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

by Ryan Westfield

  “We’d better get going,” said Mandy, moving away from Max.

  They both got into the van.

  Max was already asleep by the time Mandy put the van into drive.

  She was the only one awake as the evening became night, and she drove silently, lost in her own thoughts.

  She kept her eye on the gas gauge, which seemed to be dropping towards empty too fast. Maybe it was just her imagination. She hoped it was just her imagination.

  For much of the way, there were only trees that lined the road. But later on, there was the occasional old house that sat close to the road. Of course, no lights shone from them. Mandy found herself wondering whether they were inhabited or not. Any of those houses looked like a nice, comfortable place where they could all spend the night. But it was too much of a risk. Most likely, each of the houses contained a fearful family, with a father or mother who was doing their best to stay awake, a gun on the bedside table.

  Mandy, Max, and the others weren’t the sort of people who’d take something just because they could. They weren’t going to rob innocent people. They were concerned with defending themselves. Not hurting others.

  At about 9 o’clock, Mandy saw headlights in the distance, down the road towards them.

  She became so nervous that she found herself holding her breath. So much could happen. So much could go wrong. Who knew who was in the car, or what their intentions were. They could be people just like Max and Mandy and the others. Or they could be like the people who’d invaded the farmhouse, looking to take what they wanted without a care for who they hurt. They could even be the sorts of people who relished the opportunity to hurt and destroy, the sorts who had been waiting their whole lives for an opportunity like this, when law and order fell to the way side. Mandy shuddered as she remembered those men who’d broken into her apartment. It had happened so quickly after the EMP that it was almost hard to believe. But it had happened. Mandy had been there and felt their hands on her and seen the malice in their eyes.

  Mandy didn’t know what to do. She kept driving, heading right towards the headlights.

  There was a chance that the oncoming car would swerve to block them. And there was a chance that they’d just pass each other on the road, like two normal cars on any normal day in America.

  Mandy didn’t know why, but she didn’t wake anyone up. She let them sleep.

  She was hoping for the best. She was hoping nothing would happen.

  23

  John

  There were footsteps upstairs. The floorboards above them creaked and groaned as people walked and stomped around.

  At first, John had been hoping it’d just been one person up there. One person who’d broken the window and entered the house. One person who was a threat.

  Instead, it sounded like many.

  Whoever they were, they weren’t speaking. That probably meant they knew, or suspected, that others were in the house. That wasn’t good.

  Maybe they just wouldn’t come down into the basement.

  But John knew that was too much to hope for. He knew enough by now to know that things simply didn’t go the way he’d hope. Usually, they went the worst way possible.

  John watched as Bill and the others moved themselves against the wall. They pointed their guns at the end of the staircase.

  John didn’t know what to do. He had no military training, and he knew his knife would be no good. Which was good. Truthfully, he was terrified of the thought of having to use it.

  He moved against the wall himself, staying behind Bill. The two others were against the other wall. None of them moved.

  The door above them opened. It creaked loudly.

  But maybe they still wouldn’t come down. Maybe they were just opening the door to see if it was a closet or something. Maybe they’d lose interest when they saw that it led to a basement.

  Then again, whoever they were, they were almost certainly looking for provisions. And everyone knew that tons of useful things were often kept in basements.

  John’s heart was pounding in his chest. Adrenaline was coursing through him. He felt tense and wired. And cold with fear. He tried to keep his breathing under control. He felt like he was making far too much noise just breathing.

  Footsteps on the stairs.

  Heavy footsteps.

  Someone was descending.

  Each stair creaked. John’s heart leaped with each step.

  It was brutal, the waiting.

  He wished it could just all be over. No matter what the end, surely it’d be better than this. The suspense alone might kill him.

  When the person was about halfway down the stairs, at least as far as John could tell, counting the steps in his head and doing guesswork, they switched on a bright flashlight. The beam hit the wall opposite the stairs. It was a concentrated beam, but it cast diffuse light across the basement. Dust particles seemed to hang in the air, glowing with light.

  Everything felt still as the unknown person descended.

  Just get it over with, said John over and over to himself in his head.

  John saw the foot first. Wearing a heavy military-style boot, lots of laces, camo fatigues stuffed into the top of the boot.

  Bill’s companion, the man in the civilian clothes, shot first.

  The sound was defending, blasting John’s eardrums. It rang out through the basement, echoing horribly.

  John crouched down in fear, acting instinctually, automatically, covering his head with his hands. Just a coward, he thought to himself, the thoughts ringing painfully through his head, almost as bad as the gunfire. Nothing more than a damn coward.

  Another shot. A series of shots.

  Muzzle flashes lit up the room. The flashlight dropped, rolling to the floor. Its clatter couldn’t even be heard over the gunfire.

  John didn’t know what was happening. It was too much. Too fast.

  More footsteps, thudding around upstairs. Yelling. Shouted commands. All guttural and intense.

  “Tim’s down,” shouted someone, either Bill or the other guy.

  John looked up. The civilian-clothed companion was down on the ground, bleeding profusely.

