A Powerless World | Book 2 | Survive The Lawless

by Hunt, Jack

  Jenna dragged her feet as she walked away, then stopped behind the wall to listen before Carol told her to get her butt in gear. “Young lady.”

  “All right. I’m going.” She laughed.

  Colby heard her wander off.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Um.” The head fog still hadn’t cleared. “Like a Mack truck has hit me.”

  “Yes, you were in a bad state when you arrived. I see the color has come back to your cheeks. That’s good. Cuts are healing up nicely. Jebediah will be pleased.”

  “Who?”

  “My husband. Jebediah. He’s gone into town. He should be back soon.”

  Colby nodded. Everything felt foreign. He looked around. Took in the sight of a bookcase through the open door, the spines suggested they were religious books. His mind scrambled for answers. For the familiar but there was nothing to hold on to.

  “How long have I been here?”

  “Four days.”

  He balked. “Four days?”

  She nodded. “My husband brought you here in the dead of night. Found you in our field, strung up where the scarecrow used to be. You were wearing the hat, the shirt, and pants Jebediah had used. That scarecrow had been on the ground for weeks. Made him wonder why it was up. Scared the living daylights out of Jenna when you moved.” She stared. Up close, Colby noticed soft features. Fine lines that spread at the corners of her eyes and across her forehead. Old age had been kind to her. She sat on the edge of the bed, hands in her lap. “Do you know how you ended up in our field?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  There weren’t even any fragments that he had to work with, it was just a blank slate.

  “What’s your name?”

  He opened his mouth to reply then closed it.

  It was like someone had placed a cloak over his memory. It was right there on the tip of his tongue, but for the life of him, he couldn’t recall. “I… I don’t know.”

  “It’s okay. Then what do you remember?”

  He closed his eyes, hoping that might help. He tried to concentrate. Focus. Everything was so vague and hazy. A jumbled mess that didn’t make sense. He opened his eyes. Carol studied him. “Huh. That knock to the back of your head must have done a number on you.”

  “Knock?”

  “Yes, there was a nasty gash on the back of your head. Strangely, it looked older, as if it had healed slightly. I mean, in comparison to the other wounds you had.” She looked as if she was fishing for information, insights, anything that could tell her who this naked stranger was, but he had nothing, at least not then.

  The sound of galloping caught their attention.

  Carol tapped his leg as she rose. “That will be Jebediah.” She went over to the window and peered out. “Yep. That’s him. I’ll go and let him know you’re awake. He’ll want to speak to you. I’ll get you some clothes. You look about his height.”

  “Whose height?”

  She paused at the door. “Our son. He’s with the Lord now… God rest his soul.” She walked out of the room, looking somber. Colby felt awkward. Uncomfortable even. It wasn’t just the aches he felt in his muscles or the pain in his side that seemed to be a damaged rib — it was the confusion. He couldn’t recollect a damn thing. Not even his name.

  A storm door, a warm greeting, heavy boots, then whispering.

  “Okay. That’s fine. Thank you, love,” a male voice said.

  A heavyset man entered the room. A bushy beard dwarfed his face, white as snow. He had to have been at least six foot two in height. He was wearing blue jeans and brown work boots. There was faded ink peeking out from underneath his plaid shirt. “You’re awake. That’s good to see.” He removed a raggedy baseball cap from his bald head and wiped sweat from his brow with a thick forearm before setting the cap back on. It was clear he’d been a farmer all his life — his skin was tanned, his body strong even though age had caught up with him. “The name’s Jebediah,” he said, stepping forward and extending a hand. Colby shook it and would have told him his but… “I hear you’re having trouble remembering. That right?”

  “Yeah. It appears so.”

  “Concussion. It’ll probably come back to you. In the meantime, I’ll call you Joe. So, you hungry, Joe?” He didn’t respond. “Of course you are.”

  Jenna appeared in the doorway with clothes. “Grandma said to use these.”

