It was a smallish two story house, with a partially exposed concrete basement. It looked like it had been built in the mid 1970s. Maybe it’d been cheaper to build them that way at that time for some reason.
A ditch had been dug around the exposed concrete walls of the basement, creating a deep, waterless moat around the house. It was clearly created for protection and defense. It was similar to what Max had envisioned. He’d wanted to dig a ditch around the property of the farmhouse, but this made more sense, now that he saw it.
The effect of the ditch was to create a greater distance between the ground and the second story. It’d make it almost impossible for someone to try to gain access to the second floor by jumping.
“That,” said Miller, pointing up to a strange-looking contraption. “Is my pride and joy.”
He smiled when he said it. He was proud of it. He’d likely built it himself.
“A drawbridge?” said Max.
“Don’t you know it. Come on, I’ll show you all how it works. It’s the only way into the house. And we’d better not stay out here too long anyway. We’ll get everyone inside, and then you and I can come out and put the van in the garage.”
He pointed to the garage. It was a squat structure, completely covered with all sorts of foliage, meant to function as camouflage. The disguise had worked well enough that Max hadn’t even noticed it. Then again, he was beyond tired.
Miller took them over to the drawbridge, which led to the second floor’s door.
“The only door to the basement’s been completely sealed off,” said Miller. There was true pride showing on his face.
A padlock secured a winch attached to the drawbridge. Miller unlocked it with a key taken from his pocket. This freed the mechanism of the manual winch, and Miller started winding it. The drawbridge slowly lowered.
It was more of a ladder than a real drawbridge. But it served its purpose, preventing easy access to the house.
Miller’s wife and child went first, and Miller gestured for everyone else to climb up. There was a small patio at the top, where the drawbridge was attached.
“Want me to help with that?” said Max, standing by the door, as Miller started winding the top-level winch, raising the drawbridge-ladder again.
“I’m good,” said Miller. “I like doing it, and you need to rest.”
Inside, the house was fairly small. It was only really four rooms, and there was hardly any walking space. Almost every space imaginable had been filled up with canned goods, ammunition, bottles of water, sacks of corn meal, rice, dried beans, all sorts of food stuffs. There were large plastic buckets with labels that held sugar. There was almost everything one could need.
“You’ve got everything!” said James, excitedly looking around.
“Can I lie down?” said Sadie.
Sadie went right to a small patch of blank floor and lay down, curling up. In a moment, she was asleep, snoring lightly, her hands tucked under her head.
With everyone inside the house, there was hardly any room.
While the house could technically fit all of them, Max knew that it wouldn’t work as a long-term solution. Having them all stay there indefinitely, that is. Not that he would ever ask Miller to stay. Miller had done the work to prepare, and Max wasn’t going to try to take that away from him. He recognized his own lack of preparation and he was ready to own it.
What was more, Max already had his doubts about whether Miller’s set up would actually work for them. Sure, it was set up better than the farmhouse. But, long term, there were all sorts of problems that could arise, especially if the area was going to become as overrun with stragglers and mercenary types as Max imagined it would.
And, plus, how strong could a padlock really be? A couple hits from an axe and it’d break right off, no matter how well it was made. Miller did seem like the type to take all that into account, and he probably figured that he’d be able to shoot the attacker from above. Sure, shooting from the second floor would provide a tremendous strategic advantage. But would it be enough, day in and day out?
Then again, Max really must have been tired, because he suddenly realized that the padlock was only for when the Millers were away. When they were at home, the ladder would be raised. And when they were away, what good would the padlock do?
Maybe they didn’t plan on leaving much. Putting up the roadblocks had been an emergency action, a rare necessity punctuating an otherwise home-bound life.
There were rifles on the walls, and as Miller moved, he revealed a revolver in a holster at his side. The Millers certainly weren’t messing around. They were prepared.
As Max should have been. Whatever deficiency possibly existed in Miller’s plan, they sure seemed better off than Max’s farmhouse group.
Everyone stood around somewhat awkwardly.
“Well,” said Miller, clapping his hands together. “Let’s get you all something to eat.”
He seemed to be enjoying the company.
Mrs. Miller headed into the kitchen, taking her young son in tow, to get something ready for the guests.
“I didn’t see a farm on your property,” said Max. “Did you work for someone else, or is it hidden?”
“A farmer?” said Miller, smiling. “You took me for a farmer.” He started laughing, as if it was the funniest thing in the world. “Can’t say I’ve ever farmed much. I’m a lawyer. Or was, I guess. Legal counsel won’t do anyone much good now that there’s no law.”
“Just the law of the strongest,” said Max.
Slowly, everyone was finding a place to sit down, resting their weary bodies. Georgia sat on a bucket, as did James. Chad slumped against a couch, looking like he’d pass out any moment. Mandy’s eyes, too, were slowly closing.
“I’m afraid I can’t offer you all much more than rice and beans, and some water,” said Mrs. Miller, appearing in the doorway to the living room. “Come into the kitchen and serve yourselves.”
