Island Refuge EMP Box Set | Books 1-3

by Hamilton, Grace

  “I’m not giving up. It’s rusted in place or something. We’ll force it. Hang on.” Garret turned and strode out of the building.

  Through the open door, Malin saw the bright beam of Pop’s flashlight, and behind, Dominic standing behind the bicycle. Dominic seemed to be moving around quite a bit, and when he noticed Malin looking at him, he said, “Hey, let me help. I’m stronger than either of you.”

  “We’re not that desperate yet,” Malin said.

  “I’m stronger than either of you,” Dominic said again. “I’m not going to attack. I want across the bridge too. Let me help!”

  Garret came back then, carrying a crowbar in one hand and hammer in the other. He got down on the floor beside the six-inch gap and thrust both tools into the space beneath the floor.

  “Okay, look,” he said. “I’m going to force the lever back from below. You keep pushing up here. We’ll get it moved.”

  “If you say so.” Malin rose and grabbed the lever in both hands, positioning his feet against the wall again.

  After a moment, he heard the clank of the hammer as Garret began to attack the mechanism under the floor. Malin couldn’t see what he was doing, but he felt the lever shudder with each blow. He leaned his weight against the lever and resumed pushing with all of his strength. Suddenly, with a deafening squeal of metal against metal, the lever moved, shifting all the way to the other side. Malin lost his balance and fell forward, tumbling past the lever to land on the floor beyond. At the same time, Garret cursed loudly and then screamed in pain.

  “I’m caught! I’m caught!” he cried.

  Garret was pressed up against the gap, his right arm thrust beneath the floor up to the shoulder. He was thrashing, kicking his feet against the metal floor. When Malin peered through the gap, he could see that Garret’s hand and forearm had somehow gotten pulled under the winch.

  “How did that happen?” he asked.

  “Don’t ask stupid questions,” Garret shouted. “It’s crushing my arm, dude. Hurry up!”

  Malin grabbed the smaller lever and tried to move it, but it resisted his best effort. Garret screamed again.

  “Get everyone,” he shouted. “It’s breaking my arm. Hurry!”

  Malin rushed to the door, but Pop pushed his way through. Elna and Norman approached.

  “Let me help,” Dominic shouted again.

  “Everyone, get in here,” Malin said. He pointed at Dominic. “Even him. Bring him! We need his strength. Just keep a gun trained on him.”

  “Are you sure?” Elna asked.

  Pop set the flashlight on the floor and joined Malin at the lever. Norman came a moment later. The three of them worked together, moving the lever back and forth. With each movement, they heard the winch move, and Garret either cursed or cried out.

  “Faster,” he said. “Faster! It’s killing me.”

  Elna led Dominic into the building a moment later.

  “Let me at it,” he said. “I’ve got this.”

  As Elna lingered by the door, clutching the gun, Malin shifted position to give Dominic space.

  “If you try anything, you’re going right into the bay,” Malin said.

  “Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Dominic replied.

  With Dominic’s help, they were able to shift the lever back and forth much faster. He was definitely the strongest of them. Garret gave one more loud cry of pain, and then he pulled back, dragging his arm out of the gap. Malin saw the mangled flesh of his best man’s right arm only briefly as Garret quickly tucked it against his shirt and stumbled out of the building, cursing all the way.

  “Well, at least the bridge is down,” Malin said, standing in the middle of the road and gazing into the distance.

  Norman and Elna were tending to Garret, attempting to create a brace for his right arm with strips of wood from the pallets they’d built the handcart from. As Norman held the wood in place, Elna wrapped the whole thing in a generous amount of tape.

  “I’m pretty sure we reset the bone,” she said. “But without an x-ray, I can’t be sure. It’s a bad break.”

  “You don’t have to tell me,” Garret said, his head rocking from side to side. He seemed on the verge of fainting.

  Malin glanced to his right, where Dominic stood, a free man, massaging his wrists. Dominic noticed him looking and gave him a weird little smile. Malin looked farther back and saw Selene standing well behind the bicycles, clutching a whimpering Sniffy.

  How do we get the guy back in the ropes? he wondered.

