The Last Fight: A Post Apocalyptic EMP Thriller (Surviving the EMP Book 3)

by Ryan Casey

  Jack gathered the supplies. The bedding. The clothes. The lighters and the tooth floss, which could be used for tying things, not just flossing. “You got any other ideas?”

  “Not stealing from the people who stole our cows and left a dead body on the edge of our farm, perhaps?”

  Jack picked more of the supplies up, gathered them in a rucksack he always carried over his shoulder in case of discoveries like this. “Don’t be daft. Take it as a settlement for them stealing from us.”

  He stuffed more into the bags. And then he stood there, this little camp left bare of anything useful.

  He looked around and he smiled.

  Bella shook her head. “You’re made for this world.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It wasn’t a compliment.”

  They headed back towards the farm. The closer they got, the more Jack caught a scent of something. Burning, somewhere in the distance.

  He didn’t think much of it. Not at first.

  But the closer they got back to the farm, the stronger that burning smell got.

  And the more cautious he began to grow.

  He reached the middle of the woods, Villain nipping at the heels of the cows to keep moving, and he heard something.

  Something that sent shivers up his arms.

  Jack heard a shout.

  And it came from the direction of the farm.

  Chapter Nine

  Jack heard the shout and he froze.

  He stood there in the middle of the woods. He couldn’t see the farm yet, but he knew where that shout came from. He couldn’t figure out who it was—male or female—but he didn’t need to.

  The shout came from the direction of the farm.

  And that filled him with fear.

  He looked around at Bella, Villain by her side, almost seeking some kind of solace in her eyes; some kind of reassurance that he was exaggerating in his response, or even imagining things to some degree. That shout could be from anywhere. It didn’t have to be from the farm just because it seemed like it’d come from that direction. There were other people out there. They saw them most days. It could be anyone.

  Right?

  But she looked back at him with fear in her wide eyes, too.

  And that told Jack everything he needed to know.

  He felt caught in two minds as he stood there sweating. On the one hand, he knew he needed to get back to the farm immediately. He’d seen how quickly everything stable could fall apart in this world.

  But a smaller, quieter voice in the back of his mind was whispering at him to be careful. To watch himself.

  Because he had to be cautious if he was planning on running right into the jaws of danger.

  He looked at Bella and before she had a chance to get a word in, he ran.

  He raced his way through the trees. He gripped his rifle tightly in hand. He carried it with him whenever he went out, not just for the off chance he got an opportunity to hunt, but to defend this place from any form of threat.

  And after that shout, he felt more certain that he was approaching a threat.

  He would defend his livelihood and those he cared about at all costs.

  He kept on racing through the trees. But something hit him as he got closer. He hadn’t heard any more shouts. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

  But there was something else.

  The burning smell.

  There was something ominous about it. It reminded him of what had happened to his home in the woods.

  What had happened to Bill.

  He remembered standing there, holding that rifle, bracing himself to do something awful—put a man out of his misery. A good man. An innocent man.

  He pictured Hazel being the one he had to take out. Or Wayne.

  The thought made him nauseous.

  He rushed further through the trees, losing all track of time altogether, when he saw it.

  The farm was intact. It wasn’t burning. It wasn’t engulfed in flames as he’d imagined. It was just… there.

  He squinted. Looked around for Wayne or Hazel. Villain appeared at his side. Bella was with him.

  They all stood there together. Silent. Watching. Villain panted, whimpering a little, like he sensed something was wrong.

  “What is it, boy?” Jack muttered. “What is…”

  Then he saw it.

  The smoke was in the distance. It wasn’t coming from the farm, but from further ahead. Over the long grass of the fields, specks of ash climbed upwards like black snow in reverse.

  But it wasn’t the farm on fire.

  That was the relief.

  But then the shout…

  Jack walked down the hill and towards the farm. That shout was too close to be from where the flames were. It had to be from the farm.

  And the fact he hadn’t seen Wayne or Hazel yet worried him.

  “Jack?”

  Jack turned around.

  Bella stared at him, fear in her eyes.

  “We need to be careful,” she said.

  Jack swallowed a lump in his throat. “We need to go home—”

  “But we need to be careful,” Bella said. “Everyone… everyone is someone else’s villain. Remember that.”

  Jack didn’t hear what she was saying at first. He thought she meant his dog. And then when he realised she didn’t, it still didn’t totally resonate with him. He didn’t have time to think.

  He ran further. All three of them ran further. The cows were in the woods again, too slow to keep up. He’d go back for them, retrieve them, in time. That was the least of his concerns right now.

  He got closer to the farm. When he turned around again, over towards the right, he saw something.

  There was a group of people.

  They were walking towards his home from the direction of that fire.

  “Jack?” Bella said.

  The hairs on the back of Jack’s neck stood on end. He lifted his rifle instinctively. He’d seen the smoke. And he’d seen the body in the woods. He knew what this was. It was some kind of distraction. Some kind of attempt to drag people apart in order to launch an attack on the farm.

