Final Panic: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller (Surviving Book 2)

by Ryan Westfield

  Just as his hand wrapped around the wood of the paddle, Andy turned around and saw him. Andy’s eyebrows shot up and a look of fear took over his face.

  A scared enemy was a dangerous enemy.

  Andy’s hand went right for his gun. He was fumbling. And he clearly wasn’t a good shot. But it didn’t matter.

  All that mattered was that he had a gun and Jim didn’t.

  17

  Rob

  Rob knocked on the door. It felt strange to do so. It felt like he was being overly polite. After all, the world as they all had known it was over. Wasn’t knocking a little antiquated at this point?

  Or maybe not.

  After all, he didn’t want to get shot.

  Maybe going in with his hand on his gun wasn’t the best move. Sure, he had to be careful. But drawing first could lead to problems. Serious problems.

  He had to really force his hand to relax its grip on his gun. It wasn’t an easy thing for him to do.

  “Someone?” Rob heard, called loudly, from deep inside the house.

  And then silence.

  Rob knocked again.

  Someone was moving inside the house, unseen behind the thick door.

  “I mean no harm!” shouted Rob, as loudly as he could. “I’m looking for my friend. I just need some information.”

  A long silence.

  Rob knocked again. He wasn’t going to give up so easily.

  He figured that if he hadn’t been shot yet, chances were they weren’t going to shoot him. If he’d stumbled on the wrong house with the wrong inhabitants, they could have easily aimed down at him from an upstairs window with a shotgun.

  “I’m just looking for my friend! Just tell me through the window. Will you just come to the window?”

  Rob was feeling now like he wasn’t going to give up.

  Rob banged on the door, and he didn’t stop. He just kept going.

  Five minutes passed, and he kept banging.

  Finally, the door opened.

  It happened all of a sudden, and his hand went right through the open doorway, colliding with something.

  “Shit,” muttered someone.

  “Did I hit you?”

  Rob felt his hand inching towards his gun.

  Starting off by hitting the homeowner wasn’t exactly good. It wasn’t the first impression that Rob had hoped to make.

  “Are you OK? Did I get you bad?”

  He still couldn’t see who he’d accidentally hit.

  “I’m fine, damnit. Get inside. I don’t like to keep the door open.”

  It seemed strange, after so much trouble, to suddenly be allowed access to the home. Especially considering that they didn’t even ask him who he was, or whether or not he was armed.

  There wasn’t much light near the door, and Rob stepped across the threshold, his eyes not yet adjusted to the new levels of light.

  “Does it hurt?” said Rob.

  “I’ve had worse. Don’t build yourself up too much, you’re not that strong. Hell, I could knock you down with a single punch if I had to. I doubt you could say the same.”

  It was a man’s voice in the darkness. An old voice. But how old, Rob didn’t know.

  Rob didn’t know what to make of the words. Were they meant as threats? As jokes? All bets were off in this new world. Anything could happen.

  “Take a seat. Don’t wear out your shoes. You’re probably going to need them at some point. Now what’s this all about? Wait, just know that we’re not going to feed you. You’re on your own with that, young man.”

  Rob was more and more starting to feel like he was speaking to a man who had to be at least in his eighties.

  The man was talking almost nonstop, not giving Rob a chance to speak.

  “Well, what are you waiting for? There’s a couch right behind you. Don’t tell me you’re going to try to rob us. Because if that’s the case, you’d better just walk out the door now. Lonnie’s got a 12-gauge trained on you from the other room. Isn’t that right, Lonnie?”

  A woman’s voice answered from the other room. “That’s about right, Danny.”

  Rob didn’t want to seem like a threat, so he backed up, still not able to see anything, until the backs of his legs bumped into the cushioned couch.

  He fell back onto it and was surprised to find that it was an unusually comfortable couch. His body instantly felt more relaxed. The furnishings of the lake house had, of course, been the last thing on his mind. But suddenly he realized that they were far from the best available.

