Surviving The EMP (Book 6): Final Stand

by Casey, Ryan

  She crouched over him. Grabbed his arms. Looked into his face. And from where Emma stood, for a moment, she thought she might’ve detected sadness in Renae’s voice.

  “What happened?” Renae asked. “Who—who did this?”

  Emma stepped out.

  Knife in hand.

  She stepped right behind Renae.

  Placed that knife against the back of her neck.

  “I did,” she said.

  Renae’s body tensed. She stopped talking. Stopped breathing. She went totally still.

  And then she turned around.

  Looked into Emma’s eyes.

  And Emma let her.

  Just for a moment, she let her.

  Because she wanted her to know.

  She wanted her to see who was doing this to her.

  Who was taking everything away from her.

  Renae’s smile widened. “Go on then. Do whatever it is you want to do. Whatever it is you think’ll make you feel better.”

  Emma looked back at Renae. And this time, it was her who smiled.

  “This isn’t about me,” she said.

  She pulled back her knife.

  “This is about Lydia.”

  She swung the knife right through Renae’s cheek.

  Renae let out a pained cry.

  Emma dragged the knife from her mouth.

  And then she looked at Renae and smiled again.

  “And this is about Jade.”

  She saw the fear in Renae’s eyes.

  She saw the smugness was gone from her face, now.

  And she felt her smile widen.

  She swung the knife at Renae once more.

  And she knew Hannah was right.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Jack saw the man standing in the distance, covered in blood, and he froze.

  He’d appeared out of nowhere. And for a few seconds, Jack wondered if maybe he was hallucinating.

  But then he looked at Hazel, Candice, Mary. Saw them glaring into the distance. Eyes wide. And he knew right then there was nothing hallucinatory about this.

  He turned back around. Mrs Fuzzles growled by his side, nudging her head against his left leg.

  Blood trickled down the man’s face, covering his green military camo gear. He was about thirty feet in the distance, but Jack could tell from here that he was shaking.

  He could see the fear in his eyes.

  He couldn’t shake the feeling that another hurdle was surfacing. Stopping him reaching the place with the helicopters.

  “Who is he?” Mary asked.

  Jack kept his eyes on this man. He didn’t look like he was armed. But he knew appearances could be deceiving. “I should go check him out. Alone.”

  Hazel shook her head. Stepped forward. “You’re not going alone.”

  Jack sighed. “Hazel, I—”

  “I’m not losing you too. Okay?”

  Jack saw the pain in Hazel’s eyes. He heard the way her voice cracked. And he felt so sorry for her. He’d lost so much. But Hazel had lost everything.

  He nodded. “Okay. But just us. Okay? Just us.”

  He looked back at Candice and Susan. Susan still didn’t look well. She was drifting in and out of consciousness. Jack didn’t know how long she had left.

  Mary stood at the other side of Susan. Held her up. Helping now, as well as she could.

  “We need to check this guy out,” Jack said. “If there’s any signs he might be double-crossing us in any way... we know what we have to do.”

  Candice lifted Susan a little, struggling to prop her up. “Do whatever you have to do. But Jack?”

  Jack nodded. “What?”

  “Come back. Please.”

  Jack smiled at her. “I’ll try my best.”

  He turned around, then. Hazel by his side.

  He looked at her. “Ready to see what else this crazy world has in store for us?”

  Hazel smiled back. Nodded. “Wouldn’t want it any other way.”

  Then, they walked towards this man. Together.

  Jack kept his eyes on the man at all times. There was something off about him. The way he stood there, still as a statue. The way he wasn’t saying a thing. Creepy, that’s what it was. Made him think of Jefe’s tactics.

  As he got closer, about ten feet away now, he stopped. Lifted his pistol. “What do you want?”

  The man stayed totally still.

  Jack tensed his jaw. “I asked you a question. And believe me, I’m not gonna stand here waiting forever for a bloody answer. What do you want? What’s happened to you?”

  The man stayed silent. He stayed still. Kept on staring at Jack and Hazel. Eyes wide. Fearful.

  Jack took a deep breath. He had no damned choice. He was gonna have to take a heavy hand with this guy. He wasn’t dicking around. He’d finished playing games.

  “Look, whatever your deal is, we’ve been through enough shit already. We’re not messing around.”

  “They—they betrayed me.”

  The hairs on Jack’s arms stood on end. Betrayed him? What was this guy on about? And who was he on about? “You’re gonna have to give us more than that. Who betrayed you?”

  The man stared on. Eyes wide and glazed. Eyes that looked like they’d witnessed so many horrors.

  And then he looked at Jack again. “The people. The... My friends. I thought they were my friends. I thought they were good. But—but they betrayed me. All ’cause... all ’cause I disagreed. All ’cause I didn’t stand in line.”

  Jack grew more creeped out by the second. What the hell was this guy on about? And why was it filling him with so much fear? He took a few more steps towards this man. Kept his empty pistol pointed at him. “Your friends. Your people. Who are they? They Jefe’s lot?”

  The man mumbled something. Jack couldn’t hear from here.

  “What was that?”

  “Army,” the man said.

