EMP Crisis Series (Book 3): Instant Mayhem

by Russell, Mark J.

  Frank shrugged. “I don’t know, but he locked eyes with me. If he’d ever seen me around the compound, I don’t know how he could have missed putting it together. But maybe it’s not a big deal. I mean, he didn’t see you, after all. And he probably didn’t recognize me.”

  Abram shook his head, suddenly tired despite the hour. “If he locked eyes with you, we have to at least proceed on the assumption that he knew who you were. So, what does that mean for us?”

  Owen immediately replied, “It would mean he knows Burnsville is at least talking to us. He wouldn’t know why, though, so there’s that.”

  Abram felt a chilly spider in the back of his brain, sending goosebumps down his shoulders and into his arms. “I know him. He would assume it’s the worst-case scenario. For him, if he’s with Black, that means he’ll think we’re here to talk the town into protecting us. Whatever influence he has, if he has designs on the compound, he’ll use it to get Black to look our way. Maybe he’ll even want the bandits to help take us over. I’m pretty sure he thought he could lead us better than me, but either way, he had some weird sense of entitlement to the compound. He thought his contribution was bigger than everyone else’s, including mine. Damn him.”

  Maybe they were right. Maybe he should have killed him when he had the chance.

  No.

  Abram shook the thought away. That was not how he did things, and the minute he started thinking like Gary, he’d lose the right to be the leader.

  Miranda…She was with Black and Gary. She’d been Wyatt’s wife. What Abram had said about Brooke being a potential threat, as their dead leader Wyatt’s daughter, was equally true of the man’s widow. Miranda was in danger, now, too—even more so, if Kent refused to give up Brooke when Black inevitably got around to demanding her. Someone like Black, Abram understood. He had been cunning enough to get the self-entitled Gary to be his follower, and a man that cunning would soon start looking to tie up loose ends.

  Abram struggled to keep his knees from buckling at the thought, and moved to sit on the bed. He might very well lose his sister, for a second time. Only this time, it would be for real—and Black wouldn’t dirty his own hands. He’d have his pet Rottweiler, Gary, do the dirty work. What a world, where Abram might lose the sister he hadn’t known still lived to a man so many had told him to execute, a man who had escaped when Abram refused.

  And once they had solidified their hold on Clarks Crossing, Gary would definitely come for the compound, for payback, and probably as a reward for killing Miranda.

  Abram struggled to catch his breath and slow his heartbeat. He needed someone to talk to.

  As soon as he could get up without drawing attention from the others, he’d go talk to Nick on the radio. Abram couldn’t do anything about the situation, but a friendly voice would help him deal with it. He hoped so, at least.

  33

  Nick set the headphones back on their hook, screwed into the basement desk next to the shortwave radio, and let out a low whistle as he wrote a nondescript entry into the radio log to document the conversation, if not its content. He glanced at the door; his replacement on radio duty would be Dexter, due to arrive in a few minutes. He was glad he’d been alone to receive the news out of Burnsville, though radio duty was about the most boring part of his routine.

  Not that day, though.

  It had been difficult just listening to Abram unload his problems, but the man had never before done that. These problems, though, ranked far above the usual issues of who would sort the eggs, settling petty squabbles, or planning the always-improving defenses around the complex. Still, it was nice to know that even the all-wise Abram himself was merely a human mortal, like the rest of them.

  The weight of Abram’s problems had been too much for the man to bear in silence, but in unloading them, Abram had made them become Nick’s problems, too. They probably weighed on Abram more heavily, due to his personal connections involved, but that wasn’t to say they were light on Nick’s mind, either. Wow. Abram’s sister, alive and in danger she had no clue she faced. The poor man.

  “Abram’s going to lose it if his sister dies again,” Nick muttered aloud.

  “Say what, now?” Dexter said.

  Nick jumped up from his seat, clutching his chest, his heart pounding. “Damn. Anyone ever teach you to knock? You scared the hell out of me.”

  “Sorry. Am I interrupting? I wasn’t trying to be quiet.”

