Surviving Chaos

by Ryan Westfield

  There’d been so many threats, so many near-misses, that it was only a matter of time before he and Cynthia met their end.

  They were dead men walking, as the expression went.

  But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t fight tooth and nail to stay alive as long as he could. If there was just the slightest chance that they could live through this all, then he’d do everything in his power to get there, to get to the end. Wherever that was.

  They’d been on the move for ten minutes, and they hadn’t seen anyone, or heard anything. Suddenly, a thought popped into his head.

  “Cynthia,” said John, speaking quietly, knowing that his voice had the potential to travel far in the woods. “You brought the radio, right?”

  “The radio?” said Cynthia, sniffling.

  He turned to her, stopping in his tracks. She was wiping away some tears.

  “The radio,” said John impatiently. “Dale’s radio. Remember?”

  Cynthia nodded. “I remember. I left it behind.”

  “You did what?”

  “I left it there. I was about to ask you, but you said we had to get a move on it. It was so heavy. And big. You said we had to leave things behind.”

  For the first time, John felt angry at Cynthia.

  He knew it wasn’t her fault. In fact, the radio wasn’t crucial to their immediate survival.

  But it might be essential for surviving in the long term.

  Maybe John wasn’t admitting it to himself, but the radio represented something more than just survival.

  The radio was the only link he had with his brother Max. The radio was the only way to find him.

  Of course, it was a long shot. Impossibly long. As far as John knew, Max didn’t have a radio. He’d used the radio at the compound, and there was no reason to think he had one of his own.

  Even if he did, the odds were very low that they’d somehow find each other on at the same time.

  But were they really that low?

  All it’d take was the two of them spending a few hours at night at the same time, surfing the channels looking for someone to contact.

  They’d gone years essentially estranged. But that was before the EMP. That was when family hadn’t mattered as much as it mattered now.

  John needed some connection. Not to his past. But to his future. And to someone with his own blood.

  Cynthia seemed to know he was angry. “I’m sorry, John. I thought I was making the right decision.”

  John nodded. “It’s not your fault,” he said. “But we need that radio. I’m going back.”

  “Are you crazy?”

  “Maybe,” said John, his gaze shifting to the direction from which they’d come, where the unknown awaited them.

  “I thought we were trying to get out of here as fast as possible. Kiki’s disappearance doesn’t bode well for us.”

  “No,” said John. “No, it doesn’t. But we need that radio.”

  “Just keep in mind,” said Cynthia, “that if you go back, I’m going back with you.”

  John paused for a moment. Maybe it was the wrong decision, but he said, “Come on, we’re heading back.”

  They turned around, and walked in swift silence.

  Walking quickly felt good. For now. It kept the chill at bay. But soon enough, with those packs, they’d be exhausted once again.

  A sound came at them. A high-pitched whirring. Unmistakably an engine.

  It was still somewhat distant.

  “What’s that?” said Cynthia, stopped dead in her tracks. Her head scanned the woods around them. Her finger was on the trigger of her gun.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Sounds like an engine. Is it a car?”

  “It’s too high-pitched.”

  John didn’t have any idea what it was. There’d been so much to deal with already today, his brain didn’t seem to be working properly. It was a normal effect of being overwhelmed. There was only so much the brain could process.

  “A motorcycle?” said Cynthia.

  Then it hit John. She was right. Partially.

  “A dirt bike,” said John. “Quiet, we’ve got to listen.”

  They fell silent. The sound was only getting louder. Only getting closer.

  In the silence of the woods, John found that there were actually two or more sounds that were blending together. It was hard to distinguish between them, but he was fairly sure there was more than one dirt bike.

  The sound was only getting louder.

  “We’ve got to hide,” said John, tugging Cynthia’s arm, pulling her towards a denser cluster of trees.

  24

  Mandy

  The small creek hadn’t been that far away from the “campsite,” the place where James had shot the deer.

  Mandy hadn’t wanted to admit it, but she’d been feeling incredibly weak from hunger. In fact, once she’d gotten to the creek, she had to give serious thought to whether or not she could carry the water back to the camp.

  She’d carried Georgia, so she could carry some water. Just a little bit farther. She’d be able to do it.

  That was what she was telling herself, at least.

  Her mind was fuzzy, a little muddled. She knew it was the effect produced by extreme hunger, malnutrition, and intense exertion. She was prone to making mistakes.

  And she’d just realized hers, on the way back to camp with the water.

  They already had water.

  Plenty of water.

  Mandy felt like an idiot.

  Worse than that, she felt defeated. Realizing her mistake had instantly sapped her will to continue. It’d slashed that drive that had kept her alive through the weeks since the EMP.

  She sat down, slumping against a tree, letting the water jugs fall to the ground beside her.

  That was when she heard the noise. The unmistakable sound of a car engine. Loud and rumbly. Probably some kind of truck.

  She wasn’t yet far from the creek. She could still see it.

  There weren’t many leaves on the trees. She could see through their skeletonized forms.