  It wasn’t happening.

  He held his rifle and pointed it at the group. He saw a tall, dark-haired man. Two women close behind, and a little girl.

  But it was the man’s hand he couldn’t stop looking at.

  It looked like he was carrying something.

  A weapon.

  Too far to tell for certain, but he couldn’t take any chances.

  Footsteps raced down the steps of the farm. Wayne and Hazel rushed out. “Jack?” Hazel said.

  A momentary relief that they were okay, but only just breaking his focus. “Stay back.”

  “But we don’t know they—”

  “Was it you?” Jack said.

  Hazel frowned. “What?”

  “The shout? Was it—”

  “No,” Wayne said. “We heard it too. Wasn’t us. Don’t know who it was. Don’t know where it came from.”

  The hairs on Jack’s arms stood on end. It had to be them. Some kind of trap.

  “Stay back,” Jack said, not only to his family, but to these people too. Hoping they heard him. Praying they were listening.

  He saw the man look him right in the eyes from this distance and he felt something. He couldn’t explain it, but even though he hadn’t even met this man yet, he could sense his defiance. He could sense there was something about him. Something threatening. Trouble.

  Smoke rose from the flames behind him.

  The body in the woods.

  The stolen cows.

  It had to be this group.

  It had to—

  Jack felt a hand on his arm. He looked and saw Bella by his side.

  “Jack, be careful. Remember what I said. Remember…”

  Then it all happened in a blur.

  The smell of the burning intensified.

  The man in the distance started to reach up, towards his pocket.
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  All of it came together. All of it echoed and spun around his mind.

  He couldn’t let them come closer.

  He couldn’t let them take his home.

  He couldn’t let them harm his family.

  He held that rifle in this shaky hand as the group got closer.

  He aimed right at that man.

  Watched as he went to raise a hand.

  Saw his home burning in his memory.

  Saw what happened when he trusted people too much in the past; when he let them too close.

  Saw all his worst nightmares unfolding, all over again.

  “Jack,” Hazel said.

  “Candice?” Wayne said. “Is—is that…”

  But he didn’t hear Hazel.

  He didn’t hear Wayne.

  He didn’t hear anyone.

  Not anymore.

  He took a deep breath.

  Steadied his focus.

  And then he pulled the trigger.

  Chapter Ten

  Logan approached the farm, but he had a bad feeling about all of this.

  First, there were the flames behind them. The smoke rising into the air. He didn’t know where they’d come from. Something made him wonder whether the group at the farm were responsible somehow; whether they’d caused this.

  His levels of mistrust had reached a new high.

  And then there was the shout. The shout that’d come from somewhere nearby.

  He didn’t know what it was, or who it was. Just that there were people who couldn’t be trusted out there. Movement in the night. Whenever you thought you were alone, there was always someone there, always someone watching.

  But here he was. Doing the exact thing he didn’t want to do.

  Walking towards this farm.

  Emma, Candice and Jean right behind him.

  He wanted to go alone. He wanted to scout this place out better than they had already. Sure, he had an idea about the people here. He had a sense of how many there were, of who they were. But people were still untrustworthy. People were still unpredictable.

  And he didn’t like this one bit.

  He walked further across the field, towards this farm. He thought about the guy with the rifle he’d seen and he knew he was going to be difficult to deal with. But the guy hadn’t seen him yet. He didn’t know where he was.

  But he had to be prepared for anything.

  He held his knife tightly in his hand, just in case, and he heard it.

  First, another cry, somewhere over their shoulders.

  Then he saw the woman and the lad come to the window, look outside.

  Logan froze. He saw them looking over in their direction. But as they waded through this grass, he knew how this looked. He knew the uncertainty this would add to the whole situation.

  He didn’t like it at all.

  “We can turn back,” Jean said.

  Logan turned to her. “What?”

  “If… if now’s not the right time. We can try again. Some other time. We can turn back.”

  Logan felt torn. He wanted to go alone. He didn’t want to put his people at risk.

  But now the moment was here, he knew they had to seize it. He knew they had to keep on moving.

  “We keep going,” Logan said. “We’re almost there. We’re almost…”

  He saw them, then.

  The man with the dog.

  The woman by his side.

  He saw the way they raced over towards the farm.

  And more than anything, he saw the way that man looked at him.

  Even from this distance, he could see it.

  Fear.

  Something took over Logan, then. A defensiveness that he knew fear brought.

  He looked into this man’s eyes and he knew he was the same, in a way.

  He knew he felt the same way as him.

  And that was dangerous.

  “We need to… to be careful,” Logan said.

  “Just wave the white flag,” Jean said.

  “I don’t have a white flag—”

  “Just raise your hands. Show them we aren’t a threat. Show them we want to talk. What’s the worst that can happen if you raise your damned hands, man?”

  He looked at Jean and part of him wanted to agree with her. Part of him wanted to respect her wishes.

  But then there was that defensiveness, still there, still strong, still deep-rooted.

