Life After: Episode 4 (A Serial Novel) Read online

  Life After

  Episode 4

  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 © 2013 by JJ Holden

  jjholdenbooks.blogspot.com

  Kindle 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 Amazon.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 looked at Charles and saw the fear in his eyes. With Wesley’s pistol now pressed against the back of his head, there was nothing he could do. Clark knew the old man’s life dangled by a thread gripped tightly by the hand of an Imperialist. He knew that Wesley didn’t care about the old man, nor about the others. Wesley only wanted Clark alive to use him as a means to find the rebel base in order to expose it to the government.

  “Okay,” Clark said. “I’ll lead you to there as long as you spare them.”

  Clark waited as Wesley considered the offer.

  “Lay your weapon on the ground, Clark,” Wesley said. “Slowly.”

  Clark placed his rifle on the ground.

  Wesley gripped his gun tighter. “Now join the others.”

  Clark grabbed the hand of the woman he rescued from the concentration camp and walked towards the boys.

  “Just know that I won’t feed them,” Wesley said. “I won’t give any of them a single bite of my food.”

  Clark didn’t want to push their luck by attempting to compromise with Wesley. He knew it wouldn’t do them any good. All he could do was lead him down south to the base and think of a plan along the way. To allow Wesley to expose the base would be a major setback for the rebels, so he knew that his promise to take him there would merely buy him time to think of a way to turn the tables and reassume control.

  “Start walking,” Wesley said to the group. He crouched down at picked up Clark’s rifle.

  The group walked ahead of the madman who now had the rifle pointing at them. Clark looked back and saw Wesley’s wicked smile as he stared at the woman.

  “Turn around,” Wesley barked.

  Clark did as instructed. He looked ahead into the forest and heard their footsteps on the twig-littered ground accompanied by Wesley’s heavy breathing behind them.

  “What’s your name, sweetheart?” Wesley asked the woman, who by now was barely able to walk from lack of sustenance.

  The woman continued to walk and did not answer.

  “Are you deaf?” Wesley asked. “Tell me your name now!”

  She spoke with a firm voice. “Rebecca.”

  Clark watched Rebecca out of the corner of his eye. He knew she had to be strong for what she survived so far on her horrendous journey. He saw her long brown hair that offset her pale skin, covered with spots of dirt and blood. Though blood dripped from the back of her legs as she walked, she did not slow her pace. She grimaced with every dozen or so steps, but made no other indication that she was in pain.

  “If you play your cards right, Rebecca,” Wesley said, “I’ll give you something to eat.”

  Clark shook his head. Filthy pig, he thought. Downright rotten pig.

  The group walked until they saw a clearing. The wind picked up slightly and whipped through the trees. Clark stood at the tree line and looked out at the large concrete-covered valley below to view something he hadn’t seen in a long time: a department store. The sprawling parking lot was littered with several abandoned cars, though no living soul could be seen.

  Clark turned around to look at Wesley. “Maybe we should go check it out.” Clark said. “We could use another break.”

  Wesley aimed the rifle at Clark and smiled. “I should kill you right now for saying such things. We do what I say, and I say we need to keep walking.”

  Clark put his hands up in the air. “If you want to kill an unarmed man like the coward that you are, then do it.”

  “Maybe I’ll just kill one of them first…”

  Clark stepped closer to Wesley and heard the others back away and move behind him. “You’ll have to get through me first, Wesley. As long as I’m alive, I won’t let you lay a finger on them.”

  Wesley stepped closer, keeping his aim. “Have you lost your mind, Clark?”

  Clark kept his hands raised. “Not as much as you lost yours.”

  * * *

  Owen hastened his pace as he passed by the concentration camp. He heard gunfire and screaming from the terrorized inmates. Good riddance, he thought.

  With his gun slung over his shoulder, he ran through the forest until he saw him, an Imperial soldier at the mercy of three adult rebels, likely the same rebels that ambushed the troops he saw earlier that day. With the rebels were two boys. He’d save them for last.

  “Finally,” he muttered. He hid behind the brush and took aim. For a moment, he wondered why only one rebel had a gun, but then he realized that it looked like a government-issued rifle that likely belonged to the Imperial soldier who kept his hands raised into the air. He knew the unarmed rebels would be easy targets. He couldn’t wait to finish them off, one by one.

  Owen took a deep breath as he continued to aim at the blond-haired rebel’s skull. When he exhaled, he would squeeze off his first shot and the hunt would be underway.

  * * *

  Rebecca stared at the back of Clark’s head. She shuttered every time she realized he wore the uniform that represented the regime that took everything from her. She thought of her mother, who died en route to the concentration camp from which she escaped. Her younger brother didn’t make it past selection, since he looked under twelve and therefore not fit for hard labor. Since she was nineteen and athletic, she was selected to work at the camp until her usefulness had been depleted. After a month in the camp and living off of half the caloric intake she was used to, she wasn’t working as fast or hard as the most recent inmates and condemned to death by firing squad.