  “Here.” Pop had come up beside him. “My vision’s not so good. See what you can see.”

  He handed Malin the spyglass that they’d found in one of the sheds. Malin took it, pulled it open, and put it to his eye. It took a moment to make out anything. The viewing area was a very small circle that took some effort to focus on. Finally, he made out shifting shapes far in the distance.

  “What do you see?” Elna asked. She sounded nervous. Was she afraid of the mainlanders?

  Well, we did see the whole coastline burning, he thought.

  People. He was seeing people far in the distance. The little spyglass had an impressive range. Faint lights, as from torches or candles, illuminated over a dozen shapes moving down the road. As he studied them, he realized that they were armed, most of them with rifles hanging from straps around their shoulders. They seemed to be in uniform as well, with camo shirts, pants, and hats.

  “What do you see?” Elna asked.

  “Help is on the way,” Malin replied. “They must’ve gotten the other drawbridge down. I wonder how they crossed the gap to reach the service building? Let’s go, guys, and someone keep an eye on this one.” He gestured at Dominic.

  “I’m not going to do anything now,” Dominic said. “Not when we’re so close.”

  “Why don’t you help us?” Norman asked. “Garret’s out of commission. Come push the bikes with me.”

  As Dominic moved to the bicycles, Elna stepped behind him, positioning herself between Dominic and Selene. Malin and Pop helped Garret to his feet. He swooned, groaning in pain, and Malin grabbed his shoulders to steady him.

  “You alright, buddy?” he asked. “Can you make it? You can sit on one of the bikes if you need to.”

  “I’m not an invalid,” Garret replied. “I can still walk. It just hurts like hell.”

  Pop hoisted the CB radio up, flicked on the power, and grabbed the receiver. Putting the receiver to his mouth, he pressed the button and said, “Rod, are you there? This is George Pasqualee.”

  After a moment, there came a little squawk and a modulated voice spoke. “We’re crossing the causeway right now.”

  “We’ve got an injured man with us,” Mr. Pasqualee said. “Broken arm. It’s pretty bad.”

  After a moment of silence, the voice spoke again. “Duly noted. Keep moving toward us.”

  Sounds like a friendly fellow, Malin thought, sarcastically. He glanced over his shoulder at Elna. She was scowling darkly, like she’d just heard the worst sound in the world.

  Malin felt in his pocket for the second gun and resumed walking, heading across the drawbridge. Garret, cursing frequently under his breath, came after him, cradling his broken arm. Norman and Dominic pushed the bicycle handcart. Malin wasn’t entirely comfortable having Dominic unbound, but it didn’t much matter now. They could hand him over the mainlanders soon enough, unless the creep decided to leap off the causeway into the bay—which was just fine with Malin. They forged ahead, moving past the drawbridge to the causeway beyond, heading deeper into the night.

  21

  That voice. The awful voice—clipped and curt and emotionless—made her stomach do a little flip-flop. Elna hadn’t heard from Rod in months, and the sound of his voice coming through the static of the CB radio brought back a lot of bad memories. So many difficult conversations, so much frustration and anxiety.

  Oh God, do we have to do this? she thought, gazing across the causeway.

  Dominic and Norman were riding the bi
kes just in front of her, and she tried to keep an eye on Dominic. But the looming presence of her ex-boyfriend was becoming a bigger and bigger distraction. Selene stuck close to her, holding and petting Sniffy.

  “Keep an eye on him,” Selene said, at one point, leaning in close to Elna. “Don’t trust him, not even for a second, no matter how helpful he seems to be. He can change completely without a moment’s notice.”

  “I’ve got him covered,” Elna replied, waving the gun at his back. “Just stay well clear of him.”

  “Believe me, I will.” As if agreeing, Sniffy snorted.

  Garret lasted about a quarter of a mile. First, he began to lag, forcing the rest of the group to slow down. Then he finally came to a stop, groaning, and dropped to his knees. Elna started to rush to his aid, but Selene put a restraining hand against her arm.

  “I think he’s done, guys,” Malin said, trying to help Garret to his feet.

