Turbulent: A Post Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller (Days of Want Series Book 1)

by T. L. Payne

  Back on Mannheim, the destruction from the looting and rioting of the night before was everywhere. A few people still walked casually in and out of what few stores had not been burned out. Maddie and Emma crossed the street to avoid a crowd in front of a boutique clothing store. A block from there, smoke rose from what had once been a police sub-station. Both girls stared expressionlessly as they walked by. It was a vivid reminder that the authorities were not coming to help them. Maddie had only seen one police officer since the shit hit the fan. Wherever the cops were, they were without a doubt unprepared for a disaster of this magnitude.

  As they crossed over an interstate, Maddie saw a long convoy of military Humvees and trucks heading north into the city.

  They’ve called in the National Guard, she thought.

  They would need a lot more than what she saw to control what was going on in the city.

  Maddie lead Emma behind a shopping center and the two took a seat on a short concrete wall. Maddie removed the map from her pack and studied it. With her finger, she traced a route heading south. They would need to go west soon to link up with Interstate 55. She selected two alternate routes, neither of which were really good options, as they wound back and forth through residential streets adding hours to their trip. She was just about to the fold up the map and put it away when something caught her eye.

  There was a gray line on the map indicating a bike or hiking trail. She traced it with her finger. The trail ran from east to west, and she needed to go west before heading south. She searched the map, hoping for a trail heading toward Missouri but found none. Uncertainty gripped her. Seeing the great distance she needed to travel was an eye-opener.

  When she left the airport, she had only thought of getting out of Chicago and away from the craziness there. But now, realizing the miles she would need to travel before she reached home and safety, she felt panic rise from her stomach into her chest. Her breaths came in quick bursts. Emma's big green eyes widened. Maddie closed her eyes and slowed her breathing as she did when she ran. When her breathing became slow and rhythmic, Maddie opened her eyes.

  Patting Emma on the knee, she said, "It's okay, I just felt a little winded from all the running."

  Her gaze returned to the map. Even though they had a little food and the means to purify water, they did not have the gear to travel three hundred miles on foot, just the two of them, alone in the apocalypse. Her dad could have probably done it without a problem, but she was not her dad. Right then, she felt like a scared little girl. As scared as Emma likely was.

  She needed to get moving and put distance between them and the city, but all she wanted to do was curl into a ball and hide until someone came to her rescue. Maddie studied the map again, hoping somehow there was a route that ran parallel to the interstate that did not add extra miles to her trip. She looked at the Old Plank Road Trail once more and traced its path with her finger.

  Maybe we can take it west for a ways, then find a route south.

  She ran her finger from St. Louis up Interstate 55, searching for a better road to take that might intersect the trail at some point. It was then that a small town caught her attention. There, along another east-west trail, lay the city of Marseilles, Illinois. She could hear her mother’s laughter when she had said that if she won the lottery she would take a trip to France. Uncle Ryan had offered to take her on a trip to this Marseille instead.

  “Um—no thanks. I want to go to France, not Illinois.”

  Maddie’s dad, Greg Langston, had refused to take her mom to France, or anywhere that he could not carry a concealed weapon. Now Maddie understood, but at the time she’d resented him for it. It meant long drives to the beach in Florida and even longer trips to California to visit Grand and Grandpa Frank.

  She stared at the town of Marseille on the map. Uncle Ryan lived near there. She had been there many times, but having never driven there herself, she never paid attention to how they got there. She had not realized it was so close to Chicago. To her, it had felt like it was much farther north.

  Depending on how far they still had to go before reaching Uncle Ryan’s, she thought they could make it on the supplies they had. She thought of Uncle Ryan’s famous firehouse chili. She was so hungry for real food that she would even eat his awful tuna casserole…maybe. She may not be quite that hungry, yet.

