Survival EMP Box Set | Books 1-4

by Lopez, Rob

  Rick, his face set, continued his approach. Yorkin swung the shotgun toward him, but stopped short when he saw Scott looking at him over the M4 sights, finger on the trigger.

  “It’s my daughter I’m protecting,” protested Yorkin.

  Rick halted, leaving the way clear for Scott to shoot if necessary.

  “You put that gun down now,” hissed Rick to Yorkin, barely able to contain his temper.

  “You’d do the same if it was your daughter,” said Yorkin, starting to sweat.

  “I told you, I never touched her,” called the younger Clement.

  “You shut your mouth,” retorted Yorkin. “I’ll deal with you later.”

  “I’m giving you till the count of five to drop your weapon,” barked Rick.

  “A man’s got the right to protect what’s his,” retaliated Yorkin, though his voice cracked when he spoke.

  The shotgun was only half-pointed in Rick’s direction, and he took a chance. With two strides he reached Yorkin, grabbed the barrel and punched the man in the face. Yorkin stumbled back.

  “You didn’t count to five,” he complained, holding his bleeding nose.

  Rick still had his grip on the shotgun and, with one wrench, tore it loose. Turning to point to the elder Clement, he called out, “And you drop it, too.”

  The elder Clement seemed reluctant to yield his advantage, but Scott turned to aim his M4 at him. With a scowl, the elder Clement dropped the rifle. He watched as Scott came forward to pick it up.

  “I’ve had it up to here with you people,” bawled Rick. “I’ve seen kids act smarter.”

  “It weren’t my fault,” said the younger Clement.

  “I’ve got a right to protect my daughter from being violated,” said Yorkin.

  “No one’s violating anybody,” said Rick. “We’re in this together, whether you like it or not. Things ain’t so good that we can afford to start fighting each other.”

  “Hey, you’re the one who hit me,” said Yorkin.

  Rick stabbed him in the chest with his finger. “And I’ll hit you again if you don’t shut your mouth.”

  Scott wandered over and interposed himself between Rick and Yorkin.

  “What gives you the right to be giving us orders?” said Yorkin from behind Scott’s back.

  Scott gave Rick a cautionary look, indicating he should back off and cool down. Then he turned to Yorkin. “What’s your daughter got to say about all this?” he asked him.

  “She denies it all,” said Yorkin sullenly, “but she would.”

  “Seems to me like we’re kind of short on evidence,” said Scott.

  “That’s what I was saying,” called the elder Clement.

  “Shut up,” shouted Rick to him.

  “We need a people’s forum,” continued Scott. “Anything that affects us as a community needs to be talked about, because right now we’ve got a lot of misconceptions, and it ain’t good to just leave this be. We need to have it out.”

  There was some grumbling, but no one had any better ideas, so on Scott’s direction, the opposing parties made their way back to camp, eyeing each other warily.

  “People’s forum?” said Rick as they walked on behind.

  Scott shrugged. “Well, it seemed like the kind of thing you would have suggested if you weren’t so riled up.”

  Rick frowned. “I’m not so good at this civic leader shit.”

  “That all it is? Strikes me you’re still a little tetchy about Josh going off with Red.”

  “He never asked me if I wanted to go with him,” sulked Rick.

  Scott chuckled. “He’s growing up. He wants to be independent. And Red knows deer hunting. You don’t.”

  “I don’t need you rubbing it in.”

  “Hey, everyone thinks that just because we were special forces, we know everything. Of all people, I didn’t think you’d fall for that as well.”

  “I don’t. It’s just …”

  “Yeah, I know. You’re his pop and you think he should have waited for you.”

  Rick sighed. “I tried to make up for not being around.”

  “You’re around, now.”

  “Not according to Lauren.”

  “Like I said, you’re not going to be good at everything.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Give it time. Everyone’s got to find their role. I say we make Chuck the elder of the tribe. Everyone trusts him, so he can do the mediating. Let him run a council.”

  “And what do we do?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe our time’s done. Relax and let others run the show.”

