Deconstruction- The Complete series Box Set Read online

  DECONSTRUCTION

  THE COMPLETE EDITION

  DECONSTRUCTION BOXSET

  BOOKS 1-6

  By Rashad Freeman

  Copyright © 2018 by Rashad Freeman

  www.rashadfreeman.com

  [email protected]

  www.facebook.com/rashadthewriter

  Twitter: @RashadFreeman

  http://ask.fm/writerrashad

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  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.

  Writing fiction has given me a chance to explore myself, my ambitions and my motivations in a deeper way. It's a therapeutic endeavor and in some ways, it's like taking a stroll through the cluttered forest of one's own mind and never coming out the other end. Wandering with no real purpose, picking up sticks or overturning stones, taking turns down long, dark paths and questioning everything from as many angles as possible. The more we strive to know, the more we realize how little we actually do.

  While my writing is entertainment I hope some find more than that. I hope through my stories some challenge themselves to become more inquisitive and curious. I hope that my words stir more questions than answers and push toward the goal of self reflection. In the end, these aren't simply stories, but opportunities for a greater discussion or a look into what if. I hope you enjoy.

  “Maybe it's always the end of the world. Maybe you're alive for a while, and then you realize you're going to die, and that's such an insane thing to comprehend, you look around for answers and the only answer is that the world must die with you.” – Jess Walter

  CHAPTER 1

  TIP OF THE ICEBERG

  I remember waking up that morning and thinking, turn that shit off. In retrospect, I had bigger things to worry about that day. In retrospect, I wish I would’ve embraced every horrid note, every complaint, every “he hit me,” every senseless argument and trivial question. I wish I’d spent my life being a better person.

  If only I’d known then what the world had in store. If I could’ve taken a glimpse into the future and had an inkling of the pain and suffering my family would endure. If I’d known the many ways I’d break their heart or how all my shortcomings as a father, as a husband would rip our family to pieces. If I would’ve known all that, I would’ve sat in that moment forever.

  But I didn’t. So, turn that shit off!

  Alistair, my oldest son, had taken the liberty of flooding the house with some of his "dance music." It sounded more like cats being drowned while someone kicked over garbage cans in the background.

  "Alistair!" I yelled. "Seriously?"

  "What? It helps me get dressed."

  "Too bad, turn it off now!"

  With a pained face, he thumbed through his Iphone, past his snapchats and insta-whatevers and found the music app. He glanced up at me with all the teenage contempt he could muster, then reluctantly hit the pause button.

  "You happy now?"

  "No, but at least I don't have to commit a homicide at six AM. It’s kinda early for that kind of stuff."

  He grinned and shrugged his shoulders. Then went back to rifling through his closet to find the perfect t-shirt that broadcasted his aversion to all things government. Alistair was that kind of kid, the buzzword they loved to use was socially conscious. So, unlike most kids his age, he knew who was running for the state senate and I guess that qualified him as some kind of political critic.

  He was sixteen going on thirty and had lived half of his life as an only child. I liked to think that explained some of his odd quirks, since he spent more time playing board games with me and my wife, than doing whatever kids did at that age. But the truth was, he was an old soul and I was more like his older brother than his father.

  "I killed a snake last night," he said casually.

  "What?"

  "It was swimming in the pool. I think it was poisonous so..." He made the universal motion for death, swiping his index finger across his throat with a gagging sound.

  "You feel better?"

  "Meh, just letting you know...dangerous things are out there."

  I laughed and headed into the hall. I could hear my wife up ahead waking up our two youngest, David and Charlie. They were eight and six respectively and the combination made for a ball of entertainment.

  "I'm tired," Charlie moaned.

  It was his daily argument before school. For reasons beyond me he could never get enough sleep and was all too eager to let everyone know it. He was a skinny kid, with a high-pitched voice and loose, curly hair. His drastic mood swings had earned him the nickname "Sour patch kid." You know, sour, sweet, gone.

  "Don't forget to grab pork chops on the way home," Melinda instructed.

  I nodded and stared at her for a few seconds with greedy eyes. Everything she said dripped with her Puerto Rican accent. I was happy for it, God knew my family was in serious need of some culture.

  "Say that again," I said.

  "Say what?"

  "Pork chops...it's sounds funny."

  She smiled, half amused, half annoyed. "Shut up Randall."

  I gave her a kiss on the cheek then headed into our room. I had exactly forty-five minutes to make it into the office and I was seriously slacking. But slacking was what I did best.

  I paused for a few and stared up at the TV. Some news anchor was on, talking about extreme weather headed our way. They used that term far too frequently, since in Florida everything was extreme.

  “If you keep an eye on the storm’s track, you can see it’s predicted to make landfall on the east coast as a category four. But, it could run into this warm weather pattern and possibly increase to a category five, making it the strongest storm to hit the east coast in recent history,” the blonde-haired woman said with as much certainty as a kid explaining the Pythagorean theorem in front of the entire class. “We expect to see a lot of localized flooding and some very extreme weather, so those in evacuation zones A through C should start looking for higher ground. Don’t wait, this is a massive system with the highest sustained wind speed we’ve ever seen. Damage from this storm will be off the charts.”

