EMP Resurgence (Dark New World, Book 7) - An EMP Survival Story

by J. J. Holden

  She looked directly at the webcam and put a grimace on her face, nodded curtly, and said, “Of course. I understand completely. You’re in a rough situation, and you’re just not able help us deal with this other threat at the moment. You keep the invaders off our backs, and we’ll keep your flank protected. We’ll get through this as we always do, right? Together.”

  He nodded and smiled, though his expression looked more grim than happy. “Thanks for understanding, and I’m sorry we won’t be able to meet our obligations.” He gave the camera a haphazard salute, then the screen went blank as he disconnected the call.

  From behind, she heard Ethan let out a low whistle. He said, “I’m kind of surprised at you, Cassy. We really need those troops.”

  She spun around in the swivel office chair, coming to a stop facing Ethan. She let out a deep breath, then nodded once. “I hear what you’re saying, Ethan, but I have a better plan. You know that we aren’t likely to withstand a full assault by Maryland without Ephrata’s support. We need to take the pressure off them to get that support, and the best way to do that is to use them as bait.”

  Ethan looked confused for a moment, then his eyes lit up with understanding. “Oh hello! You’re going to let them get attacked and then have the Confederation swoop in like the cavalry, saving the day. Did I guess right?”

  She shrugged, smiling with her most innocent expression plastered on her face, and he burst out laughing.

  Now, she would just have to convince Michael.

  * * *

  Mark came to a stop in front of the nondescript door, his footsteps continuing to echo down the long, barren corridor. He took a moment to catch his breath and prepare himself mentally, then knocked lightly on the door. A man’s voice from inside hollered out for him to enter, so he opened the door and stepped through, closing it behind him.

  The office was Spartan, almost completely unadorned save for a massive bookshelf that consumed every inch of one entire wall. Half of the shelves were stuffed full of binders, unlabeled, and the rest were full of various bits of equipment—radios, fax machines, and still other devices he didn’t recognize at all.

  On the other side of the huge office desk, Harry Emerson sat in his office chair, leaning to one side lazily, his eyes roaming over Mark from head to toe. Harry’s gaze always seemed to be searching, looking for information and always seeming to shine with disapproval. Mark hated dealing with the CIA’s liaison, but it was part of his job. He was, after all, the civilian liaison representing the many civilians ensconced in NORAD.

  Harry motioned toward a simple chair on the opposite side of his desk and said, “Mark, it’s great to see you again. Grab a seat. We have a few things to discuss.”

  Mark smiled, a well-practiced expression, but he sure didn’t feel it. Harry was a shark, and Mark knew it. Any conversation with him was dangerous, even if he was your friend. He was most definitely not Mark’s friend.

  Mark crossed the office and sat in the offered chair. He tried desperately not to fidget under Harry’s intense, unblinking gaze.

  Harry, shark extraordinaire.

  Mark said, “I’m not sure why you called me here today, but it’s always a pleasure meeting with you.”

  “I know you don’t mean it, but that’s okay. You and I are both professionals. When we have a job to do, we simply do it. Even when dealing with people we like, even with those who may not like us either. Such is the way of politics, eh?”

  Mark nodded. There wasn’t much he could say to that since all of it was true. “As much as we may not like it, you’re right. Politics is part of the job. So are our meetings, for that matter, but I was a little surprised to receive your invitation to meet here.” Of course, it had been an ‘invitation’ in name only, but since declining such a meeting would likely be fatal, professionally if not physically, it was hardly a request.

  Harry smiled. He crossed his right leg over his left thigh, forming a figure-four, and interlaced his fingers on his belly as he leaned back in the chair again. He made a clicking noise with his tongue, acknowledging Mark’s comment. “Of course I appreciate your coming,” he said. “I need to pick your brain for a minute, and I know you’re familiar with the situation in Louisiana with several of our bases being raided somewhat regularly. What else is going on in Louisiana, do you think?”

  A shiver ran up Mark’s spine. What did Harry know? Mark had taken great pains to hide his messages to the troops in Louisiana, regarding the search for Janice’s family, but it was still possible that Harry had discovered it. If so, what would he make of it? Obviously, he didn’t know what to make of it or Mark would be dead already. He still might end up that way if he wasn’t careful…

  He said, “What do I think? Well, I’m surprised that you’re looking to work with my department on something like that, but I’m glad to hear it. We civilians owe our lives to you folks in the Agency and our military leadership. We don’t forget that, never fear. Anything I know, you only have to ask. I’m kind of excited to be helping, actually.”

  If his situation weren’t so dire, he would have smiled. He had delivered that line masterfully. The only thing that remained was to see whether Harry bought it. By itself, putting in an order to search for a bunker resident’s family wasn’t unusual, but those orders had to come from the CIA or the DIA, not from the civilians like Mark no matter who he knew. Harry was smart enough and paranoid enough to wonder what it meant—and would eventually figure it out if Mark slipped up.

  Harry sat looking at Mark for a long moment, his face frozen in a neutral half-smile. At last, he said, “Good. It relieves me to hear that. So, if you’re familiar with the situation in Louisiana, what do you know about the troops in our firebases searching for surviving relatives of people here in the bunker?”

