The E.M.P. Chronicles (Book 1): 458 Miles & 24 Days

by McTatey, Zayden (Oz)

  Ed grabbed the fully loaded Glock magazine and a pint of moonshine and set it aside. “What else do you have,” she said.

  “That’s it. All I have,” Oz said.

  “Well, it’s not enough,” Ed said.

  Oz thought for a minute and then said, “Ok, what can I get for the Glock magazine and moonshine?”

  Ed reached under the counter and pulled out a four-inch Cold Steel® knife. “Let’s make a deal,” Ed said. “I’ll give you all the supplies on the counter plus this knife in exchange for the Glock magazine and ammunition, the pint of moonshine, and . . .”

  Ed stopped for a minute when Oz saw her eyes slowly focus on his crotch. Feeling uncomfortable Oz asked, “You mean, sex?”

  Ed shook her head up and down. “You get what you want and I get what I want,” she exclaimed.

  For the first time, Oz looked intently at Ed. She had long blonde hair, hazel eyes, a thin frame, and rather large breasts. As best Oz could tell, she was aged beyond her years but was still attractive. Her hands appeared rough with several calluses which could be easily seen.

  “Hard worker,” Oz thought to himself.

  Oz looked at the gear on the counter and knew some of it could make the difference between life and death. He thought of Nicki and the vows they had taken. He knew Nicki would tell him to do whatever it took to make it home. He closed his eyes and without verbally saying the words he said, “I Love You, Nicki.”

  He walked over to the front window, looked out, and saw Naomi’s head occasional peak out from the side of the brick wall. Naomi and Cheyanne were now Oz’s responsibility and he needed to give them every survival advantage possible.

  Oz walked back to Ed and extended his hand and said, “Deal.”

  Ed grabbed his hand but did not let go. Instead, she took it and slowly ran it across her breast and jumped up onto the counter. She pulled him in closer and closed her eyes.

  OZ OPENED THE front door of the shop, scanned the street in front of him, and walked to where Naomi and Cheyanne were. He handed each of them a backpack and the supplies he had traded for.

  “So, what took so long?” Naomi asked with an inquisitive look.

  “Trading took a little longer than I thought. She was a tough negotiator,” Oz said.

  “Wait a minute. He’s a she?” Naomi said.

  “Yep. He’s a she,” Oz replied.

  “What exactly did you trade, Oz?” Naomi said with a stern voice.

  “Let’s just say that she was very creative,” Oz said.

  “Ok then. I have no more questions,” Naomi quipped.

  While the girls prepared the packs, Oz pulled the Cold Steel knife out of his pocket and handed it to Cheyanne.

  “Compliments of Ed,” he said.

  Cheyanne studied the knife and quickly figured out how to open, release the lock, and close the blade.

  “Thanks,” she said as she put it in her front pocket.

  “Onward to Atlanta,” Oz said as the group began the day’s long hike.

  38

  Adapting to a New World

  CALI WAS HAVING TROUBLE ADAPTING TO THIS NEW WORLD. She missed her friends. She missed her classes and professors. She missed the convenience of the university dining hall. She missed being able to video chat with her friends. She loved her family and knew home was the right place but it seemed like yesterday she was living in a completely different world.

  Now, she was carrying a gun everywhere she went. She had to wear a bulletproof vest and a Personnel Armor System for Ground Troops (PASGT) military helmet. She had to pull guard duty every single day. She wasn’t allowed to go outside unless she went with another person. For the first time in her life, she had to eat everything on her plate because food was now more valuable than gold. She thought for a moment and knew she had made the right decision, to come home and not stay at the University. Her family was the most important thing to her, especially when it came to Randall. He was her younger brother, but he had always been there for her. They were two peas in a pod and always knew they could count on each other.

  “Randall,” Cali said. “Don’t you wish you would have listened to dad more?”

  “Yeah. He’s smart. He knew we weren’t listening and so he had a Plan B,” Randall said.

  “What was his Plan B?” Cali asked.

  “Did you see the library he created of prepper and survival books downstairs? He has books, magazines, printouts, and posters of everything we need to know. Cali, he has books on plant identification, perimeter security, tactical security, food preservation, gardening, ammunition re-loading, gunsmithing, first aid, natural medications, prepping, radio communications, and survival. It’s ironic.”

  “What’s ironic?” Cali said.

  “That we go to school to learn new things. To learn what I guess you would call life skills yet we’re going to struggle to do the simplest of things like start a fire, hunt animals, cook food, and the toughest one, learn to live without electricity,” Randall lamented.

  Cali thought about what her brother just said and asked, “What book do you recommend I start with? I have no skills. The sooner I get started the better.”

  “There’s an outstanding book called The Prepper’s Handbook by Zion Prepper. It gives you a great overview of preparedness and really describes the exact situation we’re in and what we need to be doing. It’s the first book dad read,” Randall said.

  “Okay, I’ll start with that book,” Cali said.

  Randall turned to leave the room when Cali said, “Randall, I need you to review the handgun emergency action drills and reload procedures with me. I need to know everything there is to know about my handgun. Mom said it is never to leave my side. I need to be able to defend our family. I need to be able to defend you.”

