Staying Alive: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller (The EMP Book 2)

by Ryan Westfield

  Chad got behind the wheel, and the rest clambered inside. The van technically seated eight, and there were six of them. The remaining seat, the one in the back right, Chad had piled high with gear. He’d stuffed things under the seats, and in the foot spaces. He’d put knives in the glove box and bandages in the pockets behind the seat. Everything was completely disorganized, a necessity of trying to fit it all in.

  Chad closed the door behind him, his hand reaching for the keys which had been left on the dash. He suddenly realized that there was a small chance that the van wouldn’t start. He didn’t know why, but he had a horrible anxious feeling in his solar plexus, a tightness that would barely let him breathe—what if the van didn’t start?

  “What are you waiting for?” came Mandy’s voice from the behind him.

  “Let’s get a move on it,” said Georgia, in the passenger seat.

  Max was in the way back, his eyes seemingly glazed over with pain. James and Sadie were completely silent. They seemed just as nervous as Chad.

  Chad turned the keys.

  The engine started.

  He didn’t yet breathe a sigh of relief, though.

  “There they are,” said Mandy, her voice rising in terror.

  Chad looked off towards the woods.

  Half a dozen figures or so were emerging from the trees. He couldn’t get a good look at their faces. They walked in a pyramid-style formation. The way they moved alone made Chad think of the military. They had large guns with them, held with the muzzles pointed down. Most of them wore camouflage clothes. Something about the way they moved made them seem… professional.

  Chad knew one thing. You don’t want to run into professionals during the apocalypse.

  After all, what would their profession be? Killing?

  Chad was frozen in fear. His hand was on the shifter, his foot on the brake.

  “Go!”

  “Chad!”

  Everyone was urging him to move, to drive. But it was as if he couldn’t get his body to respond. He couldn’t make himself even shift the van into reverse.

  “Come on!” said Georgia, tugging on his sleeve.

  Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Chad snapped out of it.

  He put the van in reverse, spun the wheel, and hit the accelerator. Chad spun the van around, pointing it towards the road.

  “They see us,” said Georgia.

  “Are we going to be OK, Mom?” said Sadie.

  “We’re going to be OK, Sadie,” said James.

  “Go!”

  “Go!”

  Chad wasn’t sure who was shouting in the van.

  He slammed the van into drive, and jammed his foot down on the pedal. The tires spun in the loose earth, and they were off, heading towards the road down the long, winding driveway.

  Chad looked briefly in the rear view mirror. The men in formation were out of his sight.

  There were no dramatic gunshots. No one shot at the van. No one ran screaming at them.

  But the silence was almost worse. Because it meant too many unknowns.

  The farmhouse was now in their past. What they had left behind was now gone, and it was unlikely it would be safe to return. Max had been both wrong and right—it’d been a safe haven for what felt now like a brief moment. And it had quickly become too dangerous. They were too close to the cities, to civilization.

  They needed to get far, far away, to some unknown and unpopulated lands.

  “Who were they?” said Sadie.

  No one answered. Because no one knew.

  The only thing that seemed certain was that the men weren’t friends. They’d come to take what they needed, and it wasn’t likely they’d be kind. Not with those guns in their hands, not with the way they moved.

  “Here,” said Georgia, shaking out a caffeine pill and holding it out for Chad. “It’s the last one.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You OK to drive?” said Georgia. “We’ll take shifts. That way everyone can get some rest.”

  “Not really,” said Chad. “But what choice do we have?”

  “Right,” said Georgia. “I’ll stay up with you. Everyone else, get some sleep.” She turned her head around to address the rest of the group. “You hear me?”

  Chad looked in the rear view mirror, adjusting it. James and Sadie had already fallen asleep, passed out cold, their heads tilted to the side and their mouths open. Max had fallen asleep as well. His injury must have really exhausted him, because it wasn’t like Max to let himself sleep while others kept him safe.

  Chad felt a moment of panic. If Max didn’t make it, what would they do?

  But this wasn’t a good time to worry about that, and Chad knew it.

  Only Mandy remained awake, but she was looking out the window with a far-off look in her eyes. She wouldn’t be awake for long.

  “Here goes nothing,” muttered Chad, as he slowed the van down to take the turn onto the road. The gate was already open. The original owner of the van had left it that way.

  The tires of the van ran smoothly along the paved road.

  It was strange to be driving the van on a paved road. It almost felt like the EMP had never happened, and society had never collapsed. After all, the driver’s seat was upholstered and comfortable. And there was air conditioning and even a radio. Not that the radio would work. And not that they’d use the AC, since it would use up far too much gas.

  “Let’s hope this goes well,” said Georgia. “Who knows what we’re going to find out here.”

  “We don’t even know where we’re headed,” said Chad.

  “Max said you’d traveled west, right?” said Georgia. “I think he thought you were going to be our guide, since we don’t have any maps for the other states.”

  “Are you serious?” said Chad.

  “Yeah, that’s what he said.”

