Surviving the EMP (Book 5): Powerless Winter

by Casey, Ryan

  He held his breath.

  Now or never.

  And then he smacked her rifle to the left with his rifle, and he made a break for it.

  He rushed across the snow. He didn’t know which direction he was heading in, just that he had to get away.

  He’d failed Candice. She was gone.

  But he couldn’t fail the rest of his people.

  He couldn’t—

  He felt a crack against the back of his neck.

  Fell to the snow.

  He turned around. Whatever hit him, it hit him hard. For a moment, he thought it might be a gunshot. But no—it wasn’t strong enough. Thank God.

  He spun over and saw the woman standing over him.

  She pointed the rifle at his face.

  She didn’t look happy. Not anymore.

  “That was a bad idea,” she said. “A really, really bad idea.”

  And then she moved the rifle towards his crotch and tightened her grip on the trigger.

  Jack squeezed his eyes shut and went to lunge away.

  Then he heard it.

  A squelching sound. Like an orange being squeezed.

  And then he felt something warm trickling against his face.

  Something metallic tasting.

  He opened his eyes.

  The woman was still standing over him.

  But there was something in her neck.

  Something…

  He saw it, then.

  Saw it, as her rifle dropped to the snow.

  There was a knife pierced right through the back of her neck. The pointy end sticking out of her throat.

  Blood pouring down her body, onto him, onto the snow.

  She tumbled to her knees, and Jack lunged out of the way, just in time.

  He looked at her. Stunned. Unable to believe how close he’d come to being shot.

  And then he saw who had saved him.

  It was Candice.

  She held out her hand towards him.

  “Come on,” she said. “The others are just up the road. It’s about time we got out of this place.”

  Jack grabbed her hand. Relief poured through his body. “Candice. I—I thought you were—”

  “I’m here, okay?” she said. “I’m here. Made my way out of my caravan the second I heard them coming. Hid in the bushes. But some of the others… they weren’t so lucky.”

  Jack nodded. The knowledge that the people of Heathwaite’s had fallen was a bitter pill to swallow.

  But Candice was here. The rest of his group were up ahead.

  Right now, that was all he could focus on.

  Out of nowhere, Jack heard the voices getting closer. Martin’s people closing in. Soon, they’d be upon them. There was no more time to waste.

  “Come on,” Candice said. “We don’t have a choice. Not anymore.”

  Jack looked at the woman bleeding out in the snow.

  He looked at the burned-out remains of Candice’s caravan.

  Then at the rest of the caravans, blinded by the snowy glare.

  He took a deep breath.

  Then he reached down and grabbed the woman’s rifle.

  “Come on then,” he said. “Let’s… let’s get away from this place.”

  He turned around, Candice by his side.

  And then he ran away from Heathwaite’s and didn’t look back.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jack walked through the woods and tried not to think about what happened last night.

  It was morning. The sun had barely risen. Snow still decorated the trees, still covered the ground. There was no wind at all. Probably the least breezy day he could remember. And in a way, that gave him hope, too. Perhaps yesterday’s spell of decent weather wasn’t just a false dawn after all. Maybe it was just a part of a gradual improving of the weather.

  But what did it matter anyway?

  Heathwaite’s was gone.

  He looked around at his group. Hazel holding Mrs Fuzzles, who seemed to be lapping up this whole being carried everywhere thing. She was afraid of the snow, Hazel insisted. Didn’t leave the caravan for a week when it first fell. As far as Jack saw it, Mrs Fuzzles was just soft as shit and lapped up whatever attention she could. Scheming little bugger. Cats were all the same. Couldn’t be trusted.

  He looked at Bella as she walked with Candice. And he looked at Susan and Emma, walking along together, too. Then at Villain by his side. He was so grateful they were all here. So thankful none of his “core” group had fallen in last night’s attack by Martin.

  But that didn’t necessarily make things better. It didn’t make things right. He felt guilty for feeling somewhat grateful at all.

  He yawned. It stood to reason he hadn’t slept last night. To be honest, since they’d fled Heathwaite’s, they’d just headed up into the hills around it, off into the woods. He was a little disoriented. He knew he’d need to find a road eventually and get his bearings.

  After all, they had an end point. A target.

  Barrow.

  The rest of the group just didn’t know it yet.

  He thought about Barrow as he walked through the thick snow, and he felt his stomach tensing. He’d heard about that place before the attack last night, before the helicopters. He knew what his group would say if they found out about that. They’d blame him for what’d happened. They’d say they should’ve left Heathwaite’s earlier.

  That’s why he had to keep it under wraps.

  But at the same time…

  “Where exactly is it we’re heading again?” Candice asked.

  Jack swallowed a lump in his throat. “The helicopters were heading north. Got to assume they… they were heading somewhere along the coast.”

  “Seems kind of vague,” Candice said. “Don’t you think we should try and nail down something more specific? Or… or at least ask someone if they know any more than us? If there’s helicopters flying over this place, then word’s going to travel. Right?”

