Feral Nation Series: Books 1-3: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller Series Boxed Set Read online

  He quietly slipped back out of the house the way he came in, through the screen room to the iron gate by the pool, where stopped to scan the canal. Everything seemed as quiet and deserted as when he arrived, so he exited through the gate this time and slipped back down the dock, where he knelt to reach under the edge for his kayak. Just as he was about to slide back into the cockpit, the sound of outboard motors to the east interrupted the silence. Eric paused to listen. It only took a few seconds to determine that the sound was getting closer, and that’s when he realized someone had turned off the ICW and entered the canals. It sounded like more than one boat, and they were both moving fast.

  Eric already knew there wasn’t a better place to get out of sight on this canal than where he’d already hidden his boat under Daniel and Shauna’s dock, so he pushed it back beneath the planking. He quickly realized he wasn’t overreacting when to his dismay he saw a speeding runabout round the corner heading into this very cul-de-sac. There was no time to retreat back to the concealment of the fence and surrounding vegetation. He would be spotted if he made a run for it, so instead, Eric lowered himself into the water and ducked under the dock behind his kayak, laying his M4 across the foredeck to keep it out of the water and give him a platform from which to shoot if necessary.

  As the driver of the boat realized he entered a dead end canal, he reduced speed but drove the boat all the way to the far end, just past where Eric was hiding. The man didn’t stop, but slammed into the wooden seawall with no regard to the damage it did to his boat and quickly scrambled to leap ashore without even bothering to shut off the outboard. Peering out at the other end of the canal, Eric saw why he was in such a hurry. Another boat that was obviously in pursuit rounded the corner and quickly throttled back to idle. Eric saw a man in the bow aiming a rifle as the boat settled down, its wake rolling through the pilings around him and causing the kayak to bounce into the deck boards overhead. A half dozen rifle shots fired in quick succession ripped through the night, and Eric heard a scream from the man ashore as he was struck before he could reach the cover of the nearest house. The fallen man was still alive and trying to crawl, but the other boat was closing the distance, and when the rifle spoke again, Eric saw the victim collapse and remain still.

  The pursuing boat was barely twenty yards away from him now, and Eric had it covered in the sights of his rifle. He was certain that he hadn’t been seen and doubted the two men aboard it would be looking under any docks, but he was ready to take them out if he had to. Now that he had a close up view of it, he could see that the boat wasn’t the typical gloss white fiberglass pleasure craft that was so common here. It was utilitarian aluminum, with a dark, non-reflective gray finish that suggested a law enforcement or military craft, although there were no identifying markings on the hull.

  The two men were dressed in dark, nondescript clothing that matched their boat; one standing at the helm while the shooter remained at the bow, focused on the downed man who’d failed to escape them. Eric couldn’t be certain they were law enforcement or military, but they didn’t look like typical civilians. What he’d just witnessed though seemed more like an execution than an attempt to make an arrest, and further convinced him of the need for stealth while operating in these waters. If he hadn’t lucked out with the tide, which was just at the right level to give him sufficient clearance beneath the dock to conceal his kayak, Eric knew he would have been screwed. He didn’t want to engage in a firefight with men that might be legitimate law enforcement officers doing their job, but without the kayak and the stuff he had in it, Eric’s quest would be finished before it even started. He kept them covered as the boat drifted, it’s twin Honda outboards humming at low idle, but as he watched them, he couldn’t help thinking of his brother. Keith Branson could be conducting just such a mission this very night, honoring his sworn pledge to protect and serve the people of his jurisdiction. Eric had no way of knowing why they’d killed the fleeing man, but as long as they didn’t discover him there, he figured it was none of his business. They were talking in low whispers, but he couldn’t hear anything of what was said. The one with the rifle climbed into the other boat and shut off the engine, and as soon as he was back aboard with his partner, the helmsman made a slow U-turn and the mysterious boat headed back out of the canal the way it came.

  Eric breathed a sigh of relief as he emerged from under the dock, waiting in the water as he listened to the sound of the boat making its way out of the canal neighborhood and back to the ICW. When the engines finally revved up to cruising speed, he could tell that the two men were heading south, making his next decision easy.

