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

by J. J. Holden

  With a straight face, Jaz said, “Are you sure we can handle two things? That’s totally more than one thing.”

  Cassy ignored the jest. “Spy out Free Republic strengths and weaknesses, and keep a journal of it for when you get back. That’s the first thing.”

  “And the second thing?” Choony asked. “Assuming we can keep track of two things.”

  Cassy smiled. “Try to set up trade relations between them and the Confederation. Especially aim for trade deals with the Clan, since you are Clanners, but deals for the Confederation, too, will strengthen the whole alliance that keeps us all safe.”

  Jaz nodded. “Awesome. We’re much less likely to get shot at on this trip, since they’re mostly friendly to us anyway. I’m down with that. Getting shot at sucks.”

  Cassy knew very well how badly getting shot at ‘sucked.’ She said, “Other than the ever-present threat of bandits, however, or one of the few remaining Empire loyalist guerrillas, you don’t have anything to worry about.”

  Jaz nodded, though whether in agreement or just acceptance, Cassy couldn’t tell. Jaz said, “I don’t think Empire guerrillas will bother us too much. Their hatred is saved up for the Free Republic. We just need to stay out of their way is all.”

  “So when do we leave?” Choony said, rolling his head around, stretching his neck. “Sleeping on a bed is giving me cricks in my neck.”

  Cassy grinned. “I’d like you to leave in an hour. Your wagon is getting packed and restocked even as we speak. If you don’t see Frank and them before you go, I’ll tell them you said goodbye, but I want you to leave quickly. You need to get well past Harrisburg before dusk. They weren’t truly part of the Empire before they fell, but you know our history with them.”

  “Too bad Liz Town spared some of them. Those Harrisburg peeps deserve to be rockstars.”

  Cassy didn’t know what that meant, but Jaz’s tone seemed opposite to what the word meant to Cassy. “Yes… rockstars. Absolutely.”

  Jaz let out a short giggle and smirked. “You don’t know what that means, do you?”

  Cassy’s face lit into a friendly grin. “Nope, no idea. But whatever it means, you still need to be moving shortly. And watch out for invaders. We’ve had a couple skirmishes with them, but mostly up north around Lebanon. Just be careful.”

  “We will, Mom,” Jaz said.

  Choony elbowed Jaz lightly. “We will be delighted to get moving again, Cassy. Thanks for giving us this mission. I know you have a lot of people you could have chosen.”

  Cassy nodded. “Yeah, but I wanted my best out there. I need people I trust implicitly. That would be you two dweebs.”

  Jaz’s expression became completely neutral, and in a monotone voice, she said, “No one says ‘dweeb’ anymore, Cassy. That’s almost as old as, like, ‘poindexter’.”

  Cassy smiled and said, “Just be safe.” She turned to walk out. As she reached the door, she turned and added, “Oh, by the way, you’ll be happy to know that, in addition to the usual pemmican, we loaded you up with jerky, some saltpork, more flour, even a bottle of dried yeast. And salt, pepper, and a ton of dried herbs. At least your pemmican can be spruced up a bit, this time.”

  Choony looked at Jaz and groaned. “Fat and powdered meat. Yum.”

  * * *

  1800 HOURS - ZERO DAY +367

  Frank awoke in the deep darkness of the underground bunker’s closed-off, unlit barracks wing. “Hrmph,” he grunted. Sitting up, he smacked his forehead on the bars of the bunk above him. Grimacing, he called out Michael’s name, but there was only silence. That man slept light as a feather, so if he had been in there, he would have responded. Frank figured he must have already gotten up and left.

  Slowly, Frank felt his way toward the hanging curtain that served as a room divider, faintly lit around the edges by the LED bulbs in the main chamber. At least Ethan was up. Frank made it to the curtain and drew it aside, squinting against the light. His throat felt as dry as toast. “Ethan,” he croaked, “got anything to drink? Where’s Michael?”

  “Over here,” said Michael’s voice from the bunker’s couch. “Good morning, sleeping beauty.”

  Ethan got up and poured a cup of water, then handed it to Frank, who drank it eagerly.

