Survival Rules Series (Book 1): Rules of Survival

by Hunt, Jack

  At first Nate ignored him but then guilt took over.

  He glanced at the young boy. Questions flooded his mind. If he gave him the water there would be less for him and right now, he had a better chance of survival.

  Again, he turned his face away, hoping the boy would stop.

  In his mind he kept saying shut up, shut up. But the injured boy never did.

  Call it an act of mercy or simply a desire to have him stop speaking but Nate slid up beside him and unscrewed the lid, brought the bottle up to the kid’s mouth and poured in some of the water. He swallowed hard, stared at him and thanked him.

  “Yeah. No problem. It’s going to be okay, kid.” He felt a twinge in his gut. Guilt was eating away at him. He knew it wasn’t going to end well. The boy would be dead before the hour was over. “Who are you?” he asked.

  The boy replied, “Samuel Richards.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Eleven.”

  Nate clenched his jaw. Why? Why did bad shit have to happen to kids?

  “Well Samuel, my name’s Nate.”

  He felt Samuel touch his hand and he realized he wanted to hold it and feel some sense of comfort in his final moments. Although uncomfortable, Nate wrapped his hand over his and squeezed tightly. “It’s all right, kid. I’m here.” He wanted to ask him about his parents, his life in the city but instead he sat there clutching his hand until Samuel breathed his last. When he knew he was gone, Nate felt a sense of despair.

  The smell of smoke was getting stronger. If he didn’t die from starvation or thirst, he was liable to die of smoke inhalation. Choking to death. The thought scared him.

  “Please. Help! Anyone out there? Dear God. Help me!” he bellowed as loud as he could, over and over again for what felt like five minutes but was probably only thirty seconds. Exhausted and frustrated he stopped and began to accept his fate.

  He wasn’t getting out of here.

  Who was he fooling?

  He took out his gun again and brought it up to his temple. Squeeze it. It will only take a second. It will be all over. No one will miss you. He could see his mother again. That was the only person that ever meant anything to him. He had no siblings, no girlfriend, no real friends.

  Nate closed his eyes and prepared to squeeze.

  As the fleshy part of his finger touched the trigger his body tensed up.

  Hand shaking, he was just about to release the round when he heard her.

  “Anyone down there?”

  For a second he thought he was imagining it but then her voice echoed in the dusty chamber. “Hello. Can you hear me?”

  “I’m here. I’m here!” Nate bellowed. “Where are you?”

  “Follow the sound of my voice,” the woman said.

  He scrambled through the dirt and darkness like a man lost in the desert, thirsting for water. “Keep speaking to me.”

  “Over here. We’re here.”

  It didn’t take him long to make his way there. When he did, he looked up through a crack in the concrete and saw her fingers. Nate reached up and touched them, a renewed sense of hope followed. “Give us a moment. We’ll get you out.”

  “Okay. Just don’t go away.”

  “We’re not leaving you,” said a male voice behind her. He could hear the sound of rubble being moved. Small and large boulders being pushed, and pulled and lifted. They had their work cut out for them. Nate looked back into the darkness and thought of Samuel. Had God heard his prayer? Was this Samuel’s way of repaying his kindness?

  “What’s your name?” the female asked still touching his fingers. He’d never felt such a sense of peace and overwhelming gratitude for human life. To be alone in death was awful, but in life, that was a tragedy.

  “Nate. Yours?”

  “Erika, and this is Tyler.”

  9

  Not long after they pulled Nate from the rubble, an emergency crew of six arrived on scene without vehicles. A collection of police officers and rescue volunteers dressed in orange vests began the arduous task of combing through the aftermath searching for survivors. The welcome sight of uniformed officers handing out bottles of water, must have given Erika enough reason to feel the situation was being handled as she began talking about heading back to the hotel. Tyler didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth. When he was a kid, his father had run him and his brother through various scenarios — EMP, virus, economic collapse, natural disasters and many others. While other kids grew up watching MTV, listening to rock and rap music, they viewed prepper videos and recited the three rules of survival. While other kids wrote assigned essays on the great American novel, they digested FEMA, government and town emergency plans, searching for weaknesses, discussing alternatives and preparing for every outcome. He would test them on the four phases of emergency management, the six critical areas of emergency response, what to do in a disaster, what to carry on them at all times, where to go, who to contact, when to use a bunker, how to fire weapons, the keys to living off the land, and so much that Tyler could practically quote verbatim large sections of text from government emergency response plans, and identify and name wild plants that could be used for food and those that were a danger. Andy Ford believed that knowing a few things was not enough. It was never enough for him. It needed to become second nature, instinct, so when the shit hit the fan they weren’t just physically, but mentally and emotionally ready.

  A show of strength by the government was always the way. It wouldn’t last.

