UNLAWFUL RESTRAINT: an EMP survival story (The Hidden Survivor Book 2)

by Connor Mccoy

  “That’s a whole issue of its own,” Sally agreed. “We can’t kill them all.”

  “I don’t want to kill any of them,” Mia said. “That was always a stupid idea.”

  “Wasn’t it your idea?” Christian asked raising his eyebrow.

  “Might have been,” Mia said. “But it was just a reaction to what was going on. If Glen taught me anything, it’s that you have to hang on to your humanity. Remember your compassion.”

  “That’s what we’re doing, isn’t it?” Christian asked. “Going to rescue him?”

  “Yes. That’s what we are doing.” Sally gave Mia a look through half-closed eyes. “If someone ever finishes eating.”

  “I’m done.” Mia jumped out of her chair. “I just need to get dressed.”

  They pulled on their driest clothes and then their raincoats. Sally went as far as rummaging through the drawers in the bedroom to find clean underwear and dry pants.

  “Really?” Christian asked. “You are going to wear someone else’s underwear?”

  “How is that any different from eating off their plates?” Sally asked. “I’m tired of stinking to high heaven, and all of my clothes are still damp. I just want to be clean and dry.”

  Mia dropped the pistol into her raincoat pocket, and Christian hefted the shotgun. Two firearms weren’t going to save them from an army, but they might come in useful against a single assailant.

  They left the farmhouse by the rear door and scooted back into the forest at the back. They weren’t going to use the front of the house at all, because if it continued to look disused then maybe no one would bother them. Mia hoped that was the case, anyway. She was happy to stay there as long as possible. It was better than trespassing on Glen’s hospitality. And it had enough bedrooms for all them. To say nothing of enough food.

  She put a hand on her full belly. Never had food satisfied her more. The freshwater mussels had been okay, but they weren’t really her thing. They hadn’t really filled her up like the soup had. It was so thick they could have called it stew, as far as she was concerned. That was probably because Sally had added so much extra rice and then a can of chicken broth. She’d asked Sally about it while they’d been getting dressed.

  They found an unused path in the woods that headed in what seemed like the right direction and followed it. It was clear no one had been on it for a while. Branches were growing across it and clumps of leaves were scattered along it. But it still was easier than hacking their way through the forest. And not nearly as exhausting.

  Rain dripped on them from the trees and through the trees and Mia’s pant legs soon were as wet as they had been when they had reached the farmhouse. Her feet squelched in her sneakers. She really needed to find a pair of boots, but the worst part was the pain in her cheek. She hoped the scratch wasn’t getting infected. She didn’t dare take another shot of any kind of painkiller. Not after what had happened before.

  She wondered what had happened to the over-the-counter drugs she thought she’d grabbed in the pharmacy. Maybe Glen had them? But they hadn’t been in the bags when she’d joined up with Sally and Christian. Had they had fallen out? She would have given anything to have something that would ease the sting and the ache. She’d ignored it while she was eating because, well, because, duh, food.

  Mia sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. The dampness was making it run, and she wished she was back in the dry farmhouse and there had been no gunshots and that Glen was with them, so they wouldn’t have to investigate. She was glad she had Sally and Christian, and Glen, of course, but sometimes she wished they could just stay put and pretend to be normal for a while. Wouldn’t that be nice?

  Maybe they could now. There was plenty of food at the farmhouse, and if they just could keep from being discovered, they could stay there a while. She wondered what had happened to the people who had lived there, and why they had left a house so full of good stuff. Maybe they were living in the town now? Were they off somewhere hoping to come home to a house full of supplies? If that were the case, they’d be disappointed to find someone had been in their stuff. Like Goldilocks and the Three Bears.

  Most likely, of course, they were dead. Something dreadful had happened to them and they never were coming back to the house. Mia was sorry if that was the case, but it certainly made it easier on her conscience to think they were gone. She didn’t really like the dog-eat-dog nature of current society. She especially didn’t like being one of the dogs. If they only had a house of their own.

