Inception of Chaos: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Story

by Holden, J. J.

Immediately, he heard a clatter and looked up, only to find Orien flying through the air to football-tackle the perp.

  His name is Wiley…

  Orien and Wiley crashed to the ground in a heap, and after a moment’s struggle during which David kept them covered with his pistol, Orien used counter-joint pressure to force Wiley’s arm behind his back, slapped on one handcuff—making Wiley yelp in pain, as they so often did when cuffs were slapped on them—and used that handcuff as bending leverage to force Wiley to bring his other arm around.

  In under five seconds, he had Wiley fully cuffed and pinned to the floor, knee on his spine, panting.

  Wiley screamed, “Fine, you got me! I’m a murderer. Arrest me, send my ass to jail.”

  “That’s the plan,” David said.

  “I hope you pigs sleep well at night knowing I saved those girls’ lives while you ate donuts, and you just fucked me for it. Good job, cops. Serve and protect, my ass. Protecting monsters, more like. Who were you protecting while they raped and killed my beautiful sister!” He screamed it more like a statement than a question.

  David’s stomach churned. That guy’s poor sister… An image of a crime scene photo flashed to mind. Rose May’s murder had been so grim that even career cops had been unsettled enough to pass around the pictures. It had been a reminder to them and to rookies alike about just why they’d all taken on the badge.

  Stomach growing ever more sour, David said, “Get him up. We have to figure out where to put the prisoner.” He felt like he was on auto-pilot, or like someone else had spoken the words that came out of his mouth.

  Orien didn’t move.

  “Rookie, get him up, I said.”

  Orien looked at Wiley, then back at David, and shrugged. “I can’t do that, sir. I owe him my life… He saved my life. He could have ran and left us to live or die—in my case, die. Instead, he stayed, and you saw what he did.”

  David frowned. Orien’s words felt right…but he was a cop, dammit. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not letting a serial killer loose because of some sob story about his sister. You can’t just take the law into your own hands, Orien. It’s the law. What don’t you get about that? And remember, a jury didn’t buy his story, and they got to see a lot more evidence than we have, but they still convicted him. That’s our system, and we’re sworn to uphold the law. Did you forget?”

  Orien frowned at him, his lips flatlining. “Sir, respectfully, who are you trying to convince? Me, or yourself?”

  From beneath Orien’s pinning knee, Wiley said, “Yes, I’m a murderer, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

  “See?” David snarled at Orien. “He admits it—he killed them all.”

  Wiley shouted, “And so would you! You can’t really think I’m a danger to anyone good, though, can you? Not unless I got another sister somewhere.”

  David frowned. Would he have done the same? Something ugly inside himself wasn’t so sure Wiley was wrong. “Maybe, maybe not, but we’re not talking about me. You did it, and the jury nailed you.”

  David felt the room grow warmer, and his palms were suddenly damp.

  In a quieter voice, Wiley said, “I did what I did, but for a reason. And yeah, I was convicted, but only because the damn judge didn’t allow anything about my sister at the trial, because, get this, there’s no justification for capital murder. Well, this time, I disagree.”

  David shook his head. “Wiley, the wheels of justice may turn slowly, but eventually, justice is served. You can’t take it into your own hands—that’s the law, and for a good reason.”

  “Bullshit. Courts aren’t about justice. They’re about the letter of the law—just like you assholes.” Wiley let out an “oof,” as Orien glared at him and jammed his knee harder into his back. He continued, “Take off that badge for one minute and think about this. What would you do if you knew who tortured your mother to death? If the people who should have protected your mom did nothing with that information, even though you knew these guys were about to do it again to someone else’s mother? Why’d you become a cop in the first place, man? Was it to throw your weight around and make people ‘respect mah authori-tah,’ or was it to stop evil people from hurting good people?”

  Orien muttered, “I know why I joined the force. It wasn’t to avenge people who torture little girls to death. Sorry, sir.”

  “Sorry why, exactly?” David’s barrel dipped a couple inches.

