Seasons of the Apocalypse

By Shane Fields

The American Government is recovering from a civil war. Now in the future, there is one government. The Federal government unites the states into one state, called the United State, “One Nation under God.” It is a country with almost zero unemployment. A country where everyone has a place. Drugs and prostitution are legal. There are high taxes to be paid, and anyone not paying their debts is arrested by the nation’s secret task force: the collectors.
The world is engulfed in war, plague, and famine.
Seasons of the Apocalypse shows the journey
its occupants take living in this new world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dorrance Publishing Company
• Release date: May 20, 2024
• ISBN: 9798890276667

Book preview

Season One

Winter

Chapter One

It was another day at the White House. The president was young and confident. He was wearing a black suit and a red tie. He was sitting in his Oval Office eating pizza for breakfast. It was unhealthy; he usually ate nothing but good organic food. He worked out in the gym. He was very handsome and unmarried. He liked the vice president; he used to dream about getting with her when she was a movie star. Today he hated dealing with her because she looked at the small picture and was not a good leader. He drank his soda. Drinking a soda was bad for him but his stress level was at its limit.

A large black woman entered his office. It’s time, Mr. President, she replied.

The president walked down a long hallway and got into an elevator. He pressed the basement button and thought about what he was going to say in his meeting. The meeting would be regarding people rioting over the collections of people that were against the government and not paying their debts and taxes.

The President of the United States walked into his War Room. He sat down and started watching several television monitors. His military staff was present. The vice president was present. He was watching rioting in for cities. The was fire and chaos. It was regarding a collection team collecting people that the community thought was important. The president thought about the past and the food riots and the economic riots. He was determined not to have a failed term; he wanted to get reelected.

This is horrible. Can we tell the ministry of media, tell them to step up news about the ongoing wars in other countries? I want the Army in these cities now. Tell the media these were inspired by terrorists. Blame the nation of Islam. I’m sure we can prove some of these people have ties. Have collectors gather many of them for questioning. If they resist, use deadly force, the president replied.

These are civilians; they have the right to express their opinions, it is free speech. Most of these people’s family members and people that were close to them, the vice president replied.

The news could tell it that way, but arson, robbery, and murder is against the law. This will spread like a disease, I have seen it all before. We grew up with this type of lawlessness. We promised a stable future to our voters. Now all these deadbeats that don’t want to pay their bills are destroying everything.

The president paused, looking at the television screens.

LOOK, LOOK at that man beating a defenseless woman. Is this free speech? If I decided to beat the shit out of you, is that free speech? So, you’re saying we have the right to burn the city to the ground and beat the women. What’s next, raping the women? Free speech, right? the president shouted.

The vice president sat in silence. She looked down.

No, it’s all wrong. I was just trying to explain their behavior. I am not supporting any of it, Nancy replied.

 Secretary of Defense, get the troops activated now. This is a fucking national emergency.

It was a sunny day in Jacksonville, Florida, and Dana was waking up. She looked at her alarm clock. She always woke up ten minutes before her alarm went off.

The smell of fresh-brewed coffee filled her nostrils. She had set her coffee to be poured before she woke up, and she was now reaping the rewards. Sitting up and looking around her apartment, she was greeted with the color red and numerous houseplants.

Her roommate Roxy, an extremely attractive black woman, attended college to be a nurse. Currently, though, she worked at the Sam’s Department Store. Most stores had shut down, but Sam’s was one of the few that survived. It was a large open warehouse that was turned into a department store.

However, Dana sometimes felt uncomfortable with Roxy’s lesbianism; sometimes she would wait for Dana to undress or wake up early to make a pass at her, but she couldn’t afford the rent without her. Dana was glad her roommate did not hate her, and she was always there if she needed someone to talk to.

Today was her lucky day because Roxy was asleep. Dana grabbed her coffee and a bagel and rushed out as fast as she could to walk to work because she couldn’t afford a car. Her need to leave her apartment as soon as possible left her always with eating breakfast on the way to her job at the local gym. She tested applicants for health insurance. She had graduated from college to be a nurse, thinking she would help people. But instead, she had to work for the State for six years because she took a government loan to get through college. Some of her days she felt good about her job, but other days were incredibly sad. It was never a good day to tell anyone they were unfit. That meant they would lose their health insurance.

