Surviving The End (Book 3): New World

by Hamilton, Grace

  James nodded. “You, Corbin, and Mike take Owen home. I insist. The rest of us will clean up the school. If we can’t handle it, I’ll get word to you somehow. Trust me.”

  The posse seemed to accept this. Shane turned to his son. He didn’t feel right about leaving the posse with fewer guns, but in the bright sunlight, he could see that Owen was in worse condition than he’d initially seemed. His face was swollen, he walked with a limp, and he seemed to be cradling one arm. When Owen realized his dad was studying his injuries, he frowned.

  “Sorry, Dad, I tried not to tell them anything. I really messed up, didn’t I? I was just afraid if Trent punched me one more time…”

  Shane put an arm around him. “These are dangerous people. They know how to get what they want. I don’t know if any of us would have done better. Come on. You and Mike both need to see Dr. Yates so he can treat your wounds, and we have to deal with poor Gary there.”

  “His death is my fault,” Owen said, tears in his eyes.

  “No, Trent and his gang are to blame for all of this,” Shane said, “and we’ll hold them responsible soon enough.”

  As they walked back through the neighborhood, they broke into two groups. James and the townsfolk dragged Gary’s body in the direction of the coroner’s house. Shane, Corbin, Owen, and Mike headed home. When they got there, they rattled the windchimes until the front door swung open.

  Jodi and Amelia came running first.

  “They’re back,” Amelia shouted over her shoulder. “They got Owen!”

  Jodi threw open the gate. As she went to hug her son, Amelia slipped in front of her and hugged him first. Corbin helped a hobbling Mike into the house, as Shane quickly filled Jodi in on what had occurred at the high school.

  “We need to go after the rest of the gang,” Shane said. “As far as we know, both the gang and the some of the townsfolk are still inside the school.”

  Corbin helped Mike to the living room couch and gently set him down. As he did, Libby came running with a first aid kit from the hall bathroom. For a few minutes, all was chaos, with people moving in every direction, talking over each other, until Shane couldn’t keep up. He made his way to the dining room table, where Beth sat quietly nursing an enamelware cup of tea.

  “Corbin, thank you so much for going down there,” Jodi was saying. “You probably saved their lives.”

  “I should’ve shot sooner,” Corbin replied, “or I should’ve gone for the head. It would’ve spared Mike.”

  “Mike is alive,” Jodi said. “Owen is alive. That’s more than enough.”

  Shane sat down across from Beth and traded a weary look with her. She didn’t seem well. Her color wasn’t good, and she was grimacing as if in pain. She brought the cup to her lip, then seemed to change her mind and set it back down.

  “Are you okay, Beth?” Shane asked.

  She shook her head, and this time she did take a sip, a rather long one, though it seemed to require extra effort.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “I don’t want people to worry,” she replied.

  “We’re already worried. We might as well know the full extent of what we’re supposed to be worrying about.”

  She took another sip, letting the cup linger against her lips. Finally, she set the cup down again and said, “I’m having a little trouble breathing, and my heart is racing.”

  Indeed, it was another thing to worry about, and it seemed, on top of everything thing, like a cruel joke. An armed gang had besieged the town, and in the midst of it, the matriarch of the family was experiencing a possible heart attack.

  “How long have you been experiencing chest pains?” Shane asked.

  He said it loud enough that others heard, and the family began to congregate in the dining room.

  “Not long,” Beth said.

  “Mother, have you seen the doctor about this?” Jodi asked.

  “Yes, we discussed it.” Beth started to rise from her seat, but she swooned. Jodi rushed to her side and grabbed her, easing her back into the seat. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “It’s an enlarged heart,” Beth said. She reached for her coffee cup but fumbled at it for a few seconds before giving up. “I’m growing burdock and dandelions. Once those are ripe, I’ll be in much better shape. Burdock root and dandelion root are good for heart health. Anyway, what’s the point of discussing it? We have more urgent matters to attend to.”

  “More urgent that an enlarged heart?” Jodi practically shouted, hugging her mother. “Not so much!”

