Surviving The Collapse Super Boxset: EMP Post Apocalyptic Fiction

by J. S. Donovan

  “There's a first aid kit at the relay station. Inside, there should be a scorpion antidote that we can give her,” Brooke said.

  “But what if it wasn't a scorpion that stung her?”

  “We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  The last few drops of gas emptied into the cruiser, and Brooke tossed the empty can into the back with the rest of her gear.

  John climbed into the back seat with his sister, holding her steady while the cruiser bounced along the desert dunes and brush, kicking up sand behind them.

  It took them only ten minutes to get to the station by car. Brooke wove in and out of the solar cells, narrowly missing a few that could have wiped them out. She slammed on the brakes, and the cruiser slid forward a few feet through the sand, stopping them right in front of the station's entrance. Brooke ran around to the back and picked Emily up in her arms.

  The lights were still on, which was a good sign that the solar cells were retaining energy. Brooke pointed to one of the desks in the main room.

  “John, clear off that table,” Brooke said.

  In one sweeping motion, John knocked all of the random items off the desk, and they clanged to the floor. Brooke gently set Emily down and ran for the first aid kit she had seen in the back.

  “Keep an eye on her,” Brooke said.

  Brooke flipped the latches open on the first aid kit and sifted through the contents. She pushed aside bandages, creams, and pills until she pulled out the tube of liquid holding the scorpion antivenom. She poured it into a syringe, sprinting back to Emily.

  “Roll up her sleeve,” Brooke said.

  John slid Emily’s sleeve all the way up to her shoulder, and Brooke pierced her daughter's skin with the end of the needle. She pressed down on the syringe, and the medicine entered her daughter's bloodstream.

  “Is it working?” John asked.

  “It'll take some time,” Brooke answered.

  Emily's breathing continued to be labored. Brooke placed the back of her hand on her daughter's forehead.

  “She's burning up,” Brooke said. “John, go grab some water out of the cruiser.”

  John disappeared in a flash, and Brooke bent down and kissed her daughter's head, stroking her hair. She hoped and prayed that it was a scorpion that had stung Emily. If it was something else, she wasn't sure the antidote would work.

  Brooke picked up her daughter's hand, holding it gently between both of her own. John returned, holding a one-gallon water jug in each hand.

  “There's a compress in the first aid kit in the back. Fill it with water and bring it over to me,” Brooke said.

  John nodded. She knew that her son felt guilty about what had happened. As much as he argued with his sister, he still loved her. Brooke knew that keeping him busy was the best way to keep his mind from wandering down paths of distress and blame.

  “Here you go,” John said, extending the compress to her.

  Brooke felt it; it wasn't nearly cold enough to do any good. The water was already hot from the sun beating down on it all afternoon.

  “We need to cool it down. There was a break room somewhere in here with a fridge. I don't know if they took it with them when they left. See if you can find it,” Brooke said.

  “Okay,” John replied.

  The temperature in the building felt like it was going down. The AC was definitely kicking in, which was helpful for her daughter's current condition.

  Emily's muscles spasmed. Her head rocked back and forth on the table. The venom was wreaking havoc on her daughter’s nervous system. It was doing its best to shut her major vital systems down until Emily's heart was too weak to keep beating.

  “Stay with me,” Brooke said.

  The refrigerator hummed loudly, and John tossed the compress inside. He went back to his mother, who was still bent over Emily.

  “Found it,” John said.

  “Good. Why don't you go and grab our gear out of the cruiser?” Brooke asked.

  “Even the water?”

  “Just bring in one more gallon. If we have to get out of here in a hurry, I don't want us to have to worry about loading everything back up.”

  John's shoes sank in the sand as he trudged to the cruiser and opened the rear hatch. Sand fell from the hatch door like a waterfall, dumping the hot granules over the tops of his shoes.

  He placed the gear down inside the station and walked back over to his mom.

  “Now what?” John asked.

  “We wait and see,” Brooke said, not looking at him.

  “How long will it take?”

  “I don't know.”

  “Can I do anything else?”

  John's voice was soft and an octave higher than usual. The pit of his stomach churned, feeling like it was going to turn inside out. He clutched his belly and stared back down at the sand still lingering on his shoes.

  “I'm sorry,” John said.

  “John, this wasn't your fault.”

  “I should have been paying more attention.”

  “John.”

  “I could have warned her if I'd seen it.”

  “John.”

  He felt his mother's warm, rough hands cup his face and pull his head up.

  “I need you to listen to me. This. Is not your fault. Okay?”

  John nodded.

  “This was a freak accident. Nothing more.”

  “Okay.”

  “Now, I need you to watch your sister. Wait a little bit longer before you take the compress out and then keep it on Emily’s forehead. If she wakes up, come and get me”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To try and make a call.”

  The nozzle from the fuel pump clicked to a stop, signaling the cruiser's tank was full. The gas couldn't have been more than a few months old, but she could have been wrong. If the gas was bad, then it would do more harm than good, but it was all she had at the moment.

