One held a gun. Pointed right at her.
There was a vicious smile on his face.
“I told you that’d be hilarious.”
“It was even better than I thought it’d be.”
“Shit, we should do this with everyone we get.”
“The best part is when they think they’ve gotten away.”
“Definitely the best.”
Jessica’s heart was pounding. Her body was telling her to run. She was entering panic again.
But they’d just shoot her.
There was no point in running.
Slowly, she raised her hands into the air. She was frozen in place, her feet firmly planted on the ground.
15
Rob
Rob didn’t know where he was going. He didn’t have the slightest idea.
The Subaru engine was whining terribly, the tachometer pushing into the red zone.
He was forgetting to shift. And he knew that wasn’t good. He was wasting gas. Putting unnecessary strain on the small four-cylinder engine.
But his mind was a nexus of panic and focus. All he could think about was getting to Jessica. Rescuing her. Fighting with everything he had.
He was aware that he wasn’t approaching this rationally. He wasn’t acting the way Jim would have acted.
Jim would have taken a mental step back from the situation, evaluated his options, and proceeded calmly and diligently along the best route.
Instead, Rob felt like he was just plowing on full steam ahead without really considering the consequences.
After all, what happened when he ran out of gas?
What happened when he found himself stranded, unsure of how to get back?
What happened if he crashed? After all, he was driving erratically.
He was doing everything wrong. There were a thousand errors he could potentially make. And they were all more likely in his current mental state.
And, still, there was no sign of Jessica.
There was no sign of anyone.
All he knew was that he was heading southwest. Well, he didn’t even know that for sure. It was just his best guess.
Rob hadn’t spent much time outside the greater Rochester area. Aside from a couple of trips to New York City when he was younger, and a few school field trips, he’d barely seen what was beyond his immediate surroundings.
And before now, he’d never seen a problem with that. He’d figured that everything was pretty much the same everywhere. He’d figured that if he’d been to New York City, where he’d been shocked by the rudeness of the people and the speed with which the organized chaos moved, he’d pretty much seen it all.
Now he was wishing he’d at least glanced at a few maps. Or spent a little time with one of those web pages that showed you an area’s topographical features.
Rob was out of his element.
Pine trees rushed by as he drove along at a brisk eighty-five miles per hour.
His eyes were constantly moving, scanning the road for any sign of a motorcycle.
But what was he going to find?
The riders were long gone. Jessica was long gone.
It wasn’t as if they’d leave behind a calling card. It wasn’t as if they’d leave behind some item that was immediately recognizable as belonging to them, like a motorcycle helmet or a pair of leather saddle bags.
For the first time since he’d sped away from the lake house, Rob seriously considered turning around.
After all, had he even done the responsible thing? He’d left Aly there, protected only by her uncle. And Jordan certainly wasn’t someone you could rely on. Not in a life-or-death situation.
He’d done what he’d thought was best, and now he was second-guessing himself.
It had been an impossible call.
After all, he’d known in that instant, as he’d watched the motorcycles speeding away, that there was no getting Jessica back once she was gone.
It was a one in a million chance she’d return. And it’d be all up to her. She’d have to escape herself. Then find her way back. Without any gear. Without a map. Without knowing where she was.
Jessica was capable. More so than Rob. More so than a lot of people. But that didn’t mean she’d be able to escape her captors.
Especially not with a blow to the head.
Rob was panicking. His breathing was ragged. His thoughts were going every which way.
He was sweating, even though the air was cool and the windows were down.
His vision was going fuzzy around the periphery.
Rob made a snap decision.
He jerked the wheel, and the Subaru careened to the side of the road, crunching over some gravel that lay on the shoulder.
Rob slammed on the brakes.
The car shuddered to a stop.
He forgot to hit the clutch, and the engine stalled.
There he was, sitting on the side of the road, the nose of the Subaru pointing out towards the trees, its rear bumper hanging into the road.
Without the sound of the engine, silence seemed to ring out. It was an overwhelming silence, one that cut right through him.
The only thing he could hear was his own heart pounding.
Rob threw the door open and bolted out into the road.
He was freaking out.
He hadn’t felt this bad since... he couldn’t remember when.
He stood there in the middle of the road, leaning forward, his hands on his knees, breathing like he’d just run a marathon, cold sweat covering his forehead.
He had to get it together.
People’s lives depended on the decision he was about to make.
If he continued on, he was putting Aly at risk. Not to mention himself. Who knew what dangers lay beyond this stretch of road.
If he turned back, that’d be it for Jessica.
Rob wasn’t cut out for these types of decisions.
What would Jim have done?
Would he have cut their losses and turned around?
No, Jim would have thought of something much cleverer a long time ago. He would have nipped the situation in the bud. Right from the beginning, he would have acted differently.
But that was because he was Jim and not Rob.
Maybe Rob just needed to go with his gut. All this thinking was driving him crazy. He’d never been an intellectual sort of guy. He’d always let his gut and instinct drive him.
