EMP Catastrophe | Book 3 | Erupting Chaos

by Hamilton, Grace

  EMP Catastrophe

  Erupting Trouble

  Erupting Danger

  Erupting Chaos

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  RELAY PUBLISHING EDITION, JUNE 2021

  Copyright © 2021 Relay Publishing Ltd.

  All rights reserved. Published in the United Kingdom by Relay Publishing. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Grace Hamilton is a pen name created by Relay Publishing for co-authored Post-Apocalyptic projects. Relay Publishing works with incredible teams of writers and editors to collaboratively create the very best stories for our readers.

  www.relaypub.com

  Blurb

  A dire situation keeps getting worse…

  When Matthew Riley’s father collapses with a possible heart attack, it drives home just how bad the situation in Galena, IL has become after an EMP knocked out the power around the world. David needs medication and the group needs a doctor if everyone is going to survive in the long term. But hostile forces have their eyes on the River Rock Hotel, and keeping the family safe may be impossible.

  Things aren’t going back to normal…

  Kathleen Riley knows it, even if her husband hasn’t admitted it yet. With new allies at their side, the Riley family has a chance to fortify their hotel and start rebuilding a life in the new world. But with Matthew rushing to make things seem normal again, they’re at risk of exposing themselves to hostile forces.

  An old enemy returns…

  Life is already difficult enough even before the family receives news that Samuel West is back in town. He’s brought friends and he’s ready to fight to take control of the Red Rock Hotel and the remnants of Galena. The Rileys will do anything to keep their land, but after another tragedy strikes they may not be able to win. After all, what is survival worth if everything you’re surviving for is never coming back?

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  End of Erupting Chaos

  Thank you

  Make an Author’s Day

  About Grace Hamilton

  Sneak Peek: Emerging Chaos

  Also By Grace Hamilton

  Want more?

  1

  Within Matthew’s arms, David’s weak form slowly became dead weight.

  David’s feet stumbled against the ground, his toes dragging, even with Matthew and Wyatt’s strength keeping him upright. Patton grunted as he tried to help hold his grandfather up. The heavy press of David’s shoulders sank into Matthew, seeming to become wooden and lifeless.

  The weight made Matthew’s muscles tremble with exertion as he tried to encourage his father to continue walking up the mountain and back to the hotel. We’re not going to make it, he thought, panicked.

  Patton let out a frustrated cry of denial just before David slipped from their collective grasp, nearly collapsing on the ground. Matthew caught Wyatt’s concerned gaze. They needed to pause and readjust. More than that, they needed to make sure David was still breathing. The thought sent another wave of panicked grief through him, but Matthew refused to give in to it. David was still alive. This was just a setback. They could handle this. They would get David home. All he needed was rest. Once they got back to the hotel, David would be fine.

  Matthew’s arms shook as he and Wyatt laid David face-up on the side of the road. When Matthew knelt over his father, the sight of David’s face filled him with dread. David looked pale. Sweat dotted his brow. When Matthew reached out to touch his cheek, his father’s skin felt clammy and cold.

  “Dad, I’m sorry,” Patton sobbed. “Grandpa was too heavy. I didn’t mean to drop him!”

  Matthew took in a shuddering breath and was about to console his son when his mind went blank, all except for the image of his parents’ old house in Chicago. That cramped dining room filled to the brim with inherited furniture, and the smell of roasted chicken filling the air.

  This couldn’t be happening again. Memories slammed into him like a hammer hitting an anvil. David’s mouth parted just a touch and he took a wheezing breath in, but he didn’t exhale.

  Was this another heart attack?

  Not again, Matthew thought as he fell to his knees and placed his hands over David’s chest. Forming fists, he pushed hard against the breastbone protecting David’s heart. He began to do chest compressions and rescue breathing. With each pump of his hands pushing into David’s chest, he remembered the first time he’d done this. The first time he’d failed at this…

  He, Kathleen, and the kids had gone over to his parents’ house for dinner. It had been a semi-consistent event for them. Half the time they cancelled dinners because of Matthew’s meetings going late with clients, or Kathleen needing to stay up late to grade papers, or sometimes they were just too exhausted and lied, ordering pizza and feeling guilty instead. But this time, they’d honored their commitment.

  The dinner had been a chaotic affair in that small, contained way that family get-togethers can be. He remembered Patton excitedly talking Ruth’s ear off as she stuck the rosemary chicken breasts into the oven, and how Kathleen scolded Allison for turning into a texting zombie, and then promptly scolded Matthew for checking his emails too often. How David had grumbled when Ruth put him to work whipping the potatoes. Matthew had poured himself a glass of wine, his thoughts on a contract he was waiting to finalize. All it would need was his signature, and then another fun project and a payday was promised to him. He checked his email again and ignored Kathleen’s scowl.