  He felt the scum of sleeping too long wash away. His throat hurt a little as the water hit it, then felt much better. “Ahh. Thanks, Ethan. Michael, have you filled him in yet?”

  Michael nodded. “Yeah, the basics. He just got done radioing Liz Town and the other radio-equipped groups.”

  “Good,” Frank replied. “We don’t know when those new troops will arrive, but it’ll be soon. We have a couple weeks at most, I imagine, before we start getting reports from the Free Republic about Houle’s forces attacking.”

  Michael said, “I believe it’ll be mixed troops, Houle’s and the Empire’s. He’ll use his people and theirs to crack open the defenders, and the Empire’s people to garrison what he’s taken. By the time he gets to the Confederation—assuming the Free Republic doesn’t stop him first—he’ll be without most or all of his Empire goons.”

  Frank took another gulp of water, then said, “Maybe. We can’t count on that, though.”

  The door hissed open, and Frank turned to look. Cassy stepped through the door and closed it behind her.

  “Morning, Cassy,” Frank said.

  She smiled and waved at each in turn. “Good evening, actually. It’s six o’clock now. They’re serving chow, but I figured you two would be sleeping off your marathon session. Find anything out?”

  Michael said, “We did. General Houle intends to send units into the Empire’s rebelling regions, using both goons and his troops to bring them back under the Empire’s heel. Then Houle will advance through Harrisburg and into the Confederation. We got a glimpse at the size of Houle’s territory while we went through the liberated intel out of Harrisburg. It’s impressive.”

  Cassy’s jaw dropped. “What? When will they be here?”

  “A couple weeks.”

  “Dammit, Frank. Why didn’t you tell me that earlier?”

  Frank frowned. “Excuse me? Why would I? You’d find out in tonight’s council meeting, which you sit in on. Houle’s soldiers aren’t going to be rampaging through Clanholme tomorrow, or anything. And I needed sleep, first.”

  Cassy closed her eyes, clenching her jaw. She took two deep breaths, and when she spoke again, Frank thought she sounded calmer. “I’m sorry for yelling. You had no way of knowing.”

  “Knowing what?” Frank asked, voice rising in pitch a little. This didn’t bode well…

  “Frank, I sent Choony and Jaz west on a Confed mission into the Free Republic. They left before lunch.”

  Frank turned to Ethan. “Get Liz Town on the radio. Tell them to turn Jaz and Choony back. We can’t let them be in the middle of what’s coming.”

  Ethan nodded once and turned toward the radio. Frank heard him relay the message. Then he heard their reply: “Sorry, Charlie Two. They passed through a couple hours ago.”

  Frank clenched his fist. “Shit. Ask them to send out riders to find them, dammit!”

  Ethan did, and after a long pause, Liz Town came back on the radio. “Riders sent. I don’t know if we’ll find them, but we’ll do our best, Clanholme. Liz Town out.”

  The radio turned silent. Frank looked around the room, but it was as silent as the radio.

  * * *

  1130 HOURS - ZERO DAY +369

  Carl walked along the wall’s catwalk with Sunshine walking in front of him. As they went, they made notes on the condition of the walls bordering Sewer Rat territory, and exchanged ideas for improvements.

  It was awkward being near her again. They hadn’t really spoken since she had walked away from him, days ago that seemed like months. Between writing notes for the wall, his mind churned trying to think of things to say that might open her up to him again. He had been thinking about her far more than he ought to have been, given their circumstances. Nothing had
come to mind, however, and she still seemed stiff and cold toward him. Maybe the timing would be better later.

  “So we have two weeks, at minimum?” Sunshine asked over her shoulder as they walked.

  “Yes. Probably more. The intel Clanholme sent us suggests the Mountain will work with the Empire in recovering rebellious Free Republic territories before they get around to attacking the Confederation.”

  There was a long silence, and the walked on together another dozen yards before Sunshine said, “Did the riders ever catch up to the Clan scouts that came through the day before yesterday?”

  Carl smiled wanly. “How did you hear about that?”

  “Carl, did they ever find them?” Her voice was stern.

  “No, nor could we keep riding all over Free Republic territory forever. The searchers returned this morning empty handed.”

  Sunshine shook her head.

