After the EMP (Book 8): Hope Stumbles

by Tate, Harley

  WJS Alive.

  “It was Walter all right. And he’s still breathing.” Colt stood up and pressed his fingers to his lips. The man had saved him and Dani when everyone else was either dead or about to be. He’d argued for their right to stay with the Cliftons and even taught Dani a thing or two about ham radios.

  Walter had become more than a savior in an uncertain time; he’d become a friend. Colt couldn’t let a gang of strangers hurt him. There had to be a way to track him.

  “What could someone want with Walter?”

  “Nothing good.” Larkin came over to read the words in the dirt. “But whoever they are, they aren’t keeping a close watch.”

  “And they haven’t tortured him.”

  “How can you tell?”

  Colt glanced at Dani. “He was able to write. That means his arms aren’t broken and he still has his hands.”

  The girl shuddered. “If they are anything like the men in Eugene, as soon as they tire of him, they’ll kill him.”

  “Agreed.” Colt headed toward the stairs. “Let’s search the rest of this place for clues. Maybe we can find some evidence of where they’ve gone.”

  An hour later, Colt slumped against the wall. The cold night air seeped through the concrete and he shivered. “We’re never going to find him.”

  “We could bring Lottie and see if she can pick up the scent.”

  “She’ll never be able to track a car.”

  Dani eased down to sit beside Colt and propped her rifle on her knees. “If these guys are anything like the dealers I used to know, they won’t give up this space. It’s close to town, has working heat, and they’ve gone to a lot of trouble to set it up.”

  “Then why clear out so fast?”

  “What if we didn’t spook them? What if they were merely done for the day?”

  Colt eased off the wall. Dani might be young, but she made up for her age with street-life experience. “Then sooner or later someone will be back.”

  “Exactly.” She turned to face him, the flashlight beam highlighting the excitement in her eyes. “As soon as they need to make another run, they’ll be back and we can be ready for them.”

  “It could be days, weeks, even.”

  “Do you have a better idea?”

  Nothing came to Colt’s mind, but the idea of sitting around and waiting twisted his insides. Walter could die while they twiddled their thumbs. He tried to get in the head of a band of thieves or marauders. If they were organized, with a substantial base camp some miles away, then maintaining a processing facility in town made sense.

  He panned his flashlight across the space. Was that really what this was? He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I guess waiting can’t hurt us. Let’s get the Jeep and move it closer. Lottie can’t stay out there all night.”

  “And we need the sleeping bags.” Larkin headed toward the door. “I hope these chumps don’t come back until the morning.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because even I need my beauty sleep.”

  Day 281

  Chapter Ten

  COLT

  Abandoned Warehouse

  Truckee, CA

  5:00 a.m.

  Colt snapped awake and groaned. In the Navy, he always joked about his pregnant-woman bladder when he had to relieve himself every hour. At least now it had a purpose: no alarm clock required when he needed to piss before dawn.

  Easing out of his sleeping bag, he passed an unconscious Dani and Lottie, both slumbering the morning away. He sneaked past with quiet, hesitant steps; they needed every minute of sleep.

  Dani had grown so much since coming to stay at the Cliftons’ place in the woods. She’d even given up a bit of her ingrained distrust. Colt knew she missed the intensity of surviving in the city, but he was thankful for the rest. Thirty-something bodies didn’t heal like they used to. He couldn’t keep running forever.

  He pushed the door open and winced. Colder than a witch’s tit and not a light in sight. As quick as he could, Colt hustled back inside, shivering and rubbing his arms.

  “That warm, huh?”

  “Like a beach vacation.”

  He eased down beside Larkin and held his hands out to the portable stove. “How long have you been awake?”

  “Since Dani poked me with a stick around two.”

  Colt counted up the hours. “If she can sleep until six, we’ll have managed four hours a piece. Not too shabby.”

  Larkin pulled a pot from the stove and turned it off. The little blue flame flickered out and the heat fled along with it. “Coffee?”

  “You have to ask?”

