Defending Camp_A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller

by Ryan Westfield

  He squeezed the trigger again.

  The SUV was even closer than before.

  There wasn’t any point in worrying about the consequences or trying to calculate the odds. He’d already made his decision.

  Another bullet hole appeared in the window, only a few inches from the last one.

  Max dove out of the way at the last minute. He hit the pavement hard. His rifle fell from his hands.

  The SUV sped past him.

  Was the driver dead?

  The SUV was off course, speeding towards the side of the road at an angle. It careened off the road. It didn’t flip like Max’s truck had. Instead, it dipped, nose down, right into the little gully. The back tires spun wildly, lifting up in the air.

  Max glanced back at the other SUV. It was already turned around, heading in the opposite direction, away from Max and Mandy and everything.

  The car doors of the crashed SUV opened rapidly.

  Three men jumped out.

  They had overgrown beards. They were dressed as civilians. One wore a track suit. Another wore a flannel shirt, and another was dressed like an urban hipster, with tight jeans and an ironic t-shirt.

  They were armed. Semi-automatic rifles. They jumped down from the backseat, landing roughly on the ground.

  Max needed to get to cover.

  He only had a moment while the men recovered from their jump.

  Max’s body was pumped full of adrenaline. His hands and feet were cold and his heart was thumping.

  Where was Mandy?

  A shot rang out, sounding like it was coming from the trees.

  One of the men fell. The one with the flannel shirt. He hadn’t even made it up from the ground.

  Max was dashing behind the flipped-over pickup. There wasn’t time for him to get to the cover of the trees. This would have to do.

  Mandy had taken one of them out for him.

  But the men were returning fire now, shooting into the trees where the shot had come from. Mandy had enough sense not to fire without having good cover, considering the numbers.

  Taking fire, she wouldn’t be able to get off another shot unless Max distracted them.

  Max got around to the other side of the pickup. Hopefully it’d give him the advantage of a slight surprise.

  Max exposed himself, stepping out from behind the pickup. He had his rifle raised, his eye to the scope.

  The hipster was in his sights. He saw Max before Max could fire the shot.

  Max pulled the trigger.

  No shot went off.

  The rifle was jammed.

  Max stepped back behind the cover of the pickup just in time. Gunshots in quick succession rang out.

  It must have missed him by mere inches.

  No point in thinking about it. Wouldn’t do any good.

  Max checked the rifle.

  It was useless to him now.

  There were other rifles but they were in the pickup, inaccessible now that it was flipped.

  Max tossed it to the ground and drew his Glock from its holster.

  He wasn’t out of the Glock’s range. But his accuracy wouldn’t be as good.

  He had to return fire soon.

  The two men were shouting unintelligible things to each other.

  A strong breeze blew through, ruffling Max’s hair. A cloud that had been covering the sun moved out of the way, and the sun shone brightly down on Max.

  The sound of another rifle shot rang out. Mandy’s, probably.

  Max didn’t know if she’d hit one of them or not. No cries or screams came.

  Either way, it was time to move.

  Max popped his head around the other side of the truck, his Glock pointed and ready, his finger on the trigger.

  The hipster was running towards the truck at full tilt, leaning into his sprint, his gun held at his side in one hand. A bad move.

  Max stepped out fully from behind the truck to get as clean of a shot as he could. The Glock was lowered and Max took careful aim. For the moment, he had to ignore the presence of the second man and the danger involved in exposing himself further. Sometimes to get something done, you had to put your head down and ignore everything but that one task.

  Max squeezed the trigger. Twice. In quick succession.

  One of the shots missed. The other hit the hipster right in the chest, destroying his shirt. He went down, his gun clattering to the pavement as he fell heavily.

  Max didn’t know where the other man was. He ducked back behind the truck, holding his Glock pointed towards the sky.

  There was a sound on the other side of the truck. Footsteps. A stick or twig breaking.

  Max saw the man before he had time to lower his Glock.

  He was close. Five feet away. He held his gun pointed to the ground, loosely.

  Their eyes locked for a moment.

  They were both raising their guns at the same time. Time seemed slow.

  A crack rang out. Gunfire. A rifle.

  The man dropped his gun, clutching his arm. He’d been shot in the upper arm.

  So Mandy was still alive.

  Max had gotten his Glock raised. He didn’t wait. He didn’t hesitate. He pulled the trigger.

  The bullet struck the man in the forehead. A clean shot.

  Max stood still, only moving to lower his Glock. His heart was pounding in his chest.

  Was it really over?

  He still needed to check the crashed SUV.

  Navigating the area around the flipped pickup and the corpse, Max walked to where the SUV was tilted in the ditch. The engine was still whirring and the back wheels were still spinning. The SUV was four wheel drive, and the front tires were digging slowly into the ground, pulling the SUV slowly inch by inch.

  Inside, there was no one but the driver. There’d only been the four men.

  The driver was dead, slumped over the wheel, a bullet wound in his chest, which was stained with blood. His foot was still pressing against the gas pedal.

  “Mandy!” called out Max. “It’s clear.”

