Life After: Episode 2 Read online

  Life After: Episode 2

  Life After: Episode 2

  Midpoint

  Life After

  Episode 2

  by

  JJ Holden

  Following a civil war that left the United States in ruins, the remaining few who managed to escape the Imperialistic Army and the horrors of their death camps must unite and fight to reclaim their country.

  Copyright © 2014 by JJ Holden

  jjholdenbooks.blogspot.com

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  * * *

  Clark heard his boots crunch against the dry twigs that littered the forest floor. Jeff walked by his side through the countless trees as they made their way south to join the rebellion to fight against the Imperialistic Army that left the United States in shambles. He heard the wind pass through the branches. Another storm was on the way. He also heard the boy and the man walking behind him. He was glad they stayed to ensure their safety. He reflected on the fact that without them, the boy and the man would be cooking over an open flame, ready to be consumed by the savages created by the fallout.

  “So what are your names?” Jeff asked.

  The man spoke in a soft voice. “My name is Charles. Why are you wearing those uniforms?”

  “We aren’t who you think we are,” Clark said. “We may be wearing the Imperial stormtrooper uniforms, but we aren’t one of them. I guess we’re just keeping the uniforms on in case we run into an Imperial loyalist.”

  “Why is this happening?” the boy asked with a voice that was even smaller than he was.

  “Thomas,” the man said to the boy abruptly, “I don’t think you should—”

  Clark cut Charles off for the second time, though he didn’t do so out of malice. “I don’t mind answering that,” he said. “Let’s just say the general public had the wool pulled over their eyes during time of great need. The popular vote brought Robert Skelton into office, but the public had no idea of his intentions. They had no idea that he was National Socialist cloaked as a Democrat who claimed to fight for freedom. The destruction of the Empire State Building and most of Manhattan in 2020 was not an act of terrorism…it was Skelton who orchestrated those attacks to instill fear on the entire nation, and he rode in on his so-called white horse of benevolence to save the day.”

  “The public definitely acted out of fear,” Jeff said. “They voted for whoever promised them the most. The economy was a mess and Skelton offered each and every household an annual stipend. He basically paid his way into office with tax payer money.”

  “The loyalists still act out of fear,” Clark said. “They think that the rebels are a terrorist cell that needs to be destroyed. They think we are the reason the county is in the shape it’s in.”

  “Which is why they don’t feel remorse for putting the rebels in concentration camps,” Charles said.

  Clark started up an incline and felt the cool breeze of the on-coming storm flow through his blond hair. “Precisely,” he said. “Whoever isn’t for Skelton is against him, or so they say. So the rebels must be quarantined until the war is over. They think that the rebels are just being held there. The footage they’ve seen of the camps show favorable conditions. They have no idea about the prisoners being lined up and gunned down each and every day to make room for more. They have no idea about the incinerators. They don’t know of the gas chambers, nor of what they do to the unfortunate souls who are born into such horrible places.”

  “We were stationed at a camp a few months ago,” Jeff said. “I was a sharpshooter before they made me go to that horrendous place to do their dirty work. I couldn’t do it, though. I couldn’t kill innocent people. And so I fled along with Clark. I still think about those people there. I have nightmares to this day…”

  Clark turned to the look at the boy. “I’m sorry all of this is happening. I really am. We need to find other survivors and do something.”

  Jeff shrugged “If we don’t then who will? Canada and Mexico have their hands tied. They fear that Skelton will invade their countries after he is finished liquefying the dissenters in his own.”

  “And what about the United Nations?” Charles asked. “Why aren’t they stepping in at a time like this?”

  “The member states of the UN have their own problems. Besides, Skelton has convinced them that there are no concentration camps,” Clark said.

  Charles’s voice raised slightly and his face grew red. “I find that hard to believe,” he said. “They can easily see satellite imagery that shows—”

  “Not since he nationalized the mapping companies and the tech companies who release those images with their mapping programs,” Clark said. “They are only showing older aerial photos. It’s a big cover-up. If anything, countries like France, Germany, and Russia might even send troops over to help Skelton. They think he’s trying to save the world or something, though he’s trying to use the worldwide calamity to further his reach. To further his empire…”

  Gunfire erupted nearby.

  “Over there,” Jeff said, pointing to a group of trees that were situated near the edge of a drop-off.

  “Stay here,” Clark said to Charles and Thomas. He and Jeff approached the trees and peered down the hill. Near the bottom of the hill were four soldiers, all looking down at several bodies that lay near a stream. A boy remained standing near the adults that were slaughtered.

  “My God,” Jeff said.

  Clark heard the booming voice of the commanding officer as his three subordinates aimed their guns at the boy. “What the hell are you waiting for?”

  None of the soldiers answered. They just stood there, aiming. All waiting for someone else to pull the trigger. Obviously they were fine with killing the adults in the group of rebels, but were hesitant to kill the brown-haired boy who shivered uncontrollably.