  There was another body on the ground. It was a woman wearing military camo. She’d fallen headfirst down the last few steps, out over the open side of the stairwell. Her long braided hair ran down her back, out of a green military-style baseball cap. She lay face down, her gun underneath her body. One of her boots was still resting on a stair.

  “They’re not going to come down,” said Bill, in hurried, hushed tones.

  He was speaking mostly to the cop. Not to John. He knew John wasn’t going to be any good. He knew John was just dead weight, a worthless goner, no matter what.

  There was no way out of this. And John knew he’d be the next to die. Maybe he deserved it. He wasn’t doing anyone any good. Not even himself.

  “Yeah,” said the cop. John still didn’t know his name, and they were going to die together. “There’s no reason to. They’ll just wait for us to come up.”

  “Or drop a grenade down here,” said Bill.

  There was no discussion of the people upstairs simply leaving. But John already knew that that simply wasn’t going to happen.

  “The window,” muttered Bill, gesturing with his head towards one of the small windows.

  “Looks small.”

  “We could get through it.”

  “They’re sure to be outside, though. Waiting.”

  “What do we do?”

  “I’ve got no idea.”

  “Shit.”

  There was shouting upstairs.

  “Throw it!”

  Something clattered down the stairs. Something heavy and dense.

  John saw it. It was a grenade. It lay on the dusty concrete floor. Time seemed to stand still for a moment.

  But there wasn’t time to move.

  It exploded.

  The shock wave hit them. John’s eardrums rang from the sound of the explosion.
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  Bill’s heavy body hit him, knocking him over. John was on the ground, underneath Bill.

  John knew he should have felt something. Some shrapnel piercing him. He should have felt pain. But he felt nothing except for Bill’s heaviness weighing down on him. It was hard for him to breathe, and his eardrums sang with pain.

  With the ringing in his ears, it was hard to tell, but John guessed that silence followed the grenade.

  There were thumping footsteps. Someone was headed down the stairs.

  “Bill!” said John, whispering loudly. “Bill!”

  But he already knew there’d be no response. Bill didn’t move. He wasn’t breathing.

  John didn’t know why, and he didn’t know how, but somehow he had the strength to go on. The strength to at least try.

  It took all his strength to push Bill off of him.

  Bill’s dead weight finally fell to the side, making a sickening noise as it slumped down onto the concrete. The sound of cold death, boring, mundane, and terrifying.

  Bill’s back was bloodied with shrapnel wounds.

  The cop was down on the ground, not moving. He was lying face up, his chest and face torn up by shrapnel. There wasn’t any hope for him.

  John felt dizzy and weak. He still had his knife. His only thought was that somehow he could get out through the window. Not that he could but that he needed to try.

  A man wearing fatigues and a t-shirt jumped down the last few steps. His boots landed heavily on the concrete floor. The light was dim, but John could still see him. The dead woman’s flashlight lay on the ground, shining its concentrated beam at the opposite wall, offering only diffuse light to the surroundings.

  The man saw John instantly.

  He raised his handgun, pointing it at John’s head.

  It was over. It was finally over.

  There was nothing he could do.

  A small bit of relief washed over John.

  Finally.

  The man pulled the trigger. John saw it all happen almost in slow motion.

  He knew he’d be dead in an instant.

  But nothing happened.

  The gun had jammed.

  John looked up, finally meeting the man’s gaze. He looked him dead in the eyes. And he saw fear.

  24

  Georgia

  Georgia had tried to stay awake. After all, she’d needed to protect James and Sadie. And the rest of the group needed her too. But she’d pushed herself past her limits, and finally fallen asleep in the van’s passenger seat.

  “Did anything happen?” said Georgia, finally opening her eyes.

  The first thing she did was turn around to look at James and Sadie. They were sound asleep.

  The night was dark. It was only because of the headlights that she could see the road stretching out in front of the minivan. The trees on the road side looked eerie in the off-white glow of the headlights.

  “Nothing,” said Mandy, sounding tired herself.

  “There weren’t any other cars?”

  “Well, I saw one,” said Mandy. “I was really worried. I saw the headlights coming towards us, and I almost had a heart attack.”

  “You should have woken us up,” said Georgia.

  “Nothing happened,” said Mandy. “They just drove right on by.”

  “Something could have happened,” said Georgia.

  “I guess you’re right. So what’s the plan?”

  “Well, for one thing, it’s my turn to drive. You need to get some sleep.”

  Mandy slowed the van down, and she and Georgia switched places.

  Max stirred in the backseat. “I’m not going to sleep anymore,” he said. “I’ll take the passenger seat. Mandy, you can sleep in the back with the others.”

  It felt strange to be behind the wheel of the minivan. This was the sort of vehicle that Georgia had always hated, even though she was a mother herself and could understand its practicality. Georgia had always preferred trucks.

  Georgia had to admit that the minivan was serving them well now. A truck wouldn’t have fit all of them.

  And the minivan ran without problems. At least so far. The engine hummed quietly. The accelerator felt smooth, and there didn’t seem to be any problems with the automatic transmission.

