The Off Grid Survivor Box Set: Complete The Off Grid Survivor Series Books 1-4

by Connor Mccoy

  The sound of thumps drew Liam toward his mother’s and Tom’s bedroom. He was headed there anyway, to talk to his mom, to find additional comfort, but when he pushed open her door, he discovered his mother putting clothes in a suitcase.

  “What are you doing?” Liam asked.

  “I’m finding somewhere else to stay,” Sarah said.

  “You’re leaving?” Liam cried, “Why?”

  Sarah bowed her head. “I don’t deserve to be here.” She sounded like she was choking back sobs. “Liam, I took your father away from you. I stole everything you could have had with him. Then you got him back, only to lose him again.” She slipped her knuckle into her mouth and bit softly on it.

  “Mom, we talked about this. I’m through blaming you.”

  “Liam, your father is dead. I drove him to this!” She broke from him and dashed to the other side of the bed, by the wall. “This is my fault!”

  “And you think he’d have wanted you to leave?” Liam pointed to the door.

  “Liam, what am I supposed to do? I can’t live with myself.” Sarah pointed to the mirror on the dresser. “I see his face everywhere I look! It’s like it’s here, but I don’t know what to say to him!”

  “Mom.” Liam grabbed Sarah. “I don’t want to lose you, too. I want you to stay with me. My son needs his grandma. I need you.”

  Sarah collapsed in Liam’s arms, and sobbed. “Liam!”

  “Mom.” Liam blinked back tears. “Dad, he would have wanted you to say. He said he forgave you for everything. This house…it’s mine, and it’s yours to stay in.”

  Sarah sank her head a little deeper into her son’s chest. “Liam…you don’t hate me?”

  Liam patted his mother’s back. “Mom, I never, never hated you.”

  “Thank you.” Sarah relaxed a little. “Thank you for telling me that. I needed to know.”

  Liam pushed open the door. One lonely soul sat at the table, but not in the chair where his father frequently sat. Tom sat there, his head hanging over the table. His arm rested there, outstretched, as if he was holding a drink, yet nothing was there.

  “Hey,” Liam said, “would you like an actual drink?”

  Tom looked up at Liam with tired eyes. “I came out here expecting to see your dad. I just realized I’ll never be able to talk with him again like we did every night out here.”

  Liam strolled up to his father’s seat. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to carry on the tradition without him.”

  Tom shook his head. “I screwed up,” he muttered. “Couldn’t keep watch worth a damn. Didn’t see those bastards get in the house. Never saw them casing the place.”

  “They’re military. We’re lucky they didn’t tear the roof off and repel down on cables to get us.” He pulled out his father’s old chair. “You did the best you could. You shouldn’t feel guilty.”

  Tom let out a loud gasp. “It’s going to be a long time before I ever can believe that.” He placed his head onto the table. “Me and Sarah, we’ll find somewhere else.”

  “Knock it off,” Liam said, “I already told Mom you’re staying. That includes both of you.”

  Tom raised his head. “Are you sure?”

  Liam sat in his dad’s chair. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” He straightened out his dark blue T-shirt. “Now, how about you go dig us out a drink? Dad’s cabinet is still full, and the night is still early.”

  Tom climbed to his feet. “Sure,” he said, “and, thanks.”

  But suddenly, Liam turned in his chair and called back to Tom. “Hey, I think you should hold off on that.” He rose from his seat. “I don’t want to go to bed before we’ve had a chance to prepare a place. For Dad.”

  Tom paced back to Liam, stopping short of the table. “You have any idea where he should rest?”

  Liam turned his head to the farmland beyond the porch. The moonlight washed over an apple tree in the distance, on a hilly ground not far from the apple orchards.

  “You know, Dad had a tough life, but I think he still loved his folks and his family a lot. Up there, with Grandpa, I think that’d be the perfect place.”

  “Need a hand?”

  Tom and Liam looked over their shoulders. Camilla approached, her gait a bit shaky, her eyes tired and heavy. “Let me help. There’s no way I can think of sleeping until Conrad has been able to rest.”