  I absolutely loathed people that could only speak in superlatives. The news was always trying to convince the world that death was around the corner. Be scared, do everything, do nothing, that was the message. How could anyone decipher the real crisis from the bullshit constantly flashing on the television.

  It was early December and our weather was doing its normal crazy act. That meant it was forty-five degrees when I woke up. Sixty degrees when I headed to work. Ninety degrees when I went to lunch and seventy-eight degrees with rain on my way home. I didn't think the weather could get much more extreme than that.

  I changed the channel as I pulled on my pants and laughed as the next anchor complained about our declining relations with Russia. Apparently, another world war was looming just behind our world-ending hurricane.

  It was pretty simple in my eyes, we didn't like them, they didn't like us, but we both had big guns so the whole mutually assured destruction, kept the balance.

  The news had me convinced that I wouldn’t live to be a grandfather anyway. If it wasn’t Russia it was North Korea and if it wasn’t either one of them
it was some idiot with a gun or gluten. Gluten might have been the scariest of them all.

  "I'm leaving," Melinda said from the doorway, pulling me out of my media haze.

  Turning away from the TV, I glanced over at her and whistled. Her medium, ash-colored hair was slightly curled and fell just below her shoulders. She was leaning against the doorframe, beaming at me with her deep, brown eyes like she was taking a picture for one of those racy department store magazines. I had a thing for the JC Penny catalog.

  I walked over and gave her a kiss then bumped my fist into Alistair’s. "Don't do too much world changing today huh," I said.

  Alistair laughed. "It's Friday...it's my day off."

  Melinda leaned in and whispered, "Don't forget the PORK CHOPS."

  Turning around, she giggled and headed out of the door. Alistair followed her as I finished getting David and Charlie ready for school. They groggily went through the motions, but eventually I was able to get them in the car and off to get their learning for the day.

  After that I headed for downtown where I worked as an IT Risk Manager for some sleazy financial management company. It wasn't much, but it kept the lights on and allowed the kids to stay busy with sports and what not.

  "You see the news this morning?" Steve asked as I walked into the break room.

  He was a fair skinned blonde guy that liked the gym more than he liked women. When he wasn't working out he was busy spray tanning which meant every other week his skin had a bizarre orange haze.

  "You talking about the shit with Russia?" I asked.

  "No, not that," he said dismissively.

  "The storm that's supposed to hit?" I guessed again.

  "What? No. There was an earthquake in Brooksville."

  I looked at him with a screwed-up face and laughed. One thing Florida was not known for was its earthquakes. I was certain Steve had heard wrong. Besides, I had a general idea of how earthquakes worked and I was certain we would've felt something being less than an hour away.

  "Steve, you've had one too many steroids. I don't know what news you were watching this morning."

  "I'm telling you man, I know what I saw."

  Shrugging, I left him in the break room and headed for my desk. I had a pile of audit requests to go over and his misunderstanding of the news would have to wait.

  "It's the end of the world Randall I'm telling you," he yelled after me with a laugh.

  As if on cue, a crackle of thunder erupted, and giant globs of water splashed to the ground outside. I looked back at Steve one last time and gave him the middle finger.

  Throughout the day, the general mood in the office was bleak and contentious. People griping about how hectic the ride home would be in the rain and staring out of windows as the roads turned into small rivers. It was nearly an all-out mutiny, any excuse to get out of work.

  This was the norm however. If it drizzled for longer than an hour the collecting rain became treacherous rapids that rendered motor vehicles useless. It wasn't out of place to see people skiing behind jacked-up trucks or paddling canoes down the road. Floridians had a unique perspective on what constituted a storm.

  I was wrapping up my tenth audit report when a crowd of folk gathered around one of the TV's near the lobby. They were all gasping and covering their mouths as if a suspense movie was playing. Annoyed, I stood up and went to find out what all the fuss was about. Hating myself, I gasped as well.

  The portly news anchor spoke erratically, constantly looking over his shoulder as the wind and rain whipped by. Debris sailed across the road behind him and street signs threatened to become missiles. I would’ve normally called bullshit, but the anchor really looked like he was hanging on for dear life out there.

  It looked like it was nighttime where he was, but it was a little past noon. His red raincoat was useless under the hail of water spears and his hand trembled as he held the microphone close to his mouth.

  "Again, a tornado has touched down in Manhattan!" he yelled over the roar of the wind. "Several buildings have been damaged and...wait, we have a report of another..." the signal suddenly went out.

  Just as his words died abruptly and people's mouths fell open, a series of three cacophonous booms rattled the walls inside of the office. The simultaneous flashes of lightning sent people rushing away from the windows as they cowered their heads in a frightful panic. The buzzing UV lights flickered, and I could hear the UPS pop from the data center one floor below.

