Enduring Grit: an EMP survival story (The Off Grid Survivor Book 3)

by Connor Mccoy

  Conrad nodded. “Okay. All due speed it is. If you need any help –”

  “I’m fine.” Darber looked to his office. “Don’t worry. I’ll be ready to go in just a few minutes.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  SARAH YAWNED. Another day of canning awaited her. It helps finally to have a job of some kind, she thought. Before too much longer, this life might actually feel normal to her.

  She pulled the pajamas from her skin. Given how tight they were, she only could muster about an inch. Carla had been generous in loaning her these, although the fact that Carla’s stomach was beginning to expand helped. Soon Carla wouldn’t fit well in many of her regular clothes.

  Sarah’s skin tingled at the thought. A grandbaby! It was amazing to behold.

  Glimpsing herself in a hall mirror, she took note of her dark hair, now graying, and thought to herself, You’re definitely older now. Time to admit it. She had kept herself in good shape these past few decades, but she had to admit her energy had flagged a little. She had to stretch a little more in bed before she felt ready to take on the day. Sarah even recalled Conrad checking out his beard in a mirror recently.

  I know he’s thinking the same thing, she added.

  She rounded the hallway corner, stepping into the dining room. She looked to the door leading to the living room and then to the side door leading outside, expecting Conrad to walk by and mutter his customary hello. Instead, both the kitchen and dining room were quiet. A folded note on the dining room table marked with a cursive “Sarah” greeted her.

  She picked it up and unfolded it. No doubt about it, this was Conrad’s handwriting—and rather bad writing, too. Picking her way through the words was a chore, but after a couple of read-throughs she got the gist of it. Conrad had left the house early to travel to a small suburb named Davies, where he would find and pick up a Doctor Ronald Darber. He should be back in about two days.

  “‘Remember, there’s always work to be done,’” Sarah read. She stopped to roll her eyes. “You’ve drilled that into our heads several times over, but hey, once more on paper couldn’t hurt,” she remarked before reading again, “‘And always keep a gun on you, especially when you’re outside, just in case.’”

  Lowering the paper from her eyes, Sarah sighed and sank back against the wall. “No rest for the weary, right Conrad?”

  A set of footsteps drew her attention. Tom was standing in the hall, all dressed up, with fresh sweat rolling down his face. “Talking to Conrad?”

  Sarah pushed the paper into his chest. “He left. Only for a couple of days. It’s all in here.” Tom took it. “You need me to translate any of it?” Sarah asked.

  Tom blinked his eyes as he studied the paper. “I hope he never had to write post-it notes for you while you were married.”

  Sarah helped Tom along, eventually reading just about all of the letter. Soon Tom had gotten the full story. “I guess he couldn’t trouble us with a goodbye,” he said. He clutched the paper hard.

  “I guess some things never change,” Sarah said. “Conrad was always a little paranoid.”

  “I think the prepped house and ranch pretty much confirms that,” Tom said.

  “It’s not just that.” Sarah stretched her arms. “It was little things. He couldn’t relax. It was always hard to get what he was thinking out of him. He didn’t share thoughts easily.”

  Tom nodded. “Always played it too close to the vest.”

  Sarah nodded. “Yeah.”

  Tom folded up the letter. “I better make sure Camilla and the kids know.”

  Sarah raised an eyebrow. “The kids?”

  Tom chuckled. “Liam and Carla.”

  “Dear Lord,” Sarah said, “I guess we’re both getting older.” She ran her left hand through Tom’s hair above his left ear. “I’m starting to see some silver in there.”

  Tom licked the insides of his mouth. “It’s the sun. It’s definitely the sun.” He tilted his head toward the sunlight pouring through the nearby window.

  Sarah laughed. “Hey, whatever makes you rest easy, but sooner or later the mirror won’t lie.” Then she stretched again. “I’d better get started with more canning.”

  DARBER SIPPED THE SOUP. “This is good.” He looked up. “Rice and meat. Never had that combination before.”

  Conrad looked down at his own cup. “It’s called gumbo. It’s popular in Louisiana. Usually you pop in rice and sausage, but I like to chop up the meat a little more. I don’t like making the sausages too big.”