  Liam smiled. “Hey. I’m sure my dad would love that.”

  Before any of them could depart, the side door opened. Sarah, dressed in loose gray jogging attire, stepped outside and joined them. “Could you use another hand?” she asked. “It’s the only thing I can do for him now, the only thing to repay him for all the kindness he showed me, all the kindness I didn’t deserve.”

  Liam walked over. “Hey, the more the merrier.” Then he hugged her. As he looked over his mother’s shoulder, he spotted Carla in the doorway, holding their son in his arms.

  “I’d help,” Carla said, “I want to.”

  Patting his mother on the back, Liam replied, “It’s alright. You’re taking care of his grandson. That will let us finish the work by morning.”

  Carla nodded while blinking back tears. “Thank you.”

  Liam parted from his mother to gaze at the assembled party on the patio. “Okay. We’ll prepare Dad’s resting spot.” Then he turned to Tom. “Then, we’ll have that drink.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Deaden watched as the first wave of men closed in on the outskirts of Hooper City. She took a step forward, but then Gin spoke up. “The second unit hasn’t moved in yet.”

  “I know. But I want to proceed in behind the first unit,” Deaden said.

  “That’s never been your style, Captain,” Gin said.

  “The reports say this city is calm, peaceful, no nuts running the place. I think I’ll be fine,” Deaden replied.

  “All the same,” Gin said, walking in front of her, “I’d rather take a bullet before you do.”

  Deaden almost cracked a smile. “Thanks.”

  The captain waited until the first unit was about eight paces ahead before hiking down the street. Ten more soldiers surrounded her.

  “I’d feel better if we sent along an announcement,” Gin said.

  “And let these hicks know we’re coming?” Matthew asked with a sneer. “Might as well use the element of surprise.”

  “Halt!” shouted the unit leader up ahead.

  “What the hell’s going on?” Gin asked.

  Deaden stepped out from behind Gin to get a better look. The first unit had come to a stop near a small group of townspeople who had clustered in a semicircle, as if they all were gathered to obscure something. One of them, a balding, middle-aged man, stood in front of them.

  “What’s going on, Lieutenant?” Gin shouted.

  The unit leader turned around. “These guys say they’re the town’s leaders.”

  “Leaders?” Deaden started marching toward them.

  “Captain!” Gin called after her.

  “Bring your asses with me. These are the people I want to talk to,” Deaden said.

  In a short time, she had joined up with her first unit, forming a crowd of twenty soldiers in all, with more still behind her. The man in front of the group folded his arms as if this was no big deal to him. “You the lady in charge?” he asked.

  “Captain Joanne Deaden,” Deaden said.

  “Nigel Crane. Around here they call me and my friends Councilors of the City,” Nigel replied.

  “Well, count me impressed that you came out here so quickly to greet us. That makes my job a lot easier,” Deaden said.

  “What job is that?” Reg asked, standing beside Nigel.

  “The distribution of your town’s resources to the refugee camps,” Gin replied. “Depending on the state of your citizens, we may require you to relocate.”

  “Our city is fine the way it is,” Nigel said. “I assure you, no relocation is necessary. But if you require assistance, we’ll be happy to negotiate a fair de
al.”

  “Negotiation? I think you’ve got the wrong idea about us, hayseed,” Matthew said. “We’re the men and women in charge. What we say goes.”

  “Is that a fact, kid?” Nigel asked.

  Matthew’s nostrils flared. “Hey! Watch it! Nobody calls me ‘kid,’ and definitely not some country trash like you.”

  “Mister Crane, I have more than sixty armed soldiers behind me, with even more backing them up,” Deaden said quickly to cut in before a commotion broke out. “I am in no mood for bullshitting.”

  “We’re not bullshitting either, Captain.” Nigel took a couple of steps forward. “In fact, we’re very serious.”

  A few other men stepped forward, revealing a metal barrel. One of them threw a soaked rag into it, and a fire suddenly rose from inside. Two men then dipped their sticks inside and caught the flame on the tips.