  “Now there’s a candle around here somewhere. I can’t see anything. Lonnie, where’d you put those candles?”

  “They’re where you left them.”

  “You had them last.”

  “I saw you with them earlier today.”

  “That was yesterday. Don’t start losing your mind on me, Danny.”

  There was a bunch of noise, papers being moved about, drawers being opened. Finally, the noise of a match being struck and then the glow of a candle that illuminated the old man’s face.

  Rob had been right. Well, probably. Danny looked like he was in his late eighties. And in pretty good shape. His shoulders were square, and he stood tall. He looked like the sort of man who had spent at least a few decades doing some serious manual labor.

  Rob watched as Danny settled himself into a rocking chair, holding the candle in front of him, which flickered in the drafty house.

  Rob could see a little over the surrounding room, and more as his eyes adjusted. It reminded him of his grandparents’ house, and other older relatives. There were framed photographs, cute little saucers and plates everywhere, and a piano that looked like it was used regularly.

  “So what’s this all about?” said Danny.

  “Well,” said Rob, starting to speak.

  “Wouldn’t you like some tea?” interrupted Lonnie, from the other room.

  It seemed strange to be offered tea by a woman who was supposed to be pointing a shotgun at him. But Rob was getting used to strange things and strange circumstances.

  “Come on, kid, have a cup of tea.”

  “Uh, all right, sure, I guess,” muttered Rob.

  “I’ll get the water boiling,” came Lonnie’s voice.

  Rob heard her leaving the room, presumably to enter the kitchen. He didn’t hear her putting down a shotgun. He figured that it’d be pretty difficult to start making tea with a shotgun in hand, so he figured that there really was no shotgun. Not that he was going to say anything. If they didn’t have a gun, that was fine with him. It was smart, actually, to pretend to have one.

  But it did give Rob an idea.

  “You want me to hand over my gun?” said Rob. “That way you know for sure there’s nothing to worry about.”

  Danny nodded stiffly at him. “That’d be fine,” he said. There was something in his voice that made Rob think that Danny had wished that he’d come up with that idea himself. But obviously Danny and Lonnie were just regular people, people who in their past life hadn’t had to deal with threats of violence or the threat of home intruders. They were making do the best they could now.

  They seemed like nice, ordinary people. Rob hoped they’d be able to hold out. But he didn’t think it was realistic. After all, the hordes would be coming, looking for the lowest-hanging fruit.

  Rob was acutely aware that he was in a hurry. In a way, he felt like when he’d visited some elderly relatives before the EMP. He’d always been a hurry to head off to the bar, or to meet up with some friends, feeling like he was trapped there in the stuffy rooms that were decorated in styles that dated back decades.

  But he also knew that he needed to gain more of Danny and Lonnie’s trust before they’d tell him what he needed to know.

  He tried to bottle the anxiety deep down, stuffing it away somewhere, knowing that he needed to be patient.

  “So, you’ve been doing OK since the EMP?” Rob ventured to say.

  “We’re fine here,” said Danny. “We’
ve got everything we need. But now don’t you get any ideas.” He took Rob’s gun, which he offered to him with the safety on, handle first, and placed it on a small table near him, muzzle pointing at the wall.

  “Like I said before,” said Rob. “I’m just looking for my friend. You see, we’re over by the lake.”

  “The lake? Which one? There are lakes all over the place.”

  “Uh...” said Rob, completely blanking on the name of the lake. He felt like he was back at one of those horrible job interviews where he couldn’t answer the easy questions about former employers and his checkered history of parole violations and DUIs.

  Fortunately, Danny just went on talking, not waiting for an answer. “We used to vacation by a lake up in Michigan every year. It got to be too much, you know how it is, I’d imagine. Getting all the gear ready, making sure the car’s in good working order. Not to mention getting the time off work. I used to work in the mill around here. Not that you’d know much about it. You never hear a word about it these days. Closed down a few years back. Worked my way up to foreman...”

