“I want to know how it happened. Every. Single. Detail.”
Arthur glared at them. Larry and Jerome sat on one side of the conference table, Dwayne and Nathan on the other. Standing near a window, next to an American flag, was Arthur’s loyal wife, Teresa. She had been taking a more active role in their affairs since the conflict with the mountain people, and she was every bit as shrewd and domineering as her husband.
They were supposed to discuss plans on getting heat into the homes of residents, and to prepare for the risk of house fires, all too common as of late. Instead, they discussed the circumstances surrounding the shooting death of one of their young captives. The boy, Antonio, had been shot trying to escape with another boy, who was later captured. The boy’s death, though not particularly meaningful to Arthur, was a display of incompetence. Arthur moved around the table like a mad general, waiting for answers.
“What were the boys even doing outside in the first place?” Arthur held his hands out. “It-it’s unconscionable.”
Larry cleared his throat. “From what I heard, they told Jasper that they wanted to talk to you. Had information to tell you about their parents.”
“Oh!” Arthur said in a mocking tone. “I suppose if the boys had told Jasper to make them a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, he would have gotten right on it, right?”
Larry looked at Jerome, who then looked at Dwayne. All men were at a loss for words. Teresa stepped forward and continued the questioning. “What the mayor is saying is that we’re all very aware of what happened. What we want to know is why it happened.”
“It’s like we said,” Nathan cut in. “I mean, Jasper isn’t exactly the sharpest drill in the toolbox, but he means well.”
“He means well?” Arthur hissed.
“He made a mistake,” Nathan said.
“Let me explain something here,” Arthur said. “Those kids are high-value commodities. Any day now, our friends in the mountains are going to come here and try to rescue them. But we don’t have much leverage with dead kids, now do we?”
Arthur strode to the front of the table and stopped. “We’re damn lucky it wasn’t Rob’s son. Either way, we’re looking at an all-out war over this.”
“Why not just finish what we started?” Jerome asked in his low, baritone voice. “What else is there to talk about?”
Arthur closed his eyes and sighed. “I don’t want them dead—I want them taken to the steps of the town hall and made to kneel before me as though I was their king. That’s what I want!”
“We need to just kill the bastards,” Larry said. “We’re playing with fire here, and your damn ego is blinding you to the fact.”
Arthur turned away without saying a word. The room went uncomfortably silent.
“Larry…” Teresa began.
“That’s quite all right, dear. Larry has a point,” Arthur said. He slowly turned to face the room. “My eyes are more open than ever. You fools know how to pillage a town, sure, but you know nothing of wielding permanent power.” He took a wide stance and clasped his hands in front of his chest. “These are the times we live in. And you better start thinking in the long term. The shooting of one of their kids puts everything at risk. It gives our enemies the high ground. We want to use the threat of violence against their children but not actually carry it out. If you gentlemen can’t understand that, then you are in dire need of some political perspective.”
Arthur stared them down, and no one seemed sure how to respond. The convicts who made up his trusted freemen inner-circle, they were dangerous men. They could easily kill him if they wanted to. But for some reason, they neither desired nor planned such a move. Arthur brought stability to the table, controlled anarchy, and they respected him for it.
“I want Jasper taken off guard duty. Put him on the wall and make an example of him,” Arthur said.
“Whoa,” Nathan said. “Jasper was my cellmate. I’m not about to send him up the river like that. He’s earned his way, just like the rest of us. You reduce him to a prisoner working on that damn wall of yours, it’ll crush him.”
Arthur shook his head. “Well, I’d hate to hurt the man’s feelings, but that’s what’s going to happen.”
Nathan balled his fist and jumped up from his chair, startling everyone. Teresa backed against the window as Nathan’s nostrils flared. “Do you hear me? I’m not going to let that happen to him. Period!”
Arthur remained calm. “If it bothers you so much, Nathan, you can join him.”
