Overboard: Deconstruction Book Four (A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller) Read online

  OVERBOARD

  DECONSTRUCTION

  BOOK FOUR

  By Rashad Freeman

  Copyright © 2017 by Rashad Freeman

  www.rashadfreeman.com

  [email protected]

  www.facebook.com/rashadthewriter

  Twitter: @RashadFreeman

  http://ask.fm/writerrashad

  Click here to join the mailing list for access to special features, new releases and the monthly newsletter.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without the expressed written consent of the author.

  AUTHOR’S INSIGHT ON THE FIRST FOUR

  When I started this series, as with most books I write, I started with a simple idea that wasn’t much of anything. Disaster happens and how would a regular family react. Too many times I’ve read stories of guys that have it all figured out. Guys with years of experience surviving, hunting and living outdoors. That’s great, but not the norm, so I wanted to write a book from the average Joe’s perspective.

  All along I believed this was simply a survival story with a bit of conspiracy twist. But now, it’s morphed into something else and while the original storyline hasn’t changed the depth of the series has increased dramatically.

  Book One, Dust to Dust, isn’t only about Randall’s struggle with his own mortality, but towards the end I think readers begin to see how deeply flawed he is. His insecurities become anchors that weigh him down, but present themselves in the form of arrogance, bordering on self-destruction. He doesn’t know what he doesn’t know and that scares him, but he’s unable to accept that. So instead he attacks anyone that appears to know more than he does.

  Book Two, The Mayflower Project, touches on a new dynamic. The world is still falling apart, but it’s internal struggles that really spell doom for this group. Max is trying to find balance between his highly secretive job and his blossoming relationship with Cindy. I hope that while readers deal with the destruction on the surface they can also see the destruction within. Cindy and Max are both flawed and its these lies and deception that do the real damage. In every title something different is dying along with the world. In the Mayflower its Max’s idea of love.

  Book Three, Flight Plan adds a new dimension to the series. We take a noble idea and turn it on its head. MJ is tasked with keeping the masses uninformed. I heard in a movie once that “a person is smart, people are stupid.” That rings too true to me and is ultimately the motivations of a just government. It’s the difference between telling one person there’s a bomb and screaming it aloud in an airport. So, while the struggle is to find the balance and maintain order this book deals with how that can be tainted by men with evil intentions. MJ becomes the instrument of that deception, ultimately putting her at odds with her own morality.

  And then we have Book Four, Overboard. I’d hate to spoil it for you, so I’ll simply say that this book examines the death of youth. It is our very childhood that is under assault and the idea of a black and white threshold between that and adulthood.

  Thank you for sticking with the series this far. I’ve enjoyed writing this and will certainly miss these characters once it’s all said and done, but until then…enjoy.

  “Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does. Love is a battle. Love is a war. Love is growing up.” – James A. Baldwin

  “Everything I was afraid of growing up, I ‘ve become. I’ve taken on my nightmares, like the devil and the end of the world, and I’ve become those things.” – Marilyn Manson

  CHAPTER 1

  LIKE WE’RE GONNA DIE YOUNG

  “Keep an eye on your brother,” my mom said like it was some new instruction.

  I’d been “keeping an eye on my brother,” since he could walk. Making sure he didn’t swallow pennies or stick scissors into electrical outlets. I was singlehandedly responsible for him making it to fifteen.

  “Mom, he’s good. It’s a teen club not an Al Qaeda training camp.”

  “That’s not funny Daniel.”

  “It kind of is,” Trevor chimed in.

  “I’m serious guys. Chloe is at the kid’s club and me and your father are going to the spa. I don’t need to get called about how you two tried stealing a lifeboat.”

  “Mom!” I gasped. “I’d never thought of something like that. But good idea.

  She screwed her face into a tart expression and stared at the ceiling before grabbing the door handle. “Be back in this room by 11pm. Or else!”

  I groaned as she slammed the door behind her. Trevor jumped up and grabbed his shoes and slid them on without socks. I wrinkled my nose and made a gagging noise.

  “Dude, your feet already smell like Fritos,” I told him.

  “They’re boat shoes dick. You don’t wear socks with them.”

  “You don’t own a boat.”

  “I’m on a boat.”

  “So, you bought those just for this stupid cruise?”

  “You’ll never understand fashion.” He held his hands out toward me and mumbled, “Exhibit A.”

  “Whatever.”

  Rolling over, I looked out of the porthole and wondered what the rest of my friends were doing back in Orlando. Anything was better than this.

  A pre-Christmas cruise to some obscure island was not my idea of fun. It was my senior year and while all my friends were having parties and enjoying the break, I was stuck on a boat, crashing through waves like I’d joined the cast of Deadliest Catch.

  Two whole weeks, two long, dreary weeks, sailing the seven seas. That was my Christmas gift. They didn’t even think to ask us what we wanted. It certainly wasn’t the open ocean, all I really wanted was a car. But no, according to my mom, “experiences” were worth more.

