S Ison - Russian Doomsday

He came to when he heard knocking on his window. He looked up for a moment. A man standing there at the window. He was knocking, but Harley didn’t know why. He tried to focus, but his face hurt so bad. His vision began to turn black around the edges, then went completely dark.

He wasn’t sure what woke him later. It was dark out, rain coming down in torrents. Lightning flashed, the brilliant light sending pain shooting into his brain. His ears rang as though he’d just come from a concert. He unbuckled the seat belt and laid his body across the seat. His face throbbed with each heartbeat. In the brief flash he’d seen the cars around him, stopped. He didn’t understand, but he wasn’t getting out into that driving rain.

He slept fitfully through the night, coming awake whenever he moved his head. I must have broken my nose. Why didn’t the airbag deploy? He fell back to sleep as the rain lessened. He wasn’t sure what woke him, but when he opened his eyes it was somewhat light out. He sat up and immediately regretted it. He tried to open his door, but it wouldn’t open, so he vomited on the passenger’s side floor.

He brought a shaking hand up to his mouth to wipe the foulness off, then reached for his water bottle and took a drink. He nearly heaved it up, but kept swallowing. He swallowed and swallowed. He took another mouthful and swished it around in his mouth, then spat it on the floor.

His head was hurting and his ears were ringing. He turned to the door and tried to open it, but it was locked. He clicked the button, but nothing happened. He thought about hitting it with his weapon, the FN Herstal, but thought better of it. He looked around in the car and saw a wrench on the back floorboard. The kids must have been playing in his tools again. He smiled.

He grabbed it and scooted away from his window. Covered his face, careful of his nose, he shattered the glass with a sharp swing. He took the wrench and raked it across the bottom of the window so he wouldn’t get cut crawling out. He opened the glovebox, pulled out the box of bullets he kept there and put them in his coat pocket.

Taking the weapon from its shoulder holster, he checked it and put it back. He took another drink of water, then crawled out of the window. He nearly stepped on a man lying on the ground next to his car. He put a leg over the body and his foot found the ground. He eased his other leg out, hit the man by accident, and heard a groan.

Squatting down, he turned the man, who groaned again. The man had blood coming out of his ears and eyes. He jerked his hand back. The man’s face was covered with blisters.

Harley looked up and around him. Some of the store fronts around him had broken windows. What the hell happened last night?

Gingerly he stood, his shaky legs barely holding him up. The ringing in his ears and the throbbing in his head made him nauseated. He bent over and vomited again. He gripped his knees as his body spasmed. When he had finished, he stood up. Ahead of him was a woman, and he began walking toward her. His legs felt like jelly and he wanted to call out to her, but when he tried to, his throat hurt like it had been burned raw. When he reached her, he put his hand on her arm to turn her and get her attention. When she turned, he screamed, a long and soundless scream. The woman’s face was covered with yellow blisters, all filled with liquid. Her eyes were gone, blood trickling out where they had once been.

He staggered backward and fell onto the sidewalk. Landing hard, he vomited over and over between his legs, heavy ropes of saliva hanging from his mouth. His body jerked and tried to vomit more, but there was nothing left. Tears fell down his cheeks and he watched the woman wander off, whimpering.

This had been no earthquake. This was something else. A bomb. Something some other country had done to them. North Korea? He fought to stand, his legs weak. He turned, remembering his bugout bag, but when he saw his car, he realized the back end had been crushed in. There was no way he could get to it. looking around, he spotted a convenience store. He crossed the street.

By the curb lay a woman in a pool of blood and rain water. Bubbles were coming up from around her face, which was submerged in the red pool. He gently tried to turn her over so she wouldn’t drown. But when he tried, the skin and meat of her face stuck to the pavement and he saw her skull underneath. He gagged and laid her back down to drown. He figured he was doing her a favor by letting her die.

He looked at his hands and saw small blisters beginning to develop. His hands went up to his own face, where he felt the beginnings of painful blistering. Radiation sickness. I’ve got radiation sickness. Someone dropped a nuclear bomb . He staggered away from the woman and went in to the convenience store.

Looking around, he saw no one. He went to the drinks section and pulled out several bottles of water. He opened one and felt some of the skin on his fingers give. He looked down and almost screamed. Blood smeared the bottle cap. His fingers looked raw. He pulled out his shirttail and tried again. Finally the bottle opened.

He drank, then staggered over to the medicine aisle. He got a box of pain relievers and carefully opened the box and bottle, mindful of his fingers. He gulped down three tablets with water. Then he stood, panting. Looking around, he went to the register and yanked up several plastic bags. He then went over and started putting food into the bags.

Returning to the refrigerators, he picked out several sports drinks to help replace what he had vomited.

He felt his gut twist and wanted to vomit again. He went back to the medicine aisle and got a bottle of pink Pepto. He breathed heavily, his heart thumping wildly in his chest.

He had to get home. He had to get back to Christy and the boys. With several bags of food and medicine, as well as drinks, Harley left the store. His legs felt like rubber. He stopped in front of the glass window and saw his reflection. His hair wild, he had blood all down his face and his shirt. He looked like something out of a horror movie.

He saw a body up by the edge of the building. He didn’t go near it. He didn’t want to see. Tears fell down his face and he put one unsteady foot in front of the other. I have to get home, I have to get home. I can’t leave Christy and the boys. They’ll never know what happened to me. I have to be with them, I have to see my babies.

He was far from home and didn’t know how long it would take him, but he knew he had to get there. There was no question. He couldn’t let this end him. He couldn’t let this stop him from being with his family. He only prayed that they were alive and okay. Please God, let them be okay.

BLACK SOUL RISING

INOCULATION ZERO: WELCOME TO THE STONE AGE

BOOK ONE

INOCULATION ZERO: WELCOME TO THE AGE OF WAR

BOOK TWO

EMP: ANTEDILUVIAN PURGE

BOOK ONE

EMP: ANTEDILUVIAN FEAR

BOOK TWO

EMP PRIMEVAL

POSEIDON: RUBBLE AND ASH

BOOK TWO

EMP: ANTEDILUVIAN COURAGE

BOOK THREE

SHATTERED MIND

THE HIVE

SMOKEHOUSE SMILES

Dragon’s Fortune

Alaskan Heat

The Butler Did it

Little White Lies

The Seeding

POSEIDON Russian Doomsday

Copyright © 2018 by S.A. Ison All rights reserved.

Cover design by Elizabeth Mackey

Book edited by Laurel C. Kriegler of Kriegler Editing Services

All rights reserved. Except as under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a data base or retrieval system, without prior written permission of S.A. Ison