Turbulent: A Post Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller (Days of Want Series Book 1)

by T. L. Payne

  "Rob!" April screamed.

  April raced toward Rob. The mob of boys grabbed her. They pounced on her in unison, knocking her to the ground. Each thug pounded and kicked her over and over. Emma stood frozen.

  “No!” Emma wailed.

  As Emma’s foot lifted from the pavement, Maddie seized her by the collar of her shirt, nearly jerking her off her feet. Wrapping her other arm around the girl’s midsection, Maddie turned Emma away from the bloody scene.

  Maddie looked over her shoulder. The tallest boy drew out a pistol and pressed it to the passenger’s head. The boom of the shot startled the other boys. As the gang turned their attention toward the car, Maddie took Emma by the hand, pulling her from the alley and away from the slaughter that had befallen her parents.

  “Let me go, I have to help them,” Emma cried as she clawed at Maddie’s hand on her arm.

  Maddie stopped running but did not release her grip on Emma. Emma yanked as hard as she could to get away, but Maddie held tight.

  “Emma,” Maddie said, placing one hand on the girl’s shoulder. Bending down, Maddie placed her forehead against Emma’s.

  “You can’t save them. Those boys have guns. There is nothing we can do for them. They would want you to run away. They would want you to live.”

  As Maddie wrapped her arms around her, Emma sobbed into Maddie’s shoulder.

  Maddie held Emma tight as she surveyed the scene on the street. The sun was beginning to rise. She got her first glimpse of the damage done during the night. Maddie took Emma by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes. Wiping tears from the girl’s face, Maddie said, “Emma, things are bad here in the city, and it is going to get worse when it gets dark. We have to go. We have to run as fast as we can and get as far from the city as possible.”

  Emma looked up and over her shoulder. She nodded her head.

  After wiping her nose on the sleeve of her shirt, Emma took a deep breath.

  “You ready?”

  “Yes,” Emma said, her voice quivering still.

  The two girls ran for their lives.

  They ran between stalled cars and around the hordes of people blocking the sidewalks. Maddie wanted to put as much distance as she could between them and the crowded city, but it was slow going. It was harder than the start of a marathon. At least with a marathon, runners eventually spread out and she could break away from the pack. Here, people were slowly walking along or just loitering on the sidewalks.

  Although she tried running in the middle of the road, the numerous stalled and wrecked vehicles made even that strategy fruitless. After sidestepping a family walking four abreast on the sidewalk, they wound their way through a maze of cars blocking an intersection. Stepping back onto the sidewalk, she heard a group of young men catcalling her from the door of the shop behind them.

  “Hey, baby, why don’t you come over here, and we can go party?”

  “Yeah, we’d love to show you a good time,” said a man wearing a large gold chain around his neck and baggy jeans hanging below his butt.

  Maddie looked down. Emma looked up, her face impassive. Maddie looked back at the men. She wasn’t too worried about the baggy jeans guy. If he tried to chase her, he would no doubt trip as his baggy pants fell around his ankles. She had seen that happen many times on the police shows. Live PD was one of her favorites. She thought her mom secretly had a crush on the officer from the Tulsa Gang Unit. She had to admit he was cute, for an old guy. Much better looking than her step-dad, Jason.

  A crowd had gathered at the next corner blocking the sidewalk and southbound lanes of traffic. When Maddie got close, she and Emma crossed over and ran south in the northbound lane. Although she gave it all her little ten-year-old legs could handle, Emma was beginning to tire. It was taking Maddie more effort to pull her along. She did not dare release the girl's hand. She would likely slow and be swallowed by the crowd.

  As they approached the intersection, Maddie could see what had drawn the group. Two men were on the ground playing tug-of-war with a case of beer—no doubt looted from the liquor store on the corner.

  Slowing, Maddie stared at the fight as they passed them. Feeling a tug on her backpack, she swung around. One of the men who had been catcalling her had grabbed her by the pack. Luckily, he did not have a firm grasp. As she turned, he lost his grip on her. She shoved him and he fell backward.

  “Back off, creeper,” Maddie yelled.

  Maddie grabbed Emma by the arm and shuffled through the throng of people. Immediately after they emerged from the crowd, they took off running as fast as Emma could go.

  Maddie took a chance and looked over her shoulder, just as Emma tripped over a trash can in the middle of the sidewalk and tumbled to the ground. Quickly grabbing her up, Maddie took off again, but the delay was enough for two other men to gain on the girls.

  Maddie and Emma ran around a group of people on the sidewalk, jumped the curb, and ran across a four-lane street. Maddie looked behind her as she rounded the corner of a shop. She no longer saw the men.

  Behind the store was a long parking lot that spanned the length of a row of shops. A tall wooden privacy fence separated the stores from the apartment building behind it. In the back of the lot, pushed up next to the fence, sat two large green trash dumpsters. Maddie shoved Emma behind them and then slid in beside her. Emma scooted back and sat in the corner with her back against the wooden fence. The space was cramped, and her knees touched her chest.

  “I saw them run back here,” a male voice said.

  “Well, they ain’t here now.”

  “They have to be here somewhere. I doubt that little one could jump the fence. Check the back doors. Maybe they went inside.”

