FORTRESS: A Post Apocalyptic-Dystopian EMP Attack Thriller (Reckoning Book 3)

by Lee West

  “I thought I’d check in with you to see how things are going.”

  “Everything is fine. I think at this point I could go back in time and get a job as an Egyptian high priest. I’m actually getting good at the entire process.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. The smell has really decreased. That’s something everyone is grateful for.”

  “It won’t be long before the smell will be gone entirely. I just have one more cadaver to dismantle.”

  His use of the word dismantle in reference to a human body made Ed’s stomach lurch.

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to gross you out,” said Sal with a slight laugh.

  “No worries at all. It’s part of the territory. I’m just glad you met me out here in the hallway. I really dreaded going into the operating room.”

  “Yes. You’re right about that. You wouldn’t want to be in there. Believe me. It’s not a scene for the uninitiated.”

  “Are you happy with the results?” asked Ed.

  Ed assumed mummification would preserve the human remains for the families who would be back for their loved ones. He just did not know what level of preservation they could achieve.

  “I’m very happy with the results. I think the families will be as well. I can show you if you want?”

  Ed hesitated, not wanting to be rude; then he finally said, “No. Your assurances are enough for me. So long as you think the families will be pleased and the smell is gone, I’m a happy camper.”

  “They’ll be pleased. I’m sure of it.”

  “Thanks very much for taking on the project. I know it’s not exactly in your line of work, but we really needed this to be done.”

  “Actually, I’m happy to have a project. Wish I had a few more bodies to work on. It’s been keeping me occupied and out of trouble,” said Sal with a wink.

  “I doubt we’ll have any volunteers, but I’ll keep an eye out for you,” said Ed, laughing.

  Ed ran down the flights of stairs with a bounce in his step. Sal seemed to be doing an excellent job of preserving the bodies. However, the lightness of his mood came from seeing Sal so happy. Although Ed had not known Sal prior to the emergency, it seemed as the days progressed, the man had become more and more depressed. On more than one occasion, Ed had seriously worried for him because his mood seemed so dark. Now the doctor beamed with purpose. Nothing gave Ed more satisfaction than seeing another person happy.

  — 13 —

  Nancy and Brett reclined on the grass in the center of campus. Ed allowed everyone to use the grassy area for fresh air and exercise. The watchers could alert the people outside long before any soldiers actually made it onto the university grounds. Plus, the outdoor recreation area, as they now called it, had easy access to the tunnels, making it an instant favorite for everyone.

  Nancy felt as though she needed to go outside periodically in order to keep her sanity. The stuffy air and darkness in the tunnels played tricks on her mind. The dim lights used in their subterranean world caused ever-changing shadows on the tunnel walls. At times those shadows looked like humans. At other times, the shadows were more sinister creatures right out of a sci-fi horror film.

  “Where do you think they are?” asked Nancy.

  “Hopefully near the camp, if there is one.”

  “You don’t think there’s a camp out there for them to find?”

  “I have no idea. I just feel like they don’t have a lot of information to work with. Ed did a great job analyzing the area, but even so, they’re really just guessing,” said Brett.

  “True. I’d hate to think they’re on a wild-goose chase,” she said.

  “Exactly. I had my reservations about them going, but Joe did seem fairly certain that there’s a survivalist camp somewhere in the mountains. That gave me pause. Now I wish I had spoken my mind.”

  “I know. I’m feeling it too. But they’ll be as careful as possible. You’ll see. Within a few days, they’ll be back with reports about the camp, or lack thereof.”

  Nancy laid her head back down onto the soft grass. A few longer blades tickled the side of her neck and face, causing her to itch. The grass had grown since the lights went out. Without anyone around to fix the mowers and do regular maintenance, the campus began to look abandoned.

  “Here comes Ed,” said Brett.

  Nancy sat up as Ed walked toward them. She did not want to be lying down in front of her boss. Even though the situation hardly required formality, she still felt better sitting up than lying flat when he approached.

  “Hey, guys! Soaking up the sunshine?”

  “You got it. As much as we can possibly get,” said Brett.

  Ed sat down to join them. Usually Ed seemed to be on the move, resting only at night.

  “It’s nice to see you taking a break,” commented Nancy.

  “I feel like I need one. Worrying about our cycling group is killing me,” said Ed.

  “We were just talking about that. I think they have the best possible chance of finding the camp. At this point, all we can do is wait for their return,” said Brett.

  Nancy considered Ed for a moment and then said, “What do you think happened?”

  “With what?” said Ed.

  “I mean with all of this. Like, what’s your guess on what caused the EMP? It just occurred to me that we never asked you.”

  “Every day I ask myself that same question. I haven’t come to any solid conclusions, of course. I’d like to think something innocent started the ball rolling. But it just makes no sense that the troops would be on us so quickly. It’s like they were prepared for this somehow,” said Ed.

  “We think the government orchestrated an EMP in order to use it as an excuse to round up civilians,” said Brett.

  “Yes. That’s the consensus around here too. But for what purpose?”