  “Because if you want to arrest Wiley, you’ll have to do it yourself. You know damn well what these scared people are going to do when they get their hands on Wiley.” Orien paused at the sound of the back door opening, and hastily added, “They’re going to lynch him to make themselves feel safer. But David, he just saved a cop’s life.”

  Cobi’s voice came from the back office, just out of David’s view as he kept his eyes and his aim on Wiley. “He saved a mayor’s life, too, more importantly. Howdy, boys. I’ve had that drink, and I’m feeling much better, thank you. Got the perp cuffed and stuffed, I see?”

  David’s lip twitched at one corner. Damn, this was not at all what he needed at the moment. “Yes, sir. Just discussing his fate.”

  Cobi grinned, then looked down at Wiley. “Well. I guess you shouldn’t have come in and made me look like a little bitch, Wiley. I had everything under control. And if you two cops know what side of your bread is buttered, that’s the story you’re going to sing. Meantime, while I appreciate the thought, Wiley, that doesn’t excuse you for being a serial killer. This is a law-and-order town, and I feel like this would be a very good time for me to prove that to everyone in town. I got big plans for you, Wiley. I’m sorry you won’t be around to see the result, but think of it this way: your life is going to save a bunch of others. Maybe that will take some of the sting out of it. Not out of the rope, of course, but I’ll make that as quick and painless as I can.”

  56

  Christine veered west at the first street she could find, once the Weldona checkpoint was out of the rearview, and her purse tipped over. The pistol from Fran fell out. “Can you get that for me? Don’t want it bouncing around in here.”

  Mary’s nose wrinkled as she gingerly picked it up with two fingers and set it back in the purse. “I thought you hated these things.”

  “I do.” Christine craned her neck, looking for another route back to the highway. “But I hate them less than getting killed by a mob.”

  She took the next available right turn, tires chirping but holding their traction. Ahead, a sharp left onto the highway appeared, and she took it, her foot easing into the gas pedal to launch onto the roadway. There were still stalled cars all over the place, but they were spaced far enough apart that, with only a little attention, she could bypass those.

  Two miles west, Mary pointed out the windshield. “People.”

  Christine narrowed her eyes to see better, and found Mary had been right. The road was cluttered with at least a couple dozen people on foot, trudging east. They’d hit Weldona in an hour, but there weren’t enough to be a threat. Not to Weldona, at least; they were a huge threat to a lone car.

  Mary said, “Can’t you just accelerate? They’ll get out of the way or bounce off the hood.”

  “No. Ever see a car that hit a deer? Kills the deer, but messes up the car. Hit enough, you lose momentum and the people who aren’t dead are mighty ticked off.”

  Mary put her hand to her mouth. “You don’t think they came across Bryson and the kids, do you?”

  Christine, slowing to a halt, frowned. “Why would you say that? I don’t need to be thinking about that. Even Bryson is smart enough to go around a mob. Look for a place to get off the road.”

  “You could go back to the last turnoff,” Mary suggested.

  Christine looked around, frustrated. That would cost time. But if she could just get off the highway, maybe cut through to the next parallel street…

  She spotted a place ten yards back, on the south road edge, where the guard rail had been torn away some time ag
o. The embankment was shallow and, approaching it, she saw another road at the bottom of it. “Think we should try it?”

  Mary grinned. “You ever been off-roading?”

  “No. Why?”

  Mary shrugged. “I have. It’s easy to get bottomed out, even in a four-by-four. Want me to drive?”

  Christine flung her door open and ran around the back of the car. Mary was already climbing into the driver’s seat as Christine opened the passenger door, and moments later, they were careening down the earthen embankment. Out her side window, Christine saw a pit that she hadn’t seen before, one she’d no doubt have smashed right into. Letting Mary drive had been the right decision, clearly.

  They traveled down the parallel road for a few hundred yards, until Christine was certain they were well beyond the small horde of refugees, but they found no new on-ramps, so continued. A mile later, Christine growled, “We have to get back on the road. Bryson is making better time than us, I’m sure of it. Can’t we just go back up like we came down?”

