Surviving The EMP (Book 6): Final Stand

by Casey, Ryan

  Emma looked away from her. She felt guilty for questioning her all of a sudden. There were things you just couldn’t know about people, as much as you thought you knew them. As much as you thought you could read them like a book.

  “What happened to her?”

  Hannah glanced away from the fire, around at Emma. “I was living in a cottage in the middle of nowhere with two other people. We were starving. Nolan, he was called. Never trusted him from the start. Always knew he was just... well. Bad. Sometimes, you can just tell. Anyway. I went out one day looking for food, looking for supplies. And I remember leaving Hetti there with Mike watching her. Mike was good. He’d do anything for her. Die for her if he had to. But that was the problem.”

  A bitter taste filled Emma’s mouth. She felt sick. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what was coming next.

  But Hannah continued.

  “I got inside. Found Mike dead right away. I could smell something... something cooking. Meat. I remember walking through the house. Heading outside. I remember seeing Nolan standing there. Standing over this barbecue. And the worst thing was smelling that smoke made me feel hungry. Smelling that meat made me feel hungry. Even though...”

  She looked away, then. Her words catching.

  Emma felt like throwing up.

  “I remember him saying it was just pragmatic. It was just what had to be done. But that couldn’t be true. It couldn’t be true because if it were just pragmatic, he’d have done what he did to Hetti to Mike instead. Or he’d have died before he did... before he did that.”

  Emma was speechless. Her heart raced. She felt hot and tired. She wanted to stop listening.

  “I remember what I did to Nolan. Every moment of it. I dehumanised him. I tore him to pieces. I listened to him beg for his life, and then I watched him die right before me. And you know what? No matter what anyone says, I felt good. I felt like I’d found some kind of justice. So if you need to find your own justice... well. There’s only one thing you can do. Anyway, kiddo. You should get some sleep.”

  She put a hand on Emma’s shoulder.

  Then she walked away, off towards the rest of the sleeping camp.

  Emma sat there, staring into the flames.

  She thought about Hannah’s awful situation.

  And she thought about what she’d told her.

  If you need to find your own justice... there’s only one thing you can do.

  She looked around at Hannah, sitting there in the woods, staring into the darkness.

  And then she put a hand on Villain.

  Stroked him.

  She took a deep breath, and she stood.

  She looked back towards Jefe’s camp.

  Towards where Renae would be.

  She felt pure hatred within.

  And then she pushed away any resistance, and she walked off into the night.

  Alone.

  Knife in hand.

  If you need to find your own justice... there’s only one thing you can do.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Jack stopped walking when the sun peeked over the horizon.

  He took a few breaths, tried to regain some energy. Slushy snow covered his boots right up to his calves. He was freezing. Exhausted. And the pain from his beatings was getting worse with every step. He knew he needed medical attention. He knew he needed rest.

  And he wasn’t even suffering the most out of everyone.

  He held on to Susan. Candice was at her other side, Hazel trailing close behind. Susan hadn’t walked a step for a long while now. Carrying her was slowing down their progress. And Jack couldn’t stop looking over his shoulder, fearful that Jefe’s remaining forces might be on his trail like an angry mob with nothing left to lose.

  So far, there had been no trace of them. But there was always that fear they might catch up eventually.

  “This place you told me about,” Mary said. “How far away is it?”

  Jack gritted his teeth as Mary led the way. She seemed a nice woman. Around her sixties, very skinny, pale-faced. Looked like something of a hippie. But she kept on asking how far away they were from the place they’d seen the helicopters. And the truth was, Jack wasn’t sure anymore. Not with their progress so stifled by carrying Susan.

  But he had to keep his patience. He had to maintain his composure.

  “We’re getting closer.”

  Mary nodded. “I just—I just worry we aren’t going to make it. Not with... not with Susan struggling so much.”

  “We’ll make it.”

  “I’m not being rude. I just—”

  “We’ll make it. Okay?”

  Mary sighed. Jack regretted snapping at her—or at anyone at this stage. They had to stay united. They had to stay together.

  The problem was, he knew Mary was right to be worried about Susan.

  Her face was deathly pale. Saliva drooled from her lips. Her skin was cold to the touch—even colder than it should be in these weather conditions. There was a strange sour smell to her, as sweat trickled from her forehead. She had a fever. No doubt about that. Her stab wounds were probably infected.

  He just hoped to whatever god was up there that the place with the helicopters could help her.

  He’d not come all this way to lose someone else.

  And Susan hadn’t saved everyone just to die like this, either.

  “What’s that?” Mary asked.

  She’d stopped dead right before them.

  Jack’s instinct was to tut. He was growing irritated with Mary. “What’s what?”

  “I heard something. Up ahead.”

  Jack stood still. He tried to listen. Truth be told, he couldn’t hear much. His ears were blocked and ringing. Felt like he was coming down with the flu himself. “I don’t hear anything.”

  “No,” Candice said. “Mary’s right. I hear it too.”

  Tension grew inside Jack’s chest. He looked over his shoulder, off into the trees. He swore he saw things moving in there. He thought he heard whispers. People approaching. Closing in.

