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

by Ryan Westfield

  John didn’t know what to expect, whether she’d say yes or no.

  Finally, after a long pause, she nodded her head silently at him.

  John stood up and offered the woman his hand.

  Taking her along would have its risks. But John would be lying if he told himself he was only doing it as some type of selfless sacrifice. Sure, he wanted to help her. But that self-serving part of himself still did exist somewhere inside him, albeit in smaller quantities than before. Two people instead of one definitely had its advantages. It meant one person could keep watch while the other slept. It meant two people to fight, not just one.

  29

  Georgia

  They’d been driving a full two hours in tense silence. The Bronco kept following. No matter how fast or slow Georgia drove, the Bronco was there behind them. It kept its distance. Sometimes Georgia could see it in the mirror and sometimes she couldn’t. But when she couldn’t, and she hoped for a brief moment that the nightmare was over, Max in the back with his binoculars would confirm that it was still there.

  Georgia couldn’t believe that the semi-automatics had been left at the Millers’. It was a huge oversight, even given their emergency exit. No one had been blamed. No one knew whose fault it was, or if it was anyone’s at all. After all, it wasn’t like the guns had been assigned to anyone in particular. No one had a designated responsibility.

  They’d made so many mistakes in the last weeks. Leaving the guns behind was just another grave error in a long list of them. They’d set up a horrible watch system at the farmhouse, one that had almost cost them their lives. They should have had more people on watch, at all times.

  There were too many “should haves” to even mentally list. And they couldn’t be correct now. Only in the future.

  Georgia was trying to keep herself as calm as possible. She knew that ruminating on what they’d done wrong would only increase her pulse, only make her sweat. And above all, make her less effective when the time to act eventually came.

  She was worried about James and Sadie. She was worried about them all. But James and Sadie the most.

  The gas gauge had dipped almost to half. They seemed to be burning fuel faster than earlier. Maybe something was wrong with the van. Not that they could stop to check on the engine. Not now.

  Georgia had taken the first turn she could. The Bronco had followed. She’d taken another turn, and again the Bronco had followed.

  Now they were lost.

  “What are we going to do?” said Mandy, sounding frantic.

  “We’re screwed,” said Sadie.

  “Don’t use that language,” said Georgia. She said it automatically. Honestly, she didn’t care what kind of language Sadie used now. And Sadie was probably right, anyway.

  “We’ll be fine,” said Chad. “We can take them. Let’s just stop. I mean, come on, they’re going to come up against six of us? We’ve all got guns and we know how to use ‘em.”

  “Some of us know how to use them better than others,” said Mandy.

  “You think I don’t know how to shoot?” said Chad. “What about that guy I shot from the roof?”

  “Took you long enough, didn’t it?” said Mandy.

  “What are we going to do, Max?” said Georgia.

  Everyone got quiet. They expected Max to be the voice of reason. They expected him to be the one with the plan.

  “We’re going to have to face them at some point,” said Max. “We’ve got… a couple hours at least until we’re out of state. Maybe more now that we’re lost.”

  “I don’t have any clue where we are,” said Georgia. “Any ideas, Mandy?” Mandy was the one who’d spent the most time with the maps. Georgia had never come to this part of the state on her hunting trips.

  “No idea,” said Mandy.

  Great, that was just great.

  “We’re bound to come to a town sooner or later,” said Georgia. “And that’s going to bring its own host of problems.”

  “Maybe the problems will cancel each other out?” said James. “You know, like in math class? We run into some bad guys in a town, and then the Bronco guys decide they don’t want to mess with us.”

  “This isn’t math class, James,” said Sadie.

  “Shut up, I know that.”

  “It might work,” said Max. “But I doubt it. We can’t risk it. We’re going to have to pull over and face them sooner or later.”

  “What do you think our chances are?” said Georgia.

  “Not good,” said Max.

  “Chad has a point, though,” said Georgia. “We outnumber them.”

  “Right,” said Max. “But they know that. They saw how many people we have when they passed us. And they wouldn’t be following us unless they thought they were sure they could take us all out.”

  “What does that mean? Semi-automatics?”

  “Not sure,” said Max. “Either that, or something else we’re not thinking of. Maybe they’re ex-military. Or maybe they have some other kind of training. Or maybe they’re just irrational or crazy, which could be equally as dangerous.”

  Georgia knew that Max was making good points, and it sent a chill down her spine.

  “The thing we’re forgetting,” said Max. “Or not taking into account—however you want to put it—is that when we talk about outnumbering them, we’re still talking about some of us dying. Or at least getting shot. That’s the most likely outcome. We’ve got to face the fact that while there are a lot of us, we’re not skilled fighters. These guys might be. At this point, we all know basic gun safety, and things like that. But most of us don’t have extensive experience with firearms.”

  Max knew that he wasn’t speaking for himself, or for Georgia. He was being diplomatic about their abilities, even in a crisis situation. She didn’t know what to think about that. Maybe he was just trying to stop infighting amongst them during this crisis, because it wasn’t like Max not to say things directly. He liked to say it how it was, when possible.

