Instant Mayhem
EMP Crisis Series: Book 3
Mark J. Russell
J.J. Holden
Copyright © 2020 by JJ Holden / Mark J. Russell
All rights reserved.
www.jjholdenbooks.com
Kindle Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Mayhem is about to boil over.
After the most recent attack on their remote compound in Central Vermont, Abram and Nick find themselves safe, for now. But when a new group rises up to take advantage of the turmoil caused by the massive solar flare, Abram and his fledgling community will have to become more proactive if they want to survive.
A final threat that will spell their demise.
A member of this new group has intimate details of the compound and is ready to strike at a moment’s notice. But his leader’s plans are far sweeping and risk putting the entire region into the hands of a madman.
A time for leadership and strength.
With this new threat on the horizon, Abram, Nick, and their allies must act now to have any chance at long-term survival. Will they persevere through their most difficult test and find peace in their community? Or will they perish under the iron fist of Vermont’s new strongman, and suffer a fate even worse than death?
Instant Mayhem is book three in the EMP Crisis Series, a post-apocalyptic survival thriller series about regular people struggling to survive after a solar EMP.
NOTE: This is the third book in the EMP Crisis series. If you are new to this series, be sure to check out BOOK ONE.
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
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1
Palmer Davidson hid behind the brush, studying his quarry. He’d encountered this man on the road earlier that day, and their short exchange ran through Palmer’s mind. The man hadn’t given an inch, hadn’t even been thrown off or distracted at the gift Palmer had tossed him—a chocolate bar that was left to melt on the concrete. Now, the man lurked around what appeared to be an abandoned house off a back road a few miles outside Fenton, and Palmer was unsure of when to strike.
Letting out a long breath, Palmer waited in the shadows. Unlike the briefly useful Joshua, whom Palmer had eviscerated outside the compound near Fenton when his usefulness had run out, this man seemed built for this new world. Perhaps he could be a valuable asset to Palmer…Or maybe he’d be Palmer’s future competition if he didn’t nip this in the bud sooner than later.
He squinted as the man surveyed the structure. The two-story brick farmhouse was surrounded by overgrown bushes, grass, and weeds, as well as a few vines that snaked up a downspout. The man hunched down as he passed one window after another, then settled on entering through the front door. An overhanging roof cast a shadow across the porch, where it took a minute for the man to jimmy the lock. The door swung inward, and the man entered the dark space, closing the door behind him. Was there anyone else in that house? Or maybe it had been left empty, allowing the man the perfect opportunity to loot the place, or hole up for the rest of the evening.
Hopefully, he’d hole up. All Palmer would have to do was wait for his chance to pounce.
A few minutes passed—only the sound of wind through the trees could be heard. Palmer’s hunter instinct tingled as he waited.
Soon, he’d step out from his concealment to make his way toward the house. Excitement boiled up as the minutes ticked on. This was going to be fun.
Gary Kruse regulated his breathing as he stepped toward the abandoned house. If this were like the previous houses he’d stopped at today, nobody would be home to prevent him from looting the place.
He pulled the straps of his backpack, only half-full after he’d eaten through much of his supply of salvaged non-perishables. Those types of foods were all that was available these days—all the fresh produce was long gone, eaten in the first few days of the solar flare or now sitting rotten in pantries, warm refrigerators, and grocery stores. Hopefully, he’d find some food in this house, but it was a long shot. Most of the obvious food stores had been looted. This house, however, might’ve been tucked far enough off any main road that it could have been overlooked. Here’s to hoping.
A dry twig snapped off to his left, and he whipped his head to look. Nothing. He paused a moment, his ears straining to pick up on any subsequent noise, but only silence answered from the woods that surrounded the property. Maybe a squirrel or another small critter had rustled in the underbrush. No large animal—or human—lurked out there, and if it did, it wasn’t making itself known.
Gary turned his attention back toward the house and made quick work of checking the exterior. All of the windows appeared intact, and the doors didn’t appear to have been tampered with—maybe he was right that this was far enough off the beaten path. As he made his way around the house, no signs of life could be detected, but that didn’t mean someone wasn’t inside. Only one way to find out.
