Defending Hope: An EMP Survival Story (Surviving The Shock Book 1)

by Connor Mccoy

  Criver wiped his forehead. “Guess we have no choice but to keep going.”

  But their further efforts continued to turn up nothing. Oddly, everyone they ran into claimed they never had heard of The Coach, or could say very little about him or his men. Criver got so pissed he nearly put one guy’s head through a plastic table before Cheryl stopped him. Then he began understanding as he looked into the eyes of the people he questioned. They had the eyes of prey. The Coach indeed had taken over this city, and the people knew where they stood on the food chain.

  They didn’t give up. Criver couldn’t. It’d be like losing Michael all over again. Once again, Thomas Criver would lose a child. But at least this time, he understood the enemy. It wasn’t a sickness that could pop up unannounced, and steal away a child’s life. At least it was an enemy that he could kill with his bare hands.

  The shadows were growing longer. It must be getting close to dusk. Criver wondered if Amir could have escaped from those brutes. Perhaps he’d run into somebody who Criver and Cheryl had visited and would point him in their general direction. It was a longshot, but Criver was running out of hope. He was trying to find one kid in a sprawling city with no working cars, no internet, phones or any way to communicate over a long distance.

  Criver coughed. He nearly gagged. He and Cheryl had run into a street littered with human corpses. The smell was terrible. With no public health agency or morgue, no one was coming to pick up the bodies, except the vultures. The poor bastards had dropped dead, perhaps from sickness, exposure to the elements, or starvation. They had passed the occasional corpse before, but in this corner of the city it was particularly bad. It was likely these bodies were carted here in wheelbarrows to get them away from the camps.

  “I can’t believe there’s anyone alive around here,” Criver said under a pinched nose. “They’d have to move or the diseases from these bodies would kill them.”

  Cheryl motioned to an alleyway between buildings. “Here. It doesn’t look like there’s any bodies.”

  The pair explored the alleyway until they ran across a green tarp strung along a bent fence. Inside, a long-bearded gentleman beckoned to them.

  “Rather unusual to see anybody walking in the Field of Death,” he said in a gravel-throated tone.

  “So, that’s what it is called,” Criver said.

  “That’s what it is,” the old man replied. “At least here it’s upwind. Perhaps I’m still alive because the Grim Reaper thought he already got me.”

  Criver gazed at the man’s wrinkled skin, age spots and wild, willowy hair. He moved with a bent back and a slight limp. He seated himself on a flat, ripped-up mat in his tent. “So, would you two care for a drink?” He held up a plastic bottle half filled with water.

  “Sir, we couldn’t possibly accept anything from you. It’s tough enough to find anything. In fact—” Cheryl reached into her satchel and produced a fresh bottle of water, plus two cans of chicken, provisions she had packed for barter, or for a meal, if their search took them into tomorrow. “Do you have a way to open these?”

  “Bang them on the side of the wall?” The man laughed, showing off two missing teeth and the rest, which were not in great shape. “It’s appreciated.” He took them from Cheryl.

  “Truth is, life really hasn’t changed much for me. I fell on some hard times. Never could get back on my feet.” He stared at them. “You two got something on your mind?”

  Criver nodded. “We’re looking for a boy. Brown skin, long dark hair, Arabic descent. His name is Amir. The Coach’s men kidnapped him. But we can’t seem to make headway in finding him. Nobody wants to talk.”

  “Is that so?” The man shook his head. “Happened again, it seems.”

  “Again?” Cheryl asked.

  “The Coach collects kids.” The man stood up. “My name is Justin. Former businessman, assembly worker, now concrete seat warmer.” Criver offered his hand and Justin shook it. Cheryl offered her hand. Justin took it and kissed her on the back of her hand. “Probably the last time I’ll ever get to kiss a pretty lady. Oh, are you two…”

  “We just met yesterday,” Cheryl said, blushing a little.

  Justin’s eyes rolled from Cheryl to Criver. “You two don’t look at each other like new acquaintances.” He settled back down on the ground. “But let’s get down to your problem. I keep my ear to the ground and I hear things. You want to find your boy, there’s one place you must look. The little ones that The Coach’s men abduct, they’re taken to his base of operations at Eastown School.”

