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

by Connor Mccoy

  “Wait.” Nigel raised his hand. “How about some crops and we’ll call it even?”

  “Not good enough,” Hunter said. “A few potatoes won’t equal the price of a worker.”

  Nigel swallowed. “Alright. Then how about gasoline? We have some. Not a lot, about three cans. You know that gas isn’t exactly common anymore, and you need it to run those two trucks. You’ve probably used up a lot in your search.”

  Kurt’s smile lifted his lip to show off his mangled teeth. “You are a shrewd negotiator. Very well. Your gasoline…” Then he wiggled his finger. Six men parted from the group. “Your gas, as well as your motor oils, truck grease, and free meals on the house until we depart tomorrow.”

  “So be it,” Nigel said.

  NIGEL THRUST THE DOOR OPEN, scaring the wits out of Lance. Nigel then pointed to the young man. “You, go with Reg. We’re putting a lot at risk to protect your ass, so you’re going to work it off helping us. These bastards want food and supplies. You can help us behind the scenes.”

  Lance stumbled up. “Right, right.”

  Nigel shook his head. “We probably can delay them for a day, but with those trucks they can drive straight over to Conrad’s. I probably have just enough time to get over there and warn him.”

  “Wait!” Lance held up a hand. “Are you going to tell him about me?”

  “Easy. He doesn’t need to know about you, not yet anyway. I’m just telling him about Kurt. Like I said, I’m protecting you. That includes Kurt and Conrad.”

  Lance nodded. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it. Show me gratitude by staying here and helping us.” Nigel turned to the door. “Maybe someday you’ll become the kind of man who won’t shoot at another for his supper.”

  THE TABLE before Doctor Darber was lined with his tools. Behind him, Conrad sat on his bed with his shirt stripped off. The door to Conrad’s bedroom was shut.

  “Alright,” Darber said, turning around, “Describe the pain for me.”

  Conrad pointed to his right arm. “It started up the arm. It’s not a sharp pain. It’s just an ache. I feel it after I do some work. It seems to be getting a little worse all the time.”

  “Hold up your arm,” Darber said.

  Conrad obeyed. Darber then felt along his muscles, all the way up to Conrad’s shoulder. “You haven’t hit or struck this arm recently, have you?”

  “No,” Conrad said.

  “Years ago? Perhaps an old injury you can recall?” Darber asked.

  “Nothing so major. I didn’t even break this arm,” Conrad replied.

  Darber studied Conrad’s arm further. “If it’s not an old injury that’s bothering you, you might be suffering from an onset of arthritis. It’s natural to start feeling pains at your age. It also could be a sign of vitamin deficiency.”

  Conrad raised an eyebrow. “Good Lord, Doctor. I pretty much memorized all the vitamin intakes out there. I even bought up a bunch of vitamin supplements before the solar event hit us.”

  “Why does that not surprise me?” Darber chuckled. “I imagine with your farm, you have some of the healthiest food out here.”

  “Organically-raised goats, chickens and sheep, Doc. I don’t inject any of my animals with chemicals or anything,” Conrad said.

  The doctor turned around. “Well, there’s only one way to be sure.” He removed a cloth, uncovering a syringe. “Now, it’s not quite the full blood test I could give you if I had a working hospital at my disposal, but with my microscopes handy I can look for some obvious ailments.”

  As Darber pulled on a pair of plastic gloves, Conrad asked, “You don’t suspect anything, do you?”

  Darber flexed his fingers. “Just the usuals. Better to rule out anything obvious. Oh, and one more thing.” The doctor reached for a small plastic cup with a green cap. “I trust you’ve drank something this morning?”

  Conrad looked at the cup, then to Darber. “You’re not going to ask for my stool next, are you?”

  “If you volunteer, I won’t object,” Darber replied, with a deadpan expression.

  THE NEXT DAY, Conrad pushed aside the curtain to reveal the view of his ranch. The sun had begun rising. In another hour, it would fully ascend from the horizon, and the day’s work would begin.

