Dark New World (Book 4): EMP Backdraft

by Henry G. Foster

  “How many HAMs do we have? Can we spare one?”

  “We still have maybe half a dozen. That’s after sending radios to our two biggest allies, but they’re both to the south of us. I didn’t even know there was a working settlement to the north, at least not for many miles. But with a HAM radio they could help us tie this region together, too.”

  “You have a point. But I sort of think we need them protecting our northern border more than they need us to protect their southern one. But as a regional bulwark? Interesting. I think the HAM might end up being a good bargaining chip. Go ahead and make it happen, Ethan.”

  Ethan thanked her and left. Cassy turned back to the map on the table, and returned to considering the Clan’s evolving strategic situation. Yeah, a working car would be a Very Big Deal for them, in a lot of ways. Cassy sent up a quick prayer in thanks for the trader’s visit. Just in case there really was someone upstairs listening, she also prayed for her people’s safe return. And for the friendly trader to stay well, while she was at it. Winter journeys were nothing to take lightly.

  - 4 -

  0730 HOURS - ZERO DAY +145

  JAZ STOOD BY the horses and double-checked her backpack while Choony shook hands with Cassy, the two of them saying their goodbyes. Their four Marine escorts were already mounted and waiting. Jaz and Choony would ride on the wagon, drawn by two horses, with Jaz riding shotgun since Choony wouldn’t.

  Although they’d all become decent equestrians, neither Jaz nor Choony had much experience with wagons other than the crash course Cassy had given them the evening before, but Choony did seem to have a way with horses. Probably because he was always so calm, one of his best features as far as Jaz was concerned. She never felt her fight-or-flight instincts kick in from anything he said or did, and it was… nice.

  Once the farewells were done—one could never be certain of making it home alive these days—the two stepped up into the wagon, sat on the bench, and set out slowly toward the northern border with the Marines riding out front. Most of the Clan kids ran beside the wagon as far as the now-leafless Jungle, excited at the change in daily routine, and the adults who attended kept busy keeping the smaller kids from getting run over.

  Once the party had left the Jungle behind, along with the frolicking kids, Jaz lost herself in watching the trees that seemed to slowly roll by. Normally she’d be chatty with Choony, but she was too busy trying not to snap at him. She didn’t want him here with her, since this should have been her own chance to shine, and to get away from everyone for a while, but it wasn’t his fault. When Cassy gave orders, they were to be followed, so Jaz had acted all, like, super thrilled about it, but she wasn’t really. And Cassy always did everything for the good of the Clan, so Jaz couldn’t even get properly angry about it. Which only irritated her more. Rather than take it out on her friend, she chose silence. Not that Choony’s company was bad. If she was truthful with herself, she kind of looked forward to spending more time with him, but she didn’t have time or patience to sift through those sorts of feelings. Maybe later.

  After a half hour, they’d passed well beyond the northern Clanholme border, beyond the food forest, and were about halfway to the copse of trees where Choony had hidden out after escaping Peter’s vicious invasion. It was now well known as a safety point and hidden supply cache. The two wouldn’t stop there, but it was the most well-known landmark north of the farm.

  Choony coughed, a deliberate noise, and yanked Jaz from her thoughts. “So are we going to spend the next few days in silence, or are you going to tell me why you are angry with me?”

  Jaz knew that, whether she spoke or not, Choony would take it in stride. His philosophy of life provided him a lot more inner peace than Jaz ever felt, but she couldn’t bring herself to want to join him in that. Fire still burned in her blood, and she rather preferred her way despite its drawbacks.

  Finally, she said curtly, “I’m not mad at you, y’know? I’m just bent that Cassy sent you. I wanted to go alone. No point risking both of us.”

  Choony only nodded. Of course he understood. Of course he didn’t take it personally. Of course that irritated the hell out of Jaz. Man, she was just not good company today and she knew it, but there was no point taking it out on her friend.

