Texas Strong_Post Apocalyptic EMP Survival Fiction

by Bobby Akart

  “Wait, let me see,” said Riley, reaching for the binoculars. “There should only be—dang, there is a fourth body. And I think it’s moving!”

  “Stop the truck, Preacher,” instructed Duncan from the backseat. “We need to be very careful here. Riley, grab your rifle and open your door. After you get outside, leave the door open for cover. I’ll do the same. Chris, you monitor every move with the binoculars. If anything looks out of place, let us know. Preacher, drive forward slowly so the doors don’t slam shut on us. We’ll use the doors as cover and be prepared for anything, right, Riley?”

  “Dang straight. They’d better not have messed with my truck!”

  Duncan and Riley exited the flatbed and took up their positions behind the doors. Preacher began to roll forward, allowing the idle speed of the Ram truck to determine the speed. As they got closer, Slaughter described what he saw.

  “I’ve got one guy tied to a road sign, body is limp and head rolled to the side. If he’s alive, I’d be surprised. Jeez, looks like the crows pecked at his face. Two guys lying on the ground. Dried blood near their bodies. Fourth body appears to be a boy. Not a child, but not a teen either. I’m gonna guess seven to ten years old, maybe?”

  Duncan looked ahead and assessed the situation. There were no other opportunities for an attacker to hide themselves besides the truck itself. The land was completely flat, and there was nothing but scrub brush around.

  “Chris, can you see under the truck or even inside?” asked Duncan.

  “Not really, we need to get closer. Hey, it is a young boy. He just raised his arm and tried to wave.”

  “Step it up, Preacher,” instructed Duncan. “C’mon, Riley, break cover. Keep your rifle’s sights on the kid. I’ve got everything else.”

  Duncan slammed his door shut and began running the final hundred yards to Red Rover. Riley was clomping down the highway in his boots, so Duncan made a mental note to discuss footwear with his siblings. You couldn’t sneak up on anybody wearing cowboy boots.

  As the guys drew closer, Duncan lowered himself and scanned his rifle’s scope under the truck, looking for any unwelcome surprise. He could see to the front now, and there were no legs or bodies in view.

  “Stay frosty, Riley! Keep your rifle on the kid!”

  “Got it,” he responded as he closed the gap.

  Duncan reached the Landy first and looked inside the windows. The supplies and clothing left behind when he’d discovered Red Rover on Christmas Eve were all gone. The entire truck had been cleaned out.

  Riley shouldered his rifle and knelt down next to the young Hispanic boy. “Hey, little man. What’s your name?”

  The boy barely turned his head to reveal a black eye and a bloodied nose, which had crusted over. He moved his mouth, but nothing but dry air came out.

  Riley turned to Slaughter, who had just arrived in the truck. “Bring me a bottle of water. Hurry!”

  “We’re clear,” announced Duncan as Preacher joined the group. Preacher was carrying his rifle and began to walk slowly around the perimeter.

  Slaughter tossed the water to Riley, who spun off the cap.

  “Go slowly,” warned Duncan. “Just enough to wet the inside of his mouth at first. Then a little more to moisten and cool his throat. There’s no need to talk yet.”

  Duncan removed his camouflage shemagh, the scarf he was given in the Middle East, and handed it to Riley. Riley moistened it and began to wipe the dried blood off the young boy’s face, who winced at the slightest pressure.

  Riley moistened the scarf again and wiped off the boy’s lips. A slight smile came across his battered face as he looked up to his rescuer. There was a sparkle in the youngster’s eyes as he blinked and managed a smile.

  Riley tried to assess his injuries. “Don’t talk, okay? Can you nod or blink?”

  The young man smiled and nodded. He tried to speak, and a coughing fit overcame him. He reached for the water bottle, and Riley allowed him to have a little until he was satisfied.

  “Better?”

  The boy nodded and then winced again.

  Duncan and Slaughter positioned themselves to block the sun from the boy’s eyes. It was fairly cool, so heat was not an issue. But the combination of the dry air and the unobstructed sun had caused the youngster to dehydrate.

