by Kip Nelson
Hostile Grounds
EMP Crash Book 5
Kip Nelson
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Copyright © 2017 by Kip Nelson
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Chapter One
The summer wind swirled through the high-rise city blocks and whistled as it scurried through the small holes that had appeared in the empty buildings. Once upon a time, this street would have been filled with people, and Mack would have had to push through the crowd. The noise would have been deafening, but now there was only silence, and the crunch of gravel underneath their feet. For now, the temperature was temperate, but soon the warmth of the golden sun would give way to the winter chill and preparations would need to be made. But that was something for the future as they had more immediate problems.
Mack now was free after being held by the Lost Children, a group of young people who had eschewed the authority of adults and struck out on their own. Their king, a teenager called Peter, was ruthless and was about to order the execution of both Mack and Maggie when Tristan, Maggie's son, saved them. Now on the run back to the settlement, Mack already was planning his next move. At first, they had been walking at a swift pace to escape the territory of the Lost Children. So, once they had moved out of reach Tristan assured them they would not be followed, as the Lost Children rarely ventured out of their territory. Since then their pace had slowed as they tried conserving energy, and Mack noticed the tension simmering between Maggie and her son.
Mack found it difficult to imagine what it must have been like for them. Maggie had spent so long searching for her son. Indeed, she must have harbored morbid thoughts as well, and now that she had found him again it was difficult to know what to say. Mack tried to hang back to give them some space. Yet, he understood it was hardly ideal circumstances under which to celebrate a reunion, especially as Tristan evidently still was coming to terms with the fact he had betrayed his king.
Mack examined the young man and saw his mother in him; not only in the shape of his cheekbones or his dark, soulful eyes, but also in the way he carried himself and formed his expressions. Even now, they were walking in a similar manner and Mack had to stifle a laugh. Since he was unfamiliar with the city, he had to trust that they were taking the shortest route to the settlement, and while they spoke his mind lingered on the future.
“It's going to be okay, you know,” Maggie began awkwardly.
She loved seeing her son again, but she resisted the urge to stare, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. In truth, all she wanted to do was hold him close and never let go, but she didn't want to smother him. It was as though she wanted to make up for all the lost years where she hadn't been the best mother she could have been.
“I know,” Tristan said in a small voice. He kicked a stone and it skittered across the ground, finally resting in a pile of rubble.
“What you did was very brave. I know it couldn’t have been easy for you, and I wanted to thank you.”
“I couldn't let him kill you,” he said flatly.
They walked on and both gazed at the horizon, at the broken city that had been their home. There was so much to say between them, and yet, it all seemed so difficult, and too big to talk about. Mack wished he could do something to facilitate their conversation, but he knew they had to get there in their own time.
“I'm sorry, Tristan,” Maggie said after a while, her voice cracking with emotion. Her son looked at her with surprise.
“What for?”
“For everything. For what you've been through, for this,” she said, gesturing to the city with her hands, “and for before. I should have been there with you. I never should have left you alone.”
“Mom...”
“No, I need to say it. I should have said it a long time ago. I should have said a lot of things. I've made mistakes, and I haven't always been the mother I could have been, but I want that to change. From the moment this thing started, all I wanted to do was find you and look after you again. I could only hope that you were still alive, because if I ever thought that you were dead I just wouldn't have been able to take it.” Maggie inhaled deeply, trying to control herself.
“That life seems so long ago now,” Tristan said in a hollow voice. “I thought of you, too. I figured if anyone would have survived you would have, and you'd be out there somewhere, still fighting the good fight.”
“I shouldn't have been fighting any fight. I should have been there with you. I put my job first for too long, Tristan, and I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry for not being the person I should have been, but I feel like we've been given a second chance, and things are going to be different. You're my responsibility, and my privilege, if you'll let me be your mother.”
“Mom, you don't have to ask that. You've always been my mom,” he said.
“I know,” she replied, moving closer to him and placing a hand on his shoulder, “but I wanted to say it, so it's out there, so you know that, no matter what happens, I'll always love you, and I'll always find you.”
The feeling of her touch brought back so many memories for Tristan, feelings of safety and warmth, like when he was a child and scared of monsters under the bed. Maggie always would come in and shout to scare away the monsters because she was scarier than them, and he would end up laughing and then being lulled to sleep by her soothing voice. But as she spoke to him he was conflicted, because he was one of the monsters that his mother used to chase, and he wasn't sure how to tell her.