  Conrad had pitched a tent in the shadow of an old oak tree off the side of the road. In this darkness it would be impossible to spot them. Someone would have to get off the road and hike here, then turn to the side with a good light to illuminate their campsite.

  Conrad watched Darber as he ate. Every now and then the doctor would crane his head back in the direction of the road.

  “So how’s Tara?” Conrad asked.

  “Tara?” Darber asked.

  Conrad smiled. “Now don’t tell me you forget about her already.”

  Darber shook his head. “Sorry. I suppose my head’s in another place. I haven’t seen her in weeks. But we’ve been doing well. Our last visit went fine, but she had to return to her family in Staples. She has an ill sister and an aging mother. Pulling the plug on the world has had sad consequences for so many. And what about you and Camilla?”

  “Back at the ranch. She’s probably there to stay,” Conrad replied.

  A slight smile formed on Darber’s face. “Considering another try at the altar?”

  “Now that’s a terrible thing to suggest, Doctor. When a man is let out of jail, you don’t just walk back in.”

  Darber laughed so hard he started coughing. “Good lord, Conrad. I hope you’re not that soured on the idea of getting hitched.”

  Conrad smiled at his own joke. “Well, the truth is there’s still some hard feelings that haven’t died yet. It’s only in the last few months that I can think of it without getting a pain in my stomach.” He scratched his right fist. “I still don’t know if I can ever be the man who stays in the valley.”

  “Stays in the valley?” Darber asked.

  Conrad shrugged. “Forget about it. Silly talk. Anyway, I have something I’ve been dying to ask you. When I came into Davies, I could have sworn I saw a pickup truck going through town. Someone actually was driving it. I smelled the exhaust, saw the tire treads, just about everything. Now, I know the EMP from the sun didn’t fry every vehicle on the planet, but it’s still pretty surprising to see a truck running. Do you know anything about it?”

  Darber scratched his left ear while looking away. “Someone does have a working truck in town. The town currently has some new bosses. They gathered up a couple of trucks, but they don’t use them very much. You know that the gas stations don’t work, and it’s not like we’ll be getting new shipments soon.”

  “But they must have siphoned from just about every vehicle in Davies,” Conrad said, “I saw a lot of cars with their fuel tanks open.”

  Darber nodded. “It’s not as if anyone else needs it.”

  “Perhaps someone has a working generator,” Conrad said.

  “If they do, I don’t know about it,” Darber said a little gruffly.

  Conrad bristled. They had left town too quickly for his tastes, and now he couldn’t investigate the mystery truck he had spotted. Darber’s answers didn’t help. They were too vague and dodgy. This man wanted out of Davies, but he never had said why. And who were these new bosses Darber spoke of?

  “Just as long as things are going well back home,” Conrad said, and he watched Darber closely to see how he reacted.

  The doctor nodded. “Of course,” he said.

  After a short while, Darber decided to turn in. For his part, Conrad stayed up and kept watch over the stars.

  Perhaps I’m fussing over nothing, Conrad thought. It was hard to imagine just about any community could be a place worth living in. The loss of power and the destructi
on of so much electronic equipment had turned so many hometowns into ugly places. Just about everybody probably wanted to be somewhere else. So, why not Ronald Darber? And even if something was going wrong in Davies, was it really Conrad’s problem? Besides, Darber was able to leave. It wasn’t as if someone tried stopping them at gunpoint.

  Unless leaving quickly threw someone off Darber’s trail, Conrad thought to himself.

  Conrad wrestled with his doubts a little longer before he fell asleep. Even so, he wondered again if he was the man who could stay in the valley.

  The man in the valley, he thought. The man who could have a home.

  LANCE, sound asleep, was dreaming of happier times, when he had a functioning air conditioner blowing in his face, could hang out with friends, chow down on a big cheeseburger with pickles and onions, listen to music on his phone, speed his car along the old dirt roads that ran behind small towns, and even see his parents again.

  He trembled a bit as his dreams turned to his folks. The last time he saw them was just before the solar storm struck. They were headed off to Florida on a vacation to Miami Beach. Their budget couldn’t afford Hawaii, so Florida was the next best thing. They hopped on a plane for a week-long vacation.