  Sally stumbled just ahead of Mia, reaching out to catch her arm so she wouldn’t fall. Sally smiled at her wanly. She was tired, Mia thought. She should have slept instead of setting up the laundry and cooking food. They both should have rested, because now they were likely to make mistakes. Mia would have to keep an eye out for that. And when they got back, she’d offer Sally a turn in the big bed.

  The gunshots had not abated and, in fact, had increased until it sounded like a battle. There was screaming now too. Mia wondered how close they were and if they should do a reconnaissance run so they didn’t stumble into the fighting by accident.

  “Christian,” she said quietly, “wait up.” She jogged past Sally at a wide spot in the trail and caught Christian’s arm. “We should try seeing what’s going on,” she said. “So we don’t run right into the fighting by mistake.”

  “How do you propose we do that?” he asked.

  “One of us could sneak to the edge of the forest, or climb a tree and see what we can see?” Mia said, making it a question, so she didn’t seem like she was taking over.

  “I don’t want to climb a tree,” Christian said and turned to Sally. “Do you want to climb a tree?”

  Sally shook her head wearily. She shouldn’t be climbing any trees.

  “I’ll go,” Mia said, looking around for a likely candidate. There was a big tree growing next to a large boulder. Mia thought if she could climb the boulder she’d be able to get into the tree’s branches. She touched Christian’s arm. “Can you help me get up there?” she asked.

  Christian handed the shotgun to Sally and made a stirrup with his hands. She put her soggy sneaker into his hands. He grimaced but held still. “I suppose it would be too much to ask for a clean, dry shoe in my hands?” he said.

  She smiled at him and said “One! Two! Three! Go!” She jumped as he boosted her up. She was just able to climb on top of the boulder, with a little scrabbling.

  Mia stood up and looked around. The boulder was pretty tall, but not tall enough to top the forest by a long shot, so she reached for a branch and hauled herself up. She didn’t know what kind of tree it was, but it was suitable for climbing. It had sturdy limbs that weren’t too far apart, and they didn’t start to get smaller until she was quite a way up. Finally, her head poked through the canopy, and she was able to see around her.

  She wiped the rain from her face and saw they’d been traveling in the right direction, although she really already knew that because the noise had been getting louder. Whereas behind her there were trees and more trees, in front of her she could see the valley, the road, and the town. It looked as though the fighting was concentrated at the far end, which was good. They wouldn’t have to skirt the settlement before they went in. However, there were sentries posted at the near edge as well, although they seemed to be paying more attention to the fighting at the other end of the town than to any threat coming from this direction. It was human nature, she thought, to keep an eye on the known risk, rather than look for something that may never materialize.

  That would work in their favor, she decided, looking to see where they might cross the open land between forest and town without being seen. It was good that the three of them were covered in mud, their dirt would blend in with the wet world and make them less visible.

  The library where she and Glen had been held was on this end of town, Mia noticed. So, they probably should look there first. After that, anyone’s guess was as good as hers. She spent a fe
w more minutes just watching, taking in details that might help them when they got there. Then she started back down the tree. She made it to the boulder without incident, but then was stymied about to how to get down.

  She couldn’t just jump, it was too far, and she couldn’t drop from a tree branch for the same reason. What was she going to do?

  “Christian,” she hissed, “how do I get down from here? We didn’t bring any rope.”

  Christian looked worried. He walked as far around the boulder as he could before the undergrowth got to be too much, and stepped back. He looked up to her. “You’ll have to jump, and I’ll catch you,” he said.

  “I’ll crush you,” she said.

  “You’re not that heavy,” he said.

  “I’ll hurt you then.” She looked around. “Why isn’t there a convenient vine or something? There would be in Tarzan or Dr. Who.”

