Unravel: It Falls Apart Book 2: (A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller) Read online

  His mission to get Joyce to her father had been renewed in that phone call that had no business making it through. That scattered and broken conversation between Olivia and Joyce’s father was pretty much the only thing that had him feeling remotely motivated as he guided the truck down the mountain roads.

  About two miles away from the cabin, they came across a car that had swerved off of the road. It had strayed to the side without a guardrail, and it had nearly gone all the way down the mountainside. It had struck a large elm tree and the driver had blasted through the windshield; he was currently tangled around the same tree that had smashed in the front of his car. It was a messy sight to behold and Paul was glad that Joyce was distracted by her snack and her book.

  Five minutes later, they came to Brownstone with its one store, gas station, and post office. When they had come through to get to his grandfather’s cabin, he’d been shocked to see a line of traffic being halted and investigated by cops. The sight waiting for them on their way out was quite different.

  There were eleven vehicles scattered all over the road, and to the dangerous sides. Two were cop cars and the others were a mixture of basic cars and trucks. They were in strange positions, not parked or stalled, but stopped as if they’d been trying to escape. Three bodies were splayed out in the middle of the road, one surrounded by dried blood. And it was there, just a few feet shy of the bodies, that Paul had to bring the truck to a stop. A small pickup truck and a minivan were blocking the road just beyond the bodies. From what he could tell, the truck had been waiting to make it through Brownstone, and the minivan had been in the process of backing up in the parking lot of the small convenience store. The minivan was riddled with bullet holes, two of which had torn through the windshield. One of those shots had taken the driver directly in the chest.

  Paul put the truck into Park and looked cautiously through the windshield. “I’m going to have to try to move one of them,” he said.

  “Need some help?” Olivia asked.

  Paul eyed the little pickup—an older model Nissan—and shook his head. “I don’t think so. You ladies stay here in the truck.”

  As he opened the door and stepped out, he noticed Joyce briefly looking up from her book. He hoped she didn’t look to the driver’s side of the minivan. Because even as he closed the door and stood in the center of some terrible event, he started to get a better idea of what had happened here.

  One of the three men in the center of the road looked as if he had been coming into Brownstone expecting combat. A shotgun lay just out of his reach, and he had two pistols, one holstered on each hip. He also wore a fanny pack which was unzipped and had spilled out several rounds of ammunition for the handguns. The man that had fallen next to him was missing most of his head, making Paul assume he’d been taken out by the first man’s shotgun. Judging by the hole in the minivan’s windshield, Paul suspected the driver had caught the same fate.

  In the midst of it all was yet another sight; in the road, on the sides of the cars, and in the convenience store parking lot, he saw dried vomit. Paul was slightly bothered that it did not affect him anymore. Blood, puke, dead bodies…just another day. Considering the darkness in this thought, he looked beyond it all and walked over to the Nissan. It was pointed away from the convenience store, as if the driver had intended to head back down the mountain. It was sitting at an angle that would make it quite easy to move off the road, but it would still take some strength.

  Paul opened the driver’s side door and did his best not to look at the dead driver or to gag on the overwhelming smell of sickness that came wafting out. He straightened out the steering wheel and then nudged the driver over. He was stiff and when he fell over it sent a new breeze of that sick smell out. Paul winced, quickly leaned into the truck, and shifted it into Neutral. He wasted no time heading to the back of the truck. He started to push and found that the downgrade of the hill was going to help more than he’d hoped. The truck started moving at once, heading for the edge of the road and the side of the mountain beyond.

  The truck picked up speed as soon as the wheels started moving and before Paul knew it, the truck had gotten away from him. The truck and its dead driver went not only off the road, but down the side of the mountain. There was a thunderous crash as it pinballed off of at least three trees before coming to a skidding stop, flopping over, and settling against yet another tree. In the silence of the mountain morning, the commotion of it all sounded like he had stepped into a warzone.

  It had been effective, though; the road was now mostly clear. Paul started back for the truck but then hesitated. He glanced to Olivia through the window and held up a single finger, signifying: One second. He then hurried across the parking lot toward the convenience store. He slowed when he reached the door, not quite sure what to expect.

  He’d been inside the store many times before, so he knew it was very small. It was closer to a little country store rather than an actual convenience store, but because it was the only business of its kind within about ten miles, it was usually well-stocked. When Paul entered, he saw the floor littered with bags of chips, a knocked-over stand of sunglasses, and an assortment of snack cakes. Almost habitually, he picked up a few of the snack cakes as he headed for the front counter.

  Paul was surprised to see no bodies in the store. He couldn’t help but wonder if the proprietor had known what was coming and bailed on the business, leaving the doors open for any troubled travelers that might need provisions. The place certainly looked as if it had been picked over, but in a hurry and not a long methodical theft. The mess, in relation to the lack of people inside, creeped him out in a way he could not explain, so he put some speed to his step. When he reached the counter, he scanned the area and found what he was looking for located to the far edge of the counter behind a few containers of lollipops and bubble gum. He took a few of the lollipops before turning his attention fully to what he really wanted: a map.