  “Ah, thank you, Jenna.”

  He took the pile and placed them at the foot of the bed. There was a pair of black jeans, a blue jean shirt and a white T-shirt. On top of that, boots. “The boots might not fit, but we have another pair from our second son if those don’t.”

  Colby just smiled. Still awkward.

  “Are you a fallen angel?” Jenna asked.

  “Child,” Jebediah scolded her. “Where are your manners?”

  “Sorry. I had to ask.”

  She walked away, and Jebediah grinned. “Kids. They say the darndest things. She saw the scars on your back, from the beating you took, thought you were an angel that had its wings clipped.” He chuckled. Colby didn’t know what to say. He found it amusing but deeply disturbing at the same time. Jebediah reached down and lifted a bedpan. “Guessing you don’t remember this.”

  “No.”

  “I wish I could forget,” he said with a chuckle as he walked out of the room. “Take your time. There’s a washroom down the hall. No running water, so use what’s in the bucket.”

  “No running water?”

  Jebediah looked at him, then flipped the switch on the wall up and down. “No power either. You really don’t recall anything, do you?”

  “I’m sorry. I… What happened?”

  “There was an event eleven days ago. The power grid is down, cars don’t work, and all communication is gone.”

  When he didn’t register the event, Jebediah rapped his knuckles against the wall. “That’s all right. It will come back to you, so will your strength. If you’re up to eating, we’ll be in the kitchen. I’ll bring you up to speed, and maybe you can see what you can remember. But first... wash.” His tone was warm but firm.

  He was about to walk away when Colby said, “I do remember one thing.”

  “What?”

  “A tattoo of a spider.”

  THREE

  Dan Wilder

  Humboldt, California

  The three bodies twisted in the breeze below Alderpoint Bridge. The rope creaked, a sound that he would not forget. The sight of them hanging there would no doubt find its way into his nightmares. Sheriff Dan Wilder knew them all. They’d been missing for nine days, he remembered the day well, as it was the second day after the event, and Hank had been in, accusing the Rikers.

  Although he didn’t want to believe that the Rikers were responsible, it would have been foolish to rule them out, especially after the accusations laid against them by Luke. But with so much responsibility resting on his shoulders, other things had taken precedence. To add insult to injury, he’d told Hank that perhaps they’d left town, but he refused to believe it. He kept pointing the finger at the Rikers.

  They were the ones.

  I know it was them.

  Arrest them now.

  It was all hearsay. Nevertheless, that same day he’d sent a couple of deputies up to the Riker property to take a statement on their whereabouts, but that was a waste of time. It was nothing more than procedure, and Hank knew it. No one from their family would admit if they’d done this crime any more than Hank would acknowledge his involvement in Bruce Riker’s death. It was tit-for-tat, but there was no telling him that.

  Still, it would have been better if their bodies hadn’t shown up, easier to dismiss, easier to keep the Stricklands at bay, but now this would change everything.

  Almost two weeks had passed and he’d stopped thinking about them. They were missing. What was new? They were like many others that disappeared on the mountain, just faces that found their way onto flyers, except without electricity, there were
no flyers to be pinned up, no media reports to be heard, and that pissed Hank off.

  Dan thought he’d heard the last of it but now finding their bodies would mark a new and deadly milestone in the feud between the two families.

  Standing on the bank of the River Eel, with Deputy Steve Johnson and four other officers, he stared up, squinting behind aviators, foot resting on a rock, a hand on his service weapon.

  “Does Hank know?”

  “Not unless someone else told him,” Johnson said. “I told Jim to say nothing.”

  Jim Caruthers, the owner of an auto parts store, had seen the bodies on his way into Garberville that morning. Dan had been in talks with him only a few days earlier to see if he could work with local mechanics to get the department’s cruisers working. Based on what he’d gleaned from Hank about the EMP, the computer systems were fried and would need replacing. Jim’s store didn’t have the parts, though he’d said there was a chance that one of the larger cities did, but it would require a trip. Time. Money. Both were things he was running short on.

