Surviving: The Complete Series [Books 1-3]

by Westfield, Ryan

  His only real option was to hide the gear and come back later for it with a boat. He’d hide it and then start the long walk back around the lake.

  There might be boats on the shore. But it’d be easier to simply return with the Subaru, load it up, and then drive back home.

  He was mad at himself for not having thought of the solution earlier. It seemed so simple.

  Jim bit off another hunk of chocolate and set to work. It’d be tough dragging that sled far enough away, but he could do it.

  19

  Jessica

  Jessica had initially gotten interested in firearms because she’d been assaulted. She’d vowed that she’d never let it happen to herself again. She wanted to be strong. Able to defend herself. Even dangerous.

  And now, she was in the situation that was her worst fear.

  She didn’t know what they wanted from her.

  So far, they just seemed to be enjoying her struggle. It was entertainment to them. Nothing more. They didn’t see her as a human being with thoughts and concerns of her own. Or, if they did, it only added to their amusement.

  When she’d broken free from the cords that had bound her, they’d pointed the gun at her, approached her, and backhanded her hard across the face.

  They’d kneed her in the stomach, and she’d doubled over in pain. The next thing she knew, she was tied up again with the very same cords that she had just managed to undo.

  She was trying to look at the upside of all of this. Not because she was some sort of sunny-side up Pollyanna person. But because she was practical.

  If there was a way out of this, she needed to know it. And she wouldn’t find it by sulking and thinking about how unlucky she was or how unfair the situation was. No, that wouldn’t do her any good.

  Her captors were nearby. She’d had a hard time seeing them, since she was lying again on the ground, immobilized, and her field of sight was limited.

  But she’d seen them breaking out dirty little plastic bags filled with powders. She’d come to the unmistakable conclusion that they were drug addicts, getting ready for their next fix.

  Good. That was one advantage she already had over them.

  She’d heard them chuckling, out of view, chatting in low voices, presumably about how they were going to torture her just for kicks.

  Or who knew. Maybe they were planning on selling her off. It wouldn’t surprise her. That kind of stuff had happened with regularity before the EMP. And after? It was a wide-open market for anyone who wanted to get interested. Sure, the old networks and lines of communication might suffer. But that sort of criminal behavior would always find a way. If it was possible to profit off the intense suffering of another human being, there’d always be some dark soul ready to take up the yoke and get to work at the dirty business ahead.

  When her captors stopped talking and laughing, she assumed that they were nodding off, fully overtaken by the drugs they’d consumed.

  So, she set to work.

  Methodically and carefully and quickly.

  She used the same methods she’d used previously.

  It was faster this time. Maybe five minutes all told.

  Soon, she was standing there, free once again of the cords that had bound her.

  She was still in the clearing in the woods. She turned to look at her captors.

  They were pathetic. Worthless lumps of nothing.

  One had his eyes closed. The other, his eyes were open, but it was as if he saw nothing at all, just staring straight up at the gray sky and the tops of the trees.

  Jessica waited while her legs regained feeling again. The pins and needles feeling was strong. As she waited for it to pass, her eyes scanned the ground.

  She spotted a large stick.

  Her legs were ready.

  She strode forward, picking up the stick as she walked.

  One of the men stirred. The one with his eyes open. His big dumb eyes with the small pupils turned towards her. He muttered something, drool oozing down his chin. His hand spasmed as it tried to reach for something.

  But it was too late.

  Jessica had the stick swinging in a long arc. She knew how to swing it, really putting her hips into it, using all her body weight, her one leg extended out as if she was playing baseball.

  The stick connected with the man’s face. He let out an “ouff.”

  Jessica wasn’t done. He was clutching his face as she swung again, this time making contact with the side of his head.

  There was rage inside her. Rage and anger at her captors. She wanted revenge.

  But she knew that she couldn’t let herself get carried away by the emotions.

  After all, what she wanted most was simply to escape. To live. She wasn’t going to let herself get in the way of that. No matter what.

  While his buddy slept, the man tried to fight back.

  His coordination wasn’t good. His hands didn’t seem to be doing him any favors.

  So he did the next best thing. He used his bulk

  He launched himself forward, right into Jessica.

  He hit her hard, and she fell to the ground heavily.

  The fall knocked the air out of her lungs.

  The man was heavy, and right on top of her. His hands were fumbling for her neck, seemingly not able to grasp on completely. So instead, he pushed his knees into her chest. Hard.

  Jessica was gasping for air.

  She didn’t have much longer.

  She needed air.

  Her head turned to the side, looking for something. Anything that could be a weapon.

  A rock.

  Sitting there. Heavy and perfect.

  It was mere inches away from her hand.

  She pushed her arm as far as it could go, shifting her body to the right.

  Her fingers wrapped around the rock, and she wasted no time. She brought it up swiftly. As hard as she could.

  The rock collided with the man’s skull.

  His eyes opened up, his pupils rolling back.

  A horrible sound.

  Blood on the rock.