And look where it’d gotten him. Too many lost jobs to count. Too many unpaid bills and long-standing legal problems.
Well, he had a clean slate now. He didn’t owe anyone any money. There wasn’t even any money.
Maybe his instincts just hadn’t worked well in the modern world. Maybe the modern pre-EMP world had worked against what came naturally to him.
Maybe in the post-EMP world, his gut instincts would serve him correctly. Maybe humans were wired for life-and-death survival situations. And those prewired instincts simply didn’t work well when it came to credit scores and reliable employment. Maybe all along, Rob had been fighting against impulses that would now serve him well.
Or maybe he was completely wrong. After all, he’d been wrong too many times to count.
His gut was telling him to keep going. To search for Jessica.
Maybe it wasn’t what Jim would do.
But Rob wasn’t Jim.
Rob shook his head like a wet dog, trying to shake away the panic.
He took stock of his surroundings, trying to resettle himself.
He was alone on the road. It was just him and the stalled Subaru and the trees. Nothing for miles.
But that couldn’t have been the case. There must have been someone out there. Somewhere. Probably in hiding.
After all, it wasn’t like this part of the state was that deserted. Sure, there were fewer people here per square mile than there were in the greater Rochester area.
But it wasn’t deserted.
It wasn’t Wyoming.
Rob may not have known a lot. But he knew
that much.
So, there must have been someone around.
Maybe there was someone who knew something about some guys on motorcycles.
After all, it hadn’t been that long since the EMP. The chances that some biker guys had moved in from another area, well—that was certainly a possibility, but not as big of a possibility that they were native to the area.
Now that Rob had made his decision to press on, he was a little calmer. And now that he was a little calmer, he realized that his best course of action was to simply find someone from around here, ask them about local bikers, and then track Jessica down that way.
With a clear plan in his head, Rob rushed back to the Subaru.
He was still nervous, his hands and feet not completely under his control, and he stalled the wagon twice more while trying to start it.
But he got the engine started, put it in reverse, and got back on the road.
Now all he had to do was find someone.
He glanced at the gas tank.
Was it an eighth of a tank left? A quarter? It was hard to tell. The level always seemed different, depending on what angle he looked at it.
It didn’t matter much, anyway. All he had to do was get to Jessica. After that, they’d be able to get back with or without the Subaru. They’d figure something out.
Jessica was more important than the vehicle. And not just as a human being. But for her practical value as a member of the group. Rob knew very well that his own odds at survival were far stronger if Jessica was alive and well.
Rob was pretty sure he’d seen a house on the roadside a couple miles back. He’d just sped by it at the time and hadn’t given it a good look. But there was a good chance, he supposed, that someone local was still there.
He got the Subaru turned around and went speeding on down the road, headed towards that house.
It was a simple home, just one story, with a perched roof that covered a small attic. The yard in front was just dirt. There were a couple odds and ends scattered about, like old tires and rusty bicycles.
There wasn’t a car in the driveway, so Rob parked the Subaru there, making sure to lock the doors and pocket the keys.
Maybe no one was there. Maybe whoever lived there had left. Maybe they’d fled, thinking that other areas of the country would offer them solace. Or maybe they were already dead. Or stuck at work, never to return home again.
There were a thousand possibilities.
Rob felt strange, hoping that someone was actually at home. Normally, it would have been better to stay clear of anyone. People meant danger. People could mean death.
As Rob approached the house, he spotted something in the backyard.
If he wasn’t mistaken, it was a pickup truck hidden under a tarp. Someone had piled up leaves and sticks, trying to hide the shape of the vehicle. But from where Rob stood, it was unmistakable.
Rob gulped down the rising panic.
But this was what he wanted, wasn’t it? He needed to talk to someone.
As he approached the front door, Rob reached for his gun.
16
Jim
Somehow, Jim had reached the shore.
He lay there, gasping for air, breathing heavily, flat on his back.
He was freezing cold. His body was shivering almost uncontrollably. The water had been colder than he’d realized.
But there wasn’t any time to rest. He couldn’t let that fake cop get away.
Jim stood up, his wet pants clinging to him heavily.
Again, his hand reflexively went to the Ruger that wasn’t there.
He scanned his surroundings.
It was mostly just trees. A couple scrubby bushes here and there. A patch of sand. Some kind of beach. A couple of pieces of permanently installed exercise equipment. Pull-up bars and parallel bars.
A house stood about a hundred yards away. A regular, nondescript sort of house. Two stories.
No sign of Andy or the boat. Or the stolen gear.
It was hard to think quickly and clearly with his body exhausted, pushed to the very edge. But he concentrated on his breathing, which steadied his thoughts, and gave him some kind of stability.
Andy couldn’t be that far. Right now, he’d be trying to find a vehicle with which to abscond with the gear. He had to continue on land now, where the boat was of no use to him. He must be somewhere close by, near the shore.