  Seven

  AS ERIC SETTLED INTO his kayak to make his exit, he glanced one more time at the body of the slain man sprawled in the overgrown grass of what once had been a manicured lawn. If what he’d witnessed was indeed a police shooting, justified or otherwise, there was no documentation of it. The men hadn’t even bothered to go check the body, and Eric knew there would be no forensics team on the scene to gather evidence or even a coroner to come remove the remains. If they were lawmen, it seemed to Eric they were too late to do much good based on what he’d seen of Shauna’s neighborhood. It was bizarre to see firsthand what things had come to here in such a short period of time, and once again, Eric found himself hoping he wasn’t too late.

  He had waited until the sound of the boat had faded away into the distance before getting back in his kayak, and then a bit more in case someone hiding in one of the nearby homes had been drawn out by the sound of gunfire. But nothing moved, and satisfied that he was alone again, he paddled swiftly and silently to escape the network of canals before someone else could arrive. When he came to the final exit, he turned left onto the Intracoastal Waterway, heading north in the direction from which he came. He had done all he could do here and it was time to leave the east coast of Florida behind. He already knew his next destination was his father’s place on the Caloosahatchee River; the only question remaining was how, and by which route. Even before he’d left the house and heard the approach of the two boats, he was weighing the pros and cons of the available options in his mind. The most direct route, of course, was overland via the highways or county roads. It was almost a straight shot west across the state that way, as his father’s house and boatyard was on approximately the same latitude as Shauna’s. There were many problems with that route though, mainly the danger of using roads in a time of lawlessness such as this, especially in a vehicle. If he were traveling light without the need to get his kayak and all that gear overland, Eric could cover the one hundred-mile distance on foot in just a few days. He would have to skirt around towns and other inhabited areas by cutting cross-country, and stay out of sight by traveling at night, but it would be simple and straightforward. But leaving most of his gear and supplies behind wasn’t something he was prepared to do considering the challenges he knew he was facing here.

  He could get there in the kayak, as his destination was on navigable water; it was just going to take a whole lot longer. The two route choices began right there at the exit from the canal he’d just left: south down the ICW to Biscayne Bay and around the southern tip of Florida by way of Cape Sable and the Everglades, or north up the ICW to the Indian River and then across the state by way of the Okeechobee Waterway. The western section of the Okeechobee Waterway was actually the Caloosahatchee River that was his destination. It was the shorter route, but there were many obstacles along the way, including several locks that wouldn’t likely be in operation. There would be a mix of heavy development and protected nature reserves along either route, although in the current situation there was no way of knowing which would contain the most survivors. The locks and dams he could portage around, but Eric knew that it would probably be impossible to travel that far without encountering others.

  He had some thinking to do before making a decision, but his first priority was to get off the water before daybreak. He had turned north for now simply because the boat with th
e two gunmen had gone south. He would double back if he decided on the southern route, but for now he was headed to where he knew he would find safe haven for the day—at Jonathan’s camp near Jupiter Inlet. When he left there he certainly hadn’t planned to ever see the kid again, but he hadn’t passed a better hideout to spend the coming day between there and Shauna’s, so going back was the logical choice, and he knew Jonathan wouldn’t mind. The kid would pester him with more questions when he got there, but hopefully he could get some rest and spend part of the coming day working out a plan.

  Eric kept his paddle strokes steady and relentless as he headed north in the ICW, glancing over his shoulder occasionally to look for any sign of movement behind him. He made it back to the little cutoff into the mangroves about an hour before dawn, just about the same time as his first arrival there the morning before. Eric doubted Jonathan would be awake and watching this morning, but he didn’t want to startle him with his unexpected return. He stopped paddling and let the kayak glide to the sandbar where he’d landed before, whistling a passable imitation of a whippoorwill as he did so. Eric knew that the nocturnal bird inhabited these mangrove sanctuaries, and figured Jonathan wouldn’t be alarmed by the sound when he heard it. He stepped out of the kayak and tied it off, repeating the whistle as he slipped through the woods in the direction of the kid’s camp. Eric didn’t have to worry about getting shot, since he knew Jonathan didn’t have any firearms, but when he was close enough for his voice to be heard, he stopped and whispered just loud enough for his voice to carry to the tent.

