Surviving The Collapse Super Boxset: EMP Post Apocalyptic Fiction

by J. S. Donovan

  Burke grabbed some of the towels from her without saying anything and wet them at the sink. Angela stepped carefully around the red puddle on the tiled floor and tried her best to stop the bleeding by tying one towel around his arm. Omar winced and jerked his bloodied arm away.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “I’m just trying to stop the bleeding.”

  Omar dropped his arm to the side out of pure exhaustion as his breathing slowed and his eyelids got heavier. Burke suddenly approached and lightly slapped Omar in his face. “It’s not naptime yet, pal.”

  He then handed Angela the wet towels as she continued her work, dabbing his open wounds while soaking the towels with blood in the process. She was lucky to have grabbed so many. Omar moaned, seemingly delirious. Whether it was an act or not, Angela didn’t know. However, she didn’t think that the extent of Burke’s torture was necessary. Omar was no good to them dead, and his faint whimpering and drooping eyes indicated that he was fading fast. How long could he last without medical attention?

  Burke stepped around one of the bodies in the dining room and began tossing around the empty pizza boxes on the table and found a pen. He then walked into the kitchen and casually leaned against the counter, holding a pocket-sized notebook.

  “Let’s start at the start, Omar. Where are the girls being held?”

  Omar raised his head slightly and nodded as his eyes began to shut. Angela had cleaned up a lot of his blood and destroyed many towels in the process. She began wrapping some clean ones around his leg to control the bleeding, while trying to pay attention to what they were saying.

  Suddenly, Burke stomped on the floor with his black boot, shocking them both.

  Omar’s head shot up as Angela froze and turned only to find an enraged Burke inches away.

  “Don’t fuck with me, Omar. You think you’re going to sleep your way out of this?” He spun around to the kitchen and grabbed the carving knife, holding it up and ready to use it again.

  “No!” Angela said. “Give him a moment to speak.” She didn’t want to see all the work she had done cleaning him up wasted, and she didn’t want to see him hurt again.

  “Don’t fall for his tricks,” Burke responded. “We’ll end up right back at square one.”

  Angela looked up at Omar, whose eyes were open and his face much more alert than before. She slowly rose to her feet and backed away. Was Omar trying to play them?

  “Just tell us where they are,” she said, placing a hand over one of the towels wrapped around his leg. Omar clenched his teeth in pain, and for a moment, Angela felt a satisfying sense of power. She squeezed above his knee cap, just barely, and Omar cried out and began to violently cough.

  “Easy there, killer,” Burke said from behind them.

  Angela backed away again, not knowing what had gotten into her.

  Omar breathed heavily for a moment, appearing as though he was reeling from the pain. He looked up as Burke stared back, waiting for him to begin.

  “There’s a place. An underground compound. About two hours from here. That’s where they took the family.”

  Burke scribbled, nodding. “An underground compound? Got it. Where is it?”

  “El Paso,” Omar replied. “But like I said, they never stay anywhere for too long, especially with hostages.”

  “El Paso’s a big place,” Burke said. “I need specifics. Coordinates.”

  Omar shook his head. “I’ve only been there once and didn’t drive.” He tilted his head toward the body lying in the dining room. “Marid drove that time. And you killed him.”

  “Tragic,” Burke said. “But that doesn’t get you off the hook.” He then lowered his notebook and approached Omar with his chest out and muscles flexed.

  “I don’t remember!” Omar shouted.

  Before he could say another word, Burke’s gloved hand clutched his neck, squeezing.

  Angela felt the need to intervene again and stepped behind Omar with her hands on his shoulders. “Let him speak! I’m sure it will come to him.”

  Burke looked up, amused, and released his tight grip. Omar gasped and coughed.

  “Certainly, Agent Gannon. Let’s just wait here all night until it comes to Omar in a dream.”

  “That’s not what I mean,” Angela said. “Just don’t be so quick to attack him.”

