Island Refuge EMP Box Set | Books 1-3

by Hamilton, Grace

  “You’re not going to ruin this for me,” Garret snarled, reaching for Selene, who was trying to maintain her balance after shoving Dominic.

  Elna came in low, ducking Garret’s grasping left hand, and struck him in the belly with an open palm. At the same time, she reached up and grabbed the splinted right arm, giving just enough pressure to make it hurt. Garret screamed—a shrill cry that she would never have expected from him.

  “People are gathering,” Norman said. “Lots of people.”

  Garret crumpled to the ground, the shriek becoming a long moan. He landed on his side, grabbed at the broken arm, and began rocking back and forth. Elna turned. Indeed, as Norman had said, a crowd was beginning to form a short distance away as people wandered out of tents to see what the noise was all about.

  “Run,” Elna said, looking at Selene, Pop, and Norman each in turn. “Run as fast as you can to the bridge. Don’t stop. Don’t look back.”

  Norman went first, spinning on his heel and dashing between two tents, headed southwest. Selene stooped down and picked up Sniffy, then followed him.

  “Pop, get going,” Elna said, waving her hands at her father.

  He turned and followed Selene.

  Dominic was struggling to get to his hands and knees, making a low, throaty sound. Elna leapt over him, landed in the dirt on the other side, and took off running. Two or three dozen people had gathered nearby, a few soldiers among them. For the moment, they seemed confused, but just before Elna disappeared between the tents, one of the soldiers reached for the rifle strapped over his shoulder.

  “Stop right there,” he said. “Stop!”

  Elna was glad to see that Norman, Pop, and Selene were sprinting, running full out toward the edge of the camp. Past a few more tents, open ground awaited them, and the road beyond. She quickly caught up to Selene, passed her, then reached Norman.

  “Faster, guys, faster,” she shouted. “All the way to the bridge!”

  She heard a growing commotion in the camp behind her. Soldiers were calling to each other. Heavy footfalls moved through the camp, accompanied by the clank of rifles. She didn’t stop to look. She didn’t even risk a glance over her shoulder. Pushing through any trace of exhaustion, she ran as fast as she’d ever run in her life, barely keeping her feet as she dodged tents, boxes, firepits, and even a few wide-eyed civilians.

  The situation had clearly caught the guards by surprise. They seemed confused, shouting questions back and forth, moving in various directions. It probably helped that they’d made their escape so late in the evening. The last light was gone by now, leaving only the flickering of campfires. Norman was the first to reach the edge of the camp, and he picked up even more speed as he crossed the field. He had long legs, and he took great strides. Still, he was a man in at least his mid-forties, not in the greatest shape. Elna was impressed.

  When she reached the road, Elna slowed down, trying to catch her breath, and dared a glance behind her. Selene had fallen behind, struggling to run in her swishy skirt and with a dog in her arms. Behind her, soldiers were moving in the gaps between tents, clearly still trying to figure out what was going on. Elna beckoned Selene, waited for her to reach the road, then ran for the causeway.

  The camp had just disappeared behind the rise when she spotted something strange in the distance. An angular shape was parked at the spot where the road met the causeway. It took a moment to make out what it was.

  The bicycles, she realized.

  Yes, and Malin was standing beside them, watching as Norman barreled toward him. The cart was piled high with boxes. Elna only had a second or two to be amazed before she heard booted feet on the pavement behind her. Soldiers had reached the road.

  Is this where we all get shot in the back? she wondered.

  She’d felt that crawling, tingling sensation before, the knowledge of guns at her back, the fear that a bullet could take her life at any moment. There was nothing she could do about it. She kept running until she reached the bikes. Only then did she stumble to a stop, gasping for breath, air burning in her lungs.

  “Here they come, folks,” Malin said. “They seem a little confused, but we might not want to wait around.”

  Selene reached them last, and when Elna turned to her, she saw ranks of soldiers forming at the top of the ridge. Someone was moving in their midst, and every soldier watched him carefully. She heard a voice raised above the others.

