The EMP Survivor Series (Book 2): Uncertain World

by Chris Pike

  “I think we better find cover,” Chandler said.

  “We’re only about ten miles from my house,” Holly said, raising her voice over the storm rolling in. “Don’t you think we can make it?” She was so cold she was having trouble enunciating words clearly. A shiver captured her and she pulled closer to Dillon, trying to warm up.

  “We need to find shelter or we’re all going to get hypothermic,” Dillon said. “Horses need rest too.”

  He scanned the horizon, past the trees, past the empty roads and dark woods. Blinking through the rain, he detected a flicker of light in the distance.

  “There’s a house up ahead!” he called. “Let’s stop there for a little while until the storm lets up.”

  The three travelers encouraged their horses to pick up the pace.

  It was raining heavily now, soaking everyone to the bone. Holly shivered from the cold rain, thinking she’d never be warm again.

  Coming around a relaxed bend in the road, the travelers stopped.

  A bolt of lightning illuminated the ranch house set off from the road. The two-story house was dark and appeared vacant, yet Dillon swore he had seen a light moments earlier. Stopping and asking for shelter at this dark hour could lead to trouble.

  “Holly,” Dillon said, “by any chance do you know who lives there?”

  “I think so.”

  “Finally some luck,” Dillon mumbled. “Friend or foe?”

  “Not sure,” Holly said, aware of the risk they were taking. “It depends on if the guy is still alive or not.”

  Chapter 16

  “That’s close enough,” a male voice called out from the dark house.

  Dillon and Chandler pulled in the reins of their horses. The two men exchanged wary glances, their shoulders hunched from the rain pelting them. Holly held her arms tight around Dillon, peeking out from behind him. Another crack of lightning illuminated the house in blasts of flashing yellow lights like a strobe at a disco.

  “I’ve got a twelve gauge shotgun trained square on your chest, so if you try anything funny, I’ll blow a hole big as Montana in all of you, including the woman. I don’t discriminate.”

  “That’s nice to know,” Holly whispered.

  “Quiet, let me do the talking.” Turning his attention back to the house, he yelled, “We only need to stay a few hours until the storm lets up, that’s all!” He scanned the windows and doors of the house trying to find where the man was hiding. It was as dark as the night. “Maybe we could take shelter in your barn?”

  “You’d better leave,” the man ordered. “I don’t like strangers coming up to my house at night.”

  “We don’t mean any harm. We only want to get out of this lightning storm and get our horses—”

  A flash of lightning followed by an ear-splitting crack of thunder caused Dillon to automatically flinch and hunch over. Cowboy tossed his head and stamped his hooves at the thunderous noise. There was a brief interlude followed by intense lightning. Dillon struggled to calm Cowboy as the storm intensified.

  Holly raised an arm and waved. “I’m Holly Hudson and I own a ranch about ten miles south of here.”

  “What’d you say your name was?” the man yelled.

  “Holly Hudson. Do you remember me?”

  “Are you Nick’s daughter?” A door squeaked open and the man peered around from the door. A beam of light cast out into the dark night.

  “Yes! I’m Nick and Brenda’s daughter.”

  “Well, I’ll be!” The man stepped out of the door and onto the slatted board of the front porch. He had on a dark slicker with the hood pulled up over his head. He held the shotgun in one hand and a lantern in the other. “We used to play bridge together. Your daddy sure was competitive. Come on in out of the rain,” he said. He fiddled with the lantern, casting light on the riders and their horses. “Put the horses in the barn. You’ll find feed in there too.”

  “I’ll do it,” Chandler said before Dillon could offer. “You and Holly go on in and dry off.”

  “Thanks,” Dillon said.

  “You’ll catch your death of cold if you don’t get out of that rain. It’ll suck the life right out of you.”

  Chandler took the horses to the barn, while Dillon and Holly, hurried up the stairs of the porch. They stepped in and took in the surroundings. The house was surprisingly warm, and the yellow glow of lanterns illuminated the living area. The aroma of meat stew filled the air. A cute dog came up to Holly, running its nose along her boots and her leg, taking in the smell of this new person.

