Fight Like a Man: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (The SHTF Series Book 1)

by L. L. Akers

  She shrieked again, loud and long, and raced after them. “No! No! No!” Blindly, she raced through the dark woods with one arm out in front of her, slapping away the branches and brush. Here, the trees were spread apart more.

  “Don’t run! It’ll catch you!” she screamed, knowing they probably couldn’t hear her.

  Climb a tree Climb a tree Climb a tree

  That was the last thought she had before darkness over took her.

  22

  The Ladies

  Gabby patted the bandage on her head and silently thanked her husband once more. She promised herself if they made it home, she’d pay more attention to the details of prepping, and less attention to her passion for shooting. Now she realized there was more to being prepared than learning how to shoot a gun and spending time at the range. She and her sisters were barely more prepared than the average sheeple—as Grayson called them.

  Quickly she thought about all their mistakes so far. None of them had the right clothes for an emergency hike down the road; they were wearing summer shorts for Pete’s sake. Olivia didn’t have any walking shoes. They had one small bug-out bag. More of a Get-Home bag really. She wasn’t familiar with what was in that bag beforehand. Everything should have been tested before an emergency. She wasn’t even sure if the Sawyer filter had ever been used before or if they’d done it right—were they supposed to clean it before using it? Was she supposed to use another filter before drinking it? Filter it twice? She had no idea; she’d faked it earlier because she was too thirsty to figure it out. It was still possible they could all end up squatting for hours later for all she knew. And that would be her fault, too. Also, they hadn’t kept the gas tank topped off. She was sure there were many more mistakes and Grayson would be sorely disappointed in all of them before it was over.

  She was just thankful her other half had been listening to Grayson when he stressed the importance of an emergency pack. Jake didn’t care much for shooting, but he’d obviously took the whole prepping thing more serious than she had. He’d come through in the end as the half of their marriage that saved the day, just by packing that small bag.

  The first aid kit had come in handy again, especially the sterile alcohol wipes, antibiotic cream, and the roll of bandage. When she’d first opened her eyes to find Olivia, Emma and Mei staring at her, she’d forgotten where she was, and who the strange Asian girl was. It’d taken her a minute to assure herself she wasn’t dreaming. Her sisters were alive, well, and in one piece. She took another few minutes to get on her feet and find her bearings.

  The sow had run right past her sisters, who’d heard it—or something—coming and had all jumped up on a huge rock, clutching each other. They’d watched it run past in a blur followed by a litter of babies. They’d called out to Gabby that they were okay but in her frenzied state, she hadn’t heard them.

  She’d flown through the trail directly into disaster, tripping over a root and knocking herself out. Now she and Olivia would be twins again, both having nearly identical cuts and bumps on their heads.

  They’d also put salve on Mei’s burn and wrapped it, much to her indifference.

  Back on the trail nearly an hour now, they were exhausted. They’d all thought they were in great shape with their hot yoga, exercise dance classes, and daily walks. But the uneven terrain and long, steady pace was different than flittering around on a gym floor or walking through the neighborhood.

  Their ankles, feet, and hips ached. Their arms and legs were scratched and bleeding. Gabby’s lungs felt abused and even her hands hurt; they stung where she'd stumbled several times since knocking herself out, falling and catching herself on her hands in the dark. Her balance was gone. Her head swam with pain. She and Olivia probably both had concussions.

  The sow had badly spooked them and slowed their pace by more than half. None of them knew anything about wild hogs. Would it chase them? Would it hunt them? They’d all seen stories of wild boar getting up to three hundred pounds and running thirty miles per hour. But regardless of their fear, they had to keep moving. To keep the fear at bay, they whispered while they walked. Mostly about what was in those other two bug-out bags back at Grayson and Olivia’s house… more water? A tent? A sleeping bag?

  If only Olivia hadn’t taken them out of the car, they might be setting up a camp right now to lay down and have a rest.

