Seven Days: A Post-Apocalyptic Novel
Contents
Copyright
DEDICATION
QUOTE
BOOKS BY G. MICHAEL HOPF
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
EPILOGUE
ABOUT
SEVEN
DAYS
A POST-APOCALYTPIC NOVEL
G. MICHAEL HOPF
Copyright © 2019 G. Michael Hopf
No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
For information contact:
geoff@gmichaelhopf.com
www.gmichaelhopf.com
ISBN: 9781072694014
DEDICATION
TO SAVANNAH
QUOTE
“TO UNDERSTAND YOUR PARENTS’ LOVE, YOU MUST RAISE CHILDREN YOURSELF.” – CHINESE PROVERB
BOOKS BY G. MICHAEL HOPF
THE NEW WORLD SERIES
THE END
THE LONG ROAD
SANCTUARY
THE LINE OF DEPARTURE
BLOOD, SWEAT, AND TEARS
THE RAZOR'S EDGE
THOSE WHO REMAIN
THE WANDERER SERIES
VENGEANCE ROAD
BLOOD GOLD
TORN ALLEGIANCE
SERIES BOX SET
THE VAN ZANDT CHRONICLES
EXIT
NEMESIS
NEMESIS: INCEPTION
THE BOUNTY HUNTER SERIES
LAST RIDE
THE LOST ONES
PRAIRIE JUSTICE
SERIES BOX SET
OTHER APOCALYPTIC BOOKS
HOPE with A. American
DETOUR
DRIVER 8
DAY OF RECKONING
THE DEATH TRILOGY with John W. Vance
OTHER WESTERN BOOKS
THE LAWMAN
THE RETRIBUTION OF LEVI BASS
JUDGMENT DAY
RIGHTEOUS KILL
PROLOGUE
DELIVERANCE, OKLAHOMA
PRESENT DAY
When the pain came, it rushed through Evelyn’s body like an electrical surge, causing her muscles to tense and become rigid. She cried out; bloody tears streamed down her face. She glanced to Reid, her husband, and begged, “Promise me.”
Holding her hand tight, the rubber gloves of his protective suit separating the physical touch he desired, Reid asked, “What? What can I promise you?” Seeing her like this was almost too much to bear, but if there was ever a time for him to be strong and display it, that time was now. She had been going in and out of consciousness, and when she was awake, she tended to mumble or talk incoherently.
“Hannah,” Evelyn wailed as another surge of pain spread through her body.
“What about Hannah?” Reid asked, trying his hardest not to show emotion.
Evelyn gritted her teeth and, mustering all her strength to speak, said, “Protect her.”
“Of course, I’ll do anything…”
She reached out and grabbed his arm and drew him close. “Do anything. Do you hear me?”
He stared into her blood-soaked eyes, a symptom of the H5N7 virus, or the dog flu, as it was commonly known due to canines being the origin of the virus.
The dog flu had first appeared nine months before in Mexico and had spread across the globe rapidly. What first started as a virus similar to the swine flu was discovered to be more lethal to the host, as it killed eighty-seven percent of those infected within a week of showing the first signs. The severity of the virus at first brought world powers together, but that cooperation soon evaporated, and war broke out between China and the United States. Dealing with the virus was bad enough; now a world war had sent a chaotic world into turmoil. After six months of fighting, China was on its heels, with the United States bound for victory.
Reid wanted nothing more than to touch her skin and embrace her, but the thick layers of his protective suit prevented him from doing so.
Evelyn fell back onto the bed, her eyes rolled into her head, and she began to shudder.
“Evelyn?” Reid asked. He watched in horror as the shuddering turned into violent convulsing. Turning around, he cried out, “Help, please, someone help me!” But no one in the infirmary came. “Someone, please!” He felt her hand go limp. Looking back, he found her lying peacefully. Only the slight movement of her chest rising told him she was alive. “Eve?”
A woman in a soiled white protective suit, with the Red Cross emblem emblazoned on the chest, entered the room and said, “Mr. Flynn, it’s time.”
Reid looked up; he recognized her as a nurse he’d met before. “No, I was just talking to her,” he replied, his voice cracking with emotion.
Two men, also in protective suits, suddenly appeared in the doorway with a gurney.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Flynn, but you know the rules. It’s now time to take her away,” the nurse said.
“Please, maybe she’ll wake. I just want a bit more time with her,” Reid begged.
The nurse approached him and said, “You know the rules. This is what’s best for her and those of us in Deliverance.”
The men walked farther into the room. They paid no regard to Reid and positioned themselves at the head and foot of the bed.
“You can take her,” the nurse ordered them.
They gently transferred Evelyn’s limp body onto the gurney and wheeled her out of the room.
“What will happen now?” Reid asked.
“She will be taken below, where we’ll first administer a sedative, then—”
Interrupting her, he said, “I don’t want to know the details, just tell me it will be humane.”
