Inception of Chaos: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Story

by Holden, J. J.

  Christine took a deep breath. “Damn. Okay, it is what it is. We’ll redesign it. I just don’t look forward to going through all this again with Cobi.”

  Before Mrs. Larsen could reply, though, the front doors flew open. A townie rushed in, panting for breath, spotted David, and ran over to them. “Officer Kelley, there you are,” he said, breathless.

  “Here I am. What’s wrong?” David’s gun hand twitched, as it hung by his thumb off his duty belt, Christine noticed.

  She felt the man’s mood, too. Something was definitely not right. “Tell us.”

  The townie shook his head and rested his hands on his knees, sucking air. “I ran…fast as I could.”

  They waited patiently for him to catch his breath until, still panting, he said, “An envoy arrived from Fort Morgan. He demanded a meeting with the mayor. Something about warning us of a big mob approaching. They’re from Aurora. Denver took all their supplies early on. They tried to storm the barricades into Denver, but got pushed back. So, they turned east instead.”

  Christine glanced at David, and his tight-lipped expression showed worry. That was enough to send her nearly into a panic. “Cobi’s not here,” she said, looking around, although she’d already known he was elsewhere. He had little patience for the grind of executing plans, once created.

  The townie shook his head. “No, he’s with the envoy. They’re talking in private at Cobi’s house. But you two are the only ones keeping him in check, as far as I can tell, and…” He glanced around, as though realizing there were other people around for the first time. “…And, I thought he could use some help. You need to get over there, before he makes a deal with Fort Morgan.”

  Christine frowned. “What deal? And why is that a problem? We should be making deals with neighbors.”

  “Not this one.” The townie grimaced. “I’ve heard rumors of what they do. You don’t become their ally, I’ve heard. You become their subjects. Give up half your stuff and half your food, and they’ll protect you from the big bad threat. Refuse, and they become the big, bad threat.”

  Christine looked over her other shoulder to the town hall’s rear, where Fran, Wiley, and her kids were sitting, the kids drawing. She hadn’t wanted to leave them at home with Bryson, so she had brought them with her.

  Mary, on the table’s far side, said, “I’ll watch them.”

  Orien, beside her, nodded. “Wiley’s with them, too. Say what you want about him, but I doubt he’d let Mr. Simmons abscond with your children.”

  Christine saw David’s grimace as he stared over at Wiley with the kids. “It’ll be fine, David. We have to go. I trust him to keep Bryson at bay, at least, don’t you?”

  David paused, but then nodded. “I suppose. All right, let’s get going.”

  Christine noticed her hand shaking as she reached for her flannel overshirt. Who knew what trouble Cobi would cause, if he was left to deal with some bully strong-arm tactics alone? Spineless weasel…

  Flannel in hand, she rushed to the door with David and Orien right behind her, then angled toward his SUV in the parking lot.

  44

  David opened the door and strode through the doorway, Christine behind him, while Orien stood outside the door. Within, Cobi stood behind his desk, shaking hands with a man David didn’t recognize, who stood opposite him.

  Cobi’s smile soured. “Officer Kelley. Chrissy. This doesn’t concern you, but please close the door on your way out. That’s an order, in case I wasn’t clear.”

  David paused. That wasn’t the response he’d expected. He glanced at Christine.

  She was already moving past David. “Oh, that won’t be necessary. Weldona’s town bylaws permit a law-enforcement representative to be present at any meeting that could affect Weldona citizens’ health and well-being.”

  Cobi smirked at her. “Nice, but I can read, too. Weldona doesn’t have an official police department, so—”

  “Except that,” Christine cut him off, raising her voice over his briefly, “the bylaw doesn’t specify which department. It doesn’t have to be Weldona’s. Just another one of those old, out-of-date laws that needs updating, I suppose, but it is what it is.”

  Cobi stared at her in silence, his eyes narrowed.

  David stepped between her and the HOA president. “Of course he knows that. He just hoped that you didn’t. But, since he’s a great supporter of law and order, he wouldn’t dream of trying to violate the town’s bylaws. Would you, Cobi?”