His mind was heavy with the burden of the things he had done, and even now, when he was sure that he did the right thing, he only could think of the Lost Children he had left behind. When they first formed, they had sworn an oath to each other, an unbreakable vow that they would be each other’s family and would leave their old lives behind. Peter had demanded unwavering loyalty. Tristan had broken that vow, but he never wanted his mother to discover the things he had done, for she only would be ashamed, as he was of himself. He knew that to her he was still the child she had left behind, yet so many things had happened. Tristan did not want to dispel the illusion, and part of him found it comforting to be reminded of the time before the apocalypse...before he was forced to change.
While the mother and son were talking, they seemed to be getting distracted, and Mack had to increase his pace an
d interrupt their conversation. They were startled, as though they momentarily had forgotten his presence.
“I hate to come between the two of you, but we don't seem to be going in any particular direction,” he said.
“Don't worry, I know where we're going,” Maggie said, flashing him a smile.
It amazed Mack at how she could go from one extreme to the other. Back in the cell she had been morose and defeated. Yet now, with her son once again by her side, she was back to her old confident self. She headed off, bearing east, and the trio of survivors made their way through the empty city.
“Do you ever get used to how quiet it is?” Maggie asked Tristan. The young boy pressed his lips together.
“Not really. Sometimes I used to find somewhere to be alone and close my eyes to try remembering what it sounded like with all the cars and the people. The first few nights after everything calmed down was strange. It was too quiet, not what we were used to at all. Even now, I look around and I still can see how the place used to be. It all seems like a bad dream, like at any moment I'm going to wake up and things will be back to normal. It's funny. When I came down streets like this, I used to wish they would be empty so I could walk without being pushed or shoved, but now I'd give almost anything to have everyone back.”
In his mind's eye Mack could see what the boy was talking about, how the streets would have been teeming with people going about their lives. Every nook and cranny of the streets would have been filled with people trying to eke out a living. Now it was all gone. It most likely was the same story all across the country, and probably the world, including his home, and the city in which his wife lived. He once again found himself thinking of Anna, wondering if they ever would be reunited in the same way as Maggie and Tristan.
While they walked, Maggie and Tristan marveled at how things had changed. They reminisced about familiar faces they had encountered in the city, like the homeless man who Maggie always tossed a few coins to because of his clever signs, or the old lady who walked down the street with her five dogs, but as quickly as a smile flickered on Maggie’s face, it disappeared. A moment of happiness was replaced with a glum solemnity as she realized those people were likely dead, and perhaps even the animals as well. But, for the time being at least, she and her son were still alive.
Then they heard a foreboding noise behind them. Maggie was filled with dread, wishing she had not thought that last thought.
“Stop right there,” a voice behind them drawled. The three of them stopped.
Maggie and Mack held up their hands, and Tristan did the same. None of them moved, not even to turn around. The voice was too low to be one of the Lost Children. Mack's eyes quickly darted around, but didn't see a sign of anyone else, so it was likely this person was acting alone. They were standing in a street with tall buildings on either side of them. Before them was an intersection that split into four directions. Piles of rubble and trash lined the streets, offering chunks of rocks as weapons, but Mack didn't know if he would be able to get to them in time.
“We don't want any trouble, just want to be on our way,” Mack said. The man behind them ignored him. Mack heard the familiar click of a rifle. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
“You. The boy. Turn around,” the man said. Tristan's eyes widened in panic and he looked at his mother. “Now!” the man shouted.
Maggie gave Tristan a quick nod and he slowly turned around, not lowering his hands. Mack inwardly groaned as he felt powerless. Tristan already had been through a lot. All Mack wanted was to get the boy and his mother back to the settlement where they could have some time alone together. He could feel Maggie bristle and he wished they had had more time when escaping from the Lost Children to collect their weapons, but as it was they were unarmed and completely helpless.
Tristan's arms were shaking as he held them up. His lower lip trembled and he felt his stomach twisting inside. The man before him was old and covered in dirt. His clothes were more like rags, and even from a few feet away his stench made Tristan's head swim. The man had long red hair that was darker because of all the dirt caked into it, and his bulging eyes stared unflinchingly at Tristan.
“I only want the boy, you two can go,” he said.
“What do you mean? You can't have him,” Maggie said.
“He needs to pay for what he's done.”
“You've got the wrong boy. He's not who you think he is. Please, you're making a mistake, we're just trying to get home,” Maggie said, turning around to find the rifle immediately trained on her.
“He needs to be punished for what he's done, for what they've all done,” the man holding the rifle rasped.
“What are you talking about?” Maggie said, her expression one of confusion. By now Mack had turned around as well. The man stared at her and then snorted with laughter.
“You really don't know do you?” he laughed again, and then looked directly at Tristan.