  I stared out at the deep, blue water. The ship carved through it, stirring the aqua hue to a frothy white tail. It was all that I could see in any direction. Miles and miles of water, slowly swallowing the sun.

  It was crazy how quickly you could get lost and leave the world behind. But the ocean was only cool for so long. A party with college freshman and two kegs on the other hand, that didn’t ever get old.

  “So, what are we really doing?” Trevor asked with a sinister grin on his face.

  “What do you think we’re doing?”

  “I don’t know, ditching that stupid teen club and finding a bar to sneak into with some real women.”

  “Real women?” I echoed with a laugh. “What the hell do you know about real women Trevor?”

  “Oh, I know tons. I’ll teach you a thing or two.”

  I grabbed a pillow off the bed and chucked it at him. “We’re going to the stupid teen club Trevor. Where we go after that, we’ll just have to see.”

  “Now you’re talking.”

  I rolled off the bed and headed for the bathroom, but Trevor jumped up and raced inside first. He tried to slam the door, but I managed to stick my foot into the crack and nearly lost a toe for my troubles.

  “Damn it Trevor!” I shouted in pain. “Come on man, stop being an asshole.”

  “Dude you don’t need to get ready. You look the same no matter what you do. Move your foot.”

  “No! Get out.”

  “I’ll be quick, I swear.”

  I knew that was a lie, but
my big toe was throbbing, and I wasn’t in the mood. So, I slid my foot out and fell back onto the closest bed.

  Staring up at the ceiling, I crossed my hands behind my head and blew air through my lips like a grumbling engine. I thought of a million places I’d rather be and none of them were surrounded by water.

  What the hell were my parents playing at anyway? I hated the water. I hated the ocean. Hell, I hated the swimming pool in our backyard. This may have been a vacation for them, but for me it was torture.

  I’d only learned to swim a year ago and by swim I meant perfected the doggy paddle. Trevor was the one that thought he was Michael Phelps. I was happy to hang out in the hot tub.

  Sometimes I felt like I was adopted. My mom was a swimmer, my dad was a swimmer, my sister had won the Junior Olympics last year as an eleven-year-old. Her 100-meter fly was so fast, we were all just waiting on her Nike endorsement deal.

  Then there was me. I’d nearly drowned twice growing up. Once, Chloe had to save me. There is nothing worse in middle school than getting pulled out of the community pool by your eight-year-old sister.

  “Damn you look good,” Trevor’s voice boomed from the bathroom.

  He’d been in there for nearly fifteen minutes. Knowing him, he’d probably gone through two bottles of cologne and had enough product in his hair to stop a bullet.

  “Stop jerking off and let’s go ass clown,” I yelled and beat on the door.

  “I’m coming,” he shouted back.

  Five minutes later he finally stepped out and I pushed past him to get inside. Closing the door, I turned and looked into the mirror. I stared at my reflection for a second, a seventeen-year-old, with ruffled brown hair and hazel eyes stared back at me.

  “It’s only two weeks,” I mumbled. “Two weeks and then you’re back in O-town.”

  Yawning, I splashed water on my face then ran my fingers through my hair. This was as good as it was going to get. Trevor was right, I didn’t really need to get ready.

  Opening the door, I found him standing right outside with a stupid grin on his face.

  “We’re gonna get some booty, we’re gonna get some booty,” he sang while thrusting his hips into some imaginary co-ed.

  I shoved him out of my way and grabbed the key card. “You know you’re adopted right?”

  “Yeah, I know. That’s why I’m the hot one.”

  Laughing, we left our room and headed down the hall to the elevator. The teen club was on the Lido deck, along with a lounge and a game room, all reserved for the fifteen to seventeen crowd. They did what they could to keep us out of the way, so the adults could do as they pleased.

  The halls were long and narrow with doors on either side. A ratty, green carpet ran the length of the floor and combined with the gold fixtures it looked like they came straight from a seventy’s porno flick.

  The end of the hall opened as we turned toward the elevators and stairs. There weren’t too many people out, but there weren’t too many people on the ship at all. Some kind of weather scare had resulted in hundreds of cancellations. It turned out that the forecast was all wrong, but the damage had been done.

  As we neared the elevators, the ship rolled a little bit and listed slightly to the side. I placed my hand against the wall to steady myself and waited for it to pass.

  “Is that normal?” Trevor asked.

  “How would I know? I’ve been on just as many ships as you.”

  Trevor flipped me the middle finger then walked off. A few drunk couples past us, stumbling with their shoes in their hands, trying to balance drinks and find their room cards.

  “It’s early,” I said with a laugh then stepped onto the cart and pressed the amber button for the next deck.

  Some Billy Joel song played in the background. He was crooning about sailing a boat and fishing or something. I guess it was fitting if you were into old guys depressing you.

  I leaned back against the wall and sighed. Trevor straightened himself up and started messing with his hair. The doors doubled as mirrors and Trevor never missed an opportunity to check himself out.

  “You think there’ll be some hot chicks?” he asked as he slicked down his eyebrows.

  “Maybe…none of them are gonna want you.”

