EMP Aftermath Series (Book 3): Retribution

by John Winchester

  "Don’t touch that pistol, call for help, or do anything stupid, or I swear I’ll kill you. Give us the keys," Brian said, pointing the pistol at the guard holding the lantern just outside the boxcar. The guard’s hand hovered over his own pistol, shaking wildly. Brian had gotten the drop on him.

  The wide-eyed guard outside the boxcar looked nervously back and forth between his fellow guard and Brian. "I can't do that. You'll kill us both anyways after I give you the keys."

  "I promise you I won't. All I want is out of here. I just want to go home. Give me the keys, let me go, and you'll never see me again," Brian said.

  "Give... keys!" The guard being strangled spluttered. His fingers were inside the chain, trying to keep the chain off of his throat. "Don't want... die... boss... don't... need... know," the guard said, spraying spittle.

  The guard outside pressed his lips together, looking wildly between his coworker and Brian, uncertain what to do.

  Brian cocked his head, eyeing the guard down. "I promise you. Just give us the keys and we'll all go our separate ways. Like your friend said, the boss doesn't need to know."

  The guard outside fumbled to take his key ring off of his belt, then tossed the keys inside the rail car. The keychain landed on Kenny's lap with a jingle.

  The night exploded into bright color as a shot rang out. A second followed close on its heels. Kenny's ears rang and his night vision was ruined, leaving him groping in the dark for the set of keys.

  The strangled guard flailed about, his boots striking the wooden floor and walls. He spluttered and gasped as Doug choked him to death.

  "What happened?" Kenny asked.

  "I shot the one outside. Quick! Get us out of these chains," Brian said.

  The kerosene lantern had tipped on its side on the ground outside, but the flame still flickered. Kenny fumbled with the keys until he found the one that unlocked his shackles. Free at last, he removed the chains from the other men. The battered prisoner took off running just as soon as the shackles were off his feet, ignoring the hushed cries from the other three men. Just then, the upturned kerosene lantern went dark, its flame extinguished.

  Kenny climbed down and righted the lantern, then used his flint and steel to relight it. In the light he saw that Brian and Doug were already stripping the clothes and boots off of the dead guards, replacing their prisoner's stripes with the Martin Hale uniforms.

  "Will you help me find my mother and fiancée?" Kenny asked.

  The guilty look on the other two men's faces gave him the answer he needed. They had been through too much already. They were going to flee.

  "Don't go back to town, Kenny. Run. Just Run. Your mother and that girl are already gone," Brian said.

  "I've got to try. I can't just let them go," Kenny said.

  Doug shook his head at Brian, and then snatched the gun out of his hands. He turned to Kenny and handed him the pistol. "Here. I'm sorry, but I can't go with you either. Take this. Good luck."

  Kenny nodded his head at the other two escapees. "Good luck."

  He was on his own again with no idea where his mother and Sarah were. What was he supposed to do? Where should he look? Tweed said he was loading them up and taking them somewhere far away. This was the end of the restored railway line going westbound. They couldn't go any further in that direction. Would he take them east on the train, or were they somewhere else?

  Kenny ran up along the side of the train. If they were going eastbound, they would be on this train. He ran all the way up to the locomotive engine. The prisoner transport car was the only other boxcar, the other cars were flat cars stacked with barrels. Since the train only ran once a week, Sarah and his mother had to be somewhere else.

  The riverboats. They had to be on one of the riverboats.

  The docks lay a half-mile from where he was. Even at this hour, men were loading and unloading cargo by kerosene lantern light, a hundred men doing the job of what one or two forklifts could have achieved in a few hours in the old world. He ran towards the docks, moving as fast as he could by the light of the moon. He had to get there fast before one of the boats left.

  As he reached the docks, the sky brightened as the sun began to rise. Kenny watched the men moving goods for a few minutes, observing the flow of their work. Two men stood up from their makeshift seats where they'd been eating and went back to work. One of the men had left his hat behind.

