Nolan's Ark

  Nolan’s Ark

  Armageddon Times #1

  Mark Gillespie

  This is a work of speculative fiction. All of the events and dialogue depicted within are a product of the author’s overactive imagination. None of this stuff happened. Except maybe in a parallel universe.

  Copyright © 2019 by Mark Gillespie

  www.markgillespieauthor.com

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  First Printing: December 2019

  Cover by Vincent Sammy

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  Contents

  Quote

  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

  The End

  After the End

  After the End Trilogy

  The Future of London (Books 1-5)

  The Future of London

  Exterminators Cover

  The Exterminators Trilogy

  Dystopiaville

  GrimLog (Tales of Terror)

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  Website/Social Media

  Quote

  ‘Dogs have a way of finding the people who need them.’

  Thom Jones

  Chapter 1

  Butch Nolan woke up with the taste of blood in his mouth.

  He was lying belly down on a warm, hard surface. Outside – he was outside somewhere.

  When he lifted his head it felt to Nolan like he was riding around on a twisted merry-go-round, spinning endless circles at a hundred miles per hour. If that wasn’t bad enough he was also staring out at a blurry world that appeared to be on fire.

  He spat blood onto the concrete. It formed a shallow purplish-black puddle in the darkness. Looked more like oil than blood.

  “Diesel? Where are you boy?”

  With a groan, Nolan pushed himself off the ground, moving with all the grace of a drugged animal. As he wobbled, he took in the scenery – the open space, wide iron gates, several rows of fancy-looking cars tucked in at the edges.

  Cars…

  Of course. He was in the parking lot at Paramount Studios. It was the big lot at the back where they’d held the party where Nolan and some of the other cast members of Goliath had been showing off the Monster Bus-Tanks to the visiting politicians. Jesus. It was cringeworthy but Nolan had promised Sam Taylor, the show’s long-term producer, that he’d make an appearance for the sake of the cameras at least. Nolan would much rather have stayed at home with a cold beer but he turned up for Sam, planning to stay no longer than a couple of hours. Max.

  The journalists had hovered in the background, snapping hundreds, thousands of photos – click, click, click – a fucking showcase for the…

  “Oh shit,” Nolan said.

  The attack.

  The fucking attack had brought everything to a halt. That explained it – that explained why the city appeared to be on fire.

  It was on fire.

  Nolan licked the blood off his lips. At the same time, he recalled the screaming and the firebombs painting the horizon alight with a terror show of hot, dancing colors. Fighter planes racing through the night sky. Clouds of dust and smoke had smothered the colors, casting a pall of darkness over the city.

  Where had all those jets come from?

  “DIESEL!”

  Nolan tried to get up but the dizziness wasn’t done with him yet. What the hell…?

  He glanced skyward, watching as plumes of black smoke spiraled towards the clouds. Distant fires crackled and sounded much closer than they were. Nolan’s nostrils twitched as a gust of foul, chemical-enhanced air rammed its way down his throat and choked his insides.

  They were still screaming out there on the street. The screams were so frequent that it was almost becoming normal, like the sound of birdsong on a spring morning.

  There was a constant banging noise, which sounded like cascading debris hitting the street nearby.

  “What is this?” Nolan asked.

  How had the world gone from a dull, showbiz party to hell on earth?

  The parking lot, which had been crammed with tables and chairs, catering stands, a variety of TV props, not to mention a shitload of people, was almost empty except for the staff cars that lined the edges. And some of them were gone too. Glancing over his shoulder, Nolan saw that two of the Monster Bus-Tanks, Kong and Jaws, were gone. Goliath – the biggest of all the MBTs and the show’s flagship vehicle – was still there, parked in the same spot beside the back wall.

  “Diesel? Come here boy.”

  It felt like the devil was tap-dancing inside Nolan’s skull.

  “Where are you?”

  Nolan’s eyes landed on a dark shape lying in the center of the parking lot. A black puddle surrounded this lumpy shape, giving the appearance of something big submerged in a shallow pool of oily liquid.

  “No!”

  Nolan managed to climb to his feet, staggering across the parking lot like the zombies in his TV show. He stopped beside the dark shape. All he could hear now was the sound of his rapid-fire breathing. The sound of Hollywood burning had fizzled to silence.

  Nolan picked the dead dog off the ground. Diesel was heavy but Nolan had carried him hundreds of times before and he’d carry him now too. The dog’s limpness, the way his shiny black legs dangled lifelessly in midair was worse than a knife to the heart.

  He stood there, his face buried deep in Diesel’s cold, damp coat.

  When Nolan finally lifted his head the fog had cleared.

  He remembered everything. He remembered who was responsible for this.

  Chapter 2

  Axel Jones and his friends hurried along Santa Monica Boulevard as the bombs fell from the sky.

  The lights in Hollywood went on and off with every explosion, as if someone was messing around with the universal circuit breaker. Light then dark, then light. It was both dizzying and disorientating.