  * * *

  1000 HOURS - ZERO DAY +145

  The morning hours rolled by in silence, like the scenery around them, and Jaz kept up a sort of detached alertness that had become second nature in recent months. It allowed her mind to wander even as she kept a diligent watch on their surroundings. She was riding shotgun, after all. Their four Marine guardians weren’t visible at the moment as they passed through rolling hills. Two had ridden ahead and the other two rode their flank to scout whichever side seemed more likely to conceal a threat. That didn’t mean a threat couldn’t slip through and jeopardize the wagon, along with her and Choony. She stayed alert.

  Choony was the first to break the silence. “Thank you for allowing me to come without a fight, Jaz. The mission is important, and Cassy’s reasoning was sound. More than that, I want to do what I can to make sure you’re all right out here. You’ve come to mean quite a lot to me.”

  Jaz felt a little thrill in her belly when he said that, though she didn’t fully understand why. Sometimes it totally sucked not being really in touch with what was going on inside her…

  “Still being silent, eh? Well, I’m not going anywhere,” Choony said, and Jaz realized she’d gotten lost in thought and forgot to answer him. “So, let me know if you feel like talking. It’s going to be a long trip for so much silence.”

  “Sorry. I just zoned out is all. I’m sorry for being so crunchy. It’s not you, I promise. I like the company, too. But sometimes I just wonder—”

  A flash of something metallic in the sunlight, at the crest of a hill. Maybe half a mile away. “Did you see that, Choony?”

  Choony turned his head to look where she’d been looking. The gleam again. Choony whipped the reins and shouted, “Hiya!”

  The wagon lurched as the horses took off, accelerating into a run. Even over the mostly even, soft ground, as they sped up the wagon bounced roughly to and fro, and Jaz had to grab onto Choony’s jacket at one point to avoid falling out. She brought her shotgun close to her body, a football grip, to keep from losing it. Once stable she pulled a handheld radio out of her pocket. “Mike, Mike, this is Whiskey Two. We got a union tango under one click west-northwest, over.”

  A brief pause before the radio squawked back, “Roger, confirm unknown tango west-northwest of your position. Head east, Whiskey Two. We’ll catch up.”

  Jaz could barely hear through the adrenaline-fueled pounding of her heart in her ears. “Maybe it’s just an abandoned car or something,” she shouted at Choony over the clamor of the wagon and horses and wind.

  “Maybe, but if not I’m not giving them a nice, slow target.” Choony snapped the reins again and turned the wagon to the east, away from the reflection on the hill.

  Jaz scanned for cover. With the rolling terrain, visibility was limited, especially as Choony kept the wagon between the hills to avoid silhouetting themselves on a hill crest. It was a trick they’d learned from Michael. In the distance, a small forest lay between Clanholme and Brickerville. She shouted, “There’s a gap in those woods ahead at Penryn Road. If we can make it there, we’ll have a forest between us and them, and Brickerville’s only a mile away.”

  Brickerville was friendly to the Clan, and—

  “No good, there’s a creek between us and them, Jaz!”

  Damn, she’d forgotten about that. Still, they’d have a brief moment of safety to figure out which way to go, once they were through that gap in the tree line. It was overland, but farmland like they’d been traveling on, smooth and hilly like the rest right up to the edge of the creek. It was too fast and wide to ford safely with a wagon, however.

  Damn Hammer Creek. Always in her way. She’d been in a firefight with invaders along that creek before and knew it
s terrain. “Crap! We’ll have to get through the gap and then head north, but we’ll have to go through the spur of forest there, or around. That would take us west again, toward whatever’s back there.”

  Then Jaz caught sight of the now-silent high-tensile power line ahead, running east-northeast. “No, there will be a clearing for the power lines, no trees and less snow. We can try to cross there, or follow Hammer Creek north. Remember the clearing in the middle of the woods there? We can pass northward through that.”

  Choony didn’t reply, and didn’t have to. It was the only plan they had, and God willing, it’d work. At least it gave them cover and a good shot at eluding any pursuers.

  The tree line at Penryn Road came visible ahead, and Choony turned the horses just a little to the north, heading toward the gap in the trees. Behind, faint echoes of gunfire reached them.

