No Power: EMP Post Apocalyptic Fiction Thriller Super Boxset

by J. S. Donvan Donvan

  In the darkness, Wren couldn’t tell Iris’s age, and her voice offered the illusion of youth. She hadn’t noticed just how poignant her words were until now. “Is there something you needed from me, councilwoman? From what I heard of your decision, I have been freed from any crimes.”

  “You have,” Iris acknowledged, stepping around Wren until she was side by side with her. “But there are those that lack conviction in their decision. And there are those that don’t.”

  Edric. Wren had never doubted that he’d been one of the council members that voted to exile her, or kill her, or vote for whatever the punishment would have been. But she wondered which of his two dogs had voted to keep her. Jan had never portrayed anything but an icy distrust for her, and Ted had never even spoken a word. “My family is waiting for me. Are they still at Nathan’s?”

  Iris paused before finally answering, “Yes.” And then she disappeared back down to the platform, exiting the same way she entered. Wren lingered in the hall for a few minutes longer, waiting until the flame from Iris’s candle had disappeared with her. Wolves. The mysterious voice the day of the attack on the gate returned for reasons unknown. Right now she couldn’t tell friend from foe, but she was valuable so long as she delivered on her promises of strengthening their defenses. Weeding out the wolves would have to wait for now.

  Chapter 6

  Wren ran her fingers through Addison’s hair. Chloe was huddled up next to her big sister, both of them breathing softly. Wren had gently lay down next to her girls, careful to not disturb them. She closed her eyes and felt the warmth from their bodies, the lumpy mattress a welcomed comfort that she’d never take for granted again. She watched the steady rise and fall of their chests as the morning sun rose through the windows behind her. With everything that happened, she was happy with the peace and quiet of the morning. She knew the girls would be excited to see her, though that couldn’t be said for everyone.

  When she met Nathan at the cabin after she was released, it was like trying to speak to a ghost. He went to his room without a word, offering no hint to his thoughts. Though the cold shoulder was evidence enough that it would be a long time before he trusted her again.

  Zack was the first to wake, and when he saw her, his sleepy eyes burst into silent tears. Wren’s heart melted at the sight, and at first she thought he was simply overwhelmed, but when she reached out her arms, he violently knocked them away. The angered glare that accompanied the swing stung more painfully than the motion itself. He huddled in the corner of his cot with his back to her.

  With no idea of what he was upset about, and too exhausted to investigate, Wren found her cot and pulled the coarse blanket over her body. It was easy for her to fall asleep. Her eyes were so heavy she didn’t think she’d ever be able to open them again. How long the rest lasted, she couldn’t be sure, but the call of her name pierced the bubble of her dreamless sleep. She struggled to wake, her eyes snapping shut after every attempt to open them. She rolled lazily to her side, pulling the blanket over her head, hoping to shield herself from any more disruptions, but failed. The sheet was ripped from her grip, and the light dispersed the darkness from under the covers. The three cots were empty, Zack and the girls gone, and Nathan hovered over her. “You’re late for work.” The words were clipped and short, and he disappeared before Wren had a chance to speak.

  “Hey!” Wren stumbled from bed, her muscles uncoordinated and shaky. Every flex of her right thigh sent a thousand needles digging into her skin, and the first shot of pain collapsed her to the floor. She grunted, pushed herself up, and limped after Nate. The farther she walked, the more she numbed to the pain, and she caught up to Nate at the well, where she leaned against the stone brick, catching her breath. “Nate,” she panted between breaths, “about last night—”

  “You should head down to the front gate.” Nate pulled the well’s rope, lifting the bucket from the center of the walled stone. He kept his eyes on his task, refusing to look her in the eye. “Iris and Ben are waiting for you. Best not have them linger there without you for too long.”

  “Right.” Wren limped away, unsure of what she expected from him. From the very first moment they ran into each other in Chicago, all Nathan had tried to do was help, and she’d repaid him with betrayal during his moment of need. He didn’t have any reason to forgive her. All that was left now was to try and make their situation amiable.

