Surviving the Collapse Omnibus: A Tale Of Survival In A Powerless World

by James Hunt

  “Yeah,” Mitch replied, straightening himself out, a smile returning to his face. “Real hard.”

  The pressure from the car made the gun in Kate’s waistband dig into her back. All she needed to do was get one hand free.

  Mitch wrapped his hand around her throat and thrust her head back harshly, barking to the two guys on either side of her. “Find a car with a big backseat. I don’t want to fuck her in the snow.”

  “Afraid it might get even smaller?” Kate asked, grunting through her teeth.

  The two men snickered, but Mitch brought the tip of his blade to Kate’s jugular. “Find one, now!” They disappeared, tugging at door handles that were locked.

  Mitch applied pressure to the blade, Kate’s skin so cold it was numb to the metal’s touch, but she felt the warm trickle of blood roll down her throat.

  “You know, you’re the second woman we ran into today,” Mitch said, smiling. “The first one wasn’t as pretty as you.” He leaned close to her ear, whispering like an angry lover. “I’m glad I get to go first.”

  Kate flinched from the tickle of his hot breath. All her thoughts ran to the pistol. A car door opened.

  “Hey, Mitch! I think I’ve got one!”

  Mitch laughed, turning his focus to the other rapists, which removed the edge of the blade from her neck, and Kate quickly jerked left, her back scraping against the car she was pinned against, her right hand reaching for the pistol behind her back.

  Mitch’s meaty hands grabbed her left arm, tugging hard at the sleeve. But she had the pistol in her hand now, and she aimed, her finger inching over the trigger. Mitch’s eyes widened at the sight of the gun, and he immediately let her go, but it was too late.

  Kate fired. The pistol jerked wildly in her hand, and the bullet missed, skimming to the left. Mitch ran, but Kate used her left hand to help steady the weapon. She lined up her second shot and fired again.

  Sparks popped on the hood of a BMW as the bullet chased Mitch through the traffic lanes as he fled with his tail between his legs. Kate still lay on the snow, arms thrust out stiffly with her finger on the trigger as she scanned for the remaining two men. She spotted the tops of their heads passing behind a truck two lanes over. She fired, shattering the truck’s window.

  A slew of curses filtered through the air, and the pair followed their ringleader back toward the overpass. They were well out of range, and Kate’s aim was too poor to hit them even if they were closer, but she squeezed the trigger again for good measure but only shattered another car window.

  Kate panted heavily, the cold and the adrenaline fraying her nerves. She didn’t move from the ground until she couldn’t see the men in the distance anymore. Only then did she lower the weapon and then stand.

  Exhausted, she leaned against the same car that they had pinned her against. With a shaky hand, she grazed the cut on her neck and found the blood already dried in the cold. She leaned her head back, lifting her gaze to the grey skies.

  Memories from the city flashed in her mind. She had fled New York to escape the madness and the clamoring of people doing whatever they needed for survival. But in the chaos and the collapse of law and order, she had discovered something worse than people who wanted to survive. People who wanted to take.

  Kate shut her eyes, letting her pulse slow, gathering her strength. After a minute passed, she pushed off the car. Her boots crunched through the snow, and she shuffled forward toward the airfield. She kept the gun in her hand, her eyes alert for any more people she might run into. And without realizing it, she placed her finger on the trigger.

  3

  The added layers of clothes didn’t do much. The cold ate through everything. The grey skies were bursting at the seams, dying to release their flurries of snow. And even farther north was a storm that would make this weather seem like a walk in the park. But they still had time. So long as they kept pace.

  Rodney Klatt glanced behind him at the four travelers that had hitched their wagon to his cart. Each of them had their heads down, feet shuffling through the snow. He reached into his pocket and removed a silver pocket watch that dangled from a thin chain. He cradled it carefully then checked the time. They’d only been walking for three hours. He snapped it shut and then gently ran his gloved thumb over the engraving on the top. Be better.