  Kenny followed behind them, snatched the hat up and put it on his head, then picked up a crate from one of the stacks of freight waiting to be loaded. Other porters nearby gave him no notice as they hauled the goods onto the ships. He kept his eyes on the ground and carried the box onto the ship closest to him. Looking around as much as he could without being too obvious, Kenny frantically searched the vessel. There was just too much space to cover on the huge riverboat. The bay doors protecting more valuable cargo from the weather were locked. Only weatherproof cargo in crates or barrels was stacked up on the main deck of the ship.

  Further up the dock, a loud horn sounded three times, coming from a riverboat.

  "You!" A man yelled at him from the dock. "Get over here now!"

  Kenny set his crate down on the deck and walked over to the man, holding his chin high with false bravado.

  "What the hell are you doing loading this stuff right now, slacker? Get over there and finish loading The King's Archer like everybody else. She's supposed to leave in ten minutes and you assholes still aren't finished loading."

  Kenny nodded his head and made his way to the other riverboat. Which boat were they on? What if they were on The King's Archer about to leave port? He couldn't possibly find them in ten minutes!

  Kenny picked up a barrel from the dockside and joined the other men carrying cargo over the gangplank to The King’s Archer. It was a massive riverboat. Onboard, he followed the other porters and set his barrel down on the deck. On the way back to get more freight, Kenny stopped dead in his tracks.

  Scarface, the man from the warehouse, was coming down a flight of steps leading to the second level of the riverboat. The scar and the scowl he wore were unforgettable. The brutish man trailed behind him. Both men had bandaged hands.

  This was it. Sarah and his mom had to be here. Kenny looked down at the floor so they men wouldn't recognize him, then went back to the dock and picked up a heavy sack of flour. This time he stacked the flower inside a small storeroom next to some other goods. He scanned the deck of the ship and the dock with a glance to make sure no one was watching, and then stowed away behind the stacks of cargo.

  Kenny crouched down and waited for the ship to get under way. Once the porters were done loading the ship and left, there would be fewer eyes to worry about. Kenny held the revolver in his hand, thinking through a plan of action. After the ship was underway, he would wait another hour and let the crew settle down before he searched the ship from top to bottom. He prayed that his gut instinct was right. If he was on the wrong boat...

  Chapter 16

  The Ohio River ran straight as an arrow for the next four miles, and over half a mile wide. It was the home stretch, five more miles downstream and the ship would arrive at home dock. Captain Patty O'Donnell pegged the riverboat's wheel with a loop of rope attached to the dashboard, locking in their trajectory to free her mind up for other tasks. A heated discussion was boiling over inside the cramped quarters of the wheelhouse.

  "All right, boys, take it outside of the wheelhouse. It's too damned hot to argue in here," she said.

  Her sons had made a rare show of force, banding together to voice their disagreement. It was the first time they'd ever questioned her judgment, and while she was irritated that they hadn't even given her time to formulate a plan, it made her proud that they showed backbone and stood up for what they believed in.

  "You've always steered this family in the right direction, but... we think... well, we think you're making a big mistake this time. We've got to do something about Anchor Riverboat before the situation gets any worse.
Tweed's made things difficult for us before, but this time he's gone too far," Pete said. "It's one thing--"

  "I can't believe you let that policeman walk all over us in Harrington," her middle son, Tommy, interrupted. "We could have beaten the crap out of those Anchor dock workers."

  Pete rolled his eyes, and her youngest son, Garrett, looked away, smirking.

  "Don't think I'm turning a blind eye to this. I'm well aware of the danger he poses to us. Hell, we just lost the Schneider Farms contract to Anchor, and he cut off our supply of salt. He's made his intentions abundantly clear.

  "I'm not saying that we are going to sit around and take this shit from Tweed forever. I'm saying we have to be careful about how we handle it. He's got everybody in his pocket. Police, banks, politicians. We can't get caught up in fistfights or respond to his other nonsense. There has to be another way, a different angle.

