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  Desolation 5: Night Before Dawn

  Copyright © 2021 David Lucin

  www.authordavidlucin.com

  All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission from the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.

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

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, bands, and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  ISBN: 978-1-990246-01-2

  Cover art by Covers by Christian

  Cover typography by Deranged Doctor Design

  Table of Contents

  Mailing List

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Ground Zero: A Desolation Novella

  Afterword

  About the Author

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  www.authordavidlucin.com

  1

  Jenn despised funerals.

  With his spade, Gary tamped down a patch of earth in the Ruiz family’s backyard. Snow clung to the naked branches of the trees lining the fence, and long icicles hung from the eaves of the house. The ground froze solid nearly three months ago, sometime in early November, so to dig a hole just two feet deep, Gary had to thaw it with a fire, followed by a bucket of warm water. It was worth the effort, though. Ajax deserved a peaceful place to rest.

  Maria, bundled up in her boots and neon-green winter jacket, removed one of her mittens and reached beneath her glasses to wipe a tear from her eye.

  “He was a good cat,” Jenn said, wearing her parka-style coat, fake fur rimming the hood. “Kept me up all night by sleeping on my feet, but I’ll miss that about him. My own little foot warmer.”

  A sad laugh passed between Maria’s lips. “He did that with Camila, too. Whoever slept in that room, he just fell in love with them.”

  Jenn smiled behind the cloth mask over her mouth and nose. New River flu had come to Flagstaff, and dozens were infected each day. A recent outbreak among the Militia had convinced her and Sam to move out of the Ruiz house and into the barracks at HQ. That way, they’d have less contact with Gary and Maria and be less likely to spread the disease if they unknowingly contracted it. She hated living apart from them, and hated living with a hundred Militia troops even more, but she’d hate herself if she got Maria sick.

  Fortunately, according to Nicole, the virus had a short incubation period, usually about a day, which meant contagious people almost always showed symptoms. Jenn wasn’t ill, nor did she have a fever, the surest sign of infection. Neither did Sam, but whenever they visited, they wore masks anyway. Hers made her mouth itch, and it smelled like an old shirt, probably because it began life as, well, an old shirt. Yet she’d wear one forever if necessary, although her skin would prefer if she didn’t; she’d had more zits in the past few months than at any time since she finished puberty.

  “How old was he?” Sam asked.

  Gary planted the blade of his shovel in the ground and folded his arms atop the handle. “Thirteen, I believe. Isn’t that right, dear?”

  “Fourteen. We got him when Camila was nine. She hadn’t shown any interest in pets until another girl in her class got a kitten for Christmas. Then it was all she could talk about. We were afraid we’d get one and she’d play with it for a few weeks and that would be it, but she and Ajax became best friends. She even cleaned his litter box.” Maria laughed again, now with a little less sadness. “Imagine that, a nine-year-old cleaning a litter box. Might be the first time in history that ever happened.”

  “He had a good life,” Jenn said. “Don’t cats only live until like eighteen?”

  “If they’re lucky.”

  “See? Fourteen’s a solid run.”

  They’d concluded that Ajax ultimately died of kidney failure. According to Beau Davis, one of Quinn’s grunts and a student at NAU’s veterinary school, cats older than ten were susceptible to a variety of kidney-related health issues. Not eating a proper diet, Beau figured, had likely aggravated an existing condition in Ajax, resulting in rapid weight loss and eventually death. A horrible way to go. Jenn had desperately wanted to help the poor thing or give him some comfort in his final days, but he refused to leave the closet.

  Gary crossed the yard to join his wife. Maria took his hand, and the four of them stood in a line, staring at the break in the snow where Ajax now lay. Her oxygen compressor hummed melodically, and Sam sniffed. The sun, as always, burned bloodred behind the sheen of smoke in the stratosphere. With every passing month, a normal yellow sun became harder and harder to imagine.