  “I mean, I’ve bounced around a little, yeah,” said Chad. “But it’s not like I know the routes or anything. I usually took the bus… One time, I made a road trip to LA in an old jalopy that a friend lent me… To be honest, I was out of it most of the time. The only thing I remember is that the roof was caving on me.”

  “You drove high?” said Georgia, disdain filling her voice.

  “Uh, yeah, wasn’t my proudest moment.”

  “Sounds like you haven’t had a lot of those.”

  “Not really. Nothing I can do about it now, though.”

  “You’re doing good, Chad,” said Georgia.

  He looked over at her briefly, and she looked at him.

  He knew she was referring to his effort to be responsible, to look out for the others, to do more than his fair share of the chores back at the farmhouse.

  Georgia wasn’t the sort of woman to throw out excessive compliments. So, coming from her, it was kind of a big deal. Especially since Chad already felt like he’d screwed up so much at the farmhouse.

  Chad drove on. Mandy had already fallen asleep, along with the rest of them. He and Georgia didn’t speak for the next half hour.

  Being out on the open road was the strangest thing. The sun was shining, bright and cheery, and the country road couldn’t have looked more peaceful. The leaves on the trees were bright and green. It would have been a beautiful, relaxing drive, had the situation been entirely different.

  Chad tried not to let his mind wander. But he couldn’t help it. He tried his hardest to think of practical things. They needed to know where to go, first of all. And they’d need food, not to mention water. And of course gas. They couldn’t go anywhere without that. They had just one tank. One pitiful little tank. Who knew how far that would take them, with six people in a fully-loaded down van that couldn’t have gotten the greatest gas mileage to begin with.

  Chad couldn’t focus on any of that.

  Instead, he found himself reminiscing about a trip he’d taken when he was younger, the year before he’d gotten involved in drugs. If he was being honest with himself, it was one of the last truly coherent memories he a
ctually had. It’d been a hiking trip with the local camping group, and they’d headed up to the Poconos, where beautiful pine trees lined a small man-made lake. There wasn’t anything really exciting that had happened on the trip. It was more that there’d been a certain feeling he’d always associated with that area. It was the feeling of peace and calm… Chad had no idea why he was thinking about it now.

  Max was injured. Everyone else was asleep. Georgia may have been there, but Chad was driving. And he was just as fatigued as the rest of them. He wasn’t ready for this level of responsibility. He just wasn’t that kind of guy, and he knew it.

  Why couldn’t it have been Chad that’d been shot, rather than Max? He certainly wouldn’t have relished being shot. Or the ensuing pain. But he didn’t deserve this responsibility.

  Max had been injured because he’d stuck his neck out for all of them. Chad hadn’t done so, though. So there wasn’t any more to think about.

  “Chad!” said Georgia, sounding frantic. “What are you doing?”

  That snapped Chad out of his daydreaming and thinking.

  His eyes had been on the road, but he hadn’t really been focusing.

  Suddenly, Chad saw it.

  In front of them, on the long stretch of two-lane country road, there was a roadblock.

  It was nothing more than some tree trunks that lay across the road.

  If they collided with it, the van would be toast, and they wouldn’t have a vehicle, arguably one of their most important tools for survival.

  Who’d put those logs there? Were there people lying in wait?

  And if they couldn’t get through here, where were they going to go? There’d been no other roads since leaving the farmhouse driveway.

  There was no time to worry about that now, though.

  If only Chad had noticed it earlier.

  He slammed on the brakes.

  But the van was rapidly heading towards the logs.

  18

  Max

  The last thing Max remembered was leaving the farmhouse. He’d passed out into a deep, dreamless sleep from which he remembered nothing.

  Next thing he knew, everyone was shouting.

  Max’s eyes were open in an instant. Up ahead was a rudimentary roadblock made of tree trunks dragged into the road. If that college kid had gotten through, coming from the west, then that meant the roadblock was new. Brand new. That meant there was someone there.

  Shit, this wasn’t good.

  It’d looked like they’d crash into it. But Chad slammed on the brakes just in time, and the van came skidding to a stop.

  “What do I do?” said Chad, sounding frantic and worried in the driver’s seat.

  “Keep your heads down,” said Max.

  Everyone did as he said.

  “Guns as ready as you can get them,” said Max. “Or knives.”

  It’d be hard to get their rifles ready in the confines of the cramped van. But if it came down to it, they could open the windows and stick the rifles out. If it really came down to it, they’d open the doors and get behind them for shelter.

  Max’s hand was already on his Glock.

  His leg was killing him, but he’d ignore it as best he could. He was pretty sure he could walk again now. He’d gotten enough rest. For now, at least.

  And if he could walk, he could fight. Maybe not as effectively as before. But he’d do it.

  Max was scanning the surrounding area through the slightly-tinted windows of the minivan.

  “Should I turn around?” said Chad frantically.

  “Not yet,” said Max. “Keep the engine on.”

  “Shouldn’t I turn around?”

  “Not yet,” said Max.

  This time, Chad listened.

  In the row of seats in front of him, Max saw Mandy reaching for her Mora knife. She pulled it from the plastic sheath.

