Edge of Disaster: An EMP Post-Apocalyptic Survival Prepper Series (American Fallout Book 2)

by Alex Gunwick

  “Did you see them? Are they alive?”

  “Yes. And yes. They’re alive.”

  “Why didn’t they take you too?” Liz asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Maybe they have Adam for another reason,” Harvey said. “Are you sure he’s a prisoner?”

  “He was tied to a chair,” Melinda snapped. “Of course he’s a prisoner. We have to rescue them. There’re three of us and three guards. We can take them. You have guns.”

  “If we shoot them, everyone else will come running,” Harvey said. “We don’t know where the rest of their men are hiding. They could be staked out in the area. It’s too risky to go down there right now.”

  “What are we going to do?” Melinda asked. “We can’t leave them there.”

  “We’re not going to leave them,” Liz said. “We have more people who can help, but we need to get word to them. We need reinforcements.”

  “Where are they?”

  “They’re in a perimeter around the compound,” Harvey said. “I’ll radio our location and get them over here.”

  As Harvey stepped farther into the forest, Liz took a step toward Melinda. She couldn’t let her fall apart.

  “We’re going to get the kids back and we’re going to make that bastard pay,” Liz said. “You can cry all you want later, but right now, you need to help me come up with a plan. You know the routine better than any of us. If you were going to plan a rescue, what would you do? How would you do it? And when would you do it?”

  Melinda sniffed a few times and wiped dampness from her eyes. After pulling herself together, she drew her shoulders back and returned to her full height.

  “I’d do it at midnight. The guards do a shift change around that time. Adam used to go on patrol with the other men. He’d come home or leave at midnight depending on his shift.”

  “When’s the other shift change?” Liz asked.

  “Noon.”

  “Midnight it is.”

  Burt and Tawney reached the group first, followed by Franklin and Jamie. After introducing everyone, Liz explained the situation.

  “How many men are on patrol at night?” Franklin asked.

  “Five or six,” Melinda said.

  “Minus the three at the house,” Liz said.

  “No. Those guys are new. I’ve never seen them before. And there could be more. Turner was gone for a few days. I saw him come back with five guys last night. Three of them are at the house,” Melinda said.

  “So he’s bringing on new recruits,” Harvey said.

  “Sounds like it,” Franklin said. “We need to distract the guards. A firefight is the last thing we want. We’ve got seven people. They could have ten. And we don’t know anything about their locations.”

  “Maybe we should just do reconnaissance tonight,” Burt said. “Wait until tomorrow night to make a move. The more information we can get, the better.”

  “We can’t risk it,” Liz said. “If we wait another night, the kids could be dead.”

  “My son’s in there too. I don’t want to wait. It has to be tonight.”

  “Okay,” Harvey said. “We need to pull all of the guards away. How?”

  “A fire,” Burt said. “Are there any other abandoned houses?”

  “Two. One’s up by the church. They’re using it to store firewood,” Melinda said.

  “That’s perfect. It will burn for a long time,” Liz said. “There’s no running water, so it’ll be hard to put out. We need to stay away from the stream. That’s the first place they’ll head.”

  “We have a few 55 gallon drums,” Melinda said.

  “How many?”

  “Three.”

  “Not nearly enough,” Liz said. “The fire will keep everyone occupied. No one will want it to spread. Who’ll set the fire?”

  “I’ll do it,” Burt said.

  “He’s always been a bit of a pyro,” his wife said.

  “The rest of you will provide cover fire if we end up in a gunfight. We’ll probably have to break down the door or go in through a window,” Liz said.

  “I’d try a window. Easier to break,” Harvey said.

  “I saw a big one on the side of the house. We’ll use that one,” Melinda said.

  “Good. We only have one shot at saving our kids. If we screw this up…”

  “We won’t,” Harvey said. “As long as everyone does their part, we’ll have your kids back tonight.”

  After agreeing to meet at the same location an hour before midnight, everyone but Liz and Melinda went home to try to get a few hours of sleep.

