He arrived on-site wearing a boonie cap, tan short-sleeved button-down shirt, blue jeans, and black work boots. A pistol holster hung around his shoulders, with his Sig Sauer 9mm pistol inside. All of his men were armed. After raiding the firearm store, they’d swept homes and took whatever weapons they could find: guns, knives, baseball bats, golf clubs, and power tools—ensuring that there were few weapons with which the residents could fight back.
Eddie, Wade, Larry, and Dwayne were standing there waiting. They had ten prisoners gathered under the shade of a large oak tree. Cinder blocks sat piled next to a narrow cement foundation the stretched across the road.
Arthur greeted his men and scanned the area carefully, not saying a word. Among the prisoners, two men sat bruised and bloody. Their shirts were torn, though everyone’s clothes were tattered and dirty. They were worn and disheveled—a stark contrast to Arthur and his men.
“Seems that we had a little scuffle today,” Arthur said to his men.
Larry pointed to the prisoners. “Sure did. Those two dumbasses over there.”
The two prisoners in question looked up as Larry continued. “One of them thought the other had taken his food bar while he went to take a piss. They started arguing, and then the bald one jumps on the curly-haired one—”
Arthur held his palm up. “Larry, please. They have names. Just like we did when we were locked up. Remember?” He pivoted and turned to the prisoners, approaching them with casual ease. “Sam, is it? I remember you. Sam Hasselbeck.”
The balding man nodded and wiped away a trickle of blood falling from his nose. Arthur looked to the other man, shorter than his counterpart and with a thick mesh of curly locks. “And you’re… Brad.”
“Brian,” the man said.
Arthur smiled. “Brian. Yes, of course. I apologize.” He called his men over and examined the ill-fated construction project before them. They were behind schedule. “How much time have we lost already? An hour? Two hours?”
“Gotta be at least an hour, Mr. Mayor,” Larry answered.
Arthur scowled. “And can we afford to lose an entire hour?” He swung his head around, waiting for an answer. “Well?”
“No,” Larry answered.
Arthur raised his voice. “It’s not rocket science. When infighting happens, you separate them from the group, neutralize the situation, and get the others back to work. You don’t stop everything in its tracks. Otherwise, they’ll get into fights every day.” He looked around, deadly serious. “Understand?”
“It wasn’t just a fight,” Larry added. “The whole damn lot of them are nothing but trouble.”
Arthur shifted around and then pointed at Sam and Brian. “Could you gentlemen stand up, please?”
Sam and Brian looked at each other, hesitant.
Larry dashed forward and pointed his rifle in Brian’s face. “On your feet!”
Trembling, Brian rose as Larry went over to Sam, prepared to club him in the face.
“OK!” Sam said, jumping up. The two men stood as their fellow prisoners watched silently.
Arthur took a careful step back to address the group as a whole. “I know that much of what you’ve experienced here the past two months has been a horrible shock to you and to your families. I know that part of you still clings to the idea that things will go back to normal very soon. The military will come, they’ll bring engineers and electricians and fix the entire town. I know this because it is something I think about all the time. The only problem with this scenario is that you’re still living in the past. Things have changed now, and there’s no going back from here. Period.”
Arthur took off his hat and wiped away some beads of sweat that had formed on his forehead. He fanned his face with the hat and continued.
“Thousands of years before our time, man survived without modern conveniences, without electricity, cars, or cell phones. Thousands of years, think about it.”
Arthur took a breath and looked around. e He had their attention, since no one was sure exactly what he was going to do.
“As prisoners, it’s understandable that you would be resentful. Before the big blast on September twelfth that changed our world, I and my fellow men were prisoners ourselves. Prisoners of your system. But by helping us progress beyond any remaining remnants of the modern world and into the present reality, you, too, can partake of our new society.”
Arthur stopped, took notice of the Sam scowling, and asked, “Am I upsetting you, Sam?”
Sam balled his fists, defiant. “You’re a lunatic.”
