Both of Kate’s hands were now on the rifle, and she tugged and yanked with all her might, trying to wrest it from her adversary’s grasp. She managed to get up onto her knees, still gripping the butt, and through the gloom, she was able to make out most of the soldier’s writhing form as he struggled against both her and Nick. Kate knew that to get the gun out of his hands, she had to hurt him, and so she put her weight on the weapon, repositioned herself, and then swung her right knee into his crotch as hard as she could.
Her knee connected, and the man grunted with pain but did not let go of the gun, so Kate kneed him between the legs again, and then again, driving her knee in with all the power she could muster each time. Finally, on the third strike, she managed to hit him hard enough that his grip on the stock slackened enough that she was able to rip it out of his hands.
And that was the turning point. Kate fell backward with the rifle in her hands, but recovered almost immediately, swinging it around in a mere second or two and gripping it like a seasoned professional. Kate may have been a city girl, but she had grown up in the mountains shooting, and it was something that she and Jack practiced on a weekly basis; a gun in her hands felt as natural as a pen or pencil.
“Nick, I’ve got the gun!” Kate yelled. “Get up and run!”
“I … can’t,” Nick growled. “He’s got … me in … a lock…”
The tables had turned, and although the soldier had lost his weapon, his superior combat skills and the fact that he was only fighting one opponent now meant that he had quickly gained the upper hand on Nick and had him in a lock. Nick was desperately trying to both prevent himself from being choked unconscious and getting stabbed but was slowly losing the fight on both of these counts—he could feel the blade edging steadily closer to his ribs.
“Let him go, you asshole!” Kate screamed. “I’ve got your gun, and I swear to God, I’ll blow you away with it if you don’t release him!”
“Go ahead and shoot, you crazy bitch!” the soldier snarled back. “You can’t see shit, so you’ll kill your boy as well as me!”
Kate was torn with indecision. The soldier was right; she couldn’t see what was going on, and if she fired, there was as great a chance that she’d shoot the soldier as a chance that she’d hit Nick.
The solution to her dilemma, however, came from Susan. A light flared up in the inky blackness, suddenly illuminating the space with a gentle orange glow. While Kate, Nick, and the soldier had been fighting, Susan had been desperately searching through her bag for the Zippo she always kept in it—another of her father’s suggestions—and finally, she’d found it.
“Now I can see you, you piece of shit,” Kate snarled, aiming at the soldier’s face. “And trust me when I say that over thirty years of shooting penny-sized groupings at fifty yards means that I will not miss your eyeball from this distance. Let him go now.”
The soldier’s eyes were wild in the dim light, but he could see the dangerous look in Kate’s eyes and knew that her threat was sincere. He slowly released Nick from his grip.
“Drop the knife, too,” she said. “Do it.”
The soldier reluctantly released the knife from his grasp. Nick grabbed it and made as if to scramble away from the man, but Kate shook her head. “Look on his hip, Nick, he’s probably got a pistol there.”
When Nick turned around to force the soldier to roll over, both Kate and Susan gasped with shock. The entire left side of his face and neck were dark and wet with blood, and they could plainly see that half of his left ear was missing. Nick was so charged-up on adrenalin from the fight that he hadn’t yet realized the extent of his injuries. When he forced the soldier to roll over, he saw that there was indeed a pistol holstered at his waist. He removed the weapon and then got up and stepped away from the soldier, who was growling wordlessly, like a possessed man, his face a contorted mask of pure rage and hatred.
“You fucking sheep scum are gonna regret this,” he snarled. “My boys will rip you apart.”
“Shut your ugly mouth,” Kate growled. “Nick, is there a way to lock the door?”
“The key’s upstairs,” he said, still amped from the intensity of the fight and unaware of the extent of his injury. “I’ll go get it.”
“Susan, go stand by the door,” Kate said to her daughter, never once taking her eyes off the soldier or lowering the rifle sights from his face.
