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

by Ryan Casey

  Logan glanced away, finger twitching on the trigger. He felt guilty about what he’d done to Wayne for Candice’s sake. He could see now how much damage it’d done. All the trust he’d gained. All the unity he’d built. All of that was gone. And there was no getting it back. “Maybe fighting is the only way.”

  “I don’t think you believe that,” Candice said.

  She walked towards Logan. He kept the rifle pointed at her.

  But she reached it and still he couldn’t bring himself to pull that trigger.

  “I’ve got to know you. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you’re not the monster people think you are. No matter what you did in the past. No matter how far you sank. You don’t have to be that person, Logan. You don’t have to sink any deeper.”

  He looked at Candice, right into her eyes. “Try telling that to Emma,” he said.

  Candice frowned. “Emma?”

  “She fell. She fell into the grass. Your guns for hire dealt with her.”

  Candice shook her head. “But—”

  “Face it. There’s no good side. There’s no right side. And if there is one, you certainly aren’t on it.”

  Candice took a breath. Behind her, he could hear the arguing between Hazel and Bella raging on.

  Then Candice stepped around Logan’s rifle and walked right towards him, right up close.

  “We wouldn’t shoot Emma,” she said.

  “But you did—”

  “No,” she said. “We wouldn’t do that, Logan. We just wouldn’t. No matter what you think of Jack, no matter how many mistakes he’s made, his heart is in the right place.”

  “And what about Jean?”

  “What happened to Jean was wrong,” Candice said. “But so too was what happened to Wayne. What happened to my… to the man I loved.”

  Logan looked away. He couldn’t look her in her eyes when she spoke about Wayne.

  “You shot him,” she said. “You killed him. You left Hazel and Jack without a son. You did that, Logan. You didn’t have to. You had an opportunity. A chance. And you chose this. Don’t forget it.”

  Logan felt guilt pour through his body. So many years battling with his own conscience, so many years telling himself that he wasn’t the monster people said he was. At times, he even believed it too.

  But he could only be judged by his actions.

  Intentions didn’t matter.

  His actions were those of a monster.

  He thought of Jean, of Emma.

  And then he stepped back and turned the rifle on Candice.

  “Jack,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Jack,” he said. “Where is he?”

  Candice shook her head. “I don’t know where—”

  “Well we find him,” he said. “One way or another, we find him. I don’t care how long it takes. We find him. All of us. And then we show him. Then we show him what happens.”

  Candice’s eyes glistened with building tears. “Don’t do this, Logan. You don’t have to be this person. Not now you’re…”

  She didn’t say it, but Logan knew what she was implying. She looked at his wound, her eyes wide. He was going to die. That’s what she was going to say. “Not now you’re dying.”

  The rifle shook wildly in his hands. He was so close to pulling the trigger. “What if I have to be that person?”

  Candice shook her head. Behind, Hazel and Bella looked on. Hazel was in hysterics. Bella was doing all she could to hold her together.

  “Don’t,” Candice said. “Don’t.”

  He felt something on his cheek.

  For a moment, he wasn’t sure what it was.

  Not until he realised his eyes were clouded.

  Tears.

  “If not for me,” Candice said, “for her.”

  “Don’t say her name.”

  “For Emm—”

  “Don’t say her name!”

  “But she’s right.”

  The second voice came from nowhere.

  Made the hairs on the back of Logan’s neck stand on end.

  He turned around.

  And then he saw her standing there on the outskirts of the woods.

  He blinked. Wiped his eyes. He had to be imagining things. This couldn’t be real.

  But the more he blinked, the more his eyes cleared, the more he couldn’t deny it.

  She was here.

  She was really here.

  “Emma?” he said.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Jack wasn’t sure how long he’d been searching when he finally found a trace of Hazel.

  It was getting late. It wouldn’t be long until the sun started setting. He wanted to find her before the sun set. He wanted to put this day behind him. He wanted the sun to rise tomorrow and to be able to start moving forward.

  To start grieving.

  He walked through the trees, through the long grass which rose above his knees. It reminded him of walks through the countryside with Hazel and Wayne when Wayne was just a boy. Hazel’s parents had lived in a country cottage in the middle of nowhere. One summer, the farmer’s field opposite hadn’t been cut in months. They’d gone in there with Wayne, watched as he disappeared under that mass of grass. Jack hid from him, jumped out and tickled him, pretending he was a velociraptor from Jurassic Park.

  He smiled at the memory. But there was pain there now, too. There was always pain associated with any memories of Wayne. There always had been, and now especially there would be.

  But he had to push past that.

  He’d have time to grieve.

  But right now he had to honour Wayne’s dying wish.

  He had to find Hazel. He had to find Candice and Bella.

  And together, they had to finish this.

  They had to move forward.

  Together.

  The trace of Hazel, though. A footprint. Villain sniffed at it, started panting.

  “You okay, lad?”

