Turning Point: A Post Apocalyptic EMP Survival Fiction Series (The Blackout Series Book 3)

by Bobby Akart

  Victims of assaults didn’t care about the punishment in store for their attacker. They just didn’t want to be a victim again. They were shocked, angry, and afraid of a possible repeat of the attack. Oftentimes they questioned themselves in pursuit of answers as to why this happened to them.

  In a post-collapse world, it was hard to convince someone that survival included constantly being under attack by those who wanted what they had. Socially moral people would choose to take the high road in this new norm and focus on defending the ones they love and their belongings.

  Or they became the aggressor and focused on taking what they didn’t have with no morals or standards as to what methods they employed. These aggressors were the threats to the rebuilding of society. While the socially moral individuals tried to recover from the catastrophe and search for solutions, the morally depraved sought to use the weakness of the world around them as an opportunity to better their position.

  Ordinarily, the law of the jungle, every man for himself, kill or be killed, was kept in check by the laws of society. Post-collapse, those laws were discarded, and those survivors of a catastrophic event who didn’t recognize that the law of the jungle was no longer kept in check succumbed to the attacks of their aggressors.

  Madison finally stopped sobbing and Colton wiped away the tears from both of their faces. He held her and tried to take the pain away. She’d killed someone, defending her family. There was no shame in that.

  Alex had been walking the road, watching for travelers through the binoculars. She returned to Colton and Madison with the AR-15 slung over her shoulder by the strap.

  “Mom, Daddy,” started Alex, pointing over her shoulder with her thumb. “There’s a man walking this way alone. He appears to be weak, but we should probably leave.”

  Madison sniffled and shook her head. “Yeah, let’s go. I’m ready.”

  Colton helped his wife get settled in the backseat as Alex took her position in the front—riding shotgun. After everyone was in place, Colton fired up the Wagoneer and continued west.

  “Colton, I’m so sorry,” said Madison from the backseat as the truck sped past the lone walker on the highway. He didn’t even look in their direction. Madison continued. “I should’ve known that was trouble. I should’ve driven right past them.”

  “You didn’t know, darlin’,” said Colton. “It looked innocent enough and those people genuinely appeared to be in trouble. It was an elaborate setup that could’ve fooled anyone.”

  “Daddy,” interrupted Alex, “I need to check this next overpass. I’ll tell you when to stop, okay.”

  Colton nodded and continued another half mile, at which point Alex had him pull over. She jumped out of the truck with the rifle under one arm and the binoculars held in the other. He was impressed with her adaptation to this new way of living.

  “I wish I could be strong like Alex,” said Madison as she began to tear up again. Colton turned around and leaned over the seat to hold Madison’s hand.

  “Listen to me, Maddie,” he started. “You saved us from getting hurt back there. It was your quick reactions behind the wheel that threw those marauders all over the pavement.”

  “But I killed that girl.” She was sobbing again.

  “She got what she deserved,” said Colton reassuringly. “You can’t just go around attacking people without cause. When you do, punishment will be meted out. You absolutely did the right thing.”

  Madison shook her head with a halfhearted acknowledgment. She looked exhausted. Alex jogged back to the truck and announced through the window that it was all clear.

  “Daddy, we’ll have to stop again in a few miles. Also, I just wanna point out that the sun is beginning to set. It’ll be dark in about an hour.”

  “Alex, how many more crossroads do we have before we hit the Duck River?” asked Colton.

  Alex referred to the map and did some calculating. She replied, “Two more after this next one. Then it’s a long stretch until we hit the Duck River Bridge, which, at this pace, is about an hour away.”

  Colton turned to Madison again. “I’ve got an idea, Maddie,” started Colton. “I don’t want to cross that bridge at night, so we’ll hit it early in the morning. It’s a straight shot to Savannah and on to Shiloh from there. Whadya think about finding a spot to get settled in for the night. I’ll cook you dinner.”

  “Oh boy, I can hardly wait.” Madison laughed as she regained her composure. “Methinks I’ve had enough for one day.”