  Criver sat back. “Son of a bitch,” he said.

  “I didn’t even know that place still was standing,” Cheryl said.

  Criver thought back to the news reports. A few years back, unknown assailants set the school on fire in the middle of the day. The bastards who did it also chained the doors shut. Teachers pounded on the doors, trying in vain to let their students out, to escape the flames. Fire engines arrived, but not in time.

  “They repaired the damage. They almost tore down the whole place. They didn’t think any parent ever would send their kid to that place again.”

  Cheryl bit her lip. “I sure as hell wouldn’t.”

  Criver looked deep into Justin’s eyes. “Tell us everything you know.” He softened his tone. “Please.”

  Chapter Seven

  Cheryl crept along through the bushes. The neighborhood was bathed in darkness as night had fallen hours ago. “I don’t see any movement,” she said to Criver, crouched beside her.

  “You think they’re waiting for us?” Criver asked.

  “Better not take any chances,” she replied. “We sure caused a commotion today. They may send someone to finish us off for good.”

  Criver had followed Cheryl, keeping to the shadows of the houses until they got in range of her home. She led Criver around to the side door. The Coach’s goons hadn’t forced this one, and it appeared no one else had shown up to tamper with it either.

  She unlocked it. “I’m going in first. Cover me.”

  Criver drew his firearm and aimed over Cheryl’s head. She slid into the dark house, her flashlight on and waving through the inside room. The beams revealed nothing new, just the mess of the earlier fight. The front door remained propped up on its side, as it had been when Cheryl and Criver hastily put it back into place before they left, undisturbed, not budged an inch.

  Cheryl searched each and every room, including the closets. Their search turned up nothing. The house was safe.

  “Slightly less than fully paranoid.” Criver lowered his gun. “At least all those army maneuvers warmed me up. Damn. I wish I had brought a heavier coat. Don’t ask me how that old man can sleep out there in the open like that.”

  Cheryl started for the front door. “If you’ll indulge my ‘paranoia’ a little more, let me reinforce the front door before we crash.”

  Criver caught up to her. “Easy. There’s no way you’re at a hundred percent either. I have a spare set of hands, let me help you.”

  She nodded. “Thanks.”

  After they bolted the door back into place, the pair retired to a fresh meal of canned chicken at the dinner table. Criver ate slowly. The empty chair next to him was too noticeable for him to enjoy a meal that for the past few weeks he would have killed for.

  “Eastown, it’s pretty close, within easy walking distance,” Criver said.

  Cheryl nodded.

  Tension gripped Criver. On the one hand, he didn’t want to drag Cheryl into this. He knew what he was going to do. He shouldn’t have assumed Cheryl was going to follow him into that lion’s den. But it seemed insulting just to drop Cheryl from his plans. In fact, the idea of doing this without her made him feel strange.

  “I’ll need weapons,” he finally said. “You’re the army sergeant. I’m sure you have something around here.”

  Cheryl put down her fork. “You asked if I had a tank under this house. Not quite, but I do have some fun toys for The Coach’s men.”

 
; In the garage, Cheryl planted the gun magazine in Criver’s hand. “I don’t exactly have a super arsenal in here, but this’ll have to do. Probably will get off ten shots for both of us.”

  Criver eyed the magazine. “It’ll have to do. But from what I’ve seen, the DIRJ doesn’t have a lot of ammo either.”

  “Hopefully they drained a lot of ammo taking out their rivals. That evens the odds a little.” Cheryl then raised her baton. “How are you with hand weapons?”

  Criver shook his head. “I never trained much with them. I know handles, grappling, boxing, but never got into it with sticks. But I know many ways to disarm a person. When you’ve been in charge of protecting important people, you have to know how to get guns and knives out of an attacker’s hands.”

  “Gotcha.” Cheryl placed the baton on the small metal table in front of them. “No sweat. The baton’s my thing, anyway. Besides, I have another surprise I’ve been saving.” She then bent over and slid out a steel box from underneath the table. Quickly, Criver grabbed the right end while Cheryl grasped the left. The pair then lifted the box up onto the table.

  Criver exhaled loudly. “Damn, what’s in here?”

