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

by Connor Mccoy

  Cheryl grimaced. The two of them exchanged pained looks. Maybe it was a relief this wasn’t Amir, but this was still a human being who had had a life. He may have been trying to escape from Westown, but was too sick or weak to make it any farther than this.

  The pair continued.

  Finally, the landscape changed. Unfortunately, that just made things worse. The highway now converted into a bridge over a lake. While the other side was visible on the horizon, neither of them could be sure how long it would take to get across. If it was too long, they possibly could be stuck on the bridge if night fell.

  Criver looked at Cheryl. There was no hesitation. They had to press on.

  They marched forward across the bridge. The heat was even worse because the sun’s rays hit the water and heated it up, which, in turn, increased the humidity around them. It was like walking through the middle of a steam bath.

  The only time the smell changed was when they approached another corpse. Another human being had perished out here, this one onto the hard cement of the bridge. This person appeared to be a woman, but she had died more recently. Her form was more easily discernable.

  Another body that won’t get buried, Criver thought.

  The journey stretched on for hour after aching hour. At this point, neither of them put any thought to what they were doing. They just kept going. It was like they had become mindless robots. Their legs just performed as they were ordered to do, and that order was to walk. Walk. Walk. Walk.

  And then, at last, their boots touched down on soil again. They had crossed the bridge. What’s more, trees were now in sight. Soon th highway would cut through the woods once again.

  They soldiered on. But, as Criver began hoping for the relief the trees would provide, all the day’s aches and pains returned with a vengeance, tormenting him for the next hour before they could get to the woods.

  As their trek alongside the highway finally took them beside the shelter of the trees, Criver couldn’t take it anymore. He un-tethered his pack and let it fall onto the grass. Then he imitated his pack and plunged onto the soft, grassy Earth.

  “Tom!” Cheryl suddenly coughed. Her throat was so dry that the act of talking sent her into a coughing fit. Her own fatigue then claimed her and sent her to her knees.

  Criver rolled over and sat up. “Got to…get these…damn things off!” He practically tore off his boots, then his socks, releasing his feet to the open air. “God.” He panted loudly. Free of the burden of carrying his body around, the pain in his feet subsided, giving him a moment of relief.

  Cheryl crawled up to him as Criver massaged his worn feet. “There’s no way we can keep going. We have to stop and rest.”

  “Can we do everything sitting down?” Criver asked. Cheryl just looked at him with a weary smile.

  Then he noticed the light around them was fading. Dusk was settling in, and soon evening would be upon them. They had been walking for so long, so single-mindedly, that they hadn’t considered the day’s progression. In fact, they should have noticed how low the sun was the moment they stepped off the bridge.

  “Shit,” he breathed.

  “We need to set up camp.” Cheryl climbed to her feet.

  “Great.” Criver stood up, but his legs wobbled. They had to get into the woods and get the camp set up quickly, or soon it would be too dark for them to see what they were doing. How had they not been aware of the time of day?

  Chapter Seventeen

  With the tent up, Criver and Cheryl didn’t even bother with a campfire. It wouldn’t have been smart to start a fire anyway, and let it draw the attention of The Coach’s forces. Instead, they wolfed down berries to get something in their stomachs, along with some cold meat, which probably wasn’t a smart move, but as of now they weren’t thinking much at all. Everything almost seemed like instinct—shelter, eat, and sleep.

  Only, they weren’t ready to sleep. Ironically, they were exhausted down to their bones, but too strung out thinking of their goal. They huddled inside the center of their hastily erected tent.

  “We should have stopped earlier so we could set up the cover right.” Cheryl shook her head. “Dammit! How could I have been so stupid?”

  “What’s this “I” business? I didn’t think of it, either. The blame ought to be fifty-fifty.”

  He was already close to her, but he inched a little closer, then pressed gently on Cheryl’s temple. “What’s going on inside that head?”

  “I want to get to Amir.”

  “We both do.”

