Dark Days (Book 1): Collapse Read online

  COLLAPSE

  DARK DAYS: BOOK ONE

  A post-apocalyptic series by

  MARK LUKENS

  Collapse: Dark Days Book One—copyright © 2017

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reprinted without written permission from the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead (or in any other form), business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover design by: Extended Imagery

  Special thanks to: Jet, Ann, Joe, Kelli, and Mary Ann—your help is invaluable and means more to me than you may know.

  OTHER BOOKS BY MARK LUKENS

  ANCIENT ENEMY – www.amazon.com/dp/B00FD4SP8M

  DARKWIND: ANCIENT ENEMY 2 – www.amazon.com/dp/B01K42JBGW

  HOPE’S END: ANCIENT ENEMY 3 – www.amazon.com/dp/B07G1MS6RK

  EVIL SPIRITS: ANCIENT ENEMY 4 – www.amazon.com/dp/B07L8KLXVB

  SIGHTINGS – www.amazon.com/dp/B00VAI31KW

  DEVIL’S ISLAND – www.amazon.com/dp/B06WWJC6VD

  WHAT LIES BELOW – www.amazon.com/dp/B0143LADEY

  DESCENDANTS OF MAGIC – www.amazon.com/dp/B00FWYYYYC

  THE SUMMONING – www.amazon.com/dp/B00HNEOHKU

  NIGHT TERRORS – www.amazon.com/dp/B00M66IU3U

  THE EXORCIST’S APPRENTICE – www.amazon.com/dp/B00YYF1E5C

  THE DARWIN EFFECT – www.amazon.com/dp/B01G4A8ZYC

  A DARK COLLECTION: 12 SCARY STORIES – www.amazon.com/dp/B00JENAGLC

  GHOST TOWN: A NOVELLA – www.amazon.com/dp/B00LEZRF7G

  RAZORBLADE DREAMS: HORROR STORIES – www.amazon.com/dp/B076B7W252

  FOLLOWED – www.amazon.com/dp/B078WYGMJN

  THE VAMPIRE GAME – www.amazon.com/dp/B07C2M72X9

  POSSESSION: THE EXORCIST’S APPRENTICE 2 – www.amazon.com/dp/B07NCZQTNR

  AUTHOR’S NOTE:

  I started writing this book quite a few years ago, but then I abandoned it for some time. That early first draft had most of the same characters as the series that it has now become: Ray and his family, Josh, Emma, Luke, and Wilma. That story was similar to this one, yet still different. That first draft had become a very long book. I loved the characters, but I was never satisfied with the story, and I won’t publish a story unless I’m as happy with it as I can be. Two years ago, I had a new idea for this series, a different direction to take it in, but the characters were still there, still alive in my mind through the years. But there was a problem—when I told the story from the multiple viewpoints of these characters, the book got way too long. So I had the idea to tell the story of the beginning of the collapse from these main characters’ points of view in their own books. So, this first book is told from Ray and his family and Emma’s points of view. The second book is told from Josh’s point of view. And the third book is told from Luke and Wilma’s points of view. In the fourth book the characters (the ones still alive) will all come together (this isn’t really a spoiler because it is alluded to in all three of these books). I know many readers may skip this Author’s Note (and I’ve heard some readers even skip prologues, even though I can’t understand why—it would be like going to see a movie ten minutes after it has started), so I imagine some readers may get upset if they don’t see much of the characters from Book 1 in Books 2 and 3. And maybe this approach is a little unusual, but I really felt I needed to write these books this way. Does this mean that the first three books could be read out of order? Yes, because each book is its own complete story, but I had intended them to be read in order because information is revealed along the way as you get deeper into the series. I do hope that after you’ve finished reading this book you’ll journey on to Books 2 and 3 to meet Josh, Isaac, Luke, and Wilma. And from there I hope you’ll continue on with the series.

  Thank you!