As she walked, she noticed on her phone that the Pakistan and Indian War was escalating, and India was threating to use nuclear weapons. Dana sipped her coffee and wondered, How long until the world falls apart?

It was February, and she hated the cold. As she neared the gym, she passed a bright red Corvette and wished she were rich and could afford such a car. Then she remembered it was Mr. Wright’s car. He was an overweight lawyer who always had a hard time passing his test due to his obesity. He barely passed the last test. She thought he was going to have a heart attack in the midst of it.

She walked through the waiting room and noticed Mr. Wright and Lina, an older applicant from Afghanistan. She had no car and rented a room from her coworker.

The gym consisted of several sections, with testing performed in each one. Each test was to help with insurance adjusting.

Dana thought about the stories she had heard of the gym. In the past, a gym was a place where people would work out to be in good shape. Women focused on toning their bodies, and men focused on increasing their strength and the size of their muscles. Some came to work out to reduce fat and live healthier lives. Others participated in fitness classes to socialize. The gym used to have a culture all its own but was now lost.

Both of her first clients were reading from their phones and acting calm, but they all knew they weren’t. Everyone hated the annual fitness review.

Dana instructed them both to submit a urine test and a blood test. She then drew blood from each. Next would be the cardiovascular test on a treadmill. All tests would be completed by the end of the visit.

Mr. Wright wore a bright orange gym outfit, probably new and never used. Lina wore an old and faded gray gym outfit with a hole in the elbow. She admitted it was used.

After Mr. Wright’s urine and blood tests, she told him to get on the treadmill. He complied and began to jog. He had gained weight since his last review, bringing him to 260 pounds; he was undoubtedly overweight by more than twenty pounds. His medical report showed that he had heart disease and had high blood pressure. She could tell he was a smoker, and he probably was a heavy drinker too because he had very high cholesterol levels.

Dana could see that he was running out of breath amazingly fast. His face began to turn red, and his body broke out with an abnormal amount of sweat. The alarm went off on the testing machine because his heartrate had climbed too high. As a safety precaution, the treadmill began to shut down.

Damn it! I did really bad, didn’t I? Mr. Wright asked.

Dana tried to seem calm in her response. With a smile and forcing some optimism into her tone, she replied, You did better last time. Just have a seat in conference room, and I’ll get your results together in about forty-five minutes.

Lina then entered the testing area. She seemed to be just the opposite of Mr. Wright. Although she was twenty years older than him, she was thin. Lina frequently exercised for her age and ate a vegetarian diet, mostly because the meat was awfully expensive. Furthermore, she wasn’t rich like the lawyer, and she lived a simple life. All she needed was God, so she prayed every day, all day long.

She stepped up onto the treadmill and ran for three miles with a particularly good heartrate. She passed the test easily. Afterward, she took a shower and went to the waiting room for the results. Sitting in one of the chairs, she thought, God, let me pass.

Dana sat in front of her computer, waiting for Lina’s results. She pondered about who was going to pass. Then Mr. Wright’s results came back—he passed. She thought, HE PASSED. She knew he failed. Dana accessed the databank and changed the result to reflect the truth.

Lina’s results came back, and she failed. Dana thought that was impossible. Then she saw that it was her blood results that failed her. A DNA link revealed that she would have Alzheimer’s disease soon. Dana changed the results to reflect a passing score based on what she had witnessed.

The sun began to rise at the mall, a large building located in Orange Park, Florida, just on the outskirts of Jacksonville. Mark, a middle-aged man, lived in a small tent in the back of his truck that he kept parked at the mall. He considered himself better off than those who had to live in the mall. The people in the mall had less freedom and were sold to other people in contracts.

There were two types of people who lived at the mall—the poor and the indebted—and both were owned by the State and companies to whom money was owed. The poor simply had no too little money and could not afford housing. The indebted went bankrupt to default on a loan and had no money. Residents inside the mall people were given free food, but once a week people came to purchase some of them through a contract. A contract could last six months to five years. However, the people living in the parking lot had a chance to leave one day and make money.

