by Harley Tate
Hope Survives
AFTER THE EMP BOOK NINE
Harley Tate
Copyright © 2019 by Harley Tate. Cover and internal design © by Harley Tate. Cover image copyright © Deposit Photos, 2019.
All rights reserved.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The use of stock photo images in this e-book in no way imply that the models depicted personally endorse, condone, or engage in the fictional conduct depicted herein, expressly or by implication. The person(s) depicted are models and are used for illustrative purposes only.
Contents
Hope Survives
300 Days Without Power
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
301 Days Without Power
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
302 Days Without Power
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
303 Days Without Power
Chapter 30
Acknowledgments
About Harley Tate
Hope Survives
A POST-APOCALYPTIC SURVIVAL THRILLER
If danger shows up uninvited, how far would you go to keep your family safe?
In the middle of a brutal Northern California winter, Walter Sloane cranks up a homemade radio anticipating nothing but static. When a commanding voice proclaims a new America is rising, Walter rushes to tell the others. He doesn’t know a much bigger problem is already at his door.
Can a new alliance survive the ultimate test?
Tracy Sloane is winding down a twenty-four hour shift guarding a pharmacy in the middle of town. When two strangers show up ready for battle, she barely makes it out alive. If she can’t convince the Jacobsons to do what’s right, their new alliance might be dead on arrival—literally.
The end of the world brings out the best and worst in all of us.
Faced with the prospect of war with a neighboring group and the threat of military intervention from afar, the Sloanes find themselves between a rock and a hard place. They’ll have to fight for their survival, their future, and their way of life. Every decision might be their last.
The EMP is only the beginning.
Hope Survives is book nine in the After the EMP series, a post-apocalyptic thriller series following ordinary people trying to survive after a geomagnetic storm destroys the nation’s power grid.
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300 Days Without Power
Chapter One
SILAS
Donner Summit Bridge
Outside Truckee, California
9:00 a.m.
Silas pulled into the empty observation point and killed the engine. The snow-covered roads were no match for the snowmobile, even with abandoned cars and looted tractor-trailers stalled out along Donner Pass. He reached into his pack and fished out his binoculars.
Donner Lake stretched in an east/west line below him and thanks to a steady wind at his back, the usual morning fog and clouds were nonexistent. He scanned the coastline with his naked eyes first, searching for the telltale rise of smoke from a chimney or the unexpected movement of a person against the snow.
Nothing.
He did the same with his binoculars, glassing the waterline and up into the mountains, coming to rest on the property the Cunningham clan now called home. Once Donner Lake Motor Court, the resort on the water had become so much more over the past nine months.
Gone were the tourists and the people incapable of surviving in this new world. In their place were enterprising compatriots bound together in a singular mission: to stay alive and rebuild by whatever means necessary.
Elias Cunningham, the leader of their group, had a singular vision. It had taken Silas a while to come to terms with his uncle’s radical approach, but after more than one run-in with looters and thieves who would kill as soon as trade, Silas saw the point.
Ensuring the family’s survival required more than just a small resort on the edge of a lake. Long-term living took resources only a town could provide. He exhaled and lowered the binoculars.
Donner Lake had been good to them up until now. Only two ways in, both secured by round-the-clock shifts of watchers. Plenty of coastline to fish. A lodge big enough to house most of their family with peripheral cabins close enough for the rest.
In the beginning, they had welcomed all comers. Most of their immediate family subscribed to the “shit happens” outlook on life, rallying together the second the grid collapsed. A few who hoped some ninny from the government would come save them held out for the first week or two. By then, Elias had already cleared the resort by whatever means necessary.
Silas spat in the snow as memories dragged bile up his throat. The hard part hadn’t lasted long. At the peak, their ranks swelled to fifty-five, all blood or marriage relations apart from Donnie’s girlfriend Maria who came with her own arsenal of AR-15s and a trunk full of ammo. Elias let her stay even without a wedding ring. But it had been a rough fall and winter. Deals were made that shouldn’t have been. Accidents happened and supplies were lost. Good people died.
Their ranks had shrunk to forty-three and Silas lost the only person who gave a damn about him since he was a kid: his father. Butch Cunningham had gone on a gun run and never come home. Neither had the arsenal of weapons he’d promised to deliver. Not knowing what happened to the man twisted Silas up for months, but the cold weather snapped him out of it.
