EMP Crisis Series (Book 3): Instant Mayhem

by Russell, Mark J.

  “But you’re stuck there, so what do you…” Nick’s voice trailed off, the words left hanging.

  Abram knew, though. Nick had been about to tell him there was nothing he could do about it. And the worst part of it was that Nick was right. But maybe he wouldn’t have to do anything.

  And here I’d been against bringing anyone into my home. How foolish I was.

  Abram cursed himself. He could have had twice as many people, by now, if he’d only listened to Nick. And Abram knew his real options were few. The one option that dominated his thoughts went against every fiber of his being, even helpless to do anything about it himself.

  He took a deep breath to steady himself, then said the last words he had ever expected to hear himself say. “I can’t do anything about it.” He drew in a deep breath, then charged ahead. “But there is someone who can, and that’s you, Nick.”

  “Oh…” Nick’s voice shook as he said that one little word, though in Abram’s ears, it seemed to carry so much understanding in it.

  Abram grimaced. This was asking a lot, and he couldn’t blame Nick if he refused—but so much was riding on this, far beyond just Abram’s own family’s survival…He had to bite the bullet and just ask. “Nick, go rescue my sister, whether she wants it or not.”

  “Me? How can I go get her?”

  Abram paused. Nick’s voice didn’t sound doubtful at all. More like he was reciting a script. Had he thought of it, himself?

  Nick continued, “Someone has to keep this place running while Frank’s in-law has you cooped up inside the town.”

  Abram could practically hear in the man’s voice him begging not to be the one. But Nick was the only one who could, the only one the compound could spare given the events now bearing down on them all. Or maybe he was hoping Abram would offer him a way out of it.

  Not a chance. It was the moment of truth. Abram had no choice but to ask, and they all had only one hope—and Nick was it, dammit. “I wish I could let you out of this. But listen carefully, Nick. We can shake up the bandit’s game plan if we can get my sister out of there. You’re the only one the compound can spare for this, besides the kids, and they’re not up to this.”

  “But what if he doesn’t realize he should do something to your sister? What if—”

  “You know as well as I do that if we take her, we have a shot at caving in his empire before it starts. She’d be a rallying symbol of their old leader. She could rule in his place, instead of this Black guy. My sister was his wife. My sister, Nick.”

  There was a long pause, and Abram half expected the signal to go dead. Instead, Nick’s shaky voice said at last, “So, I go up north and find her. Get her out of there and take her to Burnsville.”

  “Yes,” Abram said, feeling like he should be smiling, but feeling no joy at the prospect of sending Nick into the lion’s den. “My niece is here, and you’re a parent. You know my sister would do anything to protect her daughter, including convincing Kent to fight back. That’s the end goal to this. Kent will fight, I think, if we can give him real hope of winning in the end.”

  “Should I go by myself?” Nick’s voice had become small and flat, fragile in Abram’s ears.

  “Yes, unless you can think of anyone else to take. Sneak into Clarks Crossing and grab the woman who goes by ‘Misty,’ the widow of their old leader, Wyatt.”

  “It’ll be dangerous,” Nick said, sounding more resigned than afraid.

  “Yes, more than I probably even know, but it’s our only shot. Unless you want to leave the compound and take your chances on the outside, before Gary takes over, then you’ve got to do this or face the certain knowledge that you’ll be licking Gary’s boots before the next full moon. If he doesn’t kill you, that is.”

  He paused, drawing another deep breath, then told Nick about Nettletown. What they’d found had been horrific, and Nick needed to know what he was facing. But Abram still had to ask. It was for family, something Nick understood very well.

  When he was done, Abram carefully unclicked the mic, and let himself breathe out, slow and shaky. Why was it so damn hard to ask for help? And why did he have to send a fine man like Nick on a likely suicide mission? Nick was a friend, too, which was exactly why he would do it for Abram. Nick shared Abram’s own moral compass, it seemed. Too bad such true-north ethics were a hindrance, these days. But they could also be a strength.