  Jack dug his fingers into the rifle he’d stolen from the woman last night. “We need to keep moving. We can’t afford to stop. Not while Martin’s group are out there. Come on.”

  He kept on walking, Villain by his side. But something caught his eye before he turned around. Emma. The way she looked at him with those narrowed eyes. Like she could see right through his bullshit.

  He couldn’t make it clear he knew Barrow was exactly where they were heading. After all, that would give away the truth about the people he ran into in the woods.

  He just had to head in that general direction.

  And he just had to hope they all made it there.

  As cautious as he felt about all of this.

  Because wherever this place was, whatever secrets it held… it wasn’t home.

  And as long as there were other people there… it was dangerous.

  “Maybe the helicopters were just sweeping over,” Bella added.

  Jack gritted his teeth. “They weren’t just ‘sweeping’ over, whatever the hell that means.”

  “Who’s to say they haven’t done, like, a loop or something? Headed back out to sea?”

  “Bella’s right,” Candice said. “We can’t discount the fact these helicopters might not be heading north. They could’ve turned. We need to stop. We need to ask someone. Not everyone’s a psychopath. There have to be other groups around here. Good groups. Someone we can reach out to—”

  “They haven’t turned around,” Jack snapped. “They are heading north. They…”

  He stopped. Saw the way everyone looked at him. Candice in particular.

  “How are you so certain?” she asked.

  He looked at her, and he felt his mask slipping. He wanted to keep it a secret. He wanted to protect his people.

  But he couldn’t lie. Not anymore.

  He lowered his head and sighed. “When… when I was in the woods the other day. I heard something.”

  Candice’s eyes narrowed. “You heard something?”

  “A group of pe
ople. They… they caught a stag. A stag I had my eyes on. And they said something. Something about… about a safe place. A place with… with power. In Barrow.”

  Silence followed. Jack could barely bring himself to look at his people.

  But when he did, he saw the disappointment in their eyes.

  Each and every one of them.

  “You kept this from us?” Candice asked.

  “It was just a rumour—”

  “You heard a frigging rumour about somewhere with power a matter of hours before we see helicopters flying over, and you decided to keep that from us?”

  “I know how it looks. But I was only trying to—”

  “Bullshit, Jack,” Candice said. “Bullshit. You kept it from us because you knew if everyone found out, we’d leave Heathwaite’s. The only reason you’re telling us now or even heading to this place at all is because you don’t have a choice. But you still weren’t going to tell us. You still weren’t going to let us know the full truth. Were you?”

  Jack wanted to argue. But all he could do was shake his head. “I did what I thought was right.”

  Candice stepped forward, squared right up to him. He could see her nostrils quivering. Her eyes wide with rage. “People died last night. They died, and that could’ve been prevented. This whole conflict with Martin’s people, that could’ve been prevented. If you’d only told the truth.”

  She looked for a second like she was going to slap Jack across the face.

  But in the end, she kept her hand by her side and pushed past him.

  And then he watched the rest of his group pass by.

  All of them looking at him judgementally.

  All of them looking at him with disgust.

  Hazel was last. She stopped. Looked at Jack. Shook her head.

  “This didn’t have to happen,” she said.

  And then she walked around him too, and off into the distance.

  And the hardest part of all, as Jack stood there, alone in the icy cold?

  He knew Hazel was right.

  He knew they were all right.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jack walked alone through the woods, only Villain by his side.

  It was late morning. Snow still wasn’t falling, but it was still freezing cold—which almost went without saying. The ground underfoot was frozen, slippery, and icy. Jack felt particularly cold because he didn’t have his thick parka on. The parka was one of the things that’d been lost in the attack.

  Like so much.

  And like so many.

  He walked ahead of the rest of the group, now. He glanced over his shoulder every now and then, checked they were still there. He didn’t want to let them out of his sight. But they didn’t seem too keen on joining him, either. He couldn’t exactly feel sorry for himself. They were right, after all. He’d kept the rumours of Barrow to himself. If he’d been open about that yesterday, everyone could’ve been out of Heathwaite’s before Martin launched his attack.

  But he’d done what he’d done for a reason. As guilty as he felt about what he’d done… he hadn’t done it to be selfish. He hadn’t done it to dictate over them.

  He’d done it because it felt like the right thing to do for his people.

  Because outsiders could not be trusted.

  And sometimes that meant making difficult decisions where his people were concerned.

  He heard footsteps creeping up behind him and braced himself for another barrage of insults.

  When he looked around, he saw Susan approaching.

  She half-smiled at him. Walked alongside him. Kept pace with him.

  “Come here to give me shit, too? Don’t bother. I know what the deal is.”

  Susan sighed. “I mean, giving you shit would be the most inviting option right now. And believe me, I’d love to crack you across the face. But… well. I don’t think that’d be very productive. And I wouldn’t want to give you an excuse to wallow in your self-pity any more than you already are.”

  Jack nodded. “I appreciate that.”

