Unknown World: The EMP Survivor Series - Book 3

by Chris Pike

  John and Uncle Billy managed security for the house and for the neighborhood.

  Amanda used her gardening abilities to plant seasonal vegetables, and with Tatiana’s help they canned the vegetables the family was unable to consume.

  Neighbors came together and helped each other out by trading goods or services, and for those that had a working truck or car, forays into the city had become a dangerous necessity. More and more desperate survivors turned to the river and lake as a source of food and water. Sporadic gunshots echoed off the hills, interrupting the silence prevalent in the new world.

  On this particular night, the Chandler family was outside on the patio, playing a game of dominos. This time during the evening was the time the family rested and came together to talk about the day and what needed to be accomplished in the coming days.

  The bitter cold had been replaced by a temperate spring. The pecan trees were heavy with tender foliage, grass had greened, and the long winter had finally relinquished its hold on the land.

  Tatiana had made lemonade using lemons from the tree she had once cursed as producing too much fruit.

  Nipper had jumped into Amanda’s lap, pillowed into it, and put his head on his paws. She stroked him along his back and scratched him behind his ears.

  “Hun,” John said, “I think it’s time we turned in.”

  Tatiana yawned. “I’m getting sleepy too. Let’s head on up to bed. See everybody in the morning.”

  “Good night,” Amanda said.

  Uncle Billy stretched and agreed with his brother it was time to turn in.

  The younger generation—Amanda, Chandler, and Luke—stayed and talked a while.

  “I wonder how Kate is doing?” Luke said.

  “Mom’s been worried about her,” Chandler said. “When she’s in the kitchen she stares out the kitchen window. I know she’s looking for Kate.”

  “Mom and Dad have been talking about making a trip to San Antonio to try to find her,” Luke said. “They think she’s probably still at the Menger Hotel.”

  “If she’s still there, it’s probably by choice,” Chandler said.

  “Yeah, I pity whoever she’s with.” Luke laughed at the thought. “She can be as tough as a wildcat.”

  Chandler glanced at Amanda, who flicked her eyes to Luke. Her expression was one of It’s time for him to leave. Chandler shifted positions on the bench. “Luke, it is getting late. Aren’t you tired?”

  “Oh, bad timing again?”

  “You could say that.”

  “Okay, I get the message. I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.”

  “When you go in, be sure to put away the .357 you were cleaning on the dining room table. And bring me my Glock you cleaned,” Chandler said.

  “I’m not your gopher,” Luke grumbled. “I already put it on your bed. Some thanks I get. You get to clean the guns next time.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Chandler said waving him off. “Better not let Mom catch you messing up her house again. You know how she gets.”

  Luke harrumphed. He walked back into the house, knowing there was no way he was going to do any more work tonight, and if big brother wanted his gun, he’d have to get it himself. Luke was tired and wanted to go to bed. He’d put the .357 and cleaning supplies away first thing in the morning.

  Amanda and Chandler sat side by side at the picnic table. A breeze rustled the leaves of the pecan trees, and somewhere in the distance a cricket chirped. Stars twinkled in the night sky. They sat in silence, enjoying each other’s company.

  “It’s so dark,” Amanda said. “I wish we had more light.”

  “Our battery supply is getting low, and Dad has been bugging me about not using our flashlights unless we really need them. He definitely adheres to the ‘Work while there’s light’ saying’.”

  “I remember my grandpa saying that,” Amanda said. “I still miss him.”

  “I know you do. He was a great man. I wish I could have known him.” Chandler paused. “Amanda, I’m glad you stayed.”

  “Me too.” She held out her hand, inviting him to take it. He threaded his strong, warm fingers through hers then brought her hand to his lips. He kissed her fingers starting at the pinky, then to her ring finger until he kissed each one.

  “That tickles.” Amanda giggled.

  “Maybe one of these days I can tickle you all over.”

  Amanda smiled. “Promises, promises.”