  Beth winced.

  Just then, the windchime at the front gate began ringing like crazy outside. Corbin went outside and opened the gate, returning a moment later with James. The sheriff was sweating profusely, large stains around his armpits and chest, his hat sitting far back on his head. The Glock dangled from his right hand, but he quickly holstered it as he moved into the living room.

  “They’re gone,” he said loudly.

  “What do you mean by that?” Shane asked, rising from the dining room table.

  “The gang,” James said, struggling to catch his breath. “We chased a remnant of them out of the high school, but most of them were already gone.”

  James made his way through the crowd and leaned against the edge of the dining room table.

  “What happened?” Shane asked.

  “Dr. Yates is taking care of the wounded at the high school,” James said. “They’d roughed up a lot of people—interrogating them, I assume—and killed a few. Trent strangled Mayor Frank. He wanted to know where the rest of the food was, and when our dear mayor hesitated to tell him, Trent wrapped his hands around his throat and slowly squeezed. Made him suffer a long time, from what I was told.”

  “Oh, God,” Shane said, sitting back down. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for the mayor, despite the trouble he’d caused the family. He’d been a weak and waffling leader, and he’d made a really stupid decision, yet the thought of the man being strangled to death sickened Shane. “Poor Frank.”

  “Don’t feel sorry for him,” James said. He pulled a handkerchief out of his shirt pocket and began dabbing his cheeks and forehead. “He eventually told Trent everything. He told him there’s a huge cache of food hidden at Beth’s house. Trent kept choking him anyway, but not before getting the address.”

  All sympathy fled, leaving only cold, hateful terror. His heart racing, Shane turned to his wife. She was still holding her mother, as if to keep her safe, even as Beth grimaced and pressed her hands to her chest.

  “They’ll be coming here next,” James said, fixing his hat. “For food…and for revenge.”

  26

  Taking deep breaths eventually made the light-headedness diminish, but it wasn’t easy. Beth felt like all was mayhem around her, people shouting, cursing, moving around. Despite her pain, and the sense of impending doom that so filled her, she managed to work out the particulars of their situation. The biker gang had been chased out of the high school, and they were on their way to the house.

  “We have time to run for it,” Shane said. “Run and hide until they give up. We got Owen back safe and sound. I don’t want to risk anyone else. The bikers aren’t likely to find the subbasement, so the food should be safe, and if they damage the house, we can repair it.”

  “Not if they burn the house to the ground,” Jodi said. “We could lose absolutely everything, including the food in the subbasement.”

  “The subbasement walls and doors are fireproof,” Beth said, “and the room has its own ventilation. The heat might be a problem, though. I’m not sure if it would survive the intense, prolonged heat.”

  James began fanning his face with his hat, but it did little good. He was just about the sweatiest man Beth had ever seen, though, in a strange way, it made him seem heroic and rather handsome. “There’s another problem to consider,” he said. “We have injured people who need treatment: Mike and Owen.”

  “And Beth,” Shane said.

  James
gave her a look of alarm. He knew about her chest pain. He was one of the few she’d told.

  “Let’s face it,” Jodi said, “there’s no running away from this. Where are we going to run? We have injured people, sick people, children and dogs. I hate to say it, but I think we have to stay and fight.” She reached across the table and rested her hand on top of Shane’s. “I think we take a stand here and now, or we’re finished.”

  Somehow, the pain and discomfort brought anger to Beth faster than usual. She hated the idea of running from these people, despised the possibility that they would raze her beloved home to the ground. Rising up in her seat, pushing against Jodi’s smothering arms, she said, “It’s not time to run. It’s time to fight. Fight with everything in our power. Make them regret they ever came to this town.”

  The room got very quiet. Beth looked up and saw everyone staring at her. Something in her voice had commanded their full attention. Shane started to speak again, but she didn’t give him a chance.

