smell that pervaded the air the further he pushed out into the marina.

Once Leonard hit the Hudson, he felt the kayak begin to turn with the current. He didn’t bother to fight it, choosing instead to paddle with it, aiming for Sandy Hook Bay, just under 20 miles to the south. It meant more time out in the water, but with the way things were on land, Leonard figured it would be easier to row for a while.
My legs could use a break, too
.

As Leonard passed by Ellis Island, he glanced up, pausing his rowing as he looked at the Statue of Liberty. She was mostly intact, though her torch had been sheared off, presumably in an explosion, and her gorgeous green coloring barely shone through the layers of dirt, dust and debris that coated her like it did the rest of the area. Nonetheless, Leonard felt some measure of pride at seeing her standing still, gazing into the distance as he rowed past, watching over the devastation like a silent guardian.

By the time Leonard pulled the kayak up on the shore, it was well after midnight, and he was exhausted. He was more thankful than ever for his headlamp, the only thing that had kept him from plowing straight into the nearby pier on more than one occasion. Once the kayak was up above the high tide mark, Leonard swung his legs over the side and plunked down next to it, breathing heavily. He switched off his headlamp and reached for a jug of water, taking a large gulp before setting it back in the kayak. As his eyes adjusted to the low light, the glow from the still-burning fires illuminated the night sky, blocking out any potential view of the moon and stars.

In front of him, he could still make out the island, though it was practically out of view. The surrounding islands and mainland were in similar shape as Manhattan itself, with fires burning everywhere. Down at the beach where he was, there wasn’t anything to burn, so he sat in relative darkness, surrounded by the flames of a dying world. The silhouette of an overturned Navy vessel sat a few miles out in the bay, illuminated against the horizon by the fires in the distance, another reminder of the level of destruction that had been wreaked in the blast.

Leonard felt hungry, but decided to wait until morning to dig into an MRE. As he lay his head down on the sand, he felt himself drifting off almost immediately. His tired muscles relaxed and his eyes closed, the smell of smoke dancing on his nose as he nodded off.

5:31 PM, March 30, 2038

Rachel Walsh

Over the next few hours, Rachel listened to the three men’s story as the Humvee tore over asphalt and dirt, weaving through fields and over streams as they followed parallel to the highway going north. Most of the time they were forced off-road due to the amount of cars and debris on the roads, but occasionally they were able to make better time when there was a few mile stretch that only had a car or two left on it.

“The Lieutenant and I were pulling double duty in an underground bunker at the base outside Atlanta the night the bomb hit.” Captain Waters kept his eyes glued to the road as he talked, pausing occasionally to let Russell interject.

“Yes, I was working on some refinements to one of the base systems in my lab,” Russell said. “Normally I’m able to work in solitude, but the nature of that evening’s work required that there be guards on duty. Military protocol and whatnot.”

“Around six or so, we heard this god-awful sound and the lab felt like it was going to shake apart. After all the shaking started, we all blacked out. When we came to, it was two days later and we felt like shit, but we were still alive, unlike the rest of the poor souls down there.”

“What do you mean, Captain?”

Captain Waters sighed, shaking his head. “I… I can’t explain it. Once we woke up, we broke the seal on the door and stepped out into the hallway. In every room – and I mean in every single room – there were corpses.”

“That’s not the worst part, though!” Russell interrupted again.

“Yes, I’m getting to that. Anyway, yes, as Russell was saying, that wasn’t the worst part. Our watches showed we were unconscious for around 48 hours, but those bodies were... look, ma’am, not to be too gruesome, but I’ve seen plenty of bodies in my day. And those bodies were not normal for people having been dead for two days.”

“What do you mean?”

The captain struggled to find the right words as Russell piped up again. “They were half gone! Most of them looked like a block of Swiss cheese, with entire limbs and sections of their bodies just gone!”

Rachel sighed deeply at this revelation, slumping in her chair, putting her face in her hands. “Captain, did you notice anyone else alive, or anyone missing, perhaps?”

Captain Waters eyed her again, pausing before he continued. “Funny you should ask. Before we made it out to the surface, we did a headcount of the bodies, and several people were missing who should have been there that night, according to the duty roster.”

Rachel turned to Russell. “Your lab, it was sealed and filtered?”

“Of course!”

“What type of air filters did you use?”

“Standard ULPAs. 0.12 microns. Why?”

Rachel nodded slowly. “That’s why you all survived and nobody else did. The seal in the room must not have broken after the bombs fell.”

“You mean radiation exposure? Radioactive dust?” Russell asked.

Rachel shook her head, staring off into the distance as she contemplated this new piece of information. “No… something else.”

Captain Waters didn’t say anything, but instead brought the Humvee to a halt in the middle of the highway, then turned halfway around in his seat. “Alright, ma’am. Enough with the questions. It’s your turn now. What do you know, and why are we going to Washington?”

Rachel sighed and started to speak. “Very well, Captain. You’ve been patient enough to deserve an explanation. I already told you that I work at a lab in Washington. It’s a government-funded lab, and part of my job there was— “

Something out the front window of the Humvee caught Rachel’s eye as Sam began to growl from the back of the Humvee. “Captain, I don’t want to alarm you, but I strongly recommend you get your ass moving right this second.”

Captain Waters glanced out the front window where Rachel was staring, then did a double take as he noticed what she had seen. A silvery mass was speeding down the highway, heading towards them at breakneck speeds. The captain glanced at Roche, who nodded and jumped out of the vehicle, aiming his rifle at the mass. Captain Waters turned off the engine to the Humvee, tossing the keys to Rachel as he jumped out, barking at them along the way. “Keep your asses in the truck! This thing doesn’t look very friendly.”

“That won’t do any good, Captain! You’re only going to piss it off! We need to get moving right this second!”

The captain ignored Rachel’s warning and joined Roche, the two of them crouching behind their open doors, watching the silvery mass bear down on them. After a few seconds of waiting, they both opened fire, sending several rounds into the center of it. The rounds did nothing to slow its speed or halt its advance. Within seconds of the two soldiers opening fire on the buzzing, writhing mass, it was upon them.