  She stepped back slowly towards the edge where the steep decline began, ready to run for it. Ready to escape another precarious situation. Her heart raced as she waited for something to happen…anything.

  Then she heard the loud crack of a gun. She felt the old man grab onto her arm and pull her as he ran down the hill. The boys were by their side as they raced through the high grass and weeds that seemed to exist only to slow their pace. She felt the strain in her legs as she ran past a few cars in the parking lot towards the large building. She thought of the man who had saved her and his ultimate fate. The raging lunatic who killed him was now on the hunt for them.

  But then she saw him to her right.

  “Clark!”

  Clark turned and looked at her, but did not speak. A single gunshot rang out from behind them. Rebecca ran even faster when she heard the window of a nearby car shatter moments before another shot rang out.

  Then she heard Tyler scream. Rebecca stopped abruptly when she saw the boy hit the ground. There he lay, in an open space between two cars, holding his leg.

  Clark ran over to Tyler, crouche
d down, and picked up the boy. Blood flowed from a wound on the boy’s leg, but there was no time to wait. They had to get around the side of the building, out of sight from whoever was shooting at them.

  One more shot was fired before they reached the side, though nobody was hit. It was almost as if the person firing was taunting them.

  “Check the doors,” Clark said.

  Rebecca saw him stop to check one of the metal doors and she ran to the next one to do the same. She turned the knob only to find it was locked. She heard Clark’s boots on the blacktop as he raced towards a loading dock.

  “Over here,” Clark said.

  Rebecca heard Tyler moan in agony as she followed Clark up the steps to the loading dock. She felt Thomas nearly run into her as he and Charles made it to the top of the steps.

  Near the building, Rebecca saw Clark lay Tyler down near the bay doors where inventory was unloaded from trucks in happier times. One door was raised about a foot and a half from the ground, enough space to allow them to enter the building.

  Rebecca pulled off a piece of her ragged clothing and wrapped it around Tyler’s leg, tying it tight in order to stop the bleeding. “I’ll take care of him,” she said.

  Clark went under the door first and within seconds, called for them. “Hurry!”

  They helped Tyler get under the door as Thomas slipped under a few feet away with little trouble. Rebecca hoped it would be as easy for her. She laid on her back with her head facing the door and felt the concrete pull her shirt up slightly as she pressed her heels against the pavement. She reached her hands under the door and felt someone grab them, pulling her slowly into the dim room.

  Clark spoke softly. “Charles?”

  Rebecca saw the old man’s head as he worked his way to the other side. Once they helped Charles inside, the group moved slowly away from the door. The sunlight that shown in through the gap in the bay door was enough to allow them to see outlines of large boxes. As she backed away from the door, she saw a shadow move along the bottom of the door and stop near the middle. She turned around and saw Clark waving for her to come towards him.

  “Get down behind one of these boxes,” he whispered.

  “Are you okay, Tyler?” Thomas asked quietly.

  Tyler grimaced as he held his leg. “I…I don’t know.”

  “Quiet you two,” Rebecca said, sitting down next to Clark and the boys. She poked her head out just enough to see the shadow at the door. As the shadow moved, she heard the sound of boots clap against the pavement.

  They sat and waited in silence. Rebecca held her breath and waited, each second feeling like a minute as the shadow moved almost in slow motion across the bay door. She closed her eyes and hoped that when she opened them, everything would go back to normal. She wished it was all one big nightmare. When she opened her eyes she was still in the dim room and the figure was still there. Perhaps they know we are here and want to taunt us, she thought. Perhaps they are waiting and listening, hoping to hear any noise we make. Any indication of life and they would pounce. So she sat completely still, closed her eyes, and prayed.

  * * *

  Owen stood at the bay door. He knew they were inside, likely waiting to attack him if he dared enter. He looked down at the blood on the pavement and thought of the boy he shot. The boy was an easy target, and he figured it would be a way to get the attention of the old man and the woman. He recalled watching the Imperial soldier help the boy up and rush him to safety. So flabbergasted by why a soldier would defect to join the rebel cause, he delayed his last shot before they ran out of sight. Looking on the brighter side, he thought of the opportunity he had before him. Five unarmed terrorists to hunt down in the confines of a department store. He salivated at the thought. He got enough pleasure out of hunting them in the wilderness, but now, here they were, caged up and ready to die. From afar, he would have been able to kill at least one or two of them, but now he looked forward to killing all five up close, able to see the fear in their eyes seconds before he destroyed them. He couldn’t wait to enact retribution for all the terror they caused his countrymen.

