Our Survival: A Collection of Post Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thrillers

by Williams, Ron

  That turned out to be his salvation, when during a short stop for breath, he heard something coming up on him, but from ahead of him, not behind. Randall dared hope it was something friendly and just about threw himself down the slope. He was just a few yards off the road, hiding behind the last good-sized tree before the clear cut along the shoulder, when he saw the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in a long time: the Hi-Lux truck parked on the road with Thomas standing outside.

  They ran up to each other and embraced without saying a word.

  * * *

  A few minutes later of harrowing and high-speed driving, the truck barreled into Garden City. Randall was immensely relieved to see no new gaps in his family, but didn’t have time for a reunion. Thomas introduced him to Father Thompson and Sam and a couple other people.

  “You’ve got a whole world of trouble bearing down on you, Father,” Randall said. “Our best bet is to take the fight to them. They’re going to come in expecting you to be sheltered in place. Our best chance is to hit them first.”

  “No,” the Priest responded solemnly. “We’ve got buildings here, it’s very familiar ground to all of us. We can defend it if we’re attacked.”

  “Besides,” Sam added. “People will fight harder for their houses than for a patch of trees.”

  The priest nodded. “Agreed. We can fortify here, bunker down, and reinforce.”

  “This is a beautiful little town,” Thomas said. “But it’s a terrible place to try and defend. Look around you. These high valley walls rising up all around you? This is low ground. We’re trapped in here. It’s a bowl. And the only way out, really, is taking the road north or south, and if we have to run, those roads are pre-made ambushes.”

  “Butler’s got maps of this whole area,” Randall pointed out. “He knows we’re locked in a fishbowl here. Which means he knows he’s got the high ground, and he knows how to exploit that. We need to get out and meet him, pick a spot that doesn’t give him the advantage.”

  “I can’t send my people out,” Father Thompson said. “I won’t. I know they will put all their hearts and souls into defending this place, and if they die, they’ll die at home. I’m not going to send them out to die on some anonymous hillside. That’s final.”

  “Well, I can’t sit here and wait for the end. I need to go out and meet it somewhere I have a chance,” Randall sighed after a moment, keeping himself composed and calm on the outside even though he was furious on the inside.

  “Same,” Thomas said. “We don’t agree with your decision, Father, but we’ll respect it. And we’ll do absolutely everything we can to level the odds for you.”

  Sam and Father Thompson looked at each other, silently reinforcing their decision to lead the town in defending it where they were. Finally, the priest looked at the two brothers and said, “God bless you both, and God willing, we will see each other again on this side of eternity.”

  “Thank you,” Randall said.

  As they walked back to the house with the rest of their family, Randall told Thomas, “I kept my eyes on the drive down here. If I were going to attack the town, I’d be sure to send some men up that ridge there.”

  He pointed to the valley wall to the east.

  “You see how the slope eases up right along there, and there’s not bare rock outcrops, all the treetops are level with each other. You could make decent time on foot through that, get yourself staged, and then move in.”

  “Looks like that last half-mile is a pretty gentle descent with lots of cover.”

  “Right. If I were going to hit this town, I’d send some people up the road to make a lot of noise and get everybody’s attention, and then I’d have the death blow come from that ridge.”

  “Sweep in from the flank and trap the defenders in the crossfire,” Thomas said.

  “We need to blunt that flanking force. If nothing else, remove the element of surprise so the defenders can get in position for it.”

  The two brothers briefed the rest of the family on their plan. Bruce had found a Gazetteer in the house, which gave them a good topo of the area. He quickly scanned the map and put his finger on it.

  “Right there,” he told his nephews. “Looks like a choke point for anybody trying to get to your eastern approach.”

  “Let’s roll,” Randall told his brother.

  “You guys get first pick,” Barry said, showing them the family’s makeshift arsenal.

  Thomas wished there were more long guns in the collection. He really wanted two each for himself and Randall, but that would seriously short the rest of the family who’d desperately need them for the defense of the town.

  He kept the Colt Peacemaker .45 LC he’d gotten from Barry earlier, and also picked up an AR-15. He packed his pockets with as many magazines for the rifle as he could.

  Randall went for the reliable, indestructible AK-47 he had stolen, to go with his own Colt 1911 .45 ACP and the Walther PPQ 9mm he’d captured earlier as well.

  “Godspeed,” Barry said.

  Randall and Thomas embraced each of their standing kin, and made a quick stop by one of the bedrooms, where Marcus was sleeping. The hard driving after being wounded had taken a lot out of him, and the exhaustion had finally caught up with him. They each put a silent hand on their father’s shoulder before heading out.

  “I can get you close,” Jane said as they left the house, standing next to the truck. “Buy you maybe a little more time to get yourselves set up.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  The pyre with Gale’s body was in full flame. The young man’s body could no longer be seen in the midst of the inferno, and the heat forced everybody around to take a step back. Mitchum kept watching Butler’s face, but the man would not take his eyes off the fire.

  It was only when the structure of the pyre collapsed in on itself, sending a tower of hot air and sparks high into the air that he turned away. “Alright. It’s time to get this done.”