No one else said a thing. The other prisoners wouldn’t make eye contact. Amused, Arthur crossed his arms, tilted his head back and flashed a crooked smile.
Sam then pointed at Arthur. “You’re not going to get away with any of this. You hear me?”
“That’s enough!” Larry said, stepping forward.
Sam winced, then Arthur cut in. “That’s all right, Larry. Everyone vents in different ways.” He paused. “However, Sam may want to save some of his energy, because he’s going to finish what he started.” Arthur took a step back and raised his arms. “May the best man win!”
Puzzled looks were exchanged among the men.
“What do you say?” Arthur asked Sam directly. “Now’s your chance to prove yourself.”
Sam began sitting back down. “Not interested. It’s over.”
Brian nodded. “Yeah. It’s no big deal. Just a misunderstanding.”
Arthur covered his mouth mockingly with a gasp. “How can that be? Just a few minutes ago you were pummeling each other over a food bar. You need to settle this thing here and now.”
Larry held his rifle to Sam’s face as Wade pointed his Remington barrel at Brian.
Sam held his arms up defensively. “Don’t shoot! Look, I’m sorry, OK?”
“Get up!” Larry shouted. They both rose, trembling.
Arthur approached them as they stood. “This is not an option,” he said. He pulled his pistol out of its holster and gestured to an open area between the trees. “You’re both going to fight, and you’re not going to stop until one of you is dead.”
The two prisoners stared forward in total disbelief. Brian pleaded for another way. Sam’s stoic and battered face showed little emotion beyond defiance.
“No,” he said. “You’ll just have to shoot me.”
“Please,” Brian said, cutting in. “I have a family. I just want to get back to work.”
“Quiet!” Wade said, pummeling Brian in the chest with his buttstock. Brian collapsed to his knees, gasping for air.
Arthur looked at Sam and spoke calmly. “If you don’t fight, we’ll shoot you, your wife, and your two children.” He took a step back. “Are you willing to sacrifice all of your lives for one man?”
Sam didn’t answer. A single tear fell from his cheek.
Arthur smiled. “I didn’t think so.”
Dwayne and Eddie rushed forward and grabbed Sam and Brian, pulling them away. The prisoners struggled as they were dragged to a nearby clearing. As they were tossed onto the ground, Arthur’s group surrounded them.
“You can’t make us do this!” Sam shouted.
Brian fell to his knees, his fingers interlocked. “I didn’t take your food bar, I swear!”
“Fight him, you sissy!” Larry shouted.
“What do you want to bet on our boy, Sam?” Wade asked Dwayne.
“He’s little, but he’s got a lot more balls than the other one.”
The two men awkwardly stood facing each other as Arthur’s group egged them on. Arthur then pointed his pistol in the air and fired, startling everyone. “That’s the bell. Start fighting!”
Brian held his chest where Wade had hit him, and hunched over. A drop of his drool had settled on the dusty sand below. Sam slowly raised his fists, but hesitated.
“Hit him!” Arthur shouted.
All Sam could see was the back of Brian’s curly mop-top. He swung downward with his balled fist and struck Brian’s skull.
The men cheered ecstatically. Brian fell to the ground, clutching his head.
“Better fight back!” Larry shouted.
“He’s done. He’s finished,” Wade added.
Eddie remained quiet, his enthusiasm feigned.
Sam stood over Brian, hesitating. The group continued to cheer.
Arthur aimed his 9mm between Sam’s eyes. “Speed it up, Sammy boy. We got a wall to build.”
Just as Brian turned his head and looked up, Sam punched him in the jaw. He fell on his back, crying in agony. Sam shook his wrist and knelt next to his flailing opponent. He moved Brian’s hand away and punched him in the face again.
Brian cried out in distress. Arthur’s group was whipped into a frenzy. The prisoners watched from a distance, with fear and worry spread across their faces.
“Fight me, damn it!” Sam shouted at Brian.
Brian struggled to get on his knees amidst all the jubilant clamoring. Sam offered his hand and helped pull him up. But just as Brian got to his feet, he threw a handful of sand into Sam’s face, taking him by surprise.