  After pouring two mugs, Larkin handed one over. “How long are we planning to camp out?”

  “Until these bastards come back or we figure out where they went.”

  “That could take a while.”

  “We aren’t giving up. Walter saved our lives.”

  “Never said we should, but the longer it takes…” Larkin sipped his coffee.

  “The worse the odds, I know.” Colt rubbed a hand over his face. He’d grown so used to the short beard and scraggly hair he now sported that years of a clean-shaven face and military haircut seemed like a lifetime ago. “You ever think about Jarvis and how things are going in Eugene?”

  “I try not to.”

  “How many other places are like that, you think?”

  “Taken over by jerks on a power trip?” Larkin tucked his surfer-length hair behind his ear. Take him out of the wool sweater and tactical pants and he could have been right at home in Southern California. Not that there were any surfers left.

  “Eugene can’t be the only place.”

  “Walter described Sacramento like a war zone. Bigger cities had to fare worse. I can’t imagine anything’s left but burned-out buildings and dead bodies.”

  “Truckee’s mostly intact.”

  “That’s because everyone left alive froze to death come November.” Larkin leaned back on his hands. “Face it. Most of America is dead or dying.”

  Colt shook his head. “I refuse to believe that.”

  “Want to take a road trip to find out?”

  He snorted. “I’d rather keep some hope alive, thanks.”

  Larkin grinned. “Never knew you to be an optimist.”

  “It’s more denial at this point. I’ve always been better at that one.”

  “Like when you insisted that knee injury wasn’t career-ending?”

  Colt thought back to their shared time in Walter Reed. Him with a blown-out knee and Larkin with a broken back. “What’s the thing you miss most?”

  “About before?”

  Colt nodded.

  “Comedy Central.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “So am I.” Larkin gulped some coffee. “When’s the last time you laughed at something so stupid it was funny?”

  Colt thought about the time he forgot to wipe the rims of Anne’s canned tomatoes and the entire batch spoiled. “Does tragi-comedy count?”

  “Nope. I don’t mean laugh-so-you-don’t-cry funny. I mean real, honest-to-God, funny.”

  “About nine months, I guess.”

  “Bingo.”

  Colt rubbed his face. “When everything thaws, we should rig up a battery and a TV and go on a raid for DVDs.”

  “I’d give my left nut for a copy of The Big Lebowski.”

  “The dude abides.” Colt snorted and drained the rest of his mug. “If you could go back, would you?”

  “You mean before all this happened?” Larkin’s brow shot up. “Of course. Wouldn’t you?”

  Colt glanced over at Dani and Lottie still sleeping on the other side of the warehouse. Before he saved the teenager, his life had been full of one-night stands and empty beer bottles. Now it had purpose. He had someone to look out for and keep alive.

  “No, man. I wouldn’t.”

  “Not even for that hot blonde in the rehab wing?”

  Colt grinned. “Candie.”

  “That
’s the one.” Larkin shook his head. “She had it bad for you.”

  “She had it bad for anyone without a wedding ring and working parts.” After another swig of coffee, Colt sobered. “What do you think DC is like now?”

  Larkin whistled. “If there’s any government left, it’s there.”

  “You think we’ll ever be back?”

  “The United States? I don’t know.”

  “Me neither.” Colt lapsed into silence as he thought about all that transpired since the EMP. The fabric of society wasn’t its morals or shared traditions anymore. It was the current running between the poles.

  Electricity.

  Without it, everyone was on their own.

  He leaned back. “This new life isn’t so bad. We’ve still got coffee. Food. Shelter.”

  Larkin smirked. “And I’m one hot blonde away from paradise.”

  Colt chuckled, but it was short-lived. While they’d talked, Lottie had woken up. The little Yorkie stood by the rear door to the warehouse, a growl rumbling in her belly.

  He set the mug on the ground and clambered to his feet, Sig in his hand without a moment’s hesitation. “Wake up Dani. I’ll check it out.”

  While Larkin hustled across the warehouse, Colt crept toward the door. Were the thugs who took Walter back already? If so, they didn’t waste much time. Overnight and back again meant an operation close by.