People could throw supplies over the fence to help the captives in the parking lot. The only way a mall resident could leave was to work in an outside job. Getting a job after being in the tent city was extremely hard, but occasionally Mark was able to get one.

Services in the mall parking lot included prostitution, gun repair/upgrades, ammo reloading, selling goods, car repair, drugs, and minor medical services.

He had been married at one time. He loved his wife, but she died from the plague. He lost a lot of money in medical copays, which forced him to sell his house and move to the mall. Fortunately, he still had his truck and no debt and was allowed to live in the parking lot.

Mark loved painting and tried to create a different picture every day. Many of his paintings seemed sad because of the pandemic and the economic collapse. Still, he was able to sell many of his paintings at the small flea market that was opened once a week in the mall’s parking lot.

Since drugs were legal, he would get high at the end of each day and watch the sunset. He also made side money selling drugs for Ed, the security police officer for the mall. Between his job, paintings, and the drug sales, he had almost saved enough money to rent a small apartment away from the mall.

He dreamed of the world being like the old one. He missed going to a movie. He missed not going to the beach and not just seeing a woman’s body but her face as well. He missed fine-dining restaurants he used to patronize with his wife. He missed going to a major concert and sporting event. He missed people in general, people who were happy and had hope and enjoyed life.

As he sat next to his truck smoking a bowl of marijuana one late summer after, he noticed a thin, middle-aged woman with black hair studying the picture he had painted earlier.

 Hello. She turned to him, her brown eyes matching her smile, I like your work.

 I’ve done better, Mark shrugged. Been stuck lately. My name’s Mark.

The woman smiled. My name’s Janet.

Mark held his bowl to her. Want a hit?

She nodded. Thanks. She pulled her mask down to inhale the smoke. After exhaling deeply with her eyes closed, she handed him back his bowl. That’s good stuff.

Mark stared off into the distance, feeling comfortable with this stranger.

Janet broke the silence. I can remember so many things we used to do before the plague. I can remember when we were free back when I was a little girl.

 I can remember living on a farm. We had plenty of everything. Everyone was happy. We’d get together for major events and actually had fun, Ed replied.

Mark reached in his pocket and felt an orange. Pulling it out, he handed it to Janet. Here, he said.

She smiled and started to peel it. They both sat down behind his canvas painting and pulled their masks off their faces. This act was a big deal.

After savoring one of the sections, Janet asked, How do you get such fresh produce?

I know someone at a market. Mark watched her eat the orange and found himself enjoying her delight in it.

 My sister used to bring me fresh produce until she died last year, Janet said. She paused before continuing. She got blood cancer.

Mark nodded in understanding. My wife died from the plague. I miss her. He gazed down at the ground, his grief distracting him from her eating the orange. It’s a sad world sometimes, I guess, when your painting helps get you through it. I used to have a garden. I liked planting things in it when I had a house. Now I just pray and read the book. I really miss going to church. I can remember when most of the churches shut down. Even the big weddings stopped happening.

Mark  nodded in thought. The funerals stopped also.

I guess we still have our prayers, and God is in our hearts.

No matter what, they can’t take away our faith.

Janet handed Mark a section of orange, and they shared the remainder of it. Having a face-to-face breakfast was rare at the mall. Most people ate alone. Mark really liked it.

 Thanks for breakfast, Janet said as she started standing up. I’ll let you get back to painting.

As she walked away, Mark was left with a last thought of the old days and the things that were missing from today’s life. He decided that tomorrow he would start working on a new type of painting—pictures of the present as if the second depression had never happened. He would paint people he knew doing things in the present without the past and government security watching everything, of people, especially beautiful women, not wearing masks, a time when they were free with endless possibilities for the future.

He missed the old United States and the American flag. He remembered the idea that in America you could become anything. He would paint pictures of rock stars because, like him, many people missed the days of going to rock concerts and attending sporting events and going to a mall and stores to actually shop for items, not people.