  “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

  “No, just my face,” the boy replied, surprising everyone with his quick recovery.

  Riley set the water aside and placed his hand behind the boy’s back, encouraging him to sit upright. The boy nodded and pushed off the pavement until he was leaning up against Red Rover’s right front tire. Now he was ready to drink the entire bottle of water, which he did.

  Duncan retrieved another one from the truck and knelt down next to the boy. “What’s your name?”

  “John Flores. They call me Little John because my dad is Big John.”

  Riley laughed. “Okay, Little John, where’s your mom and dad?”

  The boy began to get teary eyed. “Daddy is in Odessa, in the jail. Me and mom were going to find him ’cause they took away our house in Lubbock.”

  “Little John, where’s your mom?” asked Duncan, who immediately scanned the area again to look for another body.

  The boy began to sob as he buried his face in his arms. His dehydration didn’t stop the tears from flowing down his battered and bruised face. He slowly regained his composure and allowed Riley to wipe his face with the shemagh.

  “We stopped here because the road was blocked. Mom was scared because of the bodies, and before we knew it, a truck blocked us in.”

  In between gasps for air and sniffles, he finished the story. “Mom tried to get back into our car, but one of the men tackled her. It was right over there.” Little John pointed toward the front of Red Rover.

  “Little John, did they take your mother away?” asked Riley as his face began to turn red from anger.

  All the young boy could do was nod his head before pointing toward the east and Patricia.

  Riley jumped up out of his crouch, pulled his rifle off his shoulder with a death grip, and stomped up the highway a dozen yards before Duncan joined him.

  “Riley, I know what you’re thinking,” started Duncan as he caught up to his brother. “I wanna hunt them down and give ’em the same treatment these guys got. We can’t do that right now. We can’t protect the ranch and play lawman.”

  “What about the kid? Doesn’t he deserve justice?” Riley shot back.

  “Right now, what Little John needs is a chance to live, and you’ve given him that.”

  “How? What did I do?” asked Riley.

  “For one, you insisted we come back and pick up that candy-apple-red jalopy. If we hadn’t, the boy would’ve lain there and died. Second, I saw the look in his eyes when you revived him. It was the look of appreciation, brother. We can’t help his mother, but we can help him. Let’s get him well and safe. Then we’ll talk to Dad about finding the boy’s father in Odessa. He and I are going to Austin in the next several days. We’ll find a way to get him reunited with his dad.”

  Riley sighed and put his rifle back on his shoulder. Duncan gently patted him on the chest, and the guys returned to Little John, who’d recovered from his emotional breakdown.

  “Boys, we need to get this show on the road,” said Preacher with a look of concern on his face. “I don’t like sitting out in the open like this.”

  Riley cleared the road of the dead bodies while Slaughter and Duncan helped guide Preacher around Red Rover so they could use the winch to pull it up on the back of the trailer. When the diesel truck had run out of gas, air had gotten into the injector pumps. They needed to return it to the ranch, where they could bleed the air completely out of the fuel lines and injector pumps before the engine would start and run properly.

  When the truck was loaded, they piled into the flatbed and started back toward the ranch. Both Duncan and Riley kept an eye on their surroundings, unsure of where the criminal
s were who abducted Little John’s mother.

  During the ride back, Little John relayed the events in Lubbock that forced them to leave. The boy recalled what he’d heard his mom say to their neighbors.

  Parts of the city were under siege. The military had pulled out to protect the borders, leaving local law enforcement on their own. Little John said a large group had been going door-to-door in their neighborhood, stealing food at gunpoint. Frightened, she had hastily loaded up her son in the car on Christmas morning and headed for Odessa, hoping to reunite with her husband.

  Unfortunately, in this world, apocalypse or not, thugs and thieves didn’t take Christmas Day off.

  Chapter 7

  December 26

  The Armstrong Ranch

  Borden County, Texas

  Palmer and Sook had taken to one another like sisters. After the excitement of her arrival had worn off and the Christmas festivities were over, Palmer spirited Sook away from Duncan so they could get to know one another. Palmer took her around the ranch and taught Sook the history of her family. Sook marveled at the size of their property and then stared in amazement when Palmer led her through the herd, which had remained on the ranch after the collapse.