  For the next two hours, Randall and Cali reviewed the handgun emergency action drills including, Type I (failure to fire), Type II (stove pipe or failure to eject), Type III (double feed), emergency reloads, and tactical reloads. It was good practice for Randall and Cali. Nicki was elated to see them practicing these new skills as she watched them from the stairs.

  “Those exercises could one day save their life,” she thought to herself.

  39

  Ambushed

  OZ CONVINCED THE LADIES TO HEAD NORTH FOR SEVERAL hours and then they would turn west. Going west of Atlanta was the best option even though it added an additional day to their trip. The map showed by heading west they would pass several small country cities where they could hopefully restock their food supply.

  Oz estimated by taking a more westward direction that it would take about forty-eight hours to walk from Griffin to Adairsville, Georgia. Their route would keep them somewhat safe and invisible as they would be traveling near several large forests that they could use for camping and cover if needed.

  After walking for eighteen hours straight, the group needed to rest. They had made good time, but it came at a cost; energy, hunger, and thirst. It was time to set up camp. They chose a spot about 100 yards into the forest. The plan was to eat the rest of the remaining food and hope that within the next day or two they would be able to replenish their supply.

  Naomi began to open a Mountain House food pouch when she thought she saw motion. She stopped what she was doing and put her finger to her mouth to signal for silence. She put two fingers to her eyes and pointed indicating that she saw movement in the forest. They both began scanning the forest.

  Then, the loud sound of a gun firing was heard. The shot rang loud and true. It hit Oz center mass. Oz went to instinctively grab his chest when a second shot rang out. Oz fell to the ground looking up at the night sky. Cheyanne didn’t move due to fear while Naomi slowly approached Oz from behind cover. She was looking for movement or a muzzle flash. She stared into the night but didn’t see anything. She slowly crawled the final five feet and grabbed his pant
leg. With all her strength she slowly pulled Oz behind a tree. She looked at his chest to check for movement and then placed two fingers on his wrist feeling for a pulse.

  “He’s alive,” she said to herself. Naomi quickly looked for traces of blood and could not find any. “That’s weird,” she said.

  Then it donned on her. She took off his jacket only to find Oz wearing a Level IV tactical vest. He was unconscious but not dead. Before she could render first aid, she needed to disable the shooter or shooters. Reaching on the ground around her, Naomi found a decent size stick and crawled back to Cheyanne.

  “Cheyanne,” Naomi whispered. “You need to listen to me and do exactly as I say. Shake your head up and down if you understand.”

  As if slowly coming out of a coma, Cheyanne shook her head up and down.

  “Good,” Naomi said and continued. “When I start to crawl to that big tree to your right, I want you to count to thirty and then throw the stick to your left. It will take me about twenty seconds to crawl to the tree and ready my rifle. Are you ready?”

  Cheyanne shook her head yes when her mother whispered in her ear, “Start counting.”

  Naomi crawled about twenty feet and then crouched behind a large pecan tree. She slowly raised her body with both knees resting on the ground. She leveled her rifle on her shoulder and waited for Cheyanne to throw the stick.

  Naomi heard the stick hurdling through the air, hit several limbs, and eventually land on the ground. She saw the muzzle flash. It was a single muzzle flash.

  “One shooter,” she said and pulled the trigger on the rifle twice.

  Not knowing if she hit the shooter, she waited for one minute before crawling back to Oz. She reached into his fanny pack and took out his night vision monocular and then slowly made her way back to a different tree ten yards away. There was no way she was going to give the shooter the ability to identify her location; she would be constantly moving.

  She powered on the monocular and scanned the forest in front of her. As she was scanning, she saw a body lying flat on the forest floor. There was no movement. She continued watching the figure for another thirty seconds before concluding that she had hit and wounded the shooter and, at best, killed them.

  She scanned the forest around her looking for any additional movement. There was none. She hung the monocular around her neck, tucked it into her shirt, and crawled back to Cheyanne.

  “Cheyanne,” Naomi whispered. “We need to be quiet, but I need you to take this rifle and sit by that tree in front of me. If anyone approaches, aim the rifle at them, and pull the trigger. Don’t worry if you hit them or not. I’ll rush to your side. I need to take care of Oz right now.”

  “Ok,” Cheyanne whispered.

  Naomi went back to Oz and removed his jacket and bulletproof vest. She lifted up his shirt and saw two circular bruises one inch apart.

  “This man is definitely prepared,” she thought. “Had he not had that vest on he would have died.”

  Before doing anything else, Naomi knew she needed to secure the area of any additional threats. She suspected the shooter was alone but needed to validate her suspicions.

  She signaled to Cheyanne to stay where she was as she slowly stood up and peered through the night vision monocular looking for any additional movement in the forest. She saw no movement and began cautiously clearing the immediate area of any threats before arriving at the dead body.

  With Oz’s handgun in her right hand, she slowly rolled the body over. Naomi was surprised that the shooter was a young man, no older than Cheyanne, dressed in camouflage, and well-armed. He had bled out from a round that had hit him in the femoral artery on his right leg.

  “Lucky shot,” Naomi whispered before a myriad of thoughts flooded her mind.