  Omar’s eyes shifted between the two sparring Americans, ready to tell them more. “I can’t tell you for sure where the compound is…” Omar paused, catching his breath again. “But I can give you the address of a man who may know.”

  Burke shook his head in disapproval. “We’re not going on some wild goose chase. You get us to the compound, or I’ll carve you up like a Christmas ham.”

  “He’s British and has been to the compound many times. He knows far more than I.”

  “Bullshit,” Burke said. “Trying to pass the buck onto someone else? Not going for it.”

  Angela stepped forward, feeling an intense revelation. “Wait a minute. A British man?” She walked closer to Burke and spoke softly. “That man in the first video… he had a British accent. You heard this, as did I.”

  Burke paused, thinking to himself. “Yes. I recall a British man.” He then shoved a finger into Omar’s chest. “But how do we know this lump of shit isn’t leading us into a trap?”

  Angela scoffed, surprised at the scorn in her voice. “Either you trust him to get us to this underground compound or to this British man’s house. Which is it?”

  Burke turned straight to Angela, grabbed her by the arm, and led her into the dining room while Omar looked away in fear.

  Angela jerked her arm away with a fierce glare. Unrelenting, Burke got within inches of her face. “May I remind you of who ISIS is and what they do?” He held up his hand and began counting off his fingers. “They stone, behead, and rape women. They commit genocide, burn men and women alive. They kill and enslave children. And that’s just for starters. Anyone fucked up enough to join that cause gets no sympathy from me. And they shouldn’t get any from you either.”

  Angela backed away, seeming more offended than before. She tried to keep her voice down, but anger and fatigue had gotten the best of her. “Those butchers killed my husband and are holding my daughters prisoner. And you think I have sympathy for them?”

  Burke relented, holding a hand above his chest, urging her to calm. “I’m not saying that. I told you from the get-go, I work solo. I’ve taken you on out of respect for your situation and, I must admit, from my failure to rescue your family the first time. But if you want them back, I’m only going to say this once… stay out of my lane.”

  Angela said no more as the air conditioner kicked on overhead and began to hum throughout the house. Burke walked away from her and continued his questioning of Omar.

  “The British man knows. He’s the eyes and ears of the Texas sleeper cells.”

  Burke remained unconvinced. “That’s great to know. Now tell me where the compound is.”

  A faint police siren suddenly sounded in the distance. Angela perked her head up and froze, noticing that she was standing over the dead body of the young man in the tank top. The severity of what they had done had just begun to come over her, and the sirens were only getting louder.

  Burke noticed too and listened carefully, pausing in his questioning, his arms at his sides. For a moment, everyone was still and quiet, emotions flowing through them all.

  “Someone must have called the police,” Angela said in a panicked tone.

  Burke knelt down and clutched Omar again by his throat. “Anyone else in this house that we don’t know about?”

  “It was probably one of the neighbors,” Angela said. “We need to get out of here.”

  With one hand gripping Omar’s neck, Burke pointed at her. “What did I tell you?”

  From there, the sirens only grew louder, and Angela felt that they were quickly running out of time. Burke released Omar with a hard push that set off another round of hacking. For a moment, he seemed to c
oncede that Omar’s house was no longer any place to be. He turned and looked past Angela to the bodies in the dining room and hallway beyond.

  “I don’t get it,” Burke said. “Why would their sirens be on?”

  “Because they must be pretty damn serious,” Angela said.

  He pulled a knife from a sheath at his side, leaned over Omar, and cut the rope binding his wrists to the chair.

  “Come on, hot shot. You’re coming with us.” He pulled Omar up only to receive an earful of agonized screaming in return.

  “I can’t walk!” Omar shouted. “Put me down.”

  To test his theory, Burke released Omar, who plummeted to the floor like a bag of potatoes. Angela ran forward and knelt next to Omar, trying to help him up.

  “We’re going to need to carry him,” she said. She looked up frantically, noticing that Burke didn’t look ready to lift a finger. “Come on!”

  The sirens sounded as though they were down the street and closing in fast. Burke sighed and knelt, lifting Omar up under his arms.

