EMP Retaliation (Dark New World, Book 6) - An EMP Survival Story

by J. J. Holden

  Amber examined him closely for a minute, but he kept his expression steady. Finally, she gave him a nod and smiled. “Cool. I came down to grab your tray. Figured you’d forget. Sorry I missed our breakfast time. I had a chore that ran long.”

  Her smiles were the prettiest ones he had ever seen, and she was just so beautiful like that… He felt a growing urge, but she had only come down for his tray. He tried to think of unsexy things.

  He needn’t have bothered because it turned out that his tray wasn’t the only thing she wanted from him that morning. The next half hour was almost enough to take his mind off his chat with Watcher One.

  * * *

  Carl was grateful for the cheap, open-walled pavilion that blocked out some of the brutal afternoon sun. He sent out two more runners to deliver orders to platoon commanders where they were still fighting the Harrisburg survivors deeper in the city. The battle’s tempo had slowed and he had spent the last hour getting the medical bays supplied with freshly recovered wounded fighters for triage and treatment. Some of those wounded had to wait in the field for over two hours before they could be recovered. For some of the dead now coming in, it had been too late.

  Thankfully, with the fighting winding down all over the city there would be fewer casualties coming back. The troops he had diverted to find and retrieve the wounded were staying out a bit longer before returning, or so it felt. Every Band had fought, even Diamondback, and they all had their share of casualties, although the numbers overall had not been that bad.

  As Speaker Mary Ann’s right hand, Carl didn’t have the luxury of focusing on his own Timber Wolves bandmates, but he had made sure to keep a couple of runners for his own use so he could stay updated on his own wounded. Rank had its privileges.

  One of his runners was sprinting toward him, panting, and came to a halt in front of him. “Alpha… We have a prisoner you’ll want to see,” he managed to say in between gasps for air.

  “I can’t leave this post. Bring them here.”

  Carl watched as the runner jogged away, head down, shoulders high up and tense. That man was about to drop, yet he kept going. A good Liz Town fighter.

  Carl went back to the map of the city and his many notes. The reports coming in made it clear that the Harrisburg defenses all over the city were crumbling, and they had begun to fall back toward the I-81 bridge over the Susquehanna River. Harrisburg may have lost the vast railroad and shipping depots just east of the bridge, but they still had a beachhead on this side of the Susquehanna. Everything from North 6th Street westward still belonged to Harrisburg’s defenders, and all those retreating units were linking up in that small zone. It allowed their defenses to stiffen considerably as their troop densities increased in the area.

  “Runner. Take this order to the battalion commander at the rail depot. I need them to stop pressing the attack. They need to just keep the enemy hemmed up until we can figure out something suitably nasty to do to them. We’re going to take unacceptable casualties if we try to push them across the river in a frontal assault. Tell him I want to keep the enemy engaged so they can’t regroup and counterattack, but he must not assault their positions.”

  The runner nodded, took the paper, and sprinted away.

  A commotion caught Carl’s attention. Turning his head, he saw four fighters manhandling two Harrisburg men, herding them toward him. Those would be the ones the first runner had told him about. The prisoners wore civilian clothes, nothing special, so what was important about them?

  When they came close, one of the Lizzie guards said, “Alpha, these two aren’t Harrisburg, and they aren’t Empire. Guess who.”

  “I don’t have the time to play guessing games. What did you find?” Carl raised an eyebrow at them.

  “They’re from the Mountain. We found them in a hidden room at the back of what used to be a grocery store. A grenade took out part of a wall that hid their back room.”

  “What else you got? Any intel?”

  “Yes, a lot. We found maps, copies of orders, and a stack of files. They had a cache of tradable goods, as well as a shortwave radio. The unit had a weird box, which we think encrypted their speech into some pattern language.”

  “Why do you think that?” Carl asked, genuinely curious about the box.

  “They received a transmission while we were getting them ziptied. We heard a lot of bleeps and bloops from the radio, and a robotic voice came out the box half a second later. Like, text-to-speech.”

