Surviving The Collapse Super Boxset: EMP Post Apocalyptic Fiction

by J. S. Donovan

  Harper slid her fingers out from his grip. “This whole… thing. It doesn’t change anything between us.”

  “Harper,” he begged. “Can’t I at least explain--”

  “No,” she cut him off and planted herself beside her son. She heard plastic thump as James kicked a detached bumper.

  “Is Dad okay?” Eli asked.

  “Yeah.” Harper put her arm around his shoulders. “How about you?”

  Eli shrugged. Harper gave a sympathetic smile. She silently grieved, knowing that he had been in an explosion and seen all that death. She prayed it wouldn’t scar his precious mind but deep down knew that was wishful thinking. My boy… My poor boy.

  As she walked, Harper turned to her reflection in the window of a crashed sedan. Her auburn hair was disheveled, and soot smeared her cheek. A crushing feeling of failure made her heart ache as she thought of her son. Something in the reflection caused her to squint. Is that…? Her emerald eyes shot open. “Get down!”

  Harper dragged Eli and herself to the concrete. The deafening sound of gunfire filled the air. Glass rained down on her and her son as the bullet shattered the car’s window. James dropped prone, cursing as more blood soaked through his bandage. Keeping Eli’s head down, Harper peeked up. In a spray of death, bullets blew over her head and drilled into the metal door of the car beside her. She remembered her training and tried to calm her breathing. Her ribs burned with every compression.

  “Harper!” Crawling on his elbows, James struggled to cross between cars. Bullets hit the concrete in front of him. He pressed himself against a van and guarded his face with his arms.

  Knocking her knees and palms on the coarse road, Harper scurried to the front bumper of the four-door car beside her.

  “How many?” James shouted out, not moving from his current cover.

  “I don’t know.” Harper’s eyes darted back and forth--she could only see the stream of dead cars that filled the connecting roads. She recalled the shiny barrel that originally warned her, but now she didn’t even see that. Red car, she repeated to herself. There were multiple.

  Up ahead, a couple ran for cover. Holes passed through the female’s blouse and capris, sending her tumbling to the ground like a drunken mess. The man took one to the neck and smacked his back against a car. He slid down the driver’s-side door, gargling.

  “Stay here,” she commanded Eli. Staying low, she rushed to the next car. Bullets busted the windows and pierced a tire. She took a breath and ran to the nearest adjacent one. She could feel the air break around her as she barely avoided more metal kisses of death. The man continued gargling. His hands were flopping on the concrete. The whites of his eyes shone as he struggled to communicate with the sergeant.

  She crawled to him. “Hold on.”

  His body spasmed as more bullets drilled into his chest and head. A flash of anger struck Harper. She dashed back and peered over the top of the car, spotting the gunman’s barrel. “One’s on the roof!” she yelled back to James and Eli.

  James attempted to trek to the next vehicle. A spray of bullets deterred him. In frustration, he brought the bottom of his fist against the car he covered behind. “The other one’s to my left--I mean my nine!”

  Fumbling, Eli moved to the next cover closer to his mother.

  “Stay still!” James barked.

  Harper snapped off a damaged side-view mirror and used it to spot the gunman’s barrel angled over the roof’s peak. “James, Eli. You need to keep moving!”

  “What?” James shouted back.

  Harper scanned the junked cars and remembered the shooter’s location. If I can get to Lincoln… The intersection wasn’t far. “On me!”

  “Harper!”

  “Now!”

  Staying low, Harper darted to the closest cover. As she had planned, the gunfire followed her. She went to the next vehicle. Glass showered her skin, but she didn’t stop. Another car. A colorful blur. It seemed as if she blinked and instantly teleported to the end of the next intersection, far from the gunfire. She patted her body, checking for any wounds. Nothing new. Thank God. A stabbing pain. She lurched over, clenching her bruised lower rib. She forced herself to move. A green street sign: Lincoln. She looked back at the street. Eli bobbed in and out of the array of cars.

  Out of breath, he landed in front of Harper. She embraced him with a hug. The gunfire echoed down the street as James army-crawled his way to them. Within half a minute, he had arrived.

  “Thanks for waiting up,” he said, catching his breath.

