Catalyst (Book 2): Kingdoms of Sorrow Read online

The world had ended with a flourish of color in the night sky; from that point on, civilization had collapsed, those in authority had vanished, gangs and thugs had come and gone. It had all come apart at the seams. What was once normal had disappeared forever in those rippling waves of colored light that lit up the night sky last summer.

  The sounds came again, closer now. He raised his eyes from his dying wife. He couldn’t leave her, but if he didn’t move quickly, he would also die. Those goddamn bastards. He would find a way to unleash his rage, somehow, before he, too, gave in. Before I give up. She was all he had left, and soon she would be gone, too. He brushed her dark hair away from her face, the face that was still so beautiful as the fingers of his marked hand swept back the wispy strands.

  He prayed for her to sleep. Begged God for her pain to stop. He watched the shadows and jittery beams of the flashlights approaching as the men worked their way through the trees toward their hiding place. He could not leave her, not after all he had done to find her, not while she still drew breath. He could not let those animals have her back. Leaning over her, he kissed her cracked, dry lips one last time. “I love you so much, I am so sorry for all this. I’ll find her, I promise.” Their eyes met, and he thought he saw a small nod of acceptance. Slowly, he slipped the knife from its sheath. It had to be done.

  Chapter Two

  Harris Springs, Mississippi

  Scott Montgomery could barely move in the confined space. While not normally claustrophobic, he knew he was getting close to losing his shit. “DeVonte!” he yelled for the third time. This time he heard a faint response. Looking back down the metallic cave to the entrance, he could just make out a small rectangle of light. “Try it again,” he yelled in that direction. He was stuck here in the bowels of the silent cruise ship, attempting to bypass the useless control system in order to access the weather radar system.

  “That got it,” the response echoed back down the wiring conduit to a much-relieved Scott. There was only room in the narrow space to turn around at key junctions. He was currently curled up in one of them with a multimeter for checking voltage in one hand and a completely fucking useless radio in the other. He wondered again why he was doing this job—then he remembered. Oh yeah . . . it was my freaking bright idea.

  He wrapped insulating tape around the connection and bound it back into the wiring bundle with a zip tie. “Coming out,” he yelled to anyone who might still care that he was down here. Slowly, he twisted his body into a contortionist-worthy position that would allow him to begin inching back up the conduit to the opening on the ship's bridge. He felt a twinge that signaled the beginning of a leg cramp. Not now, he thought, trying to force the pain away with sheer willpower, at least until he was free of the confined space.

  They had made it through the bulk of the previous year’s hurricane season almost unscathed. Here on the Gulf of Mexico, having some advance warning would be very helpful. Inside the massive cruise ship that most of the former town of Harris Springs now called home, Scott had eyed the dead radar dish pensively until he came up with a plan to repair it. The radar system was state of the art Doppler technology, as with most things on the massive cruise liner. The Aquatic Goddess, as she was formerly known, had needed the weather radar during its normal routes to avoid frequent tropical storms. The ship no longer went to sea; Scott and his friends had moved into it and then moored it here in the Intracoastal canal behind the town of Harris Springs. It now served as both a refuge and a base camp for over two hundred people who lived in its staterooms as permanent guests. While the residents of the ship could easily withstand the frequent strong storms, others in the surrounding area might not be so lucky. The ship provided for many locals’ needs, yet the residents still relied on and helped support countless fishermen, farmers, law enforcement and others living off-ship in the area. Advanced warning of a storm could allow those away from the ship, whether on land or on water, to seek shelter, move resources and do whatever else was necessary to prepare.

  It had been five months since the solar flare had brought down the power grid and killed most of the planet’s electrical devices. They were just now learning how to bypass some of the ship’s control circuitry and adjust voltages from the roof-mounted solar array to get a few things working. The solar flare, or CME blast, had hit late last summer; it was now mid-January. In the months after the collapse, a lot of shit went down. Many died, and much of the town was destroyed, including Scott’s house, which was burned down in a pretty dramatic gang attack . . ..