  By the time she arrived at the gate, both Iris and Ben’s expressions signaled they’d reached the end of their patience. Iris was particularly wroth. “I don’t suppose this is how you’ll be starting all of your days with us?”

  Wren rubbed her thigh and felt the sweat of fever as she had the day before. She wiped the perspiration from her forehead. “I’m sorry.” She turned back to where she’d left Nate at the well, then back to Iris. “It won’t happen again.”

  “Good.” Iris waved up toward one of the guards on duty, and the front gate opened. Along with Ben and Iris, two guards joined the escort, everyone armed except for Wren.

  Wren’s first step beyond the wall was planted in a dried patch of blood. The fluid had lost its crimson shimmer but retained the distinct hue associated with claret. She remained frozen in that first step, and her eyes fell upon the other stains that dotted the dirt road. The wreckage of the vehicles had been removed, along with the bodies, and what remains were left behind had been scavenged by animals. All that was left of their lives were the stains on the forest floor.

  “Wren,” Iris said, looking back at her, the rest of the group stopping alongside.

  “Sorry.” She limped forward, leaving her footprint on the dead, stained leaves. With no idea of where she was being taken, Wren followed the herd as they kept tight to the community’s walled perimeter. Every few hundred feet, Iris and Ben would whisper to one another, but Wren was so concentrated on staying upright that she couldn’t hear what they were saying. But before her mind wandered down the twisted corridors of speculation, Iris and Ben stopped. Wren leaned against the fence, her body drenched in sweat and her lips so raw they felt like pieces of flint.

  “You said that you could improve our defenses,” Iris said, walking through the tall grass that had overgrown next to the fence. “What do you see here?”

  Wren examined her surroundings. The trees, rocks, thick grass, the surrounding hills, and the rotten wood that composed the nearest portion of the fence. “That lumber needs to be replaced.” She fingered the brittle bark that flecked away at the lightest touch, then kicked the weeds that came up to her knees. “And you’ll want to push this grass back, keep it maintained around the entire perimeter. That’ll help keep the integrity of the fence and keep any pests from nesting too close. The biggest problem you’ll have with wood is rot.” She pointed to a cluster of tall oaks a few dozen yards into the forest. “Oak holds up well against that; it’s strong, and I’ve seen plenty of trees to provide the resources we need.” She pointed out the more obvious signs of rot and then to a few showing the early stages. “Eventually we’ll want to upgrade to any steel we can salvage from the towns, or what we have on hand, and use it as brace materials. So to start, we reestablish the foundation of the fence and make sure it can’t be toppled over by a stiff breeze, as I’ve seen in some parts.” The explanation sucked the wind from her, and she struggled to catch her breath.

  “Ben and I took a risk bringing you on board,” Iris said. “Your words were inspiring, but what you do with them will decide your fate. Remember that you’re only as valuable as what you bring to the table. Once that disappears, so do you.”

  Wren nodded, triggering a dizzy spell. She fought against the desire to collapse. If she needed to show strength, then now was the time to do it. “Then I’ll need a team to help get me started. How many carpenters do you have in the community?” They started the walk back to the front gate, Wren doing her best to not stumble in the tall grass along the way.

  “We have three,” Iris answered.

  “And two
blacksmiths,” Ben added from behind them.

  “That’s good,” Wren replied. “There’s no guarantee that the materials we’ll be able to salvage will be of high quality, so they’ll need to know how to get the most from what we find.” The heat from the sun sapped her strength as she walked. The cut along her thigh burned. She stumbled, and Iris caught her arm. She turned her head away from everyone’s gaze to hide the pain etched along her face.

  “Wren, are you all right?” Ben asked, coming up from behind her.

  “Yeah,” Wren answered, trying to straighten her leg. “The past few nights were a little rough, that’s all.” She forced a half smile, but it was cut short by another searing burn in her thigh. She stiffened her back, avoiding collapse, but the ground started to spin.

  “Wren?” Iris asked, the tone in her voice shifting to concern. “What’s wrong?”