  “We should just shoot him and be done with it,” he said, grunting. “He’s only going to slow us down.”

  “Just do it, then!” Omar shouted. “I’m as good as dead anyway. Free me from this pain and send me to Allah.”

  “No!” Angela said, helping Omar balance. “We need him, and he’s not getting off that easy.”

  Burke gazed at her in agreement. “Now you’re talking.”

  They had little time left for conversation. Angela held one side of Omar as Burke reluctantly held the other. They shuffled forward awkwardly and attempted to keep him on his feet, but the slightest movement of his legs caused Omar to shudder and wince.

  “Suck it up and keep moving,” Burke said. It was clear that Omar wouldn’t get any sympathy. “You slow us down any more, I’ll leave you with the cops—balls cut off and shoved down your throat.”

  As they stumbled toward the front door, ready to make an exit, Angela found herself disgusted by Burke’s threat. But it seemed to work, as Omar started to maintain balance on his own trembling legs, taking much of the weight off Angela’s shoulder.

  Burke kicked the door open, and they moved out into the darkness, the sirens louder than before and their lights flashing a few blocks over. They continued down the driveway and inched out onto the street, and Angela began to wonder if the police cars in the distance had anything to do with them after all. There seemed to be no neighbors gawking at them from outside or from their windows. Perhaps it was a false alarm.

  As fast as they could, because they were at their most visible and vulnerable, they crossed the street and with their strength fading, headed into the cover of shadows and began the brief trek back to the empty lot a few houses down, where Burke’s car was hidden. From her corner of her eye, Angela could see it: headlights traveling toward them from the opposite direction, followed by the flicker of flashing red and blue. The sirens had stopped blaring, replaced by the roar of multiple engines quickly gaining from behind.

  “Move faster!” Burke said to Omar. “Or my offer still stands.”

  As they reached the lot, Burke threw Omar ahead, sending him rolling through the sand of the empty lot. The car was in sight, but they weren’t yet in the clear. With so many bodies in the house, the police were certain to do a massive search of the area. Helicopters would be deployed, checkpoints placed for miles, and any chance of escape would be next to impossible.

  Omar wept as he lay on his side in a ball, a cloud of dust rising above him.

  As she ran to the passenger’s side of the car, Angela was too focused on escape to object to Burke’s methods. She said nothing as Burke stuffed a sock in Omar’s mouth and tied him at the wrists and legs with some nylon rope. He stood up and pressed the trunk button on his keychain, popping it open.

  He ran to the trunk, took out the carrying cases containing his other weapons, and placed them in the backseat. He then called out to Angela as she opened her door. “Hey, I need your help.”

  She stopped and looked over the car roof, bewildered. “You’re putting him in the trunk?”

  “No, I’m going to let him drive. Of course I’m putting him in the trunk. Come over here and give me a hand.”

  Tires screeched from down the street as multiple police cars surrounded Omar’s house, shining their spotlights around the chipped and faded exterior. They both rushed to Omar as he tried hopelessly to scramble away. Angela grabbed his legs, and Burke took the arms. They carried Omar off like a piece of furniture as he squirmed in their grip, and tossed him in the trunk, closing it shut.

  With little time to spare, they ran to the front and jumped inside the car, closing their doors in unison. Burke carefully turned the ignition and shifted into drive. He left his headlights off and eased onto the street, which now had the look of a major crime scene with its wild, flashing lights to their left.

  “Just doesn’t make sense,” Burke said, tapping the gas. “Where did they all come from? Someone is messing with us.” He glanced at the crime scene in his rearview mirror as Angela sunk into her seat with her eyes plastered on the side mirror.

  “What are you saying?” she asked.

  “There are no coincidences,” he said. “Next stop we make, I’m doing a full car check. See if this car has been bugged.”

  Once a safe distance from the house, several turns and blocks away, Burke stepped on the gas and stormed out of the neighborhood toward the nearest interstate. El Paso 154 miles, a sign said.

  Brimming with nervousness and anxiety, Angela had never felt closer to finding her children.

