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

by J. J. Holden

  Alright, he decided, it was time to go talk to the Clan leader directly and work this out with another sharp mind to offer input. It was time to find Frank.

  * * *

  For evening chow, Carl went to his favorite food truck. Ever since Sunshine had more or less completely retreated from him, the place reminded him of her, which only added to the joint’s charm. He wasn’t yet done beating himself up over how badly he had handled what could have been an awesome relationship.

  Beef cost more than he cared to spend on a meal. He ordered a simple meal that was made with perfectly seasoned rat meat. The food truck people raised their own rats in a warehouse, and added rats the neighborhood kids caught after quarantining them. The owners guaranteed the rats’ health, making it one of the safest places to eat besides his own kitchen—and he was a terrible cook.

  He polished off half of his meal when a shadow fell over his shoulder. He turned his head, hand sliding toward his pistol by reflex, but then saw that it was two Sewer Rats who approached him. “Good to see you.”

  “You too, Alpha. Do you have a minute?” asked the taller of the two.

  “Sure. What’s up? Take a seat.”

  “Thanks,” the tall one said, and they both sat opposite Carl. “There’s a problem, and we figured you’d want to know about it. Our Alpha has disappeared.”

  Carl was stunned. Sunshine… He felt a moment of near-panic, but squashed that quickly. “When was she last seen, where was she going, and what happened?”

  “We don’t know. She went to lunch and never came back. We went to her quarters at Rat headquarters and found her room all busted up. There was a little blood, but we think she was alive when she left. Or when she was taken. It looked like a hell of a fight happened there.”

  “What of her guards? I know your HQ has guards.” Carl frowned. This was bad, even if the Sewer Rats Band would go on without her. He didn’t want them to have to.

  “They don’t go into her quarters, you see, so they were posted at the front and rear exits. They say they saw and heard nothing, and didn’t see anyone enter or leave the building or her quarters. The whole Band is scouring our territory for her, but nothing so far.”

  Carl’s lips pursed and his jaw clenched. “Thank you for telling me. I promise you, the Timber Wolves will do everything we can to help look for her. Do you have any idea where she might have been taken?”

  The question was met with silence. So, that would be a no… “I didn’t think so, or you’d have gone and got her. Alright. Thanks for telling me. I swear to you that if she’s alive, we’ll find her one way or another. You have my word that I won’t rest until then.”

  The two Rats nodded. “I expected as much. The Sewer Rats are grateful, Alpha.”

  They left hastily and Carl stared after them, food forgotten. Sunshine was gone and definitely in danger, if she still lived. She was his friend, one of the few true ones, and she was more than just a friend to him. Also, she was an Alpha and for her to get seized right now, while war loomed all around, couldn’t be just a coincidence.

  Well, someone had just kicked over a damned hornet’s nest, he fumed. Whoever had taken her, they were about to learn what it meant to be hunted by the Wolf pack… He’d lean on every one of the Timber Wolf contacts in other Bands and among the refugees, and he’d turn over Heaven and Earth to find Sunshine.

  - 16 -

  0330 HOURS - ZERO DAY +383

  CHOONY AWOKE SUDDENLY, and a sense of dread flooded through him, his heart hammering in his ears. He opened his eyes wide, like saucers, but it was pitch black inside and he could see nothing. Jaz was still curled up next to him, but he felt her stiffen and her breathing change. She was waking up, too, he realized. Neither said anything, frozen in place until he heard the faint skrit sound of Jaz’s hand sliding under her pillow. She always slept with a pistol there.

  Abruptly, there was an explosion of noise and activity, and Choony was so startled that his chest hurt. Immediately, rough hands grabbed him by both arms and wrenched him to his feet. He heard Jaz try to shout, but her voice was muffled mid-shout, as though someone had clamped their hand over her mouth.

  Choony saw two faint, green lights from tiny LEDs bobbing around near Jaz at about the height of a person’s head. He felt something move around his wrists and there was a zipping noise as they zip-tied him. No doubt they had secured Jaz, as well.