  “I just…” Before she finished, she collapsed to her knees, her leg numb from the fall. And just as quickly as she’d fallen face-first into the grass, she felt her body lift from the ground, her eyes opening and closing, the pattern of the canopy of trees changing each time. “I’m fine.”

  Suddenly the view of the sky shifted to the wooden beams of a ceiling. Wren lolled her head back and forth. The faces that hovered above her shifted and changed. All of them spoke, but she waved her arm at them. “I’m fine. I just need to lie down.” She repeated the words like a prayer. Her whole body ached, and her last bits of coherency melted away.

  Every once in a while, a jolt of discomfort ran through her, but her mind and body were so exhausted that her reactions were little more than a soft shudder and mumble. She became lost, wandering in pain, and suddenly she was back in Chicago. Fires circled her, the heat from the flames licking her skin. She saw Zack and the girls beyond the inferno, crying out to her, pleading for her to save them.

  But Wren’s every attempt to reach them was met with failure. The flames roared in defiance and tossed her back into the middle of the fire. Screaming, she watched her family catch fire. Her throat grew raw from smoke and heat. Wren wrestled the flames, stretching out her arms, the heat so intense she felt herself catch fire. And that was how she slept, burning with her family.

  ***

  “Wren.”

  The voice was faint, nothing more than a tickle in her unconscious mind. She stirred as the voice grew louder, repeating her name over and over. The voice echoed louder, ringing through her ears until she finally opened her eyes. “Doug?” She squinted and for a moment believed that she was back in the hospital in Chicago. She reached her hand up to the arm where she’d been shot and felt the same sling that was given to her after the surgery. But the movement brought to light another pain in her leg. And while the ache had dulled, it still lingered. She ran her palm down to her thigh, and the infected flesh was replaced with a bandage that ran from hip to knee.

  “Wren,” Nathan repeated once more. “Can you hear me all right?”

  Her vision cleared, and the outlines of bodies appeared. She lifted her head from the pillow to get a better look, but the exertion was too much for her neck to bear, and she collapsed back onto the cushion. “What happened?”

  “The infection on your leg spread,” Nathan answered. “If it had gone any farther, we would have had to amputate. Why didn’t you say it was getting worse?”

  “Where’s Zack and the girls?” Wren lightly fingered the bandage on her leg, the cloth soft under her fingertips.

  “They’re fine,” a voice said.

  “We wanted to send them away before you woke up,” Nate said. “To make sure you were okay before they saw you. Yesterday was your worst day.”

  “Yesterday?” Wren asked, confused. “How long have I been in here?”

  “Three days,” a voice said.

  The voice sounded familiar but tired. She couldn’t place it, though, and she lifted her head, forcing herself to locate the source. She propped her arms underneath her body to get a better look, and that’s when she saw him.

  Doug sat at an angle, supported by a dozen different cushions on a cot, and had an IV stuck into his arm. His shirt was removed, and his entire midsection was wrapped in bandages. Dark caverns etched themselves under his eyes, and his face had grown hollow and thin. In all their time together, she’d never seen him so weak. “The girls are back at Nate’s place. Zack’s been watching them.”

  Wren nodded then rested her head back on the pillow. Her body ached, and her mind was barely strong enough to formulate more than a few words. “How long have I been in here?”

  “Nearly three days,” Nathan answered. “You had a fever of one hundred and four. We did what we could to keep you cool. You’re on an antibiotic regimen for the infection. Same as Doug.”

  Wren flinched. “Three days?”

  Iris stepped forward. “Your husband will be joining Nathan’s cabin once he’s able to walk around himself. When the doctor says the two of you are healthy enough to return to work, you will do so immediately. So I suggest you rest quickly and often.” Iris left with a few people Wren didn’t recognize, leaving only Nathan and Doug at her side.

  “We’ll bring in some food from the mess hall,” Nathan said, taking a look at the IV drip hooked up to her arm. “You’ll need to eat quite a bit to help you recover.” He rattled a bottle of pills and placed it next to the bedside table. “You need to take these three times a day, with food, until they’re gone.”

