Free Fall of the Mortals (Book 1) by Ken Bush Page B

being a police officer handling a traffic accident. One of the drivers involved had a Lotus that was wrecked. The driver was a handsome guy in his thirties wearing a nice jacket, Rolex and expensive sunglasses. He was talking non-stop on his cell phone. The driver of the other car, a beat-up, crappy minivan, was a Hispanic woman who had three children with her. She was older, didn’t’ speak English, wore shabby clothing and was badly injured. The driver of the Lotus stepped over to him.
    “ Officer, is this, like, going to take all freaking day? ”
    “ We’ll be done when it’s done ,” Shaun responded.
    “ I need to be done here in, like, five minutes, dude ,” said the snob driver.
    “ It ain’t happening. As you can see, the other driver is injured. So you’ll need to be patient, sir ,” said Shaun, standing in the yuppie’s face and adding some crust in his voice.
    The driver got the firm message Shaun relayed through his body language. He stepped away and went back to his car. Shaun felt a sense of satisfaction telling off the selfish jerk as he waved in the fire engine that arrived for medical attention. He overheard the jerk in the background yell, “ You just cost me five hundred kay, copper! ” The Lotus driver blurted, in an irritated tone, “ I hope you’re happy! ”
    Shaun ignored the prick and his horrible remark. He was more deplored at his lack of care for another human being. It’s that kind of crap that’s going to bring the end of mankind; when people stop giving a rat’s ass about the next guy and are only concerned with their money and possessions, he thought.
    Now all that mattered was people —people helping each other defend themselves against the vampires. He pondered how he and the others at the tower weren’t just people either, they were a family and they cared about each other, although they got on each other’s nerves. How strange it is that the value of people rises when we’re in a crisis, he thought.
    Shaun cruised down the freeway thinking of the hardware store in Ventura. He hoped there was a pickup truck in the vicinity to load up what he needed. If not, his only chance was to use the stores manager’s truck, providing there was a key in the office. 
    There was a large pile of wrecked cars ahead. Some of them had dead passengers hanging out the windows. He maneuvered to the left. More demolished cars and a truck blocked the roadway. Oil and gasoline were spilled on the road. He came in too fast. There was no way around them. He hit the brakes. The motorcycle went out of control, skidding on the oil. The dirt bike struck one of the wrecked cars head on. Shaun was thrown off of his bike over the cars. He flew through the air fearing the hard landing. The impact of his dirt bike caused a spark on the pavement. The gas and oil spill went up in flames. Shaun landed on one of the other of the cars on his back. His head hit the pavement and he went unconscious. His dirt bike went back a few feet and fell over. The cars caught fire. The flames drew near him and the motorbike.
     
    ***
     
    A few hours later, Harold called everyone to dinner. He noticed Shaun wasn’t there.
    “Where’s Shaun?” he asked.
    “We don’t know,” said Chris. “He took off on his bike a few hours ago.”
    Harold was worried. He looked out the windows, it would be dark soon.
    “This isn’t good. This isn’t like Shaun,” he said, pacing nervously. “These going-out-in-the-daytime trips are really starting to stress me out.”
    “Where did he say he was going?” asked Betty.
    “Ventura,” stated Harold. “It’s almost an hour just to get there. He could be anywhere.”
    Harold looked at Betty. His eyes told her he had to go look for him. She knew he might not come back.
    “You better get out of here and go bring him back,” said Betty.
    “Give me the keys to the Ferrari,” said Harold, rushing to the doors.
    He opened a cabinet and loaded a 50 caliber Desert Eagle pistol.