Armageddonville -Book Five

By Jay El Mitchell

For a while, Thomas Sullivan had it all. A career as a successful novelist, upcoming movie based on one of his books, engaged to a beautiful actress. It all seemed too good to be true, and was. Following the discovery of his fiancee's Infidelity, Sully left it all behind to take a six-week "vacation" to his grandfather's mountain cabin with only his dog Sterling for company. After completing his intoxicant-filled emotional rehab, he returns to town -and to a nightmare. Something has gone horribly wrong during his weeks as a recluse, and it is only now that he realizes that while he was trying to shut the world out, the world ended, and he missed it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jay El Mitchell
• Release date: Jul 31, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310225871

Jay El Mitchell

I am a carbon-based life form who has been on this planet for nearly 30 years. I live near the beach (east coast) and enjoy it, primarily after sunset. I am lactose intolerant but love ice cream. Upon my death I plan to be cremated, with half of my ashes thrown directly into Nancy Graces's unsuspecting face (I have a curse in the works) and the other half kept in an old condiment jar in the back of the pantry.

Book preview

Armageddonville: Book Five

Jay El Mitchell

Copyright by Jay El Mitchell 2014

Smashwords Edition

Note to readers: this is part five of a continuing series.

We spent the next week between the cabin and Fosston. Occasionally we still talked about finding other survivors but it was always a fleeting, stilted conversation because it inevitably led to the same conclusion: the only method we could devise was a standard search and find, but we knew Elby would not stay behind. This meant we either had to accept and deal with the likelihood of her unsafety or abandon all attempts at finding others. This was too depressing, so for a while we just ignored it.

It became clear very quickly that the cabin was not intended to be a long-term residence for three people, unless they were involved in some sort of polyamorous situation. There really was no privacy, and it seemed as if the bathroom was always occupied. Having been an only child, this was a new experience for me.

We found a twin mattress set for Mason as well as a weightlifting set. There really wasn’t room for it but I could tell it was important for him to have so I didn’t say anything. I soon found that the worst part about someone pumping iron near you in a small space isn’t just the clanking weights or the unpleasantly suggestive grunting sounds. It’s the smell. A sweaty, meaty man smell. When he started lifting I usually found an excuse to be outside.

Aside from lifting, Mason also jogged. He often went for a jog in the early morning before it got too hot and muggy. Sometimes Elby went with him, along with Sterling. I was invited but politely declined. I’m not a jogging guy. Not really an exercise guy at all when you get right down to it. I write, I contemplate, I plot. I don’t exert. To be honest I should probably weigh about three hundred pounds. I chalk it up to a naturally festive metabolism that I hope maintains its momentum with age.

Mason essentially took over my CB duties. He felt Connor might stumble upon our graffiti messages and decide to hop over to the emergency channel as instructed, attempting to con us into giving up our location. As he knew Connor’s voice, he wanted to be the one to intercept him. Although this was probably true, I knew some part of him was still holding onto the slimmest hope regarding his brother.

One morning while the other three were out for a jog I decided to pay Coop a visit. It had been a while since it was just the two of us, and I thought it might be a nice change of pace. I left a note on the counter explaining my whereabouts so Elby wouldn’t worry.

Since my SUV quit I’d taken unenthusiastic ownership of the dead perv’s truck. I knew it was just a vehicle but I still felt uncomfortable sitting in the driver’s seat, and not just because I had used the truck to dispose of a dead body. I didn’t like sitting where he sat, found myself occasionally wondering what might have occurred in this car and exactly where. It felt like the steering wheel was coated with invisible slime, abhorrent contaminates that made me not just want to coat my hands with sanitizer, but bathe my entire body in it.

As I slid behind the wheel I thought next time we leave town I’m getting a new truck and setting this one on fire.

By the time I got to Fosston the temperature had jumped up several notches, and was glad I’d remembered to grab my Dr. Grant hat. It might not be as cool as Mason’s, but it serves its purpose.

When I got of the truck, even before I put my feet on pavement, my heart started kicking up and my skin seemed to