  He smirked as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. We stepped into the wide hall and followed the signs for Club O2. I could hear the music playing from around the corner and the chants from the excited crowd about how we were going to “die young.”

  “Holy shit!” Trevor snapped. “Maybe we don’t have to leave this place after all.”

  Through the glass doors we could see to the dancefloor. A strobe light pulsed to the beat of the music as seven or eight girls twirled around, wearing ripped up jean shorts and bikini tops. We opened the doors and a fog machine went off, filling the room with a dense mist like we’d just entered the set of a music video. I couldn’t lie, it felt cool.

  There were only two other guys in the entire club and they were sitting near the back wall alone. One looked like he was missing his PlayStation controller. His beady eyes jittered from the dance floor to the exit door like a ping pong game. I could tell being there wasn’t his idea and as soon as we walked in he flicked his greasy, black hair and stormed out.

  The other guy was scowling at the dance floor like it’d just broken his heart. He looked in desperate need of a friend or therapy. Probably both, but he wasn’t gonna find that here.

  “Come on,” I tapped Trevor and headed toward the back.

  “Why? The girls are that way,” he protested.

  I ignored him and made my way to the back of the room. I figured the guy might as least have a clue what was going on and I had no intention of walking onto a landmine. Girls could do that.

  “So, what’s the deal here?” I asked.

  “Huh?” he said in a deep baritone voice and slowly lifted his head. A handful of loose curls fell over his freckled face.

  “What’s going on in here?”

  “You see it. Sherry and her tramp squad doing what they do best.” He pointed at a lean blonde girl that looked like a body double for Jennifer Lawrence.

  Trevor started to laugh. “Dude! How you gonna be mad at that?”

  I glanced at him then shook my head. “My name’s Daniel and this idiot is my brother, Trevor.”

  “Reggie,” he said and stared back and forth between us. “You guys twins or something?”

  We got that a lot. We did resemble each other after all. Trevor was a few inches shorter than me, but had the same hair, same eyes and I guess his face was a bit like mine, but had a permanent stupid look etched across it.

  “Nah, just brothers,” I replied. “So, this Sherry, is that your ex?”

  “Hell no!” Reggie growled. “My friend, Chase, used to date her. Now he’s at the pool with her best friend, McKinsey.”

  “This teen shit sounds like a soap opera,” Trevor chimed in. “All you guys decided to go on vacation together?”

  “It’s a church group.”

  Trevor shrugged then looked at me with a sarcastic face. Grinning, he ran his fingers through his hair then turned and started heading toward the dance floor.

  “Where are you going?” I called after him.

  “You heard him, Sherry is fair game and dude she’s hot and she’s a church chick. This place was made for me.”

  Without a second thought, Trevor sped across the floor and started dancing in the middle of their little circle. The girls looked at each other then laughed and started to dance with him. He was in his element, it never did take long for him to steal the show.

  Reggie cursed under his breath then looked away. I guessed there was more to the story than he was letting on. Like Trevor said, teen shit was a soap opera.

  “What’s going on at the pool?” I asked.

  “What?” he replied in an annoyed tone.

  “You said your friend and that McKinsey chick went to the pool. Anyone else out there?”

&nb
sp; “I guess, not my crowd though.”

  “Is this your crowd?”

  “Look man,” he started, but was interrupted by Trevor.

  “Hey Daniel, the girls want to go swimming and I think Sherry is digging me,” he huffed as he stumbled toward us, trying to catch his breath.

  “Swimming at the pool?”

  “Where else idiot? Let’s go.”

  “That’s probably a bad idea,” Reggie mumbled then tilted his head to the side and looked up at the ceiling. “But, on the other hand…she deserves it.”

  I thought about asking Reggie why he hated Sherry so much since they never dated. But I didn’t care enough to put together the sentence. Instead, I fell in line and followed the bikini train out to the pool.

  We’d barely made it onto the deck when I figured out who McKinsey and Chase were. There were about a dozen more kids splashing around in the water, chicken fighting and wrestling. But two of them had slipped away from the rest of the group and were tangled together like a pair of mating squid.

  Chase was a bulky guy, probably played lineman for his high school football team. His black, hair was cut in a low mohawk and judging from the stubble on his chest, I figured he was one of those guys that shaved it. He was obviously a jock, but I had a tough time figuring out how he ever landed a girl that looked like Sherry.

  McKinsey on the other hand, put them both to shame. She looked mixed or maybe Dominican and was by far the hottest girl I’d seen on the entire ship. Her hair was mahogany brown and wavy, coming to a point in the middle of her back. Her skin had a deep, bronze tan and her long, lean legs reminded me of the girls’ Brazilian volleyball team.

  “That’s McKinsey?!” Trevor and I said in unison, but our shock was short-lived.

  “Chase!” Sherry roared. “Are you fucking kidding me.”

  “Are you kidding me? It’s a free world,” Chase barked then turned toward Reggie. “Man…really? Not even a heads up?”

  “Don’t look at me, this was the new guys idea.”