  Taking a deep breath, Nick stepped aside within the small space, making room for Dexter to get to the radio operator’s chair. “Kind of. No. Maybe.”

  Dexter moved to the chair, but instead of sitting down, he faced Nick and said, “Yeah, those are the three possibilities. Which one is it, though?” He glanced down at the radio log and cocked his head. “Long talk with Abram, I see.”

  Nick nodded, wondering how much to say about his chat with their leader.

  Dexter didn’t let it go, though. “What’s this about his sister dying, man? You know, you can tell me. Abram matters as much to me as he does to you. And sometimes, it’s nice not having to bear crap all by your lonesome.”

  Yeah, that’s what Abram must have felt, talking about it.

  Nick smiled politely. “You’re here for me, huh?”

  “Sure am.” Dexter grinned, just a flash of a smile, then plopped down into the chair with a faint groan. “Ah, my feet hurt from walking the wire,” he said.

  His duties that day had included checking all the perimeter fences, especially the trapped and newly electrified ones, Nick recalled.

  “Well, I may as well tell you. Abram didn’t specifically say not to tell anyone, I guess. But this has to stay between us, for now, at least until I decide when and how best to inform the others. Acceptable?”

  Dexter nodded and picked up the headphones from their hook. He put them around his neck, but left the padded muffs off his ears. “Call me Doc-P. The doctor is in.”

  Nick leaned against the desk, taking a bit of the pressure off his feet. He avoided asking who Doc-P was, to avoid some lengthy backstory he didn’t care about at the moment. Dexter was weird, sometimes. He said, “You remember Gary, of course. Well, he’s alive and well—and working as a thug for some guy named Black, who took over Clarks Crossing.”

  Dexter frowned. “Damn. That’s a pretty big town, for this region.”

  “Yeah. Worse, this Black person has somehow turned them all from simple survivors into his willing bandit army, apparently under the guise of restoring order to our little region of the world. It’s not strong-arm robbery, it’s taxes. Like he’s the government, or something.”

  Dexter let out his own low whistle. “That’s insane. But what do I know? The whole world seems to have gone insane, to me. But how do you know all this?”

  “It gets worse, just listen. It turns out that the bandits had a traitor among them. One of them escaped town and fled to Burnsville to warn them that they were next on Black’s target list…and that guy happened to know Abram’s sister.”

  “He doesn’t have a sister.”

  Nick shook his head. “No, he did, but she died when he was younger. Or, he thought she had. But it turned out that she’d only been kidnapped, and she was raised as some other family’s kid. Now she’s the widow of the guy who led the bandits before Black took over and twisted them up. His sister doesn’t even know about Abram, and probably doesn’t know the danger she is in.”

  Dexter picked up a pen and began to click it over and over. “Why does he believe she’s in danger? I’m not saying he’s wrong, but that’s a big leap of intuition, without proof.”

  Too true, but Nick trusted Abram’s gut. If Abram said it, then he had reasons. “Well…Abram is afraid the bandit leader will kill her, simply for being the old leader’s wife.”

  “He thinks they might take her to be a threat to Clarks Crossing’s new program, is that it?”

  “Yeah. But there’s more. Miranda is also, I think, the mother of the dead leader’s daughter. And
guess where she is.”

  “No way.” Dexter’s jaw dropped.

  Nick nodded. “Yep. She’s in Burnsville, with Abram.”

  It was Dexter’s turn to shake his head. “These are the Days of Our Lives…But wait, wouldn’t the dead guy’s daughter also be a threat to the new regime? And she’d be Abram’s niece, too. Damn, that sucks.”

  “Probably would be considered a threat, yeah, especially after Black kills her mother, too.” Nick shrugged. “A bandit envoy showed up at the gates. Abram thinks they showed up at Burnsville’s doorstep when they did because that guy betrayed them.”

  “Looking to see if he was there.”

  Nick nodded. “Something along those lines. But it’s unlikely they missed the daughter’s presence there, so now, both his sister and his niece are in danger, and they don’t even realize it. But Abram says the bandits are really well organized, and much bigger than the roving bands of hungry losers we expected, or the ones we already fought.”

