The Final Homestead: EMP Survival In A Powerless World

by Hunt, James

  Bits of wood and insulation drifted through the air, making it dense and scratchy as James struggled for breath on his path toward the window.

  The single pane glass shattered easily enough as James slammed the black bag through it. He brushed away the glass around the edges, the window barely wide enough for him to fit through as he climbed up and out of the attic and onto the roof.

  James sprinted along the rooftop, the terrorists still shooting at the ceiling. He reached the end of the buildings and dangled off the side of the roof, then collapsed into the grass. He stumbled to his feet, sprinting into the darkness.

  Relieved when James heard the whinny of his mare, he glanced back one last time to see the town still in an uproar. He pulled the stake out of the ground and then stepped into the stirrups, slumping forward in the saddle as he secured the black surgical bag.

  James kicked the beast and the horse raced across the plains, into the darkness and away from the shouts and gunfire of the town. Exhausted, he hoped the wind would keep him awake, and if he didn’t, then he hoped his horse would remember the way back home.

  21

  It was more open space than Zi had seen in her entire life. And it was so quiet. She’d never experienced such silence. At least not until the EMP. Sirens, trains, cars, planes, phones, it all stopped. But after a while, the sounds of machines were replaced with the terrifying screams of people fleeing from gunfire and the explosions.

  Out here, Zi heard the breeze move the tall grass in the fields. She heard the steady patter of hooves from the cattle and horses that roamed the open space. And the only vibrations she felt were the steady beating of her own heart as she stood outside under the stars.

  The sky had never looked so brilliant in the city. Thousands, no, millions of lights peppered the darkness. She had never seen the night look so crisp and so real.

  “How big is this place?” Zi asked.

  “Over one thousand acres,” Jake answered. “The land was bought by my great-great-grandfather during the Great Depression.” He pointed out into the darkness. “The east end of the property is marked by the Nueces River, and Highway 55 is to the west. North of us, we have a hundred-acre wooded area that’s good for hunting and target practice.”

  Zi nodded, then glanced up at the sky again. “Is it always like this out here?”

  “As long as there aren’t any clouds,” Jake answered. “C’mon. We need to start.”

  The pair walked back toward the barn where she helped Jake pick up some supplies.

  “Have you ever been on a ranch before?” Jake asked.

  “Nope,” Zi answered. “I grew up in San Antonio. In fact, I think this is my first time out of the city in five years.”

  “Did you like it?” Jake asked.

  Zi shrugged. “I didn’t have much to compare it to.” She glanced up at the stars. “I have to say that the view out here isn’t half bad.”

  “I like it out here,” Jake said. “But the city is fun too. There’s always something to do, something to see, people to talk to. Not a lot of talking out here.”

  “Sounds like you have a lot of space out there to run around,” Zi said.

  “Yeah, but I don’t go running too much.” Jake opened the barn doors. “I read a lot though. It’s about the only thing that I can do with my condition.”

  “Condition?”

  “It’s a heart thing, and it can make it hard for me to do physical activity sometimes.”

  Zi frowned. “Is that why you were in the city earlier today?”

  Jake nodded. “I have to go every six months. I have AVS, aortic valve—”

  “Stenosis,” Zi said.

  Jake stopped. “How do you know that?”

  “I was friends with a girl in high school who had it,” Zi said.

  “Did she get worse as she got older?” Jake asked. “I’ve read a lot of what to expect down the line.”

  “She had a pretty bad case,” Zi answered. “But I kind of lost touch with her after high school.”

  “I might have to get a heart transplant if it gets really bad, but those are rare cases,” Jake said.

  “Sounds like you’ve done your research,” Mary said.

  Jake flicked his flashlight to the left, illuminating some of the horses trotting back and forth behind the fence. “Most people don’t like to know what’s wrong with them. It’s like they’re afraid that if they give it a name, then it makes it real. What they don’t realize is that it’s always there, even if they recognize it or not. And it helps me know what to expect. And I can prepare. Just like how my dad prepared for all of this.”