He couldn’t putter around Donner Lake with idle hands and plenty of liquor. Elias was right; dominating the lake wasn’t sufficient. With two feet of snow on the ground, raids became dangerous and less frequent. Hunting became sporadic and fishing almost impossible.
Too many guys like Silas forced to sit around and wait while the temperatures hovered around freezing. With Elias’s vision, they would never be lazy again. A new town would rise out of the smoldering ashes of Truckee. One that would withstand anything nature or man could throw at it.
A modern-day fortress for the Cunninghams to own.
An engine rumbled in the distance and Silas turned, one hand resting on the rifle strap across his chest. A snowmobile rounded the curve and whipped into the observation area, parking alongside Silas with a flourish of ice flecks.
Beckett pulled off his helmet and the breeze blew his bushy red hair into his eyes. “There better be a damn good reason for scouting in this wretched wind.”
Silas unlatched his saddlebag and pulled out a map. It crinkled as it unfolded and he cursed. Beckett was right to be annoyed; the frigid morning air made everything from taking a piss to reading contour lines a thousand times harder. “You know Elias is sick of waiting. He wanted us out here last week.”
He tugged off a glove with his teeth and shoved it in his pocket before working the kinks out of the worn paper. Elias would box his ears if he ripped a single corner. Maps were worth
more than gold. “Help me hold this.”
Beckett reached for the left edge and pulled the map taut.
Blowing a lungful of warm air over his fingers, Silas warmed them enough to trace the ridge of the foothills around the town. He pointed at the Summit Bridge. “We’re here. The main part of Truckee sits at a low point past the lake.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
Silas cut Beckett a glance, but continued. “The Truckee River snakes alongside Interstate 80 and splits the town in two. South of the highway, the elevations dip into the five thousands.”
“That’s good, right? Lower means water and maybe some flat parts for farming.”
“It’s not that easy. It’s the oldest part of town and full of brick warehouses and abandoned mills. When I canvassed it in the fall, I barely made it out alive. It’s full of people.”
“Even now?”
Silas glanced up at the lake in the distance. “If they aren’t all dead and frozen, then, yeah. Truckee’s population was right about sixteen thousand. Elias says ninety percent should be dead by now, but that leaves what? Over fifteen hundred people still out there, hanging on.”
“But they can’t all be in that one area.”
“We’d have to clear it building by building.” Silas exhaled. “With the sheer number of abandoned warehouses, we would never be able to eliminate all the threats.”
“Then where?” Beckett turned back to the map. “Elias said somewhere with infrastructure and buildings we could secure.”
Silas pointed out the northwest quadrant of town. Perched above the lake, the area hovered right around seven thousand feet. “I’m thinking this area.”
“But that’s just resorts and ski lodges.”
“That means they should be empty.”
“But how’s that any better than what we have now?” Beckett shook his head. “Elias wants a city. Not more log cabins in the snow.”
“Look closer.” Silas pointed out two roads. “There are only two ways in to the whole area. We already control Donner Pass and the cutoff north of Donner Lake Motor Court. That only leaves Northwoods Boulevard.”
Beckett snorted. “So what?”
“What’s on the north side of I-80 at the exit ramp?”
Beckett squinted. “Looks like a little residential area.”
Silas handed over the binoculars. “It’s not residential; it’s commercial. You can even see it from here.”
Beckett brought the binoculars up and focused on the section of town Silas had pointed out on the map. “I see the golden arches, but I don’t think we can get a Quarter Pounder anytime soon.”
“Look below the McDonald’s sign.”
Beckett adjusted the focus. “I see a red cross, but I can’t make out the words.”
“It’s Truckee Mountain Hospital.”
Beckett nodded as he stared into the distance. “I remember that area. Isn’t there a school and a grocery store?”
“And a bunch of other businesses, too. It’ll take work, but if we have the chance to secure a hospital, Elias will be thanking us for years.”
“You really think it’ll have anything left?” Beckett handed the binoculars back. “It’s been nine months.”
Silas made a show of folding up the map. “It’s the only major medical facility north of the interstate. It’s worth a shot.”
“A place like that is going to be a pain in the ass to clear. It’ll take a huge team.”
“We can scout it first. Go in small and light and scope it out. If there’s a ton of people, or the hospital is torched, we can regroup and pick a different spot. But I’m telling you, this is what Elias wants. That’s how we build a new life.”
Beckett rubbed at the gaiter covering his neck. “So we hit the hospital first and see if it’s worth taking over. Then we secure the road and everything to the north.”