  It was a bit of an effort of will for Mark not to fidget with his hands. He was an old hat at this sort of thing, however, and kept his face carefully friendly. “I know there’s a form our people can fill out and submit. On approval by the military chain of command, our troops in those regions will make at least some effort to locate those people. Usually, they go to any last known address provided on the form, and sometimes following up on any clues left behind if the residents moved on and left a note. I know that seven out of ten people out there died in the last couple years, but from what I gather, the success rate at finding surviving relatives is more like one in ten. Probably because there was so much chaos and dislocation during the post-EMP population adjustment phase.”

  Harry nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving Mark’s. “Good to hear. So, I need a favor of you. Some help you can provide. The short version is that I need your department to pass out new survivor location request forms to all the civilians here on base. This new, modified version of the form has a simple checkbox for those who have no known family members in the regions we control. As of tomorrow, the old forms will no longer be in use, and the CIA is trying to build a database of all family members who might live in the controlled territories.”

  Dammit. Mark struggled to keep his expression neutral, to mask his sudden fear, but that new system would mean that the search request forms he had slipped in would no longer be valid. Since he would have to deliver a new form to everyone, including Janice, she would know that nothing was being done anymore to find her family unless she filled out the new form correctly, which she would do enthusiastically. That would remove much of his leverage with her.

  “Of course, Harry. My department reports to yours and the military chain of command. If you can have someone deliver the forms I need to have distributed, I’ll make sure it gets done quickly.”

  Harry’s eyes were still locked on Mark, unwavering. It was a little creepy. “Thanks. I know I can count on you. You are, after all, one of the few truly professional people I have under me, outside the analyst group. I have another meeting in five minutes, but I’ll be sure to get those forms to you today. Please make sure the completed forms you get back are delivered to us da
ily so we can stagger sending them out to our field units.” He then leaned forward and grabbed a sheet of paper on his desk and began reading it.

  It was obvious that Mark was dismissed. He left the office without another word, quietly closing the door behind him. Once he was out in the dull gray corridor again, he let out a long, slow breath, allowing some of his tension to flow away. This might be really bad for him, he realized. When he had put through Janice’s search request, bypassing the chain of command, he had fudged her name so that if the communication had been intercepted, it couldn’t be traced back to her, and eventually to him. With new forms going out, one expected from every person, any halfway-decent CIA analyst—not to mention the DIA computers—could cross-reference the names of those family members with the new form, and so discover her real name. From there, it would only be a hop, skip, and a jump before they realized how it must have been able to slip through the cracks the first time.

  He stood up straight and adjusted his tie, then strode purposefully toward his own home. If there were any cameras on him, he didn’t want them to see him behaving in any way unusual. By the time he got to his own suite, he was sweating from anxiety. Now he’d need a shower and a change of clothes before moving on to his next scheduled meeting.

  * * *

  Jwa staggered, one foot after the other, his hands bound behind his back and a rope tied around his neck with the other end tied to the pommel of one of the horse saddles. The Confederation pursuers had bound his head to stop the bleeding—while he was still unconscious from the bullet that had grazed his head, mercifully—but the bandages were haphazard. They covered his left eye, and the resulting lack of depth perception made it hard to walk across the uneven ground. Each time he fell, they stopped their horses and allowed him to get back to his feet.

  He was grateful they hadn’t simply killed him, nor had they even dragged him by that rope when he fell. They hadn’t spoken to him directly, perhaps assuming he didn’t understand English, but nothing they said in earshot had led him to believe they were going to kill him immediately. They were going to deliver him to their leaders and leave the decision to them.

  At least this group of Americans understood the proper role of soldiers, even if they didn’t show any sign of truly appreciating the sheer joy that came of knowing their place within the chain of command. Part of him would rather have been killed by that bullet that had knocked him unconscious, yet the weaker part of him was happy to be alive. He cursed his weakness. Surely the Great Leader would have wanted him to sacrifice himself rather than allow capture, but his body had betrayed his purpose by falling unconscious when he’d been struck.

  The only saving grace was that, from what he overheard, his sacrifice allowed his other three men, his loyal troops, to escape their pursuers. Those men were his Korean brothers and his responsibility. At least he had succeeded in that duty…

  Ahead, he saw the familiar-looking walls of Ephrata rising up in the distance, the same walls he had climbed over twice before, today. This time of course, he wouldn’t be climbing back over. They would merely march him right through the gate, a victory prize and trophy of war. A spectacle.

  Jwa spat on the ground at the thought, then focused on preparing himself mentally for the rough “questioning” that no doubt lay ahead.

  * * *

  Cassy looked up as her front door opened, and Michael walked inside. He came over to the couch opposite her, facing where she sat in the recliner, and made himself comfortable. She set down the paperwork she had been working on and said, “It’s been a while since you had any time to come see me. I was starting to think you were avoiding me.”

  Between the storm clouds brewing to the north and the south, Cassy knew he’d been spending every day crisscrossing the Confederation to ensure the army was prepared, as well-supplied as possible—ready at a moment’s notice.