  In Gabby’s bag, they had found cinnamon candies to suck on while digging for first aid supplies, and they’d eaten nearly the whole bag as they walked, giving them some vigor, as well as fixing their stale breath, and keeping their hunger at bay.

  Quietly, they crept through the woods. A few steps…then stop. Listen. More walking…then stopping…listening to be sure nothing was chasing them. When they thought they heard a noise behind them, they’d run like hell until they were far beyond or in front of it.

  It was an on again, off again merry-go-round of panic, especially for Mei.

  Finally, they were out of the woods and were on open ground. The clouds had cleared to allow the full moon the stage, giving them more light than they’d seen in hours.

  Gabby ignored the begging to stop for the night until she too couldn’t take another step. She dropped her pack and flopped to the ground, leaning against the trunk of a lone tree in exhaustion.

  “My feet,” Olivia said in a rush of breath, joining her on the ground. “I don’t think I’ll be able to walk again tomorrow, Gabby. They hurt.”

  “You can. You will. We don’t have a choice.”

  Seriously?

  What did Olivia think Gabby and Emma’s feet felt like? Or Mei’s? Even with a well-fitted, broken-in pair of running shoes, Gabby’s feet ached so badly that she wasn’t even sure it was pain anymore. The pleasure of getting off of them conflicted with the ache from walking, making her giddy with relief. But her rest was short-lived. She had to get up again, keep moving. Or she’d be done for the night.

  They needed a fire. A real fire this time. It was too spooky out here to sleep in the dark, and a fire might keep predators away. She hoped.

  Sighing, she pulled herself up to scrape out a spot, while Emma attempted to gather branches for kindling.

  “I’ll help. Just give me a minute,” Olivia offered. Gabby looked at her sister, seeing more than pain on her face. Olivia was exhausted. She was clearly weaker than anyone in the group and she’d walked, and ran, all this way in faulty flip-flops, and her feet looked really bad for it. Even in the moonlight, Gabby could see they were crisscrossed in bloody scratches from their trek through the woods.

  “No, we got it. You take it easy.”

  Olivia didn’t put up an argument. Instead, she pulled off her shoes and rubbed her feet. Emma wandered close by, gathering twigs, and muttering about hating squats as she struggled to dip and bend to pick up each stick. She was in better shape than any of them, yet she too was ready to drop. They were all hot, tired and cranky.

  Mei seemed to wander around in a circle, not doing much of anything except shaking, muttering and scratching at her arms—even the one without the newly-burned brand. Finally, Gabby saw her pull something from her small purse and continue her pacing.

  As Mei passed by, Gabby caught a glimpse in the moonlight. It was a picture of a little girl no more than one year old. Tiny black pigtails with red ribbons adorned her head and she proudly displayed dimples next to a nearly toothless smile.

  “Who’s that, Mei? Is that your little girl?” Gabby asked.

  Mei stopped and held the picture up to her face, staring as though she’d never seen it before. She muttered something incoherent and walked away, mumbling to herself.

  Gabby exchanged concerned looks with her sisters and they let it go.

  Ten minutes later, Gabby was squatting next to the small pile of kindling. Emma didn’t find much. The tree they were under seemed to be the only tree nearby. Everything was green, and they were afraid to move out too far. Each piece they’d found had been hard-earned and their fire wouldn’t be
lasting long. Gabby carefully stacked them and struck the lighter repeatedly.

  The fire wouldn’t take hold.

  She cursed, and tried again and again. She cussed and sucked her tender thumb. The lighter was too hot. She changed hands and struck it again. Still, no fire.

  Emma and Olivia sat quietly watching her. They didn’t have much experience with campfires either. The guys always took care of that. Mei sat off by herself with her arms wrapped around her bent knees, rocking and humming to music only she could hear, apparently.

  In exasperation, Gabby snatched her backpack. She furiously dug through it, looking for something—anything—to burn better. She pulled out a stretchy band with a square attached to it.

  “Omigod. Look!”

  It was a headlamp.