  “Logan?” Candice said.

  Logan looked at Candice. And then at Emma. He looked at them both as they stood there in this quiet, tense open. A moment that felt like it could fall apart in an instant.

  He looked back around and saw the man’s rifle was already raised.

  “Just trust him,” Jean said. “Just—just trust he won’t shoot first. Logan? Just trust he won’t shoot first.”

  He looked at Jean.

  Then at Emma.

  He saw that look in her eyes.

  The look of a girl who wanted to believe in him again.

  And then he turned around and saw how that man had his rifle raised, and he reached his hand up.

  He didn’t even register what had happened until it actually happened.

  First, a crack.

  Then a puff of smoke.

  And then a thud right by his side, and a gasp.

  He turned around and he saw her.

  Jean was on the ground.

  She was clutching her chest.

  Eyes wide.

  Blood spurting from her lips.

  Gasping for air.

  The hairs on Logan’s arms and neck stood on end. He rushed over to her, right to her side. He could hear Candice shouting things, saw her grabbing Emma, pointing back in the direction they’d come from.

  He could see it all unfolding, all going down.

  And all he could do was crouch there on the ground by Jean’s side as she struggled for life.

  “It’s okay,” he said, but he didn’t even believe his own words. “It’s going to be okay.”

  He saw the blood pooling out of her chest and he knew he needed to act fast.

  He lifted Jean up and turned around. He looked back at that farm, at that man, standing there, rifle still raised.

  He looked into his eyes. Saw the way he stared back at him. And he felt hate building. Growing. Anger bubbling through his body.

  He wanted to stand his ground. He wanted to fight. But he knew now wasn’t the time.

  He held Jean closer and raced as quickly as he could away from this farm.

  He raced through the field, towards the trees. He heard Jean gasping, spluttering. Felt the warmth of her blood dripping between his fingers. He followed Emma and Candice and he couldn’t help thinking of the words she’d said. How they should’ve fallen back. How they should’ve retreated.

  “Stay with me,” he said. “Please, Jean. Just stay with me.”

  He ran further through the field, knees weak, entire body shaking. He looked back, over at that farm, over towards that man, the echo of the gunfire still rattling in his skull.

  He heard a wheeze and looked around.

  Jean was struggling. More blood out the corners of her mouth. Eyes drifting.

  He put her down. Wiped her forehead. “Jean? You’re okay. Hang in there. Please. Just hang in there.”

  She looked into his eyes through drooping eyelids, Candice and Emma standing there close by, staring on.

  “Just—just stay with us. Please.”

  He felt the emotion cracking through.

  Emotion he didn’t even know he had locked inside.

  He felt it all building up and he felt his eyes welling up.

  She looked at him through glazed eyes, and then she cracked a bloodied smile.

  “You—you know what to do,” she spluttered. “You know what to… to…”

  She didn’t say another word.

  Her mouth went still.

  Her struggling stopped.

  Her eyes faded.

  Jean was gone.


  Chapter Eleven

  The evening arrived fast, but Jack knew he wouldn’t be getting any sleep.

  It was growing dark. It was a warm, still night, the air thick with humidity. He was sweaty. He wanted nothing more than to douse himself in a hot shower right now, to disappear under the falling water. To be alone with his thoughts.

  Because he couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened.

  He couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d done.

  He sat in the lounge. Wayne, Hazel and Bella were all sitting opposite him. Villain and Mrs Fuzzles were at the other side of the room too. Every time Villain showed an interest in her, Mrs Fuzzles’ claws tightened, and she raised a paw, subduing Villain in an instant.

  Jack felt like he would be in much the same position if he tried to defend today’s actions.

  “I saw her,” Wayne said.

  Jack frowned. “Wayne, you need to let it go—”

  “I saw Candice,” Wayne said. His son was wide-eyed, entranced. He seemed a different lad to the one he’d tried getting to know these last few weeks. Ever since they’d had their stand-off with those people, Wayne seemed troubled and lost.

  All because he swore he’d seen his girlfriend Candice with that group.

  “We’ve talked about this,” Jack said. “She was too far away.”

  “I know what she looks like.”

  “You don’t—”

  “I know who I saw!” Wayne said.

  He was standing now. Anger and pain in his eyes. Sweat on his forehead.

  “You couldn’t just let them get a little closer, could you?” Wayne asked.

  Jack shook his head. “He was reaching for his pocket. For a weapon.”

  “And you could tell that, could you?”

  “Yes—”

  “You could tell that, but I couldn’t tell the girl I loved was with them?”

  “Just cut it out, okay?”

  “No,” Wayne shouted. “Who the hell are you to tell me to cut it out?”

  “I’m your dad.”

  “You’re not my frigging dad.”

  Jack felt the words hit him sharply.

  “You made your choice to walk away,” Wayne said. “You made your choice to leave. You gave up on me and you gave up on being my dad that day. You had chances. Chances to be different. Chances to come back. Chances to say sorry. But you just couldn’t, could you?”