  “Someone had to draw the fire,” Harper replied with a dry mouth. Her heart wouldn’t stop pounding. She shambled forward. She felt as if she had dived headlong into a trash compactor. Eli and James followed her lead, using the doors of cars to steady themselves. They were all feeling the journey. Harper wondered how her unit was holding up. It had been hours since they separated. They were trained, capable young men. Still, Harper’s mind went to dark places.

  In an attempt to wipe sweat from his forehead, the top of James’s hand only smeared the grime. “Do you have any idea who those guys were?”

  Harper did a final scan of the flat rooftops and cluttered road. “I have my ideas.”

  7

  Rendezvous

  A cloud of dust and debris accumulated down the straight road. The Murphys traded wide-eyed glances. They moved to the edge of the street, crouching behind a blue pickup. A low hum echoed down the interstate.

  “Is that a…” James silenced himself.

  Harper didn’t contain her grin as she watched the armored vehicle burst through the stirring debris and roar toward her. For the first time in forever, Harper felt a ping of hope. She revealed herself from her hiding place, but by the way the army Humvee moved, the driver was on a mission. The soldier manning the gunner station met her with a look of determination.

  Wearing similar uniforms but having unfamiliar faces, the men inside gave Harper curt nods as they drove on. Their solemn expressions grew ever colder the farther they went into the smoking city. Harper’s gaze followed them as they faded from sight. James and Eli walked out to the street’s middle and stopped next to her. The sweat from the midday sun turned the powdery dirt and grime into moist, black smudges on their hairy arms and worn-out faces.

  “Maybe a stupid question,” Eli started. “But I thought the EMP fried everything.”

  “Not the military-grade Hummers. They’re built to last. Only our computers and other electronics took the hit. Cars from pre-1980 are the same way.” Harper beamed with newfound vigor.

  “See, son.” James smiled. “This is what happens when you read army manuals for fun.”

  Harper ignored the joke. “Let’s move.”

  And they did.

  The heart of DC was miles behind them, but confusion and dismay were far from absent. Hordes of people hiked through the streets like a neighborhood watch on steroids. They balanced baseball bats on their shoulders and kept a finger on their Tasers’ triggers, opposing any and all roguish individuals that robbed houses and mugged innocent people in the open air. Harper and her family steered clear of conflict, sneaking around solitary buildings and finding hiding places behind large trucks and other crashed automobiles. The trek up Interstate 1 left them breathless, but they pushed on.

  The sun was whipping them when they finally reached the Riverdale Reserve Center. The rectangular redbrick building wasn’t much of a sight, but it invoked a torrent of feelings and memories in Harper’s brain. From the rigorous PT training she practiced once a month, to the laughs shared across the cafeteria table, Harper forcefully stifled joyous tears and a yelp. She smiled back at Eli and James. “We made it.”

  Suburban homes ran opposite of the not-so-unassuming army installation. Armed, Private Beeman and Corporal Heidecker stood sentry outside the reserve center’s large doors. With rolled-up sleeves and backup guns, the soldiers funneled hordes of camped pedestrians into four medical tents, staked firmly in the front lawn. The orderly
bustle filled the air as the army kept two steady lines of civilians pouring in and out of every tent, one line for the injured and the other for the treated. Compared to Harper’s home center, this was mastery of army ingenuity. Everything followed seamlessly. The local people moved without complaint, and the soldiers’ guns frightened away any troublemakers. Harper, James, and Eli pressed through the middle mass, Eli holding his makeshift sling with a grimace and James with a look of intimidation and respect.

  Wind flapped the canvas of the tent as they passed. Soldiers within fetched bandages from a medical crate and dressed the wounds of those entering. Others encouraged them to find rest at home and sent them on their way.

  “Sergeant Murphy?” Heidecker shouted as Harper pushed her way through the growing crowd. Another packed Humvee pulled out from the back of the center and zoomed down the road, zigzagging through the jumbled cars and motorcycles on the street. A trail of dust followed the active car and left many of the onlookers longing, Harper among them.