  “Mandy saw someone else on the road,” said Georgia. “Another car.”

  “She should have woken us up,” said Max.

  “That’s what I told her.”

  Mandy was already fast sleep behind them, her soft snores barely audible.

  Max handed Georgia a bottle of water from the Millers, as well as a bag of beef jerky. She took a bite of the tough home-made beef jerky and felt a little stronger almost instantly. It was good beef jerky, made with a mixture of just the right spices. It was too bad they didn’t have more food like that. Who knew how much they could withstand with good food in their stomachs. Then again, they’d already withstood a lot.

  Soon enough, Georgia would be able to hunt again, and they wouldn’t have to worry so much about food. All she needed was a place where she wasn’t likely to get ambushed. Unfortunately, a place like that was proving hard to find. Harder than they’d thought.

  “So what’s the plan, Max?” she asked.

  “Well,” said Max, leaning over to get a better look at the gas gauge. “We’re going to need gas soon. At least by dawn, at the rate we’re burning through fuel.”

  “You think we’ll be able to get it?”

  “I hope so. It’s either that or get another vehicle.”

  “One that can fit us all?”

  “Two cars, if we need to,” said Max. “One would be better.”

  “How are we going to get gas? Will the gas stations work?”

  “I doubt it,” said Max. “The pumps are powered by electricity. The EMP will have fried everything.”

  “I remember reading that some gas stations had generators,” said Georgia. “That way, they’d keep working during a natural disaster.”

  “Right,” said Max. “I think in parts of Florida, where they kept getting hit with hurricanes, some gas stations had generators installed. As far as I know, they’ve never done the same thing in Pennsylvania. Not that it would do us much good anyway. The generators will have been fried as well.”

  “Shit,” said Georgia.

  “Shit is right,” said Max. “And it’s not like we can just suck the gas out of there. On the internet, people always used to talk about siphoning gas from a gas station with a hose.”

  “That wouldn’t work,” said Georgia. She had enough common sense to understand why.

  “Right,” said Max. “It works with gravity. So if the tank is in the ground, the gas isn’t going to magically travel up the tube against the force of gravity.”

  “So gas stations are out?” said Georgia.

  “I guess,” said Max. “Unless we can come up with some physics-defying brilliant plan. But for now, I think we’d better focus on finding another car.”

  “An abandoned one?”

  “Preferably not a car with an occupant,” said Max. “But we’re desperate. I’m not going to go around checking to see if anyone still needs the car or not. Call it stealing. Or whatever you want. But that’s what we’re going to have to do. If we want to get out of here, that is.”

  “I don’t think Mandy’s going to be happy about that.”

  “She’s going to have to deal with it,” said Max.

  They drove in silence for a while, heading through the dark night. There were no other cars on the road.

  “How’s the leg?” said Georgia.

  “Fine,” said Max. He fished in his pocket for his bottle of antibiotics, and shook a pill out into his hand. He swallowed it without water.

  “I don’t get it,” said Georgia. “There were so many people in our area. But I don’t see any cars out here. You’d think people would be traveling by car.”

  “I think what happened,” said Max, “is that most people are coming from the cities and the
dense suburbs. The roads must have become impassable shortly after we made it out. Traffic jams, military blockades, accidents… a thousand things could have prevented the use of the roads. This is a small two lane road that heads east and west. We’re not seeing a lot of cars on it because most of the cars are stuck in the cities. And most of the people who live out here are probably staying. They’re getting ready to defend their homes. They’re more likely to be prepared for an event like this than the people in the cities. It’s a mindset kind of thing.”

  “Unfortunately,” said Georgia, “that’s going to mean that we’re less likely to find a car out here. If most of them are stuck in the cities and ‘burbs.”

  “We’ll find one,” said Max. “There are still cars out here.”

  “We’d better find one soon,” said Georgia. “Or else we’re not going to be able to make it much farther. Look at the gas gauge.”

  “I know,” said Max.

  “Too bad we don’t have any gas cans with us,” said Georgia.

  “I was thinking about that,” said Max. “I think we might be able to use the plastic sack meant for extra water.”

  “I guess that could work. But we might get into a situation where we need to store extra water.”

  “We’ll have to go thirsty,” said Max.

  “It’s one of the basic life necessities,” said Georgia. “It’s the most essential thing…”

  “Getting out is the most essential thing,” said Max. “At least for now. It’s a risk. And it’s one we might have to take.”

  Up ahead, in the dark night, there was a house in the distance. The clouds had parted, and the moonlight shone down on the lone house.

  “Look,” said Georgia. “I think that’s a car out front.”

  “It is,” said Max, peering through the windshield. “Now’s our chance.”

  Georgia slowed the van down, giving them a chance to figure out what to do.

  “You sure you want to do this?” said Georgia. “It’s someone’s gas, after all.”

  “We don’t have any choice,” said Max.

  “Maybe we could head off into the woods somewhere,” said Georgia. “Maybe we’ll be able to get out of the way…”