  The next day, the whole world shut down.

  Lance had no hope of flying from his Midwestern perch down to Florida, nor could his parents return here on an airplane, a train or even a rented automobile. They were trapped in a state with millions of people. Lance was told by a farmer that his parents were caught up in one of the worst outcomes, to be ensnared in a densely packed area with no power, and that he shouldn’t get his hopes up of seeing them again. The riots and upheaval would make escaping from southern Florida almost impossible.

  Lance admitted he wasn’t all that close to his parents, but he hardly hated them either. And right now, if he was with them again, it’d be enough.

  But whatever else Lance could imagine in his dreams was interrupted when a large, hairy hand seized him by his shirt and pulled him into a sitting position. “Get up!” roared a voice carried by hot breath.

  Lance’s eyes shot open. “What? What?” When he saw he was nearly nose to nose with Vander, he screamed.

  Vander responded by shaking Lance like a doll. “Shut it. You’re coming with me.”

  Lance was dragged through the attic where he slept, passing by two other men who likely already were awake from the commotion, but feigning sleep to avoid drawing attention. Vander didn’t allow Lance to walk under his power. The six-foot-tall, red-haired man hauled the young man to the open steps. “Now climb down!” Vance ordered, spit flying from his mouth.

  Lance scrambled down the steps to the second floor below. The building that Lance called home was a run-down old store called Tony’s Furniture. The place was two stories tall with and an attic that would be stifling if holes weren’t cut into the sides and the stairwell wasn’t always down. Unfortunately, the attic also leaked when it rained, but Lance’s benefactors had no interest in repairing it. By this point, Lance counted himself lucky that he had a home at all, and wasn’t sleeping in a ditch.

  Vander joined Lance, then grabbed him again, this time by the back of his shirt, and hauled him down the hall to a small room. Another man, Blake, awaited him inside. The dawning sky clearly was visible in the window behind him.

  Vander shoved Lance through the door, enough that Lance fell flat on his stomach onto the hard floor. “The doc’s gone,” Vander said.

  Lance coughed as he sat up. “Doc?”

  “Darber, you moron.” Blake took a step closer, his dirty boot thumping the floor so hard and suddenly that it rattled Lance’s ears.

  Blake was shorter than Vander, but then again just about everyone around here was dwarfed by the brute. However, Blake was no less ruthless when he wanted to be. Blake was just smoother about it, the guy that would jab a knife in your back rather than smash your face in with a fist.

  “He’s gone,” Blake said, “Split. He packed up, so he knew he was going. You were the last guy to see him.”

  Vander hovered right over Lance. “So, what was the deal with the doc?” Vander asked. “Did he tell you where he was going?”

  “What? No-no, he didn’t say he was going anywhere!” Lance said, sweat dripping down his face.

  “He didn’t tell you a goddamn thing?” Blake didn’t sound at all like he believed Lance.

  “He was just doing his same old stuff, nothing different!” Lance blurted out. “I gave him his rations like I’m supposed to, and then I left! That’s all!”

  Vander walked, very slowly, around Lance. “You’re going to have to give us more than that. He’s Kurt’s doctor. Kurt isn’t happy that his doctor isn’t around. So you better cough up something—fast.”

  Lance hyperventilated. Okay, think! Think! What can I tell these guys? Wait, Conrad! Yeah, maybe it’s all his fault!

  “Um, wait! Conrad! Yeah, I saw him in town just as I left!” Lance said quickly.

  “Conrad?” Blake sneered. “Who the hell is Conrad?”

  Lance spread his arms. “Okay, he’s this old rancher who lives somewhere north of here. It’d be a day away on a bike. Anyway, I used to work for Derrick Wellinger. Derrick pulled us together and we were going to kick Conrad off his land.” He trembled. “He’s a scary son of a bitch. He tried to blow me away with a hand grenade!”

  “A hand grenade?” Blake raised an eyebrow. “Who is this guy, an ex-military?”