  “Shit, I hope they’re okay,” Jaz shouted over the wind.

  Choony remained silent, focused on guiding the wagon through the sometimes rough land of abandoned farms through which they passed at speeds that sometimes felt unsafe to Jaz. They followed along with the power lines, so it wasn’t too rough to pass, though the occasional sudden bounce did shake an “Oof!” out of her.

  The gunfire behind them continued until they plunged across the north-south road and into the gap between the trees. The woods to either side muffled the sounds of the battle behind them into an indistinct echo. Then there was only the sound of the horses’ hooves, the creak of the wagon wheels, and her own thoughts.

  In minutes they arrived at the west bank of Hammer Creek. On the far side lay an abandoned farm. Despite her hopes, the creek wasn’t passable with a wagon here, not without stopping and moving very slowly, at least. Choony began to pull the horses to the left, north, to parallel the creek. As expected, there was a vast clearing in the midst of the woods on their own western side of the south-running creek.

  But their plan was short-lived. Jaz spotted two people as they popped up on a makeshift platform around the top of a grain silo. She didn’t remember that platform being there before, and the people wore black uniforms. Arab invaders, then. Shots rang out, but the wagon was moving quickly and these particular soldiers weren’t great shots, or their weapons weren’t maintained well, or both. Either way, heading further north was out. To the south lay two miles of dense forest, as she recalled.

  “Buddha guide us, we will have to take the creek,” Choony shouted, and in response Jaz grabbed onto the wagon as tightly as she could. She hoped her friend’s god or whatever was listening.

  The horses sprinted toward the creek as Choony guided them, shaking the reins in the time-honored signal to speed up. The horses went from a gallop to a dead run, and Jaz said her own prayer then. If they made it across, they’d be clear all the way to Brickerville. If not, they’d be sitting ducks until after they ran across a hundred yards of wide open terrain, and she didn’t like those odds at all.

  “Oh, shit—” she whispered as the horses plunged into the creek, which ran narrow and rapid at that point.

  The wagon went airborne. All Jaz could do was hang on for dear life and try not to fall off. Then the wagon hit the creekbed hard, bounced again into the air as the horses continued their headlong rush, tilted crazily to the left and threatened to overturn. Before that could happen, they struck the ground on the other side with a bone-jarring crash, and the wagon righted itself, keeping to its wheels. She heard a terrible cracking noise then, as of timber splitting, and Jaz prayed the wagon wouldn’t fall apart under them—and it didn’t. Instead, they settled firmly onto all four wheels, though now the rear of the wagon tilted to the right, and the wagon kept shuddering as it tried to pull hard to that side. The horses slowed as they had to almost drag that right rear wheel through the soft earth. But at least they’d made it across and the wagon hadn’t disintegrated.

  Past the farm with its new invader hosts they ran, hidden now by riverside trees on the other side of the creek, and turned onto a small road that ran eastward. In only a few minutes they were careening toward the wooden walls and iron gate of Brickerville, and Jaz hoped the people there wouldn’t open fire on them. Fortune was on her side, though, and the gate swung open to allow the wagon to pass. Choony didn’t pull the reins to slow down until they were well inside the walls of the tiny survivor village of Brickerville. The exhausted horses slowed to a stop, blowing hard, muzzles foam-flecked and heads drooping.

  As the gates swung closed behind them, Jaz looked around with a wild grin on her face. The village of Brickerville had never looked so beautiful.

  * * *

  1300 HOURS - ZERO DAY +145

  Jaz picked at her constant stew, a courtesy of the village survivors. It was actually pretty tasty, but she totally never wanted to eat the stuff again. She’d had way too much this winter at Clanholme and would no doubt continue to have way too much of it, because constant stew was the single most efficient way to get nutrients and calories from food. With extra vegetables, leftover meat, and other bits and pieces thrown into the pot while it stayed on the fire at a slow cook, nothing went to waste. She’d learned that every culture had a version of constant stew, whether they called it hunter’s pot or mulligan stew or any of dozens of other names. It didn’t mean she wasn’t sick of it. To her, it was constant stew because she had a constant problem eating it, a thought that made her hide a reluctant smile.

