Surviving Chaos

by Ryan Westfield

  Surviving Chaos

  A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller - The EMP Book 4

  Ryan Westfield

  Copyright © 2018 by Ryan Westfield

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Any resemblance to real persons living or dead is purely coincidental. All characters and events are products of the author’s imagination.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  About Ryan Westfield

  Mailing List

  1

  Max

  Max was tired, hungry, and weak. His leg was killing him. At least his face didn’t hurt as much as it had. He’d walked for three days straight, sleeping in the trees along the side of the road by night. It would have been better to walk by night, but he’d left his flashlight with Mandy. The batteries wouldn’t last much longer anyway.

  Max had finished the meager amount of food he’d brought with him yesterday. And it hadn’t been much to begin with.

  Max had woken early, before the sunrise, unable to get back to sleep from the hunger and the cold ground. So he’d waited until there was enough light to walk by, and then he’d started.

  Would he ever find a town? They were really out there, away from everything. If he’d been unlucky and headed in the wrong direction, he could walk for weeks before he found anything. And at that point, it’d be likely that he’d first run into a car driving by. And who knew who’d be in the car and whether they’d be friendly or dangerous.

  Max hadn’t seen a single car since leaving the Bronco. Nothing at all in the air but a chill and the sounds of small animals in the woods. Nevertheless, Max kept feeling for his Glock, making sure it was there. It was a reassuring presence at his side. But hopefully he wouldn’t have to use it. There’d been enough violence and death already. Not that’d he hesitate to use it if he had to.

  His mind turned to Chad’s death. Chad had somehow gotten addicted to his pills again. He just couldn’t keep away. Who knew if it was something biological, some tweak in his brain chemistry, that made him more susceptible to chemical addiction than most. Or if it was simply the fact that Chad couldn’t handle life as it came. Max was inclined to go with the second option.

  Up ahead, there was a sign, announcing arrival to a town named Antrim, Pennsylvania, population 804.

  Max almost couldn’t believe it. It’d been three days since he’d seen anything man-made except for the road and the things he’d brought with him.

  So they were still in Pennsylvania, not West Virginia as they’d suspected.

  With the town name, they’d be able to figure out where they were once Max got back to Mandy and the others.

  If he made it back.

  The sign meant that gas was close. Unless it was like Albion and completely deserted, with no cars left.

  Max was close to his goal.

  He wasn’t going to make any mistakes this time. He’d made too many mistakes before, and allowed others to make them as well.

  He needed to get a tighter handle on everything. He needed to operate with caution.

  The problem they’d run into in the past was that there wasn’t always enough time to make the best decision. And they hadn’t been in the best state of mind, either. For instance, Max should have trusted his gut and never gone to the compound with Kara. But they’d been hungry and miserable and desperate. It’d simply been too tempting.

  Max continued down the road, hoping to find another way to enter the town. Coming down the main drag probably wasn’t the best option if he didn’t want to get discovered.

  But there weren’t any side streets to take.

  The first building came into view about two hundred feet down the road.

  Off to the right, there was an ancient cemetery. Max looked at the old broken headstones as he walked past. The engraved names sounded old, and the dates went back two hundred years.

  A cemetery was a luxury for a civilized world. There wouldn’t be any cemeteries now. Not for a long while, until people got organized again. If that ever happened, that is. Now, the dead would be mostly left where they lay. Or buried in shallow graves, if the earth wasn’t too cold. Max thought of Chad and wondered what had happened to him. The people at the compound would have had to dispose of his body somehow. Maybe they’d burned it, or simply left it outside for whatever wild animals or stray dogs there were.

  Max wondered briefly what would happen to his own body. Given the circumstances, it wasn’t too unlikely that at some point he’d be shot and killed. Or stabbed and killed. Who knew. Maybe his body would just lay there.

  Max shook the thoughts out of his head. It wasn’t any good thinking about things like that. It didn’t help him. And he couldn’t really give a damn about what happened to his dead body. The thing now was to focus on living. On surviving.

  There wasn’t anyone on the main street of the town. Max approached the first building cautiously, hugging the shoulder of the road as he limped along, figuring it would make him a little less visible than walking down the dead center of the road.

  He came to the first building, which was white, with fading paint. One story. Some kind of general store. Max flattened himself against the outer wall, staying still. He listened, trying to figure out if there was anyone around.

  So far, he heard nothing.

  There probably wasn’t much point in going into the store to look for supplies. For one thing, what he really needed was gas. And the store was probably already looted.