She slowly backed away, moving toward the door, keeping the gun trained on him the whole time, while Susan, holding the lighter, moved cautiously toward the door. Nick ran upstairs to get the key to the door.
“Who set off the EMP and attacked the city?” Kate asked coldly. “Why have you people done this?”
An evil smile came across the soldier’s face, and a smug glint gleamed in his eyes. “We are many,” he muttered, “many more than you pitiful civilians could ever realize. And we’re just doing what had to be done, what was long overdue.”
“Drop the bullshit and give me some straight answers,” she demanded. “Who are you people, and what the hell do you think you can possibly achieve with what’s happened? Do you realize how many innocent people are going to die because of this? Do you understand what you’ve done? And the day before a superstorm hits! You people are psychotic; you’re a bunch of cowardly mass murderers!”
“In the natural world, only the strong survive,” he said, smiling malevolently as if he were immensely proud of what he and his associates had accomplished. “But in your world—the weak and the pathetic and the sponges, the parasites—have been allowed to thrive for too long. They’ve corrupted and destroyed everything this country was supposed to stand for. We’re just restoring the natural balance.”
“You’re sick,” Kate hissed. “You’re a sick, demented murderer, and I should pull this trigger. I should. But we’re not like you, and we never will be.”
“And that’s why you’ll die in the next few days, just like all the other weak sheep,” the soldier sneered. “We’re just thinning the herd, culling those who deserve death … like you three.”
“Only God decides who deserves to die and who deserves to live,” Kate said coolly. “Not you, not me. And anyone who thinks they have the right to play God, like you so obviously do, is nothing more than a mass-murdering maniac. And what’s more, you’re wrong about us. We’re not weak. We’re not sheep. We’re going to survive … because good people, honorable people, we do survive, contrary to everything murderous cowards like you believe. We’re going to survive; I promise you that. And you and your murderer friends are going to turn on each other, just like the cannibals you are and slaughter each other like animals … and all for power. That’s why you’re doing this, not because you respect nature or the natural order. Because you, like all greedy, selfish, murderous men, are really after only one thing: power. You can deny it all you want, but it’s the truth, the cold hard truth.”
Nick came jogging down the stairs holding the key to the dojo door. “The fighting outside has stopped, at least for now,” he said. “We’d better make a run for it while we can.”
“Agreed,” Kate said. “Lock this psycho in here, and we’ll go.”
“We’ll meet again, sheep,” the soldier snarled as they closed the door on him and locked it. “And when we do, you’ll regret not killing me because this is the only chance you’ll get to do that. Mark my words!”
He continued to yell at them in the dark after they had closed and locked the door, but his words were muffled and unintelligible.
“Are you sure the fighting’s over outside?” Kate asked. She quickly popped the M-16’s magazine out and saw that there were still a few bullets in it, not many, but enough.
“It’s quiet from what I can tell,” Nick answered, with blood still streaming down his neck from his mutilated ear.
“All right, then we’d better go … but first, I need to take care of that ear of yours.”
“It’s fine,” he said, still not having realized the severity of the injury. “
It’s just a cut, and…” He reached up to touch it, and when his fingers found that half of it was gone, his eyes bulged with shock … and then he passed out.
13
“Stop shooting. Stop shooting. Are you crazy?”
Jack heard those words—which came from an older woman and were heavy with a foreign accent—yelled out from the other side of the store. They were not directed at him though—and couldn’t be because he had yet to fire a shot.
He was more concerned with all of the blood on the floor, which was certainly his. Had he been shot? He’d heard that when pumped up on intense adrenalin, one could get seriously injured but not realize or feel it until much later. With his heart hammering and his breath coming in short, sharp gasps, Jack checked himself over under the flimsy cover of the coat rack he was lying next to. He quickly saw where the blood was coming from, and luckily, it wasn’t a bullet wound. One of the glass shards had given him a nasty cut on his forearm, and blood was dripping out of it at a rather alarming rate. The gash would need stitches soon, but for the moment, it wasn’t a life-threatening injury.