  He recalled the day before and how desperate he was to find a rebel to kill. When he first started hunting down enemy combatants, it was just another part of his job description. Now, vengeance was not just his duty, it was his passion.

  “Stand here and guard these doors,” Owen said loudly. “I doubt they slipped in there, but you never know.”

  He walked along the door until he reached a small flight of steps. “I’ll check the other doors and loop around and let you know if I find any of the doors unlocked,” he said.

  Owen gripped his rifle as he descended the steps and rushed to the front of the building. In short order, he was at the main entrance to the store. He stepped closer to the doors as he spoke under his breath: “Prepare to die.”

  * * *

  Clark felt his heart pounding as the man outside the door spoke to his comrade. He knew they couldn’t leave the same way they entered, not until the men left. He figured they might be better off going out a different way.

  “I’ll go check out the store,” Clark said in a whisper. “Stay here and watch that door.”

  Rebecca stood up. “I’m going with you.”

  “It’s better if I go alone.”

  As he turned around, he could hear Tyler’s muffled sobbing and Charles consoling him. “It’s going to be okay. Don’t worry.”

  Was it ever going to be okay? Clark thought. There were plenty of things to worry about.

  He stepped away from the group and towards a door at the end of the large stock room. The door was barely visible since the only light was coming from the beneath the door. He could see outlines of boxes as he went. He opened the door and entered the back section of the store.

  Looking up, he saw rays of sunshine pour through the numerous skylights situated on the high ceiling of the department store. He scanned the area in which he stood and saw that he was in the sporting goods section. He walked down one of the isles and saw baseball supplies scattered on the floor. He bent over and picked up a metal baseball bat. Gripping it tightly between both hands, he continued down the isle, listening for any movement in the surrounding area.

  Then he heard a loud bang towards the front of the store. Standing in the middle of an isle, he had two options: go back to the stock room, or hunt the person who was hunting them.

  He chose the latter. He stepped down the isle in the direction from which the sound came. He heard the occasional sound of glass crunching under his boots as he went. Then he heard footsteps in the next isle. He stood frozen for a few seconds, contemplating his next move. He listened to the footsteps as they went towards the stock room. He rushed to the end of the isle and turned left, taking three steps until he was at the edge of the next isle. Peering out, he saw an Imperial soldier holding a rifle walking away from where he stood.

  He knew that this man inadvertently saved his life by killing Wesley. The horrid uniform Clark wore indeed saved his life, but it wouldn’t save the lives of the others. If he didn’t stop this man from discovering them, then they would die.

  He looked down and saw a baseball on the ground. He picked it up and threw it towards the front of the store. The ball crashed into something and startled the Imperial soldier who was almost near the back of store.

  Clark pulled back before the man turned around. He heard his footsteps grow closer as he stepped backward to conceal himself in the next isle. He peered out and saw the soldier exit the isle and walk towards the front of the store. He crept behind the man and lifted his baseball bat.

  The soldier scanned to his right and left, but did not hear Clark behind him, nor did he bother to turn around.

  Closer.

  Clark raised the bat as his heart pounded.

  Closer.

  He readied the bat and held his breath.

  Five steps away.

  Before Clark could swing the bat, the man stopped abruptly and slammed the bu
tt end of his rifle into Clark’s chest.

  Clark fell backward and heard his bat hit the linoleum floor below. Before he could gain his equilibrium, the man sweep-kicked Clark, causing him to lose his footing and tumble to the ground, hitting the back of his head on the cold, hard floor.

  Everything went black for a moment, but in a few seconds, Clark opened his eyes and saw the man standing above him.

  “You know,” the man said, “I could just shoot you in the head and kill you instantly, but then you wouldn’t suffer…”

  Clark tried to move, but the man kicked him in the side.

  “I want you to feel the pain you caused our country by being a traitor.”

  He kicked Clark a second time before aiming his gun at Clark’s stomach.

  Clark anticipated the horrible pain of a bullet ripping through his abdomen. We winced when he heard a loud thud come from behind the man’s head. He looked in amazement at the man, whose eyes rolled up into his head as he dropped his gun and fell towards Clark.

  Clark rolled to his left to avoid being hit by the man’s body. He looked up and saw Rebecca standing over him, baseball bat in hand. “Now we’re even,” she said.

  Rebecca reached down and grabbed Clark’s hand, helping him up. He stood over the soldier and saw a small stream of blood move slowly across the ground.

  “Nice work,” he said to Rebecca. He bent down and picked up the rifle. Hesitantly, he placed his hand on the man’s neck to check for a pulse, but none could be felt.

  He searched the body and found over a dozen food bars, a straw water filtration device, and a few more rounds for the rifle. He rose and scanned his surroundings. The utter silence in the store was enough to convince him that they were alone. Still, he listened intently for footsteps, but none could be heard.

  “Let’s get back to the others,” Rebecca said.