  “So Ephrata is positive the latest raiders came from the Southern Cantonment,” Michael said. “They seem to be catching on, up there…”

  “How’d they come to that conclusion?”

  “The surprise raid this morning—a full battalion successfully got inside their walls before the battle started.”

  “Right. I heard about that.”

  “Ephrata reports that they think only three escaped, all Korean. They also captured one Korean who I am told wears the rank insignia of a sergeant. The rest were slaughtered to the last man.”

  Cassy paused to consider the ramifications. She knew the town of Ephrata was even more adamant now about their decision not to contribute troops to the Confederation, feeling the need to protect themselves first. Not that she could blame them. The problem was, she needed Ephrata’s numbers placed under Michael’s command where they could do some good. Whether the Confederation defenders could hold off the full weight of an assault from the Maryland invaders remained to be seen. It would be dicey without those additional troops. She thought back to her plan with Ethan, and tried to figure out how to use that to resolve this new problem. First, she had to get Michael to see the danger of not doing something like she had planned.

  She let out a long, frustrated breath. “So much for whatever little headway we had made in getting them to contribute troops. What do you think are the odds that we can hold off an attack if Maryland throws everything they have at us? Can the Confederation hold?”

  Michael broke eye contact, looking down, and his silence spoke volumes.

  Slowly, as though thinking to herself, she said, “What if their reluctance to send troops stems not from shortsightedness, not from cowardice, but from some other more pragmatic reason? We’ve never known them to be so shortsighted in the past. It’s gotta be something internal, some sort of political thing. It’s the only reason I can think of that would make them tuck their nuts away and hide.”

  Michael clenched his jaw and gave her a slight nod, remaining silent.

  “So then, we have to get them involved,” Cassy said. “In the long run, we need that to have the best chance of winning. But if the problem really is their internal politics, which we know little about, what can we do to shake them up?”

  Michael reached up and rubbed his chin with his thumb and index finger. He looked a little bit like a super villain contemplating his next plan to conquer the world. He said, “You’re right. The problem must be his opposition making it difficult for him to divert troops away in the face of being raided regularly.”

  Cassy frowned. “I think what we need to do is help our friends in Ephrata get some sort of decisive victory. Something really big and noteworthy, or at least something we can spin that way.”

  “That’s what you did before the war, right? Public relations?”

  She felt the corners of her mouth turn up in a faint smile. She hadn’t thought about that life in a long time, almost like it had happened to someone else entirely. “Yes, in Marketing. I intend to make much ado about nothing, given the opportunity. A real PR victory, even if it’s really only a small victory strategically. It just has to look great for us to spin it.”

  Michael stood and began to pace her tiny living room.

  It made her a little anxious to see him pace like that, but she didn’t interrupt his thoughts. She and Ethan had come up with a plan already, but she worried Michael might not like it… She had to present it the right way, or get him to think it was his idea.

  He said, “The option that comes to mind would be for us to divert some of the forces we’re gathering. Instead of preparing to receive a full assault from the ’vaders, a smaller force can hold it together down south for a limited time.”

  She nodded, grasping the basic idea. “And what do we do with the troops we pull out? If only we could get Ephrata to see the value of working together.”

  He stopped pacing then, his eyes looking distant as he thought through the problem. “We know that Ephrata is getting raided from both the north and south, right?”

  “Right.”

  “What if you manage to co
nvince our friend there to shove some of his outlying units east and west, making it appear that they’re weak militarily in the area facing the Northern Cantonment? If we could lure either side into an attempt at another heavy raid on the town itself, then the diverted Ephrata troops could move back into place, encircling the attackers. That’s where the other Confederation units would come into play.”

  Cassy suppressed a smile. “It wouldn’t take the invaders long to figure out they had an apparent window of opportunity.” She felt her excitement growing and stood from her chair without realizing it. She pounded her right fist into her left hand and said, “How amazing would that be? Trap them, then hammer them with Confed troops. Not only would we demolish what could be a fairly sizable enemy unit, it would happen right at Ephrata’s very walls. The residents couldn’t help but notice that battle.”

  “And with a victory like that, due to the Confederation’s help no less… It might give our Grand Mayor friend just the ammo he needs to push through a change of policy. Then we’d have access to all of Ephrata’s resources, and yet with those walls, they could leave a much smaller force to protect just the town itself—”

  “—and the rest of them could march south with us to deal with the bigger problem,” Cassy interrupted.

  Michael ran his palm over his close-cropped hair, then sat back down. “I do believe we have a plan.”

  * * *

  1100 HOURS - ZERO DAY +637

  Jwa had spent the last day confined in a bedroom. The bars on the inside of the windows, the heavy steel fire door, and the cinder block walls had insured he couldn’t leave. The Americans had put a bag over his head as they marched him through the town anyway, so even if he escaped, his only option would have been to simply walk in one direction until he eventually found himself at the city walls. He had no idea which part of town he was in and would be just as likely to walk into a nest of soldiers as he was to avoid detection long enough to reach a town wall.