  “I won’t be able to sleep,” Liz said.

  “Me neither.”

  “We should at least go back to my house so I can get you a gun.”

  “I don’t know how to shoot one,” Melinda said.

  “I’ll show you. We can dry fire to pass the time.”

  “Dry fire?”

  “No bullets. It’s not the best way to train, but since we’re pressed for time…”

  “I really don’t want to shoot anyone,” Melinda said. “I’m not a violent person.”

  “How did you end up in the preacher’s group?” Liz stepped over a fallen log as they headed back toward her cabin.

  “I’ve been a part of that church for twenty years. The old pastor, God rest his soul, was the kindest, most gentle man I’ve ever known. I wept when he passed away. Elijah rose through the ranks and took over as the new pastor. I never did like him very much, but everyone embraced him, so I thought it was God’s will. I can’t understand how God could let such an evil man take over. How does that happen?”

  “God doesn’t have time to manage the day-to-day operations of every church on earth.” Liz smiled. “But don’t worry. When his time comes, he’ll have some answering to do.”

  “I hope so. He’s shaken my faith. I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

  “Once you’re free of that place, you’ll feel much better.”

  “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but in a strange way, I’m glad he took your kids too.” Tears sprang into Melinda’s eyes. “Without you and your friends, I’d never be able to rescue my son.”

  “You’re stronger than you think,” Liz said. “You’re a survivor.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Where will you go after you get your son back?”

  “Home, I guess. I don’t know what’s waiting there, but I don’t have any place else.”

  “There are still good people left in the world. Maybe you’ll find another community. God knows you can throw a rock in Orange County and hit a church.”

  “Isn’t that the truth?” Melinda laughed.

  As the hours ticked by, Liz listened to her recount stories about her family. The more she got to know Melinda, the more she liked her. She was a good woman trapped in a bad situation. Hopefully she’d find a way to make it in this world.

  From now on only the strong would survive. The weak would be exploited and killed by people who grew more and more desperate as resources ran out. Was Luke okay? Was he still battling his way through the valley? Or had his luck run out?

  She shook her head to clear it. Worrying about Luke wouldn’t do a damn thing to help the kids. Luke wasn’t here, but she was, and she would do whatever it took to get her kids back, even if it meant facing a hail of bullets and bloodshed.

  21

  Luke frowned as he leaned across the kitchen table to study the floorplan of the Nicklinson’s house. The layout was similar to Boyd’s place, but there were more blind corners and closets for people to hide in. He held a penlight over the top part of the map. With his finger, he drew a line in from one of the rear windows.

  “We have to assume the doors are locked. If we try to breach through one of them, we might run right into a guard.”

  “You think they’ll be posted at the doors?” Boyd asked. He stood shoulder to shoulder with Luke.

  “Maybe. We don’t know how many people are inside.”<
br />
  “It’s just the two of them, Bart and Porky. The wife left five years ago, haven’t seen her since. We used to joke that he’d killed her and buried her in the backyard. Now I wonder if he did.”

  “You never really know your neighbors, do you?”

  “Not really. But then again, do you really know anyone? People only show you one side of themselves. I don’t know about you, but I try to keep my crazy in check. If anyone really knew what was going on in my head, they’d lock me up faster than the nuclear codes.”

  “Apparently they weren’t locked up well enough.”

  “Not when you have crazy politicians in charge of them.”

  “I wonder if we hit back,” Luke said.

  “Hit who, the Chinese?”

  “Whoever bombed us.”

  “I hope we find out one day. The lack of information is killing me,” Boyd said.

  “I hear you.”

  “So you’re thinking the back window? Keep in mind, I only walked through that house once, years ago when the previous owners had an open house.”

  “Why’d you go to an open house in your own neighborhood?”

  “Curiosity. Don’t you ever wonder what the inside of other people’s houses look like?”

  “Not really,” Luke said. “Although, my wife loves going to the new home models. They’ve been building so many in Orange County that we turned it into a fun free thing to do on the weekends.”