  Mandy was already exiting the cover of the trees, leading with her gun.

  “You injured?” shouted Max.

  She was still some distance away.

  “No,” she called out, shaking her head. “You?”

  Max shook his head. “Come on. We’ve got to get our gear.”

  There wasn’t any hope in tipping the pickup back over.

  Mandy was jogging over, as Max made his way back to the pickup, reaching into the bed trying to grab his pack, which was lodged in a corner.

  “What are we going to do?” said Mandy. Her forehead was sweaty. She was pushing her hair back behind her ear. “Are we going to carry all this?”

  “There’s a reason we brought packs,” said Max. “We’re not going to be able to get the SUV unstuck. We’re walking from here on out.”

  “Shit,” muttered Mandy.

  Max had gotten a hold of the strap of his pack and was about to pull it towards himself when he heard something.

  “What’s that?” whispered Mandy. Her voice sounded full of worry.

  Max turned around.

  Down the road, coming from the way they’d driven, was the SUV that had driven away not long ago.

  “Looks like round two,” said Mandy.

  The SUV was driving fast. It swerved now into the empty oncoming lane, hugging the shoulder, kicking up dirt and plastic bags as if sped along.

  Behind the SUV, Max could now see another car. It was an older model American made car, riding low to the ground. Which meant it was packed full of people.

  There was no way they could fight them all off. They’d gotten lucky once. They weren’t going to get lucky again.

  “We’ve got to go,” said Max.

  “But our gear!”

  “Now!” shouted Max.

  He grabbed Mandy’s wrist and started pulling her away from the pickup.

  He let go only as they both broke into a sprint. They were headed for the trees.


  They had to make it.

  Max’s leg was killing him. And it was slowing him down now. It was always worse the more exhausted he got.

  But he kept at it. His arms were swinging. His boots were slamming into the ground.

  Max glanced back over his shoulder. The vehicles were getting close. Too close.

  Mandy made it into the cover of the trees first. Max followed.

  They didn’t stop running. They had to slow down as they wove their ways through the densely packed trees.

  There were no leaves on them. But they could hide behind the trunks, just as Mandy had.

  “Behind the trees!” shouted Max.

  Mandy was slightly ahead of him. She heard him, and darted behind a thick tree trunk.

  Max did the same, pressing his back flat against the cool trunk. He was out of breath, and his chest was heaving from exertion. The only gun he had was his Glock.

  He didn’t dare stick his head out. He waited, silently, glancing over at Mandy.

  From the sound of it, both vehicles stopped instead of driving on by.

  Maybe they were just stopping to see what had happened to the dead men. Or maybe to retrieve something from the crashed SUV. Or to pilfer the gear from Max and Mandy’s pickup.

  Or maybe they were there to track down Max and Mandy. And kill them, for some unknown reason. This time with more men.

  If they came after Max and Mandy, what would give them a higher chance of survival? Staying to fight? Or fleeing?

  Max’s leg was killing him. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was slower than he should have been.

  But they couldn’t stay to fight. There was no way they’d make it.

  Without seeing what was going on, Max had to guess what was happening from the noises.

  Car doors slammed closed.

  “Get the gas!” someone shouted.

  No talk yet of finding Max and Mandy.

  “You got a lighter?”

  What did they want a lighter for?

  Silence for a long minute.

  “Give me that!”

  Someone said something else, but Max couldn’t make it out.

  “Come on. Let’s get the hell out of here!”

  Max glanced over at Mandy. She was watching him with wide eyes, her eyebrows raised. She looked nervous and afraid.

  A couple car doors slammed.

  Suddenly, there was a loud bang. Sounded like an explosion.

  What had happened?

  Max heard the vehicle engines starting, and he heard the unmistakable sound of them driving off.

  “Are we in the clear?” whispered Mandy.

  “Sounds like it,” whispered Max. “I’m going to check.”

  He stood up. He led with his Glock, getting out from behind the trunk.

  The SUV and the car were gone.

  There was still a chance they’d left a man behind. But Max doubted it.

  The flipped pickup truck was in flames. The fuel tank had exploded. The men had set it on fire. Large flames licked at the edges of the chassis. It was a tower of red and orange flames, with blue inhabiting the center and trying to get to the top.

  The SUV, too, was burning. But it hadn’t yet exploded.

  They’d already settled on the fact that they’d be walking from here on out.

  But now they were without their gear. And there was no chance of recouping it.

  “Shit,” muttered Mandy, standing now beside Max.

  “What do you have with you?” said Max.

  “Always going right to the practical,” muttered Mandy, fishing through her pockets.

  Max said nothing. He was thinking about what he had on his person, which wasn’t much. He had some pemmican in his pocket and a small bottle with a water filter built into it. The bottle was about half-full right now. He had his Glock, his knife, a compass, and a fire starter and some alcohol-soaked cotton balls.

  He could start a fire, defend himself, make a trap, know which way he was headed. The pemmican would last about one day. But he knew he could push himself without food for far, far longer than that. He wouldn’t die of thirst so long as he could find a source of water.

  Of course, this all depended on what Mandy had with her. He had her to think about, too.

