Staying Alive
A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller - The EMP Book 2
Ryan Westfield
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
About Ryan Westfield
Copyright © 2017 by Ryan Westfield
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Any resemblance to real persons living or dead is purely coincidental. All characters and events are products of the author’s imagination.
1
Georgia
Georgia peered through the scope of her hunting rifle. There was a doe right in the crosshairs. It looked like it had some fat on it, which was good because food was scarce these days. Eating pure protein could kill you, and eating fat gave you more calories. That meant surviving longer.
It had only been two weeks since they’d arrived at the farmhouse, but their supplies were dwindling rapidly. They hadn’t brought that much food with them. And there were six of them to feed. The canned food they’d found in the basement had turned out to be bad. Bacteria had gotten in.
Georgia’s finger was on the trigger. She was about to squeeze it when she heard a noise off to her right.
She was already frozen, but she felt her muscles tense up with the sound. It was an eerie sound, too far away to tell what it was. It was slight, barely audible. The only thing she knew was that it didn’t sound like an animal. It didn’t sound like something natural. From all the time she’d spent hunting throughout her life, Georgia was well aware of the normal sounds of the forest.
There was another sound. This time it sounded like laughter. Human laughter.
Georgia’s heart pounded in her chest. She didn’t want to admit it even to herself, but she was scared. Perhaps terrified.
This was what they’d been fearing: other groups moving into the area. It had been two weeks since the EMP, and while many must have perished in the cities, there were certainly plenty who had survived. And now they’d be doing what was only natural and heading out into the rural areas. They’d be looking for food, space, and security.
And the ones who made it out of the cities would be the strongest, smartest, and most heavily armed. They posed the biggest threat to those who lived in the farmhouse.
Georgia was lying flat on her stomach, and she tried to make herself lie even flatter. Fortunately, she was wearing camo hunting gear, and she blended fairly well into the surrounding woods. She hadn’t worn anything orange. Leaving for this hunting trip, she’d been well aware of the possibility of running into someone else. That was why she didn’t want anyone else to come with her. The more people, the greater the risk of getting discovered.
For now, the safest thing for everyone in the farmhouse seemed to be to try to remain undiscovered.
But that would only work for so long.
The farmhouse was back quite a ways from the road. And the geography of the area made it difficult to discover accidentally while hiking through the woods.
Difficult, but not impossible. In fact, maybe it was easier than they’d assumed.
After all, there was that trail that Max, Mandy, Georgia, Chad, and Georgia’s children had taken.
Sooner or later, someone would come along.
And that someone, or someones, would pose the biggest threat to their survival.
Now it looked like that time had come.
Georgia waited, frozen, trying to keep her breathing as silent as possible.
Soon, she heard footsteps and voices. They were moving towards her, whoever they were.
By the sounds, she guessed there were three or four of them. She could identify three distinct voices. They were male voices, harsh and loud. But she couldn’t yet make out what they were saying.
Would they pass right by Georgia?
Her hiding spot was good, behind a rotten old log over which she held her rifle, but it wasn’t good enough to conceal her if they were going to pass right by her.
The trees with their full green leaves blocked the men from Georgia’s view.
Their footsteps were getting louder. Soon, she could hear their conversation.
“Did you see the look on his face?” one of the men said. His voice was callous and had a cruel tone to it.
“Damn, I’ve never seen someone like that. He should have taken it like a man.”
“He was crying the whole time.”
The men laughed.
“I hit him right between the eyes.”
“It was a good shot, but I would have done better.”
“How could it get any better than right between the eyes? Haven’t you ever seen any movies?”
Georgia’s mind was moving a mile a minute. These men sounded like cold-blooded murderers. And here they were, celebrating the pain and suffering they had caused. Part of her fear was turning to disgust.
Georgia was strong, and while she feared for the safety of her children, she wasn’t going to let it overtake her. She would do what she had to do, whatever that was.
She could see the men now.
There were three of them, walking in a single file line through the woods. It seemed as if they’d pass by Georgia, but not run directly into her. With a little luck, they wouldn’t spot her.
The three wore an assortment of clothing and gear. Judging by their conversation, Georgia guessed that they’d taken gear from their victims, slowly assembling their hodgepodge outfits.
One had a crude tattoo visible on his neck. Maybe it was a prison tattoo.
Two men had assault rifles. One was definitely an AR-15, with a scope on it. The other looked like an AK-47 knockoff, cheap and crude but still quite lethal. The third man had a handgun in a holster.
They outnumbered her. And they had considerably more firepower.