  She saw the truck mere seconds after she heard it.

  She barely had time to scramble behind the tree, getting onto the opposite side of the trunk so that she wouldn’t be visible.

  Mandy didn’t dare peek around the trunk. But she listened, as carefully as she could.

  The engine shut off. One door opened, and slammed closed. Then another.

  So there were two people.

  But she didn’t yet know if they were friends or foes.

  Based on past experience, Mandy was going to go with foes. She’d wondered, often, as she’d walked, how it was that so many of the people they’d encountered had harbored dark intentions. Why so many of them had wanted to hurt her and the others. And why so many of them had been merely looking out for themselves, able to do whatever it took, hurting whoever they had to.

  The answer was simple. People were desperate. The instinct for survival was strong. Incredibly strong. And when that instinct was in full force, social concepts like morality went right out the window.

  Mandy was holding her handgun tightly. She had her finger on the trigger. She held it pointed to the sky, ready to aim it. Ready to fire.

  If she had to.

  Hopefully they just wouldn’t see her. After all, she was completely hidden behind the tree trunk.

  Hopefully, the thing she had to worry most about was that there were others in this area. Max and Mandy, when they’d talked about it, had hoped that the area wasn’t heavily populated. And here was direct evidence to the contrary.

  “Hey, give me a hand, would you?”

  It was a male voice. Gruff. Probably middle-aged. He sounded like he was a smoker.

  “Get ‘em yourself.”

  This voice was even gruffer. Sounded older, too.

  Mandy couldn’t quite get a make on them. A voice could tell a lot about a person. But these voices were hard to pin down.

  Maybe they were
hunters. They sounded like they might be outdoor types.

  But there was something off.

  Mandy listened as they undid the back of their pickup. Presumably they were heading to the creek just like she was, looking for water.

  Mandy tried to keep her breathing quiet, even though it was unlikely they’d be able to hear her.

  She should be fine. She had to repeat it to herself. She was so close to them. She was essentially invisible. If they were just getting water, there’d be no reason to walk over to the other side of the creek, where Mandy was.

  If she got up and tried to leave, they’d undoubtedly see her.

  “No, don’t tip the bucket like that. You’ll never get enough water.”

  “Damnit, I’m doing the best I can.”

  “Well, it’s not good enough.”

  There was a roughness to the way they spoke that made Mandy’s heart race harder. The more she listened to them talking, the more they didn’t sound like nice men. They cursed at each other, insulting each other, while doing what sounded like a very simple task.

  The more Mandy heard them talk, the more she knew she didn’t want to be seen by them.

  If it came down to it, Mandy would fight.

  “All right, that about does it, I guess.”

  “Are you kidding? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “It’s fine. It’s enough for the plants.”

  The plants? What kind of plants were they talking about? Maybe they were growing food.

  “That’s not anywhere near enough. You’re just lazy. You’ve been smoking too much of the product.”

  “You’re one to talk. And who cares anyway? It’s not like there’s anyone to sell to.”

  “Haven’t you been listening to me?”

  “Why should I?”

  “Because I know what the hell I’m talking about. This isn’t anything big. So the power’s out? So what? It’ll come back on. And when it does, people will be stressed the hell out. And what’ll they want?”

  “Weed.”

  “Yeah, weed. So you have been listening to me then.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Well listen now. You’ve got to remember the plan. We’re going to be rich. All we have to do is keep growing. All the other growers will have been freaking the hell out. They won’t have any product. We’ll be the only ones.”

  “But come on, dude, we’ve already got a ton stored in the RV.”

  “Yeah, we’ve got a lot. But not enough. Don’t you understand? We’re talking about real money here. This is the real deal. The big haul. We’re going to be retired after this. And I’m not talking the Jersey shore. I’m talking Maui. Hawaii, Taiwan. Have you ever seen those Taiwanese girls?”

  “I dunno, man. How the hell would I know?”

  “You’d know ‘em if you saw ‘em. Hottest things on the damn planet, that’s what.”

  So they were growing marijuana? And apparently in complete denial about the EMP.

  Mandy had once read an article about people who operated clandestine marijuana farms on state land. Often they set up their farms deep in state parks, where they were unlikely to be found. Pretty much all state land worked though, supposed Mandy.

  These weren’t the types of people she wanted to run into. They’d likely do whatever it took to protect their grow operation, especially given the fact that they were under the delusion they’d eventually get rich off their work.

  Suddenly, it hit her.

  Her huge mistake.

  She’d left the water jugs out there, by the creek.

  She looked frantically around her, thinking that maybe she’d taken them with her when the truck had first shown up.

  But they were nowhere to be found.

  Mandy could have screamed. She couldn’t believe she’d made such a basic error.

  “Hey, man, what the hell are you doing bringing those little jugs out here? We need a ton of water for the plants. Don’t you know anything, you idiot?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Those little jugs there. Enough for drinking water maybe, but not all our plants.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? I didn’t bring those.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “Swear on my mother, man.”

  “Well, shit.”

  “What’s it mean?”