  Nipper, who had been resting peacefully on Amanda’s lap, sat up. His ears were cocked and he was looking intently toward the river. He growled low in his throat then pushed off with his hind legs, leapt through the air, and bolted to the direction of the river’s edge.

  “Nipper! Stop!” Amanda yelled. Rising from the bench, she went to the edge of the yard and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Come back!” she hollered.

  “Don’t worry. He’ll be back,” Chandler said.

  “He can be such a bad dog,” Amanda said in exasperation. Although it was too dark to see Nipper, she could hear him scurrying and darting in and among the leaves and brush. He barked louder, strong warning barks.

  Chandler went to where Amanda was standing and wrapped his arms around her waist. Moonlight reflected off the quiet river, casting a glow onto her face.

  “Don’t worry about him. He’s okay.” Chandler leaned over and took her face in his hands and kissed her fully on the lips, a strong kiss filled with passion and want—the way a man should kiss a woman. He kissed her hungrily, greedily, without hesitation. Amanda responded and slid her hands to the small of his back.

  The heady interlude only lasted a moment when Nipper squealed a high-pitched vociferous bark.

  Amanda leaned away from Chandler. “Something must be wrong. He’s never made that noise before. I’ll be right back.”

  “Oh, no you don’t,” Chandler protested. “The last time you went looking for Nipper you got kidnapped and all hell broke loose. Stay here, and don’t move. I want to pick up where we left off.”

  Chandler flicked on his flashlight and carefully picked his way toward the river, dodging rocks and brush. Nipper kept barking. The flashlight beam jerkily bounced from place to place as Chandler searched for Nipper. A flash of white darting at the base of a pecan tree caught his eye and Chandler trotted in that direction.

  Nipper sat under a tree, he was panting and long strings of drool dripped from his mouth.

  “What’s wrong, boy? What’d ya find?”

  Nipper curled sideways and glanced back at Chandler. He panted heavily and his ruff was raised. His body posture was odd.

  Chandler flicked the flashlight at the tree then to the surrounding thick brush. “There’s nothing there, boy,” he said. He bent down to pet Nipper and to calm him. “There’s nothing—”

  The force of the impact knocked Chandler to the ground and caused him to lose his breath. It felt as if a hundred pound bag of flour had wacked him on the back, and he gasped to catch his breath. The flashlight had tumbled to the ground and rolled away, the beam disappearing into the darkness.

  Nipper snarled and snapped, darting back and forth.

  Chandler was face down on the ground and it took him a long second to regain his wits. He immediately reached for his Glock, but his arms wouldn’t move. Then he remembered Luke had put it on his bed. He opened his eyes to the horror that his arms were pinned by a massive python. Chandler threw his weight to the side, trying to loosen the death grip the large reptile had on him. He was vaguely aware he was perilously close to the river and a brief thought crossed his mind the reptile was trying to smother him then roll him into the river. He dug the heels of his boots into the dirt to stop the snake’s progress.

  Seconds of a life and death struggle passed between the two species—one a sentient being, the other a cold blooded reptile, where another life meant nothing, other than to satiate the animalistic need to eat.

  The reptile coiled tighter around its prey.

  Chandler’s breathing became labor
ed and he gasped shallow quick breaths.

  Nipper continued barking and darting, biting at the snake.

  “Somebody help me!” Chandler squeaked.

  The reptile had completely coiled around Chandler’s chest and neck, cutting off his ability to expand his lungs.

  Chandler blinked, and with one remaining breath he muttered, “Help.” The plea was weak and unbecoming to a voice that normally boomed. Air leaked out of his lungs and he tried to breathe, but his lungs were paralyzed. Stars appeared in his vision and consciousness waned. The branches of the tree above him swayed, reaching to him as if beckoning him skyward to something beyond, something unknown and out of his grasp. If only he could grab a limb to pull himself up; if only he had the strength to fight, but he was too weary, too tired.

