Final Dawn: Season 1 (The Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Series) by Mike Kraus
Book: Final Dawn: Season 1 (The Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Series) by Mike Kraus
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Authors: Mike Kraus
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was virtually no interior damage aside from a few broken window panes and some shelves that had been knocked loose from their wall fittings. Overall the room was in excellent condition, and the place was tidy as well. A row of levers, buttons and computer screens lined the front of the station directly underneath the main windows. On the opposite side of the room from the door Leonard had entered through, a spiral staircase descended down into the maintenance room containing the diesel generators and other equipment that passed through the control room.
If memory served Leonard correctly, the emergency flashlights and headlamps were stored down in the maintenance room. As he understood it, the logic was that workers in the control room had emergency lighting that was sufficient to do their jobs, but the workers in the maintenance room below would need portable lights for any repairs that had to be carried out. Personally, Leonard thought this was a terrible system and had voiced complaints about the low number of emergency lights for years, but budget concerns outweighed most minor safety concerns.
Leonard walked over to the spiral staircase and carefully descended into the maintenance room, gripping the rail tightly as he walked, on guard for any structure problems. When he reached the bottom he squinted as he looked around, trying to make out any familiar shapes in the near-darkness. While there were a few emergency lights in the maintenance room, several of them appeared to be burned out. After a few minutes of looking, he eventually found his target: a larger white cabinet at the far end of the room. Leonard approached the cabinet and flung it open, a grin breaking out on his face as he saw its contents.
10:05 AM, March 29, 2038
Nancy Sims
Nancy peeked over the edge of the barn window and peered into the yard. She had laid motionless in the hay for what felt like hours. Even though the “thing” had long since departed, the hairs on the back of her neck were still raised and she was still concerned that it was out there, somewhere, waiting for her.
Her gaze darted back and forth over the yard, house, corn fields and highway beyond. There was no sign of “it.” After several more minutes of watching, she crawled to the ladder leading down into the barn, cautiously looking over the edge. Below her she could still hear the cows moving about in their stalls. Nothing looked or sounded amiss, so she began a slow descent into the barn, pausing after each creaky step to make sure there was nothing coming after her. Reaching the bottom of the ladder, she began to relax, feeling safer since she hadn’t seen anything or anyone.
Unsure what to do next, Nancy walked back across the yard to the house, glancing around as she went. She knocked on the door again, softly at first, then louder. There was still no answer. When she had arrived last night, this seemed a bit odd, but explainable. Today, though, after what she had seen, she was more suspicious. Weighing the odds of facing down a farmer with a shotgun versus standing around in his yard, Nancy opted for the more proactive approach. She reached for the door handle and turned, half-surprised when she was met with no resistance.
Nancy swung the door open, the smell of mothballs and apple pie greeting her as she took a step into the home. “Hello? Is anyone there?” she shouted. She didn’t hear a reply, or anything else for that matter. Taking this as permission to enter further, she walked through the doorway and closed the door behind her.
The house was well lit thanks to a large number of windows with shades that were all open. Directly in front of her was a wooden staircase leading to the second floor, while the living room lay to her right and the kitchen to her left. As she became used to the smell in the house, the mothballs were gradually replaced by a well-used and lived-in scent, clear indications that this was in no way an
If memory served Leonard correctly, the emergency flashlights and headlamps were stored down in the maintenance room. As he understood it, the logic was that workers in the control room had emergency lighting that was sufficient to do their jobs, but the workers in the maintenance room below would need portable lights for any repairs that had to be carried out. Personally, Leonard thought this was a terrible system and had voiced complaints about the low number of emergency lights for years, but budget concerns outweighed most minor safety concerns.
Leonard walked over to the spiral staircase and carefully descended into the maintenance room, gripping the rail tightly as he walked, on guard for any structure problems. When he reached the bottom he squinted as he looked around, trying to make out any familiar shapes in the near-darkness. While there were a few emergency lights in the maintenance room, several of them appeared to be burned out. After a few minutes of looking, he eventually found his target: a larger white cabinet at the far end of the room. Leonard approached the cabinet and flung it open, a grin breaking out on his face as he saw its contents.
10:05 AM, March 29, 2038
Nancy Sims
Nancy peeked over the edge of the barn window and peered into the yard. She had laid motionless in the hay for what felt like hours. Even though the “thing” had long since departed, the hairs on the back of her neck were still raised and she was still concerned that it was out there, somewhere, waiting for her.
Her gaze darted back and forth over the yard, house, corn fields and highway beyond. There was no sign of “it.” After several more minutes of watching, she crawled to the ladder leading down into the barn, cautiously looking over the edge. Below her she could still hear the cows moving about in their stalls. Nothing looked or sounded amiss, so she began a slow descent into the barn, pausing after each creaky step to make sure there was nothing coming after her. Reaching the bottom of the ladder, she began to relax, feeling safer since she hadn’t seen anything or anyone.
Unsure what to do next, Nancy walked back across the yard to the house, glancing around as she went. She knocked on the door again, softly at first, then louder. There was still no answer. When she had arrived last night, this seemed a bit odd, but explainable. Today, though, after what she had seen, she was more suspicious. Weighing the odds of facing down a farmer with a shotgun versus standing around in his yard, Nancy opted for the more proactive approach. She reached for the door handle and turned, half-surprised when she was met with no resistance.
Nancy swung the door open, the smell of mothballs and apple pie greeting her as she took a step into the home. “Hello? Is anyone there?” she shouted. She didn’t hear a reply, or anything else for that matter. Taking this as permission to enter further, she walked through the doorway and closed the door behind her.
The house was well lit thanks to a large number of windows with shades that were all open. Directly in front of her was a wooden staircase leading to the second floor, while the living room lay to her right and the kitchen to her left. As she became used to the smell in the house, the mothballs were gradually replaced by a well-used and lived-in scent, clear indications that this was in no way an
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