  That was good, thought Max. It meant Mandy was already getting over having killed that woman in self defense. If they lived through this incident, it would serve Mandy well. It would serve them all well. No one could afford to hesitate when defending themselves.

  “We didn’t pass any other roads,” said Georgia. “There’s no other way.”

  That was exactly what Max had feared.

  “We’d have to head really far east, then north, before we could go west again,” said Mandy. Her hand was clutching her knife handle. “We’d use up too much gas…”

  Max knew she was right. She’d spent more time with the maps than anyone else.

  The whole area was getting overrun with people. They needed to get out. And fast. They couldn’t waste time driving east, even if they weren’t factoring in the gas. With the gas, they might never get out.

  It was either get through this roadblock, or die trying.

  There was no other way.

  “I think I should turn around,” said Chad. “There’s got to be someone out here…”

  “Don’t turn around, Chad,” said Max. “Don’t even think about it. Everyone, we’re going to have to get through this roadblock. Keep your eyes on the trees. Try to see if there’s any movement.”

  They hadn’t been shot at yet. That seemed like a good sign. But it didn’t mean much. After all, if the roadblock creators intended to steal vehicles, for instance, it wouldn’t do them much good to shoot at them. They’d destroy the van in the process, rendering it useless for themselves.

  No. If someone wanted the minivan, they were going to come close and take it by force, doing as little damage as possible to the vehicle.

  Well, let them try, thought Max.

  He gritted his teeth against the pain in his leg.

  “What do we do?” whispered Mandy.

  “We wait,” said Max. “Everyone, keep as silent as possible. Keep your heads down. They might shoot at the windows.”

  Everyone fell silent. The time started to tick by. Impossibly slowly.

  No one appeared. No movement.

  “Maybe we should get out and move the logs,” whispered Chad. “Maybe they’re there by mistake?”

  “No chance,” whispered Max.

  “Yeah,” whispered Georgia. “Tree trunks don’t move themselves.”

  “Well, maybe they put them there and left. Whoever they are.”

  “Why go to all that work?” said James, speaking too loudly.

  “James,” whispered Georgia. “We’ve got to stay quiet.”

  “Sorry,” whispered James.

  “Look,” whispered Sadie. “Over to the left.”

  She had her head down as low as she could get it in her seat, and she was pointing off towards one of the trees.

  Max saw it. A flash of movement.

  “I hope it’s not the militia-style group we saw back at the farm,” whispered Georgia.

  No one responded. Max was studying the trees where Sadie had seen someone. A full minute went by, and then another, and there was nothing.

  But someone was out there, hiding in the trees.

  Finally, the person in the trees moved again. This time, Max got a better look.

  “It’s a woman,” whispered Max. “And she’s wearing civilian clothes.”

  “Armed?” whispered Georgia.

  “No rifle that I can see,” whispered Max.

  “See anyone else?”

  “No.”

  “This is killing me,” said Chad. “We’ve got to do something. We’ve got to turn back, or try to go through.”

  “Hold on, Chad, hold on.”

  “Another one!” said Sadie, forgetting to whisper.

  Max looked where she was pointing, to the other side of the minivan.

  This time, there was no doubting what he saw.

  It was a man, big and burly, wearing a dirty workman’s jacket, jeans, and boots. He was close enough to see his face, which was red and weather-beaten. He was in his mid 40s, and looked like he’d spent a lifetime working outdoors. He carried a shotgun, the sights raised to his eyes.

  Max didn’t know wh
y, but there was something in the man’s face that seemed trustworthy. He didn’t have a hint of malice in his eyes. Not that you could tell a book by its cover. Certainly not these days.

  “Keep your eyes on the other side,” whispered Max.

  “What do I do?” said Chad, speaking at full volume again out of nervousness.

  “Nothing,” said Max. “Keep your eyes peeled. I’m getting out to talk to this guy.”

  “Are you crazy?” said Mandy. “He’s got a gun.”

  “I’m going to see if I can negotiate,” said Max. “We’re not going to shoot someone just because he has a gun. Not until he’s a threat, that is. Chad, if things go wrong, get everyone out of here. Turn the van around and drive fast.”

  Before anyone could protest, Max was moving as quickly as he could to the minivan’s sliding door.

  He held his Glock as he got down. Pain shot through his leg as he put his full weight on it, but he managed to stand straight. He slid the van door closed behind him. If something went wrong, if gunfire broke out, the van door might provide some protection for those inside. At least that was Max’s thinking.

  But if things went south, Max wouldn’t be able to get back into the van easily. Maybe not at all.

  The man with the shotgun was only about fifteen feet away. He was walking steadily towards Max, not varying his pace. He trained his shotgun onto Max’s chest.

  Max held his Glock down, pointed towards the ground. He didn’t want to start things off with the threat of violence. Not unless he needed to.

  Maybe what he was doing was crazy. But it seemed like the only solution. They needed to get through this roadblock, and a full out gunfight could have disastrous consequences. Maybe the only option was talking. That was what he was hoping for, at least.