  Over dinner, David and Matthew had gotten into a light-hearted disagreement over politics. David had just shot off another barbed comment to Matthew when he suddenly gasped and put his hand over his chest. His face went deadly pale. Sweat beaded his brow. When Matthew put his hand on David’s arm to steady him, his father sank to the floor as though he were a puppet and all of his strings had suddenly been cut.

  “You’re not going deep enough,” Wyatt said, breaking Matthew’s memory to pieces.

  “I can do it,” Matthew said through gritted teeth. He began to push harder into David’s chest, hating that with each pump of his fists, David’s face seemed to become that much more lax, as if all his life were seeping out of him. Matthew couldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop this. Why couldn’t he stop it? He had to stop it.

  He remembered how David had slipped through his arms that first time. He’d been so shocked. David’s body had headed toward the carpet as if he didn’t know how to respond properly. As if
David had lost control of his limbs. Matthew had fumbled at David’s arm, wrenching it awkwardly, as David landed on the floor with a crash. His mother shrieked. Kathleen gasped before crying out, “I’m calling 911!” Allison walked back into the dining room and said, “Dad, what’s wrong with Grandpa?” in a lost voice, while Patton peeked around her with eyes wide as saucers.

  Matthew hadn’t had time to respond, then. His fingers had touched the loose skin of David’s neck, seeking a pulse. There was no steadying thump, not even a stilted one, against David’s neck or even under his jaw. In an instant, the image of David as this Goliath of a man had shattered and fragmented. For Matthew, David had always been a staple of his life, someone that seemed immortal, who would never be absent. Now, that figure was leaving and would be gone forever unless Matthew stopped it. He had to stop it.

  Matthew had taken a CPR course a while ago, as a qualification for a marketing stunt as well as for his own peace of mind. He vaguely remembered what he was supposed to do. He never thought he’d have to use that training in his life. Falling to his knees on the carpet, Matthew had started to do chest compressions on his father and felt the sudden pop under his hands as David’s ribs broke from the pressure. The minutes before the ambulance arrived were punctuated by fear and tears. Matthew had never been more relieved than when the paramedics swooped in and took over for him. David had been loaded on a stretcher, an oxygen mask slipped over his nose and mouth, and one of the EMTs called out that David was temporarily stable before hauling his father into their van.

  As Matthew had watched the red and blue lights illuminate him in strobes, he knew that something had fundamentally changed. It was a fleeting impression, though, because Ruth had commanded him to get in the van with his father, yelling that she and Kathleen would follow the ambulance to the hospital in the car. He had chucked his keys at Kathleen and scrambled into the ambulance. He had tried to fold himself into a small space while the EMTs passed vials to each other, strung tubing from liquid pouches to David’s arms, and spoke in medical jargon beyond Matthew’s understanding.

  Now, there would be no ambulance to swoop in and save the day. There were no EMTs to arrive like knights, ready to stabilize and transfer his father’s failing body to a safe haven of treatment. There was only a lonely stretch of road on a mountain, and Matthew’s fragmented memories.

  “Matthew,” Wyatt said, once more shattering Matthew’s recollection. “Man, you’re still not going deep enough. You have to press harder.”

  “I’m trying,” Matthew said and put as much weight and pressure as he could into the chest compressions. He felt strangely weak, as if after everything, this would be the event that stole his strength. Beneath him, he watched as David slipped further away. The compressions only seemed to rock David back and forth instead of making him breathe again. Matthew bit down on a cry of anger. He tried to keep his rhythm by humming “When the Saints Go Marching In,” but he couldn’t hold the beat. His arms felt like limp noodles. Beside him, Patton let out a thick sob.

  “Matthew, this isn’t going to work,” Wyatt said. “Your compressions aren’t working.”

  With a grunt, Matthew looked up at Wyatt. “Can you do better?” he demanded.

  “Yeah,” Wyatt said bluntly, but Matthew knew the Marine wasn’t being arrogant. “Let me.”

  “Okay,” Matthew said, even though it was the hardest thing he had ever done, and let Wyatt’s hands take over. He heard the quiet crunch of broken ribs on Wyatt’s first compressions, and Matthew knew Wyatt had been right. Matthew cursed himself as he slumped on the ground and Patton put a hand on his shoulder. Once again, Matthew had wasted a ton of time thinking that he knew what he was doing, and instead he only made things worse.

  The crunch of gravel came to his right. He looked up to see that Max and Jade had caught up with them. Jade seemed a touch better, despite her gunshot wound, but her face turned grave when she saw David. Max’s face was pinched with pain. Wyatt glanced up from his ministrations and barked at Jade, “Can you run?”

  Jade nodded. “I think so,” she said. “What do I need to do?”