  “Why don’t we zip our raincoats together? You can sling them over that branch and let yourself down that way.” Sally asked. “Then Christian can catch you, and you won’t bowl him over.”

  “You’ll get wet,” Mia said.

  “Like we aren’t wet already,” Sally said, rolling her eyes. “Come on, Christian, let’s get this over with.” She unzipped her raincoat, took Christian’s and zipped them together.

  She flung them upward, and on the third try, Mia was able to catch them. She took off her own jacket and zipped it to Sally’s. She considered tying a sleeve to the branch, but if she did that they might not be able to get the coats back. And no one wanted to be running around in the rain with bullets flying without their raincoat on.

  She settled for draping the coats over the branch and taking hold of both sides. She swung out and went into a partially controlled slide that felt entirely uncontrolled to her. She dropped and landed in Christian’s outstretched arms, knocking him over and completely flattening him.

  She rolled off him and couldn’t contain her nervous laughter. He started laughing as well, and before she knew it, all three of them were laughing uncontrollably.

  Chapter Three

  Terror paced the big entrance hall of the library. He thought about examining the maps on the big table in his favorite room, but his mood would ruin the place for him. Maybe forever. Why are they under attack again? Didn’t he give these people the opportunity to stay? Didn’t he offer protection? Food? Medicine? And they’d stabbed him in the back.

  He needed this skirmish to be over so he could concentrate on finding the traitor who had raped the girl. Or at least hit the girl. That was unacceptable behavior, and he would punish the man who did it. He would beat him to within an inch of his life and then cut off his balls.

  A voice in his head whispered that it would be difficult to cut off his own balls. He stopped a moment, puzzled. He had no memory of beating a girl, it couldn’t have been him. “Oh, but it was,” mocked the voice. “You and only you. No one else would dare do anything so brutal with you around to cut off their balls.”

  He stopped pacing and laid his face against the cold marble, a column at the far end of the hall. It felt so peaceful just to stand there, to become one with the stone. The voice in his head was wrong. He had not hurt the girl. She’d come to his bed willingly, and someone else had hurt her. That’s what had happened and to hell with the voice in his head.

  It was laughing now. Laughing at him, mocking him. He stood up and drove his fist into the pillar, breaking his knuckles.

  When Angelica found him, he was sitting on the floor, his back against the cold marble column. He saw her coming toward him and wondered what she was worried about. Had something happened? He wanted to get up and meet her halfway, but really, it was too much trouble when he was so tired.

  “What have you done to yourself?” she asked. “Your poor hand is mangled.”

  It was. The bones were broken, and blood was seeping from cuts and scrapes, even though it had been ages since he’d hit the column. At least it felt like ages. He didn’t remember why he’d done it. What practical purpose could hitting a marble pillar serve?

  “What happened?” she asked. “Did you get in a fight with someone?”

  “Just this pillar,” he said. “It insulted me.” He gave her a weak smile.

  She frowned at him, her eyes showing a look of concern. “Okay, well, let’s get you up and get this taken care of.” She took hold of his elbow and helped him to his feet.

  “The doctor is drunk,” he pointed out. “There’s no point in trying to get him to fix this. It’ll heal anyway.” He looked at his hand and wondered if that were true. It was so purple and swollen it was hard to imagine it ever looking normal again.

  “What about the other doctor?” she asked. “The one you have locked in a closet? He could take care of this.”

  “He’s too close to the fighting,” he said. “It would be too difficult to get him out of there.”

  “Then let me clean it up and wrap it until the gunfire lets up. Then I’ll go get him. All we have to do is turn off the batteries, the lights will go out, and they won’t be able to see to shoot. Come next door, I’ve got some supplies.”

  She led him out of the library and into the street. He pulled himself together and walked purposefully beside her. He was the leader in this town. What usually came so naturally took a lot of effort. He was grateful when Angelica pointed to the dining room table and told him to sit.