  Deaden sniffed the air. It was oil. “Shit!” She and the rest of the men backed away, with the soldiers pointing their guns at them.

  “Like I said, we’re very serious,” Nigel said as a young man calmly handed the store owner his own torch.

  “Are you crazy? What, you’re going to throw torches at us?” Matthew pointed his pistol at Nigel’s hand. “We can mow you down from six feet away!”

  “Oh, these aren’t for you. They’re for the town,” Nigel said calmly.

  Deaden walked to look down the street. Other citizens had gathered outside, clutching their own torches.

  “Go ahead. Take a little walk. See just how many of us are willing to torch the city before you lay your hands on it,” Nigel said.

  Deaden stiffened up. “Gin, go get the men and have them fan out into the city. This is purely reconnaissance. Do not, repeat do not open fire unless someone shoots first.”

  “Captain, I say we take these jokers out now before they do something stupid,” Matthew said.

  “You have your orders!” Deaden barked.

  A couple of hours later, Deaden’s scouts returned with the same stories. No matter what street they explored, they encountered men and women with flaming torches. Even if the soldiers started gunning them down, enough of the residents still could ignite their homes and stores, and there were no immediate sources of water to douse the flames.

  “These people are crazy,” Matthew said when the final news was delivered. “Do all of these assholes want to burn their own city down?”

  “Not crazy. Committed,” Nigel said. “I think you get it now, Captain. You can shoot us, kill us, but there’ll be enough of us left to start the fire, and it’s going to be hell to try stopping it,” Nigel said.

  “You’d do this just to stop us from helping the people who survived, the people who are starving, the people who are hurt?” Gin shouted.

  “We’re all on board for that,” Nigel said. “What we’re not on board for is a military dictatorship. We keep the city and our arms. That, or no deal.”

  “Oh, screw off!” Matthew said, approaching with a rifle in hand. “Captain, let’s take this so-called council into custody.”

  “Pull back.”

  Matthew turned, his eyes wide as if he couldn’t believe what he was saying. “Captain?”

  “I said pull back,” Deaden said, slowly and intensely.

  Matthew’s jaw dropped open. “Again? Again!” He marched up to her, his boots making deep imprints in the dirt. “Captain, this is too much for me! One chickenshit farm is one thing, but a whole town? What do we tell the Colonel?”

  Deaden turned to Matthew, her eyes afire. “What would you have us do? Murder hundreds, maybe more than a thousand people?”

  “And if we can’t make these people bend, then what good are we?” Matthew asked.

  Deaden’s hand shook. “We’re here to put this land back together. Nothing else matters.”

  Matthew looked away, his face contorted in disgust. Gin just looked at Deaden, showing both concern and understanding.

  But suddenly Matthew snapped. He turned his gun toward Nigel. “Forget it! I didn’t come here to play around with these retarded hicks!”

  A shot rang out. But it wasn’t Matthew’s. Matthew never had a chance to fire. Gin shot off one round, clean, and to the chest. Matthew stumbled over and then collapsed face first in the dirt.

  Gin straightened up. “I didn’t join up with this outfit to put my boot on people’s necks.”

  Deaden turned to her men. Some of them smiled. They agreed with Deaden and Gin. A few of the others shrank back or stood around stone-faced. Even if there was disagreement, it seemed clear no one was about to mutiny to support it.

  However, that didn’t mean Deaden was going to pull the plug on this mission. She turned back to Nigel. “I still have sick and starving people to take care of. I won’t take your city, but I can’t walk away with nothing.”

  “We have good, strong people in this city,” Nigel said. “How about forty-five percent?”

  Deaden nodded. “From a city this size, I can accept that.”

  Nigel then nodded. A teenage boy ran up with a box of canned goods. “Here’s our token of good will. You can take that and some more back with you today.”

  “So, you didn’t just have torches to greet us?” Gin asked, sounding a little amused.

  Nigel drew in a long breath before answering. “We hoped for the best, but got ready for the worst.”

  Deaden directed one of her men to take the package. “You remind me of somebody I once met.”