  Dexter’s frown deepened. “With Gary among them, the bandits definitely know where we are, and if they aren’t here today, they’ll be here soon.”

  Nick sighed. That was the sum total of the problem. “Yes. After they deal with Burnsville, probably. You get what I’m saying?”

  Dexter’s pale complexion paled a little more. “Abram’s going to lose his family, his farm, and his friends, one after the other. And if any of us are spared, we’ll have Gary’s boot on our neck, instead of Abram’s arm around it.”

  Nick couldn’t argue the logic. It had been his conclusion, too. He could only nod in mute agreement.

  Dexter turned to face the shortwave radio unit on the desk. “It’s time for my radio checks.”

  “I’ll leave you to it,” Nick said and headed toward the door. He had to check the duty roster twice on his way to feed the animals, to remind himself what he was supposed to be doing at the moment, his thoughts were so distracted.

  Corey stood beside the radio desk, bent over, and set down a midnight snack for Emma as she smiled in greeting and took off a pair of headphones connected to the shortwave radio. He said, “Here you go. I thought you could use something to eat, before I relieve you.”

  Her eyes were already devouring the slices of smoked meats and cheese he’d stacked around a small pile of crackers for her. “Thanks. I’m famished, actually. I didn’t have time to eat before relieving Dex, and now it’s super late.”

  The radio crackled, and they both looked at it like it had jumped up and started doing a waltz on the desk. Emma put the headphones back on, and Corey listened as she used the radio protocols to identify herself.

  The “caller” turned out to be none other than her father, Abram. This was odd. Why would her dad radio them in the middle of the night? The log clearly showed he’d spoken to Corey’s dad earlier, but it read like basically just a status update. For her father to call back now, in the middle of the night…What had Abram and his dad really discussed?

  She talked in what sounded to Corey to be some kind of shorthand, or radio code. After a couple of verbal exchanges he hardly understood, she looked up at him. “Corey, get Nick. My dad wants to talk to your dad again. He needs to hurry, though, because Dad doesn’t want the others over there to know he’s up.”

  That was odd, too, but Corey nodded and then bolted from the room. Down the stairs, across the bottom floor, to the guestroom he and his sister Rae Ann now shared with their father.

  His dad was asleep on the couch, so Corey crept across the floor, avoiding that one creaky floorboard, and knelt beside him. “Dad. Wake up.”

  “Huh? What’s up?” Nick muttered, rubbing one eye with the heel of his hand.

  “Abram’s on the radio, asking for you. He wants you right away. Like, right now. You have to get up.” Corey reached over to where his dad’s shoes were neatly set out with clean socks for the morning, and set them by his father. “Shoes. Come on, we have to go.”

  Nick sat up, breathing heavily, something Corey had noticed most old people did when they were waking up and first arose. Thankfully, Corey was in better shape than that. He’d never let himself get old and tired. Old, maybe, but not tired out like they were. Probably not old, either—he halfway thought he and God had a deal, and thirty was a mystical number he’d never reach. Silly, of course, but he still kind of thought it. “Come on. You have to get up, Dad.”

  Nick grunted but put on his shoes and then arose. “Let’s go,” he mumbled as he headed for the door, wobbling.

  Corey followed as they made their way together down to the basement. Halfway there, when Rae Ann was too far to hear anything, he said, “Dad, Abram didn’t want to wake up Frank and Owen from the chatter, and I think he’s got something to say he doesn’t want the others here to catch wind of.”

  Nick grunted, sounding almost like a “yes.” Had he expected this call?

  When they reached the kitchen, Corey opened the basement door and led his father downstairs to the radio room, where Emma still sat with headphones on.

  She looked up as they entered, and standing, removed the headphones. “There you are. My dad’s on the other end and wants to talk to you.”

  Nick rubbed his eyes with one hand again, and reached for the headset mic with the other. He put it on and sat, then gave his call sign. He paused, then switched over to another channel, Corey couldn’t see which one, then repeated his call sign. Another pause, then Nick said, “God only knows. But there’s little you can do, given your, um…” He glanced at Corey and Emma, then said, “—your situation. No, I’m happy to hear from you again, forget about it. I was awake anyway.”