The house. That was the answer.
There didn’t appear to be anyone home. Of course, it wasn’t as if he could go by whether lights were on or not.
But there were subtle signs that his eyes picked up. There wasn’t a car in the driveway. That was an obvious sign.
But there was something else, something about how the flag near the front door had gotten wrapped around the pole in the wind. No one had been there to untangle it.
Or maybe they’d been scared to.
Maybe there was someone holed up in the basement, clutching a shotgun or a butcher knife, shaking with fear.
It was a chance Jim had to take.
He made his way to the front door, his sopping wet clothes hanging heavily on his frame.
He tried the door handle before knocking. Unsurprisingly, it was unlocked.
That almost certainly meant there was no one home.
The door creaked open and Jim stepped across the threshold into the darkened downstairs. The curtains had been drawn and not much light entered.
Normally, he would have liked to take stock of the situation. He would have liked to understand his surroundings, to check to make sure there really wasn’t anyone there, and to check for anything useful that he could use.
But there wasn’t any time for that.
Jim’s body was exhausted, but the possibility of spotting Andy was giving him new energy. He bounded up the stairs, two at a time.
There was a small bedroom that faced the lake. Jim entered, stepping over the things that had been scattered across the floor, as if someone had been packing in haste and abandoned the project at the last minute.
At the window, Jim threw back the curtains.
Outside, the sky was gray. He could see the lake, which seemed to stretch endlessly out and into nothing. He couldn’t believe that he’d swum across it.
No sign of Andy.
Not yet, anyway.
Jim was patient.
He knew that it was normal for the human brain to miss seeing objects that were right there. He’d chatted with a former air force fighter pilot once. He’d just been some nondescript guy who’d wandered into Jim’s shop, and they’d happened to get to chatting. It turned out the guy had been a really good pilot, and he said the trick to it all was in the eyes.
Jim hadn’t known what he’d meant at first, and had asked him more about it.
The eyes, the guy had explained, move seemingly on their own. When there are blind spots, like the pillars in a car that border the windshield, your eyes skip right over them. And in doing so, they tend to miss things near the blind spots.
So, the answer, according to the former pilot, was to force yourself to focus your eyes on three distinct spots that span across the field of vision.
Jim had tried it out in his car, driving around Rochester. He’d found it fine at first, but as he’d kept practicing, he realized that he was noticing things that he would have otherwise missed. And then one day, it saved him getting plowed into by an enormous SUV that was coming towards him in his blind spot.
Jim did the trick now, focusing on three points outside the window.
And then he saw it.
It was the boat, tucked neatly away amid some shrubs.
It was about a half mile to the east.
If the boat was there, Andy would be nearby.
There was no time to waste.
It was unlikely that Andy’d managed to find a working vehicle in such a short amount of time. But there were plenty of other means by which he could escape. All he needed to find was a bicycle, and he could be off Ji
m’s radar in no time.
Jim raced back down the stairs, threw the door open, and took off at a run towards the east, where he’d seen the boat.
It wasn’t until he was halfway there, that the rush of adrenaline started to die off, leaving him with muscles so exhausted that they felt like nothing but dead weight.
He didn’t think he could keep going.
He slowed to a jog.
And then a walk.
And now he was barely making headway. Each step he took seemed impossibly difficult, impossibly painful. The lake had taken almost everything out of him already. He wasn’t sure how much he had left to give.
When he found Andy, how would he have the strength to fight?
There was no time to rest.
And that’s when he remembered, reaching for his Ruger, that he’d lost it.
His mind must have been scrambled from the fatigue. He should have searched the house for a weapon. For a knife. For a baseball bat. For anything at all.
Now he was empty-handed.
He’d reached the boat, his thoughts distracting himself from the painfully exhausting walk.
Nearby, the water lapped gently against the shore. The sky was gray, and the nervous chatter of small birds was nearby.
Jim looked towards the woods, and he saw Andy, dragging some kind of improvised sled, piled high with Jim’s own gear and supplies.
Jim reached again for the Ruger that wasn’t there, and his heart started pounding in his chest. It didn’t feel good, and it didn’t feel right. The beat felt fast and slow at the same time. It felt heavy, and it made him feel sick. It felt like his blood was cool.
He’d have to think of something. His eyes scanned the area for some kind of weapon. They settled on the boat’s paddle. It was big and heavy. Maybe too unwieldy to swing easily. But it would do serious damage if it smacked into a skull. Andy hadn’t swung it hard enough, but Jim knew that he could.
Off in the distance, Andy seemed to be struggling with getting the gear over something in the ground. Maybe some rocks. Maybe some jagged pieces of concrete that had been left there. Jim’s vision seemed worse than normal, and he couldn’t make it out.
Jim kept his eyes on Andy as he reached for the paddle.
Final Panic: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller (Surviving Book 2) Page 8