  “Jonathan! It’s me. Eric!”

  Eric repeated his whippoorwill call and in a moment heard movement inside the tent. Then the zipper opened and once again Eric was blinded by the bright flashlight Jonathan had shone on him the first time they met.

  “Get that light out of my face, man! I told you it was me!”

  “Dude! I didn’t expect to ever see you again! What did you find? Why did you come back?”

  “I’ll fill you in later—if you don’t mind me hanging out here another day.”

  “Hell no I don’t mind! I want to know what happened that made you decide to come back. I want to know what you found!”

  “Okay, just let me get my boat covered up again and then I’ll get my stuff and we can talk. It’ll be daylight again soon, and there are people watching the waterway.”

  A half hour later the two of them were once again sitting under Jonathan’s tarp in front of his tent, sharing a meal from Eric’s stash.

  “Don’t be so sure they were lawmen at all,” Jonathan said, when Eric told him what he’d witnessed of the two men in the boat. “Just because they didn’t look like ordinary looters or thieves don’t mean a thing!”

  “Well, they didn’t go ashore and approach any of the houses. They didn’t even take anything out of the dead man’s boat or off the body. It looked to me like they were simply pursuing him until he ran out of options. Then they took him out.”

  “Maybe they were cartel enforcers.”

  “Cartel enforcers? Are you kidding?”

  “No, dude! That shit was getting bad before the hurricane hit. With all the other stuff going on that was keeping the cops running in every direction, the cartels were fighting it out for territory, especially down in Miami and Fort Lauderdale. People did what they said because they were afraid of them, but the cartels provided protection from the gangs and other troublemakers too. They weren’t out to hurt anyone that wasn’t causing them problems or interfering with their business. But they are some seriously bad dudes, man. Get on their shit list and you turn up somewhere missing your head.”

  “Just like it’s been in Mexico, huh?”

  “Yeah, maybe worse. That shit was spreading all over south Florida. Probably all the other states along the Gulf coast too.”

  Eric knew he’d been away too long, but had no idea how bad things really were in his home state. He couldn’t have talked Shauna into leaving whether they had stayed together or not though, so it did him little good to worry about her and Megan when it was out of his hands. Shauna loved everything about south Florida and Eric had too at one time. Growing up here with access to the water and all the adventure it offered had been instrumental in shaping the man he’d become. He was an excellent swimmer and expert diver long before he was old enough to join the Navy. He loved this state for many reasons, but it had always been too crowded, especially in the best parts this far south. He’d known even then that the population density was a liability in a disaster, as he’d seen the effects of that many times in the aftermath of lesser hurricanes. In a time of nationwide civil unrest and violence, it was inevitable that places like Florida would become truly dangerous. The only good thing about the hurricane was that its wake of destruction might hinder the bad elements as much as the good. Things were sure to keep going downhill though, no matter what, and Eric didn’t have time to waste. He needed to get to his father’s place fast and find out if Shauna and Megan were there or not, and try and talk his old man into leaving, whether they were or not. He told Jonathan what he planned to do, and how he was still weighing his options regarding the two water routes to his destination.

  “Man, I don’t know. That’s a tough one! It’s a lot farther if you go south, and you’ll hit a lot of messed up urban areas on the way, but crossing the waterway, it’s almost like you’re gonna be trapped.”

  “I know, and I don’t like it. Long stretches of canals and rivers would be a good place to run into an ambush, but so would parts of the ICW to the south. I could stay farther offshore going south, but if I commit to that I’m going to have some long hauls between stops.”

  “That’s why you need to take me with you, dude, just like I suggested when we met. I can help paddle, and the two of us could get there faster than you could alone.”

