Surviving The Collapse Super Boxset: EMP Post Apocalyptic Fiction

by Roger Hayden

  “We push forward,” Blake said.

  “The tarps!” Mike said.

  “We can’t lose this bridge,” Blake yelled, running to the tarp.

  Kalen followed him and Mike sprinted after her. Blake lifted the tarp off and revealed enough plastic explosive to blow the bridge sky high.

  “Jesus,” Blake whispered.

  “We need to get off the bridge now!” Mike yelled.

  “If we lose this bridge it’ll set us back months and it’ll give the rebels time to regroup. We can’t let that happen,” Blake said.

  “Toss it over the side!” Jimmy yelled.

  “No, if it goes off under water it could damage the bridge’s pillars,” Blake answered.

  Blake pulled his radio to his mouth.

  “We need an ordnance expert on the bridge. Now,” Blake said.

  A few minutes later a man came jogging up toward them. He was an older gentleman, probably late fifties, and had thick-rimmed glasses. He wasn’t dressed in the normal military fatigues like Blake had on, so Mike figured he must have been a recruit like himself. He introduced himself as Brian.

  “What do we have here?” Brian asked.

  “Can you disarm it?” Blake asked.

  Brian walked around to the back end of the explosive device. There was a wire that ran from the back of the C-4 along the bridge wall leading to the opposite side. When Brian saw the configuration of the bomb he sprinted in the other direction without saying a word.

  Jimmy and Steve followed him. Blake tried to corral his unit, but once the other soldiers saw them sprinting away it was a free-for-all.

  “We have to get this explosive off the bridge!” Blake said.

  Kalen went over to the other side where the other tarp was. She flung the tarp off, revealing an equal amount of explosive as its counterpart.

  Mike grabbed her by the arm and tried pulling her backwards. She kept wiggling out of his grip.

  “It’s not worth it. Let it go,” Mike said.

  “I’m not going to fail!”

  Kalen was punching his chest, struggling to break free. Mike’s hands were starting to ache from her thrashing. She wasn’t going to give up. He’d seen that look before. It was the same look he had when he was on the road from Pittsburgh to the cabin, traveling to get to his family.

  Mike flung her on the other side of the bridge away from the explosive. He scooped up the bomb and sprinted down the slope of the bridge. He set the bomb in a clearing away from the bridge’s entrance. When he started to make his run back to the top of the bridge, the other bomb left on the bridge detonated.

  The concrete and metal flew through the air and landed all around him. Mike coughed and rolled around on the ground. A solid ringing ran through his ears and his vision was blurred, straining to focus on the shapes around him. When the ground stopped spinning he managed to focus on what was left of the bridge.

  Only a few thin pieces of concrete and steel connected the two sides. Mike scanned the bridge, looking for Kalen, but he couldn’t see her.

  Then a distant thumping sound began to replace the ringing in his ears. He couldn’t tell where it was coming from, but it was quick and sporadic. It was as if it was coming from all directions.

  Mike was still on his belly, crawling forward, trying to stand, but unable to get his legs underneath him. The ringing started to clear and the foreign thumping sounds became more recognizable. They were gunshots.

  Mike looked behind him and could see rebel forces moving back toward the bridge, and firing along the bank. Mike stumbled forward, attempting to stand, but then landed face first on the concrete.

  He heard shouts behind him and the last thing he saw before he blacked out was the butt of a rifle smacking his forehead.

  “What do you mean we can’t go after him?” Kalen screamed.

  One of the field nurses was sewing Blake’s arm up from the blast wound he suffered when the bridge exploded. There weren’t any casualties, but a few of the men were banged up pretty bad.

  “You saw the bridge. It’s gone, and we don’t have any navy to speak of, so unless you want to swim across the river with our supplies on a raft I suggest you calm down,” Blake said.

  “How long till we have boats in the water?” Kalen asked.

  “Boats weren’t a priority in our rebuilding efforts. It’ll be a while.”

  “How long’s a while?”

  “Will you give us a minute?”

  The nurse left the room, leaving Blake and Kalen alone. The stitches in his arm were poking out and blood streaked down his skin.

  Kalen wasn’t without her own injuries. A piece of concrete had knocked her unconscious and left her with twelve stitches across her forehead. There was a constant throbbing in her forehead, but she ignored it.

  “Look, kid, I know how much you want to get your dad, but we have to be realistic about this. We don’t have any way of getting over the river right now, and even if we did there’s no guarantee that he’s still alive. That’s something you’re going to have to be willing to accept,” Blake said.

  Kalen grabbed hold of the frame at the foot of the bed. She felt as if she could squeeze through the metal, crumpling it into flat pieces of lead.

  “We’re going to get my father back. Dead or alive, he’s coming home,” Kalen said.

  Anne and Freddy were in the waiting room when she got out. They had been there all day, waiting to see her. She had been done with her checkup hours ago, but she wasn’t ready to face them just yet. She needed more time to gather her thoughts.

  She thought she’d know what she was going to say when she saw them, but the moment her eyes landed on her mother’s face whatever plan of action she had disappeared.