  “We need to do something,” Clark said.

  There was silence.

  Finally, Jeff spoke meekly. “We’re outnumbered. Even if we do something, they’ll kill the boy, then us…”

  “Remember,” Clark started, “we are wearing the same uniforms as them. I have an idea.”

  Without hesitation, Clark stepped to the edge of the hill and fell to his knees. Waving his arms in the air, he yelled to the soldiers. “Help!”

  All of the soldiers looked up at Clark.

  “I’m out of ammunition, and I’m being chased by rebels,” he screamed. “Help!”

  “Come down here,” the commanding officer said.

  “I can’t,” Clark said. “My right leg is busted up pretty bad. I won’t make it down in time before they catch up with me.”

  “I’ll kill the boy myself,” the officer said, pulling the boy towards him. “Go take care of those rebels.”

  The three soldiers started up the hill. Clark turned around to look at Jeff, who remained behind a tree. “Take out the commander,” he said.

  Moving out slightly from the tree, he saw that the boy was in the way of his target. He steadied his aim and waited. “Move, you bastard,” he said under his breath.

  Just t
hen, Jeff saw the commander throw the boy to the ground and aim his pistol at him. Jeff squeezed off a single shot that pierced the commander’s skull. The commander’s pistol dropped to the ground and hit the ground seconds before his body followed suit.

  Clark grabbed his rifle and aimed it down the hill. “A little help,” he said, hoping Jeff heard him. He fired off two shots before he heard Jeff’s rifle to his left. One of the soldiers took a bullet to the chest and fell backward. The other two crouched and aimed their rifles up the hill. Each fired a shot. The tree by which Jeff stood took the first bullet. Jeff’s left arm took the second. Jeff held back his agony and leaned out farther to get a better aim at the soldiers who were now in a near-prone position on the incline.

  Jeff squeezed off a shot that hit one of the soldiers in the temple. The last remaining soldier sat up and fired upon Jeff, hitting him in the chest.

  Clark screamed out for Jeff but it was too late. He rose, lifted his rifle and aimed it down the hill at the soldier. The soldier looked into Clark’s eyes a split second before reacting to the imminent danger. He turned to aim, but it was too late. Clark had fired the first shot with such precision, even Jeff would have been proud. The bullet careened through the moist air beneath the forest canopy and into the right eye of the soldier.

  Clark rushed over to Jeff, but there was nothing he could do to save him.

  “Jeff!” Clark screamed.

  Clark stared at Jeff as he lay motionless on the blood-stained soil and realized that he had lost his last remaining friend.

  * * *

  The boy stood at the bottom of the hill, still shaking. Still horrified by what had transpired. He had just witnessed the death of his father and brother at the hands of the soldiers that now lay in bloody messes all over the forest floor.

  Up the steep incline, he saw one remaining soldier standing over a body, perhaps the body of the person who attempted to intervene. After a few minutes, the soldier, with a rifle by his side, descended the hill. The boy’s heart pounded even faster.

  The boy ran away from the carnage and away from the man who pursued him.

  He heard the man’s voice ring out. “Wait!”

  The boy did not hesitate to run faster.

  “I’m trying to help you!”

  Faster yet, away from the calls of the man. The man who probably wanted him dead.

  The boy thought of his short life. He wasn’t ready to die. Not more than ten minutes prior, he was facing death. His life flashed through his mind then and now again with the solider in hot pursuit.

  As he ran, he tried to keep his footing, avoiding the large roots that jutted out from the loose soil. He successfully dodged a few particularly large roots as he sprinted towards an unknown destination. Towards an unknown everything.

  Just as he thought he’d have a chance at getting away, a root seemed to almost grab him by the ankles and drag him down. Like the time his older brother pulled him into the deep end of the pool as a silly prank, only this time, he knew it wouldn’t be a silly prank. It would be the end of him.

  He didn’t think of the days he spent in school before the collapse. Several years had passed since he stopped going to school, so his mind was littered with memories of the recent past. Instead of thinking of his past life, he thought of the day he lost his mother a few months prior. Then he thought of his father and brother. He closed his eyes and wished upon everything that it was all a nightmare, but when he reopened them, he was still on the soggy ground. Still at the mercy of his oncoming adversary.

  Then he heard a pair of boots pressing into the soggy soil. He lay still, hoping the monster would take after the T-Rex he remembered reading about. Don’t move and he won’t see you! Don’t move and you’ll live!

  The sound of boots stopped, and a voice took over the silence. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Then he heard another voice, that of a boy around his age. “He won’t.”

  The boy looked back and saw the soldier, a man in civilian clothing, and a young boy. He had beaten death for the time being, but as he found out over the past few years, the looks of those saying they are trying to help you are deceiving. Only time would tell if his intuition would get the best of him.