  They blended in with other night traffic, seemingly indistinguishable from the other vehicles on the road—people who, like them, were just trying to get somewhere. Angela’s concern materialized when she saw helicopters flying in the far distance. The tiny lights in the sky grew fainter, and Angela breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully they were in the clear.

  Burke turned to look at her, not saying a word. Then his eyes went back to the road. She looked down and realized she had blood all over her arms and shirt. There was no turning back now.

  Suddenly a great pounding came from behind the back seat, loud and unrelenting. It came in intervals of five to six thumps followed by kicking. How Omar was moving at all, Angela didn’t know. There was no getting out of that trunk, and for the next few miles she tried not to care.

  10

  Executioner

  After twenty minutes on Interstate 10, they took an exit that led to an empty underpass on the edge of a lake far removed from city lights and normal flow of traffic. Burke claimed he knew of the lake and how “peaceful” it was.

  “You’ve been out this way before?” Angela asked.

  “Some time ago on assignment,” he said. He turned off the ignition and brought a hand down his face. “Must have been ten, fifteen years ago. Place hasn’t changed a bit.”

  The area, as described, was isolated. The shallow-looking lake reflected the white of the moon in its center and was surrounded by a circular mountain ridge that seemed to encompass the lake like a stadium. Framing the lake were low-lying shrubs and leafless trees with branches extended like the arms of skeletons. Everything seemed undisturbed, eerie almost, and it was the perfect spot, Burke explained, where they could regroup and strategize.

  The banging from the trunk had ceased, and Angela could only assume that Omar had tired and given up. Regardless, she didn’t consider it wise to keep him in the trunk any longer than necessary. He still had information that he hadn’t fully disclosed.

  “You think it’s about time we let him out?” she asked Burke, eyes transfixed on the glimmering lake. His gloved hands gripped the wheel, and she could see that he, like her, had plenty of blood on his arms and clothing too.

  “In a moment,” he said. “First, I’m going to search the car for a bug or tracker.”

  “Okay…” Angela said with a hint of uncertainty.

  The car stereo clock had read 11:
10, and they still had more than a hundred miles to travel. The longer they were stopped, the more Angela began to think about home and all the people she needed to call. She also knew that she could never return to a normal life—how could anyone? But none of it would matter once she got the children back. She vowed to start anew somewhere else, where no one could harm them again.

  “Back there was a little messy, I admit that,” Burke said, reverting to the calm boardroom tone she had grown accustomed to from their first meeting. “I’ve been out of the game for a while, and I didn’t mean to snap at you or come off as… I don’t know, unhinged.”

  Angela nodded in understanding. The experience had been unpleasant, but she was just glad that it was over—for now. “I have to admit, I was really kind of shaken, but… you warned me. You wanted to go it alone, and I insisted on coming along.” She turned to him, noticing some embedded pain in his emotionless face. His eyes remained forward in deep thought as she continued. “I just want to add that there’s no hard feelings. You’re trying your best, and that’s all I can ask for.”

  Burke’s mouth suddenly curled upward in a brief smile. “Sheesh. Talking to me like I’m a child and not a murderer.”

  “No…” she began, not wanting to say anything more.

  “Relax. I’m just kidding,” he said, loosening his grip on the steering wheel. “I do appreciate you sticking with me. And trust me, I know how you feel.” He paused and then pulled back the Velcro on his gloves, tossing them on the dashboard.

  The night sky seemed to go on forever, and for a moment everything seemed to be at peace. But Angela knew better. Things were most likely to get far worse before they got better.

  The silence between them ended as Burke took a deep breath and continued. “‘Bout five years ago, I lived in Germany with my family. Stationed in Heidelberg on assignment with the CIA. Officially as part of a diplomatic NATO mission. Only we weren’t there to shake hands and go to meetings, we were there to find terrorists. Specifically members of the Ad al Hakim family who were supporting Al Qaeda at the time. Our intel told us they were actively working to create sleeper cells throughout Europe.”