  I’d know that voice in my dreams, she thought, and shuddered.

  “We’ve got a couple of seconds to get moving before they come charging down the hill,” Elna said.

  “We’ll never outrun them,” Selene said, breathless. “I’m holding everyone back.”

  “We don’t have to.” She gestured at the bicycle cart. “Malin and I will pedal the bikes. Pop, Norman, Selene, hop up on the cart and ride.”

  “Will it hold our combined weight and all those supplies?” Norman asked.

  “If it held all those crates of wine, I think it’ll hold you,” Elna said. “Either way, we’ll find out. Hop on!”

  They managed to shift the piles of supplies enough to create space along the back edge of the cart where Pop, Norman, and Selene positioned themselves in a row. Selene sat cross-legged, with Sniffy in her lap, while Pop and Norman let their feet dangle.

  “I guess we need to coordinate our efforts here,” Elna said to Malin as she mounted the left bike.

  He was already on the other bike, bent over the handlebars. “I’ll follow your lead. Where’s Garret?”

  “You can thank him for that,” she said, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. “In the end, he decided to be the worst version of himself.”

  “That scumbag,” Malin muttered.

  Elna started pedaling. The weight the bikes were carrying made it hard to get the thing moving, and she finally had to stand up on the pedals and put her full weight into it. Malin copied her, pedaling at the same rate, and together they finally got the unwieldy contraption moving.

  “They’re coming,” Selene said.

  Elna didn’t bother to look back. She knew what they were up against. Gradually, they picked up speed as they sailed over the causeway, but the framework of the handmade monstrosity groaned under the weight.

  We’re going to test the limits of Garret’s engineering, she thought.

  They continued to pick up speed until they were flying across the dark causeway. Elna was all too aware of the vast, black ocean, the causeway dropping away into a roaring, inky void on either side. On top of that, she barely felt like she had control over the bike. The faster they went, the closer to sudden chaos they seemed, as if the whole thing might fly apart and send the passengers tumbling in all directions.

  “Are you okay, Malin?” she managed to ask. “How’s it going over there?”

  “A little bit like trying to steer a runaway train,” he replied.

  It felt now like they were utterly alone in the universe, a strange cobbled-together contraption flying through nothingness. She no longer heard their pursuers, only the wind in her ears, the crash of waves, and her own ragged breathing.

  She lost track of time, but eventually the service room of the first drawbridge appeared in the distance, swimming out of the darkness like a stone sentinel. Elna felt the change when they rode over the drawbridge—a slight instability rising up through the pavement.

  “We have…to get…that bridge up,” she said, between breaths. “Stop the bike!”

  She applied the brakes and heard an ear-straining squeal as the brake pads ground against the rims, fighting the terrible momentum. After a moment, she could smell them, as if the rubberized pads were melting in the heat, but slowly the bicycles came to a stop. The brakes gave a last howl as they stopped beside the service building on the far side of the drawbridge.

  In the sudden quiet, she heard a distinctive sound. A high-pitched growl, it echoed out over the bay. Motorcycles. Elna glanced at Malin and saw the recognition in his eyes. Yes, he heard it too. S
he turned back in the direction of the mainland and saw headlights on the causeway. More than that, she saw many flashlights shining back and forth.

  They were close. Too close. Though distances were hard to judge in the dark, the motorcycles were moving fast, two of them moving down the causeway at breakneck speed. The soldiers on foot might take longer, but the motorcycles were closing in.

  “We’ll never get the bridge up in time,” she said. “Not before those bikes get here.”

  Malin moved up beside her. After a second, he raised clenched fists. “Then we fight ’em. Two bikes. We can handle them, right?” He looked at her. “Right?”

  She couldn’t bring herself to lie to him, but she strode forward anyway, even as Norman and Pop hopped down from the cart to join her.

  30

  “Pop, you and Norman get on the bikes and get out of here,” Elna said, hoping her tone would brook no resistance.

  When he didn’t move right away, she went to him, grabbed his arm, and pulled him toward the leftward bike.