  Uncle Ryan wasn’t family by blood, but he was her dad’s brother—a bond forged on the battlefields of Iraq and Afghanistan and, for them, a bond stronger than blood. He had been there for them after her dad passed away. He had made excuses to stop in, saying he needed to fix this or that. Maddie would come home from school and Uncle Ryan would be sawing lumber in the backyard fixing their deck or cleaning leaves from the gutters. He was the family’s rock. He’d held them together when her mom couldn’t get out of bed to take them to school or to soccer practice. Uncle Ryan had been there for her in her darkest hour. She was sure he would help her now too.

  From the town of Marseilles, she traced another east-west trail leading to the city of Joliet. The Indiana and Michigan Canal Trail ran from the south of Marseilles to the southwest side of Joliet. When the Old Plank Trail ended on the east side of Joliet, they would need to walk the railroad tracks west, cross the Des Plaines River, and pick up the Indiana and Michigan Canal Trail south of Joliet. She calculated the distance.

  The Old Plank Road Trail was twenty-two miles and then another thirty or so miles to Marseilles. It was a long way, but they could make it. Maybe not in one day, but they could get close. They could run some on the trail if Emma was up to it. The trail ran between housing subdivisions and through towns in places. That concerned her, but it was their best route.

  Looking up from the map, Maddie spotted a small group of people sitting in the shade near the store. She watched them cautiously. As one of the men stood and began walking in their direction, Maddie reached over and grabbed Emma’s hand. The girl looked up. When she saw the look of concern on Maddie’s face, her eyes grew wide. She turned to see what Maddie was looking at. Emma jumped to her feet, but Maddie held her hand tight.

  “Wait, Emma. We do not want to get into a foot race again. Maddie reached into her pocket and pulled out the gun. The man froze in place.

  “Whoa, whoa there. I just wanted to see if we might be able to take a look at your map. We are not from around here and we have no idea where we are or how to get out of the city,” the man yelled.

  Maddie held the pistol down to her side and stood. She wrapped an arm around Emma and stepped in front of her. Emma squeezed Maddie’s hand.

  “If you stay on this road, it will lead you south out of the city,” Maddie said.

  “Thank you,” the man said.

  He was short, maybe five foot six inches. He wore jeans, a polo shirt, and baseball cap. Maddie counted two women, two kids, and another male in the man’s group. The woman and the two kids were bloody. Their clothes were torn. One of the women was tearing pieces of the other man’s T-shirt and using them to cover a wound on one child’s leg.

  The man who spoke to her noticed her staring at the group.

  “My wife and children were injured in a car crash. Our phones aren’t working, and we haven’t been able to contact anyone for help.”

  “There’s been a terrorist attack or something. All the phones are down I believe. I have a small first aid kit. Not anything like you probably need, but I have wrap bandages and antibiotic ointment,” Maddie called.

  “That would help,” the man said, taking a step forward.

  Maddie raised the pistol and leveled it at the man. He shot his hands into the air and began backing away.

  “I’m not a threat. I mean you no harm. I promise you.”

  “Just stay there. I will toss the kit to you,” Maddie said.

  With her left hand, she reached back and grabbed the first aid kit from her pack.

  Handing it to Emma, she said, “Open it and take out the Ace bandage and antibiotic ointment.”

&nb
sp; After taking the items from Emma, Maddie tossed them to the man one at a time. He thanked her and returned to his family. Knowing that she did not have the physical energy to run should the men decide to chase her and Emma, Maddie sat back down on the concrete wall. Emma turned and looked at Maddie, her eyebrows raised.

  “We need to eat something and get hydrated, Emma. We can’t keep going if we don’t.”

  Maddie sat the pistol on her lap and pulled the sports beans and energy gels from her pack. Most of her energy bars were gone, but she had twenty gel packs and all of her sports beans left. She added up the calories in her head and looked up at Emma. They would need to dig deep and push themselves hard. Maddie wasn’t sure if Emma had that in her after all she had been through. But she had to.