  “I can run,” Max cut in and untangled himself from around Jade.

  “I’m faster,” Jade said smoothly, and Max’s mouth dropped in irritation, as if to say how would you know?

  “Run to the gun club as fast as you can,” Wyatt instructed. “Get Nikki. Tell her we need her. Right now. It’s life or death.”

  “Got it,” Jade said as she pressed a hand to her shoulder wound and took off down the side road leading to the gun club. She staggered a bit, but she disappeared quickly around the bend in the road. She was fast.

  Matthew let out a deep breath and tried to clear his head. Wyatt was hard at work keeping David alive, but there had to be something Matthew could do to help. The way David seemed so motionless, rocked by Wyatt’s chest compressions, made that building grief inside Matthew swell to the bursting point. He couldn’t let it overwhelm him. David still had a fighting chance. They would make it out of here alive and well, but if David was truly unconscious, there was no way they’d be able to haul him the rest of the way up the mountain without help.

  “Let’s build a stretcher,” Matthew said to Max and Patton. “We’ll need it for when Jade gets back with Nikki.”

  Matthew had no idea who Nikki was, but if Wyatt had sent for her, she must be skilled and could help. Right now, he trusted Wyatt to help him save his father, but Matthew wouldn’t let himself become a bystander. Useless.

  “How?” Max asked, looking around in exasperation. “How do we build a stretcher?”

  “Find some branches,” Matthew said, studying the huge pine trees surrounding them. “We can gather the fallen ones and lash them together. We need some strong boughs to create the frame, and then smaller ones that will bend and hold his weight. Ones that provide cushioning.”

  Patton nodded. “I’m on it, Dad.”

  They split up and each ducked into the woods. Matthew found some thick branches from a fallen tree that he dragged back to the main road. He broke off other, greener boughs with still-soft needles from younger trees. Others littered the ground, felled by either wind or animals. With his arms full, he carefully walked back to the road. When Patton and Max returned mere minutes later, they set their hauls on the ground. Together, they laid out the length of the frame and used some long, stringy grasses as rope. Unfortunately, the grass didn’t hold well, leaving their frame to collapse into bits.

  “Our shirts,” Patton said, stripping his off and tearing the material.

  “Good idea,” Matthew said. He unzipped his overcoat and used it to span the length of the frame, tying the arms to each end. Max handed Matthew his button-down, and soon enough, they had a frame fashioned out of clothes and branches, ready for David.

  All the while, Wyatt’s chest compressions kept a steady rhythm against David’s chest. Matthew closed his eyes briefly, his mind empty of anything except for that welling grief and the word, please.

  2

  Wyatt’s chest compressions seemed to go on for far too long. With help, Matthew edged the stretcher close to David. It was a little too short, and smelled of pine sap and sweat, but it would be wide enough to hold David, at least. Matthew paused for a moment, hoping for any indication that Wyatt would announce David could be moved. Or that he had started breathing again. Or that none of this was happening and it was all a dream.

  Wyatt didn’t look up. His attention was focused solely on the steady push against David’s chest. Though Wyatt was achieving the pressure and depth required, it had been a while. The implications made Matthew sway on his feet, dizzy with fear as his mind grasped for anything else he could do to help. But there were no operating hospitals or running cars. He couldn’t call anyone for help. He couldn’t find a place that could care for David. There was nothing he could do but wait and hope.

  Patton’s hand slipped into his. Matthew squeezed tightly and looked down at his son.

  “Wil
l Grandpa be okay?” Patton asked in a soft, wobbling voice.

  “I don’t know,” Matthew whispered back. He wished he could offer comfort, but this was one of his worst nightmares come true. He’d tried so hard for David not to have a second heart attack, and yet here they were. “I wish I knew if he was going to be okay, Patton, but I don’t.”

  Patton’s mouth thinned into a line, as though he were holding in his own fear and grief. Matthew put his arms around Patton’s shoulders and pulled him close. He might not have comforting words, but he could hold Patton and be strong for him in that way.

  The sound of feet pounding on the pavement made Matthew’s eyes snap away from David and Wyatt and up toward the road leading to the gun club. He could make out two shapes full-on running toward them. He recognized the swinging fringe of Jade’s jacket and the dark flip of her ponytail. The other short-statured woman he assumed must be Nikki. Matthew’s heart raced in anticipation. Whoever this Nikki lady was, he hoped she could help.

  When the women reached them, Nikki fell to her knees next to Wyatt without greeting him or asking what had happened. Her round cheeks were red with exertion as she took over for Wyatt. Wyatt leaned back with a sigh of relief, and Matthew noted that his hands were shaking. After a moment, Nikki leaned in as if to check on David’s breathing and then began mouth-to-mouth.