  Mary’s response was to slow at a driveway and, taking it at an angle, pulled off the cement onto dirt and continued on, angled to go up the incline over a distance. The car bounced around mightily, and Christine focused on holding on so she wouldn’t bang her head—

  Mary slammed on the brakes, skidding to a halt in a cloud of dust.

  Christine looked around for the cause, and found it—a ravine cut by rainwater, bisecting the embankment. “Crap. Hang on.”

  She inched her way back to get room to turn, then headed downward once more. The ravine was cut through the washout between two hills, like the earth was a lumpy sheet on a bed, but the ravine ended before they reached the flat farmland below. They headed west, around the ravine.

  As the car crested the second hill framing the ravine, though, a flash of red up ahead came into view. A car. A Mustang, in fact.

  “No freaking way,” Mary said, and slowed to a halt. “Is that them right there?”

  Christine couldn’t be sure it was Bryson’s car, at their distance, but she could see legs sticking out from under the hood, which stood open. It wasn’t abandoned. “Seems like good odds, no? Let’s get up to it. When we get there, stop quickly so I can get out, and we’ll figure out what to do from there.”

  She reached for her purse and stuck one hand inside, leaving it there to feel the comforting weight within, and wished Wiley was with her. “Come on, let’s go.”

  Mary accelerated slowly, but gravity helped, and soon the car was moving at a good clip. When they got close, she hit the brakes and veered so that the car skid to a halt ten feet from the Mustang, with Christine’s door closest to the other car.

  Go time.

  Christine flung her door open and hopped out, purse hanging over her neck and shoulder to dangle in front of her where she could keep her hand inside it. The cold plastic handgrip reassured her that, if she were wrong about whose car that was and they weren’t friendly, she could at least get Mary and herself out of hot water.

  The man under the hood hastily backed out and spun around, and Christine saw it was indeed Bryson. He was raising his hand in greeting, with a smile—until he recognized who had arrived to help. His hand dropped, just like his smile.

  What an idiot. What if she had been a group of bandits? He shouldn’t have been so happy to see anyone, not until he knew who they were and what their intentions were, especially with her kids in the car. Just one more reason he couldn’t be trusted with them, even ignoring the fact that he had just kidnapped them.

  In the back seat, two faces appeared in the side window. Hunter and Darcy wore expressions that were mirror opposites of their father’s, and waved excitedly to their mom.

  Mary came up beside Christine, as Bryson’s frown turned angry. Her friend had a somewhat checkered past, and although Mary did her best to avoid danger, she could probably take care of herself in a pinch, so Christine was glad to have the company.

  Christine tried to keep her anger at Bryson in check, but she didn’t try very hard. It burst through what little self-restraint she had left, as she shouted, “You bastard. Did you really think you could steal my kids, run out into the wilderness with bandits and looters and God knows who else, and get away with it?”

  Frankly, she didn’t care if the kids heard her argue with their father, for once. It was one thing for the lazy ass to not do the dishes, but this was a whole different ballgame.

  Bryson’s cheeks flushed red, and his upper lip curled back. He took one step toward her as he shouted, “First of all, I didn’t steal anyone. Second of all, these are my kids, and I have a say in how they’re raised, and where. They’ll be safer in Denver, with me, and the fact that you don’t see that just proves you aren’t fit to be their mother.”

  Christine found her grip tightening on the pistol in her purse. “Not another step, Bryson.”

  Anyone could have found Bryson and her kids, out there, and the odds had favored it being bandits. Only by the grace of God had it been her, instead. The thought of what bandits might do to her children flashed through her mind.

  “You’re not my mother, and you don’t get to tell me what to do. Why do you think I banged your friends, besides the fact that they’re hotter than you? I was sick of you being bossy all the time. I’m a grown man.”

  “Then act like it, at least in front of the kids. And you’d better hope they didn’t hear that.”