  Carl continued, “But the scouts did report disturbing news. They heard rumors in the Free Republic about waves of people heading their way from out west. Refugees. I guess the Mountain is moving forward with their plans already, but just haven’t reached us yet. The report said there is fighting near Springfield, Illinois—the wackos that the Empire couldn’t crush on their own, before—and near Uniontown, Pennsylvania.”

  Sunshine whistled. “That’s fast. Uniontown is the Free Republic’s only real stronghold in the entire southwest of their territory, right? If that falls…”

  “When it falls,” Carl corrected, “then the only serious opposition between Uniontown and Harrisburg is Johnstown and maybe Chambersburg. Rumor has it the Free Rep is moving as many units toward Johnstown as they can spare. Uniontown was left on its own, but they’re buying everyone else time to prepare. They’re Liz Town brave, those Uniontown people.”

  “God help them. It could have fallen by now for all we know. That news has to be two days old at the least.”

  Yeah, Carl thought, God help them. They’d need it. And God help the Confederation, when their turn came. He didn’t think for a minute that the Free Republic was organized well enough yet to stop the Mountain’s forces. “Pray for the Clanholme scouts too, Jaz and Choony. I know them both from my time as envoy to the Clan. They’re good people, and they’re out there alone somewhere.”

  “I guess we’d better also get ready to deal with refugees. They’ll be coming. Some we can arm and use. But most, we’ll have to turn away at the bridge.”

  “Cold, and true.” Carl knew she was right, but didn’t have to like it. They couldn’t handle a tsunami of refugees, some of whom could be sympathizers. The ones they turned away at the bridge would probably stay there, praying for a miracle but finding only Mountain bullets when Houle’s forces arrived behind them.

  Oh well, Carl thought coldly, at least we had a nice vacation from all this crap. Now back to the cold realities of survival. Would that ever end? He doubted it. Not in his lifetime.

  - 10 -

  0515 HOURS - ZERO DAY +374

  MULTIPLE EXPLOSIONS SOUNDED, instantly waking Cassy. She jumped out of bed and bolted down the stairs, grabbing the rifle she left leaning against the wall next to the door, and rushed outside. Others were already emerging as well. Abruptly, the guard tower’s air raid siren went off, deafening her. She saw Michael emerge from his earthbag dome with his M4 rifle in hand, rubbing his eyes before he sprinted toward the guard tower.

  Cassy watched as Michael climbed the tower ladder in record time. He spoke briefly with the guard, then slid down the ladder without bothering to use the wooden rungs, his feet gliding down the outside bars to control his speed.

  Cassy ran toward him, and was there when he landed.

  Michael’s eyes went wide when he spotted her and he shouted over the air horn, “Sabotage. Guard says two fireballs east of the pond.”

  A flood of rage washed over her. On the other side of the eastern fish pond, two of the battlecars had been stored under camouflage netting. Those would be the two easiest to find. “Two fireballs? The cars!”

  Cassy and Michael ran east, bypassed the pond, and once they got to the other side, the shore foliage no longer blocked their view. The faint glow of the explosions’ aftermath clearly marked where the two cars once were hidden.

  Just then, the air raid siren went silent, thankfully. Cassy knew everyone was in defensive positions or getting into place now. The Clan’s response to the sirens was drilled into every member, and each person had a post to get to. In this case, the threat was probably long gone already, though.

  Cassy started to walk toward the nearest glowing car, but Michael blocked her with his arm. “Wait for reinforcements, Chancellor,” he said.

  Cassy didn’t want to wait, but he was right. If the attackers were nearby, she’d have made a delicious, easy target. During a minute that seemed infinitely long, five Clanners gathered with her and Michael. “Now we can go,” Michael said.

  They approached the first car slowly, cautiously, with two Clanners in front, she and Michael in the middle, a Clanner to either side, and two in the rear. Cassy felt her heart beating in her ears.

  When they arrived at the battlecar, an up-armored Ford F250 and a beast of a vehicle, she stopped and stared, grinding her teeth. The frame wasn’t a total loss, but the tires were on fire. They threw short, bright orange flames and billowed thick, noxious smoke. The wire screening that replaced the windshields were shredded by the blast, but the worst damage was to the gasinator assembly in back. It was a heap of glowing twisted metal.

