EMP Catastrophe | Book 2 | Erupting Danger

by Hamilton, Grace

  Max wished he knew something helpful to say, but instead he gaped like a fish out of water and tried to keep himself upright. When he linked arms with Jade, she felt as tense as a wire.

  “He’s going to be okay,” Jade said as they watched Matthew, Wyatt, and Patton rush David up the mountain road. “He will. I know he will.”

  For the second time in his life, Max held his tongue. He squeezed Jade’s arm. I hope so.

  Epilogue

  His beer was warm.

  Samuel grimaced as he pried the cap off with a bottle opener. He’d lost count of how many he’d had today, but knew that each time he opened up a new one, it was warm. No condensation chilled his hands. Each swig did nothing to quench his thirst. He took a drink and snarled at the bottle. He knew some people drank their beer warm, but to him it did nothing but make him annoyed.

  And he had plenty of things to be annoyed about these days. Warm beer didn’t have to be one of them.

  He settled into his plush armchair and stared at the blank television screen. He couldn’t even watch the game anymore. Couldn’t even flip to his favorite reality-television show or watch the hunting channel. All he could do was sit here in his living room and stew in his anger. The shades had been drawn for days, letting an off-yellow sunlight through the slats that illuminated the old brown shag carpet, the wood-paneled walls, and the stacks of gun magazines piled up in one corner. Beyond that, unwashed dishes filled the porcelain sink and the refrigerator had started to smell off. Samuel had inherited this dump from his family, and he never kept it up, convinced his lucky break would show up any day now. That someday he would take back the hotel that was rightfully his and then his life would actually start.

  But that hadn’t happened, had it? He took another swig of beer and let out an annoyed sigh. Now he would rot in this seventies-throwback house until the end of his days. He was running out of mac and cheese. For once in his life, he was getting sick of the powdered orange cheese flavoring. He had to figure out what to do next, but every time he thought of that posh city jerk holding his own beloved shotgun to his face, Samuel wanted to do nothing but crack open another bottle of beer and grimace that it wasn’t cold.

  A sudden crashing noise broke the silence. Samuel went still and cocked his head, listening. Another crash, and this time, he knew some hooligan jerks had gotten into his garage. Too big a crash to be mice. Too small to be deer. Cursing his luck, Samuel stood and fetched Old Lucy from her spot leaning against the wall. At least he hadn’t lost this shotgun to some hotel-stealing property-thieves. Checking the bullets, he went to the door leading into the garage and opened it up slowly.

  In the dim light, he could see two figures rifling through his tall toolbox. Well-kept silver Allen wrenches of all sizes crashed to the floor as one of the men uttered a curse. His drill followed next, the electric cord a useless bundle on the concrete like a curled snake.

  “Even a band-aid, man,” one of the men said, clutching his shoulder.

  “There’s nothing in here but measuring tapes and nails,” his partner snarled.

  Samuel had about had enough of people taking what was his. He raised Old Lucy and cleared his throat.

  Another crash. There went his screwdrivers pinging all over the ground. The one rifling through the box held up a small hammer and Samuel chuckled. The idiot was so scared Samuel could see the whites of his eyes.

  “I’d love to chat, fellas,” Samuel drawled. “What right do you think you have to ruin my perfectly laid out tools?”

  “Listen,” the man with the hammer stammered, “we don’t mean no harm.”

  With his arms raised, Samuel could see the holster around the man’s waist. Empty. Pity.

  “I sure hope not,” Samuel said, taking a step down so that he was fully in the garage. The door behind him swung closed with a practiced kick of his foot. “What’s wrong with your friend? He not scared of Old Lucy?”

  The guy with the hammer glanced over his shoulder at his friend, who was clutching his shoulder and had kept his hands down. Blood coated the man’s fingers. “I can’t,” the wounded man said. “I’ve been shot. My arm doesn’t work.”

  “Is that why you’re looking for a band-aid?” Samuel smirked.

  The man with the hammer flushed, making his eyes glitter with the beginnings of anger. “That’s right.”