  Mark

  PART ONE

  CHAPTER 1

  Washington D.C. – October 21st

  For Ray Daniels, the day civilization collapsed started out like any other day. He drove to the CDC building where he worked, just as he had done for the last twelve years: same route, same streets, same stops. As the sun peeked above the horizon, providing light but little in the way of warmth, Ray stopped for a cup of coffee at the gas station where he usually got coffee in the morning. He thought about getting some gas while he was there, but decided against it because the gas station seemed unusually busy at this early hour. In a few hours he would regret not filling his vehicle up with gas.

  Back in his SUV, a Toyota 4-Runner that had been completely paid off for three years now, he set his coffee thermos (a Christmas gift last year from Vanessa, his seven-year-old daughter) in the cup holder. He started up his vehicle and left the parking lot.

  As he drove, he half-listened to the news on the radio. It was nothing but bad news these days. There had been massive business closings and layoffs throughout the summer, and the stock market had finally crashed in late September. Some of the economists on the TV and radio news shows were calling the stock market crash the king of the bubbles, or the granddaddy of all bubbles, but most were just calling it “The Big Crash.” It wasn’t just one sector affected this time, like housing or commodities, but all of them. And there didn’t seem to be any signs of recovery anytime soon. Protests in the city streets had turned into riots. Violent crimes and murders had skyrocketed in the last few weeks. Rumors were whispered at work (mostly from Doug) about people being murdered by the thousands just in the last few days. There were other rumors of people being rounded up and detained by the police and the military. Many suspected martial law was coming soon.

  But those rumors couldn’t be true, could they?

  The economy seemed to be mirroring Ray’s marriage, which was also crashing and burning. Kim had admitted that she had cheated on him with some guy named Gary; a friend of a friend, she’d told him. It had just started out as a shoulder to lean on, she’d said, but then it had turned into something more. It just happened.

  It just happened.

  Ray felt numb now. How had his marriage spiraled out of control like this? How had it gotten to the point that he couldn’t trust Kim? How had it gotten to the point that Kim needed to find comfort in another man? Ray worked hard, he made great money. He’d bought Kim a nice house in the suburbs. He had invested their money carefully and wisely (but now all of their savings were evaporating thanks to “The Big Crash”). But apparently that hadn’t been enough for her.

  She’d told him during their last argument that he was never around anymore. He wasn’t there for her, and he wasn’t there for the kids. And even when he was home he wasn’t there. He was still distracted with the work he brought home with him in his head, she’d told him.

  “You wanted money and security,” he’d argued back. “I’ve given you everything you’ve wanted, and it’s still not enough.”

  “I want you!” she’d screamed at him. “I love the fact that you provide for me and our children, but I want you here with us, too. You’re not yourself anymore. You’re so consumed with work that you don’t have time for us.”

  “So this is my fault? I sent you to another man to sleep with?”

  Their discussion had ended in more shouting. Ray had threatened to leave. Kim pointed at the door. “There it is,” she’d told him.

  Now Ray was both numb and stressed out at the same time. He’d always taken good care of himself. He didn’t smoke or drink and he ate a healthy diet. He’d been an athlete in high school and at college, playing football well enough in high school to get a scholarship, but not well enough to
make it as a starter on the Auburn football team. And even after graduation and getting a government job, he still worked out three times a week with the weightlifting equipment in the garage. He jogged around their neighborhood twice a week. But now the stress was getting to him. His stomach was constantly upset, and now he was starting to get strange aches and pains in his chest.

  Ray stopped at a red light. He sipped his coffee and changed the radio station. A newscaster was reporting about a family that had been murdered in Kentucky—the entire family found slaughtered. Random attackers? Someone they knew? The newscaster didn’t know. It hadn’t seemed to have been a robbery, just one more act of senseless violence. And there were more reports of bizarre murders from around the country: three dead in Boston, seemingly ripped apart; six dead and mutilated bodies found in Arizona; a man who’d been half-eaten by animals in Arkansas.