  It had been almost four years since his dad passed. The watch in his pocket and the cabin up north were the only things that were left of him. And the moment the EMP went off, he was thankful for both.

  Rodney clapped his hands, his attempt at motivation. “We’ve got less than two days to make it to the cabin.” He glanced back toward the northwestern skies, where that blizzard was gaining steam.

  Yesterday morning, before the EMP went off, Rodney had checked the three-day weather forecast, just as he did every morning. Meteorologists were tracking a massive storm coming down from Canada. Some had predicted ten to twelve feet of snow by Monday along with hail and sleet. It wasn’t something Rodney wanted to be caught in, but with the miles yet to travel, they were already cutting it close.

  The quick crunch of boots on snow was followed by a hand on Rodney’s shoulder. He turned to find Mark, huffing from the short run. “Hey, we need to take a break.”

  Rodney looked past Mark to find Glen leaning up against a sedan, his head flung back with an expression of pain etched on his face. Glen was pushing seventy. A young woman, Laura, walked over to him, her short blond hair completely tucked beneath her purple knit beanie. She was small but pretty. And in the middle of the road, resting on a sled they picked off a van in the northbound lane, was Mark’s sick daughter, Holly.

  “We can’t afford to stop before nightfall.” Rodney sidestepped Mark as if that was the end of it, but the man followed, blocking him again.

  “It’s like fifteen degrees outside. I can’t feel my toes, and Glen looks like he’s about to have a heart attack.”

  “We can’t stop every time someone gets tired. We’re on a tight schedule. The storm’s coming.”

  “Five minutes,” Mark said. “That’s all we need.”

  Rodney shook his head and grunted. “Fine. Five minutes.”

  “Thanks.” Mark returned to Glen and Laura, giving them the good news, and then checked on his little girl, bringing a bottle of water to her lips. His daughter had been sick when they left New York. It was dangerous moving her like this, out in the cold. But survival had a tendency to outweigh common sense, and after what they’d seen in New York, Rodney knew why they wanted to come.

  Cities had once been a beacon of civilization, but now that beacon had turned into a blazing fire that burned anything and everything within its domain. Anywhere with large and isolated portions of people had transformed into the most dangerous and violent areas in the country. So Rodney and his motley crew were heading north, into the wilderness, as far away from cities as they could get.

  The cabin had enough supplies to last them for a long time, because Rodney had been preparing for a long time. But even after all of that preparation, watching the world unravel still didn’t seem real.

  Rodney leaned up against a sedan. He turned and glanced inside and then snickered. It was nice, one of the luxury cars. He bet that whoever owned that Beemer would trade every penny they had for a warm fire and some food in their belly. Money, retirement accounts, investments—none of that stuff held any value anymore.

  He set his pack down and reached for the canteen bottle. He took a few swigs, the water so cold it burned his tongue and throat. He fought the urge to drain the rest of it, knowing it’d have to last. Clean water wouldn’t be a problem once they made it to the cabin, but there wasn’t any guarantee they’d find fresh, drinkable water on their journey. The farther north they trekked, the fewer towns and homes they’d come across to scavenge.

  He was glad to see that everyone was taking his advice, staying hydrated. The cold was deceptive when it came to exertion, but just because the temperature dropped didn’t mean you stopped swea
ting. He reached for the pocket watch and checked the time. “All right. Break’s over!”

  “Just a few more minutes,” Mark said, still knelt down by Holly.

  Rodney pocketed his father’s watch and adjusted the pack on his back, making his way over to the group. He moved quickly, but his haste did little to stir the group. “We need to get moving.”

  Glen winced as he stood from leaning on the car, and Laura helped steady him. “How much farther is it?”

  “Far,” Rodney answered, slightly annoyed.

  Mark fiddled with the straps on Holly’s sled, whispering something to her that Rodney couldn’t hear.

  “Mark,” Rodney said. “Let’s go.”

  “Just a minute,” Mark said, struggling with the sled’s straps.

  Rodney exhaled. “We don’t have time for this. We need to—”

  “Just hang on!”