  A pause. Then, in Abram’s ear, Nick cemented his opinion of him forever. “Yeah. I’ll do it. I was thinking of it anyway. I’ll find your sister and bring her to you, then go pray for forgiveness.”

  “Forgiveness? Why?” Abram cocked his head, genuinely surprised.

  Nick replied, “Because a lot more people are going to die because of this plan. But I’ll pray on my own time. You don’t know how much I owe you, Abram. Of course, I’ll go. They’re your family, man—and that makes them all of ours, too.”

  Abram’s heart soared, even as the hairs on his arms stood on end from goosebumps, despite the warm early-morning weather. He’d been such a damn fool to think he could get by in this world without anyone’s help, any more than the people under his care could have survived this long without him rescuing them. Abram swore never to forget the lesson, even if old habits died hard. He had Nick to thank for making him open his eyes—and for going to save his family.

  34

  “…don’t know how much I owe you, Abram. Of course, I’ll go…” Nick was nodding, as though Abram could see the gesture through the radio. He was saying some sappy stuff, too.

  Go where? Corey strained to hear his father muttering into the radio, “At first light, we’re gone. I’ll make sure it’s a solid choice.”

  Corey and Emma locked eyes, and her expression mirrored his own surprised, confused feelings. That sounded like Dad was going to leave again. And with someone. But Dad couldn’t leave! He had responsibilities at the compound, things no one else could do. His father was indispensable. Wasn’t he?

  When Corey heard his father going through the sign-off procedures, he faced him directly, waited until he took off the headset—which felt like an eternity—then blurted, “What’s going on, Dad?”

  Nick set the headphones down, not bothering to reset the radio’s frequency, and stared at his son.

  Corey began to fidget under that stare, which went on and on. His father was struggling with something, he could tell. Something big. The other shoe was about to drop, as the old people sometimes said. Corey had never understood that figure of speech, before, but now he got it.

  Nick rubbed his eyes. “Son, I’m going to Clarks Crossing—”

  “No!” Corey shouted before he realized what he was doing. “Dad, that’s the bandit town, right? Why the hell would you abandon us to go there?”

  “Watch your mouth, son. There’s a lady present.” Nick held Corey’s gaze, unflinching.

  Well, his dad was right. Corey looked down. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. But I have to—”

  “Dad, it’s stupid. You can’t just walk into a bandit camp all by yourself, and why the hel…Why would Abram ask you to?”

  Nick shifted his gaze to Emma and said, “I need to swear you to secrecy. This is important, and you need to keep this to yourself. Everything you’ve heard.”

  Emma put her fists on her hips, standing akimbo. “Yeah, right. That sounded too important not to tell everyone.”

  “No!” Nick half rose from his seat, then caught himself. He sat back down. “Emma, promise me, right now—and then leave. I swear, this is too important not to keep it to yourself. Please, just trust me. Trust your dad. There’s reasons.”

  Corey glanced back and forth between his father and Emma. Who would back down first? Some part of him wanted Emma there, if only to have someone to commiserate with when his father left on some stupid suicide mission that might or might not have any impact on their situation, might or might not protect them and the compound, might or might not do a dozen other important things.

&
nbsp; Might…but might not.

  Emma shrugged, instead of backing down. “I’ll promise, if you let me stay and listen to what’s going on. I know enough to be dangerous, and I’ll use it.”

  Nick’s flat-lipped expression shifted, and he looked amused, not angry, to Corey’s mild surprise. He said, “Fine, stay and listen, and then keep it to yourself. I can’t have you running around telling everyone what’s going on, because it’ll cause a panic, but you’re as stubborn as your father.”

  Emma grinned. She surely took that as a compliment.

  Nick didn’t grin back.

  Nick looked at his son, and felt a flood of regret. Sadness, even. This was not what he wanted for his son.

  But Corey was a man now, and Nick had sworn to himself that he’d treat him like one, but it was hard to see the young man standing where his tiny toddler had stood seemingly only yesterday…

  It took a while to build the courage to make this real by saying it aloud.

  Corey shifted from one foot to the other under that mournful gaze. “Okay, so spill it, Dad.”

