EMP Catastrophe | Book 2 | Erupting Danger

by Hamilton, Grace

  David felt stunned and then abashed. He looked at Jade to see if she would confirm. She shrugged. “I guess I didn’t,” David said.

  Wyatt chuckled. “It was pretty run down back in the day, but it definitely worked. We used to throw stones in and listen to them plonk. It might not be functioning now, but I bet with some work and love, it could be up and running in no time.”

  Hope blossomed in David’s chest. “If we could get it working again, we wouldn’t have to worry about fresh water,” he said.

  “I could help you fix it up,” Wyatt offered. “Maybe you’d let me and mine have access to it. I could even help you locate it.”

  David pondered for a moment. “We’re in need of a lot of things,” he admitted. “Would you be open to trading other things in exchange for water?”

  “Things like bullets?” Wyatt asked.

  “Are you reading my mind?” David asked with a laugh.

  “Nah,” Wyatt said. “I just saw your family dry-firing yesterday. I figured if you were doing that, you must be low on ammunition.”

  “So you’re the one who’s been watching the hotel. You’ve given my daughter-in-law quite the scare on more than one occasion.”

  Wyatt looked ashamed. “I am sorry about that. I was being cautious.”

  “It’s all right. Just rethink your tactics next time, or we wouldn’t have wasted a bullet thinking someone was after us. Yes, we are running low on ammunition,” David admitted. “We wanted to conserve our resources as much as we could.”

  “I hear ya.” Wyatt pulled up a chair and sat in it and pointed at Jade. “This one almost took out one of our guys while we were bringing you in. Almost fired her gun on us.”

  Jade snorted without shame. “Shouldn’t have tried to break my arm then,” she said.

  “We explained to her that we were looking for partners,” Wyatt said to David. “If the River Rock would be willing to work with us, we could make a fine partnership to get through whatever has happened with the world.”

  “I’d like that,” David said, “but I do need to speak with my family. Especially my son.”

  “Understood,” Wyatt said. “If you could do that sooner rather than later, I’d be most appreciative. I can give you my water jugs to show good faith while we find the well. Or, I can give you the empties and you can bring them back once you’ve found the well. Then we can trade for ammunition.”

  David felt as though Wyatt was pressuring him. The man must be much lower on water than he’d first led David to believe. “I’ll need to talk to my family first,” he reiterated.

  “Of course,” Wyatt said and stood up. He gave David a strained smile and took the empty glass. “I’ll get you more before you head back home.”

  “Really, you don’t have to,” David protested.

  Wyatt waved him off. “No use being alive if you can’t be kind,” he said, and left the room.

  As soon as he was gone, Jade turned to look at David. “Matt will not be happy,” she said. “He won’t agree to any of this.”

  David shushed her even as his determination became stronger. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I know my son. I’ll figure it out.”

  18

  Max’s breath whooshed out of him when one of Colin’s goons kicked him in the kidneys. He barely managed to catch his next breath before another kick landed in his stomach. He curled up in a ball on the pavement, but he knew that such a meager defense would only last so long. With four men attacking him, Max had very little time before he was roadkill. This was worse than any prison beatdown he’d endured. His legs curled up to protect his stomach. His arms crisscrossed across his head to save his face, but even then, he wasn’t able to stop a fist from colliding with his eye. His healing ribs began to ache again as the new beating opened up old wounds. He could barely think.

  If he didn’t act fast, there would be no way he would survive this. Out here, Colin didn’t have to worry about guards breaking up the fight. He could take his time, debilitating Max until escape would look like a dream. Max had to fight back before he was injured any further.

  Blindly, he punched out and heard laughter above him. Colin and his gang thought Max was weak. Maybe he could use that to his advantage. He took a couple more punches and amplified his cries so he sounded worse off than he was. He whimpered and cowered, trying to look as small and pathetic as possible.

  “Whoa, guys, take it easy on the little bird. We still need to take him back,” Colin said lazily.