  Cobi looked back and forth between them. “No. Maybe. Or perhaps, we could—”

  It was David’s turn to cut him off, looking directly into Cobi’s eyes. “And besides, he knows he can’t make me leave anyway.”

  Cobi frowned, but then his expression softened and a smile replaced it. “Of course, Officer Kelley. Chrissy, feel free to wait outside while we conduct town business. I’ll be sure the notes are read at the next town meeting, of course. Bye, now.”

  The other man glanced between them, as Christine crossed her arms and didn’t move, then shrugged. “Officer Kelley, I’m Michael Brown, regional rep for the Fort Morgan Collective for Support and Protection, or the C-S-P. As I was about to tell your mayor, here, our scouts are tracking a number of refugee groups in the region. They’ll likely cross at the bridge just west of town.”

  Cobi said, “Then we have little to worry about. We have the County Road Five bridge blocked off. Hungry scavengers won’t be much of a threat to the town.”

  As Michael nodded in response, David frowned. “What of the farms out there? They’ll have plenty to worry about.” Farmer Joe and his wife would definitely not be leaving their home, and the farmhands, refugees themselves, had nowhere else to go.

  Cobi shrugged. “They can take shelter in the town. It’s an option for all our citizens, of course.”

  Christine let out a low growl, then said, “You know damn well they aren’t going to leave their homes to be looted by a bunch of locusts. If you don’t do something to protect them, you’re going to lose a lot of farmers.”

  A frown spread across Cobi’s face. He shook his head slowly. “That’s a damn shame, it really is. But we can’t protect everything, so we have to make tough choices.”

  “But the farmers—”

  “The smart ones will shelter in town,” Cobi said, his voice rising over hers. “The stubborn ones… Well, there will be fewer people who aren’t on board with the program.”

  She flinched as though his words physically hurt. “What are you saying, man?”

  “I’m saying that, when all is said and done, thinning the herd helps the rest of us, by helping me get tough choices approved fast. We need that, Chrissy.”

  Michael watched the exchange quietly. Before David could think through the implications, and before Christine could fire off a hasty argument, the Ft. Morgan rep said, “I may have some ideas that have a bearing on this. If I may?”

  He looked to Christine and David, not Cobi, David noticed and nodded.

  Michael continued, “I may have some good news for you all, in that regard. This coalition we’re building, it can’t stand if we can’t defend its members. This is why we’re careful about who we invite, of course. Before we approached you, we had to scout the area, and you, and determine whether we could. And well, I’m here, so draw your own conclusions.”

  Cobi cocked his head. “You can protect our farms?”

  David fought the urge to interrupt with questions of his own, but quickly decided to stay silent, for the moment. If this were a chance to protect them all, presenting a divided front to Ft. Morgan CSP rep could sink the opportunity.

  After a brief pause, Michael replied, “Of course. Anyone we invite to the C-S-P has only to agree to abide by our bylaws, which are aimed at enabling fast, effective response to a shifting and varied threat landscape.” He paused and looked around the room. “Basically, follow our rules, and follow any mandates given by the council. Eventually, you’d have a seat on that council, once we all se
e that you’re a great asset to the coalition. In return, we protect you from the threats out there—and we can do it quickly.”

  Cobi nodded. Christine cocked her head. David, however, felt a nagging sensation in the back of his head, the same feeling he’d had when the Denver mayor had issued certain gray-area decrees before David had left the city…

  David said, “What sort of bylaws? I assume we can see them before deciding.”

  Michael shrugged. “Of course you can. But this offer has a short window before it closes, and then we move on. Please keep in mind that we aren’t the only ones building up again, you know.”

  “There are others?” David found that to be a curious admission. Maybe one of those wouldn’t trigger his Spidey Sense…

  “Yes. They just do it with a gun, rather than a pen, and they don’t take no for an answer.”

  David nodded. “Okay. And what happens if we decline the offer? Not that we will, but what if?”