  The cruiser's engine seemed to run smoothly enough as she drove the vehicle back to the entrance of the station. She peeked inside, checking on Emily before heading around to the rear of the building.

  Since she couldn't find the satellite phone, she would have to find another way to get ahold of her sister. While she didn't mind making the trek across the rest of the desert without any communications, it would ease her worry if she knew what the hell was going on out there.

  Brooke's mind kept going back to the phone call from Eric. She had heard the distress in his voice. She wished she knew what he was saying. She wished she could get in touch with her sister. She wished her daughter wasn't fighting for her life. But the world didn't grant wishes. It only granted action, and right now, she had to find her own answers.

  Next to the tool shed was an old radio post her company had installed when it was building the place. She knew that the equipment hadn't been used in years, and she had no idea if it would work or if the equipment would even still be there.

  Brooke still had the crowbar from earlier, but she didn't need it. The door to the radio post wasn't even locked.

  “Dammit,” Brooke said.

  The place had been cleaned out. She doubted the company had come to collect the outdated radios, so it must have been scavenged by whoever had roamed over here in the past few months.

  The cabinets creaked as Brooke went through them, trying to find anything useful. After taking inventory, she did manage to find an old handheld radio, which didn't turn on, a circuit board tool kit, and a few empty containers she could use for carrying extra fuel. Whoever had robbed the place must not have had any knowledge of what was valuable. The circuit board tool kit was well into the thousand-dollar price range.

  It was not exactly what she was looking for, but the radio might be fixable once she cracked it open and had a look. It wouldn't get much range, but she might be able to listen in on any police broadcasts that were nearby.

  The radio was in pieces and Brooke was hunched over on the floor trying to figure out which of the components
had gone bad. Emily was sound asleep next to her under the cushion of a sleeping bag, but her arms and legs still twitched, still fighting the scorpion venom coursing through her tiny frame.

  John hadn't left Emily’s side the entire time she was recovering. In fact, Brooke hadn't even seen him take his eyes off Emily since she had charged him with watching her.

  A smile crept onto her face. Her favorite moments of her children were when they were together. It made her feel whole, full. It had been her husband's favorite sight, too. When they were younger, Jason would just sit in the kitchen, looking out into the living room, watching them play. She knew he reveled in those moments. It gave him something to hold onto while he was away.

  Brooke hadn’t fully understood that until right then. That force that drove someone forward was different for everyone, but the moment her children had been born was the moment they became her driving force. She had done and would do whatever was necessary to keep the both of them alive. That was the constant in her life.

  God help anything or anyone that tried to hurt them.

  9

  Jones sat outside the Oval Office, waiting to speak with the president. He smiled politely at the staff, and they returned more hesitant grins. He'd been waiting for this moment for a very long time. It was a delicate network he had created, but one that he had complete control over. He knew people disliked him, but he didn't care.

  When he had been a young boy, he was always very sick, so he spent most of his time by himself in his room, reading books. His favorites had been those of the political figures of the past. He admired the way they could sway people with their words.

  Throughout high school, he had developed his talents for speech on the debate team. He channeled all of the pain from the jokes people made at his expense into the ordered forum in which people were forced to listen to him.

  Now, years later, he had the ear of the most powerful man in the world. He was the one who helped the president gain favor with both the House and the Senate. He pulled the strings in this administration, and he delighted in the knowledge that he could end it all with the snap of his fingers.

  People feared him, but that was the way he liked it. He had no need for friendships or likeability, at least not within the walls of government. The only face of gratitude he was forced to keep was for the public.

  That was the one moment he detested more than all the rest. If it were up to him, he would take the people out of the decision-making process. This bill would be the first step toward that. The public didn't care about the matters in Congress. They were all too worried about making sure their own tiny wants and desires were satisfied. Soon their worlds wouldn't matter anyway.

  “Congressman Jones, the president will see you now,” the office aide said.

  “Thank you.”

  The president flipped through the congressman's bill. He made it to the last page and looked to his advisers.

  “Do you really think this is the best course of action?” the president said.

  Joining Jones with the president were his chiefs of staff and the vice president.

  “It's radical, Mr. President, but this will save the rest of the country,” one of the generals said.

  “The army has already been mobilized to the new border, and we've begun removing what resources we had on the west coast,” another general echoed.

  “Congressman Jones has already spoken to the local police commissioners and sheriffs. He's secured their cooperation with agreements for their extraction and a new position in the Northeast,” Vice President Johnson said.

  “Is this true, Raymond?” the president asked.

  “Yes, Mr. President. The process started weeks ago,” Jones answered.

  “That's not exactly legal, Congressman,” the president said.

  “What's best for the country is always legal, sir,” Jones replied.

  The president gave a weary nod. He rose from the chair, and the rest of the room followed suit. He walked to the window.

  “You’re confident the bill will pass in both the House and Senate?” the president asked.

  “It will,” Jones answered.

  “And Colorado will remain with us.”

  “Yes, Mr. President.”

  “The martial law sanctions in Colorado were just for show, Mr. President,” one of the joint chiefs said. “NORAD will still be within our borders.