That really woke everyone up. They practically scrambled to their feet to head into the kitchen, and Miller himself just laughed.
Even though he hadn’t yet eaten and rested, Max was feeling more relaxed. It felt good to be here, good to be safe.
But as soon as Max became aware that he was feeling that way, he got that edge of anxiety again. He knew well that it was that edge that had kept him on his toes, and had kept him alive. He couldn’t afford to lose it. Not now. Not when there were more and more people coming into the area.
“Come on,” Miller said to Max, slapping him on the back. “Let’s get that minivan into the garage. You can all spend the night here, if you can find space on the floor, that is.” He laughed, taking pleasure in the quantity of his preparations.
The others were already eating, practically drinking down their bowls of rice and beans.
Max forwent food to follow Miller back outside, where they went through the complicated business of the winch and the lowering of the ladder again.
“How’d you come up with this whole idea?” said Max, gesturing to the ladder. He wanted to ask Miller if he thought it would really help him protect his family. Max wasn’t exactly the type to not say what he meant, but he was staying in the man’s home, and eating his food. There were some lines of politeness that he wouldn’t cross, even as civilization crashed down around them.
“The drawbridge?” said Miller, smiling proudly. “Thought of it all myself.”
Max nodded, as he looked out towards the trees in the distance.
The two stood together, side by side, looking out across the huge, overgrown yard toward the tall trees.
“You know,” said Miller. “Your grandfather helped my dad out a lot once. I don’t know the details or anything. I think it was something like a big financial loan, but I’m not sure.”
“Yeah?”
“Just glad I can repay the favor, is all.”
“We appreciate it,” said Max. “We’re dead tired.”
“I can tell.”
Su
ddenly, Max saw something. It was movement between the trees. Someone was out there, wearing a bright red shirt.
His first thought wasn’t, “shit, not again. I can’t deal with this.” No, somehow Max’s mind went right to the practical, right to what had to be done.
“You see that?” said Max, pointing.
Whoever was out there, they were too far away to hear Max.
“Shit,” muttered Miller. “Not again. I don’t want to have to shoot anyone else.”
“You might have to,” said Max.
“Don’t get me wrong. I will,” said Miller, wincing as he said it. “I just…”
“I know,” said Max. “No one likes to… unless they’re sick.”
“Maybe they’ll just move on through,” said Miller. “There’s no sign yet that they’ll attack us.”
“I hope so,” said Max.
The figure in the red shirt was clearer now, but still very far away. Whoever it was, they weren’t even remotely a threat yet.
But as Max continued to watch, he saw more figures moving through the trees.
They emerged from the trees, moving as a pack, coming straight towards Miller’s home. It was getting clearer that they were after the house, and whatever it contained, whoever they were.
“Shit,” said Miller. “Shit, shit, shit.”
“We had three guys attack us,” said Max. “They took the farmhouse. We almost didn’t make it…”
“We’ll be fine,” said Miller.
“We had six people with guns,” said Max.
“We’ll be fine,” said Miller. “Don’t you worry. I’m a good shot, and so is my wife. Even my son… But he’s never shot anyone…”
“We’ll help,” said Max. “You’re letting us stay in your home.”
Miller turned to him and shook his head. “No,” he said. “I’m not going to let someone else fight my fights for me.”
“We’re talking about the safety of your family,” said Max. “It’s even more than that… we’re talking about the lives of your wife, and your son, not to mention your own.”
“We’ll be fine,” said Miller. “But you’d all better leave. You don’t want to get mixed up in this. Maybe you had the right idea leaving the area. We’re too close to the cities. Too many people are coming, looking for a way out.”
“This is crazy,” said Max. “You’d do better with six extra guns.”
But Max could tell that he wouldn’t change Miller’s mind. It showed in his face, and Max knew that Miller wasn’t the sort of person who was going to put others at risk, even if it meant risking his own family.
Max didn’t agree with the decision, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Plus, he didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he and the others would be better off the sooner they could get away from this mess.
“Come with us,” said Max, trying one more time. “You’ve got a car or truck, right?”
Miller nodded. “A truck.”
“Great, then follow us on out of here. We could use a guy like you with us on the road, someone who knows what he’s doing.”
“We’ve got all our supplies,” said Miller. “We can’t take it all…”
“You could take a lot of it,” said Max. “You’ve got six sets of hands that can help you load it all quickly.”
Miller shook his head adamantly. “I’m not leaving my home,” he said. “I just can’t do that.”
Max finally knew there was nothing more to say. There was no good words could do. He didn’t know if the Millers would make it through the rest of the day alive. But it wasn’t his battle.
“Mandy, Georgia!” called out Max, moving closer to the home.
“What is it?” came Mandy’s sleepy voice as she poked her head out the window. She looked like she’d just been woken up. Her eyes were blurry, and her hair was messy and undone, hanging around her face. It was a strange time for such a thought, but Max was suddenly struck again with her beauty. The thought distracted him, and it took him a moment to speak.
“We’re leaving,” he called out.
“What?”