  “I’m not done,” Garret replied, his voice creaking. “I just need to sit down for a minute.”

  Norman climbed down off his bicycle seat and beckoned Garret. “Let him sit on the bike. It’s the best we can do for now.”

  It took Malin and Norman working together to get Garret up onto the bicycle seat. This put Dominic close to their back, so Elna kept an eye on him. Selene’s creepy ex seemed to be struggling not to smile, but he kept his hands clamped to the handlebars.

  “I just hope they’ve got drugs over there,” Garret muttered, nodding in the direction of the mainland. “I could use something really strong.”

  “Hang in there,” Norman said, gently patting him on the back.

  They resumed their journey, the roaring waters of the bay crashing over the causeway supports on either side. Elna found it a bit disconcerting, the narrow causeway like an asphalt thread hanging over a watery void. It just went on and on, like something from a bad dream. She was tired, her feet hurt, and a feeling of unease was growing inside of her.

  Finally, she approached the back of the handcart and pulled a pair of binoculars out of the big box. She raised them to her eyes, gazing into the distance. She couldn’t quite make out people, but she saw faint, flickering lights.

  Not too late to turn back, she told herself.

  Then again, they’d already walked more than eight miles. Nobody was going to turn back at this point.

  Garret gave a loud groan. Elna lowered the binoculars in time to see him tip to the side and fall from his seat. Dominic reached over and caught him by the arm, holding him up long enough for Norman to come over and get him back up onto the seat.

  “Hold on tight, my friend,” Norman said, curling Garret’s fingers around the handlebars. “Just a little bit farther.”

  Dominic turned in his seat and gave Elna a smug look. You doubted me, but I helped, that look said. Elna tried not to glare at him, but she couldn’t quite restrain herself. Dominic seemed pretty tired himself. Even with the smug look on his face, he was swaying. Was it genuine?

  If he falls out of the seat, he’s going right back into the ropes, she told herself.

  After Garret almost collapsed a second time, Malin moved back to walk with him, propping him up with his free hand. They were moving at a snail’s pace now, chasing Pop’s flashlight beam as the black ocean roared on either side.

  A group of armed men emerged in front of them like ghosts in the night. They stood in two large bands on either side of the road, three or four dozen dressed all in camouflage. And every single one of them was armed, carrying a rifle. Even with her limited knowledge of firearms, Elna recognized most of the weapons as either AR-15s or wood-stock AK-47s. A few of the men carried lanterns of one kind or another—the source of the flickering lights.

  She couldn’t help thinking that they looked like a third-world paramilitary force. As they approached, Selene moved closer to Elna until they were brushing against each other, as if she desperately needed the reassurance of friendly human contact.

  “Don’t worry,” Elna said. “We’ll be okay.”

  “Gosh, I hope so,” Selene replied, in a tiny voice. “There are so many of them.”

  When Pop, in the lead, came within a dozen or so yards of the end of the men, a group of them broke away from the group on the right and marched toward Pop and the others with military precision. It almost seemed like a deliberate display, though Elna couldn’t imagine the purpose of it.

  And then she saw him. He was walking one step ahead of the men, cradling an AR-15 in his arms. Rod Smith, tall and well-built, with a chiseled face and close-cropped blond hair. He looked as severe as ever, his fierce eyes caught in Pop’s flashlight beam. He’d been a strong guy in college, but he was more massive now, all sinew and muscle. His arms strained against the long sleeves of his camo shirt. The metal buttons down the front of the shirt glinted in the light.

  As he approached, Elna noted the four-pointed gold star attached to the front of his hat above the brim. It had clearly been handmade, as it was somewhat rough around the edges. Notably, he was the only one with a star on his cap among the men.

  Well, here goes the happy reunion that I never hoped to have, she thought, feeling queasy. She tossed the binoculars back into the box on the handcart, grabbed her aching stomach with her free hand, and marched on.

  22

  “You’re all safe now,” Rod said, speaking in a loud, crisp voice that rose above the crashing of nearby waves against the rocky causeway. “You no longer have anything to fear.”

  Let’s get this over with, Elna thought.