  “There you go, going on and on, dear,” interrupted Lonnie, appearing in the room for the first time. She might have been several years younger than Danny. There was something about her face and hairstyle that reminded Rob of a great aunt of his that had died a few years back.

  She held a tray with three teacups on saucers neatly arranged on it. She served one to Rob who took the teacup carefully with both hands.

  Tentatively, he took a sip.

  “Wow,” he said. “That’s delicious. I can’t remember when the last time I had tea was...”

  “It’s imported,” said Lonnie, settling down on a nearby armchair and taking a sip of her own tea. “I got sick of the stuff in the supermarket.”

  “This is a lot better, that’s for sure,” grunted Danny.

  Rob didn’t mention the shotgun that Lonnie was supposed to be keeping trained on him.

  Danny was silent, apparently engrossed in his tea.

  The three of them sat there for a few minutes, taking sips of their tea in that post-EMP silence that seemed to ring out around them. It was a weird scene. Strange. Unusual. Unexpected.

  At least it wasn’t violent.

  Rob had already seen so much violence. Death. Injury. Cruelty.

  And he knew that he’d only encounter more of it as the days passed. He knew that there was no going back to the old world that, in retrospect, felt so safe and comforting.

  This quaint living room here would have seemed old-fashioned before the EMP. And in the days that would follow, in this new world, it would be beyond quaint. It would be like a museum that showcased the old, comfortable world. The hard reality of survival would dictate entirely new types of decoration. Teacups and saucers would be as out of place as they possibly could be.

  Rob figured it was as good a time as ever to bring up his question.

  “So,” he said, holding his teacup between his big hands. “The reason I came...”

  It was strange, having to remind them that he wasn’t some long-lost nephew who was merely paying them a visit.

  “What is it, dear?” said Lonnie.

  “Don’t we have any biscuits?” said Danny.

  “We’re out, remember?”

  “To hell with them anyway.”

  “Anyway,” said Rob. “My friend was... Um,” He didn’t know how to ask his question. He had the idea that it might not be a good idea to mention that his friend was kidnapped. Mentioning violence might shatter the little reality that Danny and Lonnie were clinging to. It might provoke some kind of extreme reaction, rendering them unable to answer his question.

  So he tried a different tack. “Would either of you happen to know if there are any motorcycle owners around these parts?”

  “Motorcycles?” said Lonnie, her voice creaking a little. She sounded sweet, like a doting grandmother, as she searched her memory. “Danny, wasn’t there that big parade a couple years back? There were all these men with their motorcycles. Those old-style bikes, I think.”

  “Out of towers,” barked Danny. “But what about the Johnson boy? He was always riding around on those things. Couldn’t get off one of them long enough to get himself a proper job.”

  “Oh yes, the Johnson boy. What a shame. He never did make much of his life.”

  As Lonnie and Danny recounted the Johnson boy’s various encounters with the law, Rob felt like he was listening to his own story. Sure, the Johnson boy sounded a little more extreme than himself. He’d been arrested plenty more times. Rob had always managed to skirt serious trouble. But who knew? If things had gone just a little bit differently with Rob, he could have easily found himself serving time in the state penitentiary.

  And then what would have happened to him now? Rob pondered that for a moment, as Lonnie and Danny continued. Would those prisoners be stuck in their cells, abandoned by the guards, left to starve to death? Surely not. Surely the majority of them were resourceful. And having spent years locked up, they would have learned all the tricks of the trade, so to speak. They’d know how the cells could be opened, if they just had enough time away from the scrutiny of the guards. It seemed like a sure thing that the majority of them would escape. Escape right into a half-destroyed, lawless world where power and violence were the only authority required.

  “Sam! That’s his name. Sam Johnson”

  “Right on the money, Lonnie.”