  Laura jumped, and Rodney took a step back in surprise from the outburst, but just as quickly as the anger appeared, it subsided.

  Mark slouched. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

  “How long can a person without water?” Rodney asked, arching his eyebrows. “Or food? Anyone know?” He looked to each of them in turn. “What about freezing to death? Anyone know how long that’ll take?”

  Mark stood, wiping his palms on his legs. “All right, Rodney, you’ve made your—”

  “The nights up here will dip below zero,” Rodney said, looking at Mark. “At negative ten degrees, with only ten miles per hour of wind, exposed skin will be frostbitten in less than twenty minutes.” He pointed to Holly. “You want her caught in that?” He gestured to the rest of the group. “We’ll freeze to death if we don’t get north before that storm. And it won’t matter how many layers we put on. We’ll be buried in snow. Visibility will be cut down to nothing more than a few inches in front of your face. You can’t even see where you’re stepping. A twisted an ankle, a broken leg, and your dead out here. Now, you might not like the pace I’m setting, but I think you’ll like the alternative even less.”

  Heads lowered, all but Mark’s. He nodded and reached for the rope attached to Holly’s sled. “All right, Rodney. You’re the boss.” He tugged the sled behind him, and Laura and Glen slowly followed his lead, leaving Rodney alone and in the back of the pack.

  Rodney shut his eyes, releasing the tension in his hands and body, exhaling. He didn’t ask for this. All he was trying to do was the right thing. The road ahead would be tough, but they needed to be tougher. He knew they didn’t like it. He knew they resented him. But he also knew that they’d be dead without him.

  Rodney fished out the pocket watch, reading the engraved words one more time. Be better. He closed his fist around the silver case and started forward. He wanted to carry it for a little while, hold it. It made it feel as though his dad were with him when he did that. Tough love ran in his family. And that watch helped remind him of his own.

  Despite the frigid cold, Holly’s body had transformed into a tiny furnace. Every couple of minutes, she groaned, rolling from side to side on the sled.

  “It’s okay, baby,” Mark said, the rope pulled taut over his shoulder. “Just hang on.” But the medicine he’d given her didn’t seem to be helping. If anything, he thought her condition had grown worse. His eyes flashed toward the back of Rodney’s head. He was barely older than Luke, and while Mark didn’t like being led by the nose by a twentysomething, he liked the thought of his daughter freezing to death even less.

  The thought of Luke quickly shifted his mind toward Kate on her journey south to pick up her son. He shook his head. Our son. A pain of guilt flooded through him at having to say it to himself.

  Luke was a good boy who had come out of a bad situation. And Kate was a good mother who’d done the same. It wasn’t until after they’d married that Kate finally told him what happened. And it made him sick to his stomach.

  But it explained a lot about the restlessness of the woman Mark had fallen in love with. She always needed to be on the move, almost as if she was afraid to stay in one place. He suspected it was one of the reasons why she’d taken to the life of a pilot. Always moving, seeing new places—there was a romantic notion to it.

  But the constant moving, the school changes for the kids, him being forced to find work every couple of years, starting over again and again and again—it was daunting. So when he finally convinced to settle in one spot, Mark was ecstatic. But none of that mattered anymore.

  He wondered if she had made it to the airfield and wondered more if she’d found a plane that actually worked. He didn’t like the idea of her flying through the air by herself in little more than a tin box, but when she set her mind to something, it was nearly impossible to convince her otherwise. But she was a damned good pilot. And that was what he held onto to make himself feel better.

  Mark remembered the first time she took him flying. It was a little prop plane that she owned but sold a few years back. Aside from Luke, he was the first man that wasn’t a copilot to go up with her.

  It was a beautiful day outside, but despite the view, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She looked so at ease in the sky, and it was amazing to see her in her natural element. He nearly pissed himself when the engine failed, though. It wasn’t until he was screaming for his mother and she was laughing her ass off that she revealed she had cut the fuel. It took a long time for him to live that down.