  “I hate relaxing.”

  “I can see that. Try running a movie club or something.”

  “Funny.”

  “Not as funny as you sulking when your kid wants to do his own thing.”

  “Did I ever mention you’d make a lousy therapist?”

  “Yeah, but I make a great pain in the ass.”

  Emerging from the woods, they saw Packy’s Blazer driving fast into the camp. That was nothing new, but when Packy leaped out and began yelling frantically to people, Rick and Scott immediately got the sense that something was wrong. Breaking into a run, they saw that the Blazer was riddled like Swiss cheese.

  Dee got out of the vehicle. When Lauren didn’t follow, Rick increased his pace.

  “Aw man, I’m sorry,” said Packy as Rick got close.

  “What happened?” demanded Rick.

  “It’s Lauren, man. They got her.”

  “Who’s got her?”

  “People at Black Mountain. They took her down. I saw her take a hit.”

  Rick grabbed his shoulders. “How bad?”

  “I don’t know. I saw her fall, then I saw her moving. I tried to get to her, but …”

  “But what?”

  “There was too many of them, man.”

  “How many?”

  “Didn’t have time to count, but it might have been around fifteen. They were well armed.”

  Rick released him and turned to Scott, who’d just caught up. “Get everyone assembled, we’re heading out.” Throwing the shotgun back to Yorkin, Rick told him, “You want to fight? Now’s your chance.” Before the surprised man could reply, Rick turned back to Packy. “Get to Camp Grier. Rustle everyone you can and catch up with us. And bring Sally. Tell her to have a medical bag ready.”

  Bewildered settlers ran around, looking for their rifles. “I’m sorry, man,” said Packy. “I feel bad about this.”

  Rick ignored him. Striding through the camp he yelled out, “Start the cars. Mount up!”

  30

  Connors arrived at the Black Mountain police station at the head of a convoy. Fick waited for him outside.

  “Did I hear the news right?” said Connors as he stepped out of his car.

  “You did,” said Fick casually. “She’s inside.”

  “Is she talking?”

  “Nope. But her husband knows she’s here. Or at least he will soon, so you don’t have to worry about finding him. I’ve sent the squads to the east barricade.”

  “Has he got a lot of people with him?”

  “Can’t say, but I heard he wiped out a group of raiders at Round Knob. I think it’s safe to assume he didn’t do it alone.”

  Connors leaned back inside the car. “Get everyone to the east barricade,” he told Leon, who was at the wheel. “Prepare a defense, but hold back a reserve, just in case. We could have a real battle on our hands this time.”

  Leon nodded and pulled out, leading the convoy away. Militiamen packed the vehicles.

  “Let’s see what the good lady has to say for herself,” said Connors as he followed Fick into the police station. “Did she put up much of a fight?”

  “She was unarmed. Took a bullet in the leg. Barbara’s hobos wanted to string her up.”

  Connors chuckled. “I’ll bet they did.”

  A small knot of protesters stood outside the station entrance, some still holding placards, but the sight of the mi
litia subdued them to silence. Three local deputies waited nervously inside. They’d been told they had a killer behind bars, and that a large band of bandits were on their way to secure her release. Connors found Lauren in a cell in the basement.

  “They treating you well?” asked Connors, eyeing her bandaged leg.

  Seated on a bench at the back of the cell, Lauren said nothing, her face set like stone.

  Fick brought Connors a chair, and the major sat to observe Lauren through the bars. “My name is Major Connors, and I believe we’ve met, though I daresay it was a few years ago and, well, I guess we’ve all changed since then. I met a lot of my men’s wives in that time, and they all kind of blend together in my memory. Can I confirm that you are, indeed, Mrs. Nolan, the wife of the man who used to be Sergeant Nolan?”

  Lauren stared at him with contempt, the bloodied scrape on her chin making her appear even more pugnacious.

  “I’ll assume you recognize me,” said Connors, “and that you are indeed who we think you are. Do you understand your predicament?”

  Lauren remained silent.

  “Do you have children, Mrs. Nolan?”

