Survival EMP Box Set | Books 1-4

by Lopez, Rob

  Scattered about the roof were spent cartridges, Nearby, tangled up in clothing, lay a skeleton. Somebody had made a last stand here.

  Packy held up a brass case. “Don’t worry about that. Look at this. Perfect condition. If I can find someone to reload these, I can get a little industry going. And look what else I found.” He opened up his bag and pulled out bars of soap, disposable lighters and gold chains. “This is valuable currency,” he said.

  “Finding food would be better, Packy.”

  Packy dismissed her assertion. “You let other people do that, then you trade with them. You need to look for things that people don’t think about, because that’s the only stuff that’s left. All the obvious things are gone.”

  “I’ll remind you of that tonight when you’re feeling hungry. Maybe you can eat the soap.”

  Packy shook his head sadly. “You have no faith in free trade.”

  *

  Rick and Scott were walking the bluff high above the road when they witnessed the four vehicles returning to Round Knob. Rick noted the three female prisoners in the rear vehicle.

  “That brings the total number of raiders to over thirty,” said Scott. “And that’s just the ones we’ve seen.”

  “They’re confident,” said Rick, seeing how they were driving.

  “They can afford to be. And they got time to bring in entertainment, too. Once they find us, you know who they’re going to prioritize for capture. And who gets a bullet.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “We need to move on. This ain’t a good place to be. Let’s get deeper into the mountains, maybe up to the Blue Ridge Parkway. There’s bound to be some old cabin or abandoned mill we can settle in, away from everywhere.”

  Rick looked at him. “The Blue Ridge Parkway?”

  “Or thereabouts. Anywhere closer to Mount Mitchell. Nobody lives up there.”

  “And for good reason. That road gets blocked by snow and ice every winter, and sometimes as early as late fall. Even the animals go down into the valleys in the winter. If we don’t freeze, we’ll starve to death. That your idea of a good time?”

  “Just saying, because if we stay here, it’s full-on war.”

  “Scott, you’ve been in more wars than I can count.”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t have a baby coming then.”

  11

  The fire burned low in the pit. They’d boiled their water for the evening and the next day, and cooked vegetables to go with the last of the dried meat they had. Rick sat and stared at the flames, absently scratching lines in the dirt with a stick. Footsteps shuffled in the nearby trailers as the others prepared their bedding for the night. Lizzy came out of the trailer with a blanket over her shoulders that trailed along the ground.

  “Good night, Daddy,” she said, giving him a hug.

  Rick kissed her without much feeling, still staring at the fire. From the next trailer, he heard Scott’s low voice as he recited a bedtime story to Daniel. Lizzy disappeared and was replaced by Lauren, who gazed down at her husband.

  “Staring at the flames ruins your night vision,” she said.

  “Uh huh.”

  Lauren settled down next to him. “What are you thinking?”

  “Zero sum game,” he said.

  “Sounds deep.”

  “These mountains aren’t big enough for all of us. There’s only so much to go around. At some point we’re going to have to fight for territory and take it from someone else.”

  Lauren looked at him for a moment. “Deeper than I thought. You really think it’s come to that?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, uh, what territory are you thinking of conquering first?”

  “That’s just it. We don’t have the capability to conquer anything.”

  “That’s good. For a minute there, I thought you were going to turn into Attila the Hun.”

  “How long do you think we’re going to last, sitting on the defensive?”

  “We did okay last time.”

  “Sure. Trouble is, we’ve got to get lucky every time. Whoever hits us only has to get lucky once. Then we’re done.”

  Lauren was silent for a while. “So what are you thinking of doing?”

  “I don’t know. Just thinking.”

  “Well, don’t think anything crazy, okay?”

  “I see you’re siding with Scott, then.”

  “Why, what did he say?”

  “Pretty much the same as you.”

  “Could be a valid point then.”

  “Oh sure, and it’s noted. Trouble is, I’m getting a lot of cautions and no solutions. What do you think we should do?”