  But Max’s stomach was still sending out shooting pains of hunger. He felt weak. If he had some food in his stomach, he’d be better at doing whatever it was he’d need to do to get the gas.

  There also might be gas in the store. Unlikely, but Max had to check.

  Around the back of the store, Max found an alley with a dumpster full of broken down cardboard boxes. It’d never been taken away, and now it never would. That cardboard would sit there until it decomposed on its own.

  The backdoor was locked. But it wasn’t a thick steel door. It was wood, with a lock that didn’t appear too solid.

  Max waited for a moment, making sure there were still no sounds. If he kicked the door, and someone was around, they’d undoubtedly hear him.

  It was a risk.

  Max didn’t think about it too much.

  He lifted his good leg and kicked the door, aiming at a spot near the handle.

  Three more kicks, and something in the lock disengaged, breaking.

  The door opened easily, and Max moved into the dark passageway that led to the store.

  He had his gun out, and he moved cautiously. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

  Max was mostly past the point of fear. But if there was something he feared, it was the sound o
f a gun cocking in the darkness. Or a voice telling him to lay down his own gun.

  Of course, those were almost benign options compared to simply being shot. There very well could be someone in there with Max. And he’d never know it until it was too late.

  Max’s heart rate was elevated, but not much. His body had been running on adrenaline for so long now that it didn’t have much more to give.

  Max passed the cash register, which was wide open, no cash left in the drawer. Max shook his head in disbelief. Cash wasn’t going to do anyone any good.

  The main room of the store was a complete disaster. It looked like a mob had entered and taken everything, overturning all the shelves in the process.

  There was almost nothing left, but Max looked anyway. He felt like an animal, scavenging for scraps of food. But that was reality. That was what he had to do.

  In a corner, underneath a piece of an overturned metal shelf, Max found a jumbo packet of Mounds bars. He got them out, opened them up. They were completely smushed, but he couldn’t have cared less. He knew he couldn’t eat them all at once. His body wouldn’t be able to assimilate such a great influx of sugar.

  He got the first one in his mouth, and the taste was so intense, having not had sugar in so long, that it was a real struggle not to eat the rest of them right then and there.

  It wasn’t like a Mounds bar would provide him with the nutrition he needed. The sugar would give him a short burst of energy. He felt it coming on now, strength returning to his body. The trick would be to pace himself, eating them whenever he felt his energy starting to flag again.

  There wasn’t any gas in the store. So Max moved out, heading into the center of the town. He stayed off the main street, walking in the alleys behind the few stores that existed. When the alley didn’t connect from one store to the other, Max had to climb over chain-link fencing.

  Max found himself behind a small post office that sat on the main intersection of the town. There wasn’t a soul in sight.

  There weren’t any cars either.

  There was a faint sound coming from down the cross street, though. Max couldn’t tell what it was, but if he had to guess, it sounded like the dull roar of a crowd of people. That would be strange, given that the town seemed abandoned.

  There wasn’t a gas station in sight. But Max wasn’t going to give up. There’d be side streets that had normal homes on them. There was bound to be a car somewhere.

  Of course, he’d have to look through the sheds for a container. All he had with him was the hose. The containers they’d had had been shot through with bullets, and Max hadn’t been able to patch them up with the materials they’d had available.

  Max turned down the cross street. The street sign bore the name “Duncan Boulevard,” but it wasn’t like any boulevard he’d seen. It was just a little meandering street, with small houses lining it.

  As Max walked, the sound got louder and louder.

  It became apparent soon enough that there was a crowd of people. Somewhere close.

  Crowds of people meant bad news. They meant danger, chaos, and the potential for violence.

  But if Max didn’t continue towards the source of the noise, he’d be giving up. In the other direction, there weren’t houses lining the road. That meant no chance to find any gas.

  If there was a crowd up there, it likely meant that the occupants of the houses weren’t inside. Meaning Max had an opportunity to go snooping for gas in their sheds.

  It was risky. But it was the best option.

  Max moved through the backyards. The first house had no car in the driveway and no shed.

  Max hated doing this. He hated being a thief, sneaking around. But he thought of Georgia, Mandy, and the kids. He was doing it for them. And himself.

  If he could find a working car, maybe it’d be better to just steal it and drive it back. It meant getting back to his friends faster, and moving them to a safer location. It also meant more gas, because if Max only brought a couple gallons back to the campsite, they wouldn’t be able to get very far in the Bronco.

  The third house had a shed, but there was nothing inside but old rusty rakes and shovels. Max moved from house to house as quickly as he could, checking each shed and driveway. He had his Glock out the entire time.