  Eric wasn’t as quick to rule out the possibility of taking Jonathan with him as he was before. The kid was self-sufficient and fairly knowledgeable when it came to survival, but beyond that, Eric had no idea. How would he react under fire if it came to that? He was untrained and had no combat experience, and Eric was certain that his own extensive skills would be put to the test before this was over. An extra paddler in the heavy two-man kayak would make a difference in his average speed though, and Jonathan seemed like he’d be able to pull his weight and do his part. Eric put off his answer for now. He needed to sleep for at least a few hours while it was daylight, and then he could make a better decision. Intermittent showers throughout the day kept the temperature in the woods bearable, and Eric slept soundly until he heard Jonathan calling him in an urgent, whispered voice.

  “Eric! Wake up, man! There’s somebody out there!”

  Eric snapped to full alertness in a second, grabbing the M4 beside him as he rolled up to a crouch under the tarp.

  “Where? How many?” he asked, scanning the thicket that surrounded them and seeing nothing.

  “Out there, on the waterway. They’re in a sailboat! They just dropped their anchor a few minutes ago, right in front of the little channel leading in here, of all places. I was fishing the mangroves just to the north when I saw them coming.”

  “Did they see you?”

  “No, and I don’t think they’ve seen your kayak yet either, the way you’ve got it covered up. But if they decide to come ashore….”

  Jonathan went on to say that he’d seen at least two men on the boat, and that it looked like they intended to anchor there for the night. Even if they didn’t come ashore and spot his kayak in the little channel, he would have to pass right by their boat when they left. That wouldn’t present a problem if they were asleep, but if they weren’t, he could be delayed for hours waiting.

  “Stay here and I’ll go see if I can tell what they’re up to. Maybe if we’re lucky they’ll decide to move on before dark. It seems to me that it would be pretty stupid to anchor out there in the ICW in plain sight.”

  Eric worked his way down to the water’s edge, staying
low in the cover of the mangroves until he could see the boat through the foliage. Like Jonathan had said, it was a small sailboat with a cabin, maybe around twenty-five feet overall. There was obvious storm damage—bent lifeline stanchions and an ugly scar along the white fiberglass topsides just below the rail—but the rig appeared intact and there was a small outboard motor hanging from a retractable mount attached to the stern. Eric noted too that there was a dinghy trailing behind the boat, a small inflatable with plastic oars clipped to holders on the top of its main tubes. Whoever was aboard the sailboat might not have intentions of coming ashore, but the presence of the dinghy meant that they had the means to do so. Eric couldn’t see the crew at all at the moment, as they were obviously down below in the cabin. What they did later would either be a serious problem or a minor inconvenience, but either way, Eric had no choice but to watch and wait.

  Eight

  “I TOLD YOU TO hang back and wait!” Eric whispered as Jonathan came crawling through the underbrush until he was beside him.

  “I waited as long as I could, but dude, you’ve been down here more than an hour!”

  It didn’t seem that long to Eric, even though the evening twilight had faded to almost full darkness. He was focused on his observation and was unconcerned with the passing of time when in a situation like this. He had been watching long enough to ascertain that there were indeed at least two men aboard the sailboat, just as Jonathan had said. Whether there was anyone else aboard, Eric couldn’t tell, but he’d watched the two come and go from down below to the cockpit several times. He’d also observed that both men were armed, one with a pistol on his belt at three o’clock and the other with a large revolver in a shoulder holster. Anybody moving about these days had good reason to be armed, but after what he’d seen the night before, it seemed plain stupid to anchor out there in a major waterway in plain sight. That was just asking for it. Judging from their appearance though, Eric figured these two had little to lose and probably just didn’t care. They didn’t look like the type of men who would have owned a sailboat in their prior lives either. It was pretty obvious they had found it somewhere or taken it from the real owner, and wherever they were headed they would likely continue taking what they wanted. Just a few minutes after Jonathan joined him, Eric saw one of the men pull the dinghy forward alongside the boat, so the other could step into it. Then he followed, standing in the inflatable and untying the line while his buddy readied the plastic oars.