  “I just don’t understand.” There was an edge to Maria’s voice. “You’d think he’d be less picky and start eating whatever we gave him instead of letting himself waste away.” The edge sharpened. “People eating cat food. Can you believe it?”

  When food supplies reached critical levels, anything edible became fair game, pet food included. Jenn understood Maria’s frustration, but adding pet food to the town’s rations had been the right call. She only wished it had lasted long enough for Ajax to survive the winter.

  Maria wiped another tear from her eye, and her voice softened. “We should have done more. We—”

  “It’s not your fault.” Jenn put a hand on Maria’s arm. “We were already giving him most of our protein rations by the end. There was just nothing left.”

  “Maybe we could have tried force-feeding him.”

  “It wouldn’t have worked.” Jenn had no idea if force-feeding Ajax cornmeal and potatoes would have helped him survive, but she recalled Bryce’s lessons on the stages of grief after Val’s death. Maria had reached the bargaining stage, so in order to move on, she needed to hear that she’d done everything possible to save Ajax’s life. “He could have just thrown it up. And who knows if you’d even be able to get food into him? That one time Gary had to give him a pill didn’t go so well. You remember, Gary? When you tried opening his mouth, he freaked out and scratched your face.”

  Gary winced and ran his fingers across his jawline. “Yes, he certainly didn’t like that much, did he?”

  “You two always got into it with each other,” Jenn said. “Like a week after I first moved in, you stepped on his tail in the kitchen. Then you found a pile of puke on your pillow before bed.”

  “You had the strangest relationship,” Maria agreed. “You’d be at each other’s throat
s but then have a nap together.”

  Jenn slapped her thigh. “That’s right! I would always come home from class and catch you lying on the couch with Ajax on your chest, both of you dead asleep.”

  Gary grumbled something inaudible. He would deny it until his last breath, but he loved that cat and would miss him greatly. Aside from Larry, a Siamese fighting fish Jenn brilliantly named when she was eight, the Jansens didn’t have pets. Ajax, then, in a way, was her first, and his death left a gaping hole in her heart. She could only imagine how Gary and Maria must feel. For them, Ajax had formed an important link to Camila; through him, they remembered her. Losing him meant losing another piece of their daughter.

  They stood in silence for a while. The crisp air, smelling faintly of excrement from the rickety wooden outhouse in the corner of the yard, bit at Jenn’s exposed skin. She zipped up her jacket as far as it would go. Normally, winters in Flagstaff, while colder than those in Phoenix, saw temperatures routinely rise above freezing. Rarely did snow stay on the ground for more than a week at a time. This year, it hadn’t melted since October. A desert girl through and through, Jenn felt like she’d moved to Antarctica—or that Antarctica had moved here. How on Earth did people in Canada and the Midwest deal with this weather on an annual basis? She merely tolerated it during the school year and made a point of whining whenever Sam took her snowshoeing out by Lake Mary.

  “Okay,” Maria finally said. “I’m getting cold. Should we go back in?”

  “Good idea.” Gary slid open the patio door, which he’d covered with towels to improve insulation. “You guys head on in while I mark the grave with some bricks from the shed.”

  Maria made to step inside but paused when Jenn hesitated to follow her. “Do you want to come say hi to everyone? I’m sure a quick visit will be okay.”

  It would be, especially with Sam and Jenn wearing their masks, but the flu, for all its negatives, sometimes came in handy. Today, it was the perfect excuse not to see Barbara. Jenn had learned to love Sam’s mother, but that didn’t mean she had to like her. The woman hadn’t even bothered paying her respects to Ajax. “No, I don’t think we should. You know what Nicole said: the virus spreads a lot easier inside, where everyone’s breathing the same air. Plus, with Freddie sick, I don’t know if—”

  “Jenn!”

  The voice, high and screeching, grated on Jenn’s nerves.

  “You weren’t going to leave without saying goodbye, were you?” Barbara asked.