  Heart racing, Jack edged closer to the man. He was so close to him now. “Army?”

  The man looked right into Jack’s eyes.

  And then he lifted his arms.

  Pulled back his sleeves.

  “They did this to me. They did this to me and sent me out here. Like garbage.”

  A wave of nausea crashed against Jack.

  He took a step back.

  The man’s arms were carved open. On them, there were letters. He couldn’t make out what they said at first.

  But when he looked closer, he saw them clearly.

  TRAITOR

  Jack’s mouth went dry. He looked up into this man’s eyes. “Who did this to you?”

  The man looked back at him. Tears rolling down his bloodied face. “My friends. They—”

  “Who were your friends?” Hazel asked.

  The man looked over his shoulder.

  Then he turned around. Shaking. Blood dripping from his arms. His pale face growing a deathlier shade by the second.

  “The good guys,” he said.

  Jack shook his head. “The good guys?”

  And then the man said the words that rocked Jack’s world all over again.

  “The good guys. The armed forces. The people with the helicopters.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Footsteps in the distance.

  Trent lifted his rifle. Peered between the trees. He swore he could see movement up ahead. Swore he could hear voices. His heart raced. He felt like he was surrounded. Like someone was watching him.

  He thought back to the first time they’d run into Jefe’s group. The way they’d surrounded him out of nowhere. The way they used fear to force people into making stupid decisions.

  He didn’t want to run into them again. Even if they’d been mortally weakened. They still gave him the damned creeps.

  Hannah stood by Trent’s side. For the first time since they’d met, she actually looked a little scared.

  She looked at Trent. Like she was waiting for his word.

  He put a finger in front of his lips and lo
oked back ahead.

  He walked slowly through the mass of trees. The footsteps had stopped. But it sounded like someone was struggling. Like someone was begging.

  And the closer Trent got, the more he thought about Emma. He couldn’t help worrying about finding her out here. He knew Jefe wouldn’t be so forgiving with her, not if he ran into her again. He’d be ruthless with her. Brutal.

  And Renae...

  Trent had to get to Emma before any of that happened.

  He just hoped he and Hannah weren’t too late.

  The pair walked further through the trees. His heart raced. His rifle shook in his hands. He thought he heard something over to his right. Swung around. A bird. A damned spooked bird.

  He took a breath. Regathered his composure.

  Then he kept on walking.

  Visions of Emma circled his mind once more. The thought of her lying there. That same look in her eyes as that poor girl he’d taken out on Matthew’s orders, back at the village.

  He remembered holding her hand as she lay there, crying her eyes out.

  He remembered saying sorry to her. Apologising to her, again and again.

  And he remembered the way she just held on to his hand and told him she was scared. She was afraid.

  She just wanted someone to help her. Someone to comfort her. Someone to be there for her.

  Even if it was the guy who’d pulled the trigger in the first place.

  He went to take another step when he heard a cry.

  Ear-piercing. Just up ahead.

  A woman.

  A girl?

  No. He couldn’t think that way.

  He went to walk ahead a little quicker when he saw Hannah standing there, frozen.

  “Hannah?” he whispered.

  But she was frozen. Wasn’t budging. Breathing heavily. Looked like she was in the middle of a goddamned panic attack.

  Trent went over to her. Put a hand on her shoulder. “You need to keep your shit together, okay? You need to—”

  Another cry.

  This one wasn’t the same, though. It sounded... like an animal. Like there was no humanity in it at all.

  Trent looked at where it came from. It couldn’t be far away. A few steps ahead.

  He didn’t want to see what was causing the sound.

  He didn’t want to face it.

  But he knew he had to.

  He lifted his rifle and walked towards it once more.

  He heard footsteps behind. Hannah was following. She’d regained her composure, which was something at least.

  He walked closer towards those animalistic cries. His rifle shook. Flashes of a dead Emma kept on filling his vision.

  Flashes of the girl.

  The suffering girl.

  The dying girl.

  He closed his burning eyes and stopped right by a thick, evergreen bush.

  He knew whatever was going down was going down behind that bush.

  “Trent?” Hannah said.

  He looked around at her. Saw she was okay now. Half-smiling. Like she was ready.

  He looked around at the bush and took a deep breath.

  You’ve got this. You can do this.

  He paused a few seconds. Braced himself for whatever was ahead.

  And then he stepped around the bush and pointed his rifle towards the sounds.

  When he saw the scene in front of him, he froze.

  There was a woman lying on the ground. Blood pooled all around her body, staining the snowy forest floor.

  There was someone sitting on top of her.

  “Em... Emma?” Trent said.

  Emma spun around.

  She was covered in blood. Her arm was totally red like it had been dipped in dark red paint.

  She had a knife in her hand.

  Covered in blood, flesh, and hair.

  And there was someone underneath her...

  Trent heard Hannah throw up beside him. He felt like throwing up himself. It was the smell more than anything. That rich metallic smell. The sight of all the blood.

  But most of all... the fact that Emma had done this.

  A child had done this.

  Emma stood up from the woman on the ground, and Trent saw the woman’s face.

  Renae.

  Her eyes peered up in horror.

  She was quite clearly dead.