  “Do you go every weekend?”

  “Not every weekend. That would drive me nuts. But we go often enough. I don’t mind indulging her fantasies. If she starts to really get excited about buying one of those huge houses, I remind her that someone’s going to have to clean it, and it’s not going to be me.”

  “Is that enough of a deterrent?”

  “Sometimes. Usually she starts in on how we should hire a housekeeper. But who has enough money for that?”

  “Rich people.”

  “Well, we’re not rich. Not hurting for money, but not rich.”

  “After we get inside, which way should we head first?” Boyd asked.

  “The back of the house. Clear that, then we work our way forward.”

  “I can’t wait to put a bullet in that asshole’s face.”

  “The temptation will be there, but until we know what we’re dealing with, you have to try to stay calm.”

  Boyd grabbed a bottle of whiskey off of the table and took another swig.

  “You should lay off that,” Luke said. “You need to be alert. Ready for anything.”

  “I couldn’t be more alert if you smashed a pair of cymbals against my ears.”

  “If you die, all of this will be for nothing.”

  “We’re not dying today,” Boyd said. “They are.”

  “Maybe.”

  “I know they did it. I’m going to make them pay.”

  Trying to argue with Boyd was pointless. Luke checked the magazine before jamming it back into his SIG. They only had one gun. Boyd had torn apart the house searching for his revolver, but had come up empty. It had been stolen too.

  “Keep your flashlight off. There’s a half moon up tonight. We’ll use that light to navigate. I also have my night vision monocular in case we need it. I don’t want to use it unless it’s pitch black. Metal might reflect the moonlight and give away our approach.”

  He pulled the Bestguarder 6x50mm HD Digital Night Vision Monocular from his pack and shoved it into his front pocket.

  “I’m ready.” Boyd grabbed the tire iron he’d retrieved from the garage.

  “Stay smart. Stay safe.”

  “Whatever it takes to get justice.”

  Luke switched off the penlight and tucked it into his waistband. Worst case scenario, he wanted access to light fast. Although he wanted to trust Boyd, he couldn’t. The calm exterior he’d displayed over the last hour crumbled every time he talked about revenge. As long as he didn’t go off half-cocked, they’d have a shot at finding out the truth about Boyd’s family.

  Outside, chilly air whipped through his hair. A bead of sweat snaked down his spine. He’d been awake almost twenty-four hours without a break. Boyd had been awake over thirty-six hours.

  Luke squatted low as he ran across the street. When he reached the fence to the target’s backyard, he grabbed it and vaulted over. He unlocked the gate from the other side and let Boyd in. He closed the gate behind Boyd, but didn’t lock it in case they needed to make a fast escape. They’d run through every contingency, but there were always unexpected variables.

  As they approached the bedroom window at the rear of the house, Luke strained to listen for any hint of occupation. They’d spotted a faint light in the living room, but that didn’t mean jack. Their targets could be anywhere in the house.

  Luke stood to the side of the window. He peeked in through a hole in the curtain. An unmade bed sat on one side of the room. Across the room, a dresser vomited clothes from its drawers. Probably Porky’s room.

  He reached up and popped the screen out of the seal. After setting it on the ground, he slowly pushed back the window. The light scrape of metal on metal set the hair on the back of his neck on end. Other than the occasional chirp of a cricket, the night was silent, as if holding its breath in anticipation of explosive violence.

  Boyd laced his fingers together and gave Luke a boost into the room. Luke helped pull Boyd in after him. The door to the bedroom stood open to the hall. They closed the distance and lined up beside it.

  Luke pointed to the right. Boyd nodded. Carpet in the empty hallway disguised their steps. As they approached the master bedroom, Luke’s heart kicked hard against his ribcage.

  “Hey Dad,” someone yelled. “Did you hear anything?”