And it was too late to run. If she got up, they’d see her. Judging by their conversation, they weren’t going to simply want to make friends. They weren’t going to want to chat about the end of the world. They were, like everyone else, looking to survive, by whatever means necessary.
Georgia had a feeling that these men had survived so far by simply being crueler, and willing to take their “whatever means necessary” farther than most.
“I’m starving,” said one of them, speaking loudly. He had a buzzed haircut and a gaunt face. “We’re going to have to find someone with food soon. I’m tired of the food we’ve got.”
“Maybe we can have some fun while we’re at it,” said his comp
anion.
“Don’t we always?”
The third one didn’t speak, but just laughed deeply. It was an ominous sort of chuckle, low and rumbly.
With any luck, they wouldn’t see Georgia.
But they were headed in the direction of the farmhouse. If they kept heading that way, it’d be almost impossible for them to miss it.
Georgia knew that someone would be on watch. When she had left, it had been Chad.
She just hoped that he’d kept his eyes open.
2
Max
Max’s leg was still hurting him, but he was doing better. Mandy kept telling him not to expect too much. After all, it had only been two weeks. “You’re doing better than most people who’ve been shot,” she’d said. “You got really lucky.”
The bullet hadn’t hit the bone. It’d been a good bullet wound, as far as bullet wounds went.
To everyone’s surprise, including Max’s, he was starting to hobble around the house with the aid of a makeshift cane. If the bullet wound had been anything more than minor, walking simply wouldn’t have been possible for many more weeks, in the best circumstances. Still, it was incredible. He’d been lucky.
Max had been taking antibiotics to ward off a possible infection, and Georgia and Mandy had even helped him pack sugar into the wound. Sugar was an old trick used by field doctors when supplies ran short, and it worked well enough, sometimes even better than anything else.
“How you doing?” said Mandy, knocking on the already open bedroom door.
Max motioned for her to come in.
“What are you doing?” said Mandy. “You need to be in bed, resting.”
“Exercises,” said Max.
His face was sweaty with exertion. It took all his concentration to push beyond the pain. He was attempting body weight squats, an exercise that had never been harder for him.
“You need to be resting that leg,” said Mandy. “If you want it to heal properly.”
“This isn’t the time for laying around in bed,” said Max. “I need to be up and active as soon as possible.”
“I don’t know what you’re so worried about,” said Mandy. “Except for that body, we haven’t seen anyone. You keep saying that people are coming, but no one ever does.”
“Trust me,” said Max, finishing his squat and nearly collapsing into a nearby chair. “They’re coming. And the longer we wait without seeing anyone, the more intense the chaos in the cities must have been. Only the strongest…”
“Will get out alive… yeah, yeah,” said Mandy. “You’ve said it a million times.”
Tensions had been growing between Max and Mandy over the last two weeks. What had initially seemed like a budding romance had quickly imploded under the intense tensions inherent in the situation.
“What did you want to see me about?” said Max.
“It’s the well,” said Mandy. “There’s no more water.”
“What do you mean there’s no more water?”
“I mean exactly what I said. It’s simply not coming out.”
Max didn’t say anything. He’d been fearing this. Over the last week, the water had been looking murkier and murkier. And a day earlier, the water had been so off-color that they’d decided it would be best to purify it before drinking it.
“What are we going to do?” said Mandy. “The kids are worried.”
Max nodded. “They should be worried,” he said. “And to answer your question, I don’t know yet.”
“How can you say they should be worried? They’re just kids. We need to protect them.”
“There’s no protecting them from what’s happening,” said Max. “At least not in the sense of shielding them from the reality around them.”
Mandy didn’t say anything. She simply frowned more than usual.
“I’m going to go check on the well,” said Max.
He got up, somewhat painfully, from the chair. He hobbled past Mandy, who stared him down with her arms crossed in front of her.
Max weaved his way through the hallways of the old farmhouse. Even in the day, the hallways were dark. The wallpaper was peeling in places, and some of the floorboards were loose.
The stairs were tricky, but Max managed them.
As long as he kept using his leg, thought Max, he’d be recovered in no time. He didn’t like to think about what would have happened if it had been a more serious injury. Max was sure that he himself needed to be active. He felt responsible for the others—without Max, they would be lost.
Max had set up a watch schedule. Max, Mandy, Georgia, Chad, James, and Sadie all took turns. Mandy had protested about including James and Sadie in the watch schedule, but everyone else was on board. Georgia was protective of her kids, but she recognized, unlike Mandy, that the better they were at taking care of themselves, the longer they’d survive.