  Maddie looked at the man and his group. She wished they would leave first. She felt uneasy having to pass them. Emma took a seat next to Maddie. She sat so close that their legs touched. Maddie could feel her trembling. Emma stared down at her feet. She sat quietly and expressionless. Maddie remembered that numb feeling all too well. She had felt the same after her dad died.

  After eating and drinking, Maddie stood and took Emma’s hand. She held the pistol down at her side and nudged Emma to move to their left, back toward the road. One of the women called after them. Maddie stopped.

  “Thank you for the bandage. I really appreciate your generosity. My children are very thirsty. You wouldn’t happen to have any water to spare?” the woman asked, standing to her feet.

  Maddie’s heart sank. She knew she should keep walking and ignore the woman’s pleas for help. It was what her father had trained her to do, but her heart ached for the woman and her children. Being injured in this heat could be life threatening, and the water she carried could mean life or death to those kids. Could she live with herself if she walked away without helping them?

  She thought for a moment. Making her decision, she reached into her pouch and pulled the two soft flasks out and laid them on the ground at her feet. She took Emma’s hand, and the two girls stepped onto the sidewalk and crossed to the other side of the road. She fought the urge to look back as they crossed the intersection. Giving away two bottles of water would not have been much of a sacrifice just a few days before, but in the apocalypse, it could be life or death. But they had the means to purify water. Maddie had seen several ponds, rivers, and canals on the map. She felt good about her decision even though she knew it went against her training. She wasn’t sure she would have very many more opportunities to be so generous in the future.

  It was a gesture that she intended not to tell Uncle Ryan about when she explained their journey. She could do without the lecture.

  Maddie picked up the pace to a brisk walk, then a jog. They needed to get to Uncle Ryan. She hoped Emma was up to it. Maddie knew Emma could not run as fast or as long, but every step would put them closer. Uncle Ryan would help her get home. He would also know how to get her mom and brother home. He would know what to do about Emma. Uncle Ryan was like her dad. He was all go, no quit. She just needed to get to Marseilles and find him.

  Chapter 15

  Olive Street Christian Church

  Marshall, Illinois

  Event + 2 days

  Things had gone from bad to worse in the cramped shelter at Olive Street Christian Church. Tensions were high, and the stranded travelers were tired of the peanut butter sandwiches and water. It was impossible to sleep in the confined space with babies crying and all the snoring. Sometime in the night, the water had stopped flowing, so the bathrooms smelled disgusting by morning.

  Zach washed his hands with hand sanitizer from his pack and tried not to touch anything, disease from surfaces touched by unwashed hands being his primary concern. Chief Baker was allowing small groups of the stranded travelers to walk down to the park to use the porta potty. Town residents had been brought down to the church to make sure that everyone went straight there and back. He was not allowing any of the stranded travelers to enter the town.

  The chief had made it clear that they were not welcome. Mr. Dean had told Zach that the chief was being pressured by concerned residents to make them move on. When Zach saw Mr. Dean huddled with Chief Baker that morning, he casually walked over, bent down, and pretended to be tying his shoelaces as he eavesdropped on their conversation.

  “I’ll hold them off as long as I can, but there is one group that I am concerned about. They have been lobbying the others and using scare tactics to gain support for pushing you folks out if the Red Cross doesn’t come through today,” Chief Baker said.

  “Have you heard anything from the Red Cross or anyone from the government today?” Mr. Dean asked.

  “The runner I sent yesterday said they were working their way down the interstates. They brought more buses to the region to help transport the interstate travelers, but they could not say how long it would be before they could make it here. He tried to get FEMA to give him some food and water to hold us over until they make it here, but they refused.”

  “That figures. If it is anything like their hurricane response time, we could die of thirst before they provide assistance.”

  “That aid would have gone a long way to ease the fears of the town about the safety of their own resources. Our townsfolk are a generous people, don’t get me wrong, but they are scared. They are afraid that there will not be enough for their own families, so that is making them less willing to share with strangers.”

  “I can see how that would be the case. I have a family. I would want to protect them too.”