  Once inside the barn, Jake led them to the last stall, which was filled with boxes.

  Zi gazed at the stacks. “So your dad is what? Like, one of those end of the world people?”

  “Preppers, survivalists, people give it all sorts of names,” Jake answered. “My dad just likes to be able to take care of things himself.”

  Jake removed one of the boxes and set it on the ground. When he opened it, there were dozens of spiraling spools of wire, and Jake picked one up and handed it to Zi.

  “What is it?” Zi asked, turning it over in her hands.

  “Trip wire,” Jake answered. “That’s what we’ll be setting around the house. And we attach it to this.” He reached deeper into the box and removed a shotgun shell. “We create a taut line with the wire and then attach one end to the shotgun shell that is attached to one of these, um…” He searched through the box, looking for something, and then pulled it out when he found it. “Ah, this. It’s like a little firing pin. It puts enough pressure on the shell to make it explode, which frightens whoever is trying to sneak onto our property, and at the same time alerts us that there is someone out there.” He returned the supplies to the box but didn’t close the lid. “Sound carries far out here, so we’ll set the traps starting three hundred yards out in all directions from around the house.”

  “If the traps are all around the house, then how will we work around it?” Zi asked. “And what about the animals?”

  “Animals are smarter than you think,” Jake answered. “As for us, we’ll create paths for ourselves where we’ll know it’s safe to move.”

  The pair carried the boxes to the north side of the house. Walking out into the field, Zi once again stared up at the starry night sky. “So have you guys done this before? Set traps?”

  “Just for practice,” Jake answered.

  Zi sighed in relief when they put the boxes down in the dirt, and Jake walked her through the process.

  To set the trip wire, a spike was driven into the ground and one end of the wire was tied to it and then pulled for six feet before attaching it to another spike, which had the firing pin to trigger the shotgun shell that would be hidden in the grass.

  “You always want to keep it pointed down into the dirt,” Jake said. “The idea is to alert us, not to kill anyone. Because the person that trips the wire could be friend or foe.”

  Both of them had their knees planted in the dirt, the soil moist and cool against Zi’s fingertips. She smiled, feeling the dirt getting beneath her fingernails. “I don’t suppose you guys still have showers during the apocalypse.”

  “We’re completely self-sustaining,” Jake answered, not picking up on the sarcasm. “We can grow our own food. We have water from the river. Solar panels for power to help with some smaller items around the house. Medical supplies. Weapons.” Jake finished digging his small hole. “We can last a long time out here.”

  The pair worked in silence for a while, Jake helping Zi with the first few trip wires until she was confident that she wasn’t going to blow her fingers off, then together they worked their way back toward the house.

  It was nice working with Jake. He was one of those kids that was more adult than child. It was probably due to his condition. Most kids that grew up with some kind of trauma like that ended up maturing faster than other kids. She saw that growing up a lot in her own neighborhood. N
ot to mention her own trauma.

  Zi had a younger brother growing up. She was Jake’s age when he died, and despite their different skin colors, she saw a resemblance of her brother in Jake. Ty was quiet, smart, and kind.

  At night, she still had nightmares of the day he died. It replayed in her memory so vividly it was like she was back on that river bank, trying to reach for her brother’s hand. But the current was too strong, and she was too little.

  “Zi?” Jake asked. “Are you all right?”

  “Hmm?” Zi shook herself from the memory. “I’m fine. Mind if I use the bathroom?”

  “It’s on the west side of the house. First floor, second door on the left.”

  “Thanks.” Zi wiped some of the dirt off on her jeans and tried to keep quiet on her walk up the front steps. She knew that Mary was resting and she didn’t want to wake her.

  Having come from a small apartment in the city, Mary was surprised at how large the house was. But even with the size, it was still cozy, and it brought back memories of her grandmother’s house outside of San Antonio before her parents had put her in a home. Zi had volunteered to take care of Nana Greyson, but the old woman was stubborn.