  “Look, I’m in no condition to run,” she said. “Let’s face it. And we can’t take any of the vehicles. The sound would give us away, and they’d just give chase on their bikes. If we lose the house, and especially if lose the food in the subbasement, we’re done for. We’ll have nothing. Can you imagine? Certain death. I didn’t work hard all those years to build up my storehouse just to flee the second someone tries to take it from me. No, we have to stay and fight for what’s ours. That’s it.” She looked at every face, one by one, letting her seriousness sink in.

  The room was quiet for long seconds. Only Mike’s pained breathing from the couch could be heard. Finally, Shane nodded and cleared his throat. “What are the odds Trent and his gang will wait until nightfall? The dark would be to their advantage.”

  “They’re not here yet,” James said, “so they are definitely regrouping. Yes, I think it’s likely they’ll wait for darkness. At this point, we’re talking about twenty or so people. We didn’t kill very many. Four confirmed dead, two more who were critically wounded. That leaves a lot of able-bodied brutes, and they’re armed to the teeth. They’ll have the advantage in a straight gun battle, I think, even with the house providing cover.”

  Beth was daydreaming about mounting a big machine gun on the roof, something that could mow through the gang, cutting them down like weeds. That jarred loose an old memory—smoke rising above Nora’s house, a rumble rattling the living room windows.

  “Nora’s husband,” she said, gaining some quizzical looks. “A few years ago, not long before he died, he had to remove a big tree stump from the back of his property, and he used dynamite. At the time, I thought it was incredibly stupid.”

  “Yes, he got in big trouble with the county,” James added. “I remember it well.”

  “I watched that darn tree stump sail a hundred feet into the sky,” Beth said. “It landed way over beyond the next street. Maybe he left some dynamite behind. For all we know, it’s sitting in Nora’s garage. What do you figure the same amount of dynamite would do to Trent and his gang?”

  “Oh, Beth,” James said with a smile, as if she’d said something cute instead of deadly serious, “this isn’t Loony Tunes. We’re not the Coyote trying to kill the Roadrunner. None of us are trained to use dynamite. We’re as liable to blow ourselves up as anyone else. If it’s sweating in a box in Nora’s garage, it’ll be more dangerous than ever.”

  “Well, that’s a shame,” Beth replied. “I rather enjoyed the idea.”

  James put the hat back on his head. “Maybe you’re on the right track. How about instead of dynamite, we make some Molotov cocktails? They are quite a bit safer than dynamite, though we’ll still have to be careful where we throw them.”

  “We can’t worry too much about safety,” Jodi said. “What do we need to make them?”

  Beth’s notebook was sitting in the middle of the table, and he grabbed it, pulling it toward himself. With a stub of a pencil, he drew a quick sketch of a Molotov cocktail. “We need bottles, rags, gasoline, and motor oil. Gasoline we can siphon out of one of the vehicles. Rags we’ve got, I’m sure. Bottles and motor oil?”

  Beth shook her head. “We can ask the neighbors. I know Nora’s husband had a riding lawn mower. It’s still in her garage. Surely, she will help, considering the circumstances, but I’ll need to talk to her. I might have to make a trade.”

  “Do you feel up to it?” Jodi asked.

  Beth took a deep breath, held it a second, and let it out. Her chest pains were mostly gone, though she still felt a bit dizzy. She would just have to push through it. “I’m fine now,” she said.

  “Well, I’m coming with you,” Jodi replied. “You’re not going outside the fence alone.

  “You don’t have to fuss over me,” Beth said.

  “I’m not fussing.” Jodi rose. “I’m helping.”

  “Take a gun,” Shane said.

  As Beth stood up, gently pushing her chair back, she felt a bit of a wobble in her right leg. James handed Jodi the Glock in its holster.

  “Let’s go,” Beth said, once her legs were sturdy enough.

  “Hurry, please,” Shane said. “Get back here with the supplies as fast as you can. We don’t know for sure when they’ll attack.”

  Beth felt exposed, though the city was deathly quiet. She had the Glock and holster in her right hand, but being armed provided little comfort beyond the fence. As she followed Jodi across the street, she turned her gaze to the right, peering into the distance. There was no sign of their attackers, only quiet homes and empty streets as far as the eye could see. When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw James and Shane standing in the open gate, motioning her to hurry up.