  Chief Baker adjusted his police belt and stared out the front door. The civilian crew he had brought with him to maintain order at the church stood eyeing the refugees with suspicion, their expressions unfriendly.

  “Yeah, Lance Lucas and his bunch are stirring up fears with the talk of the power being out months to years and bands of roaming marauders coming to steal folks’ food, which sure ain’t helping the situation.”

  “There are always those fear mongers in every town, aren’t there? They spread their doomsday prediction and recruit followers,” Mr. Dean said, looking toward a group of men huddled in the front of the church.

  “You got some of that going on here?” Chief Baker asked, nodding his head toward the men.

  “I’m afraid so. I overheard them talking to some of the other men late last night. They were telling them that FEMA would come and put us all in concentration camps and encouraging each other not to go.”

  “What did they suggest people do, then? Surely they don’t think they can stay here in the church indefinitely.”

  “I don’t know what solutions they are advocating. When they saw me, they shut up and waited until I was out of hearing range before continuing their conversation.”

  “Well, I sure hope we don’t have a situation when that Red Cross bus gets here. I can assure them, my town’s folks won’t tolerate no funny business. I will do my best to keep the peace, but I only have so much manpower right now and no hope of backup from other police agencies.”

  “I just want to get my students and teachers on that bus and heading home before tensions boil over and things get ugly. I pray they get here before then.”

  “Me too,” Chief Baker said, walking over to the door. He turned and looked over his shoulder at the men gathered at the front.

  “Me too,” he repeated as he turned and descended the steps.

  Zach looked up and locked eyes with Mr. Dean. Neither of them spoke. Zach stood and stepped toward him, but Mr. Dean turned and walked away.

  Zach joined Jacob and Connor in the game room. They were playing a game of poker. Jacob put a stick of gum on the pile in the center of the table and turned over his cards.

  “Don’t say it, Jacob. Just do not say it again,” Connor said, shaking his head.

  Jacob leaned over and put his face near Connor.

  “Read ‘em and weep, sucka!”

  “You have to be cheating, Morton. Do you have freakin' cards s
tuffed down your pants or something? The next time I see you scratch your junk, I’m going to knock you out of that chair.”

  Connor shook a fist in Jacob Morton’s face, a broad smile plastered across his face.

  Connor shuffled the cards and dealt each of them a hand. A small boy ran over and crawled under their table and across their feet before emerging and running from another boy. The squealing of the children was grating on Zach’s nerves.

  He pulled up a chair and joined in on the card game. He eyed the men huddled around the table next to theirs. They spoke in hushed voices, no doubt planning something not good, he thought.

  “You in or out Langston?” Connor called, pulling Zach’s attention back to the game.

  Zach looked at the cards in his hand, folded them and placed them face down on the table.

  “I’m out.”

  “You are a shitty poker player, Zach. You know that,” Jacob said.

  “Yeah, I don’t have cards stuffed in my junk,” Zach laughed.

  Jacob stood and pulled on the waistband of his track pants like he would pull them down. Connor stood and shoved him.

  “Dude, don’t embarrass yourself by showing all these ladies that you are really just a little boy.”

  Zach laughed so hard that he almost fell out of his folding chair. The men at the other table shot him the stink eye. Zach rolled his eyes at them. The largest of the men stood. Jacob and Connor had their backs to the man. The big man took a step toward Zach and bumped his shoulder hard into Connor’s back. Although Connor was an inch taller, the man was broad and muscular. Zack thought Connor’s mouth often made threats that his scrawny physique could not deliver. Jacob had saved him from a beatdown several times. But even Jacob was no match for the mass of muscle with his sights on Zach.

  “Did you just roll your eyes at me, pussy?” the man growled.

  Connor made the disastrous mistake of shoving the man from behind, barely moving the hulk but pissing him off for sure. The man turned his midsection and landed a punch in the center of Connor’s chest. Stumbling backward, Conner tripped over Jacob’s chair. Falling to the floor, he clutched his chest and gasped for air.