  “I’m getting to it.” Maybe, Nick thought, he could go back to bed, and when he woke up, this would all have just been a terrible dream. But he knew it wasn’t, and hiding his head in the sand could get his family killed just as assuredly as what he was about to do for Abram’s could.

  Better to die trying, though.

  That thought struck Nick like a hammer-blow to the head, and he knew it was time. And deep down, he was confident that his son would make him proud, whether either of them came home again. Ultimately, it was worth the attempt, to save all their lives.

  He let out a long breath, and felt the tension flow away, down his arms and out his fingertips, as he came to his final decision. He didn’t dare look at Emma, or he might lose his nerve. “Son, I’m going to Clarks Crossing to kidnap Abram’s sister and bring her to her daughter in Burnsville, where Abram is trapped. He plans to set the two of them as the rightful heirs to the Clarks Crossing throne, chipping away the bandit king’s support base, his source of strength.”

  “You can’t do that alone. You can’t possibly be seriously thinking of going,” Corey said, the words coming out rapid-fire.

  Nick continued as though Corey hadn’t spoken. “There’s only one man I want at my side when I do this.”

  “No,” Emma cried out, “you can’t be serious. Are you stupid? You’ll be killing your son, you know that!”

  Corey blinked, confusion etched on his face.

  Nick looked her in her eyes, which went wide as she clapped both hands over her mouth. Probably shocked at herself. He replied, “I am deadly serious. No, I’m not stupid. Neither is your father, and he feels this is our only chance to prevent Gary from showing up with an army to kill or enslave us all. I believe him, and more importantly, I trust his judgment.”

  Nick swallowed hard. He looked back to his son. This was it, no going back…“I’m going, that’s a fact. Corey, there are seven other adults here, more than enough to protect the compound and Rae Ann while we’re gone, who can each handle something critical here better than you or I can.”

  Corey blinked again. “I…what?”

  “You’re the only one who can be spared to come with me, but son, you’re also the only man I’d want by my side when I march into the lion’s den. You’re not a kid anymore. You’re smart, quick, and brave. You have motive the others don’t—and you’d move mountains to save Rae Ann’s father, if I get into trouble out there.”

  To Nick’s surprise, the words rang true. Corey really was a man, now, and a good one—and his direct gaze, his unflinching, serious expression proved it more than anything else. Nick paused only a couple of heartbeats before nodding once, curtly. “Yes. Rae Ann is here, and here is no longer safe. Not as long as Gary has a bandit boss to hand him an army.”

  Corey gazed deep into Nick’s eyes, but what Nick saw in them left him no doubt what Corey’s answer would be, despite his fear or misgivings. He took a deep breath, then replied, “Fine. Let’s do it. For Rae Ann, for Emma, for all of us.”

  Good boy! No. Good man…“Right. Then, we’ll leave at first light.”

  “I’d better pack, then. Don’t worry, Dad. I got this. I got your back, just like you had Rae’s. I watched you run into a gunfight to rescue her. I’d be proud to help you now.”

  Nick nodded, and forced a joyless, wan smile. No joy—only pride. His son really had become a man, even if deep down, Nick knew he had never been a good enough father. The boy had his mother in him, that was certain, and wherever her spirit was, Nick hoped she was looking down on her son. She would have felt the same pride he did, at that moment.

  Pacing the length of his small confinement, a glorified closet with steel sheets welded over the walls, floor, and ceiling—and cold as hell, at night—Danny wiped his palms on his jeans once again. The colder air did little to help. Anger…At himself, for coming. At Black and Gary for forcing his hand, making him leave everything and everyone he cared about. Even at his parents, for instilling a damn moral compass in him when he was young. If he’d just sat by and let evil win, he wouldn’t have been stuck in that cell, ignored by the very people he’d come to warn. He wouldn’t have been worried about Misty, stuck back home enamored by the wolf in sheep’s clothing; no, he’d have been there where he could have tried to protect her, worked on opening her eyes.

  He clenched his fists and let out an audible growl, only half aware that he’d even done so, and the pace of his steps increased. “Damn this cell, and damn them for sticking me in here.”