  Choony ate his without complaint or even appearing to hate it like she did. He never complained about anything, though, so he might really hate it and she would never know.

  Jaz said, “I wish I’d known those Marines better. I really like them, maybe just because we were the ones who found them and led them to Peter. We wouldn’t be free now if they hadn’t happened along when they did, and now I gotta think, like, four of them are dead.”

  After he finished chewing his mouthful of stew, Choony said, “They didn’t just happen along. Ethan pulled off a minor miracle and contacted them, sent them our way. The timing reaffirms my belief in Karma, though. Anyway, there is nothing we can do about them, so it’s pointless to make yourself suffer over it. Things are what they are. But I suppose they could be okay. We don’t know for a fact they died. Maybe it was their radio that got killed.”

  Jaz took the last few bites of stew and pushed her bowl away from her. “It’s been, like, over two hours. If they were alive, they’d have radioed in by now or caught up with us, dude. Anyway, someone is making a bee-line for us, so I guess it’s show time.”

  Sure enough, the woman approaching walked right up to Jaz and Choony, stopped, and looked somewhat awkward. “So, I’m supposed to take you to our leader now,” the young woman said. She couldn’t be any older than Jaz herself, she figured, so of course she wasn’t the leader. Just like they didn’t let Jaz be on the Council, which irritated her to no end. Though after Cassy said nothing about her crashing their little get-together, she wasn’t sure where she stood with the other Council people. Maybe you just had to believe you belonged there.

  Jaz smiled at the girl, hoping to put her at ease. “Super! We’ve been all, like, on pins and needles waiting. Thanks.”

  She stood, followed by Choony who, she noticed, always seemed to want to walk behind her, though she was too used to that from people to even notice most of the time. They were led toward the town’s center. It was a large lot that sold storage sheds before the war and now housed most of their supplies. It was fenced off, but the ramshackle fencing showed that it was a recent addition. The mayor’s office was set in what was once the sales office.

  Before entering, Jaz looked across the street—Highway 322—and gazed in wonder at the acres of greenhouses clustered there. “I wonder why they didn’t put the mayor over there with all the food,” she whispered to Choony, who only grinned. They’d met the mayor before, and he was on the portly side.

  Then they both stepped inside. The office was lit with several bright storm lamps of the sort that the Clan relied on. The base co
ntained liquid fuel while an adjustable wick held a flame contained by a small glass chimney. They got damn hot and were a terrible fire hazard, but they didn’t get snuffed out by the slightest breeze like candles and they were harder to tip over as well.

  Sitting behind a rather plain-looking IKEA-style desk was the man Jaz recognized as the mayor of Brickerville. He looked a lot more tired than the last time she’d seen him, during a visit to Clanholme. She smiled at him winsomely and said, “Hi, Josh. How’s tricks?”

  Josh managed to smile back, but though his goateed lips made the motions, no joy seemed to reach his baggy brown eyes. “We’re alive, thanks. Jaz, right? Surprised you remembered my name. Flattered, but surprised. Sorry for my appearance. None of us have slept in a couple days, since the invaders moved into the area.”

  That got Jaz’s attention pronto. Maybe Brickerville had intel on their numbers or something. “How many, and when?”

  Josh waved his assistant away and once she left, closing the door behind her, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he said, “We know of a platoon of Arabs. They’re running around in five-man teams causing havoc. A trader was passing through at the time, and he said he’d seen the tactic before to the east of us. They come in, kill a bunch of homesteaders to cause a panic, and once everyone has mostly fled to a camp like ours, they move in trucks and loot the area before moving on. Like locusts. They’re leaving all the seeds behind, though.”

  Choony nodded. “Yes, that makes sense. Now that they can’t ship in supplies anymore, they have to eat just like we do. If they take the seeds, there won’t be anything to plunder after next year’s harvest.”