  “Really?” Nigel asked, “What was this person like?”

  “Stubborn, pigheaded,” Deaden said, “and somebody that’d do anything for his friends.”

  “Maybe I’ve met him,” Nigel said as Deaden’s soldiers gathered the packages.

  Deaden nodded. “Yeah.”

  Once the army had secured the load from the city, Deaden directed them to pull out, but warned Nigel an emissary would appear regularly to collect supplies. “Oh, I forgot. What’s the name of this city?” Deaden asked.

  “Liberty,” Nigel said.

  One of the soldiers frowned. “I thought the sign on the road said, ‘Hooper City.’”

  Nigel chuckled softly. “So it does. Funny, huh? Guess we should get around to changing that.”

  Deaden’s lips curved upward, forming a slight smile. “We’ll take your contributions now, and we’ll be off.”

  Reg watched the last of the troops leave. “You know, we’re never going to be fully out from under their thumb. This still leaves us with one of their hooks in us.”

  “It was either that, or we all die,” Jeff said. “We probably came out with the best deal we could.”

  Nigel nodded. He kept his gaze on the departing soldiers. “I wonder what he’d think of our little stunt.”

  Jeff looked at Nigel. “So, Liberty?”

  Nigel smiled. “Thought we should make a statement.”

  Liam looked up. The apple tree never looked fuller. He almost laughed. The tree looked thin and gloomy the first time he had laid eyes on it. But eighteen years later, the tree’s branches had grown out so much it had become the pride of the farm.

  Makes sense, Liam thought. Everything Dad had done around here has prospered. Why shouldn’t this tree?

  He turned to watch the crowd approach the tree. His own family had arrived just a few minutes ago, and soon the rest of the household would gather in celebration. “Alright. Let’s get ready to wish your grandpa a happy seventy-eighth birthday.”

  Little Conrad scratched the back of his neck, just below his thick dark hair. The teenager was tall—so much that he overshot his dad and had to step back a little to keep from having a branch smack him in the head. He turned his gaze to the ground just under the apple tree.

  A younger teenager, about fifteen years of age, looked at his mom behind him. “Is Grandma Camilla making cookie cake again this year?”

  Carla brushed back her long brown hair. It was kept together by the braids, courtesy of the two ten-year-old girls beside her. “Definitely
. I made sure she remembered.”

  “Grandma Sarah’s a better cook,” said the thirteen-year-old boy seated on the grass. Then he laughed.

  Carla leaned over him. “Riley, don’t let Grandma Camilla hear you say that, young man.”

  “Don’t let me hear what?” Camilla asked as she climbed up the hill. Tom walked beside her, with Sarah on his other side.

  “Is someone talking bad about my cooking?” As she approached, she narrowed her eyes at the teenager. “Careful young man, because I hear that somebody’s finally been able to make some ice cream.” She grinned. “And I know who it is, and if you aren’t nice, you don’t get any.” Then she playfully flicked Riley’s nose.

  “Who’s got ice cream?” James asked, scratching the side of his short light brown hair.

  “She’s talking about Lance,” Sarah replied.

  “You know that working freezer? Last year they were able to make some ice cream with it,” Tom said. “Now, we can’t broadcast this everywhere because the poor guy’s going to get mobbed.”

  “I’ve never had ice cream before,” said one of the girls, who straightened out her long red skirt as she spoke.

  “Well, Bonnie, ice cream is something very cold and very tasty.” Sarah squatted down next to her. “And it comes in different flavors. You get strawberry or chocolate or vanilla…”

  “And your head can explode if you eat too much of it,” Tom added.

  “Really?” James asked.

  Riley laughed. “He’s lying.”

  Tom ran a hand through his now fully silver hair. “Well, my head felt that way back in college when I overdosed on too much chocolate swirl.”

  As Tom chatted with the kids, Liam thought about how much had changed after his dad had passed. In the years since, Liam and Carla had had more children—James, Riley, and twin girls, Michelle and Bonnie. Carla then called it quits, saying she was done squeezing out “bundles of love” as she called them.