  “I’m not going to have you waste your days away with me,” Nana said, patting her on the hand the way she did whenever she was finished speaking on the matter.

  She was ninety-three when she finally passed. It happened in her sleep. The most peaceful way to go in Zi’s opinion, and with everything that she’d seen over the past twelve hours, she realized how precious that kind of an end would be.

  But Zi often wondered what Nana had thought about the night before as she laid her head down in that nursing home, surrounded by strangers, forced to lay in some bed that wasn’t her own, staring up a ceiling that wasn’t hers. She had hated that the woman was forced into a place like that, and she had gotten so angry that it created a rift between her and her parents so wide that they hadn’t spoken since.

  With the aid of the flashlight, Zi did her business. She washed her hands with a trickle of water and then dried them on the yellow towels that had small ducks embroidered at the ends.

  Zi stepped out of the bathroom, but stopped when she heard the heated whispering coming from Mary’s room down the hall. She approached slowly and leaned her ear toward the crack in the door, concentrating on their voices.

  “We don’t know these people,” Stevie said.

  “They saved us,” Maya said, her tone calmer than her husband’s. “They got us out of the city. We’re safe here.”

  “And for how long?” Stevie asked. “How long before they work us to death or decide that they have one too many mouths to feed? Do you think that James is going to pick us over his family? No. He’s already made that point very clear.”

  “They have so much,” Maya answered. “More than enough to go around.”

  “Yeah,” Stevie said. “So why don’t we take what we need to, and then leave?”

  Zi frowned and leaned away from the door, and Mary’s tone matched the disgust on Zi’s face as she leaned against the door again to continue her eavesdropping.

  “You want to steal from them?” Maya asked.

  “I want to keep us alive,” Stevie answered. “How long do you think this is going to last, huh? How long until those people that attacked the city find their way here? You saw what happened to that little town we stopped at. Those terrorists are everywhere! We need to head farther north.”

  “Stevie—”

  “We don’t have a choice, Maya,” Stevie said. “Look. I’ll get one of the guns, we grab some food and water, maybe some of their medical supplies, and then we leave. We just go. They won’t miss us, and even if we take some of their stuff, it’s like you said, they have plenty. We have to do this. This is what survival looks like now.”

  Maya’s silence was her consent, and Zi leaned away from the door but remained frozen in the hallway, processing what she’d overheard and suddenly wishing that she hadn’t.

  Zi quietly moved away from the door, unsure if she should tell Jake what she’d heard or if she should wait until James returned. But before she could think on it anymore, horses sounded outside, and she jogged to the front porch.

  Luis and another man she didn’t recognize dismounted a horse, both of them looking ragged and sweaty. Particularly the old man that was brought back, which Zi figured was the doctor from town.

  “Where is she?” the old man asked, walking up the stairs.

  “Down the hall,” Mary answered. “Last bedroom on the left.”

  The old man darted past her, and Luis joined her on the porch, still catching his breath. “Did James come back yet?”

  “No, he’s not with you?” Zi looked out into the darkness, but saw nothing.

  “We got separated,” Luis answered. “Where’s Jake?”

  “Out back,” Zi answered.

  “Thanks.”

  Luis left, and Zi stood alone on the porch, glancing down the darkened dirt road where Luis had come, hoping that James would soon follow.

  22

  James lost consciousness twice during the ride back, and each time he woke from the horse’s gyrating motions, he forgot where he was going. But the animal had found its way back to the road, somehow using that as a way to guide them home. Each time he woke, James stroked the animal’s mane, whispering his thanks.

  The final time James woke up, he managed to retain his consciousness all the way back to the ranch, breaking the animal into a full sprint down the dirt road, praying that Luis had made it back with Nolan without incident.