  Samuel stepped closer and finally a ray of light strengthened through the dirty garage door windows, enough for him to make out the tattoos lining the man with the hammer’s fingers. Some of them sloppy, as if they’d been done in prison. Not too professional. The other one had the same markings, except all of them looked as though the ink was turning blue even though the man appeared to be fairly young.

  “I could just shoot you both,” he said conversationally. “Won’t matter much to me. I don’t think anyone would miss a couple of fugitives like you. Where’d you break out of?”

  The wounded man hissed. The man holding the hammer tightened his grip around the handle.

  “But that would leave quite the mess in my garage,” Samuel said, raising the barrel until it was pointed straight at the wounded man’s forehead. “Not to mention the damage I’d do to my yard having to bury the both of you. So why don’t you tell Old Lucy what you’re really doing here. If I like your story, I might give you a band-aid. Probably has dinosaurs on it, though.”

  The man with the hammer looked to his friend, and it seemed as though in their wordless exchange, they came to a decision. The man with the hammer turned back and met Samuel’s eyes.

  No fear. Samuel liked that.

  “Yeah, okay, we’ve been to prison,” the man growled and lowered his blunt weapon, “and we were here on a job. Help some poor low-level nobody get revenge on his friend. Colin, though, he’s crazy. Kidnapped a kid, for god’s sake.”

  “The friend’s nephew,” the wounded man added in helpfully.

  “Shut up, Jimmy. Yeah, the nephew. Makes all these threats that he’s gonna beat the kid up, do awful things to him if his uncle doesn’t show. Well, when his uncle does show, he brings his whole mountain-family with him and opens fire on us. Me and Jimmy, we barely made it out with our lives.”

  “Killed the rest of our gang, didn’t they, Dean? Took Colin out with a shot to the stomach. Brutal way to go, man. Brutal.”

  “Shut up, Jimmy. Yeah, got Colin in the gut, and the rest fell to the ground. Hit Jimmy straight in the shoulder, but hey, we don’t got skin in that game. No point giving our lives for some crazy nobody who kidnaps kids. Wasn’t my hostage situation, and if it was, I would’ve handled it a whole lot better than Colin.”

  “Not that we haven’t kidnapped kids before. Right, Dean?”

  “Shut up, Jimmy. Yeah, we’ve done crap like that before, but only because it came from up high. Colin meant nothing to us, and now here we are in some backwoods hideout, trying to stop Jimmy from bleeding out. I’d rather be back in Chicago, man, I haven’t seen that kind of firepower in a long time. First time Jimmy has been hit, too.”

  “I’d like that dinosaur band-aid,” Jimmy said helpfully.

  Samuel didn’t speak for a moment, mulling over their story in his mind. “You don’t know who this family was?” he finally asked.

  “Nope,” Jimmy said. “Didn’t know any of them. Did you, Dean?”

  “Shut up, Jimmy. Of course I didn’t know any of them. Never even been out of Chicago this far before. The fresh air is giving me hives.”

  Jimmy laughed. “Good one, Dean. Good one.”

  Samuel eyed the two men up and down again. Fugitives, yes. Idiots, also yes. But he could work with guys like these who seemed to take orders and yet knew how to get their hands dirty. “You feel like getting a little revenge before you head back to Chicago?” he asked. “Might want to take out that mountain-family for what they did to your friends?”

  “Colin wasn’t our friend,” Jimmy said, clutching his wound tighter. Blood started to spread down his arm. “But the others were. Rem
ember Big Ollie? He was good people, Dean. Good people.”

  “Jimmy, seriously. Shut up. Yeah, Big Ollie was good people. Honestly. we can’t go back to the cartel without something to show for it or they’ll think we’re the ones that bungled everything.”

  “Or that we ran away,” Jimmy pointed out.

  “Which we didn’t,” Dean said heatedly.

  “Might be able to get some of those guns they had, do you think, Dean? Lots of firepower.”

  “Yeah, Jimmy. First good idea you’ve had all day.”