  She gave Selene a reassuring pat as she stepped away from her, moving past the bikes. Garret and Dominic seemed half asleep, Norman struggling to keep the bicycles moving. Elna slid the revolver into her pants pocket. As she moved past the others, Rod locked eyes with her and gave her a brief smile. His smiles were strange—they didn’t touch his eyes—but in this case, it lasted all of two seconds before dissolving like a bit of frost on a summer afternoon.

  “Elna Pasqualee,” he said. Rod had a sharp voice, even when saying innocuous things. “It has been quite a little while, hasn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” she said. She didn’t mean to sound so darn uncomfortable, but she couldn’t help it. “Thanks for responding to my dad.”

  She sensed movement to her right, and when she turned she realized Malin was there. He gave her a questioning look, eyebrows raised as if to say, “Is this weirdo bothering you?” She nodded in return, trying to seem like she meant it.

  Rod was handsome. She couldn’t deny that. And he was in great shape. In fact, he looked better than ever. She almost commented on this but bit her tongue at the last second. It little mattered. After his curt greeting, Rod walked right past her, his rifle clanking against his hip, and approached Elna’s father.

  “So you got the other drawbridges down?” he said.

  “Yes, but it wasn’t easy,” Pop said.

  “You have my payment, I assume.”

  Payment? Elna wondered. Of course, Rod hadn’t come out of sheer human kindness.

  Pop walked back to the handcart and grabbed the small, sealed box that was hidden behind the tools. He picked it up, wrapped his arms around it, and brought it back. When he carried it, Elna heard the distinct sound of glass clanking inside.

  Pop, what have you done?

  When he handed it to Rod, Rod broke the duct tape holding the lid and opened it. He tipped the box, reached inside, and pulled out a bottle of wine.

  Gold Label, Elna realized. Our most expensive wine. That one bottle is worth about $60. How many did Pop give him?

  She saw multiple bottles in the box.

  “Looks good,” Rod said. “This’ll do, Pasqualee.”

  He turned and gave the box to one of the men standing behind him, an enormous, girthy fellow with greasy hair.

  “Take this back to the base camp,” Rod said. “Don’t let anyone mess with it until I arrive or heads will roll. Got it?”

  The man actually bowed before turning and walkin
g away.

  Just then, Elna heard a commotion. First, it sounded like someone kicked one of the bicycles. Then, Selene screamed and Sniffy barked. Elna turned in time to see Dominic leap over the back of his bike, knocking tools off the cart in the process. At first, he went for Selene, but when the dog began to bark, he headed toward the side of the causeway. Garret was standing closest, and he moved in the way. Even in pain, his arm splinted and taped, he managed to give Dominic a menacing look.

  “Move out of my way,” Dominic cried.

  He shoved Garret, and that was all it took. With a shuddery moan, Garret dropped onto his butt on the street. Dominic reached the guardrail at the edge of the causeway, glanced over briefly into the dark water, then seemed to change his mind. He turned west and started running back the way they’d come.

  “Get that man and bring him to me,” Rod said. “Alive, if possible.”

  Two of his men rushed forward, bringing up their rifles as if preparing to shoot the retreating figure. Elna stepped aside to let them pass. She wasn’t sure if they would have barreled right through her otherwise. The men moved fast—they had the energy that a weary Dominic lacked—racing past the bikes, past a whimpering Selene and a furious Sniffy, past a groaning Garret and a gawking Norman.

  “Stop running or we will shoot,” one of the men shouted, his voice carrying far and wide.

  Dominic was quickly becoming a mere shape in the dark as he ran west along the causeway, as if headed back to the island, but the men were sprinting now.

  “Stop running, sir,” one of the men shouted again.

  On the verge of disappearing into the night, they reached the fleeing figure. Elna heard the collision—Dominic’s sudden cry, the clank of rifles, the expulsive breath. A moment later, the men returned, dragging a reluctant Dominic between them, each holding an arm as the prisoner kicked and dragged his feet.

  “Let me go,” he said. “I don’t want to be rescued. I just came along to help the others. Let me go back to the island.”