No Power: EMP Post Apocalyptic Fiction Thriller Super Boxset

by J. S. Donvan Donvan

  The shouts from the bikers were getting closer. She didn’t know where to go. She didn’t know where to hide. She took her sisters and ran into the tall grass as far as she could and then dropped to the ground, pulling both of her sisters with her.

  The grass was thick. Mary couldn’t see anything around her or between the tall brown and green blades. She kept her hand over Erin’s mouth to silence her sobs.

  “Do you see them?”

  “They’re not in the buildings.”

  “Where’d they run off to?”

  “Check the grass.”

  Mary brought her finger to her lips. She hushed them both quietly. All three of their bodies were shaking. Mary covered her own mouth with her hand; afraid she might give away their spot. The voices of the bikers taunted them.

  “Come out come out wherever you are.”

  “We’re not going to hurt you.”

  “Yeah, why don’t you come out to play?”

  Mary could hear the movement of grass being swept aside and the steps of their boots on the blades, rocks, and dirt. All of a sudden she could see the grass move and then…

  “Hey!” a distant voice shouted.

  “What?”

  The biker’s foot was only twelve inches away from Mary’s face. She looked up, but couldn’t see the man’s face through the blades of grass.

  “Jake wants everybody back now. Quit jackin off over there and head to the motel.”

  “All right.”

  The grass shifted, but stopped as the sound of the biker’s steps faded away from her. Mary kept her hand over her and Erin’s mouth for a few more minutes until she was sure she they were gone.

  Mary rolled onto her back. The grass scratched against her exposed arms and legs. Erin crawled up next to her and Nancy’s breathing was quick as she hyperventilated.

  “Mary,” she said.

  “Yeah.”

  “What do we do now? Where do we go?”

  Erin rested her head on Mary’s chest. Mary had her eyes closed and could feel the warm sun shining down on her. Her body felt tired, expended.

  “Let’s just lie here a few more minutes,” Mary said.

  Chapter 8: Day 9 (Mike’s Journey)

  The airport terminal was stuffy, and the springs in Mike’s cot squeaked when he rolled over. It smelled like a musty towel, but it beat lying on the ground. He pushed himself off the cot and rested his boots on the floor. He’d slept with his shoes on ever since the fire at his house.

  Nelson and Sean were still sleeping on their cots and the To family, Fay, and Tom were sound asleep as well.

  Mike lighted a candle and weaved around the cots toward the kitchen door. He pulled his pocket watch out, running his fingers along the smooth surface before he opened it, checking the time. 7a.m. The watch snapped shut and he quietly pushed the door open and headed toward the front to meet Clarence.

  Clarence sat crouched behind one of the check-in counters. He leaned up against the wall with a rifle over his lap. Whoever was on watch could see the entire front of the airport and could stay well hidden from the vantage point he had chosen.

  “How was your shift?” Mike asked.

  “Quiet. One guy walked by, but never came in.”

  “What would you have done if he had?”

  “I… I don’t know.”

  Mike could see the struggle on his face. It was something Mike had experienced himself, back in his neighborhood. He tried helping. He tried giving advice, but it fell against deaf ears. When the people around you begging for help resort to strangling you, it’s time to fight back. Mike hoped that it wouldn’t come to that for Clarence.

  “The longer this goes on the more desperate people will become,” Mike said.

  “I know.”

  Mike watched Clarence fumble the rifle awkwardly in his hands.

  “You know I’ve never even fired one of these things before,” Clarence said.

  “You haven’t?”

  “Firearm training isn’t a part of the TSA program.”

  Mike grabbed the rifle. He flipped it on its side exposing the safety lever and making sure it was clicked on and pointed away from them.

  “Rule number one when handling guns. Never point it at another person unless you’re ready to pull the trigger.”

  Mike brought the rifle up to his shoulder and peered through the sights, scanning the front of the building.

  “When you aim you always want to bring the gun to your eyes, not the other way around. When you’re handling a rifle or shotgun keep the butt of the gun firmly tucked against your shoulder. It’ll help with the recoil when you fire. When it’s time to shoot, you want to squeeze the trigger. Don’t pull it,” Mike said.

  Mike handed the gun back to Clarence. Mike watched him keep the end of the barrel away from the two of them and he brought the rifle up to his shoulder.

  “And know where the safety is. You don’t want to be in a situation where you forget it’s on and when you go to squeeze the trigger nothing happens,” Mike said.

  Clarence’s thumb found the lever on the side of the rifle and flicked the safety off. He put his finger on the trigger.

  “Wait,” Mike said.

  Clarence lowered the rifle, taking his hand off the trigger.