  "When, not if, we make our move, we need to finish off his companies in one fell swoop and make sure his fall from grace is a hard one. People are either making money from him or are afraid of pissing him off. He's like a weed. Now that he's got a foothold it'll be hard to dig him out," Patty said.

  "There has to be something we--"

  The clanging of the bow watch bell interrupted Garrett, signaling that something required her immediate attention. She unhooked the loop off of the riverboat's wheel and scanned the water ahead for trouble. Footsteps pounded on the staircase leading to the wheelhouse as the bow watchman ran up to give her a report, but as the Dawn 'til Dusk passed a small, tree-covered island obscuring her view around a bend in the river, she saw for herself what the cause for the alarm was.

  Just downriver from them, a large riverboat had sunk. Only it's second deck and smokestacks showed above the waterline. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized the bright gold on black script spelling the ships name along the side of the wheelhouse. It was her other ship, the All Night Long.

  "Shit! What the hell happened to her?" Pete yelled.

  Captain O'Donnell turned the wheel, ignoring the angry cries of her sons as she steered the boat closer to the wreckage of the other ship. As they drew close, the issue became plain.

  A cavernous hole gaped in the port side of the riverboat. Her first impression was that the ship had struck a tree washed downstream during a storm, but she quickly dismissed the idea. A tree, even a fully grown oak, couldn't have done this kind of damage. The hole was much too large; the impact must have come from something with a ton of momentum to puncture her hull so severely. There was only one thing that could have done this. Another riverboat had rammed into the ship with its bow and staved in the side of the vessel. She'd stake her life that it was an Anchor Riverboat ship that had caused the damage.

  Her nostrils flared as she steered the ship around the last bend in the river separating her from her home. A thin column of smoke rose into the air from the burnt out husks of what used to be the family fishery and warehouse. The only thing remaining untouched was the dock itself and a single pier extending out into the river. The warehouse was a total loss. Nothing remained but ashes. Her clients had lost everything. Their cargo had supposedly been kept safe and secure, waiting to be shipped up- or downriver. Hundreds of crates and barrels of cargo had been lost. What the hell had happened here?

  Some of the crew stood by silently fuming, others raged and shouted at the destruction of their property. Her oldest son, Pete, was the only one with any sense. He stood by the railing with a pair of binoculars held to his face, scanning the area. With a look of relief on his face, he turned to her. "It's ok. The house is untouched. I see Uncle Jamie and the others on the porch."

  Patty let out a sigh of relief, releasing the tension built up in her gut. She was terrified that the family home had been burned down with the rest of the operation.

  The comfort was short lived, overpowered by the destruction around her. Bile rose into her throat, and she struggled to keep the anger out of her voice as she commanded the crew. "Make ready to dock. Sound the bell, let them know we're coming."

  Pete nodded and ran down to the bow of the ship, ringing the bronze bell loudly. Figures emerged from the family home, running towards the dock.

  She angled the wheel and cut the engine's power as they came alongside the dock, then reversed thrust, canceling out the river's downstream pull as she let the ship's momentum slowly take them alongside the dock. When the ship gently nudged up against the dock bumpers, the crew tossed lines out, securing the boat. Wondering if it would be the last time, she pulled a cord hanging down from the wheelhouse ceiling that rang a bell down in the engine room. It was a signal to the crew below deck to stop shoveling coal and let off the built up steam pressure, which was no longer needed now that they were at rest.

  Patty made her way down to the dock, finding herself surrounded by a dozen family members that worked at the fishery and warehouse. Some wore the same angry expressions as her crew, others looked despondent.

  "Patty, thank God you're all right," her brother, Jamie, said, limping down the dock with the aid of a cane. His leg was bandaged around the thigh.

  "What happened here? Are you all right, Jamie?"

  "I'll live. They shot me, but the bullet went clean through. It happened last night. Some men set fire to the warehouse. We tried to stop them and put out the fire, but there were too many of them. Any time we stepped foot out of the house they fired on us. We were pinned down."

  "Damn. And the All Night Long?" she asked.