  He waved Corey and Emma away, jerking his thumb toward the door. Reluctantly, Corey took her hand and they left the room together, closing the door behind them.

  Once upstairs, Corey glanced at Emma and muttered, “I wonder what that’s about.”

  Just as quietly, she replied, “Dexter told me a bit, but made me promise to keep it to myself.”

  “Yeah? Did Abram ask you to leave the room when my dad got here?”

  “No…”

  Corey grinned. “So, it’s like when reporters get a breaking story early. They can’t talk about it, it’s called an ‘embargo,’ but if someone else mentions it publicly, then the embargo gets lifted. You can talk about it to me now, because I’m here and you’re here, he knows you’re here, but he didn’t know you knew.”

  Emma frowned. “I don’t think it works like that, and it’s hard to follow your logic. Fine, but keep it to yourself, okay?”

  Corey nodded. “Cross my heart.”

  Her eyes narrowed slightly, and the corners of her mouth ticked upward. “Okay. Get this. Dexter heard from Nick that Abram has a sister who lives with bandits who took over Clarks Crossing, and a niece in Burnsville, where he is. They don’t know about him, but Dex was sure they’re both in danger from the bandits. Something about what he called a ‘succession crisis,’ or something along those lines. Like, the bandits weren’t in charge for real until Abram’s family was out of the way. I don’t know why.”

  Corey found himself frowning. What the hell did that mean? “That’s not what the log said. Define ‘out of the way,’ for me.”

  “Killed.” Her lips flatlined. “They’re the wife and daughter of the town’s old leader.”

  “Like you with your dad, if he got killed and Gary took over.”

  She nodded. Then, her eyes went wide. She looked around the room, like someone else might overhear, then said, “Gary is alive, too. He’s working as the new bandit king’s chief lieutenant, doing the guy’s dirty work.”

  Corey frowned some more. From bad to worse. He glanced at the battery-operated wall clock. It had been long enough. “Well, thanks for telling me what the heck is going on. You’re still on radio duty, though. Let’s go see if you can do your job again.”

  She nodded, and followed him back down to the basement, and when they cracked open the door, Corey looked at his father talking quiet
ly into the headset mic. He craned his neck, trying to hear better.

  Nick glowered at the door, and said, “No…Don’t be hard on yourself. Of course, you gave up…But you’re stuck there, so what do you…Oh.” Nick’s voice trailed off, and the headset buzzed as he and Abram spoke back and forth.

  Corey’s eyes widened. Abram was stuck there? That was new. Why was Abram stuck in Burnsville? Why wouldn’t Frank’s son-in-law help them come home, if something had gone wrong?

  A thought dawned on him. The only thing that could have gone wrong that would keep Abram stuck in Burnsville was if the truck had broken down. Dammit, Corey had told them it was a bad idea for them to bring that pickup, instead of the SUV.

  “No…” Nick replied, his voice coming suddenly clearer in Abram’s headset for a moment.

  Abram fought the urge to shout at him, but yelling into the hand-held shortwave radio they’d brought, in case the car’s unit got fried, might wake the others. He had insisted, under the old adage of “two is one, one is none.”

  Thank goodness he’d listened to his own advice and brought it, though it was irreplaceable. With effort, he kept his voice low, but could hear the tension in it. “It doesn’t matter whether she knows or not. I know. I shouldn’t have given up on her, but that’s the past. Right now, she’s alive, and I know where. And she’s in danger. Do you think she knows it?”

  “Don’t be hard on yourself. Of course, you gave up,” Nick replied, his quiet voice amplified by Abram’s headset.

  “Forget about that. You miss the damn point, Nick. Black is going to take over everything, and you know as well as I do that he’ll give the compound to Gary with all of you in it. Gary won’t make the same mistake I did, mark my words—he’ll take out Emma and Shelly before the dust even settles.” Abram heard his voice rising in volume.

  It was hard not to shout. All he wanted to do was scream, feeling helpless. It wasn’t a familiar feeling.