Omega Days by John L. Campbell

Author:John L. Campbell [Campbell, John L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Horror, Occult & Supernatural
ISBN: 9780425272633
Google: B7CtngEACAAJ
Amazon: 042527263X
Publisher: Berkley
Published: 2013-01-01T11:00:00+00:00

They were camped in the southbound lanes of I-80, right at the top of the on-ramp, a cluster of pickups with campers, minivans and an honest-to-God VW bus with a peace symbol painted on its face between the headlights. Evan was on top of them before he realized it. A bearded man in denim and a woven, hooded pullover stepped out from behind a panel van and pointed a lever-action Winchester at him. He almost put the bike down, braking hard and sliding, the rear tire threatening to slip out from underneath him, but he managed to stop without crashing. A woman with a headband and a long braid appeared pointing a double barrel shotgun. His own was slung on his back, and he knew he’d be dead before he got his hands on it.

“You be cool, we’ll be cool,” called a man’s voice. Evan looked up to see a guy in his fifties standing on top of the VW bus, wearing camouflage shorts and hiking boots, a denim vest over a bare chest, and an Australian outback hat with a feather in it. A black assault rifle hung around his neck on a sling, and his hands were draped over it. A pistol and a big knife were belted at his waist, and a grenade hung from a thong around his neck.

Evan raised his hands slowly. “I’m cool.”

The man on the bus had a scruffy beard and wore round sunglasses. “If you don’t bring aggression, you won’t find any here. What’s your name?”

“Evan Tucker.”

“Are you scouting for a bigger group?”

He shook his head. “I’m on my own.”

The guy with the hooded pullover approached and looked him over closely. “I don’t see a radio.”

The leader slid off the bus and approached. The other two didn’t lower their weapons, and Evan saw more people peering at him from around the ends of vehicles, men and women, kids too. It seemed everyone over the age of ten was armed.

“So, Evan Tucker.” The leader stopped in front of the Harley. “Who were you before nature decided to take it all back?”

He shrugged. “Just traveling. I’m writing a book. I was.”

“Tourist guide? Self-help?” He raised an eyebrow. “Cook book?”

Evan grinned and blushed. “Road stories, my thoughts and philosophies. Like Kerouac, I guess.”

The man’s face split with a smile. “The rogue of the road!” He extended a hand and Evan shook it. “Welcome,” he said. “Poets are most welcome. I’m Calvin. This,” he swept an arm, “is the Family.” When Evan’s face betrayed a sudden worry, Calvin laughed and leaned in. “Not cult-family or any Manson nonsense, dude. Good family. And lots of us actually are related.”

With their leader accepting of the newcomer, the people who had been hiding and watching came out to greet him, and Evan was more than a little surprised at their warmth. After introductions were made (he knew he’d never remember all their names, although he had heard an “America,” a “Sunshine” and a “Little Bear,”) about a quarter of the adults went back to stand watch at positions set up in a ring around the little camp.

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