  “What’s the plan?” George asked.

  “We know that Garden City is tucked down into a bowl, with one road in and one out,” Butler said, taking a large topographical map out of his pocket and spreading it out on a flat spot of ground. “We’re here, town’s there. If they’re expecting us, they’ll be thinking we’ll come right on down the road. We’ve got vehicles, after all. In fact, they might even be smart enough to set up an ambush once we get in. That’s where they’re going to be focused. So we’re going to give them a little probe, a little tease to keep their attention right there. We’ll send in the convoy with half our men to distract them there. Now, any of you all tell me where we’re really going to come from?”

  Everybody looked at the map. A few of the men that were tactically minded or had military experience started nodding their heads and leaning in closer.

  “Right there,” George said, pointing out an area on the map east of town.

  The contour lines were farther apart there, but the green indicating forest cover came up close to the edge of town. The houses were also more scattered on that side, some climbing up the slope a little ways.

  “Exactly,” Butler said. “It’s a smooth, covered approach. Fewer houses means fewer defensive positions we’ll have to worry about. From there, we can swoop in and outflank them while they’re distracted with the convoy.”

  “You need somebody to lead the convoy down the road?” Mitchum asked. “I’m guessing we get in far enough to get a response, but not so far that we get cut to ribbons?”

  “You volunteering?” Butler asked.

  “Yeah. You keep George close. I’ll take the distraction force in the cars. If we come in and hunker down at the first sign they’re fighting back, it’ll keep us out of any ambush they might have set, and get them excited that they’re winning if they think they can keep us pinned down outside of town.”

  “Good call,” Butler said.

  He looked over the militia gathered around him. He motioned Mitchum over to one side and George to stand next to him.
He made eye contact with each man and waved them to either fall in behind Mitchum or himself.

  “Alright, Mitchum,” Butler said. “We’ve each got some smart guys, some bold guys. Remember, your team’s task is to catch and hold their attention at the road so we can get as close as possible before we spring our assault.”

  “Got it,” Mitchum said. “Let’s all mount up. We’ll let Butler’s folk off a couple miles out of town.”

  The militia men all made another check of their weapons before following their orders. Mitchum and half of the militia men climbed into the vehicles and drove on down the road towards Garden City. Butler and George led the other half through the woods on foot.

  Once Mitchum’s convoy would reach Garden City by road and engage the defendants, Butler and Gale’s force would swing down from above the valley to take them by surprise.

  * * *

  “Damn, this spot looks even better than it did down below,” Thomas said, as they found the spot on the valley wall where the slope pinched around a huge incursion of hard rock.

  The trees were thin right there, and there was a little, level step where at most two men could walk abreast. The land on either side of the pinch formed a more mildly sloped shelf that people would naturally gravitate towards.

  Where the bare rock broke through, it was deeply cracked and fissured, offering plenty of natural defilades for the brothers to set up in.

  “We should both keep the high ground advantage,” Randall said. “There and there look like good forward positions. C’mon. Let’s see what there are for fallbacks from there.”

  Once they got up onto the outcropping and selected their initial positions, they traded off scouting secondary positions while the other kept a sharp watch ahead for Butler’s forces. The entire time they both made silent prayers that their gamble would pay off, and they wouldn’t end up sitting out a fight that was happening elsewhere.

  “Game on,” Randall said, while it was his turn to watch.

  He was in his first fallback while Thomas was checking out a second one for himself. Randall set his hat down on the lip of his backup position so he’d be able to find it at a glance when the time came to retreat to it.

  Once he and Thomas were tucked in, they had nothing to do but wait before Butler’s men appeared a few minutes later and moved steadily up the hill.

  “There they are,” said Randall pointed them out to Thomas.

  Butler’s men fanned out across the forest and advanced from tree to tree, guns at the ready. Randall counted at least forty, but knowing the Compound’s total strength, he guessed Butler must have had more men nearby.

  “They’re being cautious, but look more interested in covering ground,” Thomas whispered, as he passed his scope over the front line.

  The men were looking around casually, but their attention was primarily focused straight ahead instead of all around.

  “We keep our heads down, they might go right under us,” Randall said softly.

  “You’ve got the better vantage point, so should I cue off you?” Thomas asked.

  “No. I’ll hold until you’ve got your best opportunity. Give me a three count so we can both fire together.”

  Randall kept scanning the marching men, but he couldn’t clearly pick out Butler. Many of the men were wearing billed caps, sunglasses, and bandanas. Butler must have opted to do the same, to avoid being too conspicuous.

  With their route being so easy to follow, there was no need for anybody to clearly direct their motion yet, either. At least the choke point had the Compound militia clustering up as they saw the narrow coming up.

  “Three,” Randall heard.

  He quickly picked a target, somebody towards the middle of the pack that seemed taller and broader than the rest. He remembered Butler being imposing, so he went for the one that seemed to fit that description best.

  “Two… One… Fire!” Thomas whispered.

