Surviving The EMP (Book 6): Final Stand

by Casey, Ryan

Susan lifted her rifle. So too did Trent. Pete stood there, knife in hand. They were getting closer to the place where Jack and the others had been taken. So it stood to reason they might bump into someone on the road. Someone guarding that place.

  At least they were armed. At least they were ready.

  Susan kept totally still, her heart racing. She listened to that shuffling movement and stared at the hedge. For a second, she thought it might just be an animal.

  But then she saw a glint in the mid-afternoon sun.

  The flash of metal.

  The metal of a pistol.

  She lifted her rifle, and she didn’t hold back.

  She pulled the trigger. Fired a few shots off into that hedge, right where she’d seen the glimpse of the gun.

  And then she stopped.

  The movement had stopped.

  There was silence.

  She crept over towards that hedge. Got closer towards it. Villain still growled, seeming unsure.

  She got right up to it, rifle still raised, and then she stopped.

  She stared into the thick hedge. Looked around for a fallen body. Looked for a trace of someone.

  “You see them?” Trent asked.

  Susan kept still. Kept her rifle pointed. Kept silent.

  “Susan? Do you—”

  Out of nowhere, a crack against the side of her head.

  She fell into the hedge. Felt the brambles scratching her. Felt the wounds on her stomach searing with pain. She tried to hold her ground. Tried to kick back. But the person holding her was stronger than her. Dragging her into the hedge.

  She kicked and punched and bit and scratched. She knew she’d be able to fight back normally, but she was weak, and the pain in her torso just kept on growing more intense. Her grip on her rifle loosened. Somewhere over her shoulder, she could hear Villain barking. She hoped he’d come to help her. But at the same time, she didn’t want anyone else to put themselves at risk.

  She struggled onto her back, and she saw him.

  A big bloke. Muscular. Smelled a little of raw, uncooked meat.

  He had this smile on his face.

  A smile that told Susan exactly who he was, right away.

  He grabbed her wrists with one huge hand. Pinned her down to the cold, icy ground.

  And as much as she struggled, as much as she tried to break free, there was no getting out of this situation.

  Especially not with the pistol in his hand.

  “You’re not going anywhere, dear,” the man said. “You’re coming with us.”

  He leaned in closer to Susan’s face, and the only thing she could do was spit at him.

  He looked down at her, disgusted. And then he wiped that spit away, and he smiled.

  “You’ve got fight. We’ll see to that. Don’t you worry.”

  He pushed the pistol against her stomach.

  She cried out with pain. Sharp, burning hell engulfed her body. She wanted to stand up for herself. She wanted to fight. She wanted to—

  A blast.

  Warm liquid covered her face.

  The taste of copper on her lips.

  She lay there a few seconds as the weight of the man fell down on her.

  And then she wiped her eyes and looked up.

  The man’s head had burst. She could just about make out that smile, still on his broken, bloodied face.

  Behind him, Trent stood, rifle in hand.

  He pushed the man out of the way, kicked him to one side.

  And then he grabbed his pistol, stuck it in his pocket, and held out a hand to Susan.

  Susan grabbed his hand. Struggled to her feet. The pain in her belly felt worse than before. But she had to push on anyway.

  “You okay?”

  Susan wiped the blood from her eyes. “I will be.”

  “If you need to take a breather, we—”

  “I’m okay.”

  She stepped out of the hedges, then, a little shaken up, and barely able to stay on her feet. Pete stood there with Villain by his side. His eyes lit up when he saw her. That momentary relief.

  “Susan,” he said. “Are you—”

  “Alright, alright. Let’s not make a big deal out of it. I’m fine. Anyway. Trent got you a present.”

  She looked at Trent. Saw him frown a second. “You sure?”

  She nodded. “I’m sure.”

  Trent sighed.

  Then, he reached into his pocket, lifted out that pistol, and threw it towards Pete.

  Pete jolted out of the way at first like it was a hot potato flying towards him. But he caught it, held it, looked at Trent then at Susan.

  “You sure?” Pete asked.

  Susan sighed. “Jeez, man. If even you’re not sure, I’m not sure what to make of that.”

  Pete shook his head. “No. I’m sorry. I just… well. Thanks, I guess.”

  Susan nodded back at him. She saw him with that pistol in hand. Then she saw Trent, rifle in his hand, and she grabbed hers again, too.

  She looked at the road ahead.

  And in the distance, she saw something.

  Movement.

  A shipyard.

  She limped a little down the road towards it. Took a few breaths. The place didn’t look sinister from here. But she knew it was often the most benign looking places that ended up the most dangerous.

  “Looks like we made it,” she said.

  She looked at Trent and at Pete. Saw the way Trent scratched his head. The way Pete looked around, clearly uncertain.

  “You two definitely okay about this?”

  They looked at her. And as uncertain as they looked, they both nodded.

  “Guess it’ll be my turn to bail you out next time,” Pete said. “Level the playing field, or whatever.”

  Susan rolled her eyes. She looked at that shipyard in the distance. Held tightly on to her rifle as the pain in her belly grew.

