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

by James Hunt

  Rodney met Harley with his newly deputized officers at the town’s entrance, moving the cars across the road to form a blockade. Dean Smultz sprinted down the road from his watch post, the sky turning a golden hue behind him as the sun set.

  “What is it?” Rodney asked, elbows planted on the hood of a rusted Buick.

  “Trucks,” Dean answered, sliding over the Buick’s trunk and repositioning his rifle. “They’re armed to the teeth.”

  The town behind Rodney was quickly boarded up, everyone knowing their role. They had evacuation routes planned to the neighboring communities, and there was already a runner in the woods, sprinting to let everyone else in the other towns know that something was coming.

  An engine rumbled, the noise foreign after so many months without traffic, and when the first truck made its way down the embankment, followed by a dozen more, Rodney tensed.

  “If they charge, fall back!” Rodney said, his eyes still locked on the front grill of the first truck. “But do not fire until fired upon!” This was their group’s first real test of strength, and Rodney knew there was a flurry of nerves attached to those trigger fingers.

  Through the scope, Rodney noted the soldier uniforms. They hadn’t had any contact with the United States military since the National Guard intervened, but he wasn’t sure how these fighters planned to greet them.

  The lead truck slowed a few dozen yards before the barricade, and doors opened and two soldiers stepped out, brandishing their weapons behind the cover of their armor-plated cavalry.

  “Drop your weapons!” But when the order wasn’t obeyed, the soldier scooted forward. “I said drop your—”

  “Lieutenant!” The breathless voice was attached to a very small man dressed in a suit and tie, his glasses falling down the bridge of his nose, waving his arms. “Stop!” He slowed down at the convoy’s front, stepping between the two groups, arms extended to both parties. “We don’t need any bloodshed.” He looked at Rodney then at the lieutenant. “How about a show of good faith, huh?”

  A few seconds passed, and the lieutenant lowered his rifle.

  “Stand down.” The lieutenant’s order echoed down the line, and once all of the weapons were lowered, the small man in the business suit looked toward Rodney and the line of guns still trained on the military.

  “Please,” the suited man said, his hands folded together. “I’m sure you have all been through quite a lot, but we’re not here to take anything or hurt anyone. We’re here to help.”

  Rodney wasn’t sure of the man’s agenda, but the fact that they weren’t pointing their guns at them provided enough good will for him to reciprocate, and Rodney lowered his weapon, ordering the rest of his group to do the same. “Let’s get these cars pushed back.”

  The old rust buckets were wheeled off, and Rodney was the first to cross the line to shake the little guy’s hand. He was even smaller up close.

  “Bob Gally,” he said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “The gentlemen you see behind me are with the army’s Eighty-Seventh Infantry. We were stationed in DC when the EMP went off. I, um... oh.” He patted his jacket, searching his pockets for something, which he found and handed over to Rodney for inspection. It was a badge. “I’m with the Department of Reconstruction.”

  Harley joined Rodney on his left as he handed the badge back to Bob Gally. “Never heard of it.”

  “No, you wouldn’t have,” Bob said, laughing, which he quickly stopped once neither Rodney nor Harley joined in. He cleared his throat. “It’s a new department the president and his staff put together once we secured the capital. We’re in the process of reestablishing communications across the country, and our group is part of the northeastern efforts.” He looked back at Rodney’s group, offering a friendly wave, which wasn’t returned. “Are you the person in charge here?”

  Rodney sized up the little man. If this was a charade, then it was one of the most elaborate charades that he’d ever seen. He looked at Harley, who gave him a slight nod, and Rodney exhaled. “Follow me.” He started to walk. “But your military stays outside the town.”

  Bob Gally obliged and quickly fell into step behind Rodney, his short legs churning twice as fast.

  Every eye turned toward Rodney, who led the representative of the Department of Reconstruction toward the town hall, where the bulk of their people were trained to go to during their practice drills.

  Rodney didn’t like the idea of having her stay when something like this happened. His original plan was to send her to the next community with their runner. But she wouldn’t budge. He didn’t know how it was possible, but she’d grown even more stubborn.

  Golden sunlight flooded through the door as Rodney stepped inside. Faces turned. Some of the people were armed, but they lowered their weapons when they saw it was him. He saw her at the other end of the hall, helping Holly with a pair of elderly women that couldn’t move on their own anymore.

  “Kate,” Rodney said, his voice echoing in the open space.

  When she turned, those golden rays lit up her scarred face and slightly crooked nose that came from a bad set by the medical team who’d revived her. The medic who worked on her told him that she had been dead for nearly thirty seconds. After she woke up, Rodney told her what happened and asked her what she saw during those thirty seconds that she was dead.

  “This is Bob Gally,” Rodney said. “He’s with the United States government.”

  Kate shook Bob’s extended hand but didn’t reciprocate the smile. “I didn’t realize we still had one of those.”

  “We do, or at least we will,” Bob said, that nervous laughter slipping through again. “So I’m told that you’re the person in charge here?”

  “That’s what they tell me,” Kate said, looking at Rodney.

  Bob examined the hall and clapped his hands together. “You’ve got quite the setup. Very organized, which makes the transition back onto the grid easier.”

  Bob talked about sending Kate to DC to join the other “elected” leaders from similar communities that had assembled all around the country after the wake of the EMP. He spoke of the small pockets of resistance that still remained in the larger cities where the terrorists’ strongholds were starting to dwindle away. But the only thing that Rodney focused on, the only thing that was repeated in his mind, was what she told him when she woke up.

  “It was dark for a long time,” Kate said, her voice so weak but her eyes alive as she lay on the cot set up in the tent. “But then everything was white, like snow, and it melted away. Grass and flowers, and life sprang up around me. It was warm, and I closed my eyes, thinking this was where I was meant to be.” A tear fell out of the corner of her eye. “But I was alone.”

  Rodney squeezed Kate’s hand and wiped the tear from her cheek, repeating the same words that she’d spoken to him when they left their apartment building in New York. “A world where you’re by yourself isn’t much of a world to live in, is it?”

  And over the course of that harsh winter, Kate and Rodney kept as many people alive as they could. And then when the snows thawed, more people found their way to their towns. They built a community together. And now that community was on a journey to rejoin the rest of the world.

  Bob Gally clapped his hands again, snapping Rodney from the memory. “Shall we get started?”

  And to that Kate smiled. “We already have.”

  Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story!

  Writing has always been a passion of mine and it’s incredibly gratifying and rewarding whenever you give me an opportunity to let you escape from your everyday surroundings and entertain the world that is your imagination.

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