  * * *

  Thomas walked beside the boy as they continued south. Nobody spoke as they went. Then, Thomas’s voice broke the silence.

  “I’m Thomas,” he said to the boy. “What’s your name?”

  The boy glared at Thomas.

  Thomas knew how the boy must have felt, having just lost his family. “I’m sorry.”

  Thomas saw the boy look at him again, this time his face red with anger.

  “I lost my father six months ago,” Thomas said. “I was heading up north from Philadelphia, because my dad heard that there were refugee camps in the wilderness up in Tioga County. On the way, maybe past Williamsport a bit, he was killed by a lone soldier. I managed to get away, but part of me wishes the soldier would have killed me and spared my dad.”

  The boy looked down for a moment, his face returning to his normal pale color that allowed his freckles to be seen. “I don’t understand the world,” the boy said.

  “Neither do I,” Thomas said.

  “I mean, one minute everything is normal…then…”

  “Then it all goes to hell.”

  “Yeah,” the boy said. “To hell. That’s where I feel like I am right now.”

  “I don’t think you’re alone,” Thomas said, looking past Clark and Charles. They were heading towards a stream.

  “We’ll take this downstream,” Clark said. “Drink up, everyone. And fill up whatever bottle you have, Charles.

  “We need to be careful,” Charles said. “A water source is a magnet for all sorts of things.”

  “But it attracts animals we could use for food,” Clark said. “And we could use some food pretty soon.”

  “Using our guns will attract too much attention,” Charles said. “Maybe we should find other sources.”

  “If we follow this south, which is the way we need to be going anyway, we should eventually run into civilization. Or what was once civilization.”

  Charles cleared his throat. “Hopefully not an Imperialist-controlled town.”

  Thomas listened as Charles and Clark devised some sort of plan. Then, as they spoke, he turned to the boy who walked beside him. “So you never told me your name.”

  The boy looked at Thomas and spoke softly. “I’m Tyler.”

  * * *

  After following the river downstream, they stumbled upon a bridge that led them to a small town. Charred remains of buildings flanked the broken road that split the town in two parts, both equally desolate.

  “Down further,” Clark said. “It looks like there are some structures that are unscathed down there a bit.”

  They continued on and found a corner store that had slight damage to its brick construction. The glass display window that bore the store’s name and phone number was spared and fully intact.

  “Bob’s Market,” Charles said, reading the lettering on the window. “Sounds quaint.”

  Clark checked the front door and noticed that its lock had already been broken. He turned around to look at the rest of the group. “Stay here while I give it a once-over.”

  Clark pushed the door inward and entered the store. To the right, he saw sunlight flow through the window and articulate the dust that seemed to hang motionless in the thick air. He lifted his rifle and scanned the isles, looking for anyone who may be lurking about. Stepping forward, he listened. Silence.

  He walked through the center isle and saw that the shelves were mostly bare. Only a handful of cans remained, mostly near the back of the bottom shelves, likely out of sight from the looters who swiped the majority of the nonperishable items. He turned to the right and checked the next isle. Nothing. Finally, after checking every isle without any incident, he made his way back to the front door.

  “It’s all clear,” he said. “Let’s
make this quick, though.”

  Clark entered the store again and heard three other pairs of feet moving through the isles. “Grab whatever you can. We can sift through things once we make it back to the woods.”

  “Shouldn’t we stay here for the night?” Charles asked.

  “I don’t think we should be near a town over night,” Clark said. “The army has a lot of scouts roaming about, looking for rebels who are camping out in structures like this. Our best bet is to hunker down in the woods. They won’t be able to find us as easily there, and we can hear them coming if they bother searching the woods in the middle of the night.”

  Clark walked around the back of the counter and grabbed a few items that were missed by looters. A pack of matches. A rusty can opener. A few packages of beef jerky. Under the counter, hidden behind a pile of dusty shopping bags, he found a battery-powered CB radio.

  “Charles,” Clark said. “Do you know what channels are hot these days?”

  “Channel 9 is active, but that’s been infiltrated by Imperials. Channel 19 is a safer bet.”

  Clark switched to channel 19 and waited. “We’ll take this with us,” he said. “We’ll broadcast along the way.”

  “That model might get a half dozen mile range,” Charles said. “Not too shabby.”

  Clark walked to the front door and looked around one last time. “Let’s go,” he said. “There’s nothing else here we can use.”

  Clark led the way out of the store. Down the ruined street, he saw the sun nearing the horizon. He knew they had to make it back to the woods and find a place to camp out before the sun set. The forest would be pitch black soon enough.

  Their feet clapped against the macadam as they went. Clark looked to and fro, his rifle at the ready for anyone who tried to harm them. But nobody was there. The town appeared to be completely desolate.