  Lauren sucked in her lip. “Stay cautious?”

  Rick drove his stick into the ground, snapping it. “I wasn’t trained to be cautious. I was trained to win, and the only way to win is to take the fight to the enemy. You don’t wait for them to make the next move.”

  “Scott was trained that way too, but clearly he’s got his doubts.”

  Rick picked up the pieces of his stick. “Scott’s changing.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  “Believe it. He’s losing his hardness.”

  Lauren squeezed her husband’s arm. “That’s not always a bad thing.”

  “It is in combat. Gets you killed.”

  Lauren rolled her eyes. “Come on. This isn’t Syria.”

  “No,” said Rick. “It’s worse.”

  “I wasn’t in Syria, so I can’t compare. But so far, this is pretty good.”

  Rick gazed at his wife, and she gazed back, sticking her tongue out.

  “Someone’s got to be positive,” she said.

  A voice called out from the edge of the camp. “Hey, it’s me. Don’t shoot.”

  Chuck, on guard, replied: “Packy, what the hell are you doing out?”

  Packy came into the clearing, his hands full. “Doing my thing,” he said.

  Rick rose from his position. “What have you got there?”

  Packy carried three rabbits in one hand and a bag in the other. “Got supper,” he said. He looked to the embers of the fire. “You could have waited.”

  “Didn’t know you were going to be out getting anything. Where have you been?”

  “Visiting the good people of Old Fort in their hobo shacks. You know, they’ve got a lot of good stuff hidden away. Got other camps with women, too. And bees.”

  “Bees?”

  “Yeah, bee hives.” Packy’s bag clinked when he dropped it on the ground. He pulled out a jar. “Honey. Organic and pure,” he assured.

  Rick inspected what he’d brought. “How’d you get all this?”

  “Traded it.”

  “What with?”

  “Ahhh, I gave them one of the old rifles.”

  “You gave them one of our rifles?” said Rick, annoyed.

  “Sure. It was surplus. I mean, I got a bunch of them in the back of my truck. We can’t use them all.”

  “Packy,” said Lauren, “you don’t want to be giving away our stuff. That’s community property.”

  “And I am a member of this prestigious community, and I played my part in making sure we had those rifles. Plus, I figured you guys owed me for the ammunition you used up in that last fight, and I didn’t want to bill you or nothing, so I thought I’d be generous and use my cut to leverage something for you all. For the community.”

  “Don’t do that again,” said Rick firmly.

  “You don’t mean that. And you’re welcome, by the way.”

  “I mean it.”

  Packy dangled the rabbits in front of Rick’s face. “Fresh meat,” he said. “Now imagine what these babies are going to taste like when they’re fried. Give them a honey glaze, some herbs – I got some of those too – and waffles.”

  “You got waffles?” said Rick.

  “No, but I wanted to see the look on your face when I said that. Wouldn’t that be awesome? That’d be a breakfast to die for.”

  “Dying will be the leas
t of your problems if you go giving stuff away without my permission.”

  Packy waved away his concerns. “I know you’ve got to do the whole tough-guy act, and I’ll pretend to be affected. You know. I’m contrite. But dude, you’ve got to see what they’ve got up there. There’s even a cave. And for a gold necklace, I got one of the nice ladies there to cook me lunch and sew up my shirt.” He lifted his arm to show the repair. “That was bothering me some because it’s very important to keep up my appearance. I mean, who’s going to take me seriously otherwise?”

  “Nobody.”

  “Exactly.”

  “And it’s still nobody.”

  Packy wagged a finger. “We’ll see. Tomorrow I’m going to drive into Marion and barter some of this honey, and the first link in the trading chain will be formed. You should come with me. You could learn something.”

  Rick stared at Packy for a long time. “I could learn something,” he repeated skeptically.

  “That’s right. Come on, man. What have you got to lose other than your corncob?”