Nathan looked shocked, glancing at his fellow convicts, but their eyes were cast downward. “Go to hell yourself, Mr. Mayor. I think I’ve had enough of your shit.” He pulled a pistol out from his side holster and aimed it right between Arthur’s eyes.
“Nathan! Dude. You lost your mind?” Jerome said.
Arthur leaned back and crossed his arms, staring at the pistol. “What are you doing?”
“Something we should have done a long time ago.” He held the pistol steady. Arthur said nothing. Nathan then heard a click behind him.
“How about you stop pointing your gun at my husband,” Teresa said, pushing her pistol against his skull.
Nathan froze. Arthur shrugged and nodded. “I think you better do what she says, Tex.”
The standoff was interrupted by the sound of a car engine from outside, growing closer by the moment. Everyone stopped to listen. Nathan lowered his pistol. “What the hell?” he shouted.
Teresa backed up and went to the window to look out. They were on the second story and had a good, long view. Arthur listened as the engine grew louder, then he turned and joined Teresa at the window as the other men rose from their chairs. Then they all rushed over to join Teresa and Arthur. The window overlooked Main Street. They could see two vehicles driving fast down the road, toward the town hall. The lead car was a small red Datsun with a driver and passenger. An old four-door Jeep Cherokee followed. It was tan, with side wood panels and a rack on top.
As they rapidly approached, they gained the attention of everyone within earshot. People stopped in their tracks and stood with their mouths agape. Even the armed freemen didn’t seem to know how to respond. The men at the wall stopped working. Arthur leaned closer, trying to get a better look at who the driver in the red car was. A trail of thick, black exhaust billowed from the Cherokee. They both looked to be very old cars—relics of another time and place. Something from the 1970s or 80s. Arthur’s initial panic subsided when he began to make some connections. Older vehicles, so it appeared, were immune from the effects of the electromagnetic pulses that had destroyed the circuitry of most modern vehicles. That would explain their own military cargo truck working. That would explain why Rob and his prepper friends in the mountains did in fact have vehicles. His instincts told him as much.
He turned from the window and slammed his fist against the wall. He was angry at himself for not having put it together sooner. And that wasn’t all.
“What the hell is happening here? How did they get in?”
Larry and Nathan turned to him, stunned and unable to answer.
“What good are fucking walls when anyone can just roll in here in some clunker from the seventies?” Arthur shouted.
“I don’t know what happened,” Dwayne said, shrugging his shoulders. “We’ve got men posted on each entrance into town.”
Arthur stepped forward again, glaring out the window. The two cars sped past stunned onlookers and desolate and pillaged shops along the street. Armed freemen stood on the sidewalks, gazing as the vehicles shuttled past them, too astonished, it seemed, to shoot. The sight of complete strangers riding downtown Main Street brought the entire town to a halt. Townspeople and freemen alike began running after the vehicles as they headed toward Town Hall.
“It’s them!” Arthur shouted. For the first time in a long time, he felt completely taken by surprise. “Son of a bitch!”
Teresa walked away from the window and followed Arthur as he strode back into the room in a panic.
Arthur nodded and pulled Teresa close. Tires screeched outside.
“Holy shit!” Larry said from the window. “One of them just pulled right up to the steps of Town Hall.”
They heard a loud crash. The men at the window stood wide-eyed and in disbelief.
“Damn! That crazy dude in the Jeep just took out a bench!”
Arthur released Teresa and ran back to the window, pushing his way through. The Datsun was parked crookedly at the base of the concrete steps leading into Town Hall. Black skid marks defined its path from the road to the sidewalk. The Jeep was parked in a square of mulch and weeds, having just uprooted a nearby bench from the ground. Neither driver had exited his vehicle yet. Smoke seeped from under the hoods of both vehicles. A growing crowd was headed in their direction, huddled into one mass mob.
“Here comes trouble,” Larry said, pointing to the advancing crowd.
“Shit’s gettin’ real down there,” Jerome said.