  They’d walked all this way through the woods and the night, stumbling blindly, and all this time there’d been a flashlight. She rolled her eyes at her stupidity.

  Clearly, they needed to take the time to really go through her pack.

  She dug further and found a prescription bottle. Turning on the head lamp, she read the word “fire” written in red Sharpie around it. She turned it and read the rest of the word, “…starter.”

  The bottle contained sticky cotton balls. Gabby smelled one and smiled. “Petroleum jelly,” she told the girls. She tucked one under the tinder and struck the lighter again.

  It lit.

  She looked up with a smile. “Who’s cooking? I started the fire.”

  Olivia’s deadpan face told Gabby she’d rather go hungry than attempt to drum up enough energy to cook. And Emma didn’t cook, even in the best of times. Mei looked down at her feet.

  “What are we going to cook over?” Emma asked.

  “The fire,” Gabby answered. “Duh.”

  “No, I mean, we don’t have a rack. Only a cup. You going to just stick it in the fire?”

  Gabby dropped her head. Emma was right. She hadn’t even thought about it. There was probably some super-simple way to rig up a rack to hang the cup from, or set the cup on over the fire, but she didn’t have the brainpower to figure it out this late. Another thing we aren’t prepared for.

  She sighed and pulled out a tiny rocket stove. “Here, start a tiny fire in this, too.” She handed it to Emma. It was lightweight and only big enough to hold one cup, but one cup was all they had anyway. “You’ll need some small twigs or pinecones. You can break them up and stick them in there to burn. We still needed a campfire out here though. It’s too dark.”

  While Emma attempted to put the little stove together with light from the campfire, Gabby dug again into the backpack. “Okay, there’s two pouches of Mountain House Freeze-dried meals. We’ve got chili mac with beef or lasagna. I can’t handle either one of these without access to a bathroom. Thanks, Jake,” she grumbled. “Oh wait, here’s an envelope of Lipton noodle soup mix. That’s only enough for one of—”

  “—then you better shut up before you end up having to feed the whole damn neighborhood,” a deep, gruff voice interrupted.

  Gabby threw herself backward, landing on her rump in the dirt and scooting away from the voice—also scooting away from her gun that she’d taken out of her pants so she could relax against the tree for a moment.

  “Who the hell are you?” she yelled.

  Olivia and Emma scrambled in a crabwalk across the grass the few feet they needed to get to Gabby, where they all huddled together.

  Mei froze in place, staring up at the stranger with an open mouth.

  “I’d ask you the same, but I don’t give a damn. I’d have just rolled over and gone to sleep, except the missus insisted I come out here and check on you girls.”

  “Missus?” Gabby asked in confusion. “Where is she? Where did you come from? What do you want?”

  “From the farmhouse, just across the field over there,” he said as he pointed into the darkness. “Voices travel out here, especially now that the lights are out. I heard y’all as soon as you stepped into my field. You need to work on your sneak-skills.”

  “We weren’t sneaking. We didn’t know we were in your field. We didn’t know we were even in a field. We’ll leave,” Gabby snapped. She stared the old man in the eye, after appraising his overalls, rubber boots fit for chicken-coop poop-scooping and John Deere cap. The bill was bent and frayed and short tufts of white hair stuck out the sides.

  Regardless of his age, he was strong. His broad shoulders framed a rather fit looking torso, and his arms were corded with hard-earned muscle. He wore a red T-shirt under his overalls and Gabby could just make out the acronym: MAGA.

  Make America Great Again.

  His wrinkled face scowled through the scraggly lines and whiskers. He didn’t look the friendly sort.

  With a big foot and a frustrated kick, he sent dirt over their fire, immediately squashing it. “Not only are you too loud, but you’re advertising your spot out here with this fire. I can’t leave you girls out here tonight. The missus won’t let me. She’s afraid something is gonna get ya, and trust me, there’s plenty of varmints out here tonight that would and could.”

  A chill ran down Gabby’s spine. She couldn’t see much past six feet with the limited moonlight. Was someone—or something—watching them now?