  “Um…” said Mandy. “I’ve got… not much…”

  “Any food?” said Max.

  “Nope,” said Mandy, shaking her head.

  She was still checking her pockets, patting each one as if she might find something else.

  “I’ve got some caffeine pills,” muttered Mandy.

  “No pemmican?”

  “It was in the truck.”

  “And the maps?”

  “In the truck. I’m sorry, Max.”

  “We’ll be fine,” said Max, making mental calculations on how many calories might be in the chunk of pemmican he had in his pocket.

  They stood there between the barren trees by the highway, watching their truck burning along with most of their gear.

  “What are we going to do, Max? Are we still going to try to rescue that kid?”

  Max was lost in thought, his gaze fixed on the flames.

  Finally, he spoke. “I don’t think we’d be much help at this point,” he said.

  Mandy nodded silently.

  “It’s time we head home,” said Max. “There are people there who need our help just as much as that kid.”

  “He’ll be fine,” said Mandy. But her words sounded hollow. “And we did what we could, Max. We both know it’s too dangerous to keep pushing on.”

  Max nodded. “Well,” he said. “At least we know what the world is like outside the hunting grounds. It’s still chaos. Maybe worse than before.”

  “Don’t say that,” said Mandy. “This is just one part of the country. Who knows what it’s like elsewhere. Maybe it’s not so violent everywhere.”

  “Somehow,” said Max, “I have the feeling it’s the same all over.”

  Mandy stepped closer to him, and Max put his arm around her back, his hand on her side, pulling her closer to him.

  They were alive. But it was a long walk back to camp.

  27

  DAN

  Dan had to act quickly. There wasn’t much time.

  He was in a complete panic. He was trapped. He had to act but he couldn’t.

  What could he do?

  There wasn’t any way he could get free without being noticed.

  He gazed off into the distance, his eyes unfocused, as the pickup drove through the streets.

  By pure chance, he happened to glance at the other prisoner, the woman. She looked right back at him and to his surprise, she began blinking rapidly at him.

  He stared back at her.

  She kept blinking.

  What did it mean?

  Then he noticed that the pattern of her blinks was changing. She was trying to communicate something. Some form of code.

  The only code Dan knew of was Morse code. And he didn’t actually know it. Sure, he was familiar with SOS.

  Was that what she was doing? Giving him the SOS signal? It sure seemed like it. Three slow blinks, three fast ones, the pattern repeating over and over again.

  Dan knew that wasn’t actually the pattern. But he also knew that a lot of people didn’t know it. Maybe this was the woman’s approximation of it.

  But Dan already knew she was in trouble.

  What was the point of telling Dan that?

  They were both in trouble and they weren’t like to get out of it.

  But when she started directing her eyes pointedly over to the soldier, Dan started to think she might have been trying to communicate something else.

  What was it?

  She wanted Dan to do something, most likely. What other reason would there be to communicate with him?

  Dan couldn’t move. He couldn’t attack the man.

  The only thing he could do was speak.

  In the action movies he’d seen, one crucial element was
always “the distraction.” If you couldn’t fight, you could distract the bad guy.

  Maybe that was what she wanted him to do.

  Of course, it seemed pointless.

  It wasn’t like she could do anything herself. She was tied up.

  But Dan figured he had nothing left to lose.

  “Hey, buddy,” said Dan, calling out loudly to the soldier.

  “What’s up, kid?”

  “I was wondering if you’ve always been this ugly.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You heard me,” said Dan, speaking loudly and clearly. “I was asking if you were always this ugly. Or if it’s something that happened to you after the EMP. You know, all this rough living and be hard on someone’s looks, if they’re, you know… delicate.”

  “I’m not delicate, kid. You’d better watch your mouth and shut the hell up. I’m the one with the gun, remember.”

  “Yeah,” said Dan. “But I also know I’m supposed to be some child laborer in a mine somewhere. If you don’t deliver me alive, you’re not going to get your reward, whatever that is. Maybe you’re dumb enough to think money still means something.”

  That was too much for the soldier. He was growing reddish in the face. He stood up, a little wobbly on his feet, since the truck was, after all, moving.

  He moved rapidly towards Dan.

  Maybe it hadn’t been the best plan.

  At the last moment, right before the soldier reached Dan, the woman sprung up.

  Somehow, she’d gotten out of her ropes. They lay, torn apart, on the metal bed of the truck.

  She sprang up and forward, throwing herself against the soldier, like a vicious, wild animal.

  She knocked him down and they fell together.

  A gunshot rang out.

  But the movement didn’t stop.

  Dan couldn’t see what was happening. They were a tangle of bodies.

  The soldier screamed.

  He stopped moving.

  The woman rolled off from on top of the soldier, revealing the soldier’s bloody throat with a slit running right across it from end to end. The woman held a bloody knife and her arm was bloodied. She’d been shot in the upper arm.

  She crawled over to Dan quickly.

  She cut the ties that bound him rapidly.

  “Did they hear the gunshot?” she whispered. Her voice was frantic.

  Dan shook his head. He was stunned.