James and Sadie were resting in the living room, their eyes barely open. Each lay on a separate couch, tired from their early morning watch shifts.
Max walked past them without greeting them. Better to let them rest.
Outside, the sun was shining brightly. A gentle breeze blew through the leaves of the trees. The grass was a brilliant green, and the forest beyond the farmhouse’s lot looked inviting and peaceful.
But Max knew better than to be fooled by appearances.
Mandy seemed to think that everything was fine now that they were at the farmhouse. She’d thought all they had to do was figure out the drinking water situation, start growing their own food, maybe find a few animals, and everything would be fine.
Max knew better.
He knew people would be coming. The most vicious of the vicious. Those were the only ones who would be making their way in this direction. Sure, there’d be others, people like Max and Mandy. There were sure to be decent people who had survived.
The trouble would be figuring out who was who.
So far, there’d been no contact.
Georgia had come across one dead body in the woods. A man in his early fifties, gaunt with the muscle wasting that came with starvation. On first glance, he’d apparently died of pure exhaustion. But on closer inspection, Georgia had noticed that he was full of what looked like stab wounds. He’d simply bled out. Georgia had brought James and Chad back to the body, and they’d buried the man in a shallow grave.
“How’s it going up there?” said Max, looking up towards the roof.
Chad sat on the roof. They’d decided on the second day, when Max was still in bed, that the roof gave the best vantage point. Mandy and James had rigged up a piece of twine that ran down from the roof to a bell inside the house. That way, whoever was on watch on the roof could pull on the twine and give a warning to anyone inside.
Chad was still huge, but he was already looking leaner. He got the same amount of food as everyone else. To his credit, he was toughening up considerably, now that he was sober. He rarely ever complained about the food or the portion sizes.
Chad gave Max the thumbs up sign. It wasn’t like they could have an easy conversation from up on the high roof to down where Max was.
Max stood there, enjoying the sun, while trying to think about what they were going to do for water. Soon, he’d go inspect the well, but he didn’t expect to find much there. If the well was drying up, he didn’t know what they’d be able to do about it. Their best bet was to get water from a nearby creek, and then purify it if they could.
But the whole plan meant a lot of work, and it meant exposing themselves more to a potential attack. The creek was a good twenty minute walk. It meant potentially giving away their position to someone who happened to be walking by.
The sound of a bell reached Max through his veil of deep thoughts.
At first, Max thought maybe he was hearing things.
No, it was definitely the bell, the sound faint and muffled, coming from inside the farmhouse.
Max looked up to see Chad turned around, facing the other direction. He faced towards the road, which was a
good distance from the farmhouse. A long dirt driveway wound its way from the road to the farmhouse. While Max had been recovering in bed, the rest of them had done their best to disguise the driveway’s entrance. They hoped that someone coming down the road wouldn’t notice it, but merely drive right on by.
“What’s going on?” said James. He still had sleep in his eyes as he came down the porch steps. Sadie followed him. “Is everyone all right?”
Max looked up at Chad, who turned to face him.
“Car,” mouthed Chad, as clearly as he could.
“Looks like Chad’s spotted a car,” said Max.
“What do we do?” said James. There was worry in his voice.
“Where are your guns?” said Max, looking James and Sadie up and down. He spoke to them harshly. But there was a reason for his tone. They were supposed to carry their rifles with them everywhere, no matter what. Max had told them a thousand times that they were lucky their mother had had such a large quantity of guns. And those guns would likely save their lives one day. This wasn’t the time for sloppiness.
“We were just coming out to see…” said Sadie, trying to make an excuse.
“We’ll get them,” said James, cutting off his sister.
Sadie’s expression turned to embarrassment and shame. They both knew how important following the rules was.
“It’s coming down the driveway,” said Chad, turning over his shoulder to speak to Max.
So much for their efforts to conceal the driveway.
Max could hear the car now. He could hear its engine whining softly. It sounded like a regular civilian car. It didn’t have that heavy rumbling of a large truck. That was a good sign, but it didn’t mean they were safe.
Anyone could be driving that car.
This was the moment Max had been waiting for and dreading. The worst part about it was that he wasn’t yet in fighting form. He was still hobbled, injured, and partially broken.
But that didn’t mean he was going to give up.
He knew he could still put up a hell of a fight.
Max reached for his Glock in its belt holster. The weight of the gun felt reassuring as he removed it from its holster. He kept his finger outside the trigger guard. Just because society had collapsed didn’t mean he wasn’t going to follow basic gun safety. The last thing they needed was another gunshot victim.
Staying Alive: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller (The EMP Book 2) Page 1