  The traffic light turned green.

  He drove down the road and wondered what he was going to do. He didn’t want to leave; he didn’t want to be away from his children. Why should he leave? He wasn’t the one who’d been unfaithful. When he thought about being away from Mike and Vanessa, he felt like throwing up.

  Kim assured him that it was over between her and Gary. It had just been a fling, and it didn’t really mean anything. But Ray still felt numb. He wasn’t sure what he wanted. Did he want to stay with Kim? Did he want a divorce? One thing he was sure of, he didn’t want to be away from his kids, he didn’t want to be visiting them on the weekends. Somehow he and Kim needed to find a way to work this out. It might take a long time, but they had to try. He had to try. He needed to change.

  These last few days he had really tried to see things from Kim’s point of view. Some of the things Kim had been saying during their arguments had gotten through to him. Maybe he needed to cut back on his hours at work. Kim wanted him to quit his job so they could move to Cincinnati to be closer to her family. Ray had refused before, but now he was actually considering it—at least it would get her away from Gary. Why not move? They could sell the house before the value plummeted to nothing and buy something in Ohio, maybe even rent a house. He could always get a job somewhere else. He was just a number cruncher for the CDC; he could get an accounting job anywhere.

  Ray sipped his coffee again, feeling a little better. It was Friday, and he was going to talk to Kim tonight—really talk about things. Maybe they could even get Mandy to watch the kids for a few hours while they went out to dinner. Afterwards, they could take a walk around the park where they used to bring the kids. They could spend some time together, really talk about things, talk about moving to Ohio. She would be excited about that.

  He switched to another radio station. There was a report of violent clashes between protesters and police through the night in Seattle.

  On another station, some kind of financial expert was explaining that the 2000 and 2008 stock market crashes had just been warning tremors compared to the earthquake that was going on now. The debt bubble around the world had gotten too big, and now it had finally popped. Money was just paper now, he explained, backed by nothing but faith. And when that faith disappeared, then there was no value anymore. “Your money is just blips on a computer screen somewhere,” the financial expert on the radio said. “Nothing but blips that you believe in. And now nobody believes in those blips anymore.”

  Ray changed the station again. He didn’t want to listen to that. The next station had some religious zealot preaching that the End Times were finally upon us. The man urged people to get ready, to prepare themselves, to get as much food and water together as they could.

  The religious zealot on the radio reminded Ray of Doug, a colleague at work. Doug had cashed in his retirement account and a large inheritance he’d recently received, converting the money to gold, silver, and other hard assets. He had bought some property in the boonies of West Virginia, a place where he could “bug out,” as he called it.

  Usually Ray tuned out Doug’s paranoid ramblings, but some of what he was saying was beginning to make some sense. And after the 1200 point drop in the stock market yesterday, he had to admit that he was more worried than ever. He was sure that his retirement investments were about gone now. He had met with Larry, their financial advisor, earlier in the week and Larry had told him to be patient. Larry had smiled at him and Kim while nervous perspiration beaded on his upper lip; he looked like he hadn’t slept in a week. This was a massive correction, Larry had told them. Everyone knew it was coming, he added with a nervous smile, his hands clasped together in front of him like he was trying to keep them from trembling. He went on to tell them that after this correction was over there would be plenty of money to be made in undervalued stocks and real estate—kind of like a massive garage sale. He told Ray and Kim that the markets had rebounded pretty quickly after 2008, and he assured them that the markets would rebound again. They always did.

  But the markets weren’t even close to rebounding—they were on the verge of a true and total collapse now.

  He switched to another radio station and listened to one man interviewing another man.

  “Yes, people are panicking a little right now,” the man on the radio said with a chuckle. “But this correction in the market is not as bad as everyone’s making it out to be.”

  “The selloff of derivatives?” the interviewer asked. “The out-of-control inflation? The currency collapse?”