Nostalgia was what Mark would sell  through his paintings.

Chapter Two

It was a bright day in Africa near Egypt. On a small military base, Edward just arrived at a civilian-own coffee stand. After buying two large cups of mocha coffee, he sat next to his friend Staff Sergeant Melody and gave her one of them. She was also in the Army like him.

He loved to gaze at her, her brown eyes and long brown hair. They both fell in love with each other during this African Champaign.

When we get back, we need to get our own apartment, Melody stated optimistically, returning his smile.

We can take time and decorate it, Ed said.

 I want a large bed that’s oak wood with satin bed sheets. Melody smiled when she said this.

 We need a large-panel TV that will take the entire wall, Ed replied.

 We can get one near the gun range outside the north gate. It would be easy to get to work.

 We can use nice rugs in our apartment that I got from the Middle East.

 I wish we had time for a pet. Do you think we will get locust duty today or be sent to the market? Ed replied.

Locust duty, the market doesn’t happen until tomorrow. The United Nations will not get here until tomorrow with the shipment of food.

Do you think Marcos and his rebels will interfere with the operations? asked Ed.

Marcos was a very feared overlord that ran most of the rebels and was one of the main targets in the African War. Ed had studied him for a while in his training for this major campaign.

 I hate locust duty. Sometimes we have to use flamethrowers when the farms are almost destroyed. They’re black with them fiery red eyes. I hate looking into those eyes. Melody paused. Then her eyes rolled back in her head, and a large black locust came out of her mouth, followed by several more.

Ed started shaking, and then he woke up. Looking around, he was relieved to see that he was in his bed. He hated his dreams.

Ed was short for Edward. His full name was Edward Jones. He was a police officer at the mall and served in the military, completing one tour. He did not do much in the military, though. He started out working security in the Department of Agriculture. But he was called into the African Middle East conflict during his last year of military service. He was still young and in good shape, but he felt a lot older than twenty-eight.

Ed was glad to leave the military and the foodservice. He liked working at the mall more than the Department of Agriculture. His job included helping facilitate the relocation of mall residents and running security outside the mall in the parking lot. He had friends there he could visit with. Sometimes he would help his roommates sell food and drugs at the flea market on the weekend for some extra money. He hated some of his duties, but he had it better than most people.

He lived in the garage of a retired gas station. A Mexican family turned it into a food market and sold the vegetables they grew themselves. He was content with his living quarters, not the best but better than what some had. His rent was low because he was on the police force, and it reduced the chance of the family being robbed. The garage had enough space for his car and his bed, and he even had his own bathroom. He was glad to come home and shut himself out from the world every day.

Each morning he was glad to get up and have breakfast with the family who owned the food market. Sofie and her brother Jesus lived with their mother.

Sofie always made him breakfast, but he was adamant about providing his fair share of the food, so he would trade items from the mall parking lot for it. He sat down at the table next to Sofie and across from her mother to enjoy his favorite breakfast tacos. Jesus was always in the field working.

The seat at the head of the table remained empty in remembrance of Sofie’s dad, who died in the third wave of the virus outbreak. Everyone lost loved ones. Ed lost both his parents. He still had a sister who got married and moved to Texas and had two children, a son and a daughter. He didn’t hear from her.

 He finished his breakfast and got ready to drive to work. He could almost walk to work, but he really liked his police car. Sometimes he would sit all day in the parking lot and just watch the tent city. Other times, he had to go inside the mall and police areas and do security for food handouts.

Ed would work in the mall sometime. He was glad he was not imprisoned inside the mall waiting to be sold. Some people never got a contract, mostly because they were uneducated or old or both. Seeing them get passed by time after time created a depressing atmosphere for a while. It seemed like a long drive to the mall.

He turned on the radio for some music. Instead, the news blasted through the speakers.

Today, the Pakistan India War reaches the gripping reality of a possible nuclear war with China stepping into the conflict to deescalate the nuclear tension. China offered food and open trade to the desperate countries still devastated by famine, war, and plague. In other news, the United States is still aiding in the Middle East food shortage with more shipments of wheat arriving today.