  He sniffed the air, whined a little, like he sensed something was nearby. Jack hoped it wasn’t danger he sensed.

  They kept on going, following these footsteps. Jack thought about Yuri’s people back at the farm. They might have that place for now, but it wasn’t going to be permanent. He was going to get it back. He was going to reclaim what was his. Because that was another promise he’d made—a promise to Stan, the farmer who used to run that place.

  That was another promise he was going to keep. It might take time, but he would honour it. In time.

  He walked further into the woods when he heard something.

  Somewhere in the distance, a shout echoed.

  He froze. He didn’t know what to make of it, or who it might be. It could be anyone. There were other survivors out there, after all.

  But there was that niggling sense that it could be Hazel, Candice, Bella.

  Or even Logan.

  His stomach turned when he thought of Logan. He shouldn’t have survived. He shouldn’t have been able to shoot Wayne.

  He wondered if he was still out here. Or if he’d died out here. Bella said he was shot. Yuri said he’d seen him fall.

  But what if?

  He’d put a bullet in his head when he found him regardless, dead or alive. Just to be sure.

  He rushed through the trees towards the shouts. He knew he should be careful, but his patience had run thin. There was no more time for waiting around.

  He raced through the trees, Villain by his side. Images flashed through his mind. The thought of Logan catching up with Hazel and the others. The image of getting there, finding them dead, Logan dead beside them. And Jack’s hopes of revenge dead forever.

  He ran further ahead when he heard more voices close by.

  He stopped. Crouched, worked his way between a few trees. He couldn’t place those voices. Couldn’t figure out how old they were, or even the gender they belonged to.

  He just worked his way slowly through the trees, edged closer towards them.

  He
kept on moving. Heart racing. Breathing laboured.

  And then he saw them.

  There was movement up ahead.

  He looked at Villain. “You stay here, boy. Don’t want you getting in any trouble.”

  Villain tilted his head, let out a little whine.

  Jack took a breath. Then, he stood up, walked towards the movement. Towards the voices.

  When he stepped around the trees, he froze.

  He couldn’t move a muscle.

  He couldn’t say a word.

  Hazel was here.

  Candice was here.

  Bella was here, Mrs Fuzzles in her arms.

  And Emma was here.

  But there was someone else, too.

  Someone pointing a rifle at them.

  Jack stepped out.

  They saw him right away.

  “Jack?” Hazel said.

  But Jack couldn’t focus on Hazel.

  He couldn’t focus on anyone or anything.

  The only person he could focus on was just as focused on him, now.

  It was Logan.

  He was alive.

  And he was here.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Ten minutes earlier…

  Logan turned around and saw Emma standing at the edge of the woods.

  “Emma?” he said.

  He thought it might be a trick of the light. He thought he might be going delirious with the gunshot wound.

  But no.

  There was no denying what he was seeing.

  Emma was here.

  She was alive.

  She was okay.

  He turned away from Candice, lowered his rifle and rushed over to her as quickly as his gunshot wound would allow.

  When he reached her, he wanted to hug her. He wanted to tell her how sorry he was for everything. He wanted to tell her she was going to be okay. He was going to look after her. He was going to protect her. No matter what.

  But he saw the look in her eyes.

  The way she looked at his chest.

  He looked down.

  Blood seeped through his shirt, completely drenching it.

  “You’re shot,” she said.

  He shook his head. “It’s okay. I… You’re going to be okay. I’m going to make sure of it—”

  “What happened?” Emma asked.

  He could see the fear in her eyes. See the way she was looking around at Candice, Hazel and Bella. And he could still hear Hazel crying.

  “Emma, I—”

  “What have you done?” she asked.

  And that was it. The way she looked at him had shifted. Even when he’d told her the truth about what he’d done to get himself arrested, she’d still had hope in her eyes. She’d still wanted to believe he could be a better person.

  But that was gone, now.

  All hope was gone.

  “Tell her,” Hazel spat. “Tell that girl what you did.”

  Logan looked at the ground. Then, he looked back up at Emma.

  Her big blue eyes looked back into his, begging him not to tell her he’d done something bad, begging him to tell her this was some kind of misunderstanding; some kind of mistake.

  But he couldn’t.

  “I shot him,” Logan said.

  Emma’s eyes narrowed. “What? Who—”

  “Wayne,” Logan said. “I… I shot Wayne. I thought they’d shot you. I thought they’d killed you. If I’d known the truth, I wouldn’t have done it. If I’d known you were okay, I wouldn’t have.”

  Emma stood there, staring at Logan. It looked like she was trying to get the measure of him, trying to weigh him up.

  She shook her head. “You had a chance to be better and you blew it.”

  “We… we can still—”

  “It’s over,” she said. “Your chance. It’s gone. It’s over.”

  Logan felt his world opening up. He’d escaped prison. He’d wanted to just get away; far away. Survive alone.

  And then he’d run into Emma and since that moment, everything had been for her.