  Chapter 13

  DAY FIFTEEN

  6:15 p.m., September 23

  Fattybread Pond

  Near Williamsport, Tennessee

  “Here we go,” said Colton as he gingerly turned the Wagoneer off the road and up the embankment. “We’ll find a spot up on this hill behind those trees. And if Alex’s calculations are correct, there should be a pond and lake up here.”

  “I confirmed it on the GPS, Daddy,” started Alex. “If the truck can make it up there, we should be only another hundred yards away from the clearing.”

  Colton spun the tires on some pine needles as he wound his way through the overgrown four-wheeler trail. He knew he was close when he saw a deer stand up ahead. Deer hides usually sat on the perimeter of a clearing. One last incline and they’d be there.

  “Hold on, y’all!” Colton gunned the engine, and after a hop or two over some rocks, the Wagoneer emerged on top of the hill. The boys at T-Ricks would’ve been proud.

  “Very nice, dear.” Madison laughed. “It ain’t the Ritz-Carlton, but I like it.” It warmed Colton’s heart to see that Madison had recovered somewhat from the attack just hours ago. Maybe they could look at this as a little camping expedition and put the post-apocalyptic world out of their minds. But before they did that, they’d better check the perimeter before it got too dark.

  “Okay, listen up,” started Colton. “It looks pretty secluded up here, but we need to walk the perimeter and make sure there aren’t any surprises. I’ll walk clockwise and you all go the other way. We’ll meet on the other side of the lake.”

  “What are we looking for, Daddy?”

  “I don’t know. Look for fresh footprints, a well-worn trail into the woods, and signs of a campfire. Stuff like that.” The girls pulled their weapons and began the trek around the roughly one-acre pond, which appeared to have been formed by a sinkhole. Cattails surrounded the bank and occasionally a bird would fly and rest on top of a sausage-shaped spike before flying off for a more stable resting place.

  The woods could be a dangerous place for those unprepared or who hadn’t spent much time in the wild. Nature could be unforgiving and a lack of respect for the dangers could be deadly. Bears, feral hogs, and venomous snakes could all cause the unwary camper serious problems.

  In addition, aside from Mother Nature, the post-apocalyptic camper might have to contend with the most dangerous animal of all—their fellow man. Colton was fully aware that they might not be the only humans in the area. He planned on setting up some type of perimeter security to warn them against the four-legged critters, but sleeping with one eye open was the only defense against the two-legged vermin.

  As he walked around the edge of the woods, Colton was becoming more comfortable with the campsite. It was concealed well off the highway without an obvious access route. They also maintained the high ground over anyone who might wander up the trail.

  He would resist the temptation to build a fire, despite their hidden location. A fire in the middle of the night would be a signal to anyone walking in the area. They had battery-operated lanterns for lighting, and the temperatures this time of September were near a very comfortable seventy degrees at night.

  He had slept a couple of hours in the back of the truck earlier today, as had Alex. He’d let the girls sleep first and he would roam around the perimeter to keep an eye on things. It was a clear evening, allowing plenty of light from the moon to give him decent visibility.

  It only took a few minutes before he m
et up with Madison and Alex on the other side.

  “Did you see anything, Colt?” asked Madison.

  “Nothing at all,” he replied. “I suspect whoever hunts this area cut the four-wheeler trail up the hill and built the deer stand at the top of it. It doesn’t appear that anyone else comes up here.”

  “So whadya think, Daddy?”

  “Let’s go for it, my fellow happy campers.”

  They made their way back to the truck and discussed whether they should pitch a tent, find a spot to roll out their sleeping bags, or sleep in the truck. Nobody voted for sleeping in the truck. The nearly fifty-year-old seats were not comfortable.

  Colton cautioned against just laying the sleeping bags out in the open because of snakes, ticks, and mosquitos. After a hurricane had blown through Florida in July, mosquitos were transported into Middle Tennessee and they brought the Zika virus with them. The Zika virus was more aggravating than it was deadly for most people, but in a post-apocalyptic world devoid of doctors or pharmacies, there was no sense in pushing their luck.