  Paul thumbed through the maps, worried that the most he would get was a road map of West Virginia and nothing more. He was about to give up hope when he spotted two thin books behind the little stand of maps. It was a map of the US, broken down into regions and spread over six total pages. While the map was not detailed, it gave him enough indication of the interstates and major roads, and he figured that was all he’d need.

  He hurried out of the store and back to the truck. Olivia was staring through the window, anxiously waiting for him to return. When he was back behind the wheel, she seemed to relax.

  As he started the engine, Joyce looked up at him with great concern. “Did you mean to wreck that truck?” she asked.

  “No, sweetie. The hill was steeper than I thought and it got away from me.”

  “I can’t believe you pushed the whole thing,” she said, slightly in awe. “You must be really strong.”

  “Sure,” Paul said with a smile. “Let’s go with that.” He then handed Olivia and Joyce the map, along with a lollipop each. “You girls think you can help me find the quickest way to Minnesota?” he asked.

  “That’s where my Daddy is, right?” Joyce asked.

  “Right,” Olivia said, taking the map and giving Paul a silent thank you with her eyes. “So let’s see if we can help Mr. Paul get us there quick!”

  Paul pulled ahead, driving past the area where the Nissan had been. With no idea what to expect along the roads, getting to Minnesota seemed nearly impossible. But Joyce’s little comment flickered in his head like a small candle. “You must be really strong.”

  He didn’t feel strong, and the thought of crossing several states in the midst of the hell that had erupted over the earth made him incredibly uneasy. But with an unobstructed road ahead of him and his two travelling companions coming up with a plan, he’d forge on. He’d started the day burying his grandfather. Maybe he could end it by keeping the hopes of a little girl alive.

  Chapter 3

  When Katherine stepped out of her car and looked to the townhouse that Terre
nce Crowder had once lived in, she felt as if the pressure of the world was at her back. She felt it pushing, nagging, making sure she was capable of doing the job that had been set before her. She simply looked at the townhouse for a while as Luis got out on the passenger side. To both sides of the townhouse, there were identical homes. Basic, two-story townhouses. Sitting between two that were clearly occupied, the one belonging to Crowder had clearly not been lived in for a while.

  Old piles of tattered leaves had been blown against the stairs. An old takeout menu that had been tucked into the screen door sat discarded and bloated by rainfalls past on the doorstep. Even the glass along the screen door looked old and out of place—and in terrible need of a scrubbing.

  “Well, one thing is for certain,” Luis said as they headed for the steps. “If Crowder does own this place, he hasn’t been here in a while. Did you read his file?”

  “Of course not,” Katherine said. “I got the emails the same time you did, and I drove. I assume you read them?”

  “Scanned them. Makes sense he could afford this place and some other place in Maryland. From what I can tell, he used to work for Homeland Security. Even served as liaison between HS and the CIA. Hired by some private organizations to help improve their security networks.”

  “Sounds important,” Katherine said as she opened the dirty screen door. “But most importantly, he apparently had friends that were domestic terrorists.”

  “I don’t know if they were friends, but yeah…he had some dealings with some very shady characters.”

  “And that’s all I need to know,” Katherine said. She then nodded to the doorknob and said: “Have at it.”

  Luis reached into his inner jacket pocket and removed the lockpicks he kept on him. He also kept toothpicks and a small Maglite flashlight in the same pocket—always prepared for just about any situation. As Luis set to work at the lock, Katherine looked down the remainder of the rows of townhouses. There were lots of cars parked in the lot considering it was 9:37 on a Tuesday morning. She knew most businesses had closed down over the weekend, fully prepared to roll under if the Blood Fire Virus reached them. Somewhere, she could hear a child laughing and the murmur of a loud TV. It was a good reminder that although things were hectic about three hours to the east, they still had at least some degree of normalcy here in Richmond.

  “And we’re in,” Luis said, breaking her concentration. He opened the door, pocketed his pick and stepped inside. Katherine entered behind him and closed the door instantly to keep away from any prying eyes.

  Once inside, she tested the light switch by the door, fully expecting the power to be out. She was proven correct; the lights did not come on. In fact, as she took her first step into the place right behind Luis, she was quite sure the place was pretty much nothing more than a well-kept abandoned home. There was a stale smell in the air—nothing foul, just lingering dust and neglect.

  The front door opened on a small hallway, the dining room off to the left. A nice table sat in the center of the room, along with four chairs. There was a layer of dust on the hardwood table, furthering the fact that the place had not been lived in for quite some time. The hallway led into a living area, which was connected to a kitchen which then led back to the dining room. A set of stairs off of the living area invited them upstairs. They took a few moments to check over the downstairs first, making sure nothing was missed. There was a television over the small fireplace, and a coffee table that held a remote control and two magazines.

  Luis went to the table and checked the magazine. It was an issue of Time with some politician on the front. Luis eyed the cover and said, “Less than a year old.”

  “So maybe he does come here every now and then,” Katherine said. “Either as a change of scenery or to get away from people that he thinks might be looking for him.”

  “Yeah, it would be nice if we had more information about him,” Luis commented.