  Harris Springs had had a population of nearly 700 people before; now it was around 240. The winter had been especially tough, so that the number of recent dead outweighed the living by a large margin. No family had been spared loss. The grim predictions Scott had learned of in the Catalyst documents his hacker friend had sent him had all proven quite accurate. If anything, the mortality rate, in reality, was even worse than the forecasts had conjectured.

  DeVonte gave Scott a hand as he came out of the tiny hatch. Todd, who was the acting mayor of Harris Springs, or perhaps more accurately, Chief of the Boat, turned and winked at his friend. “We got peektures,” he joked, drawing out the word to comical levels as he watched the recently animated screen in front of him. Scott could faintly hear the motor on the enclosed radar dish above the superstructure. If it was working correctly, it was turning the dish a full circle about every thirty seconds. “Looks like a storm up to the north, though that could just be terrain that’s showing up,” Todd continued. “We’ll have to watch and see if it moves. May need to adjust the dish angle. The view over the ocean is clean, though. I’ve moved the view out to the max, which looks to be 250 miles.”

  “Power use looks preddy steady, and it’s drawing a bit less than you projected,” DeVonte chimed in, “We should be okay just using it a few times each day. Won’t drain the batteries much.”

  Electrical power was an ongoing issue for the ship. They had a generator, and the big engines themselves also generated power. Occasionally, they ran the massive machines just to charge the batteries and cycle seawater through the onboard desalinization plant. Unfortunately, the amount of fuel needed to run the engines was obscene. While they had plenty of diesel, it was strictly rationed. In time, it would either run out or go bad. The council had to be prepared for that day.

  Much of the last five months had been spent bypassing computer controls, fried circuit boards and the various built-in safety systems of the ship. The whole boat was now jury-rigged, but it was mostly working to their minimal requirements which meant it never moved; it was essentially a floating refugee camp. The biggest problem they were facing onboard was air circulation. Even now, in winter, the lower decks of the boat were uncomfortably hot, and most areas had little air movement. Even with access doors and hatchways open, the fresh air did not penetrate far enough into the bowels of the beautiful ship. In the warmer months ahead, they would be unbearable without running AC, but the ship’s central HVAC air system would simply not come back to life, no matter how much coaxing they did. The team would be forced to look for other options. Thankfully, most of the current occupants could fit above deck level where most of the rooms had windows or balcony doors to the outside.

  DeVonte began to shut the revived system down. “Oh, Kaylie was lookin’ for you. I told her you was stuck in the plumbing like a big ol’ giant turd. She’s waiting for you down in the bar.”

  The bar was the forward galley several decks below. It had been one of the smaller restaurant/bars on the ship, but it suited the small community’s needs for a common space these days.

  Todd, Scott, Jack and Bartos had been the combined driving force that saved what was left of the town last summer, and they continued to play their roles on board. Todd and Scott had brought the abandoned cruise ship in from open ocean to its current mooring. Now it sat in the Intracoastal Waterway just down from the mostly abandoned town, their original home, Harris Springs. “Thanks guys, I’m beat. Let me go see what my niece n
eeds . . . then I’m calling it a day.”

  Scott grabbed a towel off a maintenance cart and dried the sweat and dirt from his face and arms. His unkempt, dark blonde hair needed washing, but that would have to wait a few more days. He pulled on a t-shirt with the guitar-and-spaceship logo of the seventies band, Boston, on the front.

  When he arrived at the entrance to the bar, he paused at the door to look at his niece. She was a smaller version of her mom and just as beautiful, although he had to admit she had gotten too skinny lately, a complaint he might apply to everyone he knew. Calories were increasingly hard to come by. Their food was heavily rationed, and frankly, most of what they had to survive on was not very appetizing. Scott had lost almost thirty pounds, and he had been pretty lean to start. “Hey, girl,” he greeted her playfully, “what’s up?”

  Kaylie turned and smiled before she stood and hugged her uncle. She was always genuinely glad to see him, but this show of emotion was unusual, even for her. Scott held her close; something had happened, though he wasn’t sure what. “They said Little Rock was judged,” she said, nearly in a whisper.