  As a result of the process of elimination, they chose the safest route, which was the tent Madison had purchased the day the lights went out. Colton laid down the rear seat, which gave him access to the back of the Wagoneer. He pulled out some more bottled water for them, his planned dinner, and the tent, which the girls quickly set up.

  Colton took the same approach to security as he had that first night. He strung a fishing line between the trees that were closest to the truck. After dinner, he would use the empty cans filled with pebbles from around the edge of the lake to create a rattling warning system. After the girls got settled in the tent, he’d walk the perimeter, but he’d mostly stay up in the deer stand. This would give him a clear field of vision for the entire surroundings, as well as the ability to watch the wooded trail between them and the Trace. Overall, he was very pleased with the setup.

  “We’re ready for inspection, Scoutmaster Ryman,” announced Madison as she gave her husband a hug around the waist. She whispered in his ear, “Thank you for taking care of us.”

  He turned to her and kissed her. “We all take care of each other,” he whispered. “Now, let’s check out this tent.” Colton walked around and pretended to test the ropes and stakes, but he could already see that it was sturdy. He was playing along for fun. They needed to laugh after this eventful day.

  “Excellent work, scouts. As your reward, in lieu of merit badges, I promised you a gourmet meal. Find a place to sit and I’ll be right back.”

  “We can hardly wait, right, Mom?”

  “Oh yeah.” She laughed.

  Colton made his way to the truck and shuffled around in the back. As it grew darker, Alex turned on a couple of the battery-powered Coleman lanterns to give them some light. She placed them on the ground to keep them hidden from the road.

  “Here we go,” said Colton. He gave them each a can of Vienna sausages, Crown Prince sardines, and some Ritz Crackers. “In addition, we have a choice of condiments, which include French’s mustard and Tabasco. Bon appetit!”

  “Well, aren’t we lucky, Alex?” Madison laughed.

  “Sure are, Mom. Would you like to trade your Vienna sausages for my sardines?”

  “Deal.”

  The three of them enjoyed their camping cuisine and helped Colton create the security system. After they’d cleaned up, Colton dug out some Tootsie Pops he’d found at Mrs. Abercrombie’s home the evening they discovered her body. Madison wasn’t aware he’d found them there, so she shouldn’t get upset by the memory.

  “I used to be a Boy Scout, you know,” said Colton.

  “No way, Daddy. Really?”

  “Yup, and when we went on camping trips, we used to sing this song just for grins and giggles. It’s called a repeating song. I know it’s goofy, but humor me, would ya?”

  “Sure,” replied Madison. “Get us started.”

  “Okay, here’s what you do. I’ll sing the lyrics and you guys have to repeat them right back to me.”

  “No prob.”

  “Okay, here goes,” started Colton. “I say boom—chucka—boom.”

  “What? Mom, really?”

  Madison was in stitches, doubled over in laughter. She nodded her head and said, “C’mon, Allie-Cat. Just this once.”

  “I’ll start over,” said Colton in all seriousness.

  “I say a boom—chucka—boom.”

  “I say a boom—chucka—boom,” said the girls, who repeated each phrase.

  “I say a boom—chucka-lucka—boom.”

  “I say a boom—chucka-lucka—boom.”

  “I say a boom—chucka-lucka—chucka-lucka—chucka boom.”

  “I say a boom—chucka-lucka—chucka-lucka—chucka boom.”

  “All right?”

  “All right!”

  “Now slow,” said Colton, slowing the pace. “I say a boom—chucka-lucka—chucka-lucka—chucka boom.”

  The girls repeated slowly. “I say a boom—chucka-lucka—chucka-lucka—chucka boom.”

  “Now fast. I say a boom—chucka-lucka—chucka-lucka—chucka boom.”

  “I say a boom—chucka-lucka—chucka-lucka—chucka boom.”

  “Okay?”

  “Okay!”

  “We’re done!”

  “Thank God!” Madison and Alex laughed as they rolled on the ground, delirious in laughter.