  Hazel narrowed her eyes as she stood at the head of the group. “Is that...”

  She didn’t have to say anything else.

  Jack heard it now.

  The sound of an engine.

  Above.

  He looked up to the grey, cloudy sky.

  A helicopter passed over them.

  A helicopter just like the ones they’d followed from Heathwaite’s.

  Flying in the direction they were heading.

  Jack smiled. Hazel laughed. And for a moment, Jack swore he saw Susan open her eyes and glance above.

  “Looks like we’re on the right track after all,” Jack said.

  He went to take another step towards Mary as she stood there, smiling, when he saw something ahead.

  It was only subtle. But there was no denying what it was.

  Movement.

  Movement in a bush to their left.

  Jack held up a hand. He reached for his rifle. Eased Susan’s weight onto Candice, then edged forward.

  He was leading this group.

  So he would deal with whatever threats they faced going forward.

  He crept past Hazel and Mary. Waded through the sloppy snow. Lifted his rifle, prepared to fire at whatever awaited.

  And then he heard something.

  A growl.

  He froze. He’d heard rumours about escaped zoo animals out in the wild, but he’d never seen one.

  He watched that bush shake, and he thought about what might come walking out. A lion. A tiger. A bear.

  He licked his dry lips. Pointed his empty pistol with his shaking hand. Waited for whatever hid in there to emerge.

  And then he saw it.

  A cat wandered out.

  Big. Fat. Black and white.

  Meowing at him.

  For a moment, he just stood there, stunned.

  And then he lowered his pistol. Laughed. Laughed out loud, louder than he’d laughed in forever.

 
“Mrs Fuzzles?” Hazel said. “Mrs—Mrs Fuzzles!”

  Hazel ran towards Mrs Fuzzles. Candice dragged Susan over towards her too, laughing along with Jack and Hazel. Mary stared on like they were all insane.

  They reached Mrs Fuzzles’ side. Petted her. Truth be told, she just looked at them like she wasn’t all that fussed to see them. Even though they’d lost her back on that icy lake, right back when they’d met Jefe’s people for the first time.

  Jack patted her head. “Creepy bastard,” he said. “Creepy, lovely little bastard.”

  He petted her some more. And then he turned around, and he saw something.

  Susan.

  Her eyes were open.

  She was smiling.

  “Stupid cat,” she muttered.

  And then her eyes closed again, that smile still on her face.

  They all sat around Mrs Fuzzles. And as exhausted as Jack felt, as defeated as he felt, he felt something else. For the first time in a long time.

  He remembered why he did this.

  He felt hope.

  He looked off into the distance, off towards where the helicopter headed.

  They were going to find the rest of their people.

  They were going to make it to their new home.

  And nothing was going to get in their way.

  Chapter Thirty

  When Trent opened his eyes, he knew something was wrong right away.

  He felt groggy. His sleep was disturbed and restless. The cold hit him the second he woke. For a moment, as he stared up at the trees, he had no idea where he was or how he’d got here. He thought he was back with Martin, on the road, travelling to find another group to steal from.

  And then he looked around and saw his people, and he felt relief.

  Because that’s what they were now. His people.

  There weren’t many of them here. Emma. A girl called Hannah, who didn’t have much to say. And two blokes—Darren and Paul. Apparently, they’d spent weeks trapped in that hellhole run by that Jefe nutter. Barely any food or water, and it showed—they were gaunt, pale, and they smelled like shit.

  But hell. All of them smelled a little nowadays. Trent could hardly hold it against them.

  Trent got up. His back ached right away. Something he’d been suffering with for the best part of three years now. His mum always told him to get down to the doctors. His uncle Frank had a back problem, and his turned out to be cancer.

  Trent doubted it was cancer. But then he’d never know now anyway. No way of proving if it was or wasn’t.

  Just taking each day as it came, and being goddamned grateful to be alive.

  He pushed himself to his feet. The plan was straightforward. They were gonna head off for Barrow first thing. No time to dick around. As much as he knew Jefe’s people were defeated, he didn’t wanna stick around or give them a chance to catch up. He was done with the violence and the fighting. He just wanted a new beginning.

  He looked over at the fire. Darren struggled to light it. Trent shook his head, walked over towards him. How could anyone get this bloody far and not know how to light a fire? Madness, that’s what it was.

  “You having trouble there?” Trent asked.

  Darren looked up at him. A panicked expression to his boyish face. “I’m usually good at this. Just give me another minute or two, and I should have it.”

  Trent sighed. He snatched the twigs from him. “Your problem is, you’re not using enough force. How’d you get this far not knowing something so basic, anyway?”

  Paul smirked, shook his head. “Ask myself the same question every day.”

  Trent noticed something, then. Darren and Paul, they seemed pretty close. At first, he’d thought they were brothers, but there was something else to them. Something he hadn’t realised at first.

  They were a couple. No doubting that.

  And it wasn’t a problem. Hell, Trent wasn’t even sure why he noticed it. He supposed he’d never truly grow past his homophobic old dad’s curses. If you ever turn out a faggot, lad, he used to say, I’ll kill you my goddamned self.