As the dirt hit Sam’s eyes, Brian lunged forward and tackled him. Arthur’s men hollered and jumped as the fight took a stunning and unexpected turn. Both men rolled on the ground, holding each other, throwing fists, elbows and knees, grunting and heaving. In their deadly scuffle, Brian managed to get on top of Sam, pinning both arms down with his legs.
“Holy shit! Can you believe it?” Larry asked the others, astonished.
Brian’s curly hair hung down over his eyes as blood dripped from his face.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t let anything happen to my family!”
Sam was pinned down and squirming. Brian’s first punch hit him directly in the nose. A small popping sound was followed by Sam’s pained scream. Brian hit him again and again until one of his knuckles cracked, causing him to fall back, wringing his hand. He screamed through clenched teeth. Sam saw his chance and leapt at Brian with his last ounce of strength.
The cheering reached a raucous crescendo as the tide turned unexpectedly once again. Sam pinned Brian down and punched him furiously, pummeling his face as the crowd cheered on.
“Kill him!” Dwayne shouted out.
Exhausted, Sam fell back and onto the dirt, gasping as the cheering died down.
“Is he dead?” Wade asked, approaching Brian’s motionless body. Sam remained on his back, one arm over his face and one leg resting across Brian’s legs.
Arthur examined the beaten man. He leaned in close to his chest and raised a cautionary finger. “He’s still breathing.” He turned to Larry. “Time to put him down.”
Larry was incredulous. “But I… I thought this was a fight to the death.”
“Just do it!” Arthur barked.
Larry said no more as he approached Brian and stood next to his head. He took a step back, aimed his rifle, and fired. Brian’s head split open into three separate parts, with nothing identifiable above his jaw. Arthur signaled his men to take Sam away.
“I think our victor deserves a rest. See that it happens.”
As Wade and Eddie picked up Sam and dragged him away, Arthur addressed the other prisoners calmly. “If any of you want to halt production of my wall over some fight again, this is exactly what’s going to happen to you. Got it?”
The prisoners nodded, still in a state of shock.
“Good. Now get to work.”
Larry strode forward, brandishing his rifle and stepping over what was left of Brian. “You heard the man. Let’s move.”
The prisoners were herded back to the construction site, where they resumed their work. Arthur walked back to his bike, ready to leave and tackle the hundred other things he had going on that day. Just as he was ready to push off, another one of his men, a wiry gearhead named Neal, appeared from far away, running down the road in a panic. His blue jumpsuit was covered in oil, and his knotted gray hair flew up in the wind, exposing a bald spot.
“Mayor Jenkins!” the man shouted. In his hands he gripped a Winchester hunting rifle.
“What now?” Arthur groaned to himself.
Eddie and Wade were in the process of moving Brian’s body away. The prisoners continued their work, laying brick and cement as though nothing had happened.
“Mayor Jenkins!” Neal continued. “We got visitors!”
His words got the attention of everyone within earshot.
Arthur got off his bike and quickly approached him. “What’s that?”
Neal stopped within a few feet of Arthur, skidding on the sandy pavement.
“Outsiders!” he bellowed.
Arthur noticed the prisoners looking over.
“Keep your voice down,” he said to Neal. He approached closer. “Who’s here? Where are they?”
Neal lowered his voice. “Just a group. One of our lookouts spotted them walking along Main Street.”
The news angered him. “How the hell did they get that far in town without anyone seeing them?”
“I don’t know,” Neal said. “But they’re here.”
“How many?”
“Five or so. I think. Some men. Also women and children in the group. They’re not bandits.”
Arthur looked around and then nodded. “OK. Good work. We need to get over to Main Street ASAP.”
“You want me to round up a team?” Neal asked.
“Just have them ready. I want to greet our visitors first and size them up.”
Neal ran off as Arthur went to speak with his men. Outsiders were problematic to everything he was doing, and he had just the right plan for how to deal with them.