  She took a few deep breaths and forced herself to ride out the pain and the nausea.

  “Let’s go save our friends,” she said. “Let’s go finish this. Once and for all.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jack crouched on his knees.

  It was late afternoon. The sun was fading. A chilly breeze brushed its way from the sea across this shipyard. The thick grey clouds teased an oncoming storm.

  But in the grand scheme of things, it seemed irrelevant.

  People were lined up beside him, all of them with tape around their mouths, all like him. Every time he tried to see who was beside him, a man standing behind him punched him and made him look ahead.

  There was something in front of him. A large, rusty feeding trough.

  At the bottom of it, he swore he saw bloodstains.

  He glanced up to his right again as the pain from his beating wracked his body. He saw Hazel by his side. And just along the row, he saw Candice, too. He was simultaneously relieved and terrified to see her. At least she was alive, on the one hand.

  But on the other… she was in the same shitty situation as he was.

  But there was no sign of Emma.

  The people standing behind were all holding long, sharp knives. The scene reminded Jack of some of those ISIS execution videos he’d had the displeasure of watching. A weaker group on their knees. A more dominant, powerful group standing behind them.

  And even though his hands and feet weren’t tied, he knew one thing for sure.

  There was no escaping this.

  Jack looked at Hazel. She looked back at him. There was so much he wanted to say to her. They’d just had their closest moment in years. And right after it, they’d been dragged out here to face their fate. It was cruel. Bittersweet. They were so close to salvation, and now they were staring death right in its evil eyes.

  He wanted to tell her he loved her.

  And then he felt another crack against his face, and he tasted blood.

  When he looked around this time, his vision hazy and blurred, he saw Jefe standing before him.

  He stood in t
he middle of this group. Smiled at them all.

  “Friends,” he said, walking down the length of the trough. “It’s always a pleasure to bring new people on board. It’s always extremely exciting. But sometimes… sometimes our new friends just won’t listen. They just won’t learn. As strong as they are. As much as we want to give them a chance… we just know they aren’t going to align with us. They aren’t going to respect our views or our values.” He paused a minute. Looked Jack right in his eyes. “It is with deepest regret that I’m afraid to say that you fall into that category.”

  He felt something, then. A hand on his shoulder. Cold metal to his throat.

  He shuffled. Tried to cry out. Tried to raised his hands, only to have them knocked out of the way.

  He had a blade to his neck.

  All of the nine people sitting here had blades to their necks.

  Jefe stood there. A smile on his face. He seemed utterly unfazed by this. Utterly unconcerned with what he was doing.

  He walked back down the row of people. Looked at each one of them as he passed by. “We always persevere with people. We always try giving people the benefit of the doubt. But unfortunately, it just doesn’t work out, sometimes. Whether it’s a desperate clinging to old values or just a plain weakness… it is what it is. And unfortunately, we’ve only got limited space in our ranks.”

  He stopped right opposite a dark-haired man. Looked down at him as he kneeled there, shaking.

  “We could let you go,” he said. “We could set you free. But that’s the problem with people like you. You just don’t know when to quit.”

  He glanced up at the man standing behind this dark-haired man.

  Nodded.

  In an instant, the man with the knife slashed open the other man’s throat.

  The dark-haired man struggled. Spluttered behind the silver tape over his mouth. Blood crept up its sides, spurting out as the man fell forward. Clutching his throat. Blood pouring into this trowel.

  Jack’s body seized up. He’d been half-expecting something like this. But seeing it so plainly and brutally right beside him filled him with nausea and sickness.

  Especially because Hazel and Candice were lined up beside him.

  Jefe walked further along the row of people. More of them were struggling now, trying to break free. Muffled cries echoed from beneath the tape on the mouths of the victims. And all Jack could do was kneel there. All he could do was watch.

  And all he could do was wait.

  “So now you see,” Jefe said, walking away from the dark-haired man’s twitching, struggling body. Blood pooled out into the trough, right before Jack’s face. He could smell it. Bitter. It sent shivers down his spine.

  Jefe stopped right in front of Jack. He stared right at him, right into his eyes. Smiling.

  “I hate sacrifices,” Jefe said. “Especially when the people we’re sacrificing are strong.”

  He glanced up at the man standing behind Jack.

  The knife tightened against Jack’s neck.

  Jack lifted his hands. Tried to scramble free.

  But that just made the knife dig in deeper.

  Jefe’s smile widened. Jack kept on shuffling, kept on struggling.

  And then Jefe lifted a hand.

  The knife on Jack’s neck loosened.

  Jack could breathe again.

  He knelt there, shaking. Watched as Jefe stood there, smirking.

  And then Jefe turned around and looked at Hazel.

  “Maybe we don’t have to take the strongest of you out after all,” he said.

  Jack’s heart pounded. He swung around his arms. Tried to kick free.

  But every struggle was in vain.

  The man behind him punched him in the back of the neck.

  Then the side of the head.

  There was nothing he could do but watch.

  Jefe stood over Hazel.

  The man behind her held that long, sharp blade to her throat.