  “Jack… I get why you did what you did. I get why you kept the talk in the woods from us. I get why you’d do that. You didn’t want to stoke a mass exodus from Heathwaite’s. You didn’t want to give everyone hope when it could turn out to be false. And you couldn’t have known about the helicopters, or about Martin’s group. I know damned well if you’d known what was ahead, you’d have done things differently.”

  Jack looked at her, a little surprised. He wasn’t expecting that. “I sense there’s a ‘but’ coming.”

  Susan sighed. “But… you need to start trusting us, Jack. You need to start trusting our opinions. Yeah. You’re a leader. And you know what? You’re a good leader. But a leader is only the sum of the people around him. The people who help him. The people who advise him. You need to trust us, Jack. Before you lose us all.”

  Jack heard Susan’s words, and he wanted to shrug them off. He wanted to fight what she was implying.

  But he couldn’t.

  Because he knew she was right.

  He looked away from her, ahead into the woods. “You know… the last time I stepped into the background, the last time I trusted people, Harry died. Heathwaite’s almost fell. And then—then the time before that. The time I let my grip on the farm loosen. The time I trusted everyone to stay in line. The time I trusted my… my son. The time I trusted him not to run off into the trees. I lost him. I lost Wayne.”

  He glanced at Susan and saw her head lower.

  “And even before that. The times in my life I’ve let other people in. My best-damned friend, Pete. He ended up marrying my wife. The times I’ve trusted people, trusted outsiders… it always has the same outcome.”

  He was silent for a few seconds. His throat wobbled.

  And then he felt something.

  A hand on his arm.

  He looked around. Saw Susan looking right at him. Half-smiling, reassuringly.

  “But you trusted me, didn’t you?”

  He opened his mouth, went to protest. But she had a point.

  Susan was an outsider at one time.

  Susan was someone he hadn’t trusted.

  And now here she was.

  He felt her hand tighten around his arm again.

  “You have to trust us, Jack. You have to let us live a little. You might be a leader. But a part of leading is listening.”

  He looked into her eyes, and then he looked away.

  He heard her. Heard what she was saying.

  But it was still so painful.

  Still so raw.

  “I’ll do what I can,” Jack said.

  Susan took her hand away. “Good. Because if you don’t, you might…”

  Her voice trailed off.

  Because Jack had seen something.

  Something right ahead of him in the woods.

  Movement.

  There was a bearded man.

  Standing right there in front of him.

  Knife in his hand.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jack stared at the man standing before him and lifted his rifle.

  The man was older than him. He looked about mid-fifties. He wore a thick wool jacket buttoned right the way up to his chin. He was grey, bearded, and quite full-faced for someone who was just surviving in this world.

  He was holding a knife.

  “Whoa, there,” he said, lifting his hands. “We don’t want any trouble now, do we?”

  There wasn’t just this man. There were others behind him. Three that Jack could see. A woman. A young man. A girl.

  And then in the distance, through the snow-covered trees, Jack saw a few log cabins.

  A camp.

  “Seriously,” the man said. “Put your gun down. You walked on to our property, and I told you straight up we don’t want any trouble. Put that gun down right this second. Don’t get yourself in trouble.”

  Jack heard the footsteps approach. He saw the rest of his group appear by his side. Saw them all standin
g there, all looking on, all just as surprised as he was.

  That grey, bearded man kept his hands raised. Kept that knife visible. “Unless you want there to be trouble. But I’d say that’s a very bad move if you ask me.”

  “I’m the one pointing a rifle at you,” Jack said. “I’d say you’re the one in trouble.”

  The man’s smile widened. “Shit. You’ve really not got any trust at all, have you? I can relate, brother. I know how it is.”

  Jack heard this man’s words, and he wanted to put him down. He couldn’t resist that primal urge he felt. Because people were a problem. And anyone could be a threat. Anyone.

  “I guess nerves are bound to be a bit on edge,” he said. “Especially after the helicopters last night.”

  Jack lowered his rifle, just a little.

  “You saw them too?”

  “Saw them?” the man said. “Who didn’t? Question is, where are they going? And who’s flying those damned things? That’s what I’d love to know. Without getting too close, of course.”

  Jack frowned, keeping the Barrow talk on the low for now. “You’re not following them?”

  The man’s smile widened. “I’d love to talk. But you still have a rifle pointed at me. Why don’t you lay it down? Join us for some rest and some food? You look like you could use a hell of a lot of both.”

  Jack shook his head. “That’s not going to happen.”

  “Jack?”

  Jack looked around.

  It was Hazel who spoke.

  She looked at him with wide eyes like she wanted him to hear her out.

  And Susan looked at him that way, too.

  He thought about the conversation they’d just had.

  The talk about how he needed to listen to other people more.

  How he couldn’t keep overruling the group’s opinions.

  He looked back at this man, and he felt torn in two directions. One of wanting to keep walking. For the good of his group. The good of his people.

  And the other to actually hear out the wishes of his group. To actually respect what they wanted. Hear them out.

  And accept help when he needed it.

  “Come on,” the man said. “A little food. And a little rest. It’s squirrel. Nice, charred squirrel. Irresistible, huh?”