  He started teetering, slumping off of her and onto the ground. He wasn’t yet dead, but he was close. Jessica doubted that recovery would be possible for him, even in a pre-EMP world with hospitals and attentive doctors.

  The other man had been unconscious through the entire exchange.

  But he stirred now, his eyes opening and latching onto Jessica.

  Jessica had been lucky once. She couldn’t count on it happening again.

  She turned on her heel and started sprinting as fast as she could.

  She didn’t care what direction she was headed.

  She just needed to get away.

  She had no gun. The man, however, was armed. She had no way of knowing what state he’d been in now, whether he’d able to shoot or not.

  She wasn’t going to take any risks.

  The sounds of the woods became almost silent as she ran, her own sounds taking over. All she heard was the sound of her own ragged breath, and her feet pounding on the dirt.

  She ran through the trees, zigzagging in case there was a gun trained on her.

  She didn’t look back. Instead, she put all her effort into simply getting away as fast as possible. Getting as far away as possible.

  Up ahead, there was a house.

  She hadn’t been expecting it. She’d thought she was in the middle of the woods, at some campground.

  But it quickly became apparent that she’d merely been in a large backyard.

  The trees ended and she entered the backyard, which was mostly clear, except for some things scattered around, like a motorcycle exhaust system, and an ancient, rotting sedan.

  The house had been nice once, but it had gone to seed years ago. Some windows were broken, and many decorative shutters had fallen away and never been replaced. There had once been a nice porch on the rear of the house, jutting out from what seemed to be the kitchen, but it was falling away now, crumbling into a mess of rot
ting, wet wood.

  Jessica finally turned around.

  The man was pursuing her. Running through the trees. Holding a gun. He didn’t seem to be in a stupor.

  She caught just a glimpse of his expression. Nothing but rage. Rage and revenge.

  Jessica kept running, her feet slapping hard on the ground, and, soon, the driveway that ran down the side of the house.

  There was no point in trying to seek shelter inside the house. She’d merely trap herself. She’d be like a caged animal.

  Unless she could find something to defend herself with.

  What were the chances of that? Unless she found a firearm, she’d be stuck with a kitchen knife at best. Or a baseball bat.

  And her pursuer had a firearm.

  No. It’d be better to keep running. Get into the street. Cut across to some other house. Disappear into the woods, zigzagging once again through the trees.

  Her odds weren’t good. She knew that.

  It seemed like the man was gaining on her. He was fast for a junkie. Maybe his muscles were as numb as his mind, incapable of feeling pain. Maybe it was just the idea of vengeance that motivated him, pushing him on and on.

  The driveway was long and tree-lined.

  Jessica chose the busted-up pavement, rather than weaving through the trees. It was surer footing, even though it meant she’d be an easier target. She didn’t think he was close enough yet to get a good shot at her.

  Once she hit the street, she knew she’d really be at risk. She’d be out in the open, whereas the driveway did curve a little.

  Suddenly, she heard the noise of an engine whining. It sounded familiar. And loud, intensely high-pitched, as if something was going wrong.

  The vehicle represented a new threat.

  But she couldn’t turn around.

  She couldn’t stop.

  So she kept running.

  She was about halfway down the driveway. Rounding a curve, she could see the road up ahead.

  A car appeared, taking her by surprise by turning, bumping into the driveway.

  It was speeding right towards her. Its engine was whining.

  Light glinted off the windshield. She couldn’t see who drove it.

  There was hardly any time to act. The car was really bolting down the driveway at a terrific speed.

  Not wanting to stop running, she veered off to the right. She hoped that she could use one of the trees as a barrier. If the driver wanted to run her over, it’d be more difficult with a tree in between them.

  Before she could even get to the side of the driveway, the car had almost reached her.

  Jessica suddenly recognized it. It was Jim’s Subaru.

  The Subaru wagon slammed to a sudden stop. The driver door swung open.

  Jessica felt her heart swelling, hope appearing for the first time. Jim had come to rescue her. Jim, always capable and cool-headed. He was the guy who always seemed to know what to do, no matter what the situation.

  But Jim didn’t step out.

  Rob did.

  Jessica’s heart dropped.

  But at least he had a gun.

  “Get in!” he screamed at her, waving his hand violently.

  Jessica was over at the passenger door in a flash.

  She grabbed the handle and pulled. But the door didn’t open.

  “It’s locked!” she screamed.

  The man who pursued her had disappeared from view. But she knew that he was out there. She knew in her bones that he wasn’t going to give up easily.

  Jim would have had the door already unlocked.

  “Shit,” muttered Rob, throwing himself back into the driver’s seat, and fumbling with the controls on the door.

  After a few frantic tries, where she and Rob couldn’t coordinate, the door opened and Jessica threw herself into the passenger’s seat.

  “Get us the hell out of here,” she shouted. There wasn’t time to ask how he’d found her, why he was here, or what his plan was.

  Not that his plans would have mattered. The only thing that was clear was that they needed to leave. Quickly.