  "Holy shit," Steve said and stopped beside me. "End of the world dude."

  "Steve shut up."

  "I know you don't give a shit, you've been waiting for this moment huh?"

  I rolled my eyes and watched the wind push around the palm trees outside. Steve chuckled then flagged down Jason and Lou, two more audit managers that worked in the office.

  "What do you think all this shit is about?" Lou asked.

  He was a tall, lanky guy with red hair and a habit of getting shitfaced then showing up to work the next day like nothing happened. While he was well into his forties, he certainly partied like he was trying to get into a frat.

  "It's Florida and it's raining," Jason replied.

  He was a dark skin guy with slowly graying hair. He was barely into his thirties, but this job had a way of aging folk.

  "Randall says he's got the bag ready to go," Steve added and shoved me on the arm.

  "You gonna give me shit about it forever? Ain't nothing wrong with being prepared."

  Jason laughed. "Your bug out bag huh? Had to give an emergency kit a cool name."

  "Emergency kits don't go bang," I replied. "Besides, zombies are gonna happen. You'll regret you didn't listen to me."

  They all shared a laugh at my expense, but my half-assed preparations were at least something. A hiking bag filled with the essentials: water, food rations, knives, a 9mm, ropes, flint rocks, flashlights etc. And a broom closet full of water and food survival buckets that would last for thirty years. I wouldn't call myself a prepper, but I had a healthy suspicion about our government's ability to keep me safe.

  "Don't listen to Randall, he's a poser," Lou laughed. "You ever been to the range with this idiot?"

  "No, why?" Jason asked.

  "Remember back when Eric came down to visit?"

  "The military guy?"

  "Yeah, he took us all shooting. Rambo here couldn't even load his own gun. Eric had to do it for him and when he finally did shoot, he couldn't hit a target from ten feet away."

  I groaned. "That was a long time ago you asshole."

  "You been since?"

  I chuckled and shook my head from side to side. "Doesn't mean I won't be ready when the zombies come."

  "You and this zombie shit," Steve replied. "And you don't think we had an earthquake in Brooksville?"

  "Oh, we did," Jason hopped in. "First one in like forever. Couple of people died."

  While Steve wasn't necessarily a source for sound information, Jason was normally reliable. So when he agreed I started to get a bit concerned.

  "Hey guys," a voice suddenly called from behind us.

  I turned to find Shannon Newlin, head of HR, standing a few feet away. She was rocking back and forth on her feet, certainly trying to disperse the weight that was focused on her tiny heels. Her upturned nose was all anyone ever needed to know about her, but with that she added a permanent scowl and shoddy, bleached blond hair.

  "What's up Shannon?" I asked.

  "Randall," she replied sharply. "Jason and Lou...and Steve," she finished.

  There was a rumor going on around the office that Shannon and Steve had hooked up. Steve denied it, for obvious reasons and no one was going to question the most evil HR lady in history. So, it would have to remain unconfirmed.

  "Emergency ops has reports of extreme thunderstorms," Shannon continued. "They're issuing a hurricane warning and evacuating flood areas. Needless to say, we're closing the office. Go home."

  CHAPTER 2

  THERE IS NO CALM BEFORE
THE STORM

  As I drove down the flooded streets I started to truly appreciate my gas guzzling Suburban. While other cars had to look for alternative routes, I sloshed through the rising streams like a tank. I passed several disabled vehicles on the way and the increasing waves of emergency responders made me wonder if maybe Steve was onto something.

  I pulled up to my house a little after three in the afternoon. Melinda had already picked up the kids and aside from the thunder and pounding rain it seemed like a normal day.

  "They cancelled school early," Melinda said as I walked inside. "I need to log on and wrap up a few things."

  Melinda was an operations manager for one of the big accounting firms. With a global workforce, even potential hurricanes didn't slow things down. So, working from home on her off time was kind of the norm.

  "Just hurry up. Don't stay in there for four hours or we're gonna eat dinner without you."

  Melinda chuckled then disappeared into the office. I headed into the kitchen and grabbed a bag of chips from the pantry.

  "I heard there was an earthquake somewhere around here," Alistair said.

  "Supposedly in Brooksville," I replied. "Is that what all of the cool kids are talking about these days?"

  Alistair shrugged. "Where's Brooksville?"

  "About an hour north of here. You hungry?"

  "I am!" David yelled as he cleared the corner.

  "When are you not?" Alistair jabbed. "Sooner or later you're gonna stop growing up and start growing out."

  David was the middle child and like all middle children he was special. Unlike Alistair and Charlie, he had straight hair, which meant it was better than everyone else's. He constantly spent hours in the restroom styling and parting it just right.

  He was big for his age and ever since the doctors had told him he'd be well over six foot four, he'd become intolerable. If you listened to him, he was already signed to an NBA team.

  "All this sage wisdom Alistair. You're like a mixed Buddha with bad hair," I said in David's defense.