  His eyelids fluttered and he finally closed his eyes and gave in to the overwhelming need to sleep. His last thought was of Amanda and the regret he had about being unable to tell her how he felt about her. A man who was known for his bravery on the battlefield, one who could expertly dispatch an enemy without so much as a blink of an eye, couldn’t tell the women he loved how he felt.

  That was the regret of his life.

  * * *

  Amanda remained at the edge of the yard as Chandler had instructed her. She had listened to Nipper’s incessant barking and Chandler’s pleading and increasingly annoyed calls to the dog. When they came back, she’d lock Nipper in the laundry room for the entire night. He had caused enough trouble. What a bad dog he was.

  After a minute had passed, it became obvious Chandler had stopped calling for the dog. The flashlight’s stationary beam worried her since she had seen the methodical search pattern Chandler had used earlier to try to locate Nipper. There was something odd going on. Nipper continued barking in a manner Amanda had never heard before. The odd barking and yelps sounded so…so painful, like he was trying to communicate something.

  That was it.

  Something must be wrong.

  “Chandler!” Amanda yelled. “Chandler! What’s going on?”

  She waited, listening.

  “Can you hear me?” Her pleas were met by Chandler’s silence and Nipper’s increasingly raucous barks.

  Her first instinct was to go to him, but without a weapon she could succumb to whatever Chandler and Nipper had found. She dashed into the house and searched for a weapon. There, on the dining room table was the .357 magnum Luke had been cleaning after dinner. She picked it up and quickly determined it was loaded, bolted out of the house, across the patio, and half tumbled, half slid down the embankment leading to the river.

  She came upon a scene so disturbing she froze. A python had coiled around Chandler, who was as still and white as a corpse. The resigned expression on his face shocked her.

  Nipper kept barking.

  “God help me,” Amanda whispered.

  She retrieved the flashlight, shined it on the massive reptile, and searched for its head. Beady eyes glowed red in the flashlight beam. It was now or never. She aimed and fired. The single well-placed shot obliterated the head of the python.

  Nipper flinched when scales and skin hit him on the face. Step by cautious step he went to the snake and sniffed, curious about the lifeless reptile. It smelled of the lake and of the animals it had eaten. He flicked his tongue and tasted the bloody body. He found it neither repulsive nor revolting, only something to be filed away in his brain for future use.

  Working quickly Amanda struggled to uncoil the snake’s muscles that had yet to retract. Mustering strength she didn’t know she had, she loosened the hold the reptile had on Chandler’s head and chest. She heaved him onto his stomach and uncoiled the snake at the same time, repeating the action until Chandler was free.

  Nipper sat to the side, panting.

  Amanda put her index and middle finger to Chandler’s neck. There was no pulse.

  “Don’t die on me! You hear me Christopher Chandler!”

  She crisscrossed her hands and placed them on his chest. Stiff-arming, she used all her upper body strength and compressed his chest thirty times in quick succession. She moved to his head, tilted it back to clear his airway. She pinched his nose shut, inhaled as deeply as she could, sealed her lips around his, and blew into his mouth.

  She looked for his chest rising. It did, so she gave him another rescue breath, and waited for him to breathe normally.

  When he did not breathe on his own, she compressed his chest thirty more times and breathed into his mouth.

  She waited. Nothing happened.

  She cycled CPR another time.

  Minutes passed as she continued cycling. Her muscles burned from the strain.

  Sweat dripped off of her forehead.

  Nipper sat to the side, watching, confused.

  She did CPR one last cycle and waited for him to breathe normally.

  She had failed. She sat back and sobbed openly. The tears came rushing out, blurring her vision.

  Nipper padded to Chandler and cocked his head. He gingerly pawed and waited for a reaction. Perhaps a verbal reply or a hand gesture acknowledging his presence.

  He pawed again, then barked at the man and waited for him to wake.

  The man was not dead, yet he was not alive, and curiosity overcame Nipper. He licked Chandler on the cheek, warm, thoughtful licks tasting the man he had come to respect, one he had come to know as Amanda’s partner. Their bond was unmistakable and Nipper had seen it in the way he spoke to her, the way he looked at her.