  But Emma held something besides the knife.

  Something in her hand.

  She walked over to Trent and Hannah, a deadness to her eyes.

  And then she stopped right in front of them.

  Looked at Hannah, who had vomit drooling from her mouth.

  “You were right,” Emma said. “Sometimes, it does feel good.”

  She dropped a bloody disc on the floor and wiped her hands on her coat.

  Then she walked past Trent and Hannah.

  “Come on. We’d better get moving to Barrow.”

  Trent stared at the disc on the ground.

  The little inch-long chunks of hair clinging to it.

  The bone-white contrasting with the deep red flesh clinging to it.

  Renae’s scalp.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Jack sat by the side of the road and watched the snow fall.

  He had no real idea what time it was. Probably late afternoon. Specks of snow slithered past in the breeze. Every now and then, birds sang in the sky, moving on with their lives without any idea of any of humanity’s conflicts or struggles. He supposed they would all seem irrelevant to a species who had never relied on power themselves.

  But Jack found himself listening for something else, too.

  The sound of helicopters moving overhead.

  He hadn’t heard any since the ones in the woods earlier. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. Not after what he’d heard. Not after what he’d been told by the man they’d come across in the road.

  The man told them that they’d punished him. That they’d cut him up and banished him from whatever home it was they’d established for themselves.

  And then he’d died. He’d fallen to his knees, and he’d bled out before Jack could question him any more; before he could find more out about this place. And before he could even find out his name.

  A place Jack had put so much hope into.

  Gone.

  “Jack?”

  He looked around. It was Candice. She looked worried.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  She rubbed her arms, her teeth chattering in the cold. “It’s not me. It’s Susan.”

  Jack’s stomach sank. He’d been fearing the worst for a long time. She’d been stabbed. She’d pushed herself further than she should’ve done. She’d needed urgent medical attention. She hadn’t been able to get to the place with the helicopters in time.

  And even if they had... what was the point?

  That place wasn’t what Jack wanted it to be. It wasn’t the place he’d told himself it was.

  All of his hopes were for nothing.

  He got up without asking a thing. Followed Candice past a few of the abandoned cars. He dreaded what he was going to find. But he had to be prepared for anything. He’d seen enough shit in this world already. He’d been losing people long before the lights went out. He should be hardened to it by now.

  But every loss hurt.

  Especially someone like Susan.

  Someone who had come over to his side. Who he’d welcomed to Heathwaite’s after the conflict with Matthew’s band of pricks.

  Someone who had been stabbed and left for dead.

  Someone who had saved him and his people from Jefe’s clutches.

  He didn’t want to say goodbye to her. He wanted to say “thank you” to her.

  He’d said far too many goodbyes.

  He walked around the car, and he saw something that made him stop in his tracks.

  Susan was sitting upright against a red Ford Fiesta. Her face was pale. Her eyes were bloodshot.

  But she was alive.

  “Susan,”
Jack said, walking towards her. Hazel and Mary were by her side. Mrs Fuzzles sat on her lap, enjoying the attention.

  Susan smiled back at Jack. “Jack.”

  He walked over to her. Crouched in front of her. “How’re you feeling?”

  She puffed out her lips. Her eyes were sleepy. Every blink was forced. Every breath sounded a struggle. But she was alive. She was still hanging in there. Still fighting. “I’ve felt worse,” she said. “Well. Maybe not. But that’s what I’m supposed to say when I’m on death’s door and someone asks me that question, right?”

  Jack put a hand on her shoulder and smiled. “You’re not going anywhere. We’re not going to let that happen.”

  She looked back at him. “Come on, Jack. We both know there’s nothing you can do for me.”

  Jack’s vision blurred when Susan said those words. He felt a lump swelling in his throat. Because as much as they pretended otherwise for comfort, Susan was right. There was only so much they could do for Susan, now the hopes of getting to some mythical safe haven were dead. And what they could do for her was limited to comforting her. Reassuring her. Telling her they were here for her.

  Bedside etiquette. That’s all it was now.

  And it was fucking heartbreaking.

  He tightened his grip on her shoulder. Looked into her eyes and smiled the best he could. “We’re going to do whatever we can for you, Susan. You’re one of us. Don’t you forget that.”

  She closed her eyes. A tear rolled down her cheek. “I remember what you told me. The first time we met. Out in the woods. Do you remember?”

  Jack wiped his cheek. “I’m... I’m not sure—”

  “You told me...”

  Her eyes closed. She smiled. Breathed lightly, spluttered a little. She didn’t finish her sentence.

  Jack sat there, and he cried. He couldn’t control himself anymore. Didn’t even try to. He cried because he was their leader. He was supposed to be the one who fought for them. He was supposed to be the one who protected them.

  And he was one of the few still standing.

  Susan reached out. Placed a cold hand on the back of his. “Don’t cry. Because... because we get a chance to say goodbye. And that’s the difference, isn’t it? At least we get a chance. At least... at least we gave each other a chance.”

  Jack looked at Susan as she lay there, so sick, so unwell. And then he looked at Hazel. At Candice. At Mary. Even at Mrs Fuzzles.