Ed turned the radio off and remembered why he didn’t listen to it often. He drove his car to the front office for his assignment. His manager, Jill, a veteran, was working the front window.

Hi, Jill, Ed said with a smile. What do we have for today?

Parking duty, Section 10. You’re lucky. You just missed a rape and a stabbing. I’ll be working on that report for the next hour. Your section is calm, though. She nodded. You do a good job of keeping it that way.

Here, I brought these for you.

He handed Jill a cup of cherries that Sofia had given him earlier. Jill always liked getting things from Ed, like fruit because it was fresh. She knew he lived on a farm or near a market.

Well, these look good! Jill stared in the cup, her smile broadening.

I thought you would like them. Ed shrugged.

Have a nice day, Jill replied.

Ed walked away from Jill. He knew that the drugs he sold to the people in his section helped him in his efforts to maintain control in his section and keep the people there calm. He got in his police car and drove to his usual spot.

He spotted a small crowd, so he decided to drive closer so he could get out and investigate. He wondered if it was a friendly protest or some wild couple having sex in the open. Nothing surprised him anymore.

He made his way through the growing crowd, who simply seemed to be watching something. As he broke through to the front, another picture was being created on canvas. Mark, one of the parking lot residents he had gotten to know, was painting what looked to be another incredible picture.

He had never really noticed Mark’s paintings much before, but he did now. They were vivid with color. He had painted a football game, a restaurant dinner, a concert, and people on the beach, all places and events from the past, and no one was wearing a face mask. Many people were watching to see what Mark was going to paint next.

Ed liked the beach picture. It reminded him of his childhood.

Mark stopped painting. Hi, Ed. How’s it going?

Everyone now turned to look at Ed, glaring at him impatiently for interrupting.

How much for the beach picture? Ed asked without taking his eyes off the painting.

Mark gave it a hard look. Eighty credits.

 Okay, Ed replied. He counted out eighty dollars in silver coins. Then he picked up the painting and took it to his car.

Ed. Wait! Mark yelled after him.

Ed stopped and turned to Mark.

 Can you do me a favor? Mark asked. I am painting more, so I’m running out of supplies. Can you take this list and purchase these supplies for me? He reached toward Ed with the same eighty dollars in silver coins he had just given to Mark.

Ed thought about it for a minute. He wasn’t allowed to buy anything for the people in the mall, but he could make trades with them. I can’t get supplies for you. But in a way, we’re trading a picture for supplies, right?

Mark nodded. Ed hated doing anything for these mall people, but this was a good painting. It was one the most positive things he had seen since he took the job. Plus, it was the first time he had seen someone so full of hope.

Ed walked closer back to Mark. I need some help from you too, Mark. He then gave Mark a pound of heroin, a pound of marijuana, a bag of rolling papers, and some syringes.

Mark took them without asking any questions. He knew what to do. He had been selling drugs for Ed for a year. Not only did they help keep people calm, but they also helped him and his friends make money.

Ed would have Mark sell drugs once a month for eight months out of the year. He was good and didn’t draw much attention. He did not want people to know who his source was. He also knew that Mark had a gun, some weapons, a friend named Daryl to help and a license to sell, so if he got caught Ed could cover him.

Ed walked through the camp patrolling and made his rounds. He talked to a lot of people. Some people complained about their things being stolen from their tents. One man claimed that he and his family needed more room. Ed filed a complaint for him at the front office with Jill.

He also played soccer for an hour with some kids in the parking lot, one of the activities he truly loved about his job.

Later that day, and it was a long day, he noticed a smell, the dead smell that happened at least once a week. Someone had died.

He walked to a blue tent, where a man named Derrick lived. Derrick was slumped over in a plastic lawn chair, a needle dangling from his arm. Ed felt his pulse. Nothing. He had obviously died from an overdose.

Ed picked up his chin and saw the maggots on his face. He must have died two days ago.

Ed rolled down his sleeves. He never really cared for Derrick. He wrapped him up in his tent and took him to be processed in the back of the mall. Derrick would be cremated on site and his ashes mailed to a