  Michael let out a sigh. “Look, make no mistake about it, we and our allies are going to make a stand. We have to. Very soon, we all will have to either stand up or lie down. I’d just rather have our coalition’s ‘line in the sand’ be drawn before the horde gets to Weldona than after, because I think we have much to offer one another.”

  David didn’t flinch. “Does that quick decision-making you mentioned include using force to keep American citizens from exercising their right to freedom of movement?”

  Michael didn’t flinch, either. “Yes. Yes, it does. They can keep moving, around us—through the people we didn’t invite, or those who declined to join when offered. However, the governor has officially declared a State of Emergency, so those rights you mentioned…they’re on hold for the duration. That makes what we’re doing legal, or at least, not illegal. But I’m happy to let the courts settle this, down the road—for the survivors, at least.”

  The tickle in the back of David’s mind grew loud. The governor made a decree? Before he could think it through, he blurted, “Fort Morgan is farther from Denver than we are. How is it that you heard of this decree before us? I don’t see how that’s possible.”

  Michael’s expression froze, rigid. “Officer Kelley, the only reason someone might have to reject our alliance offer is if they didn’t want their neighbors to be secure. If they wanted their neighbors weak and alone, for some reason. That’s a Denver P-D uniform you’re wearing, is it not?”

  David’s eye twitched. Before he could reply, however, Christine said, “So, what steps will the coalition take to protect us? Words are only words, after all.”

  “Of course.” Michael’s face relaxed a bit as he regarded her. “We prioritize our assets—our people and our weapons—based on the greatest good. However, I can tell you that, as the farthest west of our members, protecting Weldona would be one of our highest priorities. We’d assign militia units here to protect you from unlawful looting by those outside our little family.”

  David’s stomach dropped. Of course they’d have to put troops there to protect Weldona… But once they were in place, then what? What could Weldona do about it if Fort Morgan decided the greater good involved stripping the farms bare and retreating to safer lines? Or impressing Weldona’s people into servitude? The man hadn’t mentioned anything about looting by those inside the “little family.”

  Cobi said, “At a glance, this all sounds fine. Yes, we need to read the bylaws, but that’s a formality. What is not a formality, however, is the question of leadership here in Weldona. I’m the mayor, here, and for good reason. I know this town and its people, and I must be the one deciding what’s best for those people.”

  Michael smiled warmly. “Of course, that’s a given. There’s no reason those who’ve been helpful, such as yourselves, couldn’t stay on as long as you’d like. We’d want to minimize any disturbances caused by changes, and we do that by working through the existing leadership—so long as they abide by the bylaws, of course.”

  “Seems good to me,” Cobi said. “When can I see the bylaws?”

  David’s stomach continued to flip-flop. “One question, sir. These bylaws of yours allow fast decisions, you said. I just wonder, though, does that speedy decision process come by means of dictatorial powers?”

  Michael merely shrugged, like it was a meaningless question. “Of course. Someone has to make decisions, and that’s the council. It works for the good of everyone, and by joining us, you’d implicitly respect that fact, and be obligated to comply with any rulings it makes in doing so.”

  Christine jumped into the trailing silence, saying, “Okay. The only thing is, we have to bring it up to the people. The mayor’s mandate doesn’t cover it, so it has to be discussed, first. I think I know what they’ll say, of course, but it’s necessary.”

  Michael smiled faintly. “Of course. I expected as much. On that note, I have duties to attend to, so I must take my leave. I’ll be back soon to discuss it further, though.”

  There were handshakes all around, and then the Ft. Morgan representative left, the door closing softly behind him as he walked out.

  Cobi turned to David and glared. “You had no damn right to interfere in this, Denver. This is Weldona business.”

  David forced himself to grin at Cobi. “However, since you did ask me to stay on as Weldona’s law enforcement, it’s my duty to ask those questions, at least according to your own town charter, and so I will do it to the best of my abilities because I’m the only one around qualified to do so, whether you like that or not, so long as I’m here.”

  Cobi, still standing from shaking hands, strode from his own office with a glare at David and Christine both, and let the door slam shut behind him.