  “One of Cheryl’s special recipes.” She then cracked it open and revealed its contents, six small pouches. “We can make some smoke bombs out of these. Thank God I have them. I don’t have to worry about mixing up the chemicals. I just need to make some fuses.”

  “What are these supposed to do, make them choke to death?”

  “Not really, but they can give us cover in a sticky situation. Sometimes we also use them for signaling.” Cheryl eyed her collection. “I think I may have some timers.” She turned to Criver. “If we get to work, we should have it done in an hour.”

  “Great. Let’s get to it.”

  Criver and Cheryl worked on the smoke bombs. They wasted no time discussing what Justin had told them about The Coach’s men.

  “Do you know how many men The Coach has?” Criver had asked Justin.

  “No one can say, but enough to scare this city into submission,” Justin had replied, “I can give you some details on his top men. The Coach has a right-hand man, an enforcer named The Principal. He’s quick on his feet, a real nasty piece of work. I don’t know what he looks like, but somehow I get the feeling you’d know him when you saw him. The Principal has some lowlifes under his wing. One’s the brains. He’s The Tutor. He’s a demon with chains. It’s his favorite weapon.”

  “We ran into him,” Criver said with bitterness. “He grabbed Amir. I caught up with him at a parking lot, but he pulled a fast one. I don’t know what he did with Amir. He just wasn’t there anymore.”

  “That’s one of their tricks,” Justin said, “The Principal taught them that. They stash away kids inside of car trunks, come back for them later. It’s not like anything with wheels is going anywhere.”

  Criver bowed his head. “I searched every car I could get my hands on. I tried every trunk, but some of them were locked. I didn’t hear him shout or cry out.”

  Cheryl brushed her right hand against Criver’s arm. “Hey. We both went over that lot. He wasn’t there.”

  “Probably had another pickup man waiting to grab your boy.” Justin paused to take a swig of water before continuing. “The Coach’s little empire knows what it’s doing. I wouldn’t roast yourself over it.”

  Cheryl turned to their new friend. “We also ran into someone else, a tall man with a red beard. I went toe-to-toe with him. He likes to use a baton.” She rubbed her arm. “He’s pretty good with it, too. Could have bashed my skull in if I wasn’t careful.”

  “The Disciplinarian,” Justin replied. “Not much upstairs. He’s just in the upper ranks because he’s a brutal fighter, and he’s slippery as hell.”

  “No joke.” Cheryl massaged the bruise on her face. “I must have caught up with him twice, and he still got away.”

  “You two went toe-to-toe with them, and you’re still breathing? I got to say, that’s mighty impressive,” Justin said.

  Criver looked at the sky. The angle of the sun was getting lower. “It’s going to be dark soon. What else can you tell us about The Coach’s men?”

  “Wish I could say more. That’s all I got,” Justin said.

  “We can’t thank you enough,” Cheryl stood up. “Look, I have a house. You can go there and take shelter. I have food, water, medical supplies. You even can get a bath and get cleaned up—”

  Justin shook his head. “Sweetie, I’m older than any living man’s got a right to be nowadays.”

  “But there’s no way you can survive out here,” Cheryl said. “The cadavers out there are going to bring all kinds of disease, and you never know when a stray dog’s going to—”

  Justin raised his hand. “It’s fine. Whether it’s Mother Nature or The Coach’s men that kills me, it’d still be a relief to the world. It can’t waste time feeding old fossils like me.”

  Criver frowned. “Call me crazy, but I was taught to respect and serve your elders.”

  Justin smiled, showing off his poor dentistry. “I just realized something. If you take out The Coach, it’ll be folks like you who’ll rebuild the world.” He sat back against the wall. “I’ll go to my grave a little happier knowing that.”

  And so Criver and Cheryl bid Justin farewell and left, with Criver almost certain they’d never see him again.

  “There’s just no way of knowing how many goons The Coach has got in there,” Criver said, bringing them back to their present dilemma. “We might as well wear T-shirts saying ‘We’re idiots walking into a trap.’”

  Cheryl chuckled. “Well, Mr. Idiot, what do you say we put our heads together and figure out a plan?”