  He’d seriously been considering using horses, as patrolling the vastness of the rugged county was tough. The only ATVs working in the area were those donated by Hank Strickland, and Dan didn’t like using them because it made him feel indebted.

  “How long have they been here?”

  “Um, less than twenty-four hours? They weren’t here yesterday, that’s for sure.”

  He sighed. “Let’s get this scene cleaned up. Set up an east and west roadblock. No one gets in. Especially the Stricklands.”

  Johnson nodded, and took charge, taking the deputies with him back up the steep rocky incline.

  Dan groaned.

  He brought a hand up to his face, unable to believe this was happening. He was tired. Exhausted. He’d barely had five hours’ sleep a night since this had begun. He was struggling to keep his head above water. While local police and the sheriff’s department were doing their best to maintain law and order, the situation hadn’t improved.

  There were reports of numerous break-ins.

  A few families were tied up while their goods were stolen.

  Three had been shot dead. No leads.

  They’d had two town hall meetings so far to discuss safety, but beyond putting more officers out to patrol the streets, there wasn’t a hell of a lot that could be done.

  Timing was crucial. Communication, everything.

  In the past, people had cell phones, cameras.

  This gave them leads even if they arrived late.

  Now they had nothing but visual descriptions and he had a feeling that some of the thefts were being done by outsiders. He was meant to have a meeting later that day to discuss enforcing a curfew and setting up roadblocks. He’d been putting it off, trying to avoid it simply because he knew folks around here didn’t take too kindly to being told what to do, and it would mean taking officers away from other areas.

  But they were running out of options.

  At the rate they were going, desperation would soon take over.

  With no more supply deliveries, what perishable food was in the stores had already been consumed or gone rotten. He assumed the grocery owners throughout Alderpoint, Garberville and Eureka would come together, but instead, he found himself at odds with them. There were no rules on what governed an event like this. They couldn’t force them to hand over products, especially when there was so very little information on the event. So far the emergency broadcast was telling people to shelter in place and wait for further instructions. All well and good saying that, but they didn’t have to deal with troublemakers and argumentative locals.

  It had been that way for eleven days and he didn’t expect it to change.

  “Sheriff! We have a problem,” Johnson bellowed down from the ridge.

  “What is it?” he yelled.

  “Hank Strickland.”

  “Shoot me now!” he said, running a hand over his stubbled jaw and hurrying. Could this day get any worse? He hadn’t made it halfway up the rocky slope, elbowing his way through thick trees, when he heard his angry voice.

  “Those are my boys. I want to see them.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, we have strict orders.”

  “Fuck your orders. Get out of the way!”

  A commotion arose, and as Dan bulldozed out of the tree line, he began hollering. “It’s all right, Johnson, it’s all right, let them through.” He didn’t want it to go down this way, to have him see his kin like this, but getting in his way would only end badly.

  Deputies stepped off to one side and Hank and several of his family members drove their ATVs up onto the bridge over to where his men had pulled up the three badly decomposed bodies. Dan could feel his chest tighten as he made his way over. They hadn’t even had a chance to cover them.

  There was silence.

  Hank dropped to both knees and placed his hands slowly around Luke’s face, or what was left of it. His throat had been slit from ear to ear. Edgar and Jared had been shot. Decomposition had taken hold and the smell was horrendous. He’d seen enough dead people to know that these three had been killed a while ago.

  “My boys, my boys,” Hank said over and over again in a hushed voice. Hank lifted his face to the sky and muttered something as if he was having a conversation with God or maybe Bruce? He didn’t catch it but he saw the anger in his eyes. Dan shifted awkwardly from one foot to the next, waiting for the explosion, the eruption of anger, but it never came. He wasn’t sure if that was more terrifying. Hank stood up, and looked up toward the foothills of the mountain, nodding slowly. Dan glanced at some of his kin he’d brought with him: Derek, Seth, Donnie, Cheyanne, and Helen. It was just a fraction of his family. They all looked equally somber but not shocked.