  Nipper licked more, tasting the man’s aura, his very being, the life that made him the strong and confident man he was. Nipper stepped away, knowing his efforts had failed. His ears flopped down and a feeble expression captured him. The struggle between man and reptile had been brutal and Nipper had been powerless to help.

  Turning away from Chandler, Nipper sensed Amanda’s emotional turmoil. She had collapsed on the ground and curled into a fetal position, sobbing. Nipper did as he had done many times before and leaned into her and put his head on her lap to comfort her. He nudged her hand with his wet nose until he elicited a response. Hesitantly, she rested her hand on his head, stroking him between his eyes then stroked him along the ruff of his back, taking comfort in her pet’s loyalty and compassion.

  * * *

  Amanda looked like Chandler had always imagined. She was next to him in bed, her soft pale skin flush against his. Waves of her thick hair cascaded over her shoulders. They were under the sheets, and she playfully tickled him by running her finger over his chest.

  Music played in the background, something tantalizing, capturing the moment, something he hadn’t heard before. Then they were doing a tango or some other dance he was normally clumsy at. Yet his feet flew over the dance floor as if he was meant to dance, as if he had done the dance all his life. He held her tight against him and they moved in tandem, expertly, sensually.

  She wore a slinky black dress made of exotic material and patterned with bright scarlet roses.

  It was like they were in a vacuum, only the two of them. No one else mattered. Nothing else mattered. His hands explored her body and he brought her close to him and kissed her fully on the lips.

  A dog barked close to his ear, interrupting the heady moment. After a while the barking abated and he went back to Amanda. They were back in bed, between the cool sheets. He went to move—

  The damn barking starting again and the loudest gunshot he had ever heard made his eardrums ring.

  He felt like he was suffocating. His head pounded and his eardrums rang.

  Something pressed down hard on his chest. It was Amanda leaning over him. He felt lightheaded and had a strange sensation of his chest being compressed. What the hell was she doing with the hands he had dreamed of being wrapped around him? She had pinned him down and he couldn’t move. So this was how she wanted to play? He never imagined she was like this, and if he was her playground, he’d ask if she wanted the bars or the merry-go-round.

  In a flash they w
ere back in bed and she laughed and said something he didn’t understand.

  Then something wet and warm licked his face and at first he thought it was Amanda until he got a whiff of dog breath. Damn dog. He tried to shoo away the dog, but his arms wouldn’t move.

  There she was again on top of him. He pulled her closer, her lips on his and she was unapologetically wanting him.

  But his lips hurt, and his chest felt odd, burning for a breath.

  He wanted to tell her to stop because he needed to breathe. She was heavier than he thought and suffocating him. Her lips had an airlock on his. He needed her to get off him.

  He needed to breathe.

  When he tried to speak, the words wouldn’t form.

  Finally, she moved off him, and the weight on his chest dissipated. There, that was better.

  Chandler took a small breath, then another, until the effort became so natural it was unnoticed. The air had never felt so clean and new, and his lungs no longer burned. His hand went to his chest and he rubbed it. He had on a shirt and thought that was strange. He must have fallen asleep and had been dreaming about Amanda.

  The struggle to open his eyes required a herculean effort, like he was drugged or something. Maybe he was just tired. Yes, that was it. He blinked his eyes open and the magnificent sky of twinkling stars of the Milky Way came into focus. For a few minutes he stared in wonder at the glorious sight.

  Amanda was next to him, shivering. She was crying and had curled into a little ball. Maybe she was cold. He gently put his arm around her, pushing Nipper out of the way. She didn’t even notice.

  “Amanda,” he said, “why are you crying?”

  She catapulted up and stared at him with an odd mixture of relief and frustration. Her face was flushed and she swiped her hand beneath both eyes.

  “Are you okay?” Chandler asked, propping himself up on his elbows.

  “You’re alive?”

  “Huh? Of course I’m alive.”

  Amanda burst out crying.

  “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

  “Don’t you remember?” she managed to ask between sobs.