  “I want to stop The Coach. I want to smash his head into the concrete.” She trembled. “The Coach, The Principal…” Her lips stiffened. “My mother’s second husband. They’re all the same kind. Bastards who love to get their way by crushing other people. I hate them all.” She paused. “But I’m afraid that’s all I’ll ever do.”

  She turned to Criver. “I looked in the mirror one day and I realized that I never trusted any of the men who tried to be friends with me. I had to come home. I wanted to have a normal life. I wanted to have a baby in my arms. Put the boots and the gun away. Yeah, live the all-American dream.” She bowed. “But, I’ll always be a soldier. I’ll never trust anyone.”

  Criver scooted over so he was in her line of sight. “With all due respect, Sergeant Dennis, that’s complete bullshit.” He smiled. “You shared your house, your food, everything you had with me. You risked your life for me, and for Amir, and you’re still doing it. And I know Amir’s going to have a fantastic mommy.”

  Tears welled up in Cheryl’s eyes. “And he’ll have a fantastic daddy!” One tear rolled down her cheek.

  The pair looked at each other. At that moment, the final barrier, whatever had remained of one that had stood between them, completely fell.

  Neither of them knew, or afterward ever could remember, who made the first move. But in an explosive instant, Thomas Criver and Cheryl Dennis locked in a frenzy of passionate kissing. Their inhibitions were gone. The explosion of sudden passion flooded their exhausted bodies with new life. Each desired to be with the other, completely and utterly. Criver’s shirt was pulled off. Cheryl’s pants were yanked off her body.

  Soon they had returned to that magical time in the creek, when their bodies were shorn of their clothes. Cheryl’s beautiful form was now on full display once again. Criver broke loose from her just to gaze at her body.

  She’s amazing, Criver thought.

  Cheryl laughed a little, with the biggest smile he had seen on her yet. Had he actually said that out loud?

  Yep, she replied. And, you know, you’re pretty amazing, too.

  You are gorgeous, he said, or thought. He was having trouble telling what he was saying or thinking. You are truly beautiful. As he leaned down to her again, he wanted this special lady to know she was prized and loved, and that anything she ever had heard to the contrary throughout her life was nothing but a pile of useless ashes.

  And, in turn, the way she clung to him, her tight holds, her aggressive kisses, told him she understood and trusted him completely. She never would be afraid to connect with another person ever again.

  Criver’s mind was at total peace.

  He had not returned to the cruel teases of a past life of normalcy, only to have it ripped away from him, or the dark, haunting presence of The Coach taunting him for losing all his loved ones. Instead, he was adrift in a weightless void of a dream that soothed and reenergized his body.

  He was barely aware that he wasn’t alone. His arms pressed against warm flesh—Cheryl’s. The throes of lovemaking had exhausted them both and deposited them in a world of dreams. He rubbed his arms a little, bumping against the bottom of Cheryl’s breasts. He knew the lovely sight of the woman he’d wake up to, but he wanted to stay here, in this ocean of peace, for as long as he could.

  Then, the void shimmered like a pool after a stone had been thrown in it. A sound cut through the silence. It was the sound of a car pulling up.

  What the hell? Where did that
come from? The sound was so out of place that it threw Criver off-balance. Was he reimagining his life before the pulse all over again?

  No. This time he forced his thoughts in a new direction. He was entering a home powered by electricity, with air conditioning and all the creature comforts of the modern age again. Cheryl waited inside, shorn of military garb, instead dressed in a red sweater and dark blue jeans, with her red hair teased up and her lips painted with bright gloss. Criver pulled off his jacket, and then greeted his Cheryl with a passionate kiss.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. “So, what was your day like? Get to bust anybody?”

  “No, it was boring as hell. Listened to a whole bunch of rich guys talk about mergers and acquisitions and shit that just went way over my head.” He laughed.

  “I think I’m just going to stand up a mannequin and run off to grab some doughnuts and coffee. Or…” He kissed Cheryl on the lips. “Maybe sneak home and have a little fun.”

  Cheryl leaned in closer to kiss him again, but before their lips connected, a ball flew past the back of Criver’s head—a soccer ball. Criver turned around. “Amir!” He released Cheryl, then grabbed the ball. “Now, what’s this?”