  Wren wanted to thank him, apologize, explain, but there were too many words she needed that she didn’t have access to at the moment. All she managed to express was a smile, which Nate returned in kind. It could have been out of pity or regret, but either way, she took it as a step in the right direction. Nathan left, leaving Wren and Doug alone in the infirmary. The glow of the sunlight coming through the windows hinted at sunset, and she closed her eyes, hoping to drift off to sleep before either of them had a chance to speak. But Doug had other plans.

  “The girls came by to see you the other day. They seemed okay, though I think they were just pretending to keep a brave face. Zack took it hard, though.”

  Wren kept her eyes closed, her hand running up and down the bandage on her thigh. There was a slight indentation underneath the gauze, and she wondered how much flesh they’d had to remove to save the leg.

  “Nate told me what you did,” Doug said.

  She shifted to her side to look him in the eye. He kept his head down, and his arms hung limp like noodles from his shoulders. “And what did he say?” She remembered the look of betrayal Nate gave her during the trial after her omission. It was a look she never wanted to see again.

  “He’s not mad at you, Wren,” Doug replied. “Not anymore, at least. He knows why you did it. But it was a lot for anyone to process. Especially in the setting you chose to do it.”

  “There’s never a good time to give someone bad news,” Wren answered, hoping that Doug would catch her meaning as she spoke. “Did he also tell you what I promised to give these people?”

  “Yeah. He told me.”

  Wren’s strength faded, and she closed her eyes once more, repositioning her head on the pillow to get comfortable. “These people will only keep us here for as long as they need us.” She yawned, her eyelids turning into heavy pieces of lead dropping over her eyes. “They’ll want to have me finish as quickly as I can. I need to… figure… something out.” She pulled one of the blankets tight to her chin, and she thought she heard Doug mumble something, but she didn’t hear it. Her last thoughts were the howls of wolves. Though she couldn’t be sure if they were real or just the beginning of a nightmare.

  Chapter 7 – One Month Later

  “We need all that material cleared before the afternoon. It’s rained like clockwork all week, and I don’t want to lose the trench to another slide before we can fill it.” Wren walked the line of at least a dozen workers ripping logs from the earth and tossing them aside, replacing them with some of the forged-steel braces she had instructed the b
lacksmiths to mold. She rotated her left shoulder, still not used to the sling’s absence, though glad to be rid of it. All that remained of the bullet wound in her arm was a small scar under the worn T-shirt sleeve.

  Wren moved quickly up and down the line, one hand clutching the plans she’d drawn up to reinforce the wall. Nearly half of the fence was reconstructed. She replaced old wooden beams and reinforced the weaker ones with iron studs sunk deep into the ground. Massive braces on the interior of the fence stiffened the wood, adding to its defense. She also raised the wall’s height. The surrounding trees were cleared to provide the material for the extension, and every dozen yards contained a small window concealed with a sliding piece of steel. If they were attacked, it would allow patrols to shoot through the fence and to spy on any enemy while safely behind cover. The additions provided the fence with a more formidable presence. And judging by the looks of the council and the community, everyone was starting to believe they’d made the right decision in allowing her to stay.

  “Mrs. Burton!” The foreman of the crew, Tom, waved from farther down the fence, where tomorrow’s project lay. He was a large man, nearly six and a half feet. He’d spent most of his life in construction, and out of everyone Wren spoke with, he was the only one who understood the plans she created. “I would have done it myself, ma’am, if I had the background,” he’d told her. He constructed the first version of the wall, and his acceptance of her work only helped bring the rest of the crew in line. Through his respect of her, the others followed without question.

  Tom stood near a thirty-foot section of the fence that had been set ablaze the night before, staining the wood black. If the logs weren’t as damp as they were from the week’s rain, it could have been much worse. “The second patch of burned wood is another hundred yards down,” Tom said, gesturing his massive hand to the north, then pointed to where black and charred bark had ended in a decidedly straight and geometric line. “Looks like the retardant worked. It’s a good thing we started applying it when you said.”