  “I don’t know who he is!” Lance cried out, “But he was here in town, and I’m sure he was going to see Darber.” That last part was a lie, but Lance had to feed these guys something in the hope they’d let him go.

  “Conrad.” Blake’s eyes met Vander’s. “Doesn’t sound like anybody that’s from around here.”

  Vander turned back to Lance. “So, where does Conrad live?”

  “I’ll tell you!” Lance said. By aiming these animals at Conrad Drake, these two would have something else to chew on and leave him alone.

  Blake raised a hand. “Better yet, he’s taking us there.”

  Lance fell back on his posterior. “What?”

  “You heard him.” Vander backed up toward the door. “You’re leading us to this Conrad’s house. Then we’ll see if you’re telling us the truth.”

  “But I don’t want to go back there!” Lance yelped, “He’s a monster! He’s nuts! A psycho! He’ll blow us away in a minute!”

  Blake cracked his knuckles. “You worried about this Conrad guy icing you? Better to worry about what Kurt will do to you. If you don’t help us get his doctor back, you’ll be planted head first into the ground.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  DARBER’S BREATHS grew heavier as Conrad led them closer to the turnoff. Conrad slowed up so he could ride parallel with the doctor. “Ready for a rest yet?”

  “Yes…” Darber let out a long breath as he reduced his speed. “I figured all the weight I lost in the past few weeks would whip me into better shape.”

  “It’s the muscles, doctor. Being as thin as a nail means you’re as strong as one,” Conrad said.

  Darber’s bike nearly tipped over. “Whoa.” Conrad pulled in a little closer. “You better bring that to a stop. You look like you’re going to faint in a mud puddle.”

  “I’m sorry.” Darber halted his bike. Then he climbed off and held onto his ride for a few minutes. Conrad stopped as well, gazing at his friend as the doctor tried getting his bearings.

  “You sure were in a hurry to get going. You didn’t even accept my offer to rest a few miles back,” Conrad said.

  “I know.” Darber stared at the road behind them. “I just…I just wanted to get going for your grandchild’s sake.”

  “Well, you won’t be any good to my family if you’re too worn out to help.” Conrad scratched the back of his neck. Darber definitely was jittery about something.

  After a few more minutes’ rest, Conrad led Darber to the road that turned off from State Road 22. “Now
, this is the main road that goes into Hooper City. We might as well take a breather here, plus I got something for one of the merchants here.”

  As Conrad finished speaking, a lone figure on a red bicycle pedaled up to them from the turnoff, emerging from the row of houses just ahead.

  “And, speaking of which…” Conrad stopped. “Nigel! Good Lord, talk about good luck that you’re in the neighborhood!”

  Nigel stopped and put down his bike’s kickstand. “Our sentry spotted you two come in and passed the word along.”

  “Sentry?” Conrad walked over and shook Nigel’s hand. “Now that’s a change. Oh doctor, this is Nigel Crane, owner of the finest feed store in Hooper City.”

  “Doctor, huh?” Nigel turned to Darber. “Where’d Conrad dig you up?”

  “Davies,” Darber said, a little nervously.

  “Davies? Haven’t heard any news out of there lately,” Nigel replied. “Well, Conrad, you’re pretty lucky to find a doc at all. We had to send three sick people off to Salinger’s farm. That was about a six-hour journey, but it was the best we could do.”

  “Nothing will be easy for a long time.” Conrad said, shaking his head. “But, I do have something that will help. I come bearing…” He pulled out a jar of carrots. “…a gift.” He handed it to Nigel. “Now, that baby’s vacuum-sealed and will last for about two years if necessary. I wish I had more on me, but I had to make a trip to bring the doctor here to my home. About to have the pitter-patter of little feet in my home, if you get my drift.”

  “Yes, I remember you told me.” Nigel grinned as he turned the jar upside down and right side up again. “We’ve got so many people in town who don’t know how to preserve food this good.”

  “I’m telling you, it’s not hard. Did you gather all the glass jars like I asked you to?”

  Nigel nodded. “Sure…sure…”

  Conrad frowned. Nigel wasn’t looking at him, and the store owner’s words seemed slower than usual. “Now you look like you’re head’s in another place, Nigel. What’s going on?”