  David smiled wanly to Christine, but his thoughts were anything but happy. Cobi was working some angle, that much seemed clear, and the farmers—who were the heart and soul of Weldona and the reason for the farm town’s existence—were not high on the man’s list of priorities. Weldona was becoming a powder keg, ready to blow, and their mayor was the reason.

  45

  The dishes hadn’t washed themselves, so Wiley pushed his t-shirt sleeves up above his elbows and waded into the mess. Fran had eight people in her house, including him, so Wiley had long ago taken to just quietly picking up, doing dishes, folding the hanging laundry—anything to make Fran’s life easier. The old woman never complained, but he saw the faint limp that had crept into her gait since everyone crash-landed on her doorstep. He’d helped with enough of the farmstead chores to know how much extra work feeding them all put on her, and it was only right to help.

  Of course, it didn’t surprise Wiley in the least that the two cops had yet to wash a dish, much less help out. They were too busy driving around town in a free car, using free gas, keeping the peaceful townsfolk “safe” from…well, from one another, Wiley supposed. Not that they needed it. Had they arrested even one local in the time since everyone had arrived? Typical.

  Halfway through the pile of dishes, the front door opened, interrupting Wiley’s thoughts.

  He turned and, wiping hands on a dishcloth, walked to the living room. Christine and the cops, returning. His stomach flip-flopped at the idea of telling her, but there was no help for it. She had to know.

  “…and he’s going to burn the whole thing down around his own damn ears, but ours too, and that’s the problem.” Christine closed the door behind her. “Hey, Wiley. How’s it going?”

  Wiley shook his head. Time for the other shoe to drop, the moment he had dreaded. “Not great. Your hu… Your ex-husband, he followed me into the kitchen, and confronted me about us.”

  She cocked her head. “Something happen between you two? He didn’t mention it to me.”

  “No.” Wiley took a deep breath, then took the plunge. “He said he knew there was something going on between me and you.”

  “Say what?”

  Wiley smirked. “I told him he was stupid. We just met at the start of all this, and we’re just friends. But he didn’t belie
ve me. He told me to step aside, because he was going to get you back.”

  Christine rolled her eyes. “That idiot always suspected me of cheating. You know, because he was cheating, so of course I had to be, also. But who I screw is none of his damn business, anymore, if there were anyone. Which there isn’t.”

  Wiley shrugged. “None of my business, either, but I don’t think anyone’s had time for romance, lately. Anyway, he asked me why I stayed here while you were ‘rushing into danger’ with David, going to that meeting. I don’t know what danger he thought you’d be in, but he didn’t explain.”

  Wiley paused. Remembering that conversation, an image flashed through his head—Bryson, lifeblood spilling out over a knife hilt Wiley held, blade impaling the bastard’s neck. Bryson’s face shifted, and another face, from another time, superimposed itself over him—battered, bloody, and finally dying. A wave of satisfaction washed through Wiley at the new image. The memory of it…

  He shook his head to clear the rage-filled thoughts. He looked back up and met Christine’s gaze. “I told him again that nothing was going on. I told him you were a good parent—and that I wasn’t going to let him screw this up for you. I guess he took it as a threat, because he stepped backward into the pots rack and knocked it over. That’s when Fran came in.”

  David, beside her, said in a quiet tone, “Did you threaten him?” He watched Wiley with an inscrutable expression.

  Wiley shrugged. “Not in so many words. Not my fault if he mistook what I said for a threat. Maybe it was the grin as I took a step toward him. Who knows?”

  Because, fuck you, cop. Do something.

  Christine frowned. “What’d Fran say?”

  “When she came in, Bryson rolled on me and told her I threatened him. He stood behind her, even, and told her I was dangerous.” Wiley held his concerned expression firmly in place. Well, Bryson was a little bitch. “He ran out, and she told me Bryson was her guest, just like I was, and she wouldn’t have one guest threaten another in her house. I promised her I’d done no such thing, and asked her how well she really knew the man.”