  12

  The four horsemen rode slowly through the morning mist that rose from the French Broad River. At the top of sloping terraces stood the grand chateau of Biltmore house, its spires framed against the backdrop of Beaucatcher Mountain and the Blue Ridge range. Major Connors stood on his stirrups to survey what he could see of the six thousand acres of woodland and gardens that sat on the edge of Asheville.

  “Anybody live here?” he asked.

  Corporal Parson, who’d been trudging behind on foot for the entire four mile tour, shook his head wearily. “Not that I know of. Been patrolling the area to try and keep the looters away, but we’ve been focusing our efforts on the vineyard and the farm to protect the crops and livestock.”

  “Okay,” said Connors with a nod of approval. “This will be our headquarters. We’ll house the militia here and have my guys set up a gun range and training area. The river’s close by for transport.”

  Parson removed his helmet to wipe the sweat on his brow. “It’s privately owned,” he said.

  “Not anymore. I hereby confiscate this land for the Carolina Militia for the duration of the emergency. I’ll get the governor to sign an order to that effect. Have the tractor bring our stores down here.”

  “What about the rest of your people?”

  “They can go someplace else. Have the Housing Committee sort them out.”

  “We have a Housing Committee?”

  “There’ll be one set up soon. Report to the governor and tell him what I’ve just told you. I’m also promoting you to company commander. Pick three of your best men to serve as platoon leaders.”

  “We don’t have enough men to fill a platoon, never mind a company.”

  “We will. Report to me with your chosen platoon leaders at 16:00 hours. That will be all.”

  Parson was in no hurry to move, and he gazed up at Connors. “Is this all necessary? Running the place like a military camp?”

  Connors eyeballed him. “How do you suggest I run it, soldier?”

  Parson shrugged. “Just seems a little extreme. The people have survived a hard time, and I’m thinking it’s better to go easy on them. We’ve been running things okay. Why don’t you watch to see how things work before changing stuff?”

  Connors stroked his horse’s neck for a while. Eventually he said, “I appreciate your candor, soldier. Really, I do. But let me ask you a question. Do you really consider the current situation to be, as you put it, okay?”

  “I guess.”

  Connors showed disappointment. “See, it’s about standards, soldier. My standards are higher than yours. When I see people living like bums in a fine city like this, it makes me sad. When I see mothers carrying rifles as they walk their children to the food stations because they’re afraid someone’s going to rob them, I think to myself that something ain’t right. When the city’s split into dozens of little communities who have to lock their doors at night and mount their own security details, it’s a sign that all is not well. Life is not what you might call commodious, if you get my meaning.”

  “We’re doing the best we can, sir.”

  “Sure. And it could be better. Living without the fear that some yahoos from the hills are about to attack you would be a good start. Having everybody be more productive instead of leaving it to a dedicated few would be better. Bringing back some order and a sense of faith in the law gives people the freedom to move around with a little more ease. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  Parson thought about it. “I’m guessing maybe I would.”

  “Then you do exactly as I tell you. Our first job is to pacify the rowdier elements, and for that you need some discipline and some direction. I’m here to provide both.” Connors sat up in the saddle. “Now follow my orders and I’ll see you at the briefing this afternoon. Dismissed.”

  Parson gave him a casual salute and walked off.

  Leon, Taft and Fick watched him go with barely veiled contempt.

  “He’s going to be a problem,” said Fick, leaning indolently in the saddle.

  “Not necessarily,” said Connors. “He just isn’t used to good command.”

  “Goddamn part-time soldier.”

  “He’s still a soldier.”

  “Rear echelon mofo, that’s what he is. You think you’re going to be able to do anything with these people?”

  “I don’t think. I know.” Connors eyed his subordinate. “You’d do well to remember who’s in charge here.”

  Fick squinted into the sun like he hadn’t heard anything. Leon and Taft sat impassive, unconcerned with little dramas.