  “I think they just wanted us to come here, hoping to find him and bring him in.”

  Katherine ventured into the kitchen and opened up a few cupboards and drawers. The place was equipped with the bare minimum: two glasses, a single coffee cup, an old and barely used Keurig coffee maker, a small box of plastic forks, a single pot for the stove that held just about as much dust as the dining room table.

  “I’ll check upstairs,” Katherine said, getting an eerie feeling as she left the kitchen.

  She started to wonder if Terrence Crowder continued to pay monthly rent on this place or if he owned it. Ownership seemed most likely, as it would eliminate the need to send a landlord monthly rent checks. As for the lack of power, she supposed they could call the power company to see when the power was last used. She knew it was very much possible to cut the power on and off to a property at an owner’s request; her cheapskate father had done this to some extent whenever they’d gone on vacation when she was a kid, just to knock a few bucks off of the electricity bill.

  She also wondered how often the higher-ups in DC sent people down to Richmond to check on this place. She assumed the information of Crowder’s address (and the second one that belonged to some guy named Kettle) was in some top-secret filing system in DC and not routinely offered up to lowly field agents or their supervisors in Richmond. It all felt a little strange to her and had her feeling out of her element as she came to the upstairs hallway.

  She performed a routine check of the place, not sure what they should be looking for if Terrence Crowder himself was not around. She checked the bathroom and found nothing but a single old, and mostly-used up, tube of toothpaste. The hallway closet contained nothing but dust-bunnies, and the small office space contained a very basic desk with a cheap folding chair tucked neatly beneath it.

  The bedroom was just as bare, only it did give her pause. There was a mattress on the floor, and a set of sheets neatly folded at the foot of it. She wasn’t sure why the sheets rubbed her the wrong way, but they did. Had Crowder been here recently but gone to great lengths to disturb as little of the place as possible? It opened up an entire treasure chest of questions. For starters, was Crowder aware that the FBI knew where he lived? And if so, why even keep this secondary home? Maybe he knew they were tracking him and wanted two locations to keep them on their toes, never quite sure where he might be at any given moment.

  Again, it brought up the frustration of not having enough information to go on. They were going in blind, really. And now that they knew this townhouse was empty, they’d continue on just as blind to George Kettle’s address somewhere in the Blue Ridge Mountains. But if Rollins wanted them on the road for a total of five hours to go scope out a place that was likely just as empty as Crowder’s townhouse while other agents drowned in old reports, that was fine with her.

  She returned downstairs where Luis was looking through the downstairs bathroom. When she poked her head in, he was looking in the cabinets under the sink. He pulled out an unopened bottle of cheap pump soap and showed it to her. “Not exactly damning evidence,” he said.

  “Nothing upstairs, either,” Katherine offered. “I’ll call Rollins and let him know. You ready for a ride out to the mountains?”

  “Instead of all those reports and dead ends?” Luis said, tossing the hand soap back underneath the sink. “Absolutely.”

  They left the Richmond residence of Terrence Crowder exactly seven minutes after walking through the front door. And even as Katherine spoke with Rollins on the phone, letting him know the place was basically a tomb, she again felt that sort of nudge at her back—the same feeling she’d experienced when getting out of the car when they’d first arrived.

  A chill rode up her spine as she obeyed that push and hurried back to the car. For all she knew, it was the universe telling her to hurry up. There was a virus on the way and they were running out of time. The world was folding in on itself and not even the next second was guaranteed. She felt it when she pulled out of their parking space and it only seemed to intensify as she headed out towards the inter
state where traffic was starting to get very thick.

  ***

  They’d been on the road for a grand total of ten minutes when Rollins called. Katherine knew how much he hated speaking on the phone, so she knew right away that the news was not going to be good.

  “Thought I’d let you two know that some agents out of the Atlanta field office did indeed find a bomb tucked away in a suburban area,” Rollins said. “From what I heard just now on the phone, literally moments before I called you, it had a timer set to it. The timer had not yet started counting down and as of now, no one knows when it was supposed to start counting down.”

  “Do we know if it’s linked to the bomb that went off in Texas? Or the one reported to have gone off on the coast of New York?”

  “Not for sure, but the early guesses indicate this bomb would have likely caused a similar-sized explosion.”

  “Where was it located?” Katherine asked.

  “I’m not clear on that, either. I’m told it was found by a canine unit in the bathroom of an apartment inside a condemned building. I’m only informing you of this to let you know that this is for real. We don’t know where the bombs are, why they were distributed at all, or how many there might be. You two are the only ones I’ve sent out on other assignments, so just make sure you’re on top of your game.”

  “Of course,” Katherine said. “We’re about to get on the toll road heading out of town, towards Chesterfield. ETA to Kettle’s Blue Ridge residence is about two hours and twenty minutes, depending on traffic. As you can imagine, it’s getting pretty thick out here.”

  “Okay. Keep me posted.”

  Katherine wanted to ask Rollins to also keep her posted on any further discoveries from other cities, but he’d already ended the call. Katherine sat on the information she’s just been given, feeling Luis as he looked over to her, waiting for the update.