  Randall squeezed the AK’s trigger and heard its throaty bark simultaneously with the higher, snappier report of his brother’s AR-15 below him. Two of Butler’s men instantly hit the ground in a misty spray of blood.

  Randall envied his brother’s lighter weapon, as it took him just a hair longer to absorb the kick and get a good sight picture on his next target. He opened up fire again with the AK, sending a stream of bullets into Butler’s militia as they dived for cover and returned fire.

  But the difference was that Butler’s men had no idea who or what exactly they were shooting at, whereas Randall had a full view of Butler’s forces before him. By the time he dropped the first empty magazine from the AK, he could honestly say he scored a good dozen righteous hits out of thirty rounds.

  Thomas was having just as much luck. His first five rounds were definitely clean hits while the militia absorbed what was happening and looked around for cover. That’s when he heard Butler’s voice start to boom out as he rallied his men, but he didn’t waste time looking for him.

  He just kept engaging the first target he could make out after riding the recoil of the previous shot. That’s when targets started getting thinner on the ground. If Butler had ordered them to just hunker down, it would have become a slow sniping fight, but he was driven to get down to Garden City. He started ordering men to send covering fire up into the rocks so others could maneuver forward.

  Randall and Thomas’s initial positions were good enough that they were able to keep shooting at the first men to move forward, while still having solid rock between them and most of the covering fire. Eventually, enough of Butler’s men moved forward that they had to cover each other to hit their secondary positions. Randall thanked himself profusely for staging the hat, because when it was his turn to move, he had only time to pop up and sprint.

  For another five minutes, he and Thomas kept up a sporadic firefight with Butler’s men. One near ricochet sent some rock chips into the side of Randall’s face, but he showed no sign of any injury. They were definitely whittling away at Butler’s men, and in the moments when nobody up on the valley wall was shooting, they could hear fierce gunfire down on the road.

  It was during one of those moments that Randall suddenly heard an unfamiliar rifle fire from behind him, and bullets started cracking off the rock next to him. Two more rifles opened up, then a third.

  “Guns down, hands up!”

  Randall knew for certain that the position he was in was fully exposed from behind and uphill. He guessed Thomas was in the same predicament, and he carefully set his AK beside him and put his hands in the air.

  “We got ‘em!” the voice behind him shouted, and then it said: “Both of you, stand up real nice and slow! We wanna see your hands high in the air!”

  Randall and Thomas looked at each other as they turned. They both silently acknowledged that neither of them had planned for the possibility that Butler might send men behind them once the ambush was sprung.

  “Phil, get the rifles. Jimmy, their pistols.”

  Two of the militia members, including Phil, collected the brothers’ firearms, and then the one who spoke gestured them to move downhill. They went through the choke point and into the middle of the ambush site.

  Butler and George were with their militia men, standing in the middle of a couple dozen more dead men on the ground. Randall wasn’t the kind of man to revel in the death of another, but seeing how well he and his brother had done in their hastily assembled ambush, he knew he could keep his head high.

  “Well, well, well,” said Butler in satisfaction. “Looks like your luck has finally run out.”

  Butler walked right up to Randall and looked him square in the eyes.

  “Murderer,” Butler said.

  Suddenly, Butler’s fist flashed forward right into Randall’s gut.

  “UMPH!” Randall groaned in pain as he fell to his knees clutching his abdomen.

  Butler turned to Thomas next, who likewise made direct eye contact with Butler without saying a word.

  “And you, Thomas,”
Butler said. “I enjoyed beating you back at the Compound that night. But I think I’m going to enjoy watching my son shooting you in the head even more.”

  Butler drew the SIG Sauer .45 from his holster and then quickly and forcefully pistol whipped Thomas across the face, dropping him to his knees right alongside Randall.

  Phil came up to Butler and held the brothers’ pistols out.

  “The one on the left had this one,” he said, offering up Thomas’s Peacemaker first.

  Butler shook his head and gestured for George to come forward.

  George stepped up and took both handguns.

  “We wanna make it nice and slow for them?” George asked. “Like we did to this guy back at the Compound?”

  George pointed at Thomas.

  Butler shook his head. “I would, but we can’t waste any time or energy before getting to Garden City. Just make it quick.”

  George approached Randall and Thomas, who were on their knees grimacing.

  “I don’t know for sure which one of you bastards took out Gerald, but I know for a fact that you’re the one that did Gale,” George said to Randall. “So you’re going to watch your brother here die, and then I’ll kill you too.”

  Butler grinned and watched in approval.

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  As George walked up to him, Thomas looked over at his brother quick. The two locked eyes and bid each other a silent goodbye, before turning back to stare right at their executioner.

  Butler stood over both brothers on the ground, and then spat in the faces of both. Randall and Thomas each winced.

  “I have nothing more to say to either of you murdering sons of bitches,” said Butler. “George, let’s get this over with. Pop ‘em each in the head.”

  George stepped up with the 1911 and the Peacemaker in each hand and pointed one each at Randall and Thomas. He lost his nerve for a second, and they saw both arms sink, as if the guns had suddenly become much heavier. Then a coldness settled into his eyes, and he started to lift the weapons again.