  Cringing, Jenn nearly spat, You could at least come out here and show your support to the people who put you up! But she bit her tongue and reined herself in. A fight with Barbara would accomplish nothing, only rile them up and ruin their day. Actually, Jenn shouldn’t complain; had Barbara been here for the funeral, she would have made herself, not Ajax, the center of attention.

  “Hi, Barbara.” She tried to infuse some enthusiasm into the words, but they came out flat.

  Barbara stormed outside, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, her feet in fuzzy slippers, hair done up in an elaborate bun like she was ready for a party. Her gaunt, almost skeletal cheeks made her look ten years older and ten years younger all at once, but Jenn shouldn’t judge. The last time she saw herself in a mirror, she hardly recognized the woman staring back: all skin and bones and sinewy tendon. By some miracle, Sam still found her attractive.

  After shutting the patio door, Barbara made a grasping motion with her arms. “I know you don’t like hugging right now, so pretend hugs all around.”

  Jenn couldn’t help but find that endearing. Sam’s mother was many things, but she was far from careless about New River flu. One of her few redeeming qualities. Trying on a polite smile, Jenn mechanically returned the air hug.

  In almost a squeal, Barbara said to her, “You know the deal. Whenever you stop by, you have to let me see your ring.”

  Jenn looked at Sam, not really knowing why. Hoping he’d rush to her rescue, maybe, but his smirk stretched wide. The little weasel was enjoying this.

  “Yes, Jenn,” Maria said, playing along. “Let’s see the ring again.”

  “Fine.” Jenn pulled off her glove, revealing the ring Sam gave her in November, an oval sapphire on a rose-gold band. She’d always pictured her engagement ring as a diamond, like her mother’s before she sold it to pay for a medical bill, but now she couldn’t see herself wearing anything else. It was perfect.

  Barbara leaned in close, her nose only a few inches from Jenn’s hand. “Gorgeous. Who knew my son had such good taste?”

  “Something tells me he had some help.” Jenn winked at him and shot a glance toward Maria.

  Maria cast her eyes downward suspiciously. “Don’t look at me! Nicole had just as much input as I did.”

  “It’s true,” Sam said. “I’ll be the first to admit I know nothing about wedding rings, but I like to think I’m smart enough to ask for an expert opinion. It wasn’t easy to find that, either, by the way. You wouldn’t believe—”

  Jenn threw back her head and let out an exaggerated groan. “Yes, we know. All the extra hours you had to work for Ed so he could trade for this.” She poked him in the side. “We’ve heard this story like a million times.”

  He shrugged with one shoulder. “I’m just saying.”

  “I know.” She stood on her toes to kiss him but remembered their masks, so she settled with a pat to his backside instead.

  “Are you sure you want to have the wedding in spring?” Barbara asked. “It seems so far away.”

  Jenn and Sam had decided to wait until the snow melted before they officially tied the knot. She didn’t even know what “officially” meant anymore. No state or federal governments existed to document their union, but Edward Beaumont, a certified wedding officiant, had kindly offered to carry out the ceremony anyway. While Jenn would marry Sam today, without a second of hesitation, a spring wedding gave everyone—especially her—something to look forward to. These days, in the depths of winter, with the food all but gone and New River flu pulling her away from her family, she needed a light at the end of the tunnel.

  “Mom,” Sam said sternly. “We’ve been over this.”

  Barbara held up her hands. “I know, I know. I just can’t wait that long.” She bounced excitedly on her toes. “My son is getting married!” Tears filled her eyes, and one slipped free, sliding down her rosy cheek. “And the sooner you get married, the sooner you can get to work on giving me some grandchildren.”

  “God, Mom . . .” Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head.