  He scratched his chin. Sleep never came easy for him except after periods of great exhaustion. He was one of the last people to go to sleep and the first to awaken. Even now, with multiple people under his roof, Conrad never could sleep in longer than usual.

  A slight sunbeam hit the apple tree under which Conrad’s father lay buried. It reminded Conrad that he never fully buried the past. This ranch was the most stable home Conrad ever had known, yet even still, he couldn’t fully trust it. Stability was a foreign concept to him. His childhood home under the rule of James Bradford Drake never had been stable. It was a household of competition and strife. Conrad learned while very young to grab for whatever stability he could reach out for. That lesson was burned into him and lasted for decade after decade.

  Too late to teach an old dog new tricks, Conrad thought. He might never know peace. At least, not until his health started to falter. By then, he’d have no choice but to step down from his rigorous life. Liam would have to take over the ranch and be its chief protector and the enforcer of its rules.

  He stared at the tree again. Old age and health ailments had robbed his father of his fury. Nature was the great equalizer. It brought everything to an end sooner or later.

  As he took a short walk down the hall toward the kitchen, he heard a soft crunching sound. Curious, he stepped to the nearest window, one over his kitchen sink and looked outside to his animal pens. Some of his goats and sheep milled about, with one or two taking a soft step that produced no noise. Other animals laid on the grass, not aroused from sleep yet. Conrad figured it could be a deer approaching his property line, but no deer were in sight.

  Yet the sounds not only continued, they grew a little louder. With his curiosity turning into irritation, Conrad hurried to the window by the front door and peered through a gap in the curtains. Three tall shapes strode along the road, approaching the driveway that led to Conrad’s front porch. The dim light, plus the fence and tall weeds by the road, made it impossible to discern who they were, or even how many people were approaching.

  No wonder Conrad never trusted the seeming stability around him. Anything—or anyone—could come along and take it in an instant.

  Calmly, without alarm, Conrad headed back into the hallway.

  NIGEL’S BOOT crunched on the gravel road. The man was so tired he didn’t raise his eyes to the home. So, when he saw another pair of boots on the ground several feet away, he jumped in surprise. The two friends he had brought along—Jeff and Whitney—acted no differently.

  “Morning, Conrad,” Nigel said, out of breath.

  Conrad stood in front of them, a handgun in a holster on his belt with an additional shotgun in his hands. “Morning, Nigel.”

  “I hope you’re on a morning hunt,” Jeff said.

  “Well, it’s a different era. Can’t be sneaking up on a man’s property during daybreak. Could get your asses blown away, especially by a doddering old blind man like me.”

  “Doddering old blind man, huh?” Nigel asked, “Well, if you’re so blind then we should be the safest men to stare down a gun barrel, since you probably couldn’t hit the side of your own barn.”

  Conrad chuckled. “You got me there.” He lowered his weapon. “So, what brings you all out here so early? Oh, right, I guess you snuck over here in the dark of night to get the jars. Didn’t want thieves to see you.”

  Whitney coughed. He then shook his head, shaking his long, white hair. “Well, we wish it was only that bad.”

  Conrad raised an eyebrow. “That so?”

  Jeff sighed. “We got big trouble in Hooper City.”

  “Two trucks arrived in town yesterday. I mean actual, honest-to-God driving trucks,” Nigel said. “They were packed with about
twenty men.”

  “Did they make trouble?” Conrad asked.

  “Almost. They were asking questions about Doctor Darber. Someone came into town a few days ago driving a pickup truck. Turned out he was working for Kurt Marsh and fled from his men. We gave him sanctuary, didn’t rat him out. But Kurt’s men picked up the trail and found the truck.” Nigel shook his head. “They found a map inside with your ranch circled with a pen. They know where you are.”

  Conrad nodded. “So, they got a bead on me.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t search the truck before they showed up,” Nigel said. “I didn’t have any inkling there would be this kind of trouble.”

  “Sounds like your friend didn’t either,” Conrad said, with a low growl pouring from his throat.

  “Yeah, well, I guess it was his mistake. But he was pretty badly shook up from the experience. He was very thin when he came to us, was badly nourished. I think he was abused pretty bad. Probably wasn’t in any shape to tell us about the map,” Nigel said.