  Samuel rolled his eyes. “Are you a married couple or mob men?” he demanded. “What’s it going to be, yes or no?”

  For a blessed moment, the two fugitives did that eye-communication thing. Dean turned back to Samuel. “Yes,” he said. “Not for Colin. But for Big Ollie.”

  “Good man,” Samuel said and lowered Old Lucy. “Come on inside, then. The beer is warm, but we won’t let that stand in our way. Nothing will stand in our way now.”

  End of Erupting Danger

  EMP Catastrophe Book Two

  Erupting Trouble, April 14th, 2021

  Erupting Danger, May 12th, 2021

  Erupting Chaos, June 9th, 2021

  PS: Do you love unputdownable fiction? Then keep reading for exclusive extracts from Erupting Chaos, Undaunted and Survive the Chaos.

  Thank you

  Thank you for purchasing ‘Erupting Danger’

  (EMP Catastrophe Book Two)

  Get prepared and sign-up to Grace’s mailing list to be notified of the next release at

  www.GraceHamiltonBooks.com.

  Loved this book? Share it with a friend, www.GraceHamiltonBooks.com/books

  Make an Author’s Day

  There's nothing better than reading great reviews from readers like yourself, but there's more to it than simply putting a smile on my face. As an independent author, I don't have the financial might of a big NYC publishing house or the clout to get in Oprah's book club. What I do have as my not-so-secret weapon is you, my awesome readers!

  If you enjoyed this book, I'd be incredibly grateful if you could leave a quick review. Simply TAP HERE or just leave a review when prompted by Amazon at the end of this book. Alternatively, head over to the product page for this book on Amazon and leave a review there—look for the WRITE A CUSTOMER REVIEW link.

  No matter the length (short is fine!), your review will help this series get the exposure it needs to grow and make it into the hands of other awesome readers. Plus, reading your kind reviews is often the highlight of my day, so please be sure to let me know what you loved most about this book.

  About Grace Hamilton

  Grace Hamilton is the prepper pen-name for a bad-ass, survivalist momma-bear of four kids, and wife to a wonderful husband. After being stuck in a mountain cabin for six days following a flash flood, she decided she never wanted to feel so powerless or have to send her kids to bed hungry again. Now she lives the prepper lifestyle and knows that if SHTF or TEOTWAWKI happens, she’ll be ready to help protect and provide for her family.

  Combine this survivalist mentality with a vivid imagination (as well as a slightly unhealthy day dreaming habit) and you get a prepper fiction author. Grace spends her days thinking about the worst possible survival situations that a person could be thrown into, then throwing her characters into these nightmares while trying to figure out "What SHOULD you do in this situation?"

  You will find Grace on:

  BLURB

  A dire situation keeps getting worse…

  When Matthew Riley’s father collapses with a possible heart attack, it drives home just how bad the situation in Galena, IL has become after an EMP knocked out the power around the world. David needs medication and the group needs a doctor if everyone is going to survive in the long term. But hostile forces have their eyes on the River Rock Hotel, and keeping the family safe may be impossible.

  Things aren’t going back to normal…

  Kathleen Riley knows it, even if her husband hasn’t admitted it yet. With new allies at their side, the Riley family has a chance to fortify their hotel and start rebuilding a life in the new world. But with Matthew rushing to make things seem normal again, they’re at risk of exposing themselves to hostile forces.

  An old enemy returns…

  Life is already difficult enough even before the family receives news that Samuel West is back in town. He’s brought friends and he’s ready to fight to take control of the Red Rock Hotel and the remnants of Galena. The Rileys will do anything to keep their land, but after another tragedy strikes they may not be able to win. After all, what is survival worth if everything you’re surviving for is never coming back?

  Get your copy of Erupting Chaos

  Available June 9th, 2021

  (Available for pre-order now)

  www.GraceHamiltonBooks.com

  EXCERPT

  Chapter One

  Within Matthew’s arms, David’s weak form slowly become dead weight.