  The president turned around and leaned forward on the desk. He pointed his index finger into the pages of the bill resting on top of it.

  “If this fails, we won't just have a water crisis on our hands, we'll have another civil war to worry about. Make sure that doesn't happen,” the president said.

  “I won't let you down, sir.”

  When Jones made it back to his office, his chief of staff followed him to his chambers and closed the door behind them.

  “We may have a problem,” Ken said.

  “What is it now?” Jones asked. “The vote is in less than thirty minutes.”

  Ken only had thin wisps of hair left on his head. Jones didn't know why he kept them. They made him look far beyond his age, which was already old.

  “Smith met with a large number of congressmen earlier this afternoon, trying to sway their decision,” Ken said.

  “With whom?”

  “I heard he was able to get Congressman Hunter from North Carolina on board,” Ken answered.

  The muscle in Jones's jaw flexed. He clenched his teeth and closed his eyes, trying to control his breathing.

  “I want a list of every person he met with. I don't care what you have to do to get it,” Jones said, picking up the phone on his desk. “Cindy, bring me the files on Congressman Hunter.”

  Daniel flipped through the pages of the bill with Smith. Both of their staff members were anxiously waiting for them to say anything.

  Smith tossed the pages onto the conference room table, and they slid across the glossy surface. Daniel closed the last page and rested the bill in his lap.

  “Good work,” Smith said.

  The entire staff exhaled simultaneously, and Daniel started clapping, with Smith and everyone else joining in. Jake checked his phone and tapped Smith on the shoulder.

  “It's time,” Jake said.

  Daniel and Smith rose from their seats, and the two of them walked down the hallway together. Smith clutched the bill in his hand and patted Daniel on the shoulder.

  “You ready?” Smith asked.

  The sour pit in Daniel's stomach was turning into a hurricane. He could feel beads of sweat forming in his armpits. His left hand shook, but he rubbed the wedding band on his finger to disguise it.

  “I hope so,” Daniel answered.

  The capitol was buzzing. All four hundred thirty-five representatives were present. There was an uneasy foreboding in the air. Everyone knew the true meaning of Jones's bill, but each seemed to be afraid to acknowledge it.

  Congressmen and congresswomen formed small groups, talking about anything except the vote. Slack-jawed looks, harsh snorts, and nervous laughter filled the hall.

  Daniel and Smith separated once they made it inside, both finding their seats. Once they entered, all eyes were on them. A quiet wave of everyone mouthing their names rippled through the room. The hair on Daniel's neck stood up when he felt the needle-sharp grip of Jones's fingers on his shoulder.

  “Hello, Congressman Hunter,” Jones said.

  Daniel tried to turn and stand, but he felt the force of Jones's hand keeping him down. All he could do was turn around to look up at the well-preserved face scowling at him.

  “Congressman Jones, how are you?” Daniel asked.

  “I'm well. Looking forward to the vote and how it turns out,” Jones replied.

  Daniel searched for the resolve that he had found earlier in the day at Smith's office, but it was harder to find in his present company.

  “I heard you had a meeting earlier today with Congressman Smith. How did that go?” Jones asked.

>   “You know Smith, all big words and fancy speeches,” Daniel said.

  “Of course. And what were these big speeches about?”

  The dryness of Daniel's throat became unbearable. He reached for the glass of water on his desk, gulping it down, some overflowing out of the corner of his mouth. He brushed his coat sleeve over his lips, wiping away the lingering droplets.

  “I don't think it's a secret that Smith opposes your bill, Congressman,” Daniel said.

  “No, I suppose it's not,” Jones said, smiling and patting Daniel on the back.

  Then Jones bent down, whispering into his ear, loud enough for only Daniel to hear.

  “But there are some secrets that others don't know. Secrets from our past. Secrets from the places we've been. Secrets from walks in the shadows. Secrets like yours, Congressman,” Jones said.

  Daniel couldn't move his arms or legs. He was paralyzed. He wasn't sure if Jones was bluffing, but Jones didn't have the reputation of being a gambler. Gambling hinted at a chance of losing.

  Jones pulled back from Daniel, laughing loud enough for the groups around them to hear, then started patting him on the back wholeheartedly as if the two had shared a joke.

  “Well, Daniel, it's always a pleasure, and I appreciate your support,” Jones said.

  The congressmen around Daniel started whispering. Daniel knew exactly what Jones was doing: making a last-ditch effort to try and break what resolve he had left. The only thing he wasn't sure of was if Jones had been successful.

  Daniel shook it off. There was no way Jones could know about his past. That was buried. He'd taken the necessary steps to make sure no one found out. Jones was just grasping at straws.

  The house Beth pulled up to, which straddled the Maryland state line, was dilapidated. The paint curled off the walls, leaving behind black strips of wood and concrete. Rocks and sand filled a yard surrounded by a sagging fence with broken and slanted boards. Pieces of jagged glass from the broken windows lined the porch. Beth peered inside, looking for any inhabitants.