At the front door, Gary pulled a lock-picking set from his pack—a gem he’d found in a workshop closer to Fenton that greatly enhanced his ability to get in and out silently—and in less than a minute, he crept through the open door and inside the ho
use. They took some skill to use, but a checkered past was a boon, not a curse, these days.
The overcast day kept the foyer in shadows, and Gary glanced around, taking a long drag of the stale air. The place hadn’t been ransacked, but it appeared that whoever had lived here before the CME had left in a hurry, though not too much of a hurry to lock the place down before leaving.
Gary unholstered his .45-caliber 1911 pistol, his companion on the road since finding it in a house shortly after escaping the compound. Squinting, he headed straight down a hallway, then pulled a flashlight from his pack. With hands crossed, so his wrists touched together in an X formation, he crept forward with his light leading the way, his pistol aimed at the same spot.
Lopsided pictures populated the wall, and he spared a second to glance at a portrait of a family with a cocker spaniel. Gary’s brow knit. What happened to these people? Maybe they were somewhere else, safe from the horrors of this new world, but that was wishful thinking—more than likely, they perished in the chaos following the solar flare. The dog might have become feral, or perhaps it transformed into someone’s meal.
Gary went from room to room, closet to closet, methodically sweeping the first floor. The kitchen didn’t have much left in the way of salvage, but he found a few items that he quickly added to his pack. Then he continued into the dining room, the last room to check on the first floor.
His boot crunched on glass, and he looked down. A picture frame lay beneath his tread, and he crouched down to pick it up.
He grimaced.
The family was dressed in their Sunday best in this portrait, though this one was so formal that the cocker spaniel was absent. The mother and father wore smiles that shone brightly, and Gary cocked his head—the guy reminded him of Nick. Naïve. Weak. The woman was stunning, a valuable commodity in this new world. The kids—a boy and girl—reminded him of Rae Ann and Corey, Nick’s children. He wondered for a moment what their fates would be, but then shrugged off the thought. No use thinking about that. When he returned to the compound, if they were still alive, he’d let them stay there after he wrestled it back from Abram’s disorganized leadership. With Gary at the helm, they’d have a chance of surviving the long road ahead.
Before dropping the picture, Gary noted the cracked glass. Realizing the symbolism, the corners of his mouth ticked up. This model family’s lifestyle, enjoying the American dream of a house, two-point-five kids, and a stupid yappy dog, had cracked and would never return. People like these wouldn’t do what was needful, and so, by their absence, America would one day be filled with the strong and courageous. His voice came out low as he moved on: “Irony.”
Next, he’d check the second floor for life, and hopefully, he’d find a few useful supplies. Before making his way up there, he headed back to the kitchen as quietly as he could and found two empty glass bottles sitting on the counter. He grabbed one with his flashlight hand, taking it over to the door that led from the kitchen out into the back yard. He carefully placed the bottle in front of the door—if anyone entered this way, the bottle would topple over, alerting him to an intruder’s presence.
He hurried back over to the counter and grabbed the second bottle, then went to the front door and set up the same early warning system “trigger.”
Only then did he feel ready to make his way upstairs.
On the first step, it creaked loudly, and he paused a moment, listening for any movement upstairs. Nothing.
He continued ascending the wooden stairs that creaked with each step, though no sounds came from the second floor. Either it was unoccupied, or whoever was up there was sleeping.
At the top of the steps, he hung a right down a hallway, starting with a bedroom. This one most definitely belonged to the little girl—its walls were a horrendous shade of pink that matched the comforter on the bed. No signs of life, and nothing of salvage value in there.
Onto the next room—the master bedroom. There, he found a pair of wool socks. He placed them in his pack—these would be worth their weight in gold come winter.
He rummaged through the closets and found a few items of value, but before he could grab them, a noise sounded from downstairs—one of the bottles had been tipped over.