  “We’ve got a lot of you that need caring for! Keep up the pace,” Corporal Heidecker ordered the crowd. A few grumbled, but they all straightened up their lines. A few families dispersed to the sidewalk, planting themselves on the curb and pulling out lunch sandwiches.

  “Good to see you, Sergeant.” Heidecker shielded the sun with a tan hand, and his grin turned the thin mustache that ran the length of his upper lip into a wiggly black worm. “Your platoon arrived an hour back. McCulloch’s been expecting you.”

  “Very good. Did he make mention of my son?”

  “Yes. Said the boy could come right in. I got to say that I’m a bit jealous. They’ve got him a fresh uniform and everything.”

  “Unfortunately what he needs now is a proper cast and some painkillers.” Harper ignored her own pain. She wasn’t sure how obvious it was by the way she held her lower rib. “My husband, as well.”

  Heidecker stammered, “McCulloch didn’t say anything about your husband. Don’t get me wrong, Sergeant. If it were up to me…”

  Harper fidgeted. “Both of them were injured in a bombing. The whole city has turned upside down, so normal hospitalization is out of the question. You’ve got to help here.”

  The gears in Heidecker’s head turned. “You and the boy can enter, but your husband has to stay.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” complained James.

  “Orders are orders,” Heidecker said. “Beeman, unlock the door.”

  The young private released the lock.

  “Perfect,” James mumbled, locking his fingers behind his head. “Absolutely perfect.”

  “Corporal,” Harper glared at him.

  Corporal Heidecker set his jaw for a moment then replied, “Yes, Sergeant. Beeman, let them in.”

  “Thank you,” Harper said as she moved past, followed by Eli and James.

  “You owe me one, Harper,” she heard him say as the door closed.

  The interior of the reserve center was dimly lit and humid. The setup was similar to the one Harper experienced at her center--hand-cranked lanterns cast fans of light up the walls, and soldiers bustled between rooms, moving crates and taking orders. James found it troublesome to stay out of the way of these rushing soldiers, almost getting knocked over by one. Faces familiar and foreign turned curious gazes to Harper, James, and their son. They don’t like me, Harper thought. My family is safe in the confines of these walls, and theirs are out in the dangers of the city. She wished she could get them all in.

  “Thanks for not leaving me out there,” James said, ending her train of thought.

  “Why would I do that?” Harper kept watching the familiar faces, giving them nods as they passed.

  “I don’t know. Orders.” He scuffed his shoe against the tile floor.

  “I’m their NCO. I’ll take it up with McCulloch when he arrives.”

  “Sergeant.” Commander McCulloch’s baritone voice sounded beside her. The horrid lighting conditions shadowed his face in a sinister manner and caught the shine of his round bald head. His silver eyes penetrated James before he could speak.

  Eli groaned in pain. A grimace scrunched his long face.

  “Take your father and go to the med bay. I’ll meet up with you soon.”

  They nodded and headed down the hall.

  McCulloch led Harper into a small office that was attached to the main hall. The CO inside stood at attention. McCulloch quickly demanded he leave before taking a seat in the rolling chair behind the desk. His brows arched downward. “Sit.”

  Harper lowered herself into an opposite chair. She found it hard to look the intimidating man in the eyes. The leather cushion felt as if it were sucking her into the black seat.

  McCulloch’s finger tapped on the wood. His silver eyes were unreadable. Harper fidgeted. She braced herself for the incoming tsunami of disapproval. “I’m not here to scold you, Sergeant. You are one of the best I’ve got. You keep your men in line and continually foster a mentality of respect and loyalty. That can’t be said for everyone. DC is a war zone. Extenuating circumstances caused you to get separated from your unit. End of story. It’s time to find a way to save this city.”

  The soft whisper of the hand-cranked lanterns enveloped the dark room. It felt as if a ten-ton weight had been lifted from her. “I couldn’t agree more, Commander. I’m here now and ready to get started.”

  A small smile creeped up the commander’s hard face. “I thought you’d say that. Fill me in on what you saw out there. Spare no detail.”

  By the end of it, Harper’s body was aching from head to toe and McCulloch’s jaw hung slightly ajar.

  “My lord. Trampled and being shot at all in the same day? You’ve been busy, Sergeant.”

