Survival EMP Box Set | Books 1-4

by Lopez, Rob

  Rick waved Josh forward and indicated with pointing fingers that Josh should cover him while he crossed. The first glimmer of doubt showed in Josh’s eyes as it was clear they weren’t hunting squirrels now. Rick repeated his gestures to make it obvious what he wanted Josh to do, and he silently mouthed one command: “No hesitation.”

  Josh gazed at him for a moment, aware of what he was potentially being asked to do – if anything went wrong, he was to shoot to kill. It was a big responsibility, but Rick needed to know he could do it.

  Or at least to think he could do it. Shooting someone in self-defense, in the heat of the moment, was one thing. Coolly shooting someone dead from a safe, hidden position – well, that was something else. Rick needed to know that Josh had his back. And Josh needed to know the life-or-death importance of his role. For a moment, Rick saw him as he always remembered – the young boy with the quizzical look who’d gaze at his father whenever he returned from operations, wondering who this man was and how much he’d changed this time, and whether he was still his pa.

  Josh blinked and nodded, slipping the safety off his rifle, and it was Rick’s turn to wonder who his son was, and what exactly had changed. Neither boy nor man, but quite possibly a completely new personality. Rick wasn’t sure whether to mourn or be proud.

  Shaking off his thoughts, he attended to the job in hand, switching the selector to auto fire on his own rifle. With a last check to make sure Josh was ready, Rick left the shadows and dashed across the open gap.

  Snow had drifted in through the broken windows and open door, showing that the vandalism predated the night before. Footprints dragged through the snow in the hall, depositing it in clumps at the entrance to the living room. Rick listened carefully, but there were no voices, no coughing, no heavy footfalls on the floor. Treading carefully, he sneaked down the hall, glancing into the various rooms. It was as cold inside as it was outside. There was no smell of a wood fire or cooked food. Not even the musty odor of a lived-in home. Whatever joy or life the house had once held had vanished, leaving just a sterile monument to Man’s attempt to create a little piece of order within the chaos.

  Catching sight of a foot sticking out from behind a couch, Rick moved into the living room. When he saw the body, he lowered his rifle. Whatever had been here had long since ceased to be a threat.

  The body of a man was clothed in several layers, with a thin blanket frozen to his shoulders. The shoes were worn out, the soles held on with duct tape. A straggly beard framed a withered, emaciated face. Even with its eyes closed, the face looked weary and defeated. There was nothing relaxed about the body, however. Stiff with rigor mortis, it lay on its side with its arms stretched out in a curved embrace. Whatever it was embracing had gone, and the body remained as a mute elegy to loneliness and the desire to connect to some other soul.

  Rick raised his rifle again, aware that there had been another person here. Two refugees had entered the house and, too tired even to search for extra blankets, had lain down together, hugging each other for warmth. One of them had died and the other had woken in the rigid grip of a corpse. Rick wondered how surprised or horrified they would have been. Maybe that person was so tired, and had experienced so many horrors already, that it was simply another marker in a downward spiral. Or maybe they’d freaked out as they realized they were caught in a death grip. One way or the other, they’d extricated themselves and gotten away. Rick went to the open back door and saw the single line of prints in the snow as the remaining survivor stumbled on. The breaking of the crisped snow indicated that it wasn’t that long ago. There was a good chance they hadn’t gotten far.

  Going back to the front door, Rick waved Josh over. Aping his father, Josh ran over, crouching like he was in a combat zone. He was about to enter the house when Rick stopped him. “You don’t want to go in there,” he said grimly.

  “Why not?” asked Josh, his tone hard and skeptical.

  Rick thought about why not, then realized he was being overprotective. It was instinctive, but pointless now. There was no telling what horrors or revelations lay ahead, all of which could paralyze a naive person. Naivety was an enemy now – an encumbrance that threatened survival. It was a luxury they could no longer afford, and he had no right to impose it.

  “Okay,” conceded Rick. “Take a look.”

  Josh went inside and gazed dispassionately at the body. “Why’s he in that position?” he asked.