  “What are we going to do then?” said Mandy. “We’re just going to let them follow us until we need gas and then let them attack us?”

  “We don’t yet know what they want,” said Max.

  “What does that matter? We know they’re following us. They want to hurt us.”

  “Probably,” said Max. “But it’s possible that they want something of ours.”

  “So what? I don’t see what difference that makes,” said Mandy.

  “Well,” said Max. “There’s always the lost art of diplomacy.”

  “Diplomacy? Are you crazy? You want to negotiate with them?”

  “I admit it’s not ideal,” said Max. “But as far as last options go, it’s not the worst thing that comes to mind.”

  Georgia didn’t know what to think of Max’s plan.

  “Are you serious, Max?” said Georgia.

  “Yeah,” said Max. “Now I’m not asking anyone else to do it. I’ll volunteer. I say we stop, and I’ll see if I can get them to stay at a safe distance. I’ll ask them what they want and we can go from there.”

  “You think it’ll be that easy?”

  “Probably not,” said Max. “But if there’s something we can give them that makes this all go away, it’d be preferable to fighting. We simply aren’t equipped to deal with gunshot wounds. I got lucky with mine, and the next one of us that gets shot—well, I doubt they’ll be so lucky.”

  “You’re crazy, man,” said Chad.

  “Maybe,” said Max.

  Georgia knew Max well enough to know that diplomacy in a situation like this was the last place his mind would go to. Max was always willing to step up to fight when necessary. He never looked for fights, but he didn’t shy away from them either, not when lives were on the line.

  Georgia was turning Max’s words over and over in her head. The more she thought about it, the more she actually agreed with Max. It certainly wasn’t ideal, but the thought of engaging in another firefight made her feel sick to her stomach. She had
images in her mind of James and Sadie getting shot and bleeding out on the ground. The last time they’d stopped to siphon gas, they’d gotten lucky. It easily could have ended horribly, with James lying dead on the ground.

  “I think we should do it,” said Georgia. “It’s worth a shot. If they get close, you can hop back in and we can speed off again.”

  “Good,” said Max. “Do it up here, down this straightaway.”

  “You sure you want to do it now?” Georgia was thinking Max might want to think it over before acting.

  “The sooner the better,” said Max.

  “This is nuts,” said Chad. “You can’t do this. They’re just going to shoot you. What if they’ve got rifles with scopes or something?”

  “For once I agree with Chad,” said Mandy.

  “Don’t do it, Max,” said Sadie. She sounded worried for Max’s safety. Georgia knew that while Sadie wouldn’t ever admit it, she admired Max. James did too. He’d do anything Max said.

  “I’m doing it,” said Max. “Unless anyone has a better plan.”

  No one said anything.

  They were at the straightaway. There was nothing but trees on either side of the road. There wasn’t a house in sight.

  Georgia didn’t even ask if the Bronco was still following them. She knew it would be.

  Georgia slowed the minivan down. She didn’t pull over to the side of the road at all, so that it’d be easier to make a getaway if they needed to. Not that the loaded-down minivan would be able to outrun the Bronco anyway. But at least if they needed to, they could get driving again. Although…

  Her thoughts were going round and round with the possibilities. There were too many of them.

  “I’ll leave the door open,” said Max, opening the sliding door, getting ready to step outside.

  “Max,” said Mandy, her voice barely above a whisper. “Be careful.”

  Georgia was watching Max. There was determination on his face. He stepped out, turned around, and nodded to everyone.

  He stood there in the open air, binoculars to his eyes, watching.

  “It’s coming,” said Max. “It looks like they’re slowing down. I’m going to flag them down. Let them know I want to talk.”

  There was no way Georgia could think about it that ended well. It was just a question of how badly it would go.

  30

  John

  “You sure you’re going to come?”

  The woman nodded again.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Cynthia.”

  “I’m John.” There was no point with last names. At least not the way John figured it.

  “We’d better get going,” said John. “Unless we want to stay the day here. I only travel by night. Less of a chance of getting seen or caught or killed.”

  The woman just nodded. She was still crying, staring at her dead husband.

  There were cars in the driveways of the neighboring houses. There must have been people still in their homes. And they must have heard the gunshots and the trucks. But they didn’t leave their houses. No one came to help. They were too scared. It made John mad, even though he didn’t blame them. They were protecting themselves, as best they could, looking out for themselves. He couldn’t fault them for that. But his blood was boiling, and his chest felt hot with anger.

  “Do you have anything in the house we could use?” said John. “I know you said they took all the food.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Come on, let’s go look. Time’s passing.”

  “What are we going to do with him?”

  “With John?”

  She nodded, her eyes fixed on her husband.

  John knew she’d want to bury him. But there wasn’t time.

  “We’ve got to get going,” said John. “I’m sorry, but there isn’t time to bury him.”