  “It means we’ve got company.”

  “You mean for dinner?”

  “No, idiot. I mean there’s someone else here. Or there was. Come on, get your gun out and help me look. The last thing we need is a witness. Or competition.”

  Mandy was terrified.

  But she kept it together. She knew what to do.

  They sounded like idiots. They were probably terrible shots. One of them sounded completely incompetent, and Mandy doubted he’d be a threat.

  The best thing to do would be to strike first.

  Mandy moved swiftly, exposing herself for just long enough to get a look at where they were.

  They were headed in her direction. They were both tall men. One looked like a stereotypical stoner. Tall and skinny, with long, dirty hair and a scraggly beard.

  The other had a bit of a belly on him. He was more squarely built, and had short hair and rimless glasses. He looked more like a banker than a pot farmer.

  Mandy aimed her gun at the big one. He seemed like he was the leader. His voice seemed to match his body, now that she saw him.

  Mandy squeezed the trigger. She felt the recoil.

  She’d missed. He didn’t fall, or scream out.

  Mandy ducked back behind the tree just in time. She heard a bullet hitting the other side of the trunk.

  The two men were shouting at each other.

  “Get Danny on it, asshole. He can’t hear the shots.”

  Danny? Who the hell was Danny? What were they talking about?

  Mandy moved swiftly, exposing herself to fire briefly. But she did it on the other side of the tree. Such a simple trick. And yet so effective.

  They were expecting her on the other side. She got off one shot before they saw her. They’d taken shelter behind trees as well. But she missed again. She wasn’t yet a good enough shot to hit very small targets, and they weren’t exposing much of their bodies at all.

  Her heart was pounding.

  But this wasn’t the end.

  She was going to fight. She’d take them out. The only advantage they had was the fact that there were two of them, compared to one of her.

  Her advantages? More determination. A stronger will to live. Not being stoned.

  Mandy heard the noise too late.

  Footsteps. Close by.

  Something pressed into the back of her head.

  Mandy didn’t dare to move.

  She knew it was the barrel of a gun.

  She waited, completely frozen. But no one spoke.

  Shouldn’t they tell her to raise her hands above her head? To drop her gun?

  Unless they were going to simply kill her right then and there.

  If that was the case, the should just get on with it. Better to just die quickly than to draw the whole thing out.

  Why didn’t they at least tell her what they were going to do?

  The silence was almost more terrifying than the gun that was pressing harder and harder into her skull. She felt the cold steel against her, and she closed her eyes, waiting for the end.

  “He got her!”

  “Danny did?”

  “Who else, moron?”

  “I didn’t hear a shot, though.”

  “Don’t you know Danny? He’d never shoot anyone unless he had to.”

  Mandy heard the footsteps of the two men approaching.

  So Danny, the guy they’d talked about, was the one with the gun against her skull. She should have been more careful. She should have taken the third man into consideration. But she’d assumed he wasn’t there, since she’d never heard them talk to Danny. And she’d never heard Danny s
ay anything.

  “Good work, Danny,” said one of them. Probably the tall skinny one.

  “He can’t hear you, asshole.”

  Mandy opened her eyes to see the two men in front of her, pointing their guns at her.

  The bigger one, who looked like a banker, was making signs at the man behind her. At first, it didn’t make sense.

  Then it hit Mandy. He was using sign language. The man who held the gun to her head must have been a deaf mute. That was the only explanation. That was why she hadn’t heard him talking, or the two others talking to him. They conversed with him in sign language and gestures, and nothing else.

  “All right, honey, drop the gun. You know the drill. Or at least you’ve heard it in movies.”

  Mandy laid her gun down carefully on the ground. There was nothing else to do. There was no way she could make a move in her own defense without receiving a bullet to the head.

  “What do we do with her? Shoot her?”

  “That’s what I was thinking, but I just got another idea.”

  “What?”

  “What if we put her to work?”

  “Put her to work?”

  “Yeah, your lazy ass is hard to get out of bed half the time. And you do a shit job and you know it.”

  “Come on, man, don’t be like that.”

  “Look, you’re still going to get your cut of the profits, but you’ll have someone else helping you. Why would you complain about that?”

  “I’d never looked at it that way,” said the skinny one.

  “Of course you hadn’t. You’re an idiot.”

  “Well, I don’t see the harm in it. But why wouldn’t she just escape?”

  “Come on, we’re not going to let her just have the run of the place. I’ve got some chains that’ll do nicely.”

  “Chain her up?”

  “What the hell do you think I meant?”

  “I’ll do whatever you want,” said Mandy, looking the bigger guy in the eye for the first time. “Just let me live. I’ll work all day. Whatever it takes.”

  The big guy chuckled. “See? She’s already agreeable to it. Come on, let’s get a move on it.”

  So she wasn’t going to be killed. But it’d be hard to escape from chains.

  Max would come for her. Probably with James.

  But it wouldn’t be easy to find her. Not if they were going to take her away in the truck. Who knew how far away their pot farm was.