  The green lights vanished, and Choony was shoved face first onto the bed. He felt Jaz beside him. There was a flood of light that half-blinded him, and he squinted against it. He could see four men in the room, all wearing tight-fitting black clothing. They had NVGs pushed up onto their heads—he had been right about that. Their faces were painted in dark green and black camouflage paint. They appeared to be unarmed, but he assumed they had pistols or knives on them.

  The shortest of the four men wasn’t the smallest. He was muscular, and moved like a bodybuilder, not gracefully. He said, “Would you look at that. The clanmark, just like they said. The rumors are true.” He grabbed Choony’s chin and pulled his face toward him, painfully, and said, “What is the Clan doing in Johnstown?”

  Choony felt a moment of irritation that they automatically addressed him, not Jaz, but sexism from his captors was the least of his problems. “Running home,” he said, not bothering to deny his Clan origins, which were inked onto his arm for anyone to see. “We came out to make trade deals, but then you attacked this Free Republic.”

  The man laughed. “We’re not invaders. This is our home. We had it good under the Midwest Republic, and you damn Confederation people fucked it all up. You gave the traitors guns and food, then set them loose on us. You should see what they did to my neighbors.”

  Jaz, lying on the bed, looked at the man with eyes wide in fear. Voice pleading, she said, “Not us. We didn’t supply anyone. We’re just travelers.”

  “Well, I feel bad for you two. We’re going to kill you traitors and then impale you at the east gate, a warning for the rest of you Confederation fuckers.”

  Choony nodded. Tied up, there was little he could do. He felt his heart beating faster, but he was more calm now than when he had been awoken so abruptly. “I face my fate, then. May the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangwa protect us, and may you find forgiveness in your soul for the Karma you bring on yourself.”

  “Shut the fuck up, zipperhead,” the man said. “I’m fine with this. We do what we gotta do, that’s all.” He turned to face another man, who stood beside the bed and Choony. “Blue, take Red and get these traitors to their feet. We got about a two-minute window to get the hell out of here.”

  Choony was yanked to his feet, as was Jaz. The burly leader and the man beside him went to the bedroom door, then the leader poked his head into the hallway. He looked both ways and said, “Clear. Move out.”

  He and the fourth man left the room. Choony saw they both moved like oxen, not smoothly at all. These weren’t soldiers, he realized—soldiers would have cut their throats while they slept. Even so, if he and Jaz were taken from the room, they’d be killed in minutes. He felt calm at the thought of dying, but Jaz’s eyes were wide with fear and rage. She was most definitely not okay with the situation.

  Fine—he would try to save them, though he knew they’d most likely die in the attempt anyway. “Now!” Choony cried as he thrust his right foot back and upwards. It landed hard in his captor’s gut, and he heard the satisfying oomf of the wind being knocked out of the man.

  Jaz’s captor was close behind her, left hand on her left elbow, right hand on her other hip, one finger under the hem of her panties. She threw her head back hard, connecting with the lecher’s nose. It shattered, and blood sprayed over his face.

  Choony turned around and put his bound hands on the back of his doubled-over captor’s head, then raised his knee as hard as he could into the man’s face. He felt a crunch, and the man cried out in pain.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw Jaz raise her bound hands over her head, th
en she brought them down hard into her stomach, elbows slightly spread like chicken wings. Her ziptie broke with an audible snap from the force and flew off as though it was a mere toy. She spun and planted her knee in her bleeding captor’s crotch, then slammed her clasped hands over the back of his head, and he fell to the floor face down.

  Choony swung his elbow, smashing it into the side of his now-bloody captor’s head. The man collapsed to the floor with a cry of pain.

  Jaz dove onto the bed and pulled her pistol from under the pillow. She rolled over and sat up, holding her gun before her, pointed toward the door. Their leader and the fourth man tried to come back in through the doorway at a run, but they were big men and crunched together in the doorway. Jaz fired four rapid shots in just over a second, and both men fell in the doorway.

  Choony’s man scrambled into a crouching position and launched forward, colliding hard with Choony’s midsection. It knocked the wind out of him, and the two flew backward across the small room until Choony struck the wall behind him.