  “I can understand that,” Conrad said. “So, why isn’t he here now? If he’s got trucks, he can show up here pretty quickly,” Conrad said.

  Nigel shook his head. “Conrad, we’re talking about twenty men with a lot of firepower. You may want to think about…” The middle-aged man shrank back a little. He knew this wouldn’t be easy to say. “Well, you probably should think about running and hiding.”

  Conrad’s eyes widened, not all the way, but enough to show what he was thinking. Nigel’s suggestion had lit a fire in him. “Twenty men, you say? I’ll consider myself flattered that they’re throwing that many men at me.”

  “But you can’t seriously be thinking of staying there?” Jeff quickly asked. “You’re a sitting duck. Think about what happened with just seven men under Derrick. This is bigger shit.”

  “I wasn’t at my ranch when Derrick came gunning for me. This is different. Now I know they’re coming,” Conrad replied.

  “But you’ll be outgunned by God knows how much!” Whitney added.

  Conrad folded his arms. “And what do you think I have, dear friends?”

  Nigel shook his head. “Look, I know you’ve spent years getting ready for the worst, but…” His voice trailed off.

  “But what? What do you think the worst is? When authority breaks down, anything, and I mean anything, could happen. I’m not talking about just a shootout with a few desperate men. I’m talking about guerilla warfare. Using the lay of the land to your advantage. Making the enemy come to you, and then springing a few surprises on them.”

  Nigel didn’t respond. Conrad continued. “I never trusted the world, Nigel. From when I was a boy, I learned to depend on myself. I had to be quicker and smarter than my brothers, and sometimes my own daddy. I’ve carried that belief all the way to the present, and I’ll carry it to my grave. I know you’re concerned, but believe me when I tell you I can handle whatever sons of bitches come for me.”

  Nigel bowed his head. “Alright. I don’t know what I can do for you, but I’ll do my best.”

  Conrad waved his hand. “No. Don’t put yourself out for me. This fire’s coming for me. Don’t get involved.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CONRAD PUSHED OPEN the basement door, exposing the downstairs room to the soft candlelight in his hand. He didn’t like coming down here. Of course, it wasn’t because of any problems he had setting up this armory. To the contrary, he was quite proud of the storage racks and chests he had placed here. He also was pleased with the sanctuary room he had set up at the far end of the basement. With its hard metal door and biometric locking system, it would be impossible for any intruders to break through unless they had a tank or a bomb. Even in these insane times, Conrad doubted anyone coming for him would lob a bomb onto his house.

  He glanced at the chest before him. No, the reason he disliked this room was because of what it did to him. It was a place that housed tools for killing. These weapons motivated Conrad to think dark thoughts. He never wanted to go there. But men with a mind for violence would be beating a path to his door. It would take another man of violence to stop them.

  I’ve never had to live with killing so many, he thought. Before, during the rescue mission in Redmond, he had shot and killed men who held his ex-wife captive. Yet he lost little sleep over it. Perhaps the events occurred so suddenly that Conrad couldn’t imprint them into his memory.

  It would be different this time. He had time to think, to plan, to prepare, and finally, to act. Those steps would be impossible to forget.

  I’ll be whatever I have to be to save my family. I’ll be a father. I’ll be a hard driving boss. If I must, I’ll be cunning, ruthless, and without mercy.

  “Mister Conrad?”

  Conrad turned his head. Carla was standing at the top of the stairs. He probably should have closed the door, but he was so wrapped up in his own thoughts he didn’t even consider his privacy.

  “Someone’s up nice and early,” Conrad said. “I thought I told Liam to let you sleep in.”

  Carla laughed. “I think Liam crashed into bed before he could tell me that. So, I escaped, and then I noticed your basement door was open.”

  Conrad turned around as Carla descended the steps. “Actually, it’s good you’re here. Remember I showed you the sanctuary room?” By now Carla had joined him. “I think it’s time I gave you a look at the supply bins, to make sure you know how to access them.”