  Thanks to breaking in the night before, Colt knew the door hinges squeaked. He waited on the other side, listening for any hint of the metal-on-metal screeching.

  It didn’t take long.

  Come at me. I’m ready. Colt raised the Sig Sauer, holding it level with two hands. Still an expert marksman thanks to countless hours on the range to maintain his air marshal status, Colt had complete faith in his skill. He could shoot a pea off the top of a bottle across a field.

  That old saying about doing something blindfolded with one hand behind his back? He might have tried it. Shooting an intruder square in the chest was child’s play.

  The door swung open and a pale face darted out from behind the metal like a rat on recon in a dirty kitchen. Colt advanced; a quick one-two-three shuffle. The kid didn’t stand a chance. Before he knew what was happening, the barrel of Colt’s gun pressed up against his temple and his lip quivered like Jell-O.

  Colt dragged him inside by the worn-out scruff of his collar. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Nobody. I’m nobody.” The kid held up his hands. His fingers shook. Younger than Dani, twice as scared. “Don’t shoot me.”

  Colt sucked in a breath. “Identify yourself.” A bead of the kid’s sweat rolled over the barrel of the gun and dripped to the floor.

  “F-Frankie.”

  “Got a last name, Frankie?”

  “Jones.”

  Colt eased up a fraction on the gun. “You part of the group that was here yesterday?”

  Frankie’s head rattled. “No, man. I’m not one of ’em.”

  “Then what are you here for?”

  “I’m a scavenger.”

  Colt inched the gun forward. “A what?”

  “Scavenger. Those guys are always leavin’ somethin’ behind. Candy bars. Cigarettes.”

  “What are they like?”

  “I don’t know.”

  The kid shied away, but Colt still held his collar. He twisted the grubby fabric in his fingers.

  “Try again.”

  “There’s a lot of ’em.”

  “When do they come? How long do they stay away?”

  “I don’t know!” Frankie whimpered and fingers twitched. “I’m telling the truth! I just wait until they leave, run in and run out. I don’t stick around to get caught.”

  Colt spun them both around so he stood between Frankie and the door. He let him go with a shove before slamming the door shut. The kid had to know something. He was just too scared to admit it.

  With a wave of his hand, Colt ushered Dani over. “Fish out something to eat, will you?” He glanced at the kid. All skin and bones. “Jerky and water.”

  “No freakin’ way.” Dani cut Frankie a glance and crossed her arms. “You just gotta rough him up a little. He’s soft. He’ll talk.”

  “We don’t always have to be the bad guy.”

  She snorted. “We don’t owe him anything.”

  Colt dropped his voice. “Let’s give him a chance.”

  “Fine.” Dani stomped over to their supplies while Colt kept his gun on the kid. Frankie shrank into himself, hugging his hollow chest with his arms.

  “I’m tellin’ the truth. I don’t know nothin’.”

  Larkin approached Colt from the other side of the warehouse. He zipped up his parka and motioned toward the door. “I’ll do a perimeter check, make sure he’s alone.”

  Colt nodded. Wouldn’t be the first time they'd encountered a decoy sent to distract them from the real danger.

  Dani returned from their gear holding a bottle of water and a handful of dried meat. While Larkin opened the door, Colt took his eyes off Frankie to grab the food. It was enough of a chance for the kid. He took off, lunging for the door.

  Colt took aim. “You keep running and you’re dead before your hand touches that handle.”

  The kid didn’t stop. Colt swore beneath his breath and took off, sprinting to close the distance. As Frankie wrapped his hand around the handle, Colt grabbed his arm. He yanked, hard, and the kid crumpled to the ground.

  Colt straddled him and kicked, rolling Frankie onto his back. With his gun aimed square at the space between Frankie’s eyes, Colt put a foot on his chest and pressed. “Give me something or I take the girl up on her offer and practice my soccer moves.”

  Frankie’s eyes widened and his face paled to match the concrete floor. “When they leave, they take the north road out of town. Across the highway.”