  Jaz turned her pistol on her own former captor, and while he struggled up to his hands and knees, she fired two rounds into his back. He collapsed to the floor again. She swung her pistol toward Choony’s attacker.

  It was too late, though. With the wind knocked out of him, Choony’s captor had easily gotten him into an arm-lock, then pulled him hard to get him between himself and Jaz. He deftly slid a small Mora knife from its sheath on a lanyard around his neck and held the blade to Choony’s throat.

  Choony felt his left arm burn like fire, like a red-hot poker had been jammed into his shoulder, and the arm lock kept a tortuous pressure on the joint. He wondered if it was dislocated, but otherwise his mind was blank. Events were happening, and he registered them, but his mind just spun uselessly. Everything he thought of wouldn’t work. So this was it…

  Things were what they were, he reminded himself, and prepared to leave this lifetime. He’d miss Jaz, though.

  “Put the gun down, woman, or I’ll slit your boyfriend’s throat.” Choony felt the man’s breath on the back of his neck, hot and humid.

  Jaz’s face was expressionless, and her pistol didn’t waver. “You were going to kill him anyway. There’s no way you leave this room alive.” She sidestepped to place herself more fully between him and the door.

  “Don’t fuck with me,” he snapped, and Choony heard panic rising in his voice. “I’ll cut him, bitch. Believe it.”

  There was a groan from the bulky man who had been their leader, lying in the doorway. Jaz kept her eyes locked on Choony’s captor while her barrel glided toward their leader. Two shots, bang bang. Jaz didn’t even blink at the pistol’s deafening roar inside room’s enclosed space. She swung the barrel back toward Choony’s man, and her expression never changed.

  Jaz said, “I’m giving you one chance to live through this, then. Let that man go and walk out of here, or—”

  “Or what?” he shouted. “I’m going to kill him!”

  “Mister, you only leave here feet first unless you let him go. Your choice.”

  Choony saw an opportunity. “You’re companions are gone. There is no one who can say what happened here—no one but you. You get to live. You can leave with your Karma increased.”

  “Fuck Karma, dude. Fine, lady, but we do this my way. Step aside, and when I’m at the doorway, I’ll release him.”

  “Nope. I told you. Unless you release him, you leave here feet first. That’s it. That’s the offer.”

  There was silence for two seconds, three heartbeats, and an infinity of moments. Choony made his peace with dying, mentally thanking Buddha for a fine life. Jaz would live, even if he died, and he accepted that trade-off.

  Surprisingly, his captor said, “Fine. I walk, you both live. I don’t know who you are, but I’m only in this so my family can eat. We had to run to live, when the traitors took over. It ain’t personal.”

  Jaz locked eyes with Choony, and he nodded at her. He saw that she kept her finger tight on the trigger, and the barrel didn’t shake or waver. She was now calm and cool, in battle mode, which might just keep him alive. Part of him rejoiced, and part of him decided he had a lot of meditating to do if he survived this encounter.

  The man gave Choony a rough shove toward the bed. Choony tried to use his arms to break his fall, but his left arm refused to hold his weight and he collapsed onto the mattress, groaning and gripping his useless shoulder.

  The lone surviving attacker’s voice trembled as he said, “I’m leaving now.”

  As Choony rolled over, he was startled by two deafening reports—Jaz fired twice into the man’s chest. He collapsed to his knees with a look of surprise on his face, then toppled forward to the floor and moved no more.

  “You said he could live,” Choony said, keeping his tone even. He concentrated on bringing his heartbeat down.

  “Sorry, Choony. I can’t have him running off and getting reinforcements for payback. We gotta leave, like right now, before someone else makes a try for us. Pack up.”

  Choony grabbed his backpack and began stuffing his things into it, while Jaz slid into her day clothes. He felt a bit dizzy.

  “Let’s go.” Choony forced himself to smile. As he stepped over the doorway corpses, he said a prayer for the dead, but chose not to burden Jaz with that knowledge by praying aloud.