  He stopped, took a deep breath, and slowly forced his hands to open. He wasn’t helping anyone by dwelling on it, least of all himself. Sooner or later, someone would come for him, to question him some more, or free him, or maybe to put him down for good. After what he’d done to his partner, during his escape, he could hardly say he didn’t deserve that fate, but if he could escape that outcome, he would—if only to finish his mission. Nothing would save Misty and his friends and neighbors back home like Black’s death.

  He sat on the floor, on his mattress, and closed his eyes. He counted to ten…over and over again. Gradually, he felt his pulse slow, and the ember burning in his gut died down a bit. But only a bit.

  A brief rustling at the door told Danny someone was coming in. He braced himself, preparing mentally for whatever was about to happen, and fought to put a passive expression on.

  When the door opened moments later, he recognized the woman, Brooke, of course. For her, he spared a wan smile. Her companion, though, was Abram, just some man from some other survivors’ group. “Hello, Brooke. What’s new?”

  Her lips flatlined. “You being here, for one. Never mind how you got here. I want to hear it from you directly. Tell me, why did you come here? You couldn’t have known I was here, so don’t even try to hand me a load of B.S. about telling me about Dad.”

  Danny caught himself holding his breath. “You can’t really think so low of me, can you? Listen, and think. Would I give up my entire life back home to warn these people, just to lie to you? About something like that? Never. But you have to listen to me, Black’s evil. He’s not going to rest with just this tribute he’s demanding. One chicken today will be five tomorrow, and it’ll be all of them the day after that.”

  The other man said, “Danny, you didn’t answer her question. Why did you give up everything to warn strangers? Why would you endanger your loved ones back home, if Black is as bad as you say he is?”

  Danny kept his eyes locked onto Brooke’s. “It was the right thing to do. And, if Burnsville can weaken Black by resisting, that saves other communities from going through what I think happened at Nettletown. The fact that weakening Black could give Clarks Crossing a chance to be rid of him also played into my decision. I can best help the people I love back home by getting rid of the monster in Wyatt’s office.”

  Brooke considered him for a long while, the seconds stretching away in an uncomfortable si
lence, but Danny fought to keep his eyes up, not down. It wasn’t easy—she’d never looked at him like that before. Was she measuring him as a person? Judging his honesty? Probably. But dammit, he was telling the truth. The sky really was falling, but no one was listening to Chicken Little…

  At last, she nodded. “Yeah. I believe you, Danny. My daddy trusted you. I trust you, too. I never did take you for a fool, so you being here, you had reasons. And I don’t think you could fool me, if you were trying to score points with that guy. But what did you hope to get, by coming here? How can we resist him, if he has all the folks back home following him and armed? Clarks Crossing is bunches bigger than Burnsville.”

  Ah, there it was. The fear, the self-preservation instinct. But people weren’t animals. People could out-think their instincts, if they wanted to. If the price of fear was high enough.

  He said, “Fight back. Don’t let him see you coming—just hit him when he’s not looking. Win or lose, if you can hurt him enough, he can’t go on to slaughter other towns like Nettletown. And you can avenge your father while doing it. But I don’t think you have to fight all of Clarks Crossing at once. Block off the railways—he’s got trains and can just roll into town with his full force. Make him spread out, so you aren’t fighting them all at once. Trick him into thinking you’re in two places at once. And hit him where it hurts—his support base. Weaken that, you weaken him. You draw the fight out long enough, I know our people. They’re good people. They aren’t going to stand around and let all their friends die just because Black says to.”

  The one named Abram cocked his head and said, “He has trains?”

  “Yeah. He had me reviewing all the tracks and overseeing getting his trains running. He has two I think that will work, given some parts he could get off other trains. And he had one that was covered up—and no one was allowed near it. He’d hidden it, so most didn’t even know about it, but with my job, I found out. I don’t know what it was, but it had to be something important. And to a man like that, only something that he thought made him stronger would matter. So, I guarantee you, it isn’t a train full of canned food, or jeans, or anything like that. It has to be an armory, or something worse. Stop the trains from getting here, you take that strength from him.”