  “Come on, Pop. You have to ride away from here.”

  “What about you?” he replied.

  She went to the old battered toolbox on the handcart and fished around inside. When she felt the cold tempered steel of the crowbar, she pulled it out and held it up. “Malin and I are going to stop the guys on the motorcycles.”

  “That’s right,” Malin said. He dug around in the box and produced a large, rusty wrench. “The soldiers have fallen behind, but we can’t outrun the motorcycles. They have to be dealt with now.”

  “We should stay and help you fight,” Norman said. “Strength in numbers.”

  “No,” Elna shouted. “We need two people to ride the bikes, especially with all the weight, and Selene is carrying her dog. That leaves you and Pop.” When Elna’s father came toward her, she gently pushed him away. “Get the supplies to the island. It’s imperative. We need them, and you can’t let them drag Selene back to that camp where Dominic is a soldier.” She met her father’s gaze in the dark, let him see the intensity of her gaze, and said, “Pop, you know it’s the right thing to do. Quit wasting time. Go!”

  He bowed his head and sighed. “I love you, Principessa.”

  “I love you too. Get out of here!”

  “I’m…I’m very proud of you,” he said. “You’ve proved yourself so many times since the EMP hit.”

  She was touched and frustrated in equal measure. Had he ever said he was proud of her before? But he was wasting time, and she waved him away. As she turned toward the approaching motorcycles, she was relieved to hear the creak of the bikes as Pop and Norman mounted them. Sniffy gave a soft little bark as Selene climbed up onto the cart, and then they were all riding away.

  “What’s the plan?” Malin asked, stepping up beside Elna, the wrench held out in front of him like a sword.

  “We don’t let the motorcycles get past us,” she replied. “That’s the plan.”

  There wasn’t time to come up with anything more specific. The two motorcycles were blasting toward them, the sharp high-pitched whine of their small engines cutting through the ocean’s roar. They were seconds from passing Elna and Malin—or barreling right over them—one bike in each lane.

  Elna moved to the middle of the road, standing on the yellow divider and slightly to one side, clutching the crowbar in both hands and raising it behind her head like a baseball bat. Malin saw this and mirrored her with the wrench, standing back to back with her. The headlights were small but blinding, so the riders were little more than vague shapes.

  As Elna positioned herself to meet the bike nearest to her, she realized the headlight was shifting. The rider had turned toward her, intending to hit her head-on. She also realized the motorcycle was picking up speed, giving her scarcely a second to react. She leapt forward, trying to avoid the bike. At the same time, she swung around backward, thrusting the crowbar out was she went.

  The crowbar hit the top edge of the headlight, shattering it. The force of the impact stabbed up both arms. Then the crowbar deflected up into the rider. This time, the impact knocked her off her feet. Elna spun, completely disoriented in the dark. After an interminable second, she felt warm pavement slam into her side, sharp pain in her shoulder, as she tumbled.

  When she came to a stop, she heard cries of pain. Both headlights were gone. The darkness seemed to have consumed everything. She had grit in her mouth from the road, and she spat it out. When she sat up, wincing at what felt like a dozen fresh bruises all along her right side, she saw bodies scattered across the road.

  “Elna, are you okay?” It was Malin, though she couldn’t tell which of the bodies was his.

  She looked for the motorcycles, but it took her a moment to find them. They had fallen over and slid quite a few yards beyond the drawbridge.

  “Are you okay?” Malin asked again.

  Suddenly, he was at her side, brushing her hair off her face to look in her eyes. Only then did she realize she had failed to answer him.

  “I think so,” she replied. “Bruised, that’s all.”

  He helped her to her feet, but the world spun madly around her. Grabbing her head in her hands, she leaned against him.

  “I threw the wrench at him,” Malin said, gesturing at one of the bodies on the ground nearby. “I think I hit him right between the eyes. He’s out cold. My arm is killing me now.” He shook out his bandaged right arm.