“We’re leaving. Now!” Max waved his arms urgently. “Get everyone. Get everything.”
There wasn’t time to wait around. They needed to leave as fast as possible.
“If you head that way,” said Miller, pointing. “You can drive across the property for a quarter of a mile and get around both roadblocks we set up.”
Mad nodded. “Good luck.”
“You too.”
Max was already limping towards the van, and Miller was already up his drawbridge-ladder.
Max had the minivan started by the time the first of his group was down the ladder. He rolled down the automatic window on the passenger’s side and yelled at them to hurry up and get in.
They all moved sleepily and slowly, until they saw the figures off in the distance. The figures were staying still, possibly waiting until the right moment to move in and attack. If that was what they were going to do. If the Millers were lucky, nothing would happen at all.
“Why aren’t we staying to help?” said Chad, to Max’s pleasant surprise, as he got in the car.
“I offered,” was all Max said.
“They should come with us,” said Mandy, getting into the seat behind Max.
“He won’t,” said Max.
“Are you OK to drive, Max?” said Georgia.
“Yeah,” was all Max said.
He had the van moving before the last door was closed. He used the rear view mirror to check to see that everyone was there.
Maybe it was because of his exhaustion, or the surreal nature of the situation, but these thoughts kept popping into Max’s head, thoughts that weren’t directly related to the practical. The last one had been about Mandy’s beauty. This one was about how when the EMP had first struck, Max had been concerned about one person and one person only—himself. Himself, and no one else. Now he was going so far as to check to make sure everyone was in the van. He was concerned for the lives of people he hadn’t even met until two weeks ago. He felt responsible for them, and he didn’t even know why. Maybe it gave him a purpose. Maybe it gave him something to fight for.
The van was moving slowly across the bumpy road.
Max adjusted the mirror again, trying to see out the back. But he couldn’t see the men, not from this angle.
“Can anyone see them?”
“Nope,” said Chad. “We’re too far away. Last I saw, they were just standing there.”
“I hope they don’t hurt the Millers,” said Sadie. “They’re so nice.”
“Mrs. Miller gave us supplies on the way out,” said James. “She gave us a big bag of rice, and even some beef jerky.”
“Just don’t eat it all yourself, James,” said Sadie. “And she gave us water bottles, too.”
That was good, that they had more food and water. But Max’s mind was on the Millers’ imminent danger.
Miller was sure to be inside by now, his drawbridge-ladder hoisted. He’d have his gun in his hand, and so would his wife. Maybe his son, too.
But Max couldn’t think about them now.
“I can’t believe they’re staying,” said Mandy.
“They’ve made their decision,” said Georgia.
Finally, they made it to the road, emerging just past the second roadblock, which was a pile of tree stumps that Miller must have dragged over with his truck earlier in the day, before felling those trees.
The minivan moved smoothly on the pavement. Max pressed down on the accelerator, and the van started to gather speed.
“Max!” cried out someone.
In front of them, on the road, was a figure. There wasn’t enough time to register who they were.
The figure was dashing off to the road’s shoulder, a handgun raised.
A shot rang out. The sound of shattering glass.
Max acted without thinking. He swung the wheel, urging the van directly towards the figure.
2
1
John
The four of them were sitting in a dark, unfurnished basement. The only illumination came from the sunlight that crept through the cracks of the small, boarded up windows.
Bill’s two companions had introduced themselves, but John had already forgotten their names.
They’d given John a full water bottle, which he’d drained in almost a single gulp. And they’d handed him a loaf of stale sliced bread. It was cheap supermarket bread, the kind of stuff that John would have turned his nose up at just a little more than two week ago. But he ate it greedily, devouring the whole loaf in record time.
“So I don’t get it,” said John. “The whole Main Line area has been taken over by some militia?”
“Shhh, remember to whisper.”
“Sorry,” whispered John.
“If they find us, we’re screwed,” whispered Bill. “Trust me, they’re brutal. You wouldn’t believe the things they’ve done… the things I’ve seen….”
Bill had probably saved John’s life, taking him down to this basement. It was evidently a place they’d hidden out in before, since Bill had known exactly which window was unlocked. Maybe he’d left it that way himself.
Bill hadn’t mentioned his family at all, and John didn’t want to ask. He had a feeling that something horrible had happened to them, and he didn’t want to cause Bill any pain by asking about it. At least that was what he was telling himself. Really, he thought of himself nothing more than a coward for not even asking.
“To answer your question,” said one of the men, speaking in low tones. “The military and police had control of the area. From what you’re saying, it sounds like they only lasted a short while in Philly.”
“Yeah,” said John, who didn’t want to say anything more about the horrors in the city. Those screams he’d heard would be featured in his nightmares and waking thoughts for the rest of his life, which for all he knew wasn’t going to be much longer.
“They lasted about a week out here,” continued the man. In the darkness, John couldn’t tell if he was the one wearing civilian clothes or the police uniform. “But without communication, everything fell apart quickly.”
Staying Alive: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller (The EMP Book 2) Page 12