  A boy of about eight, with short black hair and clean play clothes, stepped through the hall doorway. “A football!” he said cheerily.

  Criver chuckled. He remembered that in Syria, Amir had been exposed to the “European” version of football, which was actually soccer, not the American version. “Now, you know it’s heresy to throw this ball in this house. We use the good old-fashioned American pigskin.”

  Cheryl playfully pushed on Criver’s right shoulder. “He just doesn’t want to admit he sucks at soccer.”

  “Hey, anybody can master soccer.” He picked up the ball. “I just choose not to.”

  “Wimp,” Cheryl shot back. Criver responded by thrusting the ball at her, but kept a hold of it, in a mock gesture of tossing the ball at her.

  Amir held up his hands. “Hey, throw it to me!”

  “Oh, you want the ball, huh? This is for kicking, so we’re going to have to take it outside. Start running!”

  Amir laughed and turned around to the back hall, toward the kitchen. He ran in that direction, with Criver following.

  “Hey, no running in the house! I swear I live with two little boys!” Cheryl said with a laugh.

  Amir was first to the back door. But, as his hand grasped the doorknob, Criver slid to a sudden stop. The outside, which still should have been bathed in the sunlight of late afternoon, was suddenly dark. Moreover, thick woods intruded where Criver’s backyard should have been.

  Then Criver heard voices from outside. Whispers. A call for quiet. Then crunches on the ground.

  Criver blinked his eyes. The sounds tore him out of his blissful sleep. He was now in his tent, embracing a sleeping Cheryl. He pulled himself loose from his lover and scrambled to get up. They hastily had put up the shelter and, in the burst of passion last night, they hadn’t properly packed up or organized anything. Criver wasn’t sure where anything was.

  Damn. They always had prepared their supplies in the tent carefully so they’d have easy access to weapons in case someone tried to jump them in the night. But now he couldn’t even find a flashlight to see a damned thing.

  Cheryl started to stir. Criver crawled to the flap of the tent and unzipped it enough to stick his head out and look around. The moonlight was just enough to distinguish two dark shapes following a trail to their spot. They would be on them soon. In the dark shadows of the woods, Criver was at a loss to see if they were brandishing weapons.

  “Tom?” Cheryl was on her knees, using Criver to climb up. “What’s wrong?”

  “We got company.”

  “What? How many?”

  “Two. Don’t know if they’re armed. Light. Find a light. Hurry.”

  Cheryl turned back and fumbled through the bag while Criver’s mind was going a mile a minute. They literally were caught with their pants down—fully naked, in fact, and completely unprepared. Now, think. Weapons. Ammo. Could he waste shots on these guys that he might need fighting The Coach? No, his blade. He could use that, provided he even could find it in time.

  In Cheryl’s fumbling, she had knocked over Criver’s clothing bag, which was mostly open, and a pair of shorts fell out. He grabbed them and then shoved his feet in his boots, his only concession to modesty, plus the fact that he needed footwear to kick these assholes in the teeth for disturbing his sleep.

  “Dammit, dammit,” Cheryl kept muttering as she rummaged through the bag. She never had sounded this flustered before.

  Criver couldn’t wait for both of them to get set for action. He had to protect his warrior woman, even without a weapon. “I’ll take care of this.” Criver climbed out of the tent and hurried off, without letting Cheryl object.

  He crept along the trees adjoining the trail. The two shapes were now at the edge of the campsite, close enough that Criver could make out shaggy beards on both of them. So, they were men. They wore hats, beat-up jackets, baggy pants with holes around the knees and lower legs, and worn, dirty boots. Still couldn’t tell if they were armed. Verbally confronting them wasn’t a wise move. They could turn and shoot him if he uttered a word.

  Besides, after having his blissful sleep disrupted, Criver didn’t feel like making nice with these two.

  He continued creeping along the trees, but his footsteps were making some noise. The two men turned, halting their approach to the tent. Good. Give Cheryl time to get prepared, and shoot their asses if necessary.