  “That’s Nipper,” the man said, putting on another log. He poked the embers in the fireplace then set the screen back into place. “He’s my daughter’s dog. Take your boots off and put them here by the fireplace.”

  Holly and Dillon took off their wet socks and boots. They tiptoed across the rugs covering the wood floors, and set their boots next to the fireplace.

  “Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Jack Hardy,” he said glancing from Dillon to Holly. He briskly rubbed his hands together then offered a handshake.

  “Dillon Stockdale.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Jack said. “Who’s your other friend?”

  “Chris Chandler.”

  “God, it’s so good to see a familiar face,” Jack said, “even if I haven’t seen you since you were a teenager. Let me see you, Holly.” An expression of fatherly love came over Jack. He stood in front of Holly and put his hands on her shoulders. “You sure do resemble your mother.”

  “Thank you,” Holly said.

  “Amanda!” Jack screamed up the stairs. “Come on down. It’s okay, these folks are neighbors!”

  A young woman, hardly past being what some would call a girl, padded down the stairs. Her long hair flowed over her shoulders, and her brown eyes bounced from Holly to Dillon. The young woman had on a pair of jeans and an oversized checkered woolen shirt. She ran over to Jack.

  “This is my granddaughter. Amanda, say hello to these nice folks,” Jack said. He coughed a phlegm-filled cough, deep and raspy. Reaching around to his back pocket, he retrieved a handkerchief and coughed into it.

  Holly and Dillon exchanged worried looks.

  “Grandpa,” Amanda said, concern etching her face. “Are you okay? Can I get you anything? A glass of water?”

  “No, no. I’ll be okay in a minute.” He swallowed audibly. “Let me sit down until this subsides.” Jack stepped over to a rocking chair near the fireplace and lowered himself into the chair. Coughing again, he covered his mouth with the handkerchief. “Sorry y’all had to see that. I’m not a well man.”

  Nipper jumped up into Jack’s lap and licked his face, trying to comfort him. For a while it helped until Jack had another coughing fit.

  “It’s bad,” Jack said. “You might as well know. Stage four lung cancer.”

  “Grandpa, don’t,” Amanda said. She put a hand to her mouth, trying to conceal the emotions boiling up inside her.

  Dillon expected Amanda to burst out crying at any moment.

  “Jack,” Holly said, “do you have anything for your cough?”

  He shook his head. “My prescription was running out, and those damned insurance companies wouldn’t refill my medicine until the thirtieth day. Then the damn electricity went off and nothing works now, not even the damn truck.”

  “Don’t cuss, Grandpa,” Amanda scolded.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “Got any whiskey and honey?” Holly asked.

  “Yes. Why?”

  “I’m going to make you something that will help your cough,” Holly said. “Amanda, come with me to the kitchen.”

  “The whiskey is in the cabinet above the refrigerator,” Jack said. “And the lantern is on the counter to the left right as you walk in.”

  Holly followed Amanda to the kitchen. Feeling around the place, Amanda located their kerosene lantern and switched it on. Holly retrieved the whiskey from the cupboard, and taking a quick glance at the counters, she spotted the ho
ney. “You have a lemon by any chance?”

  “We do. They’re in the barn. My grandpa said they’d keep longer in the cool air. I’ll get you one.”

  “Okay, be careful. Take the lantern.”

  Amanda went out the back door and bolted to the barn. She covered her head with a shawl, trying not to get wet, while dangling the lantern to light her way. The storm’s intensity had increased and the rain was now blowing sideways. A clap of thunder rolled over the countryside, startling Amanda. She burst through the side door of the barn, but the previous thunder wasn’t nearly as jolting as seeing a man in the barn.

  “Who...who are you?” she stuttered. “What are you doing here?” For a moment Amanda thought about getting a pitchfork to protect herself with, but it was obvious she was no match for the man. He was tall and burly, with a couple of weeks’ worth of stubble. He wore a pair of dark washed blue-jeans and a black slicker.