  “Who said?”

  Tears filled her eyes. “The Messengers. They said Little Rock was judged and found wanting. That the Messengers of God have purged it of its sin and evil.”

  Scott took his niece by the hand and sat her down in one of the garishly-colored chairs in the Caribbean-themed space. Kaylie was from Little Rock, and the last anyone had heard, her parents were still there. He waited for the sobs to diminish before speaking.

  “Your dad is a smart man, Kaylie. He told me they were bugging out the first week. Honey, they would not still be there. You have to stop listening to those preachers on the radio. The crusaders, or Messengers, or whatever they’re calling themselves this week, are simply spreading panic and guilt. We don’t have time for that. They want everyone to believe the Rapture happened, and God is using them to unleash the Four Horsemen on the Earth! I’m going to talk with Bartos. He’s letting you spend too much time in the radio room . . . it isn’t healthy.”

  “I want to find my mom, Uncle Scott! And I need to stay in touch with DJ,” she said, a bitter edge to her voice. “Besides, the Messengers are on almost all the channels that are still broadcasting. It’s hard to hear anything but them . . . Could they really have destroyed an entire city?”

  Scott wasn’t sure. The group seemed to have formed from a number of evangelical survivors and now appeared to be massing into more of a radicalized Christian gang. “I don’t know, Bubbles. I doubt it. Most likely they found the city in ruins and are just taking credit for it.”

  “Well, shit, that makes me feel so much better,” she said sarcastically.

  Scott raised his eyebrows apologetically. “No lies, remember our deal? I’m not sugarcoating anything for you in this fun new world. We’ll keep calling for your dad, you stay on schedule with DJ, and we’ll let Bartos or the other listeners monitor those Bible-thumping crazies up the road.”

  DJ was Kaylie’s boyfriend. She had left him behind in Tallahassee when Scott and Todd rescued her and DeVonte from the campus in the days just after the CME. DJ was doing bioresearch at FSU under pressure from a mysterious occupying task force called “Praetor.” Scott still wasn’t sure if they were good guys or not, but the viral research DJ performed seemed to be vitally important to them following the flare.

  Scott had attempted to set up a way for the two sweethearts to talk by radio, but the distance had been too far. They had not been able to make contact at all, until a repeater was set up near Mobile, that is, by some US Navy guys that Scott and Todd were friends with. Now they were able to get semi-regular reports from DJ from the labs at the university. In turn, they passed any strategic information back to the surviving Navy. In truth, the Navy was probably monitoring it all; after all, they had the equipment and the frequencies, but Todd went through the motions of keeping them informed via a secure military link just to be sure.

  So much had changed in just five months, since the massive solar flare had struck Earth and crippled the electrical grid, rendering most electronics useless. The power failed; transportation ground to a stop, effectively ending all food supplies; clean water became harder to get; medical care ceased. Then the economy collapsed, dollars became worthless, banks closed, and quickly, law enforcement and the government stopped functioning altogether. Survival was now a constant endeavor and death a frequent visitor.

  He looked at the empty bar. The liquor bottles were all but gone at this point. What I wouldn’t give for a few fingers of good Scotch and a steak, he thought. Scott kissed his niece on the forehead. “Nothing’s changed since yesterday, Kay. Your mom and dad are not in little Rock. I’m heading to the bunks to get some rest.”

  “Not going home tonight?” she asked.

  “Too tired,” he said, wandering down the darkened corridor. “Love you,” he called back.

  “Love you, too,” she whispered as he disappeared into the dark.

  Chapter Three

  They had both decided to live in one of the nicer beach homes after the family cottage had been burned down. Quite often, though, they wound up staying on the AG, as it was starting to be known. Much of their work was there, and, especially with the shorter winter days, walking or riding bikes several miles home in the dark wasn’t fun. Scott still wasn’t comfortable being surrounded by people day and night, but it was certainly safer. He had once been something of a misanthrope, a loner hiding out after a ruined marriage, but his social anxiety had been pretty much pushed to a remote corner once every hour of every day became laser focused on surviving.