2
Abram Patterson stepped through the woods, the dry leaves cracking beneath his feet. The fog lifting off the ground told him it was early morning. But where was he?
He scanned his surroundings, looking for signs of life.
Nothing.
Heart pounding in his chest, he worried that someone could be following him. He continued along, trying to find a point of reference. How had he strayed from the compound and lost his bearings? He couldn’t recall exactly when that had happened.
As he walked, his mind drifted to the attack on the compound. Gary’s escape. The threats that still lay beyond, in the world that had gone mad following the solar flare that plunged the country into the Dark Ages.
Maybe Gary was luring him into a trap. That bastard would probably do his damnedest to get revenge on Abram for locking him up for a week. But Gary deserved worse. He’d killed a man in cold blood, an act that had led to Abram’s daughter, Emma, being kidnapped.
Scanning around again, he didn’t see a living thing in sight.
A hint of death tickled his nose.
What the hell was that smell?
Abram could only assume it was a rotting animal carcass…
Buzzing sounded off to his left, and when he whipped his head in that direction, he noticed a dark cloud. Flies.
Abram cocked his head. So, he’d found the source of the stench.
There, beneath a pile of leaves and twigs, he spotted a pink patch of fabric.
He squinted to see, stepping closer. A few locks of straggling blonde strands snaked out from under the brush, and it was at that moment, Abram knew the gravity of this discovery.
A girl.
He sucked in a deep breath, but immediately regretted it. The stench was more oppressive now and seemed to block the oxygen around him.
Crouching down, he covered his nose and mouth with one hand, and with the other, removed the brush.
His stomach churned at the sight.
It was his sister.
Miranda.
“My God…”
Her face was purple and swollen, a few maggots in the process of devouring her cheek. A dark bruise around her neck created a ring around her otherwise pale flesh. He immediately knew how that bastard who’d abducted her had put her out of her misery.
His mind could barely wrap around what he was seeing. There was no way for him to process this—he could barely keep his mind from spinning out of control. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on anything else. Still, there she was again, seemingly burned into the back of his eyelids.
When he opened his eyes again, hers were open as well, shocking crystal-blue eyes staring back at him, cold as a Vermont lake.
Her mouth opened, and a worm slithered out.
Abram’s eyes widened as her mouth closed slowly, and then…
…her mouth and eyes opened as if her lips and lids were about to fly off her face. And in the next instant, Abram’s eardrums practically ruptured at the cacophony that escaped his dead sister’s mouth.
Squawk!
Abram jumped up and looked around.
Instead of seeing Miranda’s body, all he saw was the makeshift desk that held his ham radio equipment. He was back in the basement of the main house on his compound in Central Vermont. He wobbled in his swivel chair, trying not to fall out of it.
The radio squawked again.
“CQ, CQ, calling CQ, CQ.” The voice on the other end gave their call sign and frequency, before continuing, “Anyone out there?”
Abram clutched the handset. “That’s affirmative.” He gave his call sign and frequency, along with his general location.
“I’m up near Nettletown,” came the voice through the static. “Things have gone from bad to worse here. Bandits are bec
oming more organized, and some are being absorbed by a nearby town. How are things down your way? Over.”
Abram’s lips flatlined. This was what he’d feared. Intuitively, he knew that some strongman would eventually rise up and consolidate the bandits, and it seemed that that time had come. He and his people had been attacked by a smaller bandit group, with a leader who wore an eye patch. Though they’d struggled to keep those bastards from taking over the compound, they had eventually been victorious, killing every last one of them. Of course, they’d lost one of their own, a woman named Kat. She’d lost her life at the beginning of the attack on the compound.
He let out a long breath, then keyed the mic. “One bandit threat neutralized here, two days ago, but we have some enemies of our own in the periphery. Things are still fragile in our neck of the woods. Tell me, which town has been absorbing the bandits? Over.”
“Not sure, but whoever it is, they’re getting close. A neighboring town was just raided. We have good reason to think we’re next.”
EMP Crisis Series (Book 3): Instant Mayhem Page 1