  Chapter 14

  April 20, 1978

  Spring Break

  Galveston, Texas

  There was a time in the life of Betty Jean Pusser when she woke every morning with fear and anxiety and didn’t know why. Fear was a given that she factored into the events of the day like a stone that never left the sole of your shoe. An adult might’ve called the ability to live with that kind of fear a form of courage. If so, for Betty Jean Pusser, it might have been courageous, but it wasn’t very much fun.

  She lost her fear on a Saturday during spring break of her senior year in 1978, when her grandmother let Betty Jean join some of her high school friends on a trip to Galveston Beach, fifty miles south of Houston. This was her first trip away from home and her grandmother was none too pleased about it, but there was no stopping her from going. Despite her delicate appearance, nobody stopped Betty Jean Pusser.

  She and her friends had a fine day playing Frisbee on the white sandy beach, which eventually grabbed the attention of some young men from Little Rock. The guys invited the girls to play a friendly game of Nerf football, which lasted until evening.

  They built a bonfire as the sun set and the guys brought sacks full of food from Whataburger. Before long, a bottle of Jim Beam was making the rounds and then out came another. Betty Jean declined at first. She was sensitive to the criticism leveled at her father for allegedly being drunk the night of his fatal accident. Betty Jean was always on a mission to defend her father’s reputation, and not drinking alcohol was her way of proving that she didn’t have the drunk gene.

  One of the boys, Preston Atkins, was particularly sweet on Betty Jean. When he invited her to take a swim out to the sandbar near the Galveston Pier, she agreed to join him. The Gulf of Mexico was not only murky and cold, it was also a favorite hangout of tiger sharks. She was flattered at the older boy’s attention, and she would’ve never done this by herself, but he seemed nice and harmless—not as drunk as the others.

  They waded through the breakers and Preston reached over and held Betty Jean’s hand. This sent a chill through her body, causing her back to tingle through her sunburn. The only sounds were the gulls and the water slapping against their bodies.

  “C’mon.” He laughed as he let go of her hand and dove headlong into the dark water. Betty Jean inhaled deeply, dove into the first wave, and kept stroking through the next one and then the one after that until she caught up with Preston at the sandbar.

  The water became suddenly frigid, causing her to shudder. The waves sliding over her became heavy as concrete, causing her to lose her balance and fall into the arm
s of Preston. He was pretty, in an Elvis sort of way—lots of jet black hair with beautiful, yet haunting eyes.

  Her world became surreal as the hotels and palm trees on the beach became miniaturized. Preston held her and whispered in Betty Jean’s ear that he would keep her warm. Then he kissed her. It was dreamy, not like the clumsy attempts of the boys back home. Her body warmed and responded, and she kissed him back. It felt good.

  Then Betty Jean felt her heart seize. The fear was back. Not because of Preston, but because they were surrounded by jellyfish—big ones with bluish-pink air sacs and tentacles that could wrap around your neck or thighs like swarms of underwater yellow jackets.

  Preston reacted quickly by swooping Betty Jean up in his arms and running with her across the sandbar as fast as he could until he sank in to the deeper water. She swam toward the shore like an Olympian, with Preston eventually catching up as the incoming waves gave them a boost.

  By the time they hit the beach, however, they were laughing, exhilarated by the thrill of escaping the menacing creatures. Holding hands, they ran up the beach to join the others by the bonfire.

  Preston told the story to the riveted crowd, and Betty Jean became mesmerized by the fire’s sparks twisting into the night sky. She was on top of the world. This time, when the bottle of Jim Beam made its way around the fire, she partook.

  And she had another, and another, and another.

  As the fire began to die down, she and Preston laughed with the others as jokes were told and funny stories were exchanged. From time to time, they shared a kiss, and as the night got colder, they huddled under a blanket together.

  “Hey, you wanna go back to my room where it’s warmer,” Preston whispered into her ear. His warm breath stirred feelings in her that she’d never experienced.

  Betty Jean nodded and the two left with the blanket and half a bottle of Beam. They giggled as they ran toward the Central Hotel, leaving the bonfire and Betty Jean’s friends behind.