  But there was no way to convince anyone of that. The gullible, the untrained, the unprepared and the reckless believed the nation or world around them would come to their aid. Presidents, prime ministers and the powers that be would ensure their survival. Sure, they would suffer for a day or two, a week even, or at worst a month but total collapse? It was unheard of, rarely talked about and certainly not the kind of conversation heard in homes of America. No, the government would send out the National Guard, police would patrol the streets, curfews would be put in effect, martial law would be declared, guns confiscated, looting banned, generators freely handed out and food and water would continue to flow abundantly to those in need. But Tyler knew different. That was nothing but a pipe dream. Oh, there would be an initial push, an initial show of strength. It was humanity’s way. Its first reaction was to respond, revive and rebuild. It was what anyone would do. It was why Erika reacted. And, often that was all it took to turn the tide on a small-scale disaster — people rallying together, emergency response crews working around the clock, Red Cross out in full force, and emergency funds set up to raise money. So, no, the government wouldn’t sit by idly and just allow chaos to rule, and society wouldn’t immediately start attacking each other, but given enough time, given enough pressure, and given the right circumstances, people would eventually revert to their natural instinct to survive. How and when that would happen would vary depending on where the disaster occurred, his father would say. The lawless had no gatekeeper, they were opportunists. That’s why looting in riots usually began within the first twenty-four hours if opportunity presented itself. The L.A. riots stemming from the beating of Rodney King were a prime example of that. And that wasn’t even a natural disaster, just a tragedy. The fact was even those who would have never dreamed of stealing might run into a building and snatch a case of water if they saw enough people doing it, and they knew they could get away with it.

  Tyler glanced at his watch. Seconds, minutes, hours meant more to him than others. They weren’t just the signposts for the passing of time. They were a countdown, red flags and sirens. He’d been keeping an eye on the time ever since the lights went out. Every minute that passed without heading for safety reduced the likelihood of surviving.

  “What happened to helping those who can’t help themselves?” Tyler asked curiously. He was keen to see what caused the change of heart.

  “Bailey,” Erika replied, carefully stepping down and hopping over large chunks of wall.

  Tyler frowned
. “Who?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I need to get back to the hotel.”

  “I’ll walk you.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Look, I said I would get you there and I meant it.”

  “That was before this. Let’s just call it a night. I appreciate your kindness, Tyler, but I think I can find my way from here,” Erika said.

  Nate coughed and squinted at them. “You two an item?”

  Both of them replied in unison. “No.”

  Nate was seated on a collapsed concrete wall. “Hey, you think I can tag along with you?” Nate asked Erika. “I need to contact a friend and it seems cell phones aren’t working. Maybe a landline will.”

  “I doubt it,” she replied.

  “No, he’s right. There is a good chance they will,” Tyler said. “Cells, that’s another thing entirely. Not all cell towers have generators but the ones that do are weak at best. They might last anywhere from four to six hours but they can’t handle a mass of people calling all at once and in an event like this…” He didn’t need to fill in the blank.

  “Bullshit,” Erika said. “Generators last longer than that.”

  “Permanent ones. Yeah. You might get an extra day or two but you think they have the kind of money to install those in every cell tower? Think again. Besides, it happened in Hurricane Katrina. Look it up when the net comes back up, which will likely be never,” he said getting down off the rubble and wiping his hands clean on his pants. She eyed him with a look of concern. Tyler scooped up his backpack and put it on then rolled his shoulder, feeling a twinge in his muscle. “Anyway, you will find that landlines as long as they aren’t wireless tend to work in a power outage. It’s because the power sent to the phones comes from the power companies and they will often have battery backup and other forms of generators to keep operations ticking over for at least a week during a power outage.”

  “Then how come the power didn’t come back on for four days when we had a power outage a couple of years back?” Erika asked.

  He smiled. “I said they would have power, I didn’t say you would. Besides, I don’t know what the situation was. Maybe it was a downed power line. Power without a way to get it to you — ah, I’m guessing it could be a problem,” he replied and she must have read into it as sarcasm because as he headed away from the site she followed eager to ask more questions, no doubt about why he was going her way.

  Nate wasn’t far behind. “So, is that a yes?”

  Neither one replied, there was too much happening around them. Along with the brave few who chose to help, many residents and tourists took to the streets, some trying to leave the city, others to return home or to hotels, probably assuming that was the safe thing to do. It wasn’t like all of New York left the city when the twin towers came down but you could be damn sure no one stayed in the neighborhood unless they had a good reason. With Vegas drawing in upwards of forty million people a year to its attractions, there were many options for tourists, and by the looks of the downed planes, travel by air was cancelled. That meant overly crowded streets even if the vast majority were sightseeing outside the city limits, or holed up inside hotels.

  Another explosion erupted farther away but it was powerful enough to rock the ground. Shock and bewilderment masked faces as they passed people in a hurry to get to safety. But was anywhere safe?

  “Hey, you know what caused this?” Nate asked.

  “EMP, I think. It has all the hallmarks of one but in this day and age there is no telling what or who could be behind something like this,” Tyler replied.

  “You think it’s terrorists? I mean with that plane, and all,” Nate said thumbing over his shoulder.

  “Look, I don’t mean to be rude but don’t you have a place to go to?” Tyler asked.

  “He could say the same about you,” Erika said casting him a glance.

  He refused to bite for a second or two but then felt the need to respond. “I told you I would get you home.”

  “Yeah, and that involved not walking but I’m back to doing that, so…”

  Nate asked, “How do you two know each other?”