  James didn’t pull back on the reins until he was only a few feet from the front steps of his house and then slid his exhausted body down the saddle.

  Before James even made it to the stairs, Luis bust through the door, coming down to help him into the house.

  “He’s already set up in the room,” Luis answered.

  “Is Mary—” .

  “She’s still alive,” Luis answered.

  By the time James made it to the bedroom, he could barely stand on his own. He found Mary and Jake together and dropped to his knees. But while his son looked fine, Mary’s face was pale and she was still unconscious.

  Nolan picked up his black bag and started organizing his tools.

  “Is it too late?” James asked.

  “She’ll need a blood transfusion,” Nolan answered, looking only at his tools and not the man still on his knees holding his son. “Do you know her blood type?”

  “Yes,” James answered. “I’m a match.”

  “Good, does anyone here know how to draw blood?” Nolan asked. “I don’t have enough time to do that and prep her for surgery.”

  “I can.”

  James turned to find Zi in the doorway.

  “Good,” Nolan said, then fished out a glass jar and extended it toward Zi, who took it. “Wash it, sterilize it, and then fill it up.”

  Zi took the items and disappeared while James and Jake remained by Mary’s bedside. Still holding onto his son, James stood and then grabbed Mary’s hand. It was cold and lifeless, and he feared that he had already lost her.

  “It’s best if you leave now,” Nolan said, dropping his usual cordial tone.

  James stared down at his son, whose eyes had watered, his lower lip trembling as he walked to Mary’s bedside and delicately brushed the hair from her forehead.

  “I love you, Mom,” Jake said. “And I’ll be right here waiting to take care of you when you wake up. I promise.” He kissed her cheek and then sprinted out of the room.

  James still had hold of her hand, and he gave it a reassuring squeeze, the way he always did whenever she had been nervous about something. And while there were a million things that he wanted to say, James only reminded her of the promise that they’d made to each other all of those years ago when they were married. “All the way. No matter what.” He bent down and kissed her forehead, his lips lingering on her skin.

  James left Nolan to
his work, and he found Zi waiting for him just outside of the door.

  “We can do it in the kitchen,” James said.

  Zi pulled up a pair of chairs for them, working the rubber tubing into the proper spots to funnel the blood into the container, and then dabbed at the crook of James’s forearm to sterilize the area. James looked away when she finally stuck the needle into the flesh.

  “You didn’t strike me as the squeamish type,” Zi said, giving the tube a few flicks to make sure that the blood was flowing.

  James exhaled and then glanced at the jar where his blood was currently being collected. He stared at it, transfixed, unsure of why he couldn’t stop staring at it, and then it suddenly dawned on him.

  “It’s the same color,” James said.

  Zi frowned, shaking her head, looking at the jar. “What do you mean?”

  When James realized that he’d spoken aloud, he shook his head. “Nothing.” But he couldn’t look away from the jar slowly filling with blood. Blood the same color as the man he’d killed outside of the bank.

  Blood the same color as the rivers he saw running red in the streets of San Antonio. That claret splashed over asphalt and concrete and clothes. Some of it shiny, some of it dried, some of it still slick and warm from the summer sun.

  And all of that blood came from different people from different religions and different beliefs, different ethnicities. But everyone’s blood was the same color.

  “James,” Zi said, her voice softly pulling him from the daze that he’d fallen into watching the blood drip into the jar. “I need to talk to you about something.”

  James pinched his eyebrows together. He was exhausted.

  Zi rubbed her hands together nervously. “I heard something when I was helping Jake get the house ready.”

  James leaned forward, careful not to pull the needle from his arm and splash what little blood he had left onto the floor. “What?”

  “It’s probably nothing, just nervous chatter, but…” Zi pulled her lips into her mouth, struggling to finally spit it out. “Stevie and Maya were talking about stealing and then leaving.” She lifted her gaze to meet James’s eyes and leaned back, almost as if she thought she might be guilty of association because of what she had heard.