  Another kick caught Max between the ribs and he gasped in pain, but at least the frequency of kicks had lessened. Now was his only time to strike. He kicked out with his feet and heard the satisfying crunch and cry as his heel collided with an ankle. He rebounded onto all fours and rammed into the legs of another man, managing to topple the guy over him. He landed a couple of quick punches to the guy’s side before slithering out from under him and bolting down the freeway.

  “Come back here!” Colin screamed behind him. “I said get back here, you piece of—”

  But Max’s blood roared in his ears as he launched himself over the interstate and up the hill. The climb made his legs burn as he scurried around dead cars, crouching to stay low. Hopefully, he could lose Colin and his gang here, but their cries and the pounding of their feet were far too close.

  He had no idea what to do. His sides ached and it felt as though he couldn’t bring in enough air. He hoped nothing inside him was bleeding or broken, because there wouldn’t be a hospital or doctor to come to his aid. Luckily, his bag was still attached to his shoulders, even though it felt as though it had been packed with bricks. He might be able to manage some kind of treatment with the first aid kit.

  Desperately, he started pulling on car doors. Maybe he could figure out a way to hot-wire one of them, but his head was swimming from a particularly well-aimed punch, and even if he found a likely car, he wasn’t sure he could manage. He might not have a choice, though. There was nothing else before him but miles of asphalt and dead vehicles with hardly any place to hide. He needed a moment of peace to think. To figure out what to do next. He’d almost rounded the top of the hill and could see the expanse below uncluttered with cars and a bridge crossing the small creek.

  He dodged through a set of cars and frantically yanked on a copper-colored Isuzu Trooper from the ’80s. It opened, and he slipped into the driver seat, gasping for air. “C’mon, c’mon,” he said as he wrenched the plastic panel under the wheel down and out. In the rearview mirror, he caught sight of the shapes of Colin’s goons running up the hill. Getting closer by the minute. His hand naturally drifted to the stick shift.

  “Hallelujah.” He laughed and pushed in the clutch, slamming the shift into neutral. The car was balanced on the pinnacle of the hill where it could go backwards or forwards. He rocked forward as if his weight would help and felt the give of the car begin to move on its own down the hill. Max placed his hands on the wheel and tried to steer it around a Ford Taurus, but the wheel jerked in his hands as if concrete blocks had been erected on either side. Steering column locked. Fear dumped into his bloodstream. Before him, the interstate was less cluttered than he’d seen, but vehicles were still parked on the road. There was nothing he could do but hope he could get through the maze without a serious crash. The need to put space between him and his attackers was like a blaring neon sign in the back of his mind.

  The Isuzu skirted the Taurus, but still bashed out the side mirror. “Sorry!” Max said out of reflex and hoped that no one was around to see it. Moments later, the Isuzu rammed into the bumper of another small car, taking out the headlight with a crunch and crash. The Isuzu was picking up speed, and his world began to pass him by in a blur. He had no control. Looking behind him, he could see a man stopped at the top of the hill with his hands on his knees as if taking a breather. Another man started to gallop down the hill in chase.

  “Please, please, please,” Max whispered, but whether he was begging the car to behave or the men to stay awa
y, he couldn’t say. Probably both.

  The Isuzu side-swiped another two-seater car hard enough that it began to drift toward the shoulder of the road at an impossible speed. Max grabbed on to the wheel, knowing it was useless, and tried to overcorrect to the right. Nothing happened. The wheel was locked. The Isuzu rammed into another bumper and jolted, skidding closer to the bridge railing. Max felt the top-heavy cab begin to roll. The railing loomed in front of him. He bellowed a wordless shout of terror and thrust his hands over his face as the square front bumper smashed into metal. The sudden collision sent the Isuzu rolling over the side and then Max’s world flipped upside down. Everything moved in slow motion.

  He watched the trees turn upside down. His head cracked on something hard. I’m not wearing a seatbelt, he thought woozily, just before he heard a dim, faraway collision and the skidding splash like a rock skipping across the surface of a river. Everything went black.