  “Rule number two: never put your finger on the trigger unless you’re ready to fire. Just keep your finger extended beyond the trigger until you’re ready to shoot,” Mike said.

  “Right,” Clarence said.

  Mike grabbed the rifle out of Clarence’s hand and clicked the safety back on. He threw the rifle strap over his shoulder and clapped Clarence on the back.

  “We’ll take it out back for target practice after breakfast,” Mike said.

  “You’ve taught people to shoot before?”

  Mike paused, trying to overcome the lump forming in his throat.

  “Yes.”

  ***

  Tom and Fay gathered the empty wrappers and cans from breakfast and threw them in the garbage, which was overflowing.

  “It’s your turn to take it out,” Tom said.

  “Fine,” Fay replied.

  Fay tied the open ends of the trash bag together and lifted it out of the can. The bag caught on a crack in the can and split open, dumping trash all over the floor.

  “Goddamnit,” Fay yelled.

  Tom laughed. Walking back through the kitchen, his laughter echoing through the food court.

  Fay threw up a middle finger. She picked up the pieces of trash and dumped them back into the can. Once the mess was cleaned up she dragged the can to the front of the airport.

  The can slid across the pavement until she reached the dumpster on the side of the building. She placed the can right next to it, and just then heard a gunshot go off. She immediately ducked for cover.

  “Shit,” she murmured.

  She glanced around looking for the source of the shot, keeping her head covered. She squinted further down the tarmac and saw Clarence, rifle in hand with Mike behind him, aiming at something in the distance.

  Fay covered her ears as the gunshots continued to ring out. She walked to them and could see that both Mike and Clarence had ear protection on. She screamed their names and when that didn’t work she threw an empty soup can at them. She hit Mike square in the back.

  Mike took the earpieces off. Clarence clicked the safety on and leaned the rifle up against his shoulder.

  “What the hell are you two doing?” Fay asked.

  “Mike’s teaching me how to shoot,” Clarence said.

  “He’s pretty good,” Mike said.

  “Well, it took me a couple tries, but I finally got one.”

  Fay walked up to them and saw a row of soup cans set up thirty yards away on top of a luggage carrier.

  “You really think this is a good idea? I thought we weren’t supposed to bring attention to ourselves,” Fay said.

  “Most people run away from gunshots, not toward them,” Mike said.

  Fa
y grabbed the earpiece off Clarence’s head.

  “Where’d you get these?” Fay asked.

  “Found them in the ground control locker rooms,” Clarence said.

  “Can I try?” Fay asked.

  “Sure,” Mike said.

  Fay put the earpieces on and Mike grabbed the rifle from Clarence. He showed her how to hold it and gave her the same advice he’d given to Clarence.

  Fay brought the rifle up to her eyes. She kept the stock snug against her shoulder. Her finger hovered until she finally rested it gently over the trigger. The sights along the end of the rifle shook slightly as she tried to balance the gun. Once the gun felt steady she lined up her shot, squeezed the trigger, and the can went flying.

  “Shit,” Clarence said.

  “Nice shot. You’re a natural,” Mike said.

  “What?” Fay screamed.

  Mike patted her on the shoulder and gave her a thumb up. She smiled and then noticed the crowd behind her. Everyone had gathered outside. They were all looking at her and cheering. Fay’s smile slowly faded. She handed the rifle back to Mike and took her ear protection off.

  “Where are you going’?” Clarence asked.

  Fay ignored him. She ran between Jung and Jenna and headed for the side door, which led her to the food court. Once she was inside she sat on her cot, her shoulder feeling the strain from the recoil of the rifle.

  Clarence walked in behind her, panting from the short jog he made running after her.

  “What was that about?” he asked.

  “Do we have any more Ibuprofen?” Fay asked.

  “I think so, but, Fay, why’d you leave like that?”

  “Where is it? I don’t want my shoulder to be too sore.”

  “Fay.”

  “What?”

  Fay’s voice was harsh, accusing. She saw the open look of apology across Clarence’s face. He held his hands out and sat down on the cot next to her.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine.”

  “It was a lucky shot. That’s all.”

  “That’s why you ran? Because you hit the can?”

  “No.”

  “Then why’d you take off like that?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Fay…”

  “I don’t want to talk about it!”

  Fay bolted from the cot, leaving Clarence by himself. She ran through the food court and past the check-in desks by the front entrance of the airport, her feet carrying her to the other side of the airport. She ran around security ropes and jumped over fallen displays until there wasn’t anywhere left to run. She leaned her hands up against the wall, her chest heaving, trying to catch her breath.