“Hey, pal, are you uh, are you okay?” a different voice called out. This one had the accent of a local and sounded like it belonged to a middle-aged man. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shoot, just with that crazy shitstorm outside, we’re all shittin’ bricks here, you know what I mean?”
“I’m okay,” Jack called out warily, wondering if this was some sort of trap. “I just want to get away from what’s happening outside, that’s all.”
“You can stand up, man. I won’t shoot, I promise.”
“Are you sure about that?” Jack asked.
“I promise, man, shit. I’m really sorry about shooting at you. I uh, shit—I’m an idiot,” the unknown man said sheepishly.
Jack tucked his pistol into the back of his pants, where it wouldn’t be seen from the front, but where he could reach it easily if needed, and slowly stood up. He saw an overweight security guard with a bushy, red beard, and an elderly Korean woman, who looked as if she might be the store owner.
A look of immense relief came across the security guard’s face when he saw Jack stand up. “Oh, thank God,” he said, letting out a great, heaving sigh of relief. “For a second there, I thought I’d … you know. I’m so sorry, man. I just—We’re on edge here. The world looks like it’s ending, this place is has turned into a warzone, and I just, I’m freaking the hell out.”
“He being crazy! Whole world being crazy!” the Korean woman exclaimed.
“You two need to get out of here,” Jack said, walking briskly toward them as the sounds of the battle intensified outside.
“I can’t,” the security guard said. “My car’s out there. How am I gonna get home? I live across the bridge. It’s ten miles from here. I figured we’d just wait here until, until whatever that is outside is over, then I’ll make a quick getaway.”
“My car also outside,” the Korean woman said, pointing toward the battle-torn street.
“I’m sure you’ve both noticed that your phones aren’t working anymore, and neither is anything else that uses electricity,” Jack said as he reached them. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but the same goes for your cars. You’ll never drive ‘em again. They’re as good as scrap now.”
The security guard’s face fell. “Are you serious, man? I just made my last payment!”
“I’m sorry, but your car’s nothing more than a lump of metal,” Jack said. “There’s nothing else I can tell you; every car made in the last fifty years is now as useless as a chunk of stone.”
“My new BMW is … broken?” the Korean woman asked, looking crestfallen.
“I’m sorry, but yes. It’s broken beyond repair. And even if your vehicles were somehow salvageable after what just happened … they’re getting ripped to shreds out there. They’re gonna be torn to pieces by the time that battle’s over.”
“What do we do?” the security guard asked, looking lost.
“I’d suggest taking all of the cash out of here,” Jack suggested, “although how valuable paper money is going to be given what’s happened is debatable. Get your hands on as many canned goods, dehydrated food, stuff like that as you can. And do what you can to get out of the city, although if you haven’t got a place outside to shelter from the blizzard, I guess you’ll just have to stay in your apartments here. But if I were you, I’d plan on getting out of town and getting as far away as possible as soon as the blizzard’s over.”
“You’re making this sound like it’s literally the end of the world,” the security murmured, with a look of incredulity drawn across his face. “I mean, sure, this is … war, I guess, but, but things will go back to normal, eventually. My grandpa lived in Poland in World War II, and he told me that things went back to normal after a few years, even after the Germans pretty much leveled the place. And hell, even places like Hiroshima, flattened by an atomic bomb, they got back to normal after a few years.”
“I’m sorry, but I really don’t think that this is like World War II or any other war we’ve ever known in human history,” Jack said. “This is the fall of global civilization as we know it.” He paused after saying those words, and the full force of what was happening finally hit him like a sledgehammer to his skull. He knew full well what the EMP strike meant and the consequences it would have, but saying it out loud, spelling it out in such clear and stark terms, really drove the immense impact of it home like nothing else.