  Criver had spent so much time in dark nights outside that he had learned to discern a few things, such as where an object would begin and end. This helped him figure out where a bush or a tree was and not knock into or trip over something. On the other hand, these two were moving cautiously. They hadn’t had such practice.

  He had worked his way to almost directly behind the two men, who now were looking around them. Clearly, these two weren’t used to scouting around dark woods, and were reacting to Criver’s noises without honing in on him. Big mistake.

  But then the two men decided they had had enough of wondering if there was a bogeyman out there, and returned their attention to Criver and Cheryl’s tent.

  That’s when Criver jumped into action.

  His fist slammed into one of the men, sending the intruder plunging onto the rocks. The other guy turned. So, he did have a weapon—a knife. Quickly, Criver grabbed his arm and held it tight. In this darkness, he couldn’t judge perfectly where the knife was. A simple error could have the knife plunged into his gut.

  The man struggled savagely. He weighed a lot, and had some muscle, which meant he wouldn’t be easy to take down. He even opened his mouth wide. This asshole actually was going to try biting him!

  Criver moved quickly. He stomped his assailant’s foot, which jolted him and stopped his attempted bite. From there, Criver punched him hard, which knocked him against a tree and caused him to drop his weapon.

  Criver then released him and scooped up the knife. Now he had a weapon.

  Unfortunately, he also had his back turned. The second man knocked him hard from behind, likely intending to nail him on the neck but just striking the back of his shoulders instead.

  That was a bad move. If you don’t kill the predator on the first move, your ass is likely history.

  Despite the pain from the hit, Criver spun around and tried plunging the blade into the man’s throat. The attacker caught Criver by the wrist, stopping his impending demise. He wasn’t especially strong, but he could stop Criver from dealing a death blow.

  Criver heard rapid footsteps behind him. He was about to ambushed by the other guy.

  Then a loud pop rang out in the air. Criver heard a loud thud hitting the dirt behind him.

  Criver’s attacker suddenly stopped trying to push on Criver and tried pulling away completely. As they spun around, Criver saw why. The guy who had tried to bite Criver now was ly
ing on the ground.

  Sergeant Cheryl Dennis was standing downhill from the tent, clothed in Criver’s T-shirt and army shorts, clutching a pistol. Her clothes were disheveled. Evidently, she barely was able to grab the clothes and weapon in time.

  The other invader saw her and started shaking. “Wha-wha-wait! I-I give up! Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!”

  Criver coughed. He was a little battered, but nothing felt broken. He nodded to Cheryl, then turned to his assailant. “How many more of you are out here?”

  “N-none.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “Yes! It’s just me and Shawn here!”

  Criver looked at Shawn. The man’s mouth was wide open. He was breathing in labored spasms. Blood was filling the top of his shirt. His breaths grew shorter and shorter. Then, there were no more.

  “You--you killed him!” the surviving invader sputtered. “You killed him!”

  Criver held up the blade. “And what do you think you were going to do with this? This is a hunting knife. Pretty good for gutting the inside of an animal, or a person.”

  The man eyed Cheryl again. The soldier still was pointing her firearm at him. “Okay. We just wanted to rob you. We heard people are fleeing Westown. We took a route this way. We hoped…” He panted. “We hoped…”

  “Yeah, you thought you might find some pushovers and sack them in the night. Boy, did you screw up,” Criver said.

  “Go to Hell!” The man quaked. “We’re trying to survive!”

  “So are we, but you don’t see us attacking people for their stuff. That’s what separates us from the beasts.” He glanced again at Shawn’s fresh corpse. The man has been wild, even willing to bite Criver to take him down.

  “You’re not going to kill me, are you? Just let me go! Let me go already! I don’t want to die—”

  Criver quickly marched over and grabbed him by the neck, then slammed him against a nearby tree. “Welcome to Judge Tom Criver’s courtroom. I am the judge, jury, and if necessary, executioner. So, let’s talk your plea deal since you’re obviously guilty of all charges, including pissing me off. Now, I seem to remember a car pulling up earlier before you showed up. You drove here, right?”