No Power: EMP Post Apocalyptic Fiction Thriller Super Boxset

by J. S. Donvan Donvan

  “That’s the last of it,” Nelson said.

  Ken followed Nelson back inside. When Nelson grabbed the rifle from Ray and threw his arm around his shoulders to steady him, Ken aimed his rifle at the two of them.

  “What are you doing?” Nelson asked.

  “Slide the rifle over to me,” Ken said.

  “You son of a bitch,” Ray said.

  “No hard feelings, boys, but I couldn’t just let all of these supplies go to waste, not after the bikers finish off the rest of your group.”

  “We don’t even know if they’re dead or not. They could still be alive,” Nelson said.

  “The gang wiped out the whole town. They killed everyone. Your people walked into a meat grinder. They’re not coming back,” Ken said.

  “What about your deal with Mike?” Nelson asked.

  “I was going to kill him tomorrow, but it looks like the bikers saved me some trouble.”

  “You can’t do this.”

  “I can.”

  If Ken was going to kill them, then what would happen to Nelson’s family? He just got his wife back, and now he was going to lose her. His son would probably suffer the same fate as him.

  He couldn’t let that happen, not after everything they’d been through, not after they were finally together again.

  “Well, get it over with then,” Ray said.

  Nelson looked down. The rifle rested at his feet. The butt of the gun faced him and was slightly elevated off the ground. By the time Ken realized what Nelson was thinking, it was too late.

  Nelson kicked the rifle up and sent it flying toward Ken, who dodged out of the way and fired in their direction, hitting Ray in the shoulder. Nelson pushed both of them to the floor and reached for the revolver in his pocket.

  When Ken got up, Nelson fired a few rounds, missing Ken completely, but it caused Ken to retreat down the hall, looking for cover. It gave Nelson and Ray enough time to crawl and drag their way through the kitchen.

  If Nelson could get to the back door and make it in the woods, then they might have a chance. Nelson gave Ray the pistol.

  “I’ll pull, you shoot,” Nelson said.

  Nelson grabbed Ray by his shoulders and pulled him through the dirt toward the trees. Ken appeared in the doorway, and Ray squeezed a few rounds off.

  The kitchen window’s glass shattered, and Ken shoved his rifle through the opening, firing shots in their direction.

  Nelson gave one last heave and pulled both he and Ray behind a tree, shielding themselves from the barrage of bullets splintering the oak’s trunk.

  Ray kept reaching for his leg, wincing. When Nelson tried to adjust the splint, Ray screamed and smacked his hand away.

  “Sorry,” Nelson said.

  Ray’s breath was labored. Nelson didn’t know what to do. There was no way he could drag Ray through the woods, not in the condition he was in.

  “Just go,” Ray said.

  “What?”

  “I’ll hold him off as long as I can.”

  “Ray, I’m not going to leave you here.”

  “If you don’t go and warn Mike, then his family’s going to die, if they haven’t killed them already.”

  Ray pushed Nelson backward, pointing for him to run. Another spray of bullets peppered the tree behind them.

  “You’re not being a coward for leaving me here, Nelson. This is my choice. Now, go,” Ray said.

  Nelson grabbed Ray’s hand and squeezed tight.

  “Good luck,” Nelson said.

  “You, too.”

  Ray gave Nelson some cover fire as he disappeared deeper into the woods then checked the revolver, seeing how many bullets he had left.

  Two.

  He knew his fate the moment he chose to stay behind. Ken had an unlimited supply of ammo within an arm’s reach, and Ray couldn’t hobble more than a few feet without crashing to the ground. He was a sitting duck.

  “Hey!” Ray shouted.

  The firing ceased. Ray pushed himself off the ground with his good leg, using the tree trunk to help give him leverage. His leg felt like it was going to explode.

  “You go back on your deals that quick?” Ray asked.

  Gunfire blasted the tree again. Ray ducked, trying to shield himself from the ricochet.

  “Guess so,” Ray mumbled.

  After a moment, everything was silent. Ray aimed the pistol at the cabin, switching targets between the door and the kitchen window, but he couldn’t see Ken.

  “Drop it,” Ken said.

  Ray froze. The pistol hit the ground and he put his hands in the air.

  “Where’d he go?” Ken asked.

  Ray said nothing. He wouldn’t let his last breaths in life betray the people who helped him.

  “You think I’m a bad man, don’t you?” Ken asked.

  “I think you’re a coward.”

  Ken laughed.

  “You people. In all of your self-righteous bullshit you think that the act of sacrifice is so noble, that we should all elevate ourselves to your level. Well, this is what you get for your noble deeds.”

  The barrel of the gun pressed firmly against Ray’s forehead. It was hot, burning a circle into his skin. Ray didn’t move; whatever pain Ken would put him through he wasn’t going to give him any satisfaction of showing that he was hurting.