  The old man jerked his head toward the direction he’d appeared from. “Come with me. I’d rather deal with three whining city girls than deal with y’all's dead bodies and told-you-so’s from the wife in the morn’. You girls can sleep in the house tonight.”

  He stomped off, fully expecting them to follow.

  They didn’t disappoint him.

  23

  Graysie

  Graysie ran her tongue over her gritty teeth and revved her engine. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. No one had come to let her out of the car parking lot; the gates were still closed. Eventually, she’d fallen asleep and slept all night and half the morning. She should’ve been sleeping in her car since the power went out. Smelled better out here and she felt safe cocooned in Sally.

  But she was still stuck. The only way to get out of here now was to drive through the gate.

  She shrugged. She’d seen it on TV a million times. She could do this.

  She centered her car up in front of the gap and stepped on the gas, gaining a lot of speed in a short amount of pavement and barreling toward the small opening between the gates. Her dad was going to kill her when he saw Sally—her car. This was definitely going to leave a mark, as he liked to say.

  She sped the short distance and at the last minute squinted her eyes. “Gird your loins, girl,” she whispered, again, something else her daddy liked to say.

  Metal screamed and Graysie flinched, waiting for her seatbelt to slam into her as her car was ripped to a stop.

  But it didn’t.

  In complete astonishment to her, she actually did it! The mustang rammed through the gates, throwing them wide open, but leaving them bent as they waved and bounced back in fury. She gave her best rebel yell as she braked heavily to make the turn and screeched around the corner.

  Her spirits lifted. Home was only a little over an hour away. If she’d made it this far, she could make it there alone. She’d be there soon.

  To her surprise, it was clear all the way to the interstate and down the access ramp to I-77. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think the college administration had made everything up. Other than no moving traffic, everything looked normal.

  So far.

  But once on the interstate, she ran into problems only minutes later. She was coming up on both lanes mostly blocked by stalled cars. Some were wrecked into the others. As she got closer she saw there was an opening, but a crowd of people were walking, blocking the one clear side of the road.

  Hearing her engine, they turned as one and watched her approach. She slowed when she was within fifty feet of them and grabbed her gun that she’d laid in the seat beside her. Slowly, she rolled up to them and beeped the horn.

  The b
ulk of the crowd moved to the side, but three men stood their ground, one holding his hand up in the air in a ‘stop’ motion, and the other two waving their arms.

  Graysie rolled her window all the way up and creeped forward a bit further.

  “Get out of the way,” she yelled through the windshield, sure they could hear her or at least get the point, punctuated by her brandishing her gun back at them.

  The two guys who were waving dove out of her way without need of a second warning. The third guy ran toward the car, weaving around the front to run toward her door. He was dirty and desperate, and not someone she would have stopped for even in the best of circumstances.

  Her heart bounced in fear as she goosed the gas and left him standing there chasing wind.

  She breathed a sigh of relief when the road was mostly clear for the next ten miles, other than a few stragglers walking in groups of two or three, who didn’t have the energy to try to stop her. They merely moved aside when they heard her coming, not even bothering to turn around. She slowed when passing them and glanced at their hopeless gait, then sped up a long hill, gaining speed all the way toward a bridge that crossed the river.

  The top of the bridge disappeared as the hill grew steeper before it crossed the water and she hoped it was clear on the other side. If she maintained this sort of speed, she’d be home tonight. She could’ve kicked herself for not leaving days ago. She could’ve been home right now.

  Her mind drifted to home as the road bent out of sight ahead, arcing into the sky.

  She could barely wait to see her dad, and Ozzie. Her entire family would be a welcome sight. Hopefully, her dad knew what was going on; why the phones weren’t working and the power wasn’t back on yet. She swallowed hard as she realized he may have news that she didn’t want to hear.

  The road in front of her disappeared into the remains of a blue sky as she zoomed closer to topping the hill. Her visibility was abruptly cut off at the top of the bridge. She held her breath, hoping her luck hadn’t run out.