  Maddie heard the doors rattle and then a thud. They had kicked the door. She peeked out from between the two dumpsters. The two men were still searching the parking lot.

  From her place in the corner, she could see along the length of the fence and part of the side street. The men paced back and forth. As they approached the end of the building farthest from her, Maddie let out the breath she had been holding. The men stopped at the driveway entrance on the side street. Staring at something in the distance, the taller of the two put his arm out, pushing his companion back into the parking lot. The two men pressed their shoulders into the wooden fence. The taller one peered around the end post toward whatever had caught their interest.

  As the men’s attention was diverted to other things, Maddie seized the chance to slip out from behind the dumpster. She tugged on Emma’s arm, but the girl refused to budge. Maddie crawled to the end of the last dumpster and waved for Emma to join her. Shaking her head, Emma whimpered, burying her face in her knees.

  Maddie slid back in to rouse the girl from her spot. Emma moaned. Maddie turned to see if the men had heard her. She sat down next to Emma and placed an arm around her.

  Maddie looked around the back of the dumpster and saw the taller man jump out in front of a young woman. The second man stepped behind her. The tallest creeper grabbed the girl’s right arm and began dragging her into the parking lot. The girl screamed and kicked the man in the groin. He let go of her arm and the girl was able to take a few steps before the second man grabbed her by her long ponytail.

  Yanking back on her long locks, the man pulled her off balance and she fell backward onto the ground. He dragged her by her hair into a grassy area along the fence. The second man, having recovered enough to stand, reared back and kicked the girl in the ribs, causing her to double over and scream in pain.

  The men tore at the girl's clothes. Maddie sat frozen in place. Her heart pounded in her chest. She wanted to do something—anything. She needed to rescue this helpless girl, but she knew she could not overpower two strong men.

  She pressed her back against the dumpster. There was nothing she could do.

  If only I had my rifle. Or my knife or pepper spray or something. Anything.

  She placed her hands over her ears. She could not stand to listen to
the two men’s grunts. Her mind went blank. Time just stopped.

  She recalled the camping trip she had taken with her family to Cuivre River State Park when she was ten years old. She and her brother Zach had played hide and seek in the bushes along the campsite while their parents prepared dinner over the campfire. Zach startled her and she shot up, catching her hair in the brambles. It had taken her mother ten long agonizing minutes to untangle her long hair from the branches of the bush. Her dad had merely walked over, unsheathed his knife, and cut the branches. Maddie thought he had cut her hair.

  After her mother removed the final strands from the grip of the stickers, her father said, “That is why you should always wear your hair up—and in a hat—when you are out here. Just imagine if it had been a bad guy who had a hold of your hair and would not let go.”

  Picturing the girl being dragged by her hair, Maddie reached up and felt the top of her head. Her hair was still in its tight bun. Any loose strands were tucked under her headband just the way she always wore it. She hoped that it was sufficient for the apocalypse.

  Gazing over to Emma’s long hair, Maddie took two hair ties from her pack. She gently wrapped Emma’s hair into a ponytail. She twirled it around her hand, wrapping it into a bun before slipping a hair tie around it. Giving it a gentle tug, Maddie wrapped the second tie securing it. She poked wayward curls into the bun. Emma looked up at Maddie, her eyes full of tears. Maddie embraced her, rocking her side to side.

  The girl’s screams had stopped. Maddie no longer heard the two men talking. She checked her watch. It was nearly five o’clock. They had been sitting behind the dumpsters for hours. There was only about an hour before the sun went down and the real crazies came out to play. At least that was what her father said would happen, and his predictions had been dead-on so far.

  After sliding to the end, Maddie peeked out from behind the dumpster.

  Maddie gasped. She placed a hand over her mouth to stifle her sobs as she looked where the young woman lay, naked and bloody.

  Finally regaining her composure, Maddie looked around for the two men. Not seeing or hearing them, she inched out of her hiding place and stood. She waved for Emma to follow. This time, Emma complied.

  Maddie sucked in a breath at the sight of all the blood. She took a step forward, intending to help the girl, but there was so much blood the girl was most likely gone or soon would be. She took tentative steps over to the young woman, bent down, and wiped a strand of hair from her eyes.

  “I’m so sorry that I could not help you,” Maddie said, removing a bandana from her side pouch and placing it over the girl's naked midsection.

  A loud crash and the sound of breaking glass startled her. It had only been twenty-four hours and people were this violent. As more and more people figured out that they could do anything without fear of prison, Maddie knew it would become increasingly more dangerous to be on the streets. She needed a new route—one away from the commercial district and the looters.

  Maddie looked up and down the side street. She couldn’t be sure where the girl’s killers had gone, but it was time to go. She needed to get Emma away from the city. Emma was her responsibility now, and she was not going to let her down.

  Chapter 9

  FEMA HEADQUARTERS

  Federal Building

  Chicago, Illinois

  Event + 1 day

  After spending the night on the lumpy sofa in his office, Director Aims opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He had just drifted off to sleep when a knock on his door stirred him.

  “Come in,” Aims barked.