The Hospital
The supply run commenced some thirty minutes after the meeting. Rob drove the pickup truck down US-9W, a largely rural route, into Upper Nyack, where they would park the truck, conceal it, and venture toward the hospital on foot. Mila and Peter sat up front. Brad and Carlos rode in the cab.
They drove past dozens of broken-down vehicles on the road, a stark reminder that not much had changed. The narrow two-lane highway presented its own challenges, but the real danger, Rob believed, existed in the communities taken over by criminal gangs.
With their windows down, the cool breeze of the afternoon air rushed inside. It would be much cooler soon, and they needed more warm clothes and extra blankets to get through the winter.
Among the most important rules of hunkering down was to avoid bringing unnecessary attention to the camp. That meant no fires, no smoke, no shooting, or anything else that would give away their position. Living like ghosts was the only way.
“You know what I’ve been thinking?” Peter said. His arm was resting on the passenger-side window, and although he looked at ease, his voice registered something else. “It’s only a matter of time before we’re attacked.”
“Attacked?” Mila asked. She was in the middle of the vinyl bench seat, and sat up a bit taller. “By what? Another EMP?”
“I’m talking about a full-scale invasion. Now’s the perfect time for any country to take us out. Hell, we already know the Russians did this with the EMP. When are they going to finish the job?”
Rob had heard the Russian theory before. “We don’t know that yet. Nothing has been confirmed.”
Peter scoffed. “And you think they would tell us if it were?”
Mila turned to Rob. “He does have a point, don’t you think?”
Rob kept his eyes fixed on the road. “I don’t believe in coincidences. The EMP was no cosmic fluke. It was an attack. But we still have an air force. A navy. Nuclear weapons.”
“So it’s war, then?” Peter said. “The entire country can’t even turn on a television set right now, and we’re going to mobilize the military for war?”
Rob waved Peter off. The trees were giving way to rural homes and farms on each side. The town wasn’t much farther ahead. “Our biggest problem right now isn’t the Russians. It’s what we face going into town.”
“How bad do you think it’s gotten?” Mila asked
.
Rob kept the wheel steady as they reached a sharp, winding road. “Bad enough for us to be extra careful.”
Peter turned and knocked on the back window to Carlos and Brad.
“You guys OK?” he asked.
Carlos nodded. He was wearing Oakleys and a skullcap, and looked tough. The group, as a whole, dressed in black. A package of green ChemLights rest on top of the dashboard. They would need them soon enough.
For the past few weeks, they had seen small fires burning in the distance and now had passed several homes burnt to the ground. People needed fuel to cook with, stay warm with. Rob expected there would be a lot more burned-out homes once it started snowing.
Mila looked at the map resting on her lap. “There should be a shoulder a mile ahead under a bridge where we can park the truck, about two miles from the hospital.”
Rob had other ideas. If they drove into town, they could get out before it got dark. “Let’s see how far we can go,” he said.
Peter gave Rob a thumbs up. “I have to go with Rob. We’re much safer driving than on foot. Don’t you think?”
“As long as no one tries to ambush us and steal the truck,” Mila answered.
It was settled. They pushed on past the bridge bypass and closer to Nyack.
“Looks like they evacuated the town,” Rob said, looking around at the vacant, desolate homes surrounding them.
They entered a residential area, where grass and weeds sprouted in every direction from thickly overgrown lawns. The arched rooftops of the Victorian-style homes were covered in leaves, twigs, and branches from the shedding trees.
Trash was spread sporadically across the road with large bags, ripped open and rummaged through, blowing in the wind. They passed a crooked sign that said: Speed Limit 30. Power lines seemed reduced to simple eyesores in the suburban ghost town they had just entered. They passed long wooden fences, a mobile home retirement community, and more well-to-do homes, each looking more vacant than the next.
“Maybe they’re all dead,” Rob said.
“Who?” Mila asked.
He looked at her. “Maybe we’re all that’s left.”
No Power: EMP Post Apocalyptic Fiction Thriller Super Boxset Page 78