  John walked over to a large bush, broke off a couple branches, and laid them down over the woman’s husband. His face remained uncovered. John closed the eyelids one by one. The gaze of death was concealed.

  The woman was muttering something to herself, probably saying a prayer.

  John had to take her hand and tug her until she budged, heading back into her darkened house.

  Being physically removed from her husband’s body had an awakening effect on her. It was slight, but it was there. She was able to take some action now. She took a candle from a table in the pitch-black house and lit it with a match.

  Together, they searched the house quickly for anything they might take. The woman had a backpack that John carried for her, leaving his own pack by the door. He filled it with things he could see by the candlelight.

  The militia soldiers had torn through the house, leaving hardly anything unturned. Tables had been toppled over and doors had been broken, and for no reason at all.

  There wasn’t a scrap of food in the kitchen. All the kitchen knives were gone.

  “Do you have a shed, a garage?”

  “No.”

  “Any tools, anything like that? Camping gear?”

  “No, we’ve never been into anything like that.”

  John sighed. There wasn’t much that would be of value for them.

  The best he could do was to gather all the candles that remained, the ones that the soldiers had overlooked in their hasty raid. Along with the candles, John took blankets from the beds.

  Cynthia took a picture of herself and her husband. She wasn’t foolish, and didn’t go for jewelry or anything like that. Interestingly, the soldiers hadn’t either.

  John could understand taking the picture, but when she took a book from her bedside table, John had to say something in protest.

  “Do you really need that?”

  “I guess not.”

  “What is it?”

  “The Savage Detectives.”

  “A crime novel?”

  “Not really. It’s fiction, I guess. It means a lot to me… My husband gave it to me.”

  “We’ve got to go,” said John. “Take it. Come on. We can’t spend any more time here. Daylight’s coming.”

  They left through the backyard. John wore his backpack and she wore hers. He carried his hoe, and he handed her his kitchen knife, telling her to keep it in hand at all times.

  John led the way at first, and she followed. But they soon realized that she knew the area far better than he did. She’d lived there for ten years, after all, and she knew which backyards they could cut easily through and when it’d make more sense to cross the street. Or if it was better to risk walking along the sidewalk for a short distance.

  A couple times they lost precious time by having to hide, frozen, in a backyard when a truck had rumbled by. A couple times they’d heard shouting. No gunfire, though.

  It was getting close to dawn when they arrived at the top of the huge hill. They were both sweating and exhausted. John was ravenous and his throat was parched.

  “I don’t know whether to go through King of Prussia, or Valley Forge,” he said.

  “I used to go running at Valley Forge Park all the time,” said Cynthia.

  “You know it well then?”

  “You could say that.”

  “Park it is then,” said John, making the decision quickly. “But I’m worried we’re not going to get there by morning.”

  “If we take Maple Street,” said Cynthia, “we can save a lot of time. We can cut right through to the park.”

  “I’m starting to think it’s good I brought you along.”

  Cynthia didn’t say anything. But then again, she was still grieving. Her husband was freshly dead. And he didn’t even qualify as “freshly buried.”

  Maple Street was a long, narrow road. Beautiful trees formed a canopy overhead. The sun was rising, and light was spreading out across the world.

  The view was incredible, but John was worried. There’d be nowhere to hide in the daylight.

  Twenty minutes later, they’d made it to the southeast corner of Valley Forge Park. />
  They crossed over a road and made their way into the park, which was, in parts, thickly forested. They crossed a single dirt trail as they headed deeper into the wilder areas of the park. Cynthia knew the way well, which was good, because John wouldn’t have known which way to go. If he’d been by himself, he could have easily found himself exiting the park by mistake, or heading to the main trail and the parking lots.

  For all John knew, there were people in the park. After all, it was the biggest public space in the entire area. Maybe people would have come here to camp, to get away from the power outage, thinking that they were far enough removed. John already knew better. There wasn’t any escaping this madness. At least not until one was much farther away.

  John was exhausted when he finally set his pack down. He lay on the ground and stared up through the trees at the slowly brightening sky. Near him, Cynthia was softly crying.

  “We’re going to have to hide out in the woods for the day,” said John. “We can eat, and then you can rest. I’ll take first shift, and then wake you up in the middle of the night.”

  “OK,” said Cynthia, her voice soft and weak.

  He knew that he had no words of comfort for her that would ring true.

  “You’d better eat something,” said John, groaning as he finally sat up, getting into a cross-legged position. He started rummaging through his pack for the energy bars, and handed one to Cynthia.

  “Thanks.”

  “I’ve got to take a leak,” said John.

  He hadn’t urinated since the shed, where he’d gone in the corner, leaving himself to deal with the smell for the rest of the day.

  He walked a little ways away from Cynthia, heading further into the park. When he looked over his shoulder, he could still see her, sitting there, her energy bar untouched and unopened.

  He undid his pants and let out a sigh of relief as the urine started to flow.

  In the silence of the morning, without any nearby freeway traffic, there was nothing but the sound of the birds and squirrels.