“I can assure you she won’t feel any more pain,” the nurse said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, there are a few more patients for me to attend.”
“But are you sure she won’t recover? I did,” he said, reminding her that he too had contracted the dog flu and lived.
“Mr. Flynn, your symptoms never went this far, if you’ll recall,” the nurse said.
“When can I come to get her remains?” he asked.
“Tomorrow, late in the day, we’re backed up right now,” the nurse replied.
Hearing the words backed up gave him images of stacked bodies waiting to be processed. “Can I go now?” he asked.
“Of course, you know the procedures for decontamination. Please make sure you follow them to the letter,” she said and walked to the door. She stopped and said, “Mr. Flynn, consider yourself lucky, you’re immune.”
He thought about giving her a curt reply but decided to keep his interaction with her professional. How could anyone at this time think he was lucky? He’d just lost his wife, the mother of his only child. What future would Hannah have in this world? A future that now left her without her mother.
He somberly walked down the hectic hallway of the infirmary and into the decontamination room. He methodically went through the rigorous process and appeared on the other side wet and naked but clean and virus-free. He got dressed and exited the facility to find the midday sun high in the sky.
He stared into the cloudless blue sky and found it odd that on any other day he’d comment about how beautiful it was, but mustering words like that seemed impossible. He walked down the street towards the day care center. All he wanted now was to hold Hannah, who was six months old. He passed a café and caught a glimpse of the patrons huddled around a television. Curious, he stepped in
side to see what was so captivating.
On the television screen a reporter was frantically talking. “…that Washington, DC, and New York have been struck. We’re not hearing about other cities, but we can confirm—” The screen went out.
“What happened?” a woman howled in fear.
Reid didn’t need to see any more; he knew what had happened. He turned and walked out. It now seemed that not only had he lost his wife, but the world itself was on the verge of destroying itself completely. He rushed down the street, passing distraught townspeople, who were now getting the word that something horrible had just occurred back East.
He found himself in front of the day care and went inside the lobby, stopping at a locked glass door. Typically, a smiling face from behind a glass window would buzz him in, but no one was there, as they were all chattering to each other in the office, with one person attempting to find another television signal. He tapped on the glass window and said, “I’m here to get Hannah.”
A young woman, tears streaming down her face, turned towards him and hit a button. A buzzer sounded, unlocking the magnetic lock on the door.
He opened it and was instantly hit with the sounds of crying children. He went to the infants’ room and looked inside, expecting to see the young woman attendant, but she was nowhere to be found. “Hello?” he asked, stepping inside the room. Along the far wall stood seven bassinettes. He went to where he knew Hannah was and found her sleeping. So odd, he thought, that with such pain and turmoil around, she could be sleeping so peacefully. He picked her up and cradled her. Holding her close, he said, “How’s my baby girl?”
Hannah cooed and began to squirm.
“Daddy loves you,” he said softly.
She opened her blue eyes and stared at him. She reached out and touched his chin with her small hand.
“How’s my little girl today, huh? I just saw Mama and she loves you very much.”
Hannah opened her mouth and let out a squeal of excitement followed by more coos.
“That’s right, your mama loves you and will miss you terribly,” he said as tears began to well up in his eyes.
“Mama,” she uttered.
His mouth dropped open. She’d never said a word before until now, and how appropriate that it was mama. Tears streamed down his cheeks and dripped from his chin.
“Mama,” again she cried out.
“I love you so much. I’ll keep you safe. I’ll never let anything happen to you, do you understand?”
Hannah simply stared at him.
“Now, let’s take you home.”
CHAPTER ONE
DELIVERANCE, OKLAHOMA
NINE YEARS LATER
The man approached the gate, his arms held above his head with palms out. Upon seeing the walls of the town in the distance, he thought it a mirage at first, but as he drew closer, his hopes grew as high as his arms now were. “Help me, please!” he cried out to the guard posted in the tower, an AR-platform rifle in his hands. “I mean no harm. I’m looking for food.”
“Turn around. We don’t offer quarter here,” the guard ordered, his right eye peering through the red dot sight.
“Please, I need help. My wife, she’s back that way about a day’s walk. I ran out of food. Please spare some and I’ll go away,” the man begged.
The guard, a middle-aged man by the name of Ed, hadn’t encountered a wanderer in many months, but something about this man told him he wasn’t lying. “What do you offer in exchange for the food?”
The man removed his backpack, opened it and began to rummage. “Um, I have…let’s see, I can give you—”
“I don’t need anything from your pack, old man,” Ed said.
“Oh, um, I can offer you…ah, I have information if you want, news of the world and what’s happening,” the man said.
“What sort of information?” Ed shouted down from his perch.
The man fumbled through his tattered jacket and produced a folded envelope, its edges worn and frayed. “I’ve been collecting information and taking notes since I left Bend, Oregon, six years ago. I can offer news of what’s happening. You must want to know,” he cried out, waving the envelope with his hands.