  "Yesterday. A ship I’ve never seen before sank her on this stretch of the river. I don't know whose ship it was, the name was covered up."

  "Did we lose anyone?"

  "No. Your cousin got his foot caught in the wreckage when it happened, and he lost the foot. If infection doesn't set in, he'll live."

  Everything had changed overnight. All that she had worked for and built was gone. The world had turned against her again, just as hard as it had after the EMP took everything away the first time. She had given her family a way to provide for itself, and now it had all gone to shit. They were up the creek without a paddle. Again. They relied on her, and now they had nothing to show for it. No, she corrected herself. The world hadn't turned against her. One man had. Tweed.

  The man was evil. This went beyond the pale. Damn the consequences. Now he'd taken nearly everything from her. It was time for some payback. Patty felt the rage grow cold inside her as she resolved herself to a terrible task. She would do everything in her power to kill Tweed for this and destroy his company. He would learn that you didn't get away with pushing the O'Donnell's around. This family pushed back.

  "Listen up! Those of you that worked in the fishery, gather guns from the house and bring them to the ship. I want every rifle, shotgun, and pistol we can carry. If you can shoot and you want to get some payback, get on board now! Pete, get the crew to load the ship's hopper with coal and gather supplies. Arm the crew!"

  "What are you going to do?" Pete shouted over the family's roaring approval.

  "I'm going to find Tweed, and I'm going to kill him."

  Chapter 17

  At the far end of the camp from the mining operation, Chief Howell stopped in his tracks and did a double take at the pitiful scene in front of him. A large cage made from chain link fence and razor wire held three emaciated prisoners. The men were chained to sturdy metal posts sunk into the ground, their unnaturally thin arms bound above their heads, their skinny legs shackled to the base.

  The three gaunt skeletons of men had sunken eyes and skin that sagged off of their bones, both haunting and surreal. They were wasting away to nothing. It pained him to see men who were no different than the old television ads that showed neglected and emaciated dogs from the pound. Howell almost jumped out of his skin when one of the men sat up and looked over at him, casting a hollow-eyed stare in his direction. Against his better judgment, Howell inched forward towards the men to get a better look.

  "Please let me go back to work, Boss. I wo
n't cause trouble again. Just put me back to work. Let me go back to work, please. You'll see. I swear I won't act out. You understand, don't you? I need it. I need it bad! Please! I need it," the prisoner muttered weakly, his hands twitched as if he were holding them to a hot plate.

  Howell backed away from the cage, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He wanted to question the prisoner, but couldn't blow his cover over it.

  "Pitiful sacks of shit, aren't they?" a voice said behind him.

  Howell flinched, surprised by the guard who walked up behind him seemingly out of nowhere.

  The guard laughed and clapped a hand on Howell's back. "Calm down there, buddy! You're about as jumpy as these twitchy bastards."

  Chief Howell gave the guard a thin smile and shook his head. "They give me the creeps, that's all."

  "Ha. They do at that, don't they? Well, it gives the other prisoners something to think about. Step out of line and this is what'll happen to you. Hell of a thing, though. That's some nasty shit there, one bitch of a withdrawal," the guard said.

  "Nasty," Howell agreed. He gave a friendly wave and walked off the way he came. "I'd better get back to it. They don't guard themselves, do they?"

  The guard chuckled, "That's a good one."

  Howell kept going and didn't look back until he was far away from the caged prisoners. Looking more closely now at the prisoners passing him in the camp, he noticed something he hadn't seen earlier. All of them were gaunt and had a ghostly pallor. Their bodies were hunched over as they walked, like they were ready to drop from exhaustion. Their eyes were sunken and tired, with dark circles underneath as if they hadn't slept for days. Yet their eyes shone with a maniacal energy that couldn't be contained.

  These men, there was something wrong with them, but what was it? He passed a tent where three prisoners sat on the ground talking. One of them had a severe tic and his cheek rose up unbidden every few seconds as he talked. Another's hands shook uncontrollably. The third man's eyes darted back and forth, from left to right, at a lightning pace.