  She could not understand how such a young man could want to kill or harm anyone. Worse yet, she didn’t understand why she was the one who had to end up shooting him.

  “Why couldn’t it have been Oz,” she thought. “Enough. I need to hide the body just in case someone comes looking for him and somehow make a camp for tonight.”

  Naomi stripped the dead body of any useful gear including a Smith and Wesson M&P® 45 with three extra magazines, a Rock River® LAR-15 with five extra magazines, a compass, flashlight, lighter, and a local map.

  Naomi then began piling leaves, branches, and various other natural materials over the body to camouflage it.

  “Not the greatest job in the world,” she said to herself. “But it will work for now.”

  Naomi returned to help Oz and realized he was too heavy to carry any distance and that was exactly what she needed to do. She needed to put distance between her group and the dead body but knew Oz would never make it. She knew he would need at least one day’s rest but the best she could give him would be a couple hours and then they needed to move. Her worst fear would be that the group that the young man was with would come looking for him and if they found his dead body, well, she could only imagine what would happen next.

  Oz slowly opened his eyes and began cursing before Naomi could calm him down.

  “Oz, be quiet. You’ll get us killed.” Naomi said while holding her hand over his mouth.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “You were shot. I need you to man up and quit being a big baby. You had your vest on.” she said with a smirk.

  “Damn it, damn it, damn it, it hurts!” he said.

  Naomi reached into the first aid kit and pulled out four Tylenol capsules. She gave them to Oz followed by water.

  “This is the best we have. Take them. You get two hours rest and then we move on unless you’re ready now?” Naomi said.

  “How long have I been out?” he asked.

  “About 30 minutes,” Naomi responded.

  “In that case, we need to get out of here,” Oz said.

  Naomi helped Oz up and gestured to Cheyanne to follow. The group headed immediately north at a pace that was comfortable but not too fast for Oz. It didn’t take long before they heard noises that appeared to be coming from the area of the dead body. It sounded like a group of pissed off, angry men who didn’t care if anyone heard them.

  “Oz, we have to pick up the pace right now,” Naomi said from behind him.

  “I’m going, I’m going,” he said while exhaling a deep breath.

  40

  Desperate People Make Desperate Groups

  NOT EXACTLY SURE WHAT DAY OF THE WEEK IT WAS, LET ALONE how long it had been since they last left the house, Nicki hugged her son and daughter and said, “I’m going to venture out. I need to get information on what’s going on. We can’t stay locked up in the house forever and town is our best bet.”

  “You’re not going alone,” a voice barked from the other room. It was Lloyd. “I’ll go with you.”

  “No,” said Nicki. “We need you to help keep an eye on the house and protect the family,” Nicki said.

  “I’ll go with you, mom,” Randall said.

  “Ok,” Nicki said reluctantly. Nicki and Randall now had a decision to make. Would they drive the Suburban, which would attract unwanted attention, walk, which would take four to five times longer, or ride bicycles? Bicycling made sense. Bicycles were quiet and would get the two into town in less than an hour.

  “Randall put your vest on. Make sure you have at least four extra magazines with you,” Nicki said.

  “Done,” Randall responded.

  “Randall, before we go I need you to be aware that it’s not only men you need to be worried about. Women will be just as dangerous. They will use their body to get what they want. They could even be used to bait you into a trap. Be careful of everyone, Randall.”

  Randall shook his head in acknowledgment.

  The weather was good, and as they rode the bikes, the scene was the same as days past. Abandoned cars on every road. The houses they passed
looked empty; occasionally they saw someone peek out the windows.

  “No way we’re stopping. Keeping riding.” Nicki said to herself.

  As Nicki and Randall approached the outskirts of the town they could immediately see a small group of people gathered near a local church. Nicki stopped, turned to Randall, and said, “What do you think. It’s people gathered at a church. How dangerous could it be?”

  “Mom, you realize that you’ve had to protect your life with a gun, Frank tried to kill us, and now hunger is more rampant than ever? And you’re asking me how dangerous can it be?” Randall said suspiciously.

  “You’re right. Stay to my right about ten feet behind me. Stay where you can keep an eye on the entire group. If I touch my right ear that means I’m getting ready to draw my gun. That’s your sign to leave. I’ll catch up to you later,” Nicki said.

  “I’m not, and I repeat, not leaving your side,” Randall said and continued. “When you touch your ear, that’s my sign to engage if the Stuff hits the fan.”

  Nicki knew he was not going to change his mind and said, “Ok, wait two minutes before riding up to the group. Hopefully, they won’t catch on that we’re together.”

  Nicki hugged her son, jumped on her bike and rode towards the group. Expecting to see a preacher or minister leading the conversation, Nicki was surprised to see a middle-aged woman taking notes. She had long grey hair and looked emaciated as did the rest of the group. She appeared to be the focal point.

  As Nicki walked closer to the lady she got a quick glance at some of the words written on the note pad. They were: flour, iodine, tooth paste, garden seeds, 45 ACP, wheat, rice, beans, 9mm, shotgun shells, bandages, antibiotics, flashlights, and batteries. The woman looked up and immediately glanced at Nicki.