  Conrad stepped over to the vault door. There was a keypad right next to the door handle. “Okay, here’s hoping I remember the pin code.” Then he rapidly punched in a seven-digit sequence of numbers. “Well, what do you know? Mind still works well after all these years.”

  Then he turned to a small glass pane and pressed his thumb into it. “And a little thumbprint to confirm that, yes, Conrad Drake wants in.” Finally, he took hold of the handle and turned it, opening up the vault door. The rancher turned and gestured to the opening. “Ladies first.”

  Carla obliged, stepping past Conrad, who followed shortly on her heels.

  Conrad pointed to the containers around them. “You could last for years if you had to, though it might make you a bit stir crazy. I don’t think you’ll need to worry about staying in here that long. Absent a nuclear war, I think you could outlast just about anything inside this beauty.”

  Carla brushed the side of her hip as she watched Conrad. “You’re thinking of putting me in here soon, aren’t you?”

  Conrad turned. “What makes you say that?”

  “You’re down here, loading up on guns and whatever other cool blow ‘em up stuff you stored away, and now you’re showing me the bins and things you showed me the first time around.” Carla raised an eyebrow. “You don’t remember that, do you?”

  Conrad sucked in a deep breath. “You got a mind like a steel trap.”

  Carla rubbed her fingers together. “What’s going on?”

  “Trouble’s coming,” Conrad replied.

  “Yeah, I know. But is it coming tomorrow, next week?” Carla crossed her arms against her chest. “Did someone tip you off?”

  Conrad flexed the fingers of his right hand. “Nigel. He came early and gave me the lowdown. Kurt knows Ron’s here. Nigel’s bought us time, but not a lot. I got to make plans, and one of them includes sticking you in here until the storm’s over.”

  “I’m glad you decided to ask me nicely.” Carla unfolded her arms.

  Conrad stepped out of the vault. “It’s not about asking. You’re carrying…”

  “…the future of the world. I know, I know. I got to stay alive and protect my baby. But who’s going to protect the man I love?” Carla followed him, stomping the floor loudly as she caught up to Conrad. “In case you don’t remember, I got through the last time without a scratch, while he ended up with a nice hole blown in his side. I saved his life.”

  “This time it’s different. The odds are worse, and they’re packing even bigger heat. First time it was just a couple of devils
showing up at our porch. This time it’s Hell itself, led by Beelzebub.”

  “Well, since you put it that way, why don’t we all go hide in there!” Carla asked with obvious sarcasm.

  Conrad turned and smiled. “Don’t worry. Like I said, it’s different this time.”

  “Why?” Carla asked.

  The old man turned to his chest. “Because I know they’re coming.”

  CONRAD GLANCED at the map on his workbench as he put the finishing touches on his little “surprise.” The small metal casing lay open, and Conrad just had finished placing the small metal trigger inside. This little baby is small, but it will pack a nasty punch, he thought.

  He was so deep in thought that when Sarah and Camilla surrounded him on either side, he jolted.

  “Good Lord, ladies, why don’t you just blow an airhorn in my ear? It’ll get my attention faster,” Conrad asked with a grumble as he pushed aside his tools.

  Sarah glanced behind Conrad’s back. “I told you he wouldn’t hear an elephant tap dancing behind him if he was wrapped up in his work.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Camilla said.

  Conrad shut the metal casing tight. “Is there something I can help you two with?” he asked gruffly.

  “Maybe there’s something we can help you with,” Camilla said. “You didn’t show up outside at all this morning. When Conrad’s gone to ground, he’s up to something big.”

  Sarah folded her arms. “So, we thought we’d check up on you.”

  “Wonderful. Now I have two women to nag me,” Conrad said.

  “Conrad, this isn’t funny. Carla came by and told us Nigel saw you this morning,” Camilla said.

  “And you wanted to put her down in the sanctuary room until this was over,” Sarah added.

  “I was going to inform everyone after lunch, but I had to get this in the hopper before then.” Conrad held out his hand. “I have to work fast. Don’t worry, it’s nothing you two need to worry about. By the time all this is sorted out, Kurt and his men won’t be much of a problem.”