  Carl looked again at the two prisoners. Both men looked ordinary in almost every way. Maybe more fit than most, but the one thing that really stood out was that both men were clean shaven. Shaving had become less common in general, and to see two shaved men in Harrisburg was odd.

  Actually, once he looked more closely, he saw that their hair—now growing out, but still short—was a lot longer on top than on the sides, and the transition between the two lengths was abrupt. It was possible they had once worn their hair in a fade or high-and-tight, and that it had had grown out. That showed the two men could have been in the military.

  And then he saw their boots. Those were Belleville’s “Tactical Research” line of combat boots. U.S. Army-approved, Army-issue. The distinctive “ribbing” pattern down the sides meant they were the real deal, not a knockoff. Michael had taught him that during a conversation in Carl’s time as the Liz Town envoy to Clanholme. Carl had asked about Michael’s boots and then got more of an earful than he cared to about the subject of military footwear.

  Carl looked at his four fighters, who stood by patiently. “I’ve seen enough. Nicely done. I expect a report from everyone involved, okay? In the meantime, secure these two men and keep them separated. I want them held under continual guard. Also, we need to get everything from that room you found them in and take it to the HQ in Liz Town so we can get this all figured out. Dismissed.”

  Those two prisoners would require special interrogation. Questioning of the sort Michael did well and didn’t talk about. Carl realized he’d have to arrange for the Mountain’s agents to be delivered to Clanholme along with the intel they had captured.

  The presence of agents from NORAD gave Carl a lot to think about. For one thing, the Empire had stopped sending supplies to Harrisburg via the river. He had heard the Mountain supported the Empire, but Harrisburg never joined the Empire officially. They had taken to accommodating the Empire’s every demand, however, so they might as well have been members.

  But if Harrisburg had joined the Empire, it would explain why the Mountain had agents here as well, despite the town’s being so close to the Confederation. Or maybe because it was so close. How long had those two been stationed there? Long enough to be set up in a secret room with radios and other gear. They hadn’t just arrived yesterday, that was certain.

  “Alpha,” said a voice behind Carl, interrupting his internal debate.

  He turned and saw a Timber Wolf fighter, who looked flushed and was breathing heavily. A runner, then. “Yes, what is it?”

  “Sir, a report from the company commander at the front, near the bridge.” The messenger held out a note, folded in half and then half again, and sealed with wax.

  Carl took the note, carefully cracked the wax seal, and opened it. He quickly read the report of troop movement on the far side of the bridge. The report was clear: hundreds of armed fighters amassing quietly.

  “Runners,” he shouted as he continued to read. “Go to your assigned officers and advise them that the enemy has reinforcements gathering on the far side of the river. They need to brace themselves at the bridge and get ready to receive an assault, once the two enemy groups join together. Our battalion at the rail yard needs to be on standby to deploy, reinforcing wherever they’re needed. Dismissed.”

  Carl watched the runners sprint away and clenched his jaw. The mass of new troops could only be from the Empire finally coming to Harrisburg’s rescue. The intel reports Carl had heard said there weren’t a lot of Empire goons available to go on the offensi
ve, but apparently they felt Harrisburg was more urgent than keeping a tight grip on their own civilians. The Empire might have some uprisings if they weren’t quick about this, Carl mused with a faint smile. That would be nice. Too bad it meant a new army for his people to fight.

  He turned to his duty officer, the woman who would replace him in the command chain if he bit the big one. “You have command until you hear from me. I need to get eyes on the situation.”

  She nodded, and Carl grabbed his binoculars off the table then headed toward the nearby water tower. He had posted a sniper up there because it gave a good view of everything between the command post and the river, but it was a long way up to the tower’s top.

  By the time Carl reached the top, he was breathing heavily. The binoculars around his neck had made it twice as difficult, banging against rungs and getting wrapped around the occasional hook or other jutting bits of metal. But he had made it. He scooted on his butt along the catwalk until he had a good view of the bridge.