  And that sorta talk, it could fuck with a kid. Got to the point Trent didn’t even want mates round in case Dad thought he was a “faggot” for it. He needs more girls round, Lucille, he’d shouted, cigarette in hand, perched in that same smelly-ass chair as ever. Worried the boy’s spending too much time with faggots.

  Funny thing, really. Mum ditched the old bastard the second she found him shitty undies around his ankles wanking off to an immense stash of gay porn one day.

  So much for “faggots”.

  Darren rolled his eyes at Paul. “He’s always putting me down. But he’s the one who never did any bloody DIY in his life.”

  “Yeah, well,” Trent said as he rustled the pieces of wood against one another. “I guess this world has weird ways of bringing new skills out in all of us.”

  He stopped, then. Because he realised something. It was only momentary, but when it hit him, that sense of dread filled his body all over again.

  “Emma,” he said.

  Darren looked up at him. Frowned. “Huh?”

  “Emma,” Trent said, dropping the twigs. “Where’s Emma?”

  Darren and Paul looked at one another. “Shit. She’s… I’ve not seen her all morning.”

  But Trent was looking at Hannah now. ’Cause she was the one on guard last night. She was the one on guard when he’d last seen her.

  “Hannah?”

  She glanced up at him. Kept on ruffling Villain’s fur. Smile on her face.

  And then she shrugged. “Haven’t seen her.”

  She looked back down. Fussed Villain some more.

  Trent clenched his jaw. He knew when someone wasn’t being straight with him. He crouched down opposite Hannah. Grabbed her cheeks so she was looking right into his eyes. Felt that old fire burning through all over again. That violence within. “Where is she?”

  Hannah sighed. She pulled her face free of his grip. “Look. She… she was struggling with what happened to her friend. I just told her what I thought she needed to hear.”

  “What the hell did you tell her?”

  Hannah looked right into his eyes. “I told her if she wanted her revenge, she should go get it.”

  Trent’s stomach turned. He felt his face heating up. Had to struggle to keep himself under control. “You told her what?”

  Hannah sighed. “Look. She suffered a goddamned tragedy. Sometimes, it helps to get the revenge you deserve.”

  Trent couldn’t contain himself anymore. “You sent her back there? Back to those savages?”

  Hannah sighed. “She’s a good kid. She’ll cope—”

  “They’ll kill her. You bitch. I don’t give a shit what your motives were or whatever. You’ve sent her to her death. You realise that. Don’t you?”

  “That’s the problem with you people. Don’t you see? The girl wants to make her own choices. She’s made it this far in this world. You really think suffocating her is gonna help her?”

  Trent stood. Turned around. He rubbed the sides of his temples. “We have to go back for her.”

  “Whoa,” Darren said, standing from the unlit fire. “We’ve just got away from that place. We’re not going back.”

  “Then I have to.”

  He looked around at Hannah.

  “And she’s coming with me.”

  Hannah’s face dropped.

  And for a moment, Trent felt pleasure in that.

  Especially as he pointed his rifle at her.

  Hannah cleared her throat. “It’s not—I’m not sure that’s the right decision—”

  “You sent that girl to her death. The least you can do is help her out of it.”

  He looked around at Pete and Darren.

  Put a hand on each of their shoulders.

  “You keep on walking. You’ll hit a road. Don’t stop for anything. Follow the signs for Barrow. And guys… good luck.”

  They looked back at him. Shook their heads. />
  Paul put an arm around Darren. “He’s right. He has to do this. We have to go.”

  Darren nodded. He held out a hand to Trent. “Whatever happens… I hope we see you again.”

  Trent took his warm, sweaty hand. “Me too.”

  He shook Darren’s hand, then Paul’s.

  Watched them walk off into the woods.

  Out of sight. Towards whatever kind of future was out there.

  And then he walked over to Hannah. Villain by her side.

  He looked down at her. Tried to keep his anger under control.

  “Come on,” he said. “We’d better get moving. You’ve got a hell of a big mess to clean up.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  It was light, and Emma was lost.

  The air was icy. Her mouth was dry. She felt like she was coming down with a cold. She wanted nothing more than to be curled up somewhere warm, far away from here. She always thought about how life used to be when she felt sick. How she’d take days off school and curl up on the sofa next to Mum, hot water bottle at her feet, Lemsip by her side. And as rubbish as she’d feel, she loved those days. Precious time with Mum. Sacred time that nobody else was lucky enough to be getting because they were in school doing Maths and Science.

  She wished she could have that back.

  And then she thought of what happened to Jade, and she remembered why she was doing this at all.

  All around, she saw trees. They stared down at her like they were watching her; knew her thoughts. She swore she’d seen the same trees about half an hour ago, but she wasn’t sure. She didn’t know.

  She didn’t want to admit she was lost. But she wouldn’t know which way to go if she wanted to head back to Trent and Hannah.

  And she wasn’t sure whether she was heading the right way to get to where she really wanted to go.

  Jefe’s camp.

  Renae.

  Revenge.

  The woods were quiet. The only sounds were those of her feet slushing through the snow. She couldn’t smell any trace of people—fires, sweat, anything like that.

  She just felt lost. And that scared her.