  “The other will be the same,” Michael said, his voice monotone from tension.

  Cassy let out a long breath. “That leaves us only ten, including the flatbeds. But it could have been much worse.”

  Michael grunted. “Still bad. It’ll take us weeks at least to rebuild those battlecars. Maybe longer. We’re down to eighty percent of our battlecar force without firing a shot. It’s a big blow.”

  Cassy only nodded. They approached the car to get a better look. A Clanner nudged past her with a fire extinguisher—the Clan kept them in abundance all over the farm—and sprayed down the tires, starting at the base and moving up. Then he sprayed down the gasinator, though the damage was already done. Maybe they could salvage some of the components. Whoever had done this, they weren’t Clan. Everyone in the Clan probably knew the location of a couple other vehicles besides these two, if not more.

  Michael said, “I don’t see tracks. They covered them up.” He picked up a small bit of wreckage from the truck bed and peered at it in the dim, dawning light.

  “What is it?” Cassy asked, eyes narrowed as she looked at it the way she might a copperhead snake.

  “Radio detonator, I think. They used small, easily shapecharged explosives and radio detonators. They moved in and out without being seen by the guard in the tower, who have night vision goggles. And they left no tracks.”

  “What are you saying, Michael?”

  He shrugged. “Odds are good these were SpecOps.” When Cassy looked at him blankly, he explained, “Special Operations. Special forces.”

  A Clanner beside her let out a low whistle. “Should we be afraid?”

  “Yes,” Michael said with emphasis. “Cassy, find Frank and let him know what’s going on.”

  “What are you going to do?” Cassy didn’t like the feeling she had about all this.

  “I’m gathering some Marines and soldiers with experience like mine, and we’re going hunting. We can’t just leave snakes in the sleeping bag, right? I need to dig them out and kill them.”

  Michael turned and jogged away, leaving Cassy feeling very nervous.

  “Okay, troops. You’re with me,” Cassy said, then turned around to go find Frank. For the moment, she didn’t give the guard tower the all-clear, feeling better with her people in place and ready.

  Breakfast would be late, today.

  * * *

  Choony awoke from a light sleep with the first rays of sun just starting to hit the tarp lean-to as it rose ove
r the crest of the small hill adjacent to camp. Jaz was stirring as well. It had been a long night as the two of them had been woken up repeatedly throughout the night by the sounds of movement on the nearby road.

  He stepped out of the lean-to and stretched his back, which felt tight and ached. He saw a few sporadic people on the road, heading east. They all seemed to be loaded like mules, carrying all they could. “What the heck?” he muttered.

  Jaz stepped up beside him, groggily rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “What’s going on?” she said, the words half-jumbled.

  “I’m not sure. But I guess we know what kept waking us up last night. I’m going to go talk to one of them. You get the rifle and stay back, just in case. I don’t think they’ll be a problem, though.”

  Choony took a deep breath and steeled himself, then strode toward the road. He intercepted a man and a woman walking together. “Good morning. I’m just a traveler, but since last night people have been walking down this road, like you two. What happened?”

  The man looked at Choony with eyes red-rimmed from fatigue. “You must be from back east,” he said. “The Mountain King and the Midwest Republic are taking issue with our new freedom.”

  The woman chimed in then, saying “They got cars that work. Some light tanks. The Mountain troops have lots of gear. It’s a bloodbath.”

  The man nodded, his expression somber. “We’re hoping to find refuge back east. Maybe Liz Town. Maybe a new Clanhold. The Mountain King isn’t showing a lot of mercy. You’d best head back east as well.”

  “Thanks for the advice, mister. Uniontown? How are they?”

  The woman replied, “They fell at about three o’clock this morning. Everyone’s falling back.”

  Choony frowned, but quickly reminded himself that things were as they were. Deal with what is. “What about Donegal?”

  The man grunted. “I don’t imagine Donegal will hold. We’re headed to Lawson Heights. That’s the Free Republic’s main westerly base now, so we’ll go through there before moving on to head farther east. It’s about a day’s hard walk north of here.”