  The red-faced courier handed Director Aims an envelope and rushed back out of the office. Aims focused on the envelope and managed to rip the top flap open in a few seconds. He reached in and pulled out a handwritten report.

  The Surge Capacity Force members are currently being inserted into the Rapid Response teams. The Illinois National Guard has mobilized to their assigned coordinates and has already begun securing the points of entry to the city. The Chicago Emergency Management reports that their officers encountered resistance from several large groups which appear to be part of protests in progress before the EMP. Those groups are now stranded near the airport. Passengers from O’Hare International have flooded the streets.

  After a night of looting and rioting, many businesses near the airport are on fire. The Stone Park police station was set on fire as well. The police departments have begun moving the crowds off the streets in that area block by block. The immediate area surrounding your facility on Clark Street has been secured.

  As the Guard troops encounter people trying to enter the city, they have been directing them to the Disaster Recovery Centers at the church in Manteno. The DRC’s have opened all but nine of the pre-positioned centers around the city. As soon as sufficient personnel to operate those centers have been located, they will be operational as well.

  Incident Management teams and Logistics have implemented their orders. However, just like the recovery centers, locating staff members has proven more challenging than anticipated. With the lack of satellite communications, teams have been forced to go to each office to pick up personnel and transport them to work. This has put a strain on our transportation capabilities, but we anticipate a ninety percent solution once workers are transported to their duty stations. everything will run as planned.

  Illinois Emergency Management (IEMA) has requested additional transportation support to facilitate movement of Emergency Support Function Annex Six NGO and Red Cross volunteers.

  William Krauss,

  Logistics Manager,

  FEMA

  Aims folded the memo and placed it on his desk. After pulling a note pad from his desk drawer, he removed a pen from his shirt pocket. He sighed. Life without computers and cell phones made everyday mundane tasks a chore. What used to take seconds now took hours. His handwritten orders had to be given to couriers who would hand-deliver them to his teams in the field.

  He took a deep breath and wrote his response.

  Keep me updated on Chicago PD’s progress. Go ahead and provide IEMA with available transportation after major objectives have been met and priority locations are secured. I want a status report on the number of Guard troops and disaster agency volunteers that are unaccounted for as soon as a roster can be made.

  After struggling to slide the memo into an interoffice manila envelope, Aims stood and opened his door. He motioned for his secretary and held out the envelope.

  “The Administrator just sent word that he wants to see you in his office in twenty minutes,” the woman said.

  “Any word from Washington?” he asked.

  “Not that I am aware of, sir.”

  Aims stretched and rolled his shoulders. He walked down the hall and entered the men’s room. Looking at himself in the mirror, he noticed the dark circles under his eyes. After washing his face, he tucked in his shirt and straightened his tie. Running a finger over his teeth, he lamented that he didn’t keep an overnight kit in his desk anymore. He hadn’t needed it since his promotion to director.

  Administrator Harding did not look like he’d slept any better than Aims had, even though he also had a sofa in his office. Aims looked over at the papers strewn about the floor and covering the sofa cushions. It confirmed his suspicion that the administrator had not slept either.

  “What do you have to report on securing the city?” Harding asked, looking up from the mound of papers on his desk.

  He stood up and poured a glass of water, handing it to Aims.

  After taking a sip from the glass, Aims gave him a summary of the situation report he had received from Krauss. When he finished, Harding said nothing. An awkward silence hung between them. Aims debated if he should ask Harding if he had heard anything from Washington or the other regions, but Harding was deep in thought

  Breaking the silence, the Harding said, “We’ve been unable to communicate with Washington. There are rumors that D.C. was hit directly by o
ne of the missiles. It is only an unconfirmed report at the moment, so keep that to yourself. I've sent word to Indiana to dispatch a team to D.C. to confirm the status of the Capitol and secure any new orders from the White House. Until then, we continue operating under the Emergency Orders.”

  Harding leaned forward and placed his elbows on his desk. He ran his hand across his stubbled face. Although his skin complexion obscured any dark circles, Aims could see prominent bags forming under Harding’s brown eyes.

  “My staff is anxious to get moved out of the city. As you can imagine, they are concerned for their families,” Aims said.

  “I’m sure they are, but we have a crisis to handle here. We’ll move as soon as we get the all clear from the security teams,” Harding said.

  Aims said nothing.

  Harding was quiet a moment before clearing his throat. He stood and pulled a binder from the shelf beside his desk. The EMP had turned the clock back to the 1800s. Paper copies were all they had to go by now. He placed the binder on the desk and opened it. He thumbed through tabs until he found the section he’d been searching for. With an index finger, he pointed to the heading at the top of the page.

  “If we receive news that D.C. is gone, we are required to implement the continuity and recovery plans.”

  Harding’s expression was grim. The binder held the continuity plan that no one ever wanted to have to implement. The one that meant the cavalry was never coming to the rescue, that they were on their own and soon the streets would resemble the wild, wild west.

  “That would make you the head of the region. How do you think the governors are going to react?” Aims asked.

  “Some will resist while others will be relieved to have someone to blame when their residents start complaining about the slow recovery.”

  Aims locked eyes with Harding.

  “Slow recovery. That is an understatement, don't you think?”