  Their final stop was the barnyard, where Palmer introduced Sook to Miss Lucy’s pride and joy. They toured the banks of the Colorado River, the beaver dam, and the windmill. The entire time, Sook asked questions and Palmer helped her with her English. Eventually, they found their way into one of the barns and settled on some hay bales to talk.

  “There is nothing like this in North Korea,” said Sook. “Even the government-owned farms are not full of cows and chickens. We rely upon China and United Nations humanitarian aid for our food.”

  “And fish, right?” asked Palmer.

  “Yes, of course. Fish. Until yesterday, I have not had meat in many years. No chicken either. Only fish and lots of porridge.”

  “Porridge?” said Palmer inquisitively.

  “Yes. It is a basic North Korean food. When it is available, we use oats, rice, and wheat.”

  Palmer smiled and said, “I think you’ll enjoy Momma’s cookin’. We don’t have much porridge or fish, though.”

  “Good. That is good!”

  The girls laughed at Sook’s response. Then Sook became melancholy. Palmer suspected she was thinking of the fate of her family.

  “Sook, I wish we could tell you more about what happened after the bombs,” started Palmer. “They don’t let the news people into North Korea, so we do not know for sure.”

  “I have prayed for my family,” Sook said. “My father was so proud to give me a better life. He saw my destiny, and Duncan helped fulfill it. For that, I thank God.”

  The girls sat in silence for a moment as they shared the emotions associated with the likely death of her entire family.

  Sook broke the silence. “I want to be productive. I want to help around the ranch.”

  “Great,” started Palmer. “Miss Lucy will always need help at the house. I am sure—”

  “Yes, Palmer. I will help Miss Lucy, but I want to help defend the ranch. I know there will be trouble coming soon. I want to fight, and I am not afraid.”

  Palmer stood up and knocked the hay off her jeans. She removed her hat, loosened the hair tie so that her blond hair could flow freely, and then addressed Sook’s request. “Okay, have you ever shot a gun before?”

  “No, but I have good vision and a steady hand. I can make sutures on a body’s open wounds without glasses.”

  Palmer began to laugh, which received a puzzled look from her new friend. “I guess that helps. I will speak to Duncan and my parents. If they say it is okay, I will help teach you, but I am sure Duncan will want to help.”

  “He is very patient and kind, not like the young men in North Korea,” said Sook. “They did not respect women, especially the soldiers. The soldiers did not understand no.”

  Palmer probed Sook’s eyes, hoping that she hadn’t been attacked or sexually assaulted at some point in her life. Her eyes became steely and somewhat cold.

  “I hope they never—” started Palmer until Sook raised her hand and shook her head.

  “Not me, but others my age. My father taught me taekwondo as a very young girl. I am very good. Duncan will tell you.”

  Palmer retook her seat on a hay bale and crossed her legs under her. “Is that like karate?”

  “Karate is a Japanese way to fight. It uses hands and not feet as much. Taekwondo uses hands, but involves more kicking, jumping, and spinning.”

  “Wow, and you can do that?”

  “Yes, I will show you,” said Sook as she stood and moved to the middle of the barn. She immediately became a different person. Her face was focused and her eyes were emotionless. She jumped slightly and turned her body sideways to Palmer. With her knees slightly bent, she shifted her weight to her rear leg.

  “Are you gonna kick me?” asked Palmer apprehensively.

  Sook didn’t respond, but rather stepped forward slightly, jumped into the air and spun, leading with her front leg. Her body looked like a ballerina doing a complete three-hundred-sixty-degree turn, only her leg was raised and ready to strike. She landed on her feet and then crouched slightly, jumping once again with her legs kicking in both directions.

  As she landed with her feet only slightly apart, she stared at Palmer and smiled. “Would you like to learn taekwondo?”

  Palmer stood up and raised her hands to Sook to give her a double high five. “Oh yes, please. And then we’ll practice on Riley!”