  “Name’s Chris Chandler. Everyone calls me Chandler.” He set down the bucket of feed. “I’m here with Holly and Dillon. They asked me to put the horses up and feed them.”

  “Oh.”

  “Didn’t anyone tell you I was in the barn?” Chandler asked.

  “No.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Amanda Hardy.”

  “How old are you?” Chandler asked.

  “None of your business,” Amanda said.

  Chandler took a curious step forward. His gaze tracked from her boots back up to her dark eyes. The wisp of a girl with long wavy hair, who probably wasn’t more than five foot three, held steady and eyed him as if she was challenging him.

  “You can’t be more than sixteen.”

  “I am not!” Amanda exclaimed indignantly. “I turned twenty-one last month.” She put an annoyed hand on her hip.

  A slight grin spread across Chandler’s face which didn’t go unnoticed.

  “So how old are you?” Amanda asked. “Thirty-five?”

  “No, I’m twenty-eight, but sometimes I feel twice as old.” There was sorrow in his voice and his chiseled features sagged. “War does that to a guy.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it. You don’t really look that old.”

  For a few long, uncomfortable moments neither one said anything. Finally, Chandler asked, “Do you need something?”

  “A lemon from the bucket behind you,” Amanda replied.

  Chandler picked up a lemon, tossed it in the air a couple of times like a tennis ball, then pitched it to her.

  Amanda deftly caught it with one hand.

  “I’m impressed,” Chandler said.

  Making direct eye contact with him, Amanda said, “I am too.”

  Chapter 17

  Amanda leaned against the kitchen counter while Holly whipped up an elixir of lemon juice, honey, and whiskey in a stainless steel pan.

  “Won’t that burn on the wood stove?” Amanda asked. She was curious regarding how Holly planned to heat it up.

  “No,” Holly said. “It won’t come in contact with the flames, so you can use anything you normally use on a gas or electric stove. Otherwise, it’s best to use cast iron.”

  “Is my grandpa supposed to drink all that?” Amanda asked.

  “No,” Holly said. “I’m making enough in case anybody wants a nightcap. I think we could all use something to keep us warm tonight and to take off the edge.”

  Taking it to the wood stove in the middle of the front room, Holly placed it on the heated surface and put a lid on the pan so it would heat quicker. After a few minutes it was steaming. She splashed a couple of ounces into a sturdy lowball glass.

  “Here, drink this,” she said, handing the drink to Jack Hardy. “It should help your cough. Be careful, it’s hot.”

  The old man hands shook as he reached out to take the cup. “Thank you.”

  “Sip it a little at a time,” Holly instructed. “It will soothe your throat.”

  Jack took a sip. “It’s good,” he said, stifling a cough. “I think I’ll have another dose.”

  * * *

  The men sat around the antique dining room table that had been in the family for a hundred years. The large mahogany table sat six people. Holly offered everyone a hot toddy, regardless of whether they had a cough or not. When Chandler came in, he said he could use one. Even though Holly wasn’t sure if Amanda was old enough to drink, she offered a drink to her.

  Amanda tasted it. “I’ve had these before. My mom used to give this to me when I was a little kid and got sick. It was always real treat and the best part of being sick,” Amanda said. “And it put me right to sleep.”

  “Smart parents,” Holly laughed.

  “Amanda,” Jack said, “come sit at the table. While you were in the barn, Dillon has been telling me what’s going on. You need to hear this.”

  Dillon explained the EMP and the effects of it taking down the entire electrical grid, saying that anything with a computer board was useless. Different theories were discussed regarding who could be responsible, with the best guess being China or Iran.

  Amanda’s eyes got round as saucers as she sat dumbfounded. “You’re trying to tell me that my cell phone and the internet won’t be working for years?”

  “Yes,” Dillon answered.

  “I don’t believe it,” Amanda shot back. “It’s not possible.”

  “It is possible because it happened.”

  “How am I supposed to contact my teachers at college to tell them I can’t be in class?”

  “Education is not on the short list of things that matter right now,” Dillon said. “What matters is that we live through this. If society recovers, you can go back to school.”