  “Maybe we can just teach our new friend a lesson or two about what happens when he steps out of line.”

  Hazel shook her head. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

  Jack kicked and punched and screamed beneath that tape.

  She looked around, then. And in her eyes, Jack saw something.

  She wasn’t afraid.

  She wasn’t angry.

  She was just accepting.

  He wanted to tell her he loved her.

  He wanted to tell her he wasn’t going to let anything happen to her.

  But he couldn’t.

  He just couldn’t.

  Jefe scratched at his head and sighed. “It’s a shame when we have to tear families apart. But it’s all for the greater good. Right?”

  He turned around to Jack.

  Smile widening.

  And then he looked at the man standing over Hazel, and he nodded.

  Jack tried to scream.

  The tape stopped him.

  He closed his eyes and waited for the sound of Hazel’s blood hitting the trough.

  The love of his life dying beside him with nothing he could do.

  He waited for her struggles. Waited for her muffled cries.

  And then, out of nowhere, he heard the blast.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Emma heard the gunfire and braced herself for the worst.

  The people around her started running around and losing their minds. There were little holes in the mud where they perched underneath, trying desperately to cover themselves from whatever was coming. She tried to keep herself together, tried to keep her cool. But seeing all this fear around her made Emma afraid, too.

  Especially Jade’s fear.

  Jade stood there for a second, staring into space. She started scratching her chapped, muddy body. Emma could see puss on her arms. Blood trickling down her skin. She wasn’t in a good physical state, that was for sure.

  “Jade,” Emma said. Above, she heard more gunfire. More shouts. She wanted to get up there, but at the same time she didn’t, because she didn’t want to see what was waiting there for her.

  But Jade was still frozen solid. Still scratching her arms. Like she was in another world completely.

  “Jade!” Emma shouted.

  Jade looked at Emma. And in that instant, Emma felt such sadness. Such sympathy. Because Jade wasn’t as strong as Emma. She’d never been as strong as Emma, that much was clear now.

  Emma was the one who was going to have to step up.

  And she had to step up fast.

  She looked around at all these terrified people. Only a few of them were standing their ground.

  Emma realised she had to step up.

  Not just for Jade.

  But for everyone here.

  She looked around at everyone as the blasts continued, and she took a deep breath.

  “Do you want to die a victim like this?” she screamed.

  A few of them looked around at her. Most of them kept on running and fleeing. But she had the attention of a few of them now, at least.

  And that gave her hope.

  “Do you want to die a victim down here? Or do you want to go out fighting?”

  A few more people stopped. Looked at her like they didn’t even know who the hell she was or when she’d got here.

  “Or do you want to stand up for yourselves?”

  “There’s nothing we can do,” a man to her left shouted. He was skinny. Pale. He looked exhausted.

  Emma shook her head. “You’re wrong. There’s so much we can do. We can stand up. We can fight. Even if we die, we can fight. Because if we don’t… we die victims. But we’re not victims, are we? We’re survivors. We’ve made it this far. All of us. No matter where we’ve come from, we’re still here. And we’ve got to keep on going.”

  A few more people stopped. And a few people nodded, too. Like they saw what Emma was saying. They saw where she was coming from.

  “It doesn’t matter how much we don’t want to frigging die,” Emma said. “
If we stand here and accept defeat, we die. But if we fight… we go down as the survivors we are.”

  Silence grew. There were still shouts and pandemonium above, but all of it drifted into the background as the people down here—all fifteen or so of them—all stood together.

  And then one person started to clap.

  Another followed. And then another. And then before Emma knew it, all of them were standing there. All of them were applauding her.

  She looked around at Jade, and she saw Jade smiling at her.

  She was afraid. Terrified.

  But she was with her.

  They were together.

  She took a deep breath.

  Then she looked up the side of the pit they were in as footsteps approached.

  She took Jade’s hand. Tightened her grip around it.

  “We’ll go down fighting,” she said, a lump in her throat as she waited for the bullets to reach her. “We’ll go down together.”

  They all stood there, all of them together, all of them with their heads held high as those footsteps got closer.

  All of them holding hands now, too.

  She took a deep breath, and she braced herself for the end.

  At least Mum would be proud.

  At least Jack would be proud.

  And at least Logan would be proud, too.

  She closed her eyes.

  Then she opened them.

  She couldn’t keep them closed. She had to watch. She had to stare her killers in the eye.

  She heard the footsteps get closer.

  Jade tightened her grip around Emma’s hand.

  “I’m scared,” Jade said.

  Emma tightened her hand back. “I know,” she said. “Me too. But I’ve got you. We’ve all got each other. That’s what matters. Right?”

  They stood together. Shaking. Crying.

  But heads held high.

  Survivors.

  And then she saw the figure emerge at the mouth of the pit, rifle in hand.

  She braced herself to be gunned down.

  Braced herself for the bullets to hit her.

  But then she frowned. Her breath catching in her throat. Her heart skipping a beat.

  Because this wasn’t the enemy.

  It was a man she knew.

  “Trent?” she said.

  Chapter Nineteen