  Hank took a deep breath. His gaze bounced between Dan and his sons, and then with a jerk of the thumb, he told them to load the bodies into the back of the ATV trailer. He was about to walk away when Dan stopped him.

  “Hank, you can’t move them.”

  “I’m burying them,” he said.

  “But we need to do an autopsy, an investigation.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “This is a crime scene.”

  “You and I know what this is…” He glared at him. “And you aren’t going to do a damn thing about it.”

  “And you are?” There was a beat. “Remember what I said, Hank.”

  “I heard you. But I’m still taking my boys.” He motioned to his kin and they stepped forward without any hesitation to carry them out.

  “Don’t do this, Hank.”

  He wasn’t referring to removing the bodies but what would come next.

  Hank’s features twisted. “This is on you. I told you to deal with them. I gave you a chance. I tried to do it the right way. I told you they would be a problem but you wouldn’t listen. Too busy pandering to these whiny town folk. Well, you just opened a Pandora’s box. I hope you’re ready for what comes out.”

  Dan squeezed his arm a little tighter. “That better not be what I think you’re saying.”

  “Take your fucking hand off me, Dan.”

  They exchanged a cold stare. Dan held tight a second longer, then released him. Hank glared. Under any other conditions, he would have prevented them from taking his boys but they were dealing with an incident far bigger than the death of three troublemakers. Of course, that’s what they were. Nothing more than trouble.

  His deputies looked at Dan, waiting for a word, any reason to step in, but he didn’t give it. As much as he wanted to disagree, Hank was right. It wouldn’t lead to anything. Not now. They weren’t prepared to dive into some homicide investigation and Hank knew it. Even if the bullets inside Edgar and Jared could be matched to a gun, that gun had probably been melted down by now.

  Besides, countless people in Humboldt had gone missing, and others that had turned up dead were still cold cases, paperwork just sitting in some dusty old box down at the department. And that was before the blackout.<
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  His deputies watched the Stricklands prepare to roll out. Before they left, Hank spoke up. “Those ATVs I lent you. I need them back.”

  Dan shook his head. “We’re using them.”

  “It’s my property.”

  “While I can respect that, and I appreciate you allowing us to use them, however, I’m afraid the situation in the county has gone beyond the timeline I thought it would. We are now commandeering those ATVs under the laws of California.”

  “What law?”

  “Posse comitatus. Under the law, if extraordinary or unforeseen circumstances arise, such as in a time of war or impending public danger — property may and will be seized for use and you as the citizen have a duty to comply. I would say these times qualify, don’t you?”

  Hank chuckled. “Last week you couldn’t find your way around the OES manual and now you’re quoting law? You might have these chumps fooled but not us.”

  Dan went red in the cheeks. He knew he was trying to humiliate him in front of the deputies. He just hoped he didn’t go further and reveal any of his darker secrets.

  “Fine! Keep them,” Hank barked.

  With that said, they started the ATVs and peeled out, two on each one. Seth gave him a disgusted look as he passed him. Dan released a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.

  The moment passed but with it came the question of what would happen next. Once the Stricklands were out of sight, Dan turned to Johnson. “I want you to take an additional twenty deputies and post them through Alderpoint and Garberville.”

  “You expecting trouble, sheriff?”

  “I hope not but we can’t be too careful.”

  “We’re already maxed out as it is. Many of them are pulling overtime.”

  “So take some from the correctional facility.”

  They had close to two hundred deputies active, a hundred within Humboldt’s correctional facility in Eureka, and another hundred spread throughout Garberville, Eureka, McKinleyville, and Trinity River.

  “I guess this is as good a time as any to tell you that grumbles are spreading throughout the department.”