  “The erosion of our Fourth Amendment rights. You’ll see, this whole thing will get resolved. Everyone will move back home just like nothing happened. Then Congress will craft some sort of hole right through the search and seizure laws.”

  “I’m worried about that too. They could use this event to justify the complete eradication of probable cause. That’s the easiest thing to do. Without the police needing probable cause to stop motorists or to enter and search a home, they’d run completely free.”

  “None of us would be safe. It’s easy to imagine petty, small-minded politicians using the local police as their own personal hit squad. They could quickly incarcerate just about anyone they deemed a threat to their office,” said Ed.

  “Exactly. And once incarcerated, the politicians could also dispense with the right to a speedy trial. People could be sitting in jail for years before a judge ever reviewed their case,” said Nancy.

  “I’m sure glad I’m not in the Sociology Department. You guys are freaking me out!” said Brett.

  “Too bad Marvin isn’t here. He can really spin a good conspiracy tale,” said Ed, chuckling.

  “Unless you guys are right, in the end it probably doesn’t matter what happened,” said Brett.

  “No. It doesn’t matter. I’m trying to focus my energy on staying out of the whole mess. If I can keep us safe and out of one of their internment camps, we might just make it through this thing,” said Ed.

  “Yes. We just might make it through this thing thanks to your leadership,” said Nancy.

  — 14 —

  Joe checked his watch for the tenth time in under a minute. Overkill for sure, but he really wanted to be certain they did not pass the location where he suspected the camp to be. The only way to determine their progress on the map required them to keep a steady pace and for him to scrutinize the time.

  “We should stop here. I think we’ve gone far enough,” said Joe, slowing his bike.

  “Do you think we should be there?” asked Meg as she pulled up next to him.

  “I haven’t seen any cross streets. It’s odd,” said Mike.

  “I know, it is odd. I don’t think we passed it. I’ve been
really careful not to pass the entrance. I think at this point we need to walk the bikes and look closely for a road on the right side. From the looks of the map, it’s not much of a road. We could easily miss it.”

  Joe dismounted and walked the bike forward, scanning the bushes along the road for any sign of a gap. He hoped his rough calculations were correct. If not, they had a long walk in front of them.

  A few minutes later Meg said, “Okay. I officially hate pushing this stupid bike more than riding it. Who knew this would be so hard?”

  “Maybe we should ditch the bikes. We could mark their location on the road, like we did when we hid Brett and Nancy’s bikes. It might be easier than walking with them,” said Mike.

  “Sure. That could work. With any luck, we won’t have far to go,” said Joe. “The camp has to be close.”

  They quickly placed their bikes in a concealed location in the forest. Meg collected rocks for marking the spot on the road.

  “That should do it,” said Meg, placing the last rock.

  The group continued their slow progress toward the camp. Their near silent footfalls allowed them to hear more of the forest sounds.

  “I’m just not seeing anything. Maybe Ed was wrong and the camp isn’t up here?” said Mike.

  “Or maybe I’m wrong and the camp isn’t even in this area,” said Joe, crestfallen.

  “It has to be here. Let’s keep going for a little ways. If we don’t see a road or any indication that the camp is here, then we can consider looking at the second location,” said Meg.

  “You’re not concerned about the soldiers we saw earlier?” asked Mike.

  “I am concerned about them. But we haven’t seen or heard anything for a few hours. I’d think if they were near enough to be a threat, we’d know.”

  “We didn’t last time,” said Joe.

  “I know, but this time we’re listening for them. Besides, I really don’t want to have to ride back out here,” said Meg.

  “That’s odd,” said Mike.

  “What?”

  “Look at this black mark on the road. It’s curved,” said Mike.

  “So? What’s odd about that?” asked Joe.

  “A curved arch like that only comes from wheels turning, not going straight. Like they were skidding.”

  “Maybe there was an accident here?” offered Meg.

  “I don’t think so. The length of the arch and the curve indicate that it has to be a car turning. Quickly, but not an accident. Accident skid marks are usually longer and deeper. As the car is struggling to slow down, it will leave a long straight mark on the road. This mark, although faint, is from a vehicle turning. We need to look into the trees closer.”

  Impressed, Joe asked, “How do you know so much about skid marks?”

  “A number of years back, my grandma was in a really bad car wreck. It was so bad that it left her paralyzed from the waist down. The other guy caused it but wouldn’t pay for her medical care. His insurance company claimed they were both at fault, so she got a good lawyer and sued them.”

  “Did she win?”

  “She sure did, because of the accident reconstructionist her attorney hired. The skid marks told the whole story of what caused the accident, and it wasn’t my granny. I learned a lot about what they do from the whole experience.”

  They stood in the road, taking in their surroundings.

  Finally Mike said, “We need to get off the main road. Let’s poke into the forest over here, near the mark. Maybe the entrance is concealed.”

  They breached the dense tree line, which guarded the forest’s interior from the street. Tall thick trees stood sentry over the woods in a formidable line.

  Once inside the forest, Joe said, “I’ll be damned. You’re right! Look over here.”

  A wide dirt road snaked into the dark interior, its location concealed from the main road by tree branches. Someone had hung the branches from the existing trees in such a way as to create a visual screen from the road.