  In minutes, they were on the road, fleeing again. It was good to feel the comfortable, well-worn wagon’s seat cushions under him.

  Jaz said, “This whole place feels like death. Like, they know death is coming for them, but instead of facing it, they’re falling apart and turning on each other.”

  Choony nodded and guided their wagon onto the road heading northeast out of Johnstown. Jaz was right—the rebel army was indeed falling apart as it fled, surrendering to fear and hopelessness, as though such emotions changed their fate. It was chaos, and he was glad to leave the town behind.

  * * *

  Ethan looked around Cassy’s living room as he ate standing at the kitchen island. Her house was pretty shabby now, more than a year after the end of the world. It was packed with people daily, and the wear and tear showed. Plus, all the decorations were long gone, replaced by useful stuff and more stuff, and maps, and shelves with stuff. Ethan remembered an old TV commercial—too much good stuff—then couldn’t get that damn word out of his head. Stuff… Blah.

  Cassy mercifully interrupted his little OCD cycle by coming downstairs again, this time more fully dressed. “Well, good morning again. Sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out. I wasn’t awake enough.”

  “I have something pretty significant to talk to you about. I already hit Frank up with this, and he said to talk to you, too. He’d support whatever I decide, but only after I talk to you.”

  Cassy’s eyes narrowed a bit and she said cautiously, “Me? He’s the Clan leader.”

  “It affects more than just the Clan.”

  Cassy handed Ethan a cup of coffee, with fresh cream and crystallized tree sap for sugar.

  Ethan said, “You know that I talk to the 20s, and you know they turned out to be Houle’s personal, off-the-books intel people.”

  Cassy nodded. “I guess I better sit down,” she said with a sigh, and hopped onto one of the two stools on the island’s living room side, facing him. “So what’s going on now?”

  Ethan frowned, and slid his coffee cup around on the counter, eyes locked on the cup. He was having a hard time looking at her. After a long pause, he steeled himself and decided it was best to just rip off the bandage. “So, the 20s want me to leave Clanholme, never to return. I haven’t been as dedicated and loyal to them as they would like, so they want me out. But instead of just killing me, and probably anyone near me at the time, they will allow me to go into exile.”

  Cassy stared at Ethan intently for a long moment. It made him uncomfortable, and he redoubled his attentions to his coffee cup, unable to meet her gaze.

  Finally, she said, “So what you want to know is wh
ether the Clan and the Confederation are willing to fight over you, knowing it’ll lead to conflict with Houle and the Mountain?”

  Ethan nodded. “More or less. Things can get a lot worse than they are now, you know. They have Predator drones. They have some fighters out of Camp Pendleton. They aren’t sending their full strength against the Free Republic right now, and look at how effective their support to the Empire has been… The Republic is falling, and we all know it.”

  “True, but they aren’t the Confederation. We aren’t putting our weight behind them the way Houle is with the Empire. We’re only arming the FreeRep people who still have any fight left in ’em, then sending them back into the lion’s den to get slaughtered. Every Mountain soldier they take out is one less for us to eventually deal with.”

  Ethan looked up at her, nodding. So far, she was right. “But the Mountain will get real serious about us, real fast, if I don’t leave. Hell, they have the ability to simply bomb Clanholme itself. And who knows if they still have Tomahawk missiles, or how many jet fighters they really have. We’ve only had to deal with light armored vehicles, so far. I don’t know how we’d take out an Abrams tank.”

  “With C-4, of which we have a lot. And with pit traps. I’m not supposed to tell anyone this, but we looted a less well-known military armory. The Clan has cached a stockpile of mines, both claymore and anti-tank. We scrounged cases of those shoulder-fired, single-use bazooka things. We’re good.”

  “They aren’t bazookas.”

  “Seriously, look at me.” She waited until he looked up at her again, then said, “We’re already at war with the Mountain. They took the Gap. You think if we appease them, they’ll go away? When has appeasement ever worked? Soon they’ll have a shiny new base that can strike anywhere in the Confederation quickly, and the military folks do always seem to want a chance to use their shiny toys. You staying or going isn’t going to change a damn thing in the long run.”