  By the time Max had checked about ten houses, he was still empty handed. But now he could hear the full roar of the crowd up ahead.

  He needed to see what was going on. He moved to the front yard of one of the houses, staying out of sight as best he could.

  Down the road a little ways, a crowd of a few hundred people had gathered. Some were shouting, and many stood watching silently.

  There was a clearing off to the side of the road, where the central portion of the crowd was, but there were so many people that they’d spilled into the road.

  In the center of the clearing there was a rudimentary wooden gallows. A crude structure of wood, elevated so that Max could easily see it despite how dense the crowd was.

  Four men, unshaven, stood on an elevated wooden platform.

  The fifth, a man with a long beard, had the noose around his neck. His feet were still on the wooden crate that supported them.

  The crowd was cheering, jeering, and booing. The message was clear. They wanted the man hanged as soon as possible.

  2

  Mandy

  Mandy shivered in the cold early morning air. The sun had risen, and the fire from the night before was nothing but smoldering ashes. They’d split the night into two shifts, and Mandy had taken the last one. But she’d barely slept when it was her turn to sleep, and her body felt heavy and weak with fatigue.

  They weren’t getting enough food. Most of what they did have was going to Georgia so she could recover. The lack of food wasn’t helping Mandy’s fatigue, or the headache she was developing.

  It had been three days since Max had left. Mandy had watched him as he walked away, his limp diminished but still obvious. That image was burned into Mandy’s memory, and she wondered if she’d ever see him again.

  What would they do without Max? Would they be able to survive?

  They’d have to just keep going. That’d always been Max’s advice anyway, to keep pushing on, no matter how bad things seemed.

  The Ford Bronco sat there, sunlight glinting off its dented chrome pieces and its mirrors. Mandy had grown to hate the sight of it. Aside from providing what was certainly uncomfortable shelter for Georgia, it was mostly useless. Until they got some gas, that was.

  Since Max had left, only a single car had driven down the road. The road was out of sight, and they’d only heard it, speeding along, the engine roaring. They’d all waited, holding their breath, clutching the guns that had ammo. But nothing had happened. The car just kept driving.

  They hadn’t seen anyone else. Wherever they were, they were out of the way. Significantly out of the way.

  That was a good thing. The bad thing was they didn’t have any idea where they were.

  Mandy had been poring over the maps ever since they’d gotten there. She was pretty good with maps, but there wasn’t much to go on in terms of their surroundings. There weren’t any markers on the nearby road. And they’d all been in such a panic fleeing the compound that they hadn’t paid any attention to where they were going. Mandy had been driving in a panic, Max had been removing the bullet from Georgia’s back, and Georgia herself was certainly in no condition to pay attention to road signs.

  But even though she had a good reason to not know where she was, Mandy still cursed herself for her own short-sightedness. If only she could remember some landmark or road sign, she might have been able to find their position on the map. But no matter how many times she tried to replay the memories in her head, nothing came to her.

  When Max got back, he’d be able to tell them where they were. Hopefully. That was if he got back, though.

  Mandy sighed.

  James and Sadie were asleep near what had become the campfire “pit.” They
were unmoving forms, covered by all the clothing and fabric they had available.

  One of them stirred, and a head popped up from underneath an old sweatshirt that was used as a blanket.

  It was James, with his hair all wild. It’d grown longer since the EMP. It wasn’t like they’d had time for haircuts.

  Or shaving. James was still a teenager, and he couldn’t really grow a full beard. But he had plenty of growth on his face, making him look older than when Mandy had first met him.

  “Everything OK?” muttered James, sleepily, as he walked over to where Mandy stood at the edge of the camp area.

  “Yeah, still no sign of anyone.” It was understood that this meant that Max hadn’t returned as well. “Your mom’s doing fine. I checked on her half an hour ago. She was asleep.”

  “I don’t think she’s been sleeping that well, so that’s good.”

  “Yeah, she was up a few times in the night. The cold’s hard on her.”

  “At least she’s in the Bronco, I guess.”

  “Doesn’t do that much, though.”

  James nodded. “So what’s the plan for today?”

  “We’re low on water. I was going to go get some, and check on the traps.”

  “You look tired. Why don’t I go?”

  Mandy shook her head. “You stay here and keep an eye on your sister and mom.”

  “You sure?”

  Mandy nodded. “I need to walk a little. Clear my head, and all that.”

  James didn’t say anything for a moment. This was the way conversations had been going—slowly. The four of them really hadn’t talked much in the last few days. Short and brief conversations were the norm. They were too exhausted and hungry to chat. And they were worried about what would come next.