  “Clever! They really don’t want to be found,” said Meg.

  “Makes me wonder what sort of people we’ll find at the camp,” said Mike.

  “Me too,” said Joe.

  They walked down the dirt road in silence. The road curved through the woods, ending at a wrought-iron gate. The words “Better Way” were written on the arch of the gate.

  Joe walked up to the gates and gave it a vigorous shake. Its sturdy locks didn’t budge.

  “Better Way? Do you think this is it?” asked Meg.

  “I’m not sure, but I’d like to know what’s inside,” said Joe.

  — 15 —

  Chet Flemming sat at his desk in the manager’s shed of the Better Way survivalist camp. He’d built the shed not because he thought he would need an office area to run his operation, but rather so everyone would know he was the boss. Others could not gain access to the manager’s shed unless he allowed it. The shed created enough separation between himself and his fellow campers to set him apart from them.

  Chet had grown up on the property where the camp was now located and never intended to venture much farther away. However, at the age of thirty-six his mother kicked him out of the family home. The drugs and alcohol he constantly consumed finally caught up with him. He lost his driver’s license following his third driving while intoxicated conviction. Tired of watching the downward spiral, his mother said she could not live with someone so intent on pissing away his life.

  With no place to go, Chet did the only thing he could. He survived. He took a small bundle of personal belongings, his stash of drugs, and as much alcohol as he could carry, and walked out. His mother owned over three hundred acres of land in the mountains. Her property abutted a forest owned by the Land Preservation Society, making her land feel even vaster. Without the benefit of a plan, he decided to head into nature, where he could use whatever substances he chose without the judgmental eye of either his mother or civilization.

  Drunk and stoned, he trekked deep into the woods to find a place for himself. Soon he lost his way, unable to distinguish one tree from the next. Every attempt to get out of the vast forest resulted in him feeling even more lost. Without a tent or any real survival skills, he barely made it through the first winter. Constant starvation coupled with the freezing temperatures nearly drove him to the point of death. A tarp strung up between tree branches served as a makeshift tent. The only food he ate came entirely from the land.

  Eventually, the drug and alcohol supply dwindled to nothing, leaving him stone-cold sober with the reality he’d haphazardly created. Those were the days that transformed him from a lost soul into the man he always knew he could become. Once his anger subsided, allowing him to think more clearly, he found himself. He created tools and then cut down trees to form a very rough log cabin. Soon after, he began to farm the land. Over time, he healed himself. The challenges of living alone with nature seemed to smooth out his rough edges and give him a previously unknown confidence.

  After nearly seven years of living alone in the wild mountainous forest, he decided to once again search for home. He packed the few things he still possessed and headed out. The journey took several weeks. Finally, he picked the correct direction, managing to stumble upon his mother’s home.

  His family house had changed dramatically since he had left. The lovingly cared for flower gardens now had a thick layer of weeds, making the beds blend seamlessly into the rest of the unkempt yard. The large wraparound deck, which his mother insisted on painting every summer, now looked warped, the paint chipping from every surface of the once pristine decking. He and his mother had loved to relax on the once beautiful deck, sipping lemonade and playing cards in an effort to beat the heat of summer.

  A pile of weathered mail littered the entrance to the house. Someone had taped several letters addressed to him to the front door. He grabbed one, opening it quickly. A law firm had been trying to contact him for over two years. They regretted to inform him that his mother had passed away du
ring his absence. The entire estate now belonged to him.

  The news hit him hard. He dropped the letter and sat on the deck. He had not talked to anyone in years. The first communication with the outside world announced the death of his mother in the coldest terms possible. Nothing had changed while he retreated. The world would continue to kick him in the teeth at every turn.

  Once he settled his mother’s estate, he lived on the farm, mostly keeping to himself. One day, he read an advertisement for a camp that claimed to teach people survival skills. The ad made him laugh out loud. He wondered how anyone could teach survival skills unless they’d actually survived. On a lark, he decided to attend one of the sessions, to test his skills against those of the instructors.

  He knew the course would be basic compared to the knowledge he’d acquired in the wild. His skills had been honed from fighting for survival, not playing survivalist. The instructors worked hard to teach the attendees how to survive. However, the thin veneer of their knowledge would never stand up to the real challenges of raw survival. After leaving the school, he realized that he could monetize his vast survival skills.

  He quickly set up the “Better Way Survival School.” Chet named it “Better Way” because he thought there could always be a better way of doing something. One just had to find it. Over time, he built a steady following of people eager to learn from him.

  The land he inherited from his mother turned out to be perfect for the camp. The vast acreage and isolated location allowed him to really test people’s skills. He did everything right when setting up the camp. He even closely guarded its location. People taking his classes never knew the precise location of the camp. Instead, he had the group attendees assemble at a meeting spot in the city. From there, he picked them up in an old unmarked school bus. He purposely left the camp’s name off the bus in case anyone felt inclined to follow the group. He required everyone to don an eye mask as he drove to the camp. The mysterious location made the camp wildly popular.