  She found herself running into her mother’s arms, feeling the embrace and warmth she hadn’t allowed herself to feel for what felt like a very, very long time.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart,” Anne whispered.

  Kalen squeezed her mother tighter and could feel Freddy coming in on the side of her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She held the back of his head and just allowed herself to be vulnerable again.

  Once she finally gathered the strength to let go, Kalen wiped her eyes on her shirt and Anne examined the stitches on her forehead.

  “What happened?” Anne asked.

  “The bridge we were sent to take over was destroyed. Dad was on the other side when it blew. I don’t know if—”

  Kalen cut herself off. Freddy was looking up at her with the fearful eyes of a child, wanting to know more, but afraid of what that knowledge meant.

  “They don’t know when we’ll be able to cross the river to get him back. They don’t have any boats prepared,” Kalen said.

  “There’s no other way across?” Anne asked.

  “No, the other bridges were blown up a while ago. I guess the rebels wanted to bottleneck everyone. Have one way in, and one way out.”

  Kalen could see the same words Blake had said etched across her mother’s face. The chances of her dad being alive were slim, and even if he was, there wasn’t a guarantee they could get him back.

  Mike’s head was pounding and he was drifting in and out of consciousness. He caught glimpses of different images when he was able to keep his eyes open. Brick walls, people in surgical masks, soldiers with rifles—all appeared and disappeared.

  When Mike finally came to he was in a bed. His head was still pounding and when he tried to touch his forehead, he realized both of his hands were restrained. His feet were also tied down around the ankles.

  He strained against the cuffs, but he couldn’t break them. There was an IV set up next to him and he could hear voices just behind the curtain accompanied by footsteps. Mike’s heart pounded harder with each step and when the curtain finally swung open a doctor with a clipboard was looking down at him.

  “How are you feeling?” the doctor asked.

  “The bridge. What happened to the other soldiers on the bridge?”

&nbs
p; “Calm down. You’re going to be all right, but you need to rest.”

  Mike started thrashing violently against the restraints, shaking the entire bed.

  “My daughter! Where’s my daughter?”

  “Nurse, sedate him.”

  The nurse shoved the needle into Mike’s arm and he could feel a weightlessness fall over him. The faces staring down at him dissolved as he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

  When Mike woke again he was still in the hospital room, but this time the curtain had been flung open and he was in the room by himself. There were two other empty beds with their sheets neatly made.

  The drugs had left him tired, woozy. He was having a hard time concentrating.

  “Hello.”

  The voice was cordial, but firm. The figure Mike was staring at in the doorway was blurry. He could tell that he was in a suit, but he couldn’t see the features of his face.

  “I apologize for what happened earlier. It’s not something I wanted to do, but my men told me you were being very… difficult.”

  The old man moved to the foot of the bed. Mike could make out his face now. It was kind, but weary. Lines of stress creased along his forehead, under his eyes, and along his mouth.

  Mike shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He recognized the old man, but he couldn’t remember from where. Whatever drugs they had him on were fogging his mind. Mike checked his limbs. He was still tied down.

  “What happened to the other soldiers on the bridge?” Mike asked.

  “Most of them survived the blast, but the bridge did not fare very well. It wasn’t a move we wanted to make. It hurt us just as much as it hurt you, but we couldn’t allow your men to advance.”

  Mike wasn’t sure how many questions he was going to get out of him, so he wanted to pick them carefully.

  “Where am I?” Mike asked.

  “You’re in south Cincinnati.”

  “Who are you?”

  “My name is Dr. Quinn Wyatt.”

  10

  Day 25 (Columbus)

  Beth watched Cain drive. She hadn’t taken her eyes off him since they left Carrollton. She was drawn to him in the most unexplainable way. Everything he did seemed so effortless yet calculated with tremendous intention.

  Cain kept his eyes on the road and hadn’t glanced her way the entire trip. In fact he hadn’t said a single word. She wasn’t sure if Joey had said anything. All she could focus on at the moment was what he made her do.

  Every once in a while she’d glance down at her hands and see the stains of blood, the blood of her son. It was dried now, flaking against her skin.

  She was indifferent to it all. Whatever, or whoever, she believed in before was a forgotten memory.

  Beth looked out the window. The street signs were signaling that they were close to Columbus. Then the car turned onto one of the exits for the city.

  “I thought we were going to Cincinnati?” Beth asked.

  “We’re just going to make a quick pit stop here,” Cain answered. He looked over to her for the first time on the trip and smiled. “I need to show off my new weapons.”

  Beth hadn’t been to any major city since she was a little girl. Her jaw dropped when they entered downtown Columbus. The skyscrapers and buildings towered over her. There were abandoned cars and trash everywhere. It looked like a war zone.

  They weaved in and out of the parked cars through the streets until they made it to a blockade of men with guns in uniform. Cain stopped the truck.

  “Stay here,” he said.

  The door slammed as he left and walked toward the soldier. He was greeted with a handshake and smile. He kept gesturing back to the truck and Beth could see the other soldier squinting into the window to get a look at her.

  Joey poked his head through the space between the two front seats.

  “What are we doing here?” Joey asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’m getting hungry.”

  “I’m sure we’ll eat something soon.”