  “Surviving without a soul isn’t living,” Ray said.

  “Neither is having a bullet in your brain.”

  Ken squeezed the trigger, and Ray’s body hit the ground.

  Chapter 11: Night of Day 13 (the Town)

  Mike wheezed; the pain in his side was sharp. He stood above his father’s body. There were bits of bone and splashes of blood strewn around Ulysses’s head where the bullet entered and left.

  The gun Ulysses used on himself lay by his side. His eyes were still open, staring up into the night sky.

  Nothing seemed real at that moment. This town Mike was in couldn’t exist. That wasn’t his father dead on the ground. This wasn’t his broken body he was trapped in. That wasn’t his daughter who was almost beaten to death. This wasn’t his life.

  “Mike?” Sam asked.

  The graveyard where his mother was buried had an empty spot right next to her. That’s where his father should be right now. He wanted to take him home, away from this hell he died in.

  “Mike, we need to get you checked out. Your daughter’s over at the pharmacy,” Sam said.

  “What?”

  “Your daughter.”

  “Right.”

  He couldn’t dwell on the pain he was feeling now. His daughter was still alive. He still had a family to protect. He still had a job to do.

  The town felt quiet after the gunfight. There wasn’t any motion in the town now. At one point in time this place was filled with people enjoying their lives, people with a purpose.

  When the biker gang came through, all of that was replaced with fear and death. Now that the bikers were gone, the town was filled with neither fear nor purpose. It was just there, a shell of what it used to be, frozen in time.

  Mike’s Jeep was still flipped on its side. On the sidewalk next to it Jung rocked Jenna back and forth in his arms. Mike could see the pain on his face, and when he thought to himself that whatever pain Jung received was justified, he felt no guilt.

  Most of the pharmacy was barren. The bikers had come through like locusts, pillaging the stores, stealing supplies, destroying what they wanted.

  Kalen sifted through the bottles and supplies thrown on the ground. When Mike walked in, she turned around.

  The only thing worse than seeing his daughter beaten and bloody was the knowledge of what she had seen. He knew the bruises would fade, the bones would mend, and the wounds would close, but the violence she’d been exposed to, witnessing evil in its most terrible forms and letting it become a part of you… that was a scar that would leave its mark for a very, very long time.

  Mike picked up a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a bag of cotton balls. He led
Kalen over to the counter. She hopped on top of it. Mike dumped some of the peroxide onto the cotton ball.

  Kalen winced when the peroxide made contact. Mike ran the cotton ball gently along the cuts on her face.

  “I’m sorry, Dad,” Kalen said.

  “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not. Grandpa’s dead, you’re hurt, everyone is hurt. I shouldn’t have come here. It was stupid.”

  Mike knew whatever words left his mouth now would have a deciding factor in the type of life his daughter would have moving forward. He knew the guilt she was feeling. It was a guilt that could consume her life, send her into a spiral that she wouldn’t be able to come out of.

  “You came here because of what these people did. You stood up to those who tried to hurt you and the people you care about,” Mike said.

  “Your dad’s right,” Mary said.

  Mike hadn’t seen her when he entered. He couldn’t make out the features on her face, but the tone of her voice made her sound older than she was.

  “Whatever we lost today, we gained more by not having that gang here anymore. All of them deserved to die,” Mary said.

  “When someone pushes you to the brink of killing, when it comes down to your survival or the survival of your family, then you do what you have to do,” Mike said. “No repentance.”

  Kalen nodded and leaned into his chest. He hoped the words reached her. It would take time, he knew that, for her to accept it, but he wanted it to be sooner rather than later.

  Sam helped patch them up as best he could. Most of the injuries would heal over time. When Sam checked Mike out he agreed that one of the ribs punctured a lung, but only time would tell how bad it really was.

  Jung was still on the sidewalk, his children on either side of him. His kids were crying, but he wasn’t.

  Mike wanted to hurt him, even more than the pain he was going through right now. All of those talks Mike had with Jung about trusting people, about having faith, were all erased by what he did.

  Ulysses always taught Mike that he needed to have something to stand for; he needed a line in the sand. Every man did. That value was your guiding path, and no matter what, you never went back on it.

  And that was exactly what Jung did. The line in the sand he so proudly towed, all of it was a lie.

  “Mike,” Jung said, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  Mike said nothing. He simply turned his back and started the long walk back to the cabin.

  “You’re just going to leave them here?” Sam asked.

  “Yes.”

  “What about the kids?”

  Mike knew what type of fate he would be leaving them to, but that was his line in the sand. He wouldn’t sacrifice the safety of his family for the well-being of others.