  She spun around and slammed her back against the wall and slid down. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and rested her head against her knees.

  ***

  Mike dropped small amounts of oil along the tip of the barrel then wiped it down with a rag. Nelson watched Mike’s movements. They were precise, rhythmic.

  “What do we do now?” Nelson asked.

  “We leave tomorrow. I can’t afford to stay here another day,” Mike said.

  “But what about these people?”

  “Nelson, the cabin was built for me and my family. It can hold five people at the most. Bringing you and Sean along with me is already pushing it. I can’t show up with another seven people.”

  “These people helped us. They fed us. Took us in.”

  “These people stayed here and hoarded as much food as they could.”

  “But they said they’re leaving soon too. Why don’t we ask where they’re going? Maybe it’s better than the cabin?”

  “My family isn’t wherever it is they’re going. My family is at the cabin. If you want to go with them you’re more than welcome, but tomorrow morning I’m leaving with or without you and Sean. End of discussion.”

  Mike finished wiping down the rifle and slung it over his shoulder. He walked back into the food court through the side door. Jung and Jenna To were watching their two children play when he walked in. Jung saw him and made a beeline for him.

  “Mike,” he said.

  “I’m busy,” Mike said, grabbing one of the lanterns from the Burger King counter.

  “Please, wait.”

  Jung put his hand on Mike’s chest stopping him and blocking his path.

  “Let my family come with you,” Jung said.

  “Jung, I don’t have anywhere for your family to go.”

  “The cabin, right? You’re going to the cabin?”

  Nelson.

  “Look, Jung, whatever it is you think I can help you with I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t,” Mike said and then moved to the side and ran past him.

  Jung caught up with him as Mike headed back to the weapons depot where Clarence had shown him the rifles.

  “We were heading back home to China when everything stopped working.”

  “Isn’t your wife American? Doesn’t she have family here?”

  “She does, but they’re in Florida. We were here on vacation.”

  “You wanted to go vacation in Pittsburgh?”

  “New York. We were here as part of a layover.”

  The deeper they went into the airport the darker it became. Mike flicked on the lantern. The flame ignited casting an orange glow around the two of them and lighting their path.

  Clarence and the rest of the group hadn’t ventured into the dark portions of the airport because of the bodies. When they came out of the TSA security room after the rioting started they searched for supplies, and the only thing they found deep within the terminals were corpses.

  You could barely see them in the darkness, but the smell was overpowering. The rotting flesh baking for the past week in the unventilated, un-air conditioned depths of the airport sent a fowl stench in the air. The sour, bitter musk hit you like a brick wall.

  By the time Mike and Jung reached the weapons holding both of them were gagging, covering their noses and mouth with their shirts, but it did no good.

  The inside of the weapons holding was practically barren when they checked it earlier. Most of the weapons had been picked over, but a few rifles, a stack of boxes with ammunition, and a cleaning kit still remained.

  “Grab those rifles over there,” Mike said.

  “Mike, please. My family can’t stay here. If there was help coming it would have been here by now. If we can’t get somewhere safe we’ll end up like those people out there.”

  The lantern swung in Mike’s grip. The light danced across Jung’s face, which was filled with desperation, a look he’d seen too often over the past week.

  “You pull your weight, each of you. Everyone has a job. No one gets special treatment. Understand?”

  Jung nodded.

  “Good. Now, grab the rifles.

  ***

  The To family, Nelson, Sean, Tom, Clarence, and Mike sat around one of the tables in the food court. The sun had gone down and they were swallowing down cans of ham and black beans. Fay was on watch.

  Mike chose to tell the rest of the group about the cabin. They all jumped at the chance. Mike instructed each of them to pack enough food and supplies for a two-day walk. Everyone dumped any luggage they had and immediately started packing.

  “After we leave in the morning it’ll be important for us not to stop. I want to make sure we get there as quickly and safely as possible,” Mike said.

  “Will it really take two days?” Tom asked.

  “Yes, and it could take more if anything slows us down,” Mike answered.

  “What’s it like out there now?” Jenna asked.

  “The road? Dangerous,” Mike answered.

  “Do you think we’ll get mugged like you and Nelson?” Clarence asked.

  “Not if we stay smart,” Mike answered.

  “Guys, we’ll be fine. Mike knows what he’s doing. Trust me,” Nelson said.

  Trust h
im. Mike looked at the faces staring at him and a pang of guilt shot through him. The last time he helped people they turned against him and separated him from his family. He wasn’t going to let a gang of bandits stand between him and his family ever again. If it came down to it he would sacrifice the lot of them to reach his family.