  He put the binoculars to his eyes and began a slow, methodical search of the entire area and both ends of the bridge, looking for anything unusual that might indicate the gathering enemy force’s current location. It only took a minute to find them. They hid behind dead cars that had been pushed off the road long ago. They hid behind bushes. They hid on the back side of the few buildings, and under the bridge on the far side. He counted for a while, but there were too many. He lost track at about one hundred, and there looked to be about twice that in total from what he had seen. It was a big force. Liz Town could contain two hundred more enemy troops, but it would be costly.

  Carl considered the options. He could retreat quickly and in good order right now, saving his numbers, or he could order a push through the weaker defenders on this side, taking heavy casualties, and then engage the other force when they crossed that bridge. Cassy, perhaps, would have retreated, but that wasn’t his way. He had no intention of getting pushed out of Harrisburg, only to have to attack it again later. He pulled out his radio, a tiny one good only for a very short range. “HQ, this is Alpha.”

  “Copy, Alpha. Standing by for orders,” said the woman he had left in charge down there.

  Carl noted with satisfaction that her voice was steady and confident on the radio. That would be useful. “Urgent, urgent. All units—repeat, all units—are to assault the bridgehead. Push them back, but do not cross. Just secure the bridgehead. How do you copy?”

  “Good copy, Alpha. Doing it now.” Carl heard no tension in the woman’s voice, or maybe it just always sounded tight.

  Ten minutes later, he heard Lizzie unit commander whistles from afar, shrill and very faint, signaling the assault. Then a quick pop, pop here and there, which quickly became the sound of a full-fledged battle.

  That’s when he saw the Empire goons surging across the bridge from the far side. Damn, it was too soon. They must have realized the danger, and were moving in right away instead of waiting to be fully assembled. Liz Town would still win this fight, albeit with terrible casualties. If he ordered a retreat, now that the goons were joining the battle too soon, casualties would be just as high yet would leave the enemy in control of the city, so retreat wasn’t even an option anymore. It was a rock and a hard place, but Carl had faith that his wild, wily Liz Town veteran fighters would win.

  Surprisingly, he saw the Empire troops begin to fire when they were only halfway across the bridge. Terrible fire discipline—they’d burn through their ammunition quickly, which was good…

  Amazingly, they kept up a heavy fire. That made no sense. They couldn’t possibly even see more than a few of the Liz Town defenders from there. He scanned the Harrisburg line to see how they were reacting to sudden reinforcements. No doubt they would get suddenly brave.

  Through his binoculars, however, what he saw was far different from what he expected. The Harrisburg troops went prone in droves, while most of the others turned around, getting ready to make a break for safety on the far side of the bridge. Why would they do that?

  No, wait… they were firing toward the bridge’s far end. Carl was confused, but then it hit him—the goons were firing at the Harrisburg fighters, striking hard in their rear, and the defenders were firing back at them. He was still trying to make sense of what he saw when his own forces began vaulting over their makeshift defenses around the bridgehead. They engaged the totally disorganized Harrisburg forces at close range, some even in hand-to-hand combat.

  Carl scrambled down the tower as fast as he could, heedless of the binoculars around his neck that bounced off rungs and smacked him in the ribs. He’d have bruises later, but he reached the ground in record time.

  Then he sprinted toward the HQ. His motorbike was there in case he had to bug out. Instead, he was going to use it to get down into the action. He kicked it into life and then revved the engine, racing down street after street, weaving around dead cars. In minutes, he was at the front.

  Except there was no front. It had utterly collapsed, and all that remained was to mop up a few remaining knots of resistance. Ahead, he saw Empire goons and Liz Town fighters… mingling and shaking hands. What the hell was going on?

  When he got close enough, he dumped the motorbike and strode forward like a tornado. “Who’s in command?” he bellowed at the nearest Liz Town trooper.

  To his left, a woman standing among a knot of Liz Town fighters raised her head, spotted him and shouted back, “I’m the C.O. Name’s Major Breen. And you are?”

  Carl nodded. “I’m the Alpha in command, Liz Town. Care to explain this? I’m confused.”