Silas nodded. “We already own our stretch of I-80. If we take the north, we’ll box in that part of town. If the hospital area has promise, we can come at it from both sides and flush people out.”
“It could be the start of something new.” Beckett held up his hands like he was framing a sign. “Welcome to Cunningham, California.”
“Hell, it could be the Country of Cunningham for all we know.”
Beckett grinned. “I like the sound of that.”
Silas packed up his gear and clambered back on his snowmobile. “Let’s go tell Elias.”
“And eat some breakfast. If we’re going on the attack, I’m not doing it hungry.”
Chapter Two
WALTER
Clifton Compound
9:00 a.m.
Walter blew on his hands to warm his fingers before turning the freezing knob. A red light illuminated the word ON. It had taken months of scavenging and weeks of tinkering, but he’d finally done it.
The room wasn’t much: barely four by six, with unfinished lumber for walls and a single salvaged window for light. But the view through the fogged glass paled in comparison to the system of electronics bolted to the largest wall. Thanks to a largely ignored county library and a wife who knew her way around the Dewey decimal system, Walter had been able to build his own radio.
Visions of Tucker, Brianna’s boyfriend, leaning over knobs and controls and teaching him the basics pinched his heart. His death seemed forever ago, even thought it hadn’t been a year. Walter paused. Tucker wasn’t the only casualty of this new landscape. By the time the northern states thawed in spring, there would be fewer Americans still.
He cleared his throat and leaned forward. His beard brushed the microphone, broadcasting a crackle as he began to speak.
“Good morning. This is Walter Sloane and it is the three hundredth day since a solar storm knocked out power to most of the United States. If you are listening, then you are a survivor. I know it’s been a while since I’ve broadcast, and I apologize for the lapse.”
He pulled back from the mic and glanced at the rough plywood door.
“If you are somewhere it snows, then you understand the source of my delay. The threat of a harsh winter turned this fall into a mad rush of productivity with little time for reflection. But the cruel snap of freezing temperatures has given me time to do more than survive. I’ve been able to learn. So here I am.”
Walter swallowed. He began broadcasting just after the collapse to give people hope. But how to put it into words after all this time? He wiped his mouth.
“We are weeks away from the first signs of spring. Two months away from the one-year anniversary of the event that changed everything. Let that sink in. We’ve survived ten months without power, without government aid, without fresh deliveries of food and water. We’ve survived using our wits and our labor. It’s an achievement that can’t go unnoticed.
“So if you’re listening, take a few minutes today to stop and celebrate. Congratulate yourself for making it this far. We aren’t a nation of lazy do-nothings. We’re a nation of pioneers and we’re going to rebuild. This coming year will see the start of something new for all of us. I can feel it.
“Walter Sloane, signing off.”
He clicked the power off and exhaled. His speech had been a little preachy and maybe too sentimental, but he couldn’t help it. Walter had hope that the country could come back. It didn’t have to devolve into little homesteads eking out a base level of subsistence through their own backbreaking labor.
They could form alliances. Pool resources. Bring civilization back.
Door hinges squealed behind him and Walter turned.
Colt stepped inside and tugged the door shut. “I’ve been looking for you for so long, I’ve got to piss just to warm up. Should have known you’d be out in this glorified outhouse preaching to the masses.”
Walter grinned. Leave it to Colt to speak his mind. “I’m not preaching. And you can’t take a leak in here so don’t go getting any ideas.”
Colt tugged off his gloves and blew on his hands. “Don’t worry. These ski pants
aren’t coming off unless they’re on fire.” He pointed at the controls. “You finally get it all to work?”
Walter nodded. “Just broadcast for the first time.”
“Did you tell the Jacobsons about it?”
“Not yet. But I can’t imagine they’d have a problem with it.”
Colt snorted. “They have a problem with everything, remember? One glimpse of Tracy at the hospital and they were going to pump her full of more holes than that radio has knobs.”
“But they didn’t.”
“How’s that shoulder?” Colt pointed at the area where Walter took a bullet.
“It’s fine. And they said it wasn’t them.”
“You believe that?”
“I don’t have a reason to doubt them.”
Colt leaned against the bare wood wall and frowned. “Wish I could share your optimism, but so far they haven’t given us much to go on.”
“They gave Madison the rabies vaccine she needed and they saved Dani’s life. Mine, too.”
“Dani was shot by them, Walter. Saving her hardly builds my trust.”
Walter exhaled. Colt was right to a degree, but what choice did they have? “We can’t stay in this bubble forever.”
“Why not?”