  After they landed, Kate kept fiddling with her shirt the way she did when she was nervous. He immediately thought it was because of the few choice words he’d said in the air when he thought they were going to die, but when he started to apologize, Kate kissed him hard on the lips. When she pulled back, she was crying. Before he asked what was wrong, she blurted out that she loved him for the first time.

  Mark had already told her those words three months before, and it was the longest three months of his life. He knew about her past and how difficult it was to trust again, so when she finally said those three words, he didn’t take it lightly. He proposed six months later.

  It took some coaxing before Kate agreed to having another child. The scars that Dennis left behind had healed, but weren’t forgotten. He knew she’d never forget.

  Holly coughed, her chest rattling with phlegm, then sniffled and pulled the blanket closer to her chin.

  “Glen, will you get the medicine out of my pack?” Mark asked. He couldn’t reach himself without stopping, and he wasn’t in the mood for another lecture from their fearless leader.

  “Is this it?” Glen asked, thrusting the bottle at Mark’s face.

  “Yeah,” Mark answered. “Go ahead and give her one pill.”

  Mark didn’t like the fact that the medicine wasn’t helping. He didn’t like the fact that his wife was heading hundreds of miles in the opposite direction. And he sure as shit didn’t like the fact that he was being led by a guy who, up until yesterday, he barely knew.

  “She’s not getting better?” Glen asked, appearing at Mark’s side and pretending not to wince with every step.

  “I don’t think so, but it’s hard to tell,” Mark answered.

  “It’s not too late to turn back,” Glen said, a hint of hope in his voice. “We could be back at the camp before nightfall.”

  The “camp” Glen referred to was a makeshift shantytown with a few tents set up and run by a doctor. There was zero organization and enough food and water to last everyone a few more days. The doctor running it was betting on help showing up before that happened. But after what Mark had seen in the city, he knew help arriving was a long shot.

  “If we change the plan now, then it messes with Kate’s return.” Which Mark hoped would be sooner rather than later. “Rodney’s been right about a lot of things so far. Not that he needs reminding of it.”

  Glen chuckled. “He’s a young man but a good one.” He rubbed his knobby, arthritic hands. “He could have left us to die, but he chose to take us with him. That’s not a man I mind following.”

  L
aura appeared on Mark’s other side, her head down, and she wiped her nose, which had turned a bright cherry red. “He doesn’t have to be so angry all the time, though, does he?”

  “He’s just inexperienced as a leader,” Glen answered, keeping his voice low. Rodney had a good lead on them, but the quiet of the road made their voices feel louder. “He’ll get better as he learns.”

  “Well, he could learn to say please every now and then.” Laura kept her head down and gently prodded her lips. “It’s so cold I can’t feel anything.”

  “We just need to keep moving,” Mark said, addressing them both. “The quicker we get to the cabin, the quicker we can put our feet up for a while and wait for all of this to blow over.”

  “You really think that?” Laura asked. “That this will blow over?”

  “The country’s been through tough times before,” Glen answered, still limping along. “The Civil War, the Great Depression, both world wars. We’ve persevered through it all. We can get through this.”

  “But nothing’s working!” Laura said, flipping off her hoodie and exposing the blond pixie haircut underneath. “No phones, no cars, no power. It’s never been this bad.”

  “It has,” Rodney said, still walking ahead of them, though the distance between them was shorter now. Without realizing it, Mark had caught up to him. “We didn’t have power until the late nineteenth century. Technology still exists. It’s just not what most people are used to.” He turned around, stopping. “Over two thousand years ago, the Greeks had running water and sewage systems in their cities. They had specialized farming techniques and grew into one of the world’s most powerful empires.”

  “So what?” Laura said. “We’re supposed to be excited over the fact that we’ll be dressing in togas in the summer?”

  “I’m saying that people have ingenuity. Glen is right. People always find a way to survive. And plus, we have something the Greeks, the Romans, and the Aztecs didn’t have.”