  Breen smiled. “I’m sure you are, sir. But let me just say that the Free Republic sends its greetings. We’d like to come to an arrangement with the Confederation and figured, what better way to get on good terms than by delivering Harrisburg? You beat us to the punch, but I’m glad we could help. Between the two of us, we cut them down too fast for them to do much harm to either of our forces.”

  That was a total surprise. Carl’s jaw almost dropped. The Free Republic? Clearly, the Confederation’s schemes had worked. The Empire was breaking apart. “We welcome the Free Republic. Your help was indeed timely, and you saved us a lot of casualties.”

  Breen nodded, and sucked her front teeth, making a tsk noise. “Yep, that’s the size of it. But we’ve hated these Harrisburg bastards for a long time now. Before the Middies brought them into the fold with us, we suffered their raids just as much as you did.”

  “Middies, huh? We call the Midwest Republic ‘the Empire.’ Okay, whoever your envoy is going to be, I’ll give them a ride to Clanholme. The chancellor is going to want to talk to them.”

  The woman nodded and turned to one of her fighters, who then jogged away toward the bridge to get whoever Breen had in mind. “One envoy, coming right up.”

  Carl grinned and took stock of the major. She was tough, he could tell, and had that look of confidence soldiers got after surviving a few battles. Her troops seemed to respect her. Yes, so far he liked this new Free Republic unit commander. “I can’t wait to meet them.”

  - 7 -

  2115 HOURS - ZERO DAY +349

  FRANK HOBBLED TOWARD the Complex and randomly stopped people to ask whether they had seen Ethan. None had. He wondered if Ethan might be in the bunker, though he had already checked there once.

  Frank spotted Michael heading toward the outdoor kitchen, where mounds of snacks were being prepared as a treat for that evening. Frank shouted Michael’s name and his head whipped toward the sound, searching for the shouter.

  When Michael saw him, his face lit into a smile. Michael came to him and said, “Quite the party starting tonight for no reason, eh?”

  Frank returned the smile. “It seems to turn into a party any time we make snacks. Maybe it’s the sugar in the Brittle Bits,” he said, referring to Grandma Mandy’s homemade candy recipe, modified for the ingredients they had available.

  “Or maybe,” Michael’s face turned overly-dramatic, “it’s t
he hard cider that seems to come out any time we make snacks. Woo woo, it’s a mystery.”

  “You’re terrible at making ghost noises, Michael.”

  “Hurtful.”

  Frank chuckled, then asked, “Have you seen Ethan?”

  Michael pointed to the earthbag circle that ran from dome to dome around the Complex. “He’s sitting on the wall, on the east end somewhere. He’s with Amber.”

  “Thanks,” Frank said with a smile and headed toward the Complex’s far side.

  In a couple of minutes, he found Ethan and Amber, along with her daughter. Kaitlyn was adorable, and had recently turned eight years old. It brought a good, healthy feeling to Frank’s heart to see Kaitlyn sitting on Ethan’s knee, grinning and playing with him, happy once again. She hadn’t been very happy since her dad, Jed, had died almost a year prior. Frank had known Kaitlyn since he’d met her dad, back when she was almost still a baby. She had even called him “Uncle Frank.”

  He hated to interrupt Ethan’s time with them, but in a way this was the best time to ask him what needed asking. As the festivities grew louder, the mood was upbeat, and Ethan was finally out of the bunker where he couldn’t easily make excuses to run away from the conversation. Frank shook his head, clearing that last uncharitable thought. Ethan was a good man, he just wasn’t one who liked conflict. Frank hobbled up toward them and when he got closer, Ethan spotted him and waved. Frank closed the distance.

  “Hey Ethan. Amber.” Frank sat next to Ethan on the wall and let out a contented sigh, thankful to be off his one foot. It usually ached terribly from overuse.

  Amber smiled in greeting. “Frank-o. How’s the foot?”

  “Good enough to find Ethan up here. It would be nice to have two, though.”

  “Kaitlyn and I were about to go get snacks. Want anything?”

  When Frank shook his head, she walked toward the outdoor kitchen hand-in-hand with her girl, leaving Ethan and Frank as alone as they could be with a rising party going on all around them.