  David’s feet stumbled against the ground, his toes dragging, even with Matthew and Wyatt’s strength keeping him upright. Patton grunted as he tried to help hold his grandfather up. The heavy press of David’s shoulders sank into Matthew, seeming to become wooden and lifeless.

  The weight made Matthew’s muscles tremble with exertion as he tried to encourage his father to continue walking up the mountain and back to the hotel. We’re not going to make it, he thought, panicked.

  Patton let out a frustrated cry of denial just before David slipped from their collective grasp, nearly collapsing on the ground. Matthew caught Wyatt’s concerned gaze. They needed to pause and readjust. More than that, they needed to make sure David was still breathing. The thought sent another wave of panicked grief through him, but Matthew refused to give in to it. David was still alive. This was just a setback. They could handle this. They would get David home. All he needed was rest. Once they got back to the hotel, David would be fine.

  Matthew’s arms shook as he and Wyatt laid David face-up on the side of the road. When Matthew knelt over his father, the sight of David’s face filled him with dread. David looked pale. Sweat dotted his brow. When Matthew reached out to touch his cheek, his father’s skin felt clammy and cold.

  “Dad, I’m sorry,” Patton sobbed. “Grandpa was too heavy. I didn’t mean to drop him!”

  Matthew took in a shuddering breath and was about to console his son when his mind went blank, all except for the image of his parents’ old house in Chicago. That cramped dining room filled to the brim with inherited furniture, and the smell of roasted chicken filling the air.

  This couldn’t be happening again. Memories slammed into him like a hammer hitting an anvil. David’s mouth parted just a touch and he took a wheezing breath in, but he didn’t exhale.

  Was this another heart attack?

  Not again, Matthew thought as he fell to his knees and placed his hands over David’s chest. Forming fists, he pushed hard against the breastbone protecting David’s heart. He began to do chest compressions and rescue breathing. With each pump of his hands pushing into David’s chest, he remembered the first time he’d done this. The first time he’d failed at this…

  He, Kathleen, and the kids had gone over to his parents’ house for dinner. It had been a semi-consistent event for them. Half the time they cancelled dinners because of Matthew’s meetings going late with clients, or Kathleen needing to stay up late to grade papers, or sometimes they were just too exhausted and lied, ordering pizza and feeling guilty instead. But this time, they’d honored their commitment.

  The dinner had been a chaotic affair in that small, contained way that family get-togethers can be. He remembered Patton excitedly talking Ruth’s ear off as she stuck the rosemary chicken breasts into the oven, and how Kathleen scolded Allison for turning into a texting zombie, and then promptly scolded Matthew for checking his emails too often. How David had grumbled when Ruth put him to work whipping the potatoes. Matthew had poured himself a gla
ss of wine, his thoughts on a contract he was waiting to finalize. All it would need was his signature, and then another fun project and a payday was promised to him. He checked his email again and ignored Kathleen’s scowl.

  Over dinner, David and Matthew had gotten into a light-hearted disagreement over politics. David had just shot off another barbed comment to Matthew when he suddenly gasped and put his hand over his chest. His face went deadly pale. Sweat beaded his brow. When Matthew put his hand on David’s arm to steady him, his father sank to the floor as though he were a puppet and all of his strings had suddenly been cut.

  “You’re not going deep enough,” Wyatt said, breaking Matthew’s memory to pieces.

  “I can do it,” Matthew said through gritted teeth. He began to push harder into David’s chest, hating that with each pump of his fists, David’s face seemed to become that much more lax, as if all his life were seeping out of him. Matthew couldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop this. Why couldn’t he stop it? He had to stop it.

  He remembered how David had slipped through his arms that first time. He’d been so shocked. David’s body had headed toward the carpet as if he didn’t know how to respond properly. As if David had lost control of his limbs. Matthew had fumbled at David’s arm, wrenching it awkwardly, as David landed on the floor with a crash. His mother shrieked. Kathleen gasped before crying out, “I’m calling 911!” Allison walked back into the dining room and said, “Dad, what’s wrong with Grandpa?” in a lost voice, while Patton peeked around her with eyes wide as saucers.