The security guard and the store owner looked at him with expressions of utter disbelief. It was clear that even with the chaos erupting outside, the concept of everything they knew and valued no longer existing was simply beyond their ability to grasp or truly comprehend.
“Are you sure about this?” the security guard eventually murmured. “That … everything’s … broken, and can’t … be fixed?”
“I’m pretty sure about it.” It was about the only thing Jack could say.
“Your arm,” the Korean woman said, staring at Jack’s arm, from which blood was freely dripping, with a look of concern on her face. “You need see doctor.”
“I wouldn’t want to be going anywhere near any hospitals, not after what’s happened,” he said to her. Then, an idea popped into his head. This woman owned a clothing store and surely had plenty of experience with clothing. “Do you know how to sew?” he asked.
“Sew? Yes, I can sew.”
“Please, help me stitch up this cut,” he said. “It’s not too different from sewing fabric. I’d do it myself, but it’s not so easy to do with just one hand.”
“Oh, I … um okay, I try,” she said uncertainly.
The sound of gunfire outside intensified. “We’d better get to the back of the building before any of us get hit with stray rounds,” Jack said.
“Yeah, man, we’ve stuck around here too long already,” the security guard said. “Come on, Mrs. Park, empty the tills, and let’s get outta here. There’s no point in staying. Your clothes aren’t worth dying over, and if someone steals ‘em, they steal ‘em.”
Mrs. Park stared at the store with a look of sadness and helplessness on her face, but she nodded. There was no reason to stick around, and right now, with bullets flying thick and fast outside, looters were the least of their worries. She hastily emptied the tills of cash, gave the security guard a few hundred dollars of it, and then they all ran out to the alley behind the store. With a few layers of brick and concrete walls now between them and the battle in the main street, Jack felt a lot safer—not safe by any means, but far safer than when he’d been inside the store.
He got his first aid kit out of his bugout bag, hurriedly cleaned the long, deep cut on his forearm with surgical alcohol, and then gave Mrs. Park some latex gloves, a needle, and thread. Her sewing experience meant that the job of sewing up Jack’s cut was relatively easy for her, and she did a good of it.
“Thank you,” he said to her when she finished. “I really appreciate that.”
“What are you gonna do now?” the security guard asked.
“Find a way across the river and get back to my apartment,” Jack answered. “I have to meet my family there.”
“Mind if I tag along, just until we get across the river?” the security guard asked. “I can watch your back; you watch mine, know what I’m sayin’?”
“Okay,” Jack said. “Mrs. Park, what are you going to do?”
“My apartment close. Three blocks that way. I go home,” she said, pointing north.
“Go straight there,” Jack said, “and when you’re inside, stay locked up. Do what you can to get and store as much food and water as possible. And try to get a gun if you don’t have one. Good luck, and thanks again for stitching me up.”
“Okay, no problem,” she said, giving him a weak, sad smile.
She turned around and walked off, and a pang of sadness ripped through Jack. She didn’t have much of a chance considering what was coming, he knew. He could only hope that somehow luck stayed on her side and that she survived what was coming.
“All right, man, let’s go,” the security guard said. He checked the ammo in his pistol and gripped it in both hands. The way he held it told Jack he wasn’t much of an expert when it came to firearms, but it was good to have a second pair of eyes and ears around for a while. “I’m Bernie, by the way.”
“I’m Jack,” Jack said, shaking his hand.
“Sorry again for uh, almost killing you back there,” Bernie said sheepishly.
“Don’t worry about it,” Jack said. “Just be a bit more cautious with that trigger finger in future. Now, let’s—” he paused before finishing the sentence.
A fat white snowdrop had just settled on his nose. He looked up and saw more snow coming down from the darkening sky, which was quickly growing thick with heavy clouds. Then an icy wind howled through the alley.
The blizzard was on its way.
Survive the Day Boxset: EMP Survival in a Powerless World Page 59