  He came to with a start. Blood ran down his forehead. Wiping it away in a daze, he realized the Isuzu had toppled over the bridge and landed right side up in the river bed. He tasted blood in his mouth. The neon sign in his brain was still flashing. Space. He still needed to get space.

  Wrenching open the door, he collapsed in a heap on the riverbank. The water soaked his knees, but luckily, he had landed just off the side of the creek which was full with winter run-off. The laugh that bubbled out of his mouth sounded hysterical. His backpack was miraculously still affixed to his shoulders, and he felt deep bruising in his chest as he staggered to his feet and felt the pack weigh him down. Behind him, the car was smoking as he splashed upriver.

  He dove under the bridge, nearly losing his balance and face-planting in the mud. He curled into a ball amid the mud and the yellowing scrubby bushes. The branches scratched at his face. He waited for the world to stop sloshing around him even as he heard cries echo above him. Everything sounded like a smear.

  “—dead? Do you see him?”

  “Useless piece, killed himself, idiot—”

  “—getting that picture—”

  He recognized the last voice to be Colin. He lay down flat in response, trying to pull the dead detritus that had fallen from the bushes over himself as some semblance of camouflage. The smell of gasoline filled his nostrils. Small rainbow-slick patches dotted the river and seeped from the crashed car. He saw one man peer over the side just before Max lost a good chunk of time to unconsciousness.

  When he woke with his cheek pillowed in the mud, he heard footsteps in the water and saw two men inspecting the riverbank in the opposite direction. He blinked a couple of times and wondered why they were heading…oh. They must have thought he’d jumped into the river and had been washed away downriver with the current. Which, if he’d been in his right mind, would have been a wise choice. He hoped they wouldn’t come back around and search this end of the bank. He didn’t know if he could fight back at this point. His body ached, and his thoughts kept meandering from pointless observations to terrified what-ifs.

  He let out a shaky breath as the two men shrugged at each other and clambered back up on top of the bridge. He tried to measure the time, but everything felt somewhat lopsided. All he knew was that at some point, Colin’s search party departed and Max was once again alone. Shivering from cold and shock, he managed to pick himself up and went to inspect the car.

  The front bumper was a mass of wires and bent metal. He peered inside, searching for anything of use, but found nothing. For a moment, he considered climbing back into the car and passing out, but if he had a concussion, it would be wise to stay awake for as long as he could. His mind made up, he stumbled back along the bank until he found a suitable place to climb back up near the interstate.

  The road lay out in front of him, but where before he saw an easy path to Kathleen’s, now he only saw an open expanse of danger. Easily seen, easily targeted. Still, he didn’t know a better way to get to Galena without taking massive detours. He’d stick to the woods that ran parallel to the road and hope that the sick rolling sensation in his mind would abate.

  Space, his mind reminded him. That was what he needed. He needed to put as much distance as he could between himself and Colin’s goons, as fast as possible. With a wince, he began to trot along the road, keeping to the shadows. He was close to Galena. Soon, he’d be back with his sister and his family. Everything would be okay. He could tell Kathleen everything that had happened, and they could laugh about all the stupid things Max had done. Together, they would figure out a way to keep Colin and his men away. She could point out all the things he should have done. He just had to keep going.

  Keep going, he told himself, even as darkness began to tunnel his vision. Keep going.

  19

  By the time Matthew turned away from the property line to return to the hotel, he was in full-scale panic. He’d risen with the sun after a day of rest, rejuvenated, only to quickly discover that his father and Jade had gone missing. He’d checked all the hotel rooms, the kitchen, and the cellar. He even ran out to inspect the fenced property line to look for any indication of foul play. A struggle perhaps. Nothing. Maybe they were out taking a morning stroll. Maybe Matthew was just overreacting. Yet, they didn’t come back. He kept searching.

  He found nothing. No sign of anything. Kathleen had told him that she hadn’t seen their mysterious Carpenter Country visitor watching the hotel the night before. Matthew simply didn’t know what had happened. David and Jade were just gone.