“I suppose you're playing one of your little games, aren't you, boy? Because everything is a game to you all,” and his voice turned into a snarl.
“Look, I don't know who you are or what you want, but this is my son and I'm not going to let you hurt him,” Maggie said, setting her face to stone.
“Oh, your son is he? Yes, I'm sure you'll be proud when you find out what he's done. Those kids, they've turned into monsters. You think he's all innocent? You've got another thing coming. They run over the place like locusts, taking what they want, kidnapping other kids, killing, doing all the things that kids shouldn't do. And they laugh and pretend it's a game, but it ain't no game. Not to those of us still living. Your kind has caused so much pain, and I'm glad to be dealing out a measure to you, boy.”
Maggie and Mack turned to look at Tristan, whose eyes were burning with tears. He stared at the man, fists clenched by his side, hating that his secrets had been revealed by a stranger.
“Oh yes,” the man said, his eyes now twinkling, “they've done some bad shit, and nobody touches them because they're kids, because they think they're victims of this world and it's not their fault. They know exactly what they're doing, and I won't let them get away with it. Not anymore,” he said, and tightened his grip on the gun.
“Tristan...” Maggie said, but she got no reply from her son.
In a fit of embarrassment and shame he choked out tears, and then spun on his heels to run away. Maggie's eyes widened in fright for she knew what was coming next and she wasn't prepared to lose her son so soon after she had gotten him back. The man swung the gun to ready his aim on Tristan and prepared to fire. Maggie yelled out her son's name again, desperation in her voice.
Chapter Two
Grace was standing in front of the prisoner, barely able to believe what she just had heard. The whole point of the operation was to begin communicating with the other faction, but it seemed to be precipitating war. The girl before her spoke threatening words, and all of Grace's hopes came tumbling down. She had promised the community safety and a better way, but perhaps Bob was right and war had been inevitable. Grace wanted to shout at the prisoner, wanted to scream and tell her that this was no way to live, that they all had to work together, but she knew it only would have fallen on deaf ears. Instead, she didn't give the prisoner the satisfaction, and simply spun on her heels and walked away.
Once she was outside in the fresh air she pinched the bridge of her nose, and again wished that Mack was there as he surely would have known what to do without being filled with such doubt. In a way, she felt as though she had lied to the people in the settlement. She was so sure this plan would work, and yet, she only had provoked the other faction, and they surely would return in greater force. Before she left the building entirely she told Saul to take the prisoner somewhere secure, and that they would deal with her later. Saul nodded and with the help of another man took the prisoner away.
In the depths of the night she was surrounded by those she considered friends. The stars twinkled above, but even they offered no co
mfort. Around her lay people sleeping soundly, people to whom she had promised peace, a promise that she did not have the authority to make. Taking over leadership of the settlement had been a bold, rash move, one that she had been sure was the right call. Yet, it seemed now that it was a mistake. One by one, she looked at all the faces around her and told them, if they did not already know, about the threat.
“What are we supposed to do now?” Luis asked.
“I don't know,” Grace snapped, and immediately regretted her tone when she saw the hurt look on Luis' face.
“It was always a risky proposition, but you can't hold yourself responsible for the actions of others,” Hank reminded her.
“No, but I am responsible for what I said to the people of this community. I came in here, and ripped apart their leadership because I thought I could do better, because I thought that we could offer them something more than war, and because of this plan, I've only placed those same people in danger.”
“You had to do something. We couldn't just let those people take what they wanted,” Freddie said. “You did the right thing.”
“Did I? I'm not so sure anymore. I promised them a better way, but it looks as though the only thing I'm going to give them is more sorrow. I have to get away and think...” she said, and then moved off as nobody had anything helpful to say.
Grace disappeared into the shadows of the night and found the darkness comforting. She always had, even when she had been a child. So many other kids in the orphanage had been afraid of the dark, but not her. She knew it was just another state, and it wasn't inherently bad. People just were afraid of their own minds, not what was lurking in the dark, because often there was nothing there. But the darkness was good, because it could hide things, and when it was nighttime, she often could pretend to hide from the light of the world.
In those silent, still moments nothing seemed to matter, not the loneliness, not the pain inside, not the feeling of being unworthy and unwanted, and this had carried through to her adult life. When she had been a hacker her life had been lived in the shadows, dancing away from the searching lights, always keeping hidden, and so it was in real life as well. Whenever she left her apartment she was a stranger to people, a woman with a secret identity who never let anybody get close. Except now it was different. Darkness consumed the world, but Mack had shown her light, had shown her how faith and hope could be powerful allies.