  The rider she’d hit was moaning, and she stumbled over to him. He lay curled up on his side, clutching the lower half of his face with his hands. When Elna leaned in close, she saw a spreading darkness on the pavement beneath him.

  Hit him in the jaw, she thought. Maybe the mouth. Lots of blood.

  “Did we actually take these guys out?” she said.

  “Yep,” Malin replied, “but there’s a whole lot more of them coming.”

  Elna heard something ping loudly and ricochet off into the night. In her addled state, she couldn’t make sense of it. It was followed a fraction of a second later by the crack of a rifle in the distance.

  “They’re shooting at us,” she said. “Would Rod let them do that? I know he’s a jerk, but…”

  “The bikes,” Mike said, grabbing her hand and pulling her. “Let’s take the bikes. Come on.”

  As he pulled her toward the tumbled motorcycles, she heard the squawk of a bullhorn in the distant. It was followed a moment later by a familiar voice, cold and unfriendly, made almost robotic by the veneer of static.

  “Elna Pasqualee, where do you think you’re going?” Rod said, his voice echoing far and wide. “Your behavior is very disappointing, Elna. More disappointing than usual. You can’t hide from me on your little island.”

  She heard other rifle reports in the darkness. Was Rod trying to scare her, or was he actually trying to kill her? Until very recently, she would have found the latter unthinkable. Now, she wasn’t so sure what he was capable of.

  She grabbed the nearest motorcycle. Unfortunately, it was the one with a broken headlight, but it still worked. The engine growled beneath her as she climbed on the seat, her head pounding so hard that the whole world seemed to contract around her with every heartbeat.

  “To the second drawbridge,” Malin said. “Drive fast. We’ll need enough time to get the bridge up.”

  And with that, he sped off into the night. Elna twisted the throttle and felt the bike lurch forward, even as Rod resumed shouting at her from the distant lantern lights.

  31

  Elna’s motorcycle sputtered suddenly and gave out before she’d made it twenty yards. She fumbled with the controls in the dark, turning the throttle and attempting to kickstart it, to no avail. She tried again—nothing. Malin’s light was quickly vanishing in the distance.

  “Damn,” she muttered. “Guess I hit the bike a little too hard with that crowbar.”

  Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the great wall of soldiers marching down the causeway, moving in formation like a medieval army taking the
battlefield. They were close enough now that she could make out their faces in the lantern light, and she was pretty sure the tall figure in the middle of the front row was Rod. And was that Dominic beside him?

  That figures, she thought. Rod and Dominic deserve each other.

  She tried to kickstart the bike one more time, but it did no good. It was dead. She dropped it to the street and went back for the crowbar. She was vastly outnumbered, but she wouldn’t go back without a fight. Rod was going to remember this night!

  As she bent to retrieve the crowbar, she glanced at the fallen soldiers. They’d both fallen silent, curled shapes in the dark. No more moaning. In fact, no sound at all.

  Did Malin and I kill these guys? A troubling thought. I could have gone my entire life without taking another human life.

  It turned her stomach, but it seemed the night’s violence wasn’t over. Elna took the crowbar in both hands and rose, raising her makeshift weapon in front of her, facing the distant soldiers. Rod spoke through the bullhorn again.

  “That’s good, El. Come toward me. Stop this silly game. Come here. You won’t be harmed,” he said. “You made an error in judgment, nothing more, but it doesn’t have to escalate.”

  But she heard a sound growing behind her, a high whine. Turning, she saw a single headlight approaching from the island side. She scarcely had time to react before the little Honda 50 pulled up alongside her. Malin set the kickstand.

  “Change of plans?” he said. “You decided to take them on all by yourself? I can’t say I support that idea.”

  “Dead bike,” she replied.

  He patted the seat behind him. “Hop on. We’ll ride together.”

  She looked down at the tiny bike, practically designed for a child, and laughed. “Malin, I’m not sure there’s room.”

  “I’ll make room, one way or another,” he said. “Let’s get back to our island.”

  Our island. That made her smile, but instead of trying to climb on the bike, she settled on another course of action.