  “Maybe I’m the wrong one to ask her for help,” Beth said, approaching Nora’s front door. “She may still resent me.”

  “Then we impress upon her the gravity of the situation,” Jodi said.

  “The miserable, tormented woman,” Beth said. “She made it so much harder on herself than it had to be.”

  She knocked on the front door, and it swung open. Beth felt a shiver of unease. She caught the door before it could hit the wall, but when she did, she realized the latch bolt had been taped down. She glanced at Jodi.

  “Nora?” she called.

  She could see into the living room. It was a bigger dump than ever, almost as if Nora had gone through and purposely overturned everything.

  “Nora?” she called again, stepping through door.

  As soon as she did, a foul odor invaded her nostrils, and she gagged.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Jodi said, pinching her nose shut.

  I should have checked on her again after they took her boyfriend away, Beth thought. I knew she was in a worse state of mind.

  She turned to the left, looking down a short hallway to the bathroom door. It was wide open. She moved in that direction, the sickly-sweet odor getting stronger with every step until her eyes watered.

  “Nora? Are you in here somewhere?”

  The bathroom was dark, but Beth could see the shape curled up inside the tub. There was no water in the tub, but the splash of dried blood along the inside curve was obvious. Retching, Beth grabbed her belly and turned away, as Jodi pushed past her. She stumbled back down the hallway and caught herself against the wall near the front door.

  “Slashed her wrists,” Jodi said from the bathroom. “Must’ve happened a while ago.”

  Despite all the trouble she’d had with Nora since the EMP, Beth felt the sting of tears.

  “I tried to help her,” she said, brushing the tears away on the end of her sleeve. “I really did, but maybe it wasn’t enough. Maybe I should’ve done more.”

  Jodi came back and put her arms around her. “Mother, the woman was troubled. She had a whole pantry full of food that she wouldn’t eat.”

  “I know, but it just seems like we could’ve saved her,” Beth said.

  “We can’t save everyone. We’ll be lucky if we can save ourselves. Now, we came ove
r her to get some things that might help us do that. Let’s get to work. We don’t have much time.”

  Beth dabbed her eyes again and nodded. “Okay. You’re right. It’s time to fight, not wallow.”

  For making Molotov cocktails, Nora’s house proved to be a treasure trove. She had a bunch of old whiskey bottles in a tool shed out back, a few cans of motor oil on a shelf above the old riding lawn mower, and a few gallons of gas in a plastic jerrycan. They hauled everything back over to the house, and James gave the family a crash course on making Molotov cocktails. In the end, they had a row of six lined up across the dining room table, rag-topped whiskey bottles filling the house with the pungent smell of gas and oil.

  “We’ll be ready for them,” Shane said.

  Somehow, Beth’s sadness over Nora’s death had curdled into anger, putting her in a fouler mood than ever. She stood over the dining room table, looking at their cache of weapons and incendiary devices, and she had a dark thought: I want to watch them burn.

  “Sunset is coming, folks,” James reminded them. “It’s time to take up positions.”

  “They won’t have my house,” Beth said. “I don’t care what it takes, they won’t have it.”

  27

  Shane thought long and hard about the placement of each individual in the house. His earlier plans no longer seemed suitable. He discussed it with Jodi and James, and eventually they came up with a plan everyone could live with. Violet, Kaylee, and the dogs went down to the subbasement with a couple of small flashlights.

  “The subbasement door can be locked from the inside.” Shane said, as he led Violet and Kaylee down the stairs into the underground room. It was nice and cool down there, a crisp 55 degrees, and he was tempted to linger longer than he had to. “If the gang members reach the basement, don’t open the door for them under any circumstances, no matter what they say or how they bargain. Got it, Violet? This is incredibly important.”

  Violet knelt at the bottom of the stairs, ceaselessly petting Ruby, as if seeking some comfort that would not come. “I understand, Dad. I don’t let them in no matter what they say, even if they’re holding people hostage.”