  The sun was starting to outline the mountain vistas when he finally spotted two figures walking up the driveway. Matthew saw red. The fear that had driven him all morning seemed to suddenly transform into an inferno of rage. What did his father think he was playing at—just disappearing in the middle of the night? Without a word? A warning? Making Kathleen pace? Making the kids exude that reserved, quiet fear?

  Matthew burst out the door and power-walked down the road to meet them. He tried to calm his breathing, but his hands were clenched into fists. He felt ready to explode. “Where have you been?” he hissed when he was close enough. “Do you have any idea how scared we all were? How scared I was—oh god, Dad. What happened to you?”

  One of David’s eyes was black and bruised. A dried slick of blood marred his neck. David looked at Matthew with a mixture of shy shame and defiance before glancing at Jade. Matthew’s anger rekindled. Why did he get the sense that the two of them were in cahoots? The way they stood close together reminded him of when he’d find Allison and Patton plotting something they weren’t supposed to.

  “We went to meet the Carpenter Country,” David admitted slowly, as if the admission was like pulling teeth.

  If Matthew thought he was angry before, now he felt like a kettle overflowing with steaming hot water. “You went where?” he demanded.

  “Carpenter Country,” David repeated, and it was as though he’d found his confidence again. He squared his shoulders. “I asked Jade to accompany me. We found out it was a gun club run by a man named Wyatt. Wyatt Carpenter.”

  “Oh,” Matthew snapped as his fury begin to poison his heart toward his father. “And how was your social call with Wyatt Carpenter?” He felt betrayed, like David had stabbed him in the back. Why did his father insist on butting heads with Matthew? Suddenly, it felt as though they weren’t in this together. They were on opposite sides of a divide, and neither was trying to reach the other.

  “Wyatt served as a Marine,” David said, sounding disapproving of Matthew’s sarcasm. “He’s part of a community of neighbors in Galena and members of the club who are working together to survive.”

  “Survive, is it? I thought you had some semblance of a survival instinct. Why would you put yourself in danger like that?” Matthew said and gestured toward David’s face. “Looks like they treated you really well.”

  David let out an aggravated sigh. “Don’t think of it like that. You’re missing the point entirely.”

  “Enlighten me, Dad.”

  “Jade and I m
ade steps toward finding an ally. Partners with supplies that are willing to trade with us.”

  “What kind of supplies does this Wyatt have to trade?” Matthew demanded, putting his hands on his hips.

  “Well, not supplies exactly—”

  Matthew threw his hands up in the air.

  “They have ammunition,” David insisted. “A vast wealth of knowledge far beyond what we know. What even Jade knows. More than that, they’re a community willing to help each other. That is invaluable, Matthew. They could help us rebuild the hotel. Wyatt is a Galena native. He knows the area and the people—”

  “So is Samuel,” Matthew said. “Do you think maybe he could help us out too? Help us fix up our hotel? Maybe we should just give it to him since he probably has a wealth of knowledge like Wyatt.”

  David frowned at Matthew. “I am still your father, Matthew. You do not need to speak to me that way.”

  “I wouldn’t have to if you gave me an ounce of respect,” Matthew shot back. “You think you know how to do everything, Dad. Even if people think differently than you, you still go ahead and do what you want.”

  “I will not answer that. I know that I’m doing the right thing. Did you know that there is a well on the property? An actual working well? I bet you didn’t.”

  Matthew bit the inside of his cheek and tried to keep the vitriol inside him from leaking out. A jealous seed bloomed inside of him. Why did it feel like everyone else was better at handling the apocalypse than he was? He thought he and David could be a team. He never thought his father would turn on him like this.

  Matthew resolved to take the high road and stomped down on his anger. He had to think about the overall health of his family. “No. I did not know there was a well on the property.”

  Jade pushed her hands into the pockets of her jeans and looked between David and Matthew in discomfort.

  “Like I said,” David continued, “Wyatt played on the property when he was young and asked for the use of our well. In exchange they would be willing to trade ammunition. Since they’re in the gun club, they could probably manufacture bullets so we would never run out. We would always have a means to defend ourselves.”