  Lauren’s eyes burned.

  “Well, it pains me to say this, but your husband’s a rogue element. Right now, I would class him as a deserter who needs to be apprehended. We can’t have serving men and women of our military doing their own thing, can we? If you help us to persuade him to give himself up, I can see to it that you get to see your children again. You’re being held on a charge of murder, but with the right representation, we could get that down to imperfect self-defense. Your husband needn’t suffer much. A reprimand and a chance to return to active duty will suffice. A small price to pay to be able to return home, right? And it’s all down to you.”

  Lauren said nothing.

  “Time’s running out, Mrs. Nolan. Your actions this day could mean the difference between life and death. Literally, in your case.”

  Lauren watched him for a while. When she finally spoke, she weighed her words carefully. “If I’m being held for murder, why do you want my husband?”

  “Accessory to murder,” said Connors. “Harboring a fugitive. Desertion in the face of duty. Failure to report-in after a classified operation. Failure to obey a written order. Possession of an automatic weapon. Breaking into and occupying private property. It’s a long list, but these are all speculative charges. I’m sure an interview with your husband can clear them up. I’m not an unreasonable man, Mrs Nolan, and considering the gravity of the charges, I don’t think I’m asking too much. As a sworn officer of the United States Army, I have a duty to ensure our citizens can go about their lawful business in a safe manner.”

  “Not according to the Constitution. That’s a job for the police.”

  “I don’t see the need to quibble over minor details. I’m simply exercising the powers granted to me by the state governor.”

  “No,” said Lauren. “I was in Iraq and I recognize these tactics. You’re acting like an occupying force fighting an insurgency.”

  “That’s just your opinion.”

  “That’s what I see and I don’t trust you. I’m not giving my husband up.”

  Connors stood up and made a show of regret. “I’m trying to save lives here, but if you don’t want to play ball, so be it. It’s on your head.”

  As he turned to go, Lauren called out, “What do you have against my husband? What did he do to you?”

  Connors glanced back. “He didn’t tell you?”

  “No.”

  Connors shook his head. “What kind of man keeps secrets like that from his wife?”

  “What secrets?”

  “What if I told you he tried to obstruct an investigation into the death of a fine, upstanding soldier, and tried to hide his own culpability by making false allegations against others?”

  “He wouldn’t do that.”

  “Wouldn’t he? Seems to me you don’t know your husband as well as you think you do. Still willing to protect him?”

  “You’re lying.”

  “Sure. Go ahead and think that. Meanwhile, your children run the risk of becoming orphans. Stubbornness has a price. Are you willing to reconsider?”

  “You lying, disgusting creep!”

  “I’ll take that as no.”

  Connors left the cell area and shut the door behind him.

  “Shall we give her a few more minutes and work on her again?” asked Fick.

  Connors shook his head. “We’ve wasted enough time already. Let’s finish this.”

  31

  Rick drove like a man possessed, speeding ahead of the other vehicles coming from Round Knob. Within sight of the Black Mountain barricade on the interstate, he skidded to a halt while still out of range and dismounted. He wasn’t prepared to wait for the others to arrive.

  “When the others get here,” he told Scott, “bring them around on a flanking maneuver.”

  “This isn’t a good idea,” said Scott.

  “Just do it,” snapped Rick.

  Climbing the sparsely wooded embankment that separated the interstate from Old Highway 70, Rick advanced swiftly through the trees. The spring growth had only just started, and there was precious little cover that couldn’t be seen through, so when he got to within three hundred yards of the barricade, he attracted a warning shot. Counting no more than seven heads at the barricade, he fired two shots, crouched low and continued his advance. The ground dipped ahead, and he crossed the highway and ascended a slope covered in thicket, looking for a position to overlook the barricade. Incoming fire increased as the defenders probed his position, but Rick kept moving on what was becoming a one-man flanking maneuver. Reaching the top of the crest, he threw himself down, steadied his rifle and began sniping at targets, looking to force their heads down until the rest of his guys arrived. Then he’d assault the barricade.