  Twelve-year-old Axel ran at the head of the quartet, his long, spindly legs putting him easily out front. Everyone always said that Axel would make a fine sprinter and that if they ever made a movie of Usain Bolt’s life, Axel was just the kid to portray the Olympic legend as a gangly youngster. But it was mostly white kids who said that – the sort of white kids who thought that all black kids looked the same.

  Still, he was a damn good runner.

  Axel steered his friends through the maze of despair that was Hollywood. The streets were jam-packed, spilling over with hordes of frightened people trying to make their way to safety. It was a nightmare scenario. Axel and the others pushed their way through a giant carnival of terror. The noise was ceaseless – hundreds and thousands of voices converging into one dissonant minor chord wail. Families had to work extra hard to stay together. Fathers and mothers grasped their children tight, some of them praying out loud as they ran.

  People joined forces for the most part, encouraging a spirit of cooperation that rejected the temptation of anarchy. But that temptation, which reached out to some of the poor and disenfranchised in La La Land, as well as the criminals and opportunists, had its takers too.

  The looters were hard at work, taking advantage of a noticeable police absence to bulldoze their way into unmanned stores. Didn’t mat
ter what the stores sold, be it sporting goods, electronics, groceries or whatever, this attack was a golden ticket, a chance to shop for free. So while others ran for their lives the looters pushed shopping carts along the street, protecting their haul from those who would rob thieves.

  Some people hid behind masks. Most didn’t.

  Axel slowed down so his friends could catch up with him. As he waited he saw a fat white woman running out of a burning storefront with a brand new Dyson in her hand. She was wielding the box over her head with superhuman strength like it was toy.

  “FRANKIE!” she yelled. “FRANKIE I GOT ONE BABY!”

  Thirteen-year-old Kasey Hunter caught up with Axel first. She was breathing heavily, sweat dripping down her face. Her long red hair complimented the scorched backdrop.

  The other two boys in the gang, Lars Murphy and Charlie Roth, caught up with their friends a few seconds later. They were twelve and fourteen respectively. Lars was a videogame fanatic, a short tubby kid whose idea of a strenuous workout was reaching for a donut during Call of Duty. Running through the streets tonight had – so far at least – come closer to killing Lars than the bombs falling from the sky.

  Charlie was stick thin – a highly intelligent but frail boy who’d been permanently sick as a young child. Books had been Charlie’s childhood friends, his bedside companions, and while his body had failed his mind had soared through the pages, soaking up crystalized wisdom and the imaginative worlds of others. Charlie was a straight A student, but one that still managed to be likeable to the average kid. That was no mean feat.

  Axel adjusted the blue and white Dodgers cap on his head. There was a malevolent breeze drifting across the city and it wanted that hat.

  “You taste that?” he said. “The frigging air’s contaminated or something.”

  “Rancid,” Kasey said, putting her shirtsleeve over her nose and mouth. She stared wide-eyed up at the sky. “I think those jets that hit us are moving away. Axel? What do you think?”

  Axel shrugged. Like everyone else, Kasey wanted the reassurance that it was over.

  “Maybe,” he said. It was all he could say.

  The aerial bombardment did appear to be traveling southeast. Staying on that course would take it towards Downtown LA. Looking up, Axel saw a pack of fighter jets racing through a red sky, tiny black specks that glowed under the spectacular wreckage of Hollywood.

  Kasey coughed into the back of her hand.

  “C’mon guys,” she said. “A lot of people are going to Melrose, to Paramount. That’s what I’m hearing anyway. It’s not that far and there’s gotta be help over there doncha think? Considering who was there tonight.”

  Charlie nodded. “They must have hit here first because they knew he was here. Has to be.”

  “Who’s they?” Lars said. “Who are we talking about? Who’s doing this to us?”

  “Never mind that now Lars,” Kasey said. “Let’s just deal with the facts we know. We can’t go home, none of us. Everything around Oakwood is toast, we know that much from what we saw and what others told us who were on their way outta there. We also know that the President was at the Paramount Party tonight, which means there’s gotta be some kind of police or security down there. Right? Well if that’s true, that’s where we need to go.”

  Charlie scowled at Kasey. “Oakwood is not toast. Don’t say that Kasey. My mom is…”

  He stopped, gasping for breath.

  “She’s…alive.”

  Axel gave his friend a pat on the back. “I’m sorry man.”

  And yet Axel’s mom was in Oakwood too. Why didn’t he give a shit like Charlie gave a shit about his old lady? Axel figured his mom was too drunk to even notice the attack. When the bombs hit she probably thought that someone in the nearby apartments had turned their TV up too loud. The attack did sound like a war movie, no doubt about that. Or maybe she was sleeping on the couch and never knew what hit her.

  He clenched both fists tight. Took another hit of that stinking hot air.

  Kasey’s situation at home wasn’t much better. She had a junkie mom and brother who were both barely half-alive. She hadn’t mentioned them once since the attack, at least not yet. Axel figured she had to be thinking about them, right?