  Tyler glanced at him. “We went out on a date.”

  “A bad one,” Erika was quick to clarify.

  “Ah, and there was me thinking you were engaged.”

  Erika blew out her cheeks. “To him?”

  “To her?” Tyler mirrored what she said just so she could feel how rude it sounded.

  Nate rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, you two have got issues to work through.”

  “What about you?” Tyler asked. “Was that your apartment?”

  Nate hesitated before he responded and then replied, “Yeah. Actually, that’s where I lived. I don’t have a place to stay now, and that’s why I was hoping to use the phone at your hotel. See if I can get hold of my…” he coughed, “mother.”

  “Oh, your mother lives nearby?” Erika asked.

  “Yeah, um, not far from here,” he said.

  Erika glanced at him and squinted. “Why do you look familiar?”

  “Well I’m from around here. Maybe you’ve seen me,” he said clearing his throat.

  She looked him up and down but before she could say any more, he changed the topic. “So what hotel are you staying at?”

  “You mean which hotel does she own?” Tyler added.

  “I don’t own the hotel. I run it.”

  “What?” Nate asked.

  Tyler decided to fill in the blanks. “Lyons. Her parents own the franchise.”

  Nate put a fist up to his mouth and smiled. “Wow. You must be loaded.”

  “That’s what everyone assumes.”

  “C’mon, are you telling me daddy didn’t set up some nice trust fund that you got when you hit eighteen?” Nate asked. She didn’t respond to that but quickened her pace as if to make it clear that she was against them going with her.

  Tyler nudged him. “Ah don’t mind her, she has trouble with anyone calling her out on the truth.”

  “You know I can hear you,” she replied, looking over her shoulder. He smirked and reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone to check one last time, just to be sure it wasn’t some fluke event. He didn’t want to believe it was an EMP. He’d spent the last nine years trying to distance himself from that world of doom and gloom. It wasn’t that he had turned off his mind to it all, if he did, he wouldn’t have carried around the backpack with him.

  Tyler caught up with her. “Listen, this friend of yours. Bryan or…”

  “Bailey,” Erika said correcting Tyler.

  “Right. Bailey. What is she, your sister?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “A cousin then, or a co-worker?”

  He heard her sigh as they got closer to the building. Erika sped up. “Thank God. I don’t know what I would have done if…”

  “Your inheritance was in ashes,” Tyler said sarcastically.

  “No, asshole, if my dog was hurt,” she said looking back at him with a glare.

  Tyler stopped walking. “Hold on a minute. Bailey is a dog? We’re going back for your dog?”

  10

  The third cabin wasn’t empty. A couple in their late sixties were enjoying a quiet evening meal by candlelight when the home invasion occurred. Despite his age, and being outnumbered, Gabriel had to admit the old-timer had balls. He’d made a move for his shotgun only to get slapped down by Torres. With his head now bleeding, his wife crouched over him, crying. “Shut up, or you’ll be next,” Torres bellowed.

  “Steady, Torres,” Gabriel said before gesturing to the others to help themselves. They spent the next twenty minutes drying off, eating the remainder of the couple’s supper and rooting through the cabin for items that could be of use. There weren’t enough clothes for all of them as they learned the place wasn’t the couple’s permanent residence, just a summer retreat. Gabriel sat at the table mopping up the last remnants of soup from a bowl with a chunk of bread. He studied the old-timer across
the room. “You got a vehicle?”

  He didn’t reply so Torres pulled his hand back as if to gesture he’d better answer.

  “Not one that’s working,” he said, his eyes washing over their group.

  “You lying to me, old man?”

  “The keys are on the hook. Check it yourself. Do you think we would be here if it did?” Gabriel glanced at his brother who was standing beside the log fire stoking it with the metal poker. “Bill, you want try it?”

  “Do I look like your whipping boy?” he said smoking a cigarette in a recliner chair. Gabriel smiled. Bill listened to no one except the correctional officers and even they gave him a wide berth at times.

  “I’ll see,” Lee said.

  “No. You stay where you are,” Jericho said. “We’re keeping a short leash on you.”

  “I’ll do it myself.” Gabriel got up and scooped up the keys and headed out to a carport around the side of the cabin. Inside was a large silver 4 x 4 Ford truck. He hopped inside and tried firing it up. It didn’t respond. Weird. He tried again without success. The damn thing looked brand-new. He popped the hood and took a look to see if there was an issue with the engine. Nothing. It was as clean as a whistle. Slamming the hood down he headed back in and tossed the keys on the counter.

  “What year is that?”

  “2018.”

  “Why isn’t it working?”

  “Couldn’t tell you. When the lights went out, we gathered our things together planning on heading back to Whitefish but it wouldn’t start. It’s not the only thing that isn’t working. Cell phones aren’t either. Internet is down as well.”

  Bill picked up the guy’s cell to check. “He’s telling the truth,” he said before tossing the phone to Gabriel to see for himself. Gabriel stood there trying to piece together what was happening. He figured the plane going down was pilot error or engine trouble, but no cells, vehicles or internet?

  “Any ideas?” Gabriel asked the others.