  Footsteps sounded from the down the hall. A second pair came from the opposite direction. Trapped between father and son, Luke charged toward the son. He blitzed the chubby bastard, throwing an elbow at his jaw before punching him in the stomach with a sharp jab. Porky gasped and stumbled back against a wall. Luke circled behind and grabbed him by the throat. He put a gun to his head.

  “Don’t fucking move.”

  “Who the fuck—”

  Bart stepped into the hall. When he pointed his flashlight at Boyd, his jaw dropped.

  “Son of a bitch. You’re home.”

  “You’re goddammed right. I found my family. They’re all dead, and you killed them.”

  “Let go of my son and get the fuck out of my house.”

  “You murdered my family!”

  “And had a great time doing it.” Bart sneered.

  Luke yanked on Porky’s throat in an attempt to distract his father. He changed the position of the gun, pointing it at Bart instead.

  “Up against the wall, hands behind your back,” Luke snapped.

  “Fuck you!”

  Bart turned and dashed back into the bedroom. Boyd raced after him before Luke could tell him to stop. He could be running right into a trap.

  Luke smashed the butt of his gun against the side of Porky’s head. The hulking giant crumbled to the floor.

  After leaping over him, Luke raced toward the bedroom.

  A shotgun blast punctured the air. Boyd screamed. Something thudded against the wall. Luke ran toward the door, hoping he wasn’t too late.

  A muzzle flash blinded Luke a split second before Bart rushed him. A slug whizzed past his ear. Luke slammed into Bart, dropping his SIG in the process. He grabbed the shotgun and twisted it up toward the ceiling just as another shot blasted free.

  As he tried to wrestle it away, Boyd groaned in the corner. Luke couldn’t take his eyes off Bart to check on his friend. He pulled as hard as he could, then shoved forward, smacking Bart across the nose. The man howled as blood rushed out of his nose. His grip weakened enough for Luke to tear the gun from his hands.

  Behind him, Boyd dragged himself up from the floor via the wall. He staggered toward Luke.

  “Hand me the gun.”

  “I got this,” Luke s
napped as he pointed the business end at Bart.

  He pulled the shotgun and pulled the trigger. It clicked, but nothing happened. He checked the chamber. Empty.

  Bart laughed and staggered to his feet. He wiped the back of his hand across his gushing nose. Blood stained his sleeve.

  “You know what your wife did when I was fucking her?” Bart took a shaky step forward. “She cried and begged you to save her.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Luke watched Boyd grab the SIG. Everything happened in slow motion. Boyd raised the pistol and advanced with the determination of a militant army. A flash of movement near the door caught Luke’s attention. He spun and ran toward Porky’s hulking form.

  As Porky raised a second shotgun toward Boyd, Luke grabbed the muzzle and shoved it up. The shot reverberated down his arm. He yanked the gun out of Porky’s grasp and flipped it around. He pumped it and pulled the trigger, sending a round right through his heart. He dropped.

  He spun toward Bart. The muzzle on the pistol in Boyd’s hand flashed. As Bart jerked back, blood splattered on the wall behind him. He slammed into the wall and slid to the ground. The sinister glint in his eyes faded until all that remained was a glassy stare.

  Boyd put a second bullet between Bart’s eyes. The sound of his panting and the reek of cordite filled the room. As the smoke dissipated, Boyd turned to gaze at Luke with a stunned expression.

  “He didn’t suffer.”

  “But he’s dead. Now he’ll never be able to do that to another family.”

  “I wanted him to suffer the way they did.”

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  When Boyd didn’t move, Luke grabbed his upper arm and pulled him toward the door.

  “Wait,” Boyd said.

  He pulled away from Luke and walked back to where Bart lay against the wall. Boyd spit on his face and kicked his corpse. He kicked the dead man again and again as a primal scream roared from the depths of his soul.

  Luke stood back as Boyd dropped to his knees, punching and kicking until he collapsed onto all fours. As he looked up, blood spatter dripped down his face. His inhuman, feral countenance made Luke step back a couple of paces.

  “It’s done,” Boyd said. “Let’s go home.”