  The truth was however, that only Charlie and Lars had families worth grieving over.

  Someone bolted past the gang. A man with a shaved head and goatee was running down the street in a chaotic zigzag pattern. Pushing his way past people. Starting, stopping, starting and stopping all over again. He was naked except for a pair of white underpants.

  The man stared up at the sky, holding up the sign of the cross. Even though he was as ripped as a bodybuilder and could have easily passed for a Marvel superhero, he made a whimpering noise, like a frightened child fleeing the closet monster.

  “I can’t take much more of this,” Lars said, bug-eyed with fear. He was watching the man’s spiral into madness, unable to look away. “I can’t…”

  “Let’s go,” Axel said, clapping his hands together. “Gotta keep moving. Gotta keep running.”

  They ran.

  Most of the streetlights on Santa Monica Boulevard had been snuffed out like candles in the rain. A few flickered here and there but it was the burning buildings that provided most of the night-light over Hollywood.

  “How…could this…happen to us?” Lars gasped, spitting out words as he ran.

  The world had turned into one of Lars’s beloved video games. Here it was in three-dimensional reality and with extra sharp teeth. Unfortunately this particular game – Run from the Death Planes – was a game that couldn’t be switched off when mom called you down to dinner.

  “This is America,” Lars said. “How…can they just attack us…out of nowhere?”

  Axel had one hand on his baseball cap as he ran.

  “Because our President’s an asshole,” he yelled. “Worst ever. No wonder they want to impeach his ass.”

  But Lars wasn’t listening.

  “This is America man,” he said. “We’re not some backwater swamp country in the asshole of Asia. You can’t just sneak up on us. Not us.”

  “Shut up Lars!” Kasey yelled. “Holy shit man. Shut up or I’m going to punch you I swear to God.”

  An explosion shook the ground under their feet. The blast happened somewhere in between Hollywood and Downtown LA.

  “Oh shit!” Charlie screamed.

  “Keep running!” Kasey yelled.

  Axel spun around for a second, watching the sky light up as if the world’s biggest fireworks display was taking place tonight. That last explosion had happened in the vicinity of his beloved Dodgers Stadium. His heart sank. Dodgers Stadium always made him think of his dad and their trips to see the baseball, at least once a month back in the good old days. Thank God the old man wasn’t around to see this. It would break his heart to see Dodgers Stadium reduced to a pile of smoking rubble, which surely it just had been.

  Lars’s eyes ballooned with terror. “Where’s the police?” he wailed. “Where’s the army? Why is no one stopping this?”

  Charlie’s face was strangely calm.

  “They’re gone,” he said in between wheezy breaths. “At worst, obliterated. At best, scattered and in chaos. This thing, it’s HUGE Lars. My guess – they went after military and law enforcement targets and everything after that is a bonus. Besides, with no law and order, they’ll leave us to destroy ourselves. Look at all the people we’ve seen looting already.”

  “You’re a real ray of sunshine,” Kasey said, glaring at Charlie. “I hope I never get trapped in an elevator with you.”

  Charlie shrugged. “You heard any sirens tonight Kasey? See any soldiers? Any ambulances?”

  Kasey didn’t answer.

  Axel was convinced he could smell the scent of burning flesh in the air. Worse than that, he could taste it. He wanted to double over and throw up. But to go down with all these people running around the streets, it was suicide. Death by stampede was a real poss
ibility tonight.

  “Melrose Avenue,” Kasey said, leading the sprint now. She pumped her arms and legs like a pro. “Right? We’re going to make it guys.”

  Axel nodded. “Right.”

  About a minute later, Lars pulled up, a hand pressed tight against his side. His head looked like it was about to pop.

  “I don’t know how much more I can run,” he gasped. “I feel…feel like my heart’s going to explode.”

  Kasey skidded the heels of her sneakers to a stop on the sidewalk. She turned around, her face glowing like she’d been scrubbing it for days. She walked back over to Lars, loosening the collar of her Adidas hoodie, wafting both sides like a fan.

  “I got an idea,” she said. “Might cut some time off the journey.”

  Lars shook his head. “I can’t run Kasey. I just can’t.”

  “Yes you can.”

  “I can’t.”

  “What if we cut through Hollywood Forever?” Kasey said, directing the question to Axel more than Lars. There was a hopeful look on her face, which seemed at odds with the dire circumstances that surrounded them. “That’ll shave time off won’t it?”

  “Shortcut?” Charlie said.

  “Yeah,” Axel said. “It’s a shortcut alright. If we go through Hollywood Forever I reckon we’ll come out on Melrose. Or as near as dammit. That right Charlie?”

  Charlie thought it over for a second. His mouth was moving, mumbling silent syllables.

  “Yeah.”

  “Hollywood Forever?” Lars said, his bottom lip trembling. “But that’s a cemetery and it’s dark out. Are you guys crazy?”