  “Because he wasn’t alone,” said Rick. “Come on. The tracks go out back. Let’s see if we can find the other person. We might be able to help them.”

  “Why?” said Josh.

  Rick studied his son, trying to parse the meaning of this new cold-blooded personality he saw. Clearly the pendulum of self-interest and ruthlessness had swung too far the other way. “Because it makes you less of an asshole, that’s why,” he replied.

  “Why does that matter?” asked Josh defiantly.

  Rick, in the process of turning away, froze and glanced back at his son. “It matters now more than it ever did. How long do you think you’re going to survive if you don’t give a damn about anybody else?”

  “I can hunt,” said Josh. “I can feed myself.”

  “Yeah? And what if you get sick? Or wounded? Nobody’s tough enough or smart enough to manage completely on their own. We’re humans, not gods.”

  “Does that mean you too?”

  Rick held his gaze for a moment. “Yeah, it means me too. I’m not perfect, and I’d be a fool if I thought I was. Don’t be that fool – not ever – because nature’s got a way of teaching fools a hard lesson. Especially now.”

  Leaving the house, they tracked the fresh prints for an hour before they encountered a dog tearing at something on the sidewalk. The dog growled at them then, seeing it was outnumbered, skittered away with a piece of meat in its jaws. Rick and Josh approached the body it had been eating. It was another man, and the tracks ended at his feet. There was no sign of a struggle, which probably meant he hadn’t been killed by the dog. It was likely he just dropped dead from hunger and exhaustion, and the dog had come along after. Perhaps it had been following him, waiting for the inevitable. A piece of flesh had been torn from the man’s shoulder, fresh blood seeping weakly onto the snow. Rick checked his pulse nevertheless. It was a vain hope. The skin was stone cold.

  “Was he a fool?” asked Josh.

  Rick wasn’t sure whether his son was teasing him or not, but he was aware that this whole teaching morality thing was getting complicated. “He was unlucky,” he concluded, not particularly caring where that fell in the spectrum of behavior, “and you’re over-thinking it, so give me a break. Let’s head back.”

  Rick altered his return route, conscious of the obvious tracks he was leaving. If they didn’t get more snow soon, the path to the clubhouse could be followed by anyone. After a futile attempt to cover the tracks, Rick walked a zigzag through the suburbs, trying to make more work for a tracker. By the time he reached the edge of the golf course, he was hungry and tired.

  Before then, however, he could already hear the sound of laughter.

  Coming into view of the clubhouse, he saw Scott and Daniel coursing down a slope on an improvised sled. Lauren and April stood on the terrace, watching. In the background, the whining growl of the chainsaw echoed. The rooftop outpost was unmanned.

  The sled hit an unseen bump, sending Scott and Daniel tumbling. Scott pulled Daniel out of a drift and wiped the snow off his face, laughing. Daniel’s features were aglow with joy.

  “What’s going on?” said Rick as he approached. He felt like Moses coming down from the mountain to find the Israelites partying.

  “What does it look like?” said Scott, looking up at him.

  “What do you think?” said Rick sternly.

  “Just a few minutes of fun, is all,” said Scott, unabashed. “You should try it.”

  “That so?”

  Scott gave him a thoughtful look. “I’m of the opinion that you should. You’v
e been pushing yourself hard, lately. You’re looking tired. And you know that ain’t good. Blunts your edge.” Scott scratched his cheek. “We’ve built something good here, Rick. Place is as fortified as it’s going to get. We got supplies to last us through the winter.” He cocked his head as he weighed up that statement for a moment. “Mostly. Either way, we’ve done everything we can.”

  “Everything we’ve got here can be destroyed in a day,” said Rick flatly.

  Scott conceded that with a nod. “That’s true for just about everything, though. All the more reason to enjoy it while you can. Otherwise there’s no point doing it.”

  “The point is to stay alive,” said Rick. Turning away he ascended the slope to the clubhouse.

  “Yeah, but you’ve also got to live,” called Scott after him.

  Rick didn’t bother to reply. Passing through the gap in the barbed wire, he walked up to Lauren and April.