  He sat with his eyes closed, felling his hand throb with every heartbeat. He wished he’d been smart enough to not hit a marble pillar. In his mind he rewrote the story. He’d engaged an intruder in hand-to-hand combat and, during the fray, he’d been slammed against the pillar, destroying his hand. Yes, that was it. He’d chased off an armed combatant with his bare hands.

  “I see nothing amusing here,” Angelica said. “What are you smiling at?”

  He snapped his eyes open.

  “I’m just planning what I’ll do with those damn people from the settlement,” he said. “I think it’s time to burn it down. I should have chased them off a long time ago. I’ve got to overcome this damn sentimental streak. I never could stand to see a family evicted from their home.”

  “A sentimental streak? If you’ve got one, I’ve never seen it. I don’t know what’s going on in your head, but if it’s as gory as that smile made me think, you’d better keep it away from the families here. Or you’ll be losing more town folk. They’re already spooked as it is.”

  She took a cloth and gently began washing his hand. He sucked in his breath as the soap stung his skin and the pressure sent jolts of pain through his fingers. When she was done washing, she dried it and wrapped it in gauze, giving him a mummy’s hand. He cradled his hand against his body, trying to keep the pain off his face.

  “Let’s see if we can make it across town,” she said. “I’d hate for people to think I let you get all gimpy on my watch.”

  “Why are you acting so nice?” he asked. “You aren’t soft. You’d better not be humoring me. You know I despise that.”

  “I’m trying to get you to the doctor,” she said. “You respond better to kindness than orders when you are hurt. If you are going to take out your frustration on me, then forget it. You can get yourself to the doctor.”

  “I don’t need the doctor,” he said. He felt the fire burning in his belly again, and he wanted to strike out at her, but he fought the urge. He needed to be presidential, not petty. “I’ll heal just fine without a doctor.”

  “Sure, if you don’t care if you are able to use your hand again. But if you want to be able to fire a gun, then you should get it seen to. You are not a stupid man, Tyrell, but sometimes you forget to use your brain.”

  “Many great leaders have injuries,” Terror said. “It’s how their followers recognize they’ve been victorious in battle. I won’t need to shoot a gun if I have men to do it for me.”

  “Men and women,” Angelica said.

  “Of course, men and women. Why do you even need to say that? Have I eve
r discriminated against women? No.”

  “Look at the number of women compared to men,” she said. “It’s not exactly fifty-fifty.”

  “There aren’t as many women with the skills I need as there are men,” he said. “Or it would be fifty-fifty. Women are easier to work with, they don’t get involved with all that macho one-on-one bull crap that men do.”

  “I don’t think you are looking hard enough,” she said. “I’ve worked with plenty badass women.”

  “You wouldn’t catch a man coddling me,” he said, ignoring her last point.

  “I wouldn’t catch any of your men within a hundred feet of you when you’re injured. They stay far, far away. They are afraid of you, which may be smart, but it isn’t very badass.” She gave him a pointed look. “So, either get up off your ass and get a move on or don’t. I’m tired of this conversation.”

  He glared at her. This was why he’d recruited her, of course. But he wasn’t especially pleased that she wasn’t afraid of him. Or, if she was scared, she knew how to keep it to herself. She was shorter than him by at least ten inches, and that was with her hair gelled up into spikes, but she wasn’t intimidated by him. If it were possible, he’d even say she was bored by him in his current mood.

  That she was bored rankled him. He considered himself many things, but boring was not one of them. Boring was dangerous. Men did not follow boring leaders. They followed men who inspired them. Men who had ideas, and knew how to bring them to fruition.

  And hadn’t he had visions that he’d brought to life? This town with lights and refrigeration powered by wind and solar energy, it was a monument to his know-how, his creativity, his balls. He was a ballsy leader. He knew how to get things done. If Angelica was bored with him, that was her problem. He was a dynamic and complex man.

  He got up. “What are you waiting for?” he asked. “Let’s get going.”