  Chapter 8

  December 27

  The Oval Office

  The White House

  Washington, DC

  A month after the EMP strike, America was descending deeper into collapse. As many war planners had predicted, the broad-range effects of the dual EMPs were far greater than the nuclear warheads that had struck the cities of the United States. Millions of lives were immediately lost due to the nuclear detonations, with more left dying from radiation exposure.

  The deaths across America resulting from lack of nutrition, health care, and proper shelter spread slowly but systematically to all corners of the once mighty nation. A sense of despair had overtaken the American psyche as its government was unable to meet the basic needs of its citizens.

  “Madam President,” began Chief of Staff James Acton, “to be fair, nobody could’ve predicted the severity and devastation wrought by the EMP.”

  “Yes, James, somebody did, but Washington didn’t listen,” replied President Alani Harman. She sat behind her desk in the Oval Office, staring out upon the South Lawn. “The threat of an EMP was brought to the forefront with the EMP Commission. As is typical, Congress and other administrations voiced a resounding we agree, then did nothing about it. The excuses always revolved around funding. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not being hypocritical here. I thought the possibilities were far-fetched, and had I been in DC during those years, I would’ve found lots of places to spend money besides hardening phone lines and such. I’m just pissed because it happened on my watch.”

  Acton took a seat in a chair next to the bust of Martin Luther King Jr. The man who had a dream would’ve never dreamed this. He sat quietly for a moment, as he wanted to choose his next words carefully. His anger towards Texas, President Burnett and newly elected Vice President Gregg had not subsided. In fact, as America collapsed before his eyes, he became more committed to getting even with those uppity Texans and their bigger-than-life persona.

  He’d been on the right track until he got busted by Gregg over the bridge fiasco. As a result, he’d have to be careful about which tactics he chose in the future. His best option had just presented itself this morning.

  “Madam President, you are highly respected around the world,” started Acton. “World leaders are not hesitating one iota to lend a hand. The problem on our end is logistics. Without power to operate heavy equipment, we’re unable to handle incoming container ships. Even if w
e could off-load them, we don’t have a nationwide distribution network of trains, trucks, or even airplanes to move the supplies to where they’re needed most.”

  “Wow, James. You really know how to cheer a gal up. I don’t need to be reminded of the mess we’re in.”

  “There is a potential solution, which has been offered today.”

  “What?”

  “The United Nations, ma’am. They are prepared to send a sizable contingent into Texas, which would be used as a staging area. Then—”

  The president held up her hand. “James, why are we even discussing this? Marion will never allow the UN on Texas soil. They rejected the secretary general’s offer to join the United Nations with a big, fat forget it!”

  Acton allowed the president to finish but persevered. “She has also proven she can be bought. I’m hearing their food situation is getting worse. Despite her resounding win, as soon as Texans realize how close they are to starvation, her authority will be challenged.”

  “You wanna bribe her? With what?”

  “Same as before, a cut of the food, except this time, we’ll handle—I mean the UN will handle the logistics completely. She gets food for her Texans without lifting a finger.”

  “I dunno, James. I suppose it’s worth a try. How would it work?”

  Acton pushed off the arms of the chair and walked toward her desk. He used it as a map of sorts.

  “It would work like a hub-and-spoke system, similar to what was used on a smaller scale during the Berlin Airlift in ’48 and ’49.”

  After World War II, an agreement was reached to divide and occupy the large city of Berlin into sectors. West Germany was controlled by the United States and its allies. East Germany, which included the nation’s largest city, Berlin, was controlled by the Soviet Union. Berlin, however, was divided as well by a wall into West and East Berlin. West Berlin was an island surrounded by Soviet territory and occupation.

  As was often the case, cooperation between the two superpowers broke down over economics. The Western Allies introduced a new form of currency, the deutsche mark, into West Berlin. In response, Moscow ordered a blockade of all transportation routes into West Berlin. They also built a fence, and then a solid block wall, to prevent East Berliners from fleeing to the more prosperous west sector.