  Harper nodded, feeling awkwardly proud. “It’s not over yet.” She winced. Now that she’d stopped moving, the pain had caught up with her. “What can you tell me about your end?”

  McCulloch adjusted his posture. “We’re fighting against the clock. Intel came in from Lieutenant Grant that the enemy--identity still unknown--has a strong grip on certain corridors of the city. Shooting into crowds of people, causing house fires. You name it, they’re doing it. Some of them are more subtle beasts, stirring up the populace against local authorities. Moreover, it’s believed they’ve been hitting our guys, snagging their equipment and vehicles.”

  “Jesus. Do we know their endgame?”

  McCulloch grunted. “I have multiple sources looking into it. So far, we’re in the dark.”

  “What can I do?”

  A knock rattled the door. A commanding officer peered inside, urgency on his face. “Sir, an envoy from the National Guard has arrived.” His look turned sober. “He’s requested you by name.”

  “Thank you.” The commander lifted himself from his seat. “Sergeant, get yourself looked at. I’ll be by shortly.”

  “Yes, sir,” Harper replied and left the room. The reporting CO closed the door to the office. In the busy hallway, Harper rested her back against the wall. She clenched her eyes to snuff the pain-induced tears. The nostrils of her sharp nose flared as she forced every step. Spikes of pain shot up her legs as her boots met the concrete. She could feel herself collapsing and sent her weight to a cool wall, balancing herself.

  A few worried privates exchanged looks and headed her way. Harper waved them off. She forced herself to move until she felt ill from agony. Clenching her lower rib, she pushed open the infirmary door. Like the rest of the dark base, the room was devoid of light apart from the artificial kind that rested on a table. The room was intended for those injured during PT, so there were only half a dozen cots, which ran in an L shape across the back and side wall. A uniformed man was finishing up Eli’s arm cast. By her son’s funny look, Harper could tell that the pain medications had kicked in. She rested herself in the doorframe, catching her breath.

  “Harper?” James jolted from his bed, shocking another medic, and limped to his wife. He took her hand and led her to the nearest bed. Delic
ately, she sat and twisted her legs onto the mattress.

  “I’ll make sure they look at you next,” James said and returned to his cot.

  Time inched by as they examined Harper. Without an x-ray, there was no telling if her rib was broken, fractured, or just bruised. They guessed the latter mainly because Harper had pushed on this far. She gave credit to adrenaline. They offered some powerful pain pills, but Harper only took one. She needed to stay alert for whatever McCulloch had in store for her. James had new stitches and a bandage around his leg. Eli was fitted for an arm cast and proper sling. With the heat, Harper was reluctant to put on her ACU jacket, but she slipped it on.

  “It feels good to rest,” James said, eyes to the ceiling and hands between his pillow and his head.

  “Uh-huh.” Harper closed her eyes. The medication hit harder than she had expected, and her body felt weightless.

  “Are we ever going to go back home?” Eli asked bluntly.

  “Right now, our goal should be getting out of the city.” James rolled to his side. Harper could feel his eyes on her.

  “Sounds like it’s going to be a pretty shitty vacation.”

  “Language,” James retorted.

  “I’m sixteen.”

  “Rest up while you can. The night’s still young.” Harper pulled up her covers. It felt good to free her toes from her boots and to have a nice pillow behind her neck. She felt her reality slipping away. Sleep beckoned her, and she welcomed it. All she needed was a moment.

  A door opened with a creak. She heard the clamor of boots clacking from the halls from wall to wall.

  “Sergeant Murphy,” her commander called.

  Harper’s eyes shot open before she could dream. Time to repay her debt. No rest for the wicked.

  8

  Homebound

  Dressed in gray urban camo and with his hands folded neatly behind his back, the tall man led Harper, McCulloch, and Riverdale’s Commander Sheen through the packed halls. The soldiers of the reserve center were a machine that curved around them in a chaotic fashion but always seemed to leave an opening for the commanding officers and Harper. Dozens of soldiers separated into squads of twelve, while others marched out the front door. Lieutenants and other commanding officers shouted orders and kept the troops moving at a pace of what seemed like 180 miles per hour. The man led Harper and the others in the opposite direction.