The doors of both vehicles opened. A man and a woman exited the Datsun, and a man and another woman stepped out of the Cherokee. There were four people in all, and Arthur zeroed in on the Datsun driver—a dark-haired man with a thick stubble on his face, wearing a red flannel shirt and blue jeans. The mountain people were back, and they had brought their fearless leader.
Arthur stepped away and looked at his men. “We better get down there before the town tears them apart. Make sure you’re locked and loaded.”
The men nodded and followed Arthur out of the room, hustling along the way. Teresa remained, studying the scene outside as the sound of their clattering footsteps faded.
***
Finding a way into town had been difficult for Rob’s team. Most routes had been blocked by concrete walls ten to twelve feet high. Remaining unseen was an even greater challenge. Rob knew that Arthur’s men were everywhere, most likely on high alert. Rob drove his Datsun with Mila while Carlos followed in Brad’s ’75 Jeep Cherokee.
Rob’s 9mm handgun rested at his side, while Mila’s revolver was hidden in her knee-high boots. The rural two-lane road ahead was a blanket of uncertainty. All the old road signs to Nyack had been torn down and replaced with makeshift signs with the town’s new name, “Tartarus.” It was a reminder of how badly things had gone since the EMP.
Brad, Mayra, and Elliot had taken Elliot’s truck, traveling a different path, where they could get into town undetected. Their plan was to park out of sight and climb the wall. The target: town hall. Their concealed rooftop positions would give them a vantage point of Main Street—where Rob and the others were heading.
Rob’s hands were steady at the wheel. Carlos was a few car-lengths behind them. A large wall made of brick and cinder block was within view.
Rob picked up his handheld radio and called Carlos. “Bear with us. We’ve got to find a way in.”
“Got it,” Carlos said.
“I’m worried about Elliot,” Mila said. “He wasn’t looking well. His age concerns me.”
Rob waved her off. “He’s a veteran, First Cavalry Division. One of our best shots.”
“I know,” Mila said, “but still—”
They turned right down a road that ran parallel with the wall, looking for any kind of opening.
Mila marveled at the concrete spectacle as it passed by their window in a blur. “How did they build this so quickly?” she asked.
“Forced labor,” Rob said. “I think it’s pretty obvious.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Mila said.
They continued past several vacant and vandalized two-story colonial homes on the outskirts of town when Rob spotted an opening in the wall—a large gap where construction was still taking place. There looked to be no one around, only some unattended wheelbarrows, ladders, and shovels. Rob picked up his radio. “We’re going in.”
He moved into the left lane and drove up a grass-covered hill leading to the gap in the wall as Carlos trailed behind them.
Mila gripped her passenger-door handle as Rob passed the wall and swerved around all the tools and equipment on the bumpy ground. Down the hill, a road was ahead.
“We can do this,” Rob said as they hit the road, taking a turn into the nearest neighborhood. “Just need to be ready for anything.”
They jetted past a stop sign and continued down the road between lines of homes where stunned faces watched them from windows. Their arrival was no longer a secret, and things would only get worse.
Rob held the radio and spoke. “We’re gonna take Main Street straight to Town Hall, got it?”
“Ten-four,” Carlos said.
“You okay back there?”
“Yeah,” Carlos said.
“Time to do this,” Rob said. He then looked at Mila. “Let’s hope for the best.”
Main Street wasn’t far—a little over a mile ahead. Rob sped as more townspeople began walking out of homes, taking notice. They looked like zombies—malnourished and wired. What had happened to them? Rob could only assume.
“Brad, you there?” he said into the radio, hoping they found their positions.
A few static-filled moments were followed by Brad’s voice. “Yeah, I’m here here.”
“You make it in yet?” Rob asked.
Brad grunted. “Yeah. Just over the wall. About to take positions now.”
“Okay. We’re close to Main Street. It’s go time.”
“Got it,” Brad said.