  “It’s a father’s job to protect his children. That’s his responsibility. Not mine,” Mike said.

  Before Mike left, he wanted to bury Ulysses. He grabbed some shovels from the hardware store and picked a spot on the edge of town by the tall grass. Sam helped him dig the grave, and once they were six feet down, he wrapped his father’s body in a tarp and carried him to the spot. This was as close to a funeral as there was going to be.

  “My father was a good man. He loved his family, his work, and the Pittsburgh Pirates,” Mike said.

  Everyone gave a slight smile.

  “He was a man who always stood up for what he believed in, no matter the cost. He couldn’t be bribed, threatened, or beaten into anything he didn’t want to do. In his last moments on Earth, he held true to that belief that he was in control of everything he did. He had a choice, and he made the choice to keep his family safe,” Mike said.

  The tears started to flow now. All of the memories of his childhood, being with his father, collided with the reality that he’d never see his dad again. He would no longer be able to ask him for advice, to hear his words of comfort and wisdom when he needed them most. A pillar in Mike’s life was struck down, and for the first time he wondered whether he would be able to go on.

  “I never knew, or will ever know, a better man, husband, or father than my dad,” Mike said.

  The first tear that hit the dirt was followed by a rain that Mike couldn’t stop. He’d never cried like this before. Each sob was a stab digging into his heart.

  Kalen came over and wrapped her arms around him. Mike clutched his daughter and held her tight. Just as he had held her earlier, she was holding him now.

  Sam began shoveling the dirt back into the hole. After Mike composed himself, he picked up the other shovel and helped.

  They packed the dirt tight. Mary picked some flowers she found along the side of the road and arranged a small bouquet. She laid them down on the fresh mound of dirt.

  “Okay,” Mike said. “Let’s gather up any weapons and ammo we can find. Grab anything that’s high quality or in good condition. Sam, do you know how to ride a motorcycle?”

  “I had one when I was in the Rangers.”

  “Good. If we can’t get the Jeep running, we’ll take the bikes back to the cabin.”

  “Nelson?” Sam asked.

  Mike turned around and saw a man running down the highway toward them. His arms flailed wildly at his sides, and his legs wobbled.

  Nelson collapsed in Mike’s arms when he made it to him and brought the two of them to the ground. Nelson could barely speak he was so out of breath.

  “Ken… took… supplies,” Nelson said.

  “What?”

  “Katie… Anne… Sean, Freddy… they’re in trouble.”

  Mike closed his eyes. Jung wasn’t the only one going back on his word.

  Chapter 12: Night of Day 13 (the Farm)

  It took Ken twice as long to bring the supplies back to the farm than when he left. Beth was still awake when he got home. She helped him unload the supplies and bring them in the house.

  “What happened to him?” Beth asked.

  “He got away,” Ken said.

  “You didn’t kill him?”

  “No, but I killed the friend they had at the cabin.”

  “He’s going to come back, Ken.”

  “Only if Mike’s still alive, which I doubt. Besides, even if he does come back, we have his guns, ammo, and supplies.”

  “And his family.”

  Ken stopped. He set the case of 9mm bullets on the kitchen counter and turned to his wife.

  “You didn’t kill them?” Ken asked.

  Beth said nothing. When she turned to pick up the rest of the supplies, Ken grabbed her arm.

  “Where are they?” Ken asked.

  “I put them in the storm cellar.”

  “Goddamn it, Beth, we talked about this. You weren’t supposed to keep them alive.”

  “And you weren’t supposed to let one of them get away, but it happened.”

  There was viciousness in her words as she jerked her arm out of Ken’s grip and stormed outside to the cart. Ken followed her.

  “What happened?” Ken asked.

  “I know why we’re doing this, Ken. I do,” Beth said, turning around to face him. “You’ve been responsible for keeping this family safe, but… what if we don’t have to hurt people like we have? What if there’s another way?”

  “Did they talk to you? Get in your head?”

  “No, but we can’t keep going on like this forever, can we?”

  “Of course we can! The moment we let guilt slip into our minds is the moment we start digging our own graves.”

  Ken grabbed one of the rifles out of the back of his cart along with a box of ammo. He started loading bullets into the rifle’s magazine.

  “What are you doing?” Beth asked.

  “Your job.”

  “Ken, the boys, they’re no older than Joey. You ca—”

  “It’s them or us, Beth. There can’t be both.”

  “What if they come back? What if they managed to kill the bikers? We’ll need a bargaining chip.”

  Ken stopped. On the slim chance that
Mike did manage to kill the bikers, he would come looking for his family. Mike didn’t strike him as someone who forgave easily, and with the knowledge of how prepared he was, Ken figured that Mike knew how to handle himself in a fight. He set the rifle back down on the cart and grabbed a box with first aid supplies.