  “I’m confused about something,” Jack said. “Why don’t you think they nuked us instead?”

  “Probably not enough nuclear warheads to do enough damage to take out the entire United States,” Dillon said. “This way, nature will do all the dirty work because within a year most people, especially those in the cities, will either starve to death, kill each other off, or die of sickness.”

  “Like me,” Jack said solemnly. He lowered his head and stared at his drink. He traced the top edge of the glass with his fingers. Feeling a cough coming on, he pulled out a hankie from his back pocket and put it to his mouth.

  The atmosphere immediately became quiet and somber. Holly’s gaze swiveled from Dillon then to Chandler, who both had their heads down. They were breathing quietly, being as still as possible as if they didn’t want to make any noise or draw attention to themselves.

  The fireplace crackled and logs shifted. Outside, the trees bent and swayed when a gust of wind and rain lashed the land. Lightning crackled and a shock of light flashed in the sky, casting eerie shadows.

  Dillon peered out the window and thought he saw movement where none should be, then chalked it up to the wind lashing the trees.

  “Grandpa,” Amanda said, her voice cracking, “don’t talk like that. You’re all I have.” She choked back tears and swallowed audibly.

  “It’s the truth,” Jack snapped. “I wouldn’t have had long to live anyway. The EMP is simply speeding things up. I’ve only been hanging on for your sake, Amanda. Look at me.”

  Amanda met his eyes, and while she had a difficult time holding back her emotions, she was determined not to cry in front of strangers.

  “You’re not a child anymore,” Jack said. “You’re all grown up now and have become a young woman your mom and dad would have been proud of.”

  “What, Grandpa? What are you saying?” Amanda blinked away the tears clouding her vision.

  “Sweetie, I need you to be strong now and be the grown-up I know you can be. These past few years after your mama and daddy passed away, I’ve tried to teach you to be self-reliant. I’ve taught you how to hunt and fish, how to can vegetables, how to manage your money…” Another coughing fit rendered him unable to speak. He took another sip of the whiskey and lemon juice elixir.

  “No, Grandpa, nooo!” Amanda
wailed. Abruptly, she pushed back in her chair and ran to her bedroom, away from the harsh truth, slamming a door behind her. An anguished, muffled cry intensified the already somber tone of the room.

  “I can go to her,” Holly said.

  “Let her be,” Jack said. “I’ll go talk to her in a bit.”

  Rain lashed against the windows and the wind whistled down through the cracks of the old house. A tree branch broke away and clattered on the roof.

  Dillon spied the high ceilings and flimsy windows of the old house, briefly thinking this was no place to take a stand. As soon as the storm blew through, they’d be on their way.

  Finally, Holly said, “Jack, can I do anything for you?”

  “As a matter of fact there is,” Jack said. He sat up straight, squared his shoulders, and looked Holly directly in the eye. “Take my granddaughter with you, where she can be safe. I have a younger sister in Central Texas where Amanda can go. Someone would need to take her there.”

  Holly glanced at Dillon. He shook his head, indicating he wasn’t ready to be responsible for a complete stranger. Holly squinted and returned an equally hard glare. She gave her own shake of her head indicating she didn’t agree with him.

  Holly reached over to Jack and put a hand on his arm. “Jack, we’d be glad to—”

  “Holly!” Dillon interrupted. “We don’t have enough food to take in another person.”

  “What are we supposed to do?” Holly shot back. “Just leave her here to who knows what? A girl alone, trying to take care of her sick grandfather?”

  “Jack said he had taught her well on how to be self-sufficient,” Dillon countered.

  “She wouldn’t last a week out here all by herself and you know that,” Holly argued. “Besides, when we decided whether or not Chandler could come with us, you said it was my decision because it’s my place. Not yours,” she reminded him.

  Dillon’s shoulders dropped. He had played right into that. He had no retort. That bull-headed streak she had in the courtroom where she diminished lesser attorneys to shivering wads of Jell-O would serve her well in this new and dangerous world.