  “I only wanted the best for—”

  “Don’t say you did it for me,” she said. “Don’t say you killed people for me. You did it for yourself. Because you couldn’t give up. You couldn’t trust. Because… because it’s who you are.”

  Logan shook his head. He knew she was right, but he didn’t want to accept his battle was lost. “That’s not true.”

  “You killed that family,” Emma said, tears flowing down her cheeks. “You tried to be better. You tried to change. But you failed.”

  “No,” Logan said. “I have changed—”

  “You haven’t,” Emma said. “And you won’t. Because it’s who you are. You’re Logan the Butcher. And nothing is ever going to…”

  She trailed off.

  Horror in her eyes.

  Logan didn’t realise why. Not right away.

  Not until he realised he had lifted the rifle.

  Pointed it at her.

  She looked from the rifle to his eyes.

  He lowered it. “Emma.”

  But it was already too late.

  She walked around him, past him, over towards Candice.

  Logan wanted to apologise to Emma. He wanted to tell her he shouldn’t have raised that rifle. That he wasn’t thinking straight. That he hadn’t meant it.

  But he didn’t know what was real or what was true anymore.

  “I don’t care what you think of me,” Logan said. “I tried to find you a home. I watched Jean fall. I retaliated. I fought. All… all I’ve ever done is try to do right by our people. By you.”

  “But you had a chance,” Candice said. “A chance to lower that rifle. A chance that Jack gave you. You chose not to take it. It was you who did this, Logan. You did all of this. We saw the warning signs. We knew what you were capable of. I’m just sorry I didn’t see them sooner.”

  He looked at this group of people and he saw the way they stared at him. Their second chances had gone. They saw him as Logan the Butcher now.

  And nothing was going to change that.

  He thought about what else there was for him now he’d lost these people. Now he’d lost Emma. He thought about the world out there. The journey he’d intended going on all along.

  And then he thought of the gunshot wound, and he knew his days were numbered.

  He had tried.

  And he had failed.

  This was who he was now.

  And he’d done this himself.

  “I hope you find your way, Logan,” Emma said. “I hope you…”

  Her speech trailed off.

  Logan wasn’t sure if she stopped speaking or if he just lost focus on it.

  Because he saw something.

  Or rather, someone.

  He was walking through the woods, emerging from the trees.

  Looking right at Logan.

  Logan lifted his rifle. Pointed it.

  Because there was only one thing he wanted now.

  There was only one thing he cared about.

  “Hello, Jack,” Logan said. “Fancy seeing you here.”

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Jack saw Logan up ahead and hate filled his body.

  The late afternoon sun peeked over the trees. An orange glow illuminated the clear area of woodlands they were in. There was a sense of finality to this occasion. An ominous feeling that something was going to happen. Something that was going to end this conflict, once and for all.

  The only problem?

  Jack didn’t know what that might be.

  Everyone was here. Hazel. Candice. Bella. Emma. Villain. Mrs Fuzzles.

  And Logan.

  Logan was the one holding a rifle.

  He was pointing it towards Jack, and towards his people.

  And when Jack got closer, a smile spread across Logan’s face.

  “We’ve been waiting for you,” Logan said. “Haven’t we, ladies?”

  Jack wanted to go over there and beat Logan to a pulp. He
wanted to throw all logic to one side and punish him for what he’d done. For what he’d taken from him. For what he’d taken from Hazel.

  But as he stood there, heart racing, fists clenched, he knew this battle wasn’t going to be won through thoughtlessness.

  They were at a turning point. A fork in the road.

  And Jack knew damn well he had to change if he wanted to stand a chance of coming out alive.

  If he wanted his people to stand a chance of coming out alive.

  “Lower your gun,” Jack said.

  Logan frowned. “Lower my gun? That’s all you have to say right now?”

  “There’s no need for this to go on,” Jack said. “There’s—there’s nothing left to fight for. Yuri’s people took the farm. We’re homeless, both of us. There’s nothing to be gained from further conflict. Not anymore.”

  Logan paused for a few seconds. Then he lowered his rifle and started laughing.

  “You think there’s nothing to be gained?” he said. “You shot one of my people. You left me… you left me on my own. You took everything away from me.”

  “No,” Jack said. “I didn’t do that. You did that.”

  “See, that’s what people keep saying,” Logan said. “But you were the one who pulled the trigger. I was the one who was willing to compromise. To put everything to one side. But you were the one who pulled the trigger.”

  Jack opened his mouth. He went to argue.

  And then he looked at Hazel and he sighed. “You’re right,” Jack said. “I pulled that trigger. I did this. I caused this mess. None of this would’ve happened if it wasn’t for me. But… but Logan, I lost a son today. You took my son from me. From Hazel. Nobody else has to die.”

  Logan’s eyes were bloodshot and distant. “Don’t give me the bullshit about building bridges and moving forward. Don’t even start. I saw how that worked out last time.”

  “You raised your rifle,” Jack said. “I… I had to give the order to shoot or—”