How We Survive: EMP Survival in a Powerless World

by Stone, William

  “Anything you need is yours,” she said. “As always, we appreciate the help.”

  “Great!” he said, moving through the dark hallway toward the cabinet where he spotted the medicine. “We could really use anything you could spare.”

  “We can spare quite a lot,” she said. “It’s only the three of us, not like all of you in the compound.”

  “Good.” He stashed bottles of medicine away, then headed back to the door, opening it to a sliver and stealing a glimpse outside. “Are your kids doing okay?” he asked, not taking his gaze away from the sliver.

  “Yes, they’re just fine. They’re asleep right now, of course, but yes, they’re doing just fine,” she replied, her voice loaded with a little panic. “Were those men—those bad—after you? Is that why you’re being so cautious?”

  He turned, wondered if she could take the awful news, then decided she could. “They’ve taken over the compound, Jade.”

  She gasped. “My God!”

  “They don’t know I’m here. And I’m not sure how I’m going to get back without them knowing what happened.

  “Maybe you’re better off just staying here. That seems to me to be a lot safer than risking everything back there.”

  “No. It’s safer, but I have to