  “Has Packy been here yet?” he asked curtly.

  “No,” said Lauren. “Is he due?”

  “He is, and he’s late. Need to make a list of what we need. Are you okay for sanitary napkins and stuff?”

  “I could do with some more,” said Lauren.

  “I’m good,” said April.

  “I’ll be out front if you need anything,” said Rick. Turning to Lauren, he added, “I need you up in the OP. Shouldn’t be unmanned.”

  And with that, he walked away.

  *

  Lauren and April exchanged a glance, eyebrows raised.

  “He’s in a good mood,” quipped April.

  Lauren accosted Josh, who was walking by. “Did anything happen out there?”

  Josh was nonplussed. “Not really.”

  Lauren looked suspiciously at her son. In spite of his affected nonchalance, she detected evasiveness, like he was being asked about missing cookies from the jar. “What did you find out there?” she demanded.

  “Nothing. Just some bodies. No big deal.”

  Josh sloped off, ending the interrogation.

  “Did you hear that?” exclaimed Lauren to April. “Dead bodies are no big deal now.”

  “Sign of the times?” offered April.

  “I don’t know,” said Lauren, watching Josh walk away. “He’s just getting a little too …” She searched for the right word, “ …blasé.”

  “He’s a teen.”

  “Sure, but he’s trying too hard to be like his dad.”

  “Thought that was what you wanted?”

  “Yes and no. I’m kind of worried about both of them, to be honest. They’re turning into two grumpy guys. I mean, we’ve already got Sally the Grinch. We don’t need any more.”

  “She’ll turn out okay. She’s still got some way to go, but … she’ll be useful.”

  Lauren turned to her. “You’ve changed your tune. You said she was a goddamn bitch who needed to get the corn cob out of her ass.”

  April grimaced. “I might have been a little too harsh.”

  “You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t. Anyway, what was that thing about not needing sanitary napkins? You had to borrow a couple of mine last time. How come you suddenly don’t need none?”

  April gazed out over the snowscape. “I’m ten days late on my period.”

  “Ahh,” said Lauren. “Could be stress.”

  “It ain’t stress,” said April apprehensively. “I think I’m pregnant.”

  Lauren sucked in her breath. “Are you sure?”

  “No, I ain’t sure, but what do you think? I know the changes. I can feel them.”

  “But you’re not certain?”

  “How the hell can I be? Sure ain’t gonna scare your husband by asking him if he can get a pregnancy test from Packy, That’s if the nut even knows what one looks like.”

  Lauren fell silent for a moment. “I’ve got a tester you can use. Been saving it in case … well, you know.”

  “Oh man,” said April, shaking her head ruefully, “if I’m pregnant …”

  “Hey!” admonished Lauren. “It could be a good thing.”

  “Or it could kind of complicate things.”

  Lauren bit her lip. This was exactly the kind of thing she’d been afraid of herself. “Have you told Scott yet?”

  “Are you kidding me? We’ve got a good thing going now. I don’t want anything to get in the way of that.”

  “What makes you think he’s going to be negative about it?”

  “I don’t know. He’s a guy. What do you think? Hell, the only thing I know that’ll make a guy break the world speed record is the phrase, 'Honey, I think I’m pregnant’.”

  Lauren smiled, in spite of herself. Nodding toward Scott, she said, “Take a good look. Does that look like the kind of guy who’s afraid of children?”

  Lauren and April both watched as Scott played with Daniel, the laughter drifting back across the barrier.

  April sighed. “He’s a good guy. I know it. But this …”

  “This is what it is,” said Lauren. “And for the record, I think Scott will be fine.”

  April gazed out, pained. “I’m scared Lauren. I’m worried about how he’ll take it, and I’m worried about being pregnant. The idea of giving birth? Out here? It terrifies me. Ain’t no ER you can rush me to now. Ain’t no anesthesia. No team of experts if there’s complications. It’s like … as nature intended, and it scares the shit out of me.”

  Lauren gripped her friend’s arm, giving it a squeeze. “Don’t go thinking about stuff like that. We’re all here for you. And … well, I can see now why you want to be nice about Sally. She is kind of ornery, but she’s got to know her stuff. And women have been giving birth, like, forever. Don’t focus on it, don’t worry about it.” Lauren took a breath. “First thing we gotta do is test to be sure. And after that … we take it step by step.”

  33

  Dee no longer knew what was real and what was not. When she passed a pale arm sticking out of the snow, she thought it was a dream.

  The raider group had ceased to be a group. Nobody talked. They just happened to trudge in the same direction. There was no order or discipline to the march. Dee frequently found herself alone and unguarded, but she made no attempt to flee or get away. She lacked the will. Sleepwalking through the nightmare, it seemed impossible that there was anyplace better to be. Like everyone else, she followed the food wagon.

  It was only worth becoming animated when the food was distributed. Failure to do so threatened starvation. One day, upon putting her food down and attending to her baby, she turned to find the food had been stolen. It was impossible to tell who had taken it – there wasn’t a guilty face in the group – but after that, Dee learned to eat her food fast. She no longer trusted anyone, and complaining did no good. At night, it was necessary to grip her blanket tight, wrapping it around herself, in case that was taken too. If there was room in a tent, she had to get into a corner and position herself with a new determination. Anyone too close to the entrance was liable to be rolled out in favor of someone else. Survival meant looking out for yourself and being unapologetic about it. Anybody who died of exposure in the night was left where they lay. The group shrank as faces disappeared, and swelled again as new people joined, seemingly from nowhere, tagging along until they had proved themselves worthy of getting food. The settlements they found got smaller and smaller, and most didn’t put up a fight when the raiders arrived on their doorstep. They simply left as ordered, or followed the group in the hope of getting a fraction of their stolen food back. The hunger and cold sapped everyone’s will to resist.

  Dee drifted past another body in the snow. It occurred to her that maybe this wasn’t normal, but that thought was buried beneath a mountain of disinterest. They were passing through trees, and Dee was dimly aware of tarps hung from branches, and collapsed tents. There were more bodies, huddled into balls. Some had been torn open, spines and ribs exposed. The long faces of dogs appeared fleetingly through the trees, cruel eyes focused on the group passing through. A single sho
t caused them to stiffen momentarily, ready to run, but they were no longer afraid, and soon resumed their unblinking gaze.

  A fence with numerous holes loomed ahead, and after passing through they found themselves in a yard by a warehouse building, with a water tower behind. On the side of the building was a sign: FEMA Camp 47. On a patch of waste ground by an empty parking lot, a pile of naked bodies awaited burial in a grave that never got dug. Apart from the dogs, the place was devoid of life. Burned stubs of timber poked from the snow. Cooking pots lay discarded. The group faltered and scattered, desperate fingers digging for anything edible that might have been left, but it was a futile search.

  Attention quickly turned to the dogs, and several rifles cracked. A dog went down, and this time the others showed their fear and ran away, chased by badly aimed shots.

  “Get a fire going,” called Axel.

  The raiders stood around, numb, dumb looks on their faces. Some looked toward the trees, gloomily contemplating the effort required to cut down wood. “What are you all waiting for?” shouted Boss.

  Moving angrily among the group, he was the only one who seemed to have energy. Propelled by a constant, seething resentment, he appeared tireless. Dee found his presence a continual irritation, as if his absence would allow her to finally sink down and rest. In her dream state, she watched him like a fish watching a circling shark.

  “You see these parasites, here?” Boss said to the idle raiders, pointing at the frozen bodies nearby. “They were just waiting, too. Looking to be spoon fed. Is that what you want?” he yelled. His voice rose to a maniacal pitch. “Do you want to end up like these losers? These dumb animals? They’re dog food. Wake up!”

  Regarding him with hollow eyes, the raiders started to move. Boss stomped around like a petulant child. Suddenly he halted, looking straight at Dee. For a moment it looked like he was trying to remember who she was, recognition taking its time to dawn on his flushed face. Then he was gone.