Rob set down the radio and placed his hand in Mila’s, bracing her.
A quick turn on Main Street, and he floored it. The Datsun rattled over a stretch of cobblestone road. Faces turned to them from all around. Men with guns just stood aside, confused. Rob zoomed past them. People began following the two-car convoy down Main Street. Mila unfastened her seatbelt and got ready.
The old town hall building was in the distance—complete with an empty fountain, benches, and steps that led up to the entrance. Wind flowed through the car as Rob picked up speed. No one had fired at them since they entered the main drag, even though many of the onlookers were armed. The plan, so far, was working. They sped past nonfunctioning traffic lights. The street had been completely cleared of other vehicles. Rob’s own shop was only a few blocks away, but he had no immediate interest in seeing it. They had come for one reason only.
“All teams be ready!” Rob said into the radio.
He gripped the steering wheel and jerked it to the left, causing the Datsun to screech across the road and fishtail onto the sidewalk, inches from the steps. The smell of burnt rubber filled the air. They slid to a complete halt just as the Jeep Cherokee rushed past them and crashed through a bench, sending wooden slats and metal braces flying. Both vehicles had stopped. Rob shut off the engine and looked behind them. A mob of people was heading their way—lacking only fire and pitchforks.
Rob and Mila looked at each other, ready to jump out of the smoking car. Rob went first and pushed the door open with his foot. Mila jumped out and ran over to him, where she handed him his radio—all part of the plan. As the mob closed in, they put their hands in the air, surrendering.
Carlos tumbled out of the Cherokee and regained his balance. The front end of the jeep was dented. Smoke billowed from under the hood. He stood next to Rob and Mila and mimicked their stance.
Rob lowered one of his hands and spoke into the small handheld. “All teams, it’s on. Lemme know if you’re good.”
“I’m good,” Brad said.
“Me too,” Mayra answered.
“I’m ready,” Elliot said.
“Great,” Rob said. “Just remember your signals.”
Hollers from the advancing crowd grew
more threatening. Men with guns vaulted ahead and circled them, but their hands were already up. A cold chill swept through the air. Rob, Carlos, and Mayra pressed their backs against each other, ready to enact the first phase of their plan.
The Trade-off
“Hold it right there!” Arthur shouted, walking down the steps and flanked by two armed men on both sides, their rifles aimed. He wore tan fatigues and a black beret—different for him. Rob faced the mayor directly as fifteen men circled them rabidly with weapons aimed and ready.
“Search them!” a red-haired bulldog of a man ordered the others. They patted Rob and each person in his group down, snatching the radio in Rob’s hand. The group kept their hands high in the air. Rob’s heart raced. There was no going back.
Arthur smiled in amusement as he reached the bottom of the stairs, only a few feet from Rob, his great nemesis. Townspeople gathered around—men, women, and children with despondent faces and vapid stares. Arthur raised his arms, urging restraint. He studied his unexpected guests with pure wonder.
“I must say, I’m surprised that you decided to barge into my town like this.”
“We came here to negotiate,” Rob said. He scanned the area, looking for sympathetic faces. “We’re not here to fight. Enough blood has been spilled already.”
“We certainly agree.” Arthur paused and turned to one of his men. “How many did we lose? Thirty? Forty?”
“Think it was more in the twenties,” the man replied.
Arthur whipped his head around to face Rob’s group. “That’s still a lot.” He stepped closer, pulled a pistol from his side, and placed it square against Rob’s head. Mila screamed. The growing crowd gasped. Rob squeezed his eyes shut.
Arthur continued. “Some might say that an eye for an eye doesn’t begin to cut it as far as you folks are concerned.” He lowered the 9mm Sig Sauer. Rob opened his eyes. Arthur then moved from him, stopped at Mila, and pressed the barrel against her head, causing her to wince and cry out.
No Power: EMP Post Apocalyptic Fiction Thriller Super Boxset Page 92