  Ahead of him, down in a hollow, was the blue roof of a house. An upper window was smashed open, and rifle fire blasted divots out of the ground near his face. Rick hastily pulled back until he was out of sight, but fire from the barricade soon ranged on him. Kissing the dirt, Rick slid back farther.

  The first of his militia arrived, slow-crawling the last few yards to get to his position and flinching nervously as bullets zinged overhead.

  “You three,” said Rick, pointing, “start putting down fire on that barricade. The rest of you, come with me.”

  Striking out right, he led them on a circular route to assault the blue-roofed house from the side. As they advanced through a small stand of trees, a machine gun opened up from a house by an electricity substation. With bullets and bark flying through the air, his squad dropped to the ground and refused to move farther.

  It slowly dawned on Rick that an efficient defense line had been created. Determined to break through, he left his men and made another foray to the right, creeping along the fence of the substation. Reaching the edge of the high ground and looking down into a small valley, he saw two vehicles coming down a road from Black Mountain. He fired some shots at the lead vehicle, which slammed on the brakes. As he continued to fire, the armed occupants of both vehicles dashed out and took cover behind houses nearby. One fell as he was wounded, but managed to crawl out of sight behind a garage. While Rick reloaded, those behind the houses began firing back.

  He could go no farther alone. Far to his left, the gunfire intensified, with substantial bursts coming from the machine gun. Pulling back, he crawled past the substation and found his men still pinned down. Daunted by the vicious coverage of the machine gun, they weren’t even firing back. Over by the highway, the battle continued to rage.

  Scott appeared with the Clement brothers, ducking low as the bullets flew.

  “Two vehicles have arrived in the valley,” said Rick. “Take a squad and keep them pinned down. I’ll get some men and flank them. Once we’ve taken them out, we’ll deal with the machine gun.”

  “We’ve got no more men,” said Scott. “Reinforceme
nts from Camp Grier haven’t arrived yet, but a bunch of vehicles have come down the highway, and we’ve got movement on the other side of the interstate. We’re outnumbered and they’re going to cut us off from our vehicles. We need to pull back.”

  “No!”

  “Rick, we need to deal with the left flank before they surround us.”

  It was a sound strategy, but Rick could only think of Lauren, injured and held against her will. Torn between common sense and desire, he reluctantly conceded Scott’s point. Pulling back the men hiding from the machine gun, he led them to the embankment overlooking the interstate.

  The gravity of the situation became clear. The men at the barricade had been heavily reinforced, and there were vehicles and shooters everywhere. A squad of men with identifying green scarves moved on the other side of the far embankment. The enemy, whoever they were, were organized and better led than Rick anticipated.

  Rick snapped a couple of shots at the moving squad, who immediately ducked down. A few crawled to the top of the embankment and fired back. The firing from the barricade, meanwhile, while sporadic and inaccurate, was intense enough to preclude a counter-attack across the exposed interstate. Scott rallied the three shooters on the crest to place their shots more carefully on the barricade defenders, but Rick’s barely experienced militia were too intimidated by the return fire to be truly effective. For their part, the enemy also seemed to be amateurs, and were easily halted, resulting in a hastily aimed, long range shootout. Rick expended his second magazine, aware that both ammo and morale would soon be an issue. One of his men tried to bandage a bleeding hand, and another took a shot to the face that sent him tumbling down the embankment, screaming out in pain.

  Loading his third magazine, Rick flinched as a shot hit the ground close to his face. It came from the right flank, and he turned to see figures moving toward them from the substation. Held at the front and hit from both flanks, his men were about to be squeezed. Rick reacted according to his training and charged the attackers on the right flank, joined by Scott. Switching their weapons to automatic, the two men braved the bullets and advanced in bounds, firing short, accurate bursts. One of the attackers, surprised by the sudden counterattack, was caught in the open and took hits to the chest. Another who tried to back away was hit in the same way and fell to the ground without a sound. The others dropped down into the undergrowth. Rick raked the foliage and waved his men forward, seizing the opportunity to break the line and get things moving again.