  Kaylie tried to sleep. She knew her uncle was probably right. Her dad was prepared; he would have gotten out of town quickly. Probably headed deep into the Ozark Mountains where the family had a small cabin. She was pretty sure he had a couple of caves in mind as backup locations, too. He was always a bit of a crazy prepper in her mind . . ..

  He’d told Scott he didn’t have a working vehicle, though, and the Ozarks were almost 200 miles north of their home. Maybe they actually tried to come south toward where she, Scott, and the family’s beach cottage was—used to be—she corrected herself. She knew in her heart that her dad would have multiple safe places to go. She just had a bad feeling, something she just couldn’t shake. After Todd and her uncle had gotten her from Tallahassee, they’d been unable to reach her parents to let them know she was safe. She knew that not knowing whether she was safe would be driving them both crazy with worry.

  She tossed and turned in the small bunk, listening to the snores echoing through the confines of the space. Kaylie was supposed to help in the clinic tomorrow, and she knew it would be a long day, it always was. But all she could think of were the horrible things she had heard about the Messengers and their terrifying spree. It wasn’t fair. Surviving through everything so far had been hard enough: the soldiers, the gangs, the hunger. And now, after all that, she had to hear about these supposed Christians reining righteous vengeance on the living. She tossed the cover off, slipped into her sneakers, and grabbed a light by the bed. She headed down to the gym where she could practice her Keysi training and try to work off some of this anger.

  Nearing the glass door of the gym, she was surprised to see a light coming from within. As she walked in, she noticed another woman working out on one of the machines. Kaylie had seen her several times, but they had never actually met. She gave a polite nod in greeting. Many of the workout machines wouldn’t work without electricity; others had been modified to bypass the controls, so they functioned but without displays or timers. The other woman sighed as she finished up a set and appeared about to move over to some nearby weights. Walking over, Kaylie smiled and introduced herself.

  The tall, African-American woman returned her smile and said, “I know who you are honey … still, nice to meet you. I’m Angelique. Call me Angel.”

  Kaylie picked up on the woman’s accent right away. “Angelique is an unusual name . .
. and your accent . . . I’m guessing upper Midwest, maybe Minnesota?”

  The woman chuckled. “Close, Wisconsin. Good guess, though.”

  “So why did you take this particular cruise?” Kaylie asked with a smile.

  “Oh, you know, the food, the entertainment, exotic ports of call . . . it seemed to satisfy my need to explore, but with less sea sickness.” They both laughed.

  Kaylie and Angel, as she preferred to be called, talked as they worked out. “So, Angel, were you here on vacation?”

  “Yes, I was with some friends. We were staying in one of the condos. The day the flare hit we were all lying out on the beach. No one really noticed anything about it, except for the fact that most of our cell phones were dead. Then, we got back to the condo, and the power was off. Man, that room was hot! I don’t know how you guys ever made it here before air conditioning.”

  Kaylie smiled. “You get used to it.” Sweat was dripping from both women in torrents.

  “No,” Angel laughed, “No, you don’t. Anyway, here we all were, with no family around, no friends in the area and no way to get home. I didn’t even have a way of getting money or calling anyone for help. Took me a while to figure out I was stranded. Honestly, girl, I was scared to death.

  “We all stayed in the condo, but before long it started to stink, people was getting crazy . . . I started helping the preacher in one of the volunteer tents just so I could get some food and bottled water. I didn’t know what else to do. When your uncle and Todd came back, I mean, after the battle downtown . . .” A faraway look crossed her face for a few seconds, “ . . . I decided I was safer here than trying to get home. I just try and help out where they need me, do odd jobs, survive.”

  “What happened to your friends?”

  Angel’s face stirred briefly with emotion before she cleared her throat and said, “It’s late.” She stepped off the treadmill, “I gotta help in the cafeteria for breakfast. It was nice meeting you, Kaylie.” She raised a hand in goodbye as she left the gym for the dark beyond.