  Rob was fumbling with the gearshift, jamming his feet against the pedals.

  He stalled the Subaru once, the gears and engine making a rough sound as the car jumped and stopped abruptly.

  Then he stalled it again.

  “He’s coming!” said Jessica, pointing through the windshield.

  Sure enough, he was coming.

  On his motorcycle.

  Apparently, he wasn’t affected by the drugs. At least not enough to prevent him from riding his bike.

  Somehow, the man held a shotgun, the barrel against his chest, facing the sky.

  He was speeding right towards them.

  Rob tried again. This time, it worked, and the Subaru rocketed backwards down the driveway, the engine whining.

  20

  Aly

  Aly was in a lot of pain. She was feeling stronger, but the pain was getting worse. It was strange. Like some sort of paradox.

  She was also getting hungry. She was just lying there in bed, with her stomach rumbling. Sure, she’d been hungry basically since the EMP. But this was a new type of hunger. A serious hunger.

  Maybe it was a good sign. Maybe it was a sign that she was starting to heal. After all, the body needed energy in order to rebuild itself. That’s what her mother had always said.

  She’d tried to avoid thinking about her mother. Dead in her house. Just lying there. No chance of burying her. It was horrible. Tremendously horrible.

  Aly shuddered.

  She needed to think about something else.

  The only other thing she could think about was food.

  “Jordan!” she called out. “You think you could bring me something to eat?”

  It wasn’t a good situation. Just her and Jordan alone in the house. And she wasn’t in much of a position to defend herself if something should have happened.

  But so far things had been quiet.

  Sure, she was worried about the others. Especially her husband. But that was the world they lived in now. There were no calm, peaceful commutes to work, or trips to the pharmacy, where you knew your loved ones were statistically extremely likely to return home safe and sound.

  It was a new world.

  And Aly figured she’d better get used to it.

  There was no answer from Jordan.

  In fact, she hadn’t heard from him in quite a while. Hours, at the very least.

  She tried once more, yelling his name as loudly as she could.

  She waited, hoping to hear his footsteps, his uneasy gait as he came ambling towards her room.

  But there was nothing.

  Aly looked around the room.

  There was nothing more to eat.

  She decided to get up and get something herself. She could do it. To hell with everyone telling her that she needed to stay in bed. She’d always been stubborn, but that was only because she knew what was best for her.

  Plus, what if something had happened to Jordan? He was old, after all. And in terrible health by all accounts. Or at least he should have been, after the way he’d treated his body over the years.

  She didn’t want to be alone there in the house without realizing it.

  Someone might come.

  It took considerable effort, but Aly managed to get herself out of bed.

  She used a light straight-backed chair that was nearby as a sort of makeshift cane, pushing it in front of herself on the floor as she walked, leaning down and putting a lot of her weight on it.

  By the time she got into the hallway, she was already breathing heavily from exertion.

  She didn’t know how much farther she could go. Could she make it all the way through the house?

  She called out his name one last time, yelling as loud as she could.

  No answer.

  She kept going, pushing the chair, letting it scratch up the floors. Not that it mattered anymore what the floors looked like. And she won
dered whether it ever had, in the sense that maybe they’d all been concentrating on the wrong things before the EMP. How much easier would their lives be right now if they had done a little bit of preparing before the actual event? What if they’d put aside a little fund, a little extra money, using it once a month to buy supplies, building up a stockpile? What if they’d come up with plans, designated meeting places, and everything of the sort?

  There wasn’t much point in thinking about it now. Except in terms of things that they could implement in the future. Without communication devices like cell phones, carefully laid-out plans and rendezvous spots should have been a basic requirement.

  Aly wound her way through the entire house. Eventually, she found Jordan slumped against the wall in a corner, behind an armchair.

  It was as if he’d been hiding from her.

  He was unconscious, his eyes closed, drool coming out of his mouth.

  One of his arms was stretched out, and in his hand, he loosely held a bottle of something. Hard liquor, most likely. Or maybe moonshine, for all Aly knew. Maybe even absinthe. Or rubbing alcohol. She wouldn’t put anything past Jordan.

  Despite her weakness, Aly managed to give Jordan a weak kick in the stomach.

  But there was no rousing him. He was out for good.

  Fine. Whatever. She’d get herself something to eat.

  Hopefully, nothing would happen. Hopefully, no one would show up looking for a fight, looking to steal, looking to murder whoever they could simply out of anger and frustration at the way the world had finally turned out.

  Aly was making her way to the kitchen, still using the chair for support, when she passed by a candle that Jordan must have lit for some extra light.

  Despite the candle, it was hard to see. The blinds had all been drawn as a security feature. It wasn’t a good idea to let someone see inside the house, to see who was there, to see what kinds of supplies were there.

  Aly’s chair knocked into something. She was weak and it was hard to get it to go exactly where she wanted it.

  To her horror, she watched as the table that she’d bumped into wobbled. It was a long coffee table in front of the couch, and the lit candle rested on top of it.