  “Where?”

  “There’s a farm. A big white house with three grain silos. You can’t miss it.”

  Larkin opened the door. “All clear. If he’s got any friends, they didn’t come with him this trip.”

  Colt lifted his foot and Frankie sucked in a breath. He tossed the jerky at the kid’s chest. “Take it and go.”

  “What?” Dani stepped forward, but Colt stuck out his arm. “He gave us what we wanted to know.”

  “That doesn’t mean we give him our food.”

  Colt waited until Frankie scrambled to his feet and scurried out the door. “He could be an asset.”

  “He could be lying through his teeth.” Dani palmed her hips. “He could be running to that farmhouse right now and telling them we’re on the hunt.”

  “Doesn’t matter if he does.”

  “Why not?”

  “He’ll never outrun the Jeep.” Colt holstered his gun and motioned toward the gear. “Pack up. Let’s get Walter.”

  Chapter Eleven

  TRACY

  Clifton Compound

  Near Truckee, CA

  6:00 a.m.

  A gray wash lightened the sky above the forest as Tracy tramped across the hard-packed snow to the supplies cabin. Half an hour until sunrise and most everyone still slept, snuggled in down sleeping bags to ward off the winter chill.

  Without fruit and vegetables to harvest and fewer eggs this time of year, the chores around the Clifton property could be accomplished in the daylight. Tracy wished Madison had opted for mucking out the pig pen this past week instead of checking traps. If she hadn’t insisted on working the line, she wouldn’t be suffering in the bunk room.

  Tracy yawned away her fatigue. All night, she’d stayed up watching Madison for signs of rabies. So far, her daughter seemed no worse than anyone with a leg injury. No fever, no uncontrollable sweating or mood swings.

  She hadn’t had the heart to tell Madison about the fox, but she would have to explain before she left. Madison would need to know the symptoms. She would need to prepare for the worst in case Tracy didn’t make it back in time.

  Tracy stomped the clumped snow
off her boots and tried to send her negative thoughts along with it. Prepping for a trip required focus, not distraction. With a deep breath, she opened the cabin door and stepped inside.

  The supply cabin housed more than just food and medicine; the small footprint also stored weapons and camping supplies. Tracy eased out of her jacket and hung it on a hook before setting down her small bundle of clothes.

  She didn’t know how long she’d be gone, but she needed to pack light. With Colt, Larkin, and Dani using the Jeep to search for Walter, Tracy had no choice but to travel on foot. The farm couldn’t afford to lose its only other working four-wheeler if she didn’t come home.

  After regrouping from the attack on the Cliftons’ place, Larkin and Walter had tried for months to find working vehicles in and around Truckee. It proved surprisingly difficult. Only older cars lent themselves to hot-wiring, and thanks to emissions standards and lease deals before the EMP, there weren’t many around.

  Add in a few months on the side of the road and even if they could open the steering column and join the wires, the engines wouldn’t crank. They had taken to siphoning gas and maintaining the cars they had, instead.

  Tracy exhaled and went back to work, picking out a small, one-shouldered pack that fit over her parka. It wouldn’t hold a tent or a sleeping bag, but she could do without. Rabies vaccines were stashed in hospitals, not forests.

  She stuffed a single change of clothes and two pairs of wool socks into a small stuff sack and rolled it to squeeze out the air before adding it to the pack. A travel trauma kit was next.

  Unzipping it to check the contents, Tracy checked off her mental inventory: two pairs of nitrile gloves, EMT shears, a tourniquet, Sharpie, QuikClot gauze, an Israeli bandage, mylar blanket, burn gel, and a Surgicel hemostat. All there. Thanks to the Cliftons, Tracy now knew basic trauma first aid and how to use all the supplies.

  She’d come a long way in nine months. Tracy zipped up the pouch and slipped it into the pack before grabbing a simple first aid kit and tossing it in, too. Between the two kits, Tracy could survive a bullet wound or a nasty accident and have a fighting chance to make it home.