  “So this Sam Johnson, where does he live?” said Rob.

  They didn’t seem to want to know why he was interested. Maybe it was because he’d phrased his question innocently enough.

  “Oh, he lived with his dad pretty much all his life. Where was that house again?”

  “Up on Baker, I think.”

  “No, you know what, I know where it is. It was that ramshackle place, off of Route 22. The one with the long driveway.”

  “You know, you’re right. You couldn’t even see the house from the road. But I went there once. I forget what before. Maybe to drop off a bulletin from the city council or something.”

  “Route 22,” said Rob. “Is that the one off of...?”

  “You just head back about a mile and make a left. And that’s 22 for you.”

  Rob nodded his head and took another sip of tea.

  Inside, he was getting more anxious by the minute. Thoughts were rushing through his head about what could be happening to Jessica right at this moment. He imagined terrible things, and he tried to push them to the back of his mind.

  “His dad died a couple years back, and the house really went to seed after that. Sam never really could keep it together. Never mowed the lawn or anything.”

  “And those shutters? Did you see those? The paint was peeling off all over the place.”

  “You think he’d still be around there?” said Rob.

  “Are you looking for him or something?”

  It was the question he’d been waiting for. It couldn’t be avoided any longer.

  Rob just nodded.

  “Look, I don’t want to get involved in whatever it is you’re up to. Your business is your own business. Maybe it’s an old-fashioned attitude these days, but I’m old, so I’m allowed to think that way.”

  “Aw, you’re not that old, Danny.”

  Danny laughed hoarsely. “Like I said, I’m not going to get involved. But you seem like a nice kid, so I’ll give you a piece of advice.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Just watch out.”

  “Watch out?”

  “Keep your eyes peeled. Sam’s dangerous. Half the time he got locked up it was for getting into a fight. Sure, sometimes you’ve got to fight. But he’d fight when he didn’t need to.”

  Rob nodded. He already knew Sam was dangerous. And his friend. They’d kidnapped Jessica after all.

  “Well,” said Rob, thinking he’d gotten all the information he was going to get. “Thanks for the tea. I’d better get going.”

  It felt
sad, as if he was visiting his grandparents, and he knew it was going to be the last time that he ever saw them.

  They said their goodbyes, and Rob stepped back across the door’s threshold.

  The door closed behind him.

  And as soon as it did, he realized that he was once again in the post-EMP world. People could hide that fact from themselves, but the reality would always be there, waiting for them.

  His heart starting to pound in his chest.

  The anxiety that he’d pushed aside came rushing back up.

  Adrenaline was coursing through his veins.

  His thoughts turned completely away from the cute old couple and their tea saucers. And they turned to Jessica. And the fight that he knew he couldn’t avoid.

  As he got into the Subaru and cranked the engine, he had the sinking feeling that this might be a fight that he couldn’t win.

  He didn’t feel any relief at discovering where Jessica likely was. He didn’t feel relief in knowing that he knew how to get there, or knowing what he had to do.

  Instead, he felt dread. And he realized that he’d never really before felt true dread. It was a sinking feeling deep in his guts, as if a pit was opening up, a yawning chasm of darkness stretching out inside of him to nothing at all. A bottomless pit.

  It wasn’t obligation that was driving Rob to press on.

  It was something else.

  Duty.

  Responsibility.

  It was the responsibility that he’d always been chastised for lacking.

  It was rising up.

  And it was driving Rob to do the right thing.

  He put the Subaru into reverse, jammed the accelerator, and the wagon rocketed backwards down the driveway. He hit the road, spun the wheel vigorously, got it pointed in the direction of Route 22.

  And he was off. The wheels spun. The engine whined. The window was down and the air was in his hair. His gun, handed back to him by Danny, was once again within reach.

  18

  Jim

  Jim ducked behind the boat as shots sounded.

  The boat was metal. But thin metal. Jim didn’t know if the rounds would penetrate or not.