  “Oh, hold on,” the man said. “I don’t think I’d call it a currency collapse just yet. Everyone knew that stocks were way overvalued and that a correction was coming, just like it’s done for the last hundred years.”

  He sounds like my financial advisor, Ray thought, and he could picture his advisor logging on to his computer right after he and Kim had left his office and cashing in all his chips while he waited for his next clients, wiping the sweat off of his face and forcing a smile before they walked in.

  Ray switched the radio station again, trying to find some music. A man was yelling: “It’s only going to take one more terrorist attack, one more riot, one more protest that gets out of control before the government declares martial law! And you know what? I don’t blame them.”

  Ray switched the station again. More reports of protests in Baltimore and New York.

  “People are waking up this morning and finding out their bank accounts have been frozen,” a reporter said in a breaking report from the scene of the mob, the noise of the crowd in the background.

  Ray’s heart skipped a beat. Was that true? Had the banks frozen everyone’s accounts?

  He listened as the report continued, but then his attention was torn away when he pulled into the parking lot of the CDC building. There were a lot of vehicles parked already, as usual. But nobody was inside the building yet—they were all gathered outside the front doors in a big group.

  CHAPTER 2

  Ray parked his Toyota 4-Runner and turned off the engine. He grabbed his ID card, which was attached to a long cloth necklace. He draped the cloth necklace over his head and the card lay down against his tie, which was stuffed down neatly underneath his buttoned suitcoat. He grabbed his coffee thermos and his briefcase, and then he got out. He looked over at the building. Everyone was still there. No one had gone inside yet.

  It was cold, but warming up just a little as the sun brightened the day. Ray felt a chill run through him, and there was a small stone of fear forming in the pit of his stomach.

  Something was wrong here.

  Why was everyone outside the building? Were the doors locked? Everyone had a keycard (the ID cards they wore around their necks); it wasn’t like they had to wait for someone to unlock the doors for them.

  Maybe the system was down—some kind of computer glitch.

  As Ray walked towards the large group of his fellow co-workers, which he realized now was made up of many smaller cliques of people, Doug ran up to him.

  “Ray . . . Ray, they locked us out. Changed the keycards or something.”

  R
ay stared at Doug, gripping his briefcase handle a little too tightly. He could feel his fingers trembling slightly as he held onto the coffee thermos. This didn’t feel real to him right now; it felt like a dream, a dream where he was in a place that was familiar, but everything he knew was morphing into something strange.

  Doug’s suitcoat was unbuttoned and his tie was loosened, the top buttons of his shirt undone exposing pale flesh that was turning red. Doug was a painfully thin man with pasty-white skin. He had fiery red hair, and he always seemed to have a five o’clock shadow of reddish-brown stubble even though he shaved every morning. He usually had a disheveled look about him, but this morning it was even worse; he looked like he’d slept in his clothes.

  But it was Doug’s eyes that bothered Ray the most. Doug’s eyes were wide and bulging. They were panicked eyes, but also excited eyes.

  “Hold on, Doug,” Ray heard himself say, and it sounded like his voice was coming from somewhere far away. “Slow down.” He was beginning to feel a little light-headed.

  “You don’t understand, Ray. This is it. The economy is in the shitter. People are rioting. Bank accounts have been frozen. Did you hear about that?”

  Ray nodded.

  “It’s the Collapse, man. It’s really here. I told you it was coming. I told you.”

  Ray shook his head slowly. He opened his mouth to say something, but then he snapped it shut again. What could he say? He had heard the special report on the radio just a few minutes ago about bank accounts being frozen. But he didn’t want to panic just yet. There could be more to the story. Was it just one bank? Just one area?

  “Which bank?” Regina asked as she hurried up to them. Her eyes were dinner plates of fear in her round, fleshy face. She hugged her arms in the chilly air like the thin sweater she was wearing wasn’t enough protection against the cold.