Ed was curious about what was happening in the outside world, as were most of the townspeople in Deliverance. They were safe, secure, but ignorant of anything outside their walls minus rumors, and for good reason, no one was ever allowed to enter, and the few who left never returned. But who would change those strict rules? They were thriving, and no one wanted to be blamed for introducing the one thing or person who could destroy their peaceful hamlet.
Before the Great Plague and the war that followed, Deliverance had been an ordinary small town, like many in the Midwest. A single main street ran through the center of town, with blinking lights at either end warning travelers to slow down. Small retail shops, bars, restaurants and cafés populated the street frontage, with colorful signs and American flags posted along the streetlight posts. There was always some debate concerning why Deliverance had fared so well. Some said it was its size. It was small enough to wall off and manage access, and they’d be correct. Walling off a smaller town didn’t require a tremendous amount of resources, but that alone wasn’t the reason, as many towns similar to Deliverance had failed and collapsed. No, the real reason for its success was due to one man and the culture of survival he created, and his name was Darren Kincaid.
Kincaid had been the mayor of Deliverance at the time the Great Plague began to spread. He saw the potential for a societal collapse and took it upon himself to move aggressively to shield the town from the outside world. At first he encountered some resistance from those who thought his approach was too much. Those voices soon faded after the bombs dropped. Now, nine years since the last piece of the wall went into place, many in town were thankful for Kincaid and his vision.
The wall, though, was only the first step in Kincaid’s plan for survival. He quickly assembled the town into zones and gave every able-bodied person a job. From security, healthcare, education, infrastructure and food—everyone was given a task. It took some time for people to adjust, but soon everyone did their part and the town thrived. Even after the bombs were dropped and the threat of radioactive contamination spread, Kincaid had a plan. There wasn’t anything he didn’t think through and prepare the town to handle. It was as if he was built for the job.
While life behind the walls was safe, it was strict. Kincaid, with the help of the city council, implemented tough rules and laws, with the toughest and most enforced being access and how any infected would be handled. While some might describe his rules as mean, they were able to do so because he provided them the blanket of security from which to complain from. He ignored those few and enforced his rules and laws with effectiveness and fairness.
Travelers who came to their walls at first told of a world destroyed and unrecognizable from its previous incarnation. The major cities on the coasts had been decimated by nuclear weapons, with the interior cities and states suffering rampant starvation, civil unrest, and disease—not to mention the virus that started it all was still around.
The mayor sanctioned reconnaissance patrols to go out at first, but none ever returned. The last patrol had departed the gates four years ago; they were never seen again.
As more months and years ticked away, fewer and fewer travelers came to the gates requesting aid. The last group before the man now standing in front of Ed had been six months before. Like the others, they had been refused entry for fear of them being carriers or, worse, infected with the dog flu. The town of Deliverance wasn’t without mercy though; in exchange for any information, which they were hungry for, they’d give food and fresh water.
What the last group six months before had told them struck fear in the hearts and minds of the people of Deliverance. They told tales of wandering bands of cannibals to the east and warlords to the west. They mentioned only small pockets of survivors, like Deliverance, who also refused access to protect wh
at limited resources they had. One man in the last group told of an island off the coast of California where the government had developed a cure for the virus and had begun to rebuild. When pressed, he said he hadn’t seen it, but had heard rumors of its existence. The people of Deliverance found hope in that rumor but quickly dismissed it, with the mayor refusing to send anyone to find it.
“You’re willing to give us your notes in exchange for food and water?” Ed asked.
“Yes and no, is it possible for you to copy it? Giving it away leaves me with nothing of value,” the man replied.
Ed lowered his rifle, keyed a radio handset fastened to the top of his buttoned shirt, and said, “Base, this is gate two. I have a traveler; he has information that might be useful. Request assistance in accordance with protocol three.” Protocol three covered the rules for access, including giving aid in exchange for valuable information.
“This is base; we copy. We’ll send a team to perform protocol three,” the dispatch replied.
***
The midday sun felt good on Reid’s skin. He’d been awake since dawn, working in the garden, and for good reason, with winter coming in a short few months, he knew the importance of having enough food for those long, cold and dreary months ahead.
He dug his hand in the freshly tilled dirt and came out with a long squiggly worm on his finger. He sat back and admired the creature and the benefits it provided. With care, he dug a small hole, set the worm down, and covered it. Life was something to be appreciated. No one in the small community of Deliverance took it for granted, especially those who had lived through the Great Plague and the war that followed.
“Dad, tell me again about the ocean,” Hannah, now nine years old, asked.
He removed his hat, wiped his brow, and took notice of the fast-moving clouds above him. He hadn’t heard her question, his thoughts focused on the beauty surrounding them.
“Hello, Earth to Dad,” Hannah quipped as she pulled weeds from around the green bean plants.