  Maria giggled and put a hand over her mouth. Gary had finished marking Ajax’s grave with a pyramid of red bricks and now watched the spectacle from the far side of the yard. Jenn swore he’d perked up at the word “grandchildren.” The idea of having a family with Sam excited her, yet she couldn’t fathom bringing a new life into this nightmare. Flagstaff had a long way to go before she’d feel comfortable having children of her own. Not to mention her age—she would only turn twenty-one next month. Was she ready for the responsibility of motherhood? Not long ago, she couldn’t even bring herself to attend class on a consistent basis. Leading a squad had changed her for the better, and some days, keeping her grunts in line felt a lot like parenting, but raising a child seemed so much more daunting, so much more intense.

  “Yeah, Sam.” Jenn sensually ran her hands along the front of his jacket. He squirmed, clearly uncomfortable, so she laid it on thick: “I hear the Militia has a great maternity leave package.”

  Gary cleared his throat and awkwardly scratched his scalp.

  “What’s wrong, Gary?” she asked. “Like the idea of grandchildren but not the idea of me making grandchildren?”

  “That’s correct.” Carrying his shovel, he began trudging around the side of the house. “Sam, can I get your help moving some firewood from the garage?”

  “Sure thing, Mr. Ruiz.” And then, to his mother, “I’ll come say bye before we head back.”

  Barbara withdrew into
the house while Sam followed Gary out front to the garage.

  “I know she can be a bit overwhelming,” Maria said when she and Jenn were alone in the backyard, “but you and Sam make Barbara so happy. I think she needed that boost. Ever since you got engaged, she’s been feeling so much better. Very chipper.”

  And very annoying. “It’s no problem. I’ll happily let her smother me if it means she’s not depressed anymore, but it’d be nice if Nicole wasn’t staying at the field hospital on campus all the time. We could share the burden that way.”

  “She adores you. It’s kind of cute.”

  Jenn sneered, recalling when she first met Barbara in the cabin’s garage in Payson. The air had stunk of urine and feces, and Barbara had implied Jenn couldn’t safely handle a weapon, demanding she turn the Glock over to Kevin. “Yes,” she said with a heavy dose of sarcasm, “our relationship’s just blossomed.”

  “Getting along with your mother-in-law is a very important skill.” Maria lowered her voice: “If you ever need any tips, you let me know. Gary’s mother hated me when we first started dating, but she loved me in the end.”

  “Really? I can’t imagine anyone hating you.”

  “If only you knew me when I was your age, sweetie.” She peeked at Ajax’s grave. “Thanks for coming today. It means a lot. I know it’s hard for you to get away.”

  Jenn adjusted the elastic band around her ear. “Not that hard. All we had this morning was mortar training with Sergeant Murphy. He wants everyone to know how to use them.”

  “Mortars? Are those what Edward Beaumont was helping build for the Militia?”

  “Yeah, the National Guard had a whole bunch of 81mm rounds, but their old major took the tubes when he deserted after the coup, so Ed welded together some makeshift ones. They look bush league, but apparently they work. I’d still prefer if I wasn’t right next to one when it goes off, though.”

  “I would also prefer that.” Maria gripped the rubber handle of her oxygen compressor’s cart. “Are you all ready for tomorrow?”

  A prickle of angst drew Jenn out of the moment. For a blissful hour here at the Ruiz house, she’d forgotten that at 7:00 a.m., she and three squads of First Platoon would leave for Window Rock, the capital of the Navajo Nation, as an escort to a trading mission, the sixth since October. The team would drive out, help the Navajo unload, spend the night, and then return the following morning. It was all fairly routine, and no mission had faced anything more serious than a flat tire or an unexpected snowstorm, but she’d learned to presume the worst-case scenario. If she had a choice, she’d stay home, but then again, she didn’t volunteer for the Militia to lounge around the barracks all day. If she’d wanted a safe, boring job, she would have stayed on at the Beaumont farm, which hadn’t had a single trespasser in months. “Yeah, we’re packed up and ready to go. Boxes and boxes full of potatoes and corn. And like eight barrel stoves.”