  Once they were past the blockade the rest of the city seemed so neat. The cars had been cleared from the streets and the trash had been picked up. People were walking back and forth casually, as if nothing was wrong.

  In one of the windows of the stores they passed she could see a fan plugged in blowing air across someone’s face.

  “The power is on?” Beth asked.

  “What?” Joey said, jumping out of his seat.

  “Yes,” Cain said.

  “How?” Beth asked

  “We turned it on,” Cain said.

  They pulled into a space where some other military trucks were located. “City Hall” was printed across the sign in front of the building.

  There were more guards stationed at the entrance, and all of them saluted Cain as he passed them.

  Inside there were rooms filled with people. None of them had uniforms on. All of them were in regular street clothes, and they varied in age and ethnicity. Cain brought them to a room where most of the inhabitants were young men.

  “Wait here and I’ll come to collect you in a little while,” Cain said.

  Before Beth could say anything Cain closed the door. Two empty chairs were alone in the corner, so that’s where Beth and Joey headed.

  There were whispers as the two of them walked by, and understandably so. The men in the room looked strong, healthy. An old woman and young boy didn’t fit the room’s standard.

  Beth had no idea what’d she gotten herself into. For the first time since she left Carrollton she could feel doubt creep into her mind.

  Cain knocked on the office door and a hoarse voice greeted him from the other side.

  “Enter!”

  The old man behind the desk looked up from his paperwork.

  “HA! Cain, my boy! I was starting to think you wouldn’t make it,” Major Griffin said.

  Griffin embraced Cain in a hug and Cain took a seat across from Griffin’s desk.

  “What took you so long?” Griffin asked.

  “I wanted to make sure that I got what we needed.”

  “Always the perfectionist. How many did you bring back?”

  “Two.”

  “Two? That’s it?”

  Cain nodded.

  “Jesus, Cain. Thompson brought back at least a dozen. You really couldn’t find any more than two?”

  “I found plenty, but I only found two that fit what we need.”

  “Well, they must be something. Nothing wrong with quality over quantity. Did you drop them off in the training room?”

  “Yes.”

  “The drills should be starting soon. Let’s go take a look.”

  Cain and Griffin snaked through the hallways. A few other soldiers joined them as they walked out the back and headed across the street. The group of recruits they brought in exited the side of the building and spilled into the training yard.

  The officers around Cain and Griffin pointed out the ones they recruited.

  “So where are yours, Cain?” Thompson asked.

  “There on the back corner,” Cain answered.

  Laughter rippled through the group, but Cain didn’t flinch.

  “Stopped at a daycare on your way in?” Thompson asked.

  Griffin grabbed Cain by the arm and leaned him in close.

  “Is this some kind of joke, Cain?” Griffin asked.

  “Just watch.”

  The group of recruits went through a few exercises on the field. Beth and Joey struggled with some of the drills, while the rest of the group brushed through them with ease. It went on like that for about an hour.

  After the final physical drills were completed, Thompson slapped Cain on the back.

  “We can’t all bring home winners,” Thompson said.

  “No, we can’t,” Cain said.

  The group of recruiters started to disperse and Griffin shook his head in disgust. Everyone had turned their backs to him.

  “Anyone care to place a small wager?” Cain
asked.

  Thompson was the first to turn around.

  “And what’s the bet?” Thompson asked.

  “That my recruits can get the job done, but yours can’t.”

  “We’ve already seen what the recruits can and can’t do, Cain, but I’m always up for watching you embarrass yourself.”

  “Bring your two best recruits to the shooting range in an hour.”

  “What do you say, boys?” Thompson asked, glancing around at the other recruiters. “Anyone up for a little target practice?”

  When the hour was up the recruiters gathered their two best marksmen. It was an inside range, with targets set at different intervals. The first was close, only five yards out, but the farthest was thirty yards, used for rifle practice.

  It was decided that everyone would be using the same rifle for consistency. Thompson went to set the targets down the field but stopped, turning back to Cain.

  “Maybe we should start at the five-yard mark? That way your recruits have an easier time,” Thompson said.

  “The ten-yard mark will be fine, but I brought my own targets,” Cain said.

  Cain disappeared into one of the rooms. When he came back he was pulling the arm of a young woman. She was blindfolded and had a gag in her mouth. Cain stood her in front of the ten-yard target and whispered in her ear.

  “Stay still.”

  He gave her a kiss on the cheek and she shuddered as he removed the blindfold and pulled the wad of cloth out of her mouth.

  “What are you doing?” Griffin asked.

  “Winning a bet.”

  Cain brushed Griffin off and picked up the rifle.

  “First person to shoot wins,” Cain said.

  The only sound that was heard was the gasp from the woman. She was shaking. Tears were running down her face. She struggled for breath when she spoke, choking on her own spit.

  “P-please, d-don’t do th-this,” she said.

  “This is insane,” Thompson said.

  Thompson moved toward the girl and Cain aimed the barrel of the rifle at him. Thompson froze.

  “Out in the field we won’t be shooting thin sheets of paper with rings around them. We’ll be shooting people like her. People who oppose us and what we’re trying to build. Or did you forget that on your trip, Thompson?” Cain asked.