  For half a second, she really had to struggle not to bring the pistol out and end the custody feud once and for all. But like she’d just told him…not in front of her kids. Only that fact gave her the half-second of self-restraint she needed to squash the impulse.

  “Please, like you haven’t told my kids all about what a horrible person you think I am. That’s another thing I’ll be telling the judge, mark my words.”

  “These are our kids, not just yours, and the court gave me custody, Bryson. Full custody, you piece of shit. That means what you just did is kidnapping, and that’s a felony.”

  “No judge would say that.”

  “Actually, you’re wrong. They say it all the time as they convict assholes like you. Now, give them back, and I’ll think about not reporting you, when all this crap blows over,” she shouted, waving her hand around to indicate the chaos all around them.

  “You wouldn’t do that to their daddy. They’d hate you for it.” His glancing eyes belied his plastic smirk.

  She forged ahead. “Really? Where I’m standing, that solves a pile of my problems. Give them back, right now, or you are going to pound-me-in-the-ass prison, and I won’t lose a wink of sleep. You’re too pretty for jail. Five seconds to decide.”

  In the purse, she placed her finger on the pistol trigger. One way or another, she was getting her kids back today. How dare that sonuvabitch—

  A man’s voice rang out from behind and to her right, making her and Bryson both jump. “You folks shouldn’t argue like that in front of the kids. Don’t mind us, though. We aren’t here for your little family squabble.”

  Christine’s head spun. A man and a woman, cresting a low hill only thirty feet away, were approaching. They looked dirty, and he had a bandage around his head. Skinny, both of them. But he also had a rifle—and it was pointed at Bryson.

  For once, Christine was glad to see people viewing Bryson as the greater threat, as a man. A thought flashed through her head. If the bandits killed Bryson, it could solve a lot of problems. If she then shot and killed the bandit who killed their daddy, she’d be the hero, and they’d witness her getting revenge for their father’s murder… But no. Seeing their father murdered was not in her kids’ best interest. Dammit.

  As that realization hit her, two more people came over the hill, another man and woman. How many of them were there? Christine glanced back at the car to gauge the distance, but saw there was no way she and Mary could get in and take off before the rifleman could get shots off at them, nor could she leave her children in any case. No way to get them and
leave Bryson, either.

  Crap.

  57

  David blinked. Rope? Not around? “Sir, I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

  Cobi shrugged. “You don’t have to. You just have to do your job and uphold the law. The law says this guy needs to be executed, and he shall. I don’t like the idea of doing it myself, and I can’t ask you to pull the trigger, but you won’t have to. I’m going to tell everyone who Wiley is, even before my idiot kidnapper wakes up from his little nap, and a lynch mob will handle the rest.”

  Orien, frowning, said, “Wiley saved your life. He saved a cop’s life. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

  David hesitated, though. “Sir, I… We can’t—”

  “Oh, shush.” Cobi glared at David, but quickly replaced the expression with a plastic smile again. “You aren’t going to do anything to stop them. Those are the people you swore to protect, and you’ll have to shoot them to keep the noose away. Hanging a murderer who fooled them into trusting him is going to give them a boost of confidence, and they need that right now. We need a ‘win,’ and this is it. But why would you care if he gets hung? He got the death sentence already, and you’re a law enforcement officer. You enforce the law. It’s what you do. Don’t think of it as a lynching, just think of it as…speeding justice up a bit.”

  That’s what Wiley said he did.

  The thought struck David like a hammer to the forehead. Cobi had ordered him to do the same thing, and he had a point. Wiley was a death-row inmate, or had been before the world went dark. He had to face the consequences of that. A court had said so. So why did David feel like he wanted to throw up, then?

  Cobi continued, “And just as important as confidence in themselves, they need confidence in their leadership. By getting ahead of this problem with Wiley, and embracing the inevitable ending, I’ll be the one leading the people, and they’ll all see me doing it. Of course, none of you can say a word about my…my temporary insanity back there. Everything just happened so fast, I needed a minute to get my bearings. Let’s not hurt these people by damaging their trust in this town’s leaders, okay?”