  “I could use some of that military know-how,” Criver said.

  “Yeah, but I had full squads with heavy armament and radio contact for evac if I needed it,” Cheryl replied. “This is just two of us against who knows how many.” She picked up one of the smoke pouches. “I’d rather have grenades, but I think these babies still can come in handy.”

  She stared into Criver’s eyes. “We’re not going up against insurgents or trained soldiers. These are just thugs off the street. They’re not trained to handle combat. If we set off a smoke bomb, they’re not going to know what’s hit them.”

  Criver eyed the smoke bomb. “Fight or flight.”

  “You got it, Thomas Criver.” She smiled. “They’ll think it’s a fire or tear gas. We can buy ourselves some crucial minutes to get in and find Amir.”

  “Assuming they don’t kill him first out of revenge.” Criver clenched a fist. “Or any of the other kids they have.”

  Cheryl set down the smoke bomb. “That’s always the risk.” She stared ahead. Apparently, Criver had struck a deeper nerve, dredging up something from her past.

  “I’ve been on rescue missions. Sometimes insurgents would kidnap villagers, contract workers. One time it was some of our own men.” She sighed. “On one mission, they wrapped up five prisoners with explosives. We were ten seconds too late.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She scooted a little closer to Criver. “I guess we both know how it feels when you can’t save someone.”

  He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. They seemed to know what each other was thinking.

  It wasn’t until they had finished drawing up their plans for the next day’s rescue that Criver understood how much he and Cheryl were in sync. She didn’t seem like someone he had met recently, nor even just a good friend. She seemed like…family. And it all happened in so short a time. It was almost dizzying.

  But maybe that’s how the new order worked. No one could watch TV, text, surf online, or shop in stores. So many things had been sliced out of everyday life, forcing people to focus on things such as survival and companionship.

  Or maybe it was her after all. She never quit. Even after they wrapped up their preparations and Criver collapsed onto the couch, Cheryl insisted on packing out trash and cleaning u
p some added mess from the fight with The Disciplinarian and The Tutor.

  Criver couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her military training, her years serving in the army, and working missions under the harsh Middle Eastern sun had done nothing to detract from the fact that she was a woman. In fact, it enhanced her femininity. Her poise was amazing to behold. She was fierce, but exuded warmth to those she protected.

  Also, as a man, Criver found her an irresistible sight. He felt a tinge of guilt, but it was hard not to enjoy the sight of her bending over to pick up something, her curves filling out her camo pants, to Criver’s eyes, perfectly. He definitely could appreciate the female form, though he also respected their boundaries and kept to himself. Back then, his eyes were only for Jessica. Now, he seemed to have eyes for someone else. Perhaps it was them sharing bits of their souls that opened his eyes to how beautiful and attractive she was.

  Finally, as Cheryl tied off a garbage bag, Criver rose, then approached her from behind. He reached out his hands.

  “Hey.” He took her shoulders and gently turned her around. “I think we’re done here.”

  “I just wanted to seal up this trash. I don’t want it to smell…”

  “Hey, don’t worry. It’s not going anywhere.” He gently rubbed her left shoulder. “You’re not a one-man army. Excuse me, one ‘woman.’” He chuckled. She smiled in return. “We need to get some sleep. We don’t want to attack the school half-asleep in our PJs.”

  Cheryl’s smile grew a little wider. “Right.”

  The pair locked eyes. Criver’s hands tensed. There seemed to be unspoken agreement between their gazes. In perhaps another time and place, with the lights on, the air conditioner running, candles lit not to provide light but to add ambiance to a romantic evening, and no thugs or anarchists roaming the streets, the pair would have passionately embraced, lips locked, their hands all over each other in intimate bliss. In minutes Cheryl’s bed would have been the setting fortwo passionate lovers.

  But this wasn’t that time or place. Life may have been moving faster than it had before the world went to Hell, but he had to put on the brakes. He wasn’t sure if he could focus on Amir’s rescue if he and Cheryl had ventured to that place. A part of him wasn’t even sure he still could let go of Jessica. He still dreaded the thought of severing that connection, of conceding that even if Jessica still was alive, she never would return to him, never restore the bond and love they once knew.