  Connors gazed at the chateau. “Don’t doubt me, boys,” he murmured. “We’re building a great enterprise here, and we’re going to do it right. There’ll be no petty bureaucracy to get in the way now.”

  “What about Rick Nolan?”

  Connors glared at Fick. “What about him?”

  “He got in your way last time.”

  Connors’ anger flickered a moment longer, then subsided. “I suspect he’s long gone by now,” he muttered.

  “And if he isn’t?”

  “Then we’ll deal with him,” snapped Connors.

  13

  “I can’t believe we’re going to risk our lives just to deliver honey,” said Scott at the wheel of the Blazer. I-40 was clear in both directions as it made its long climb around Marion.

  “We’re not just going to deliver it,” explained Packy, as if to a child. “I have samples. I’m going to gain their interest in what we have, negotiate some prices and see what they can offer in return. We seal the deal. Then we deliver the honey.”

  “They’re not going to give two shits about honey.”

  “Au contraire, my obnoxious friend. Honey is high in energy, easy to store long-term and is reputed to have medicinal properties. It also tastes damn good, and who doesn’t want great-tasting food in these times? Besides you, that is.”

  “Can’t believe you let this asshole talk you into this,” Scott said to Rick.

  Ignoring the conversation, Rick maintained his vigilance. “Stop,” he said suddenly.

  Scott, who’d been taking it easy, slowed the vehicle to a gentle halt. Rick leaned out and focused his binoculars on a distant bridge spanning the interstate.

  “That the one?” asked Scott.

  Rick observed two armed guards on the bridge. “That’s the one.”

  He got out of the vehicle, leaving his M4 inside. Packy got out too, checking the contents of his bag.

  “This the group Doug told you about?” Rick asked him.

  “I think so,” said Packy. “The Ashworth group, he called them.”

  Rick leaned in to talk to Scott. “Take the vehicle to that rest area we passed and stay hidden. We’ll come find you.”

  “I’ll give you till nightfall,” said Scott.

  Rick nodded. If he hadn’t made it back by then, it was probably because he couldn’t. The consequences
of that didn’t bear thinking about.

  Scott drove off and Rick turned to Packy. “You’d better be good at this.”

  “Have no fear,” assured Packy. “I’m the best I know.”

  “You don’t know anybody.”

  “That’s why I like to use that metric. I get to be unique.”

  Or delusional, thought Rick. “Just don’t get us killed.”

  It was a long walk. Halfway there, the guards on the bridge reacted to their presence. The shrill note of a whistle carried in the still air.

  “Time to get our calling card out,” said Packy.

  From his bag he pulled out a large white bed sheet. Taking an end each, Rick and Packy stretched it out, unfurling the sign that Packy had painted on it: We come to trade.

  It wasn’t the worst idea that Rick had ever seen, but it did make them an even bigger target. As he walked forward holding the sheet, he watched as other armed figures appeared, both on the bridge and in the trees by the exit ramp. Whistles continued to blow in the distance as word spread.

  They stopped before the bridge, all rifles aimed at them.

  “Who are you?” shouted a voice.

  “We are peaceful traders, sir,” called back Packy. “Bearers of bountiful goods, rare produce and choice delicacies.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  Packy sighed. “Education these days,” he muttered. Raising his voice, he shouted: “I got some good shit for you.”

  Rick wasn’t impressed with his sales technique so far. The Ashworth community, on the other hand, looked pretty organized as more rifles rapidly appeared. They were also unduly paranoid as earnest faces showed themselves and aimed all their weapons at just two guys. It was unnecessary overkill, and Rick guessed that they’d been attacked so many times that they were jumpy. Still, it showed a poor grasp of tactics, displaying themselves like that.

  “Have you seriously come to trade?” said the head guard.

  Packy nodded toward the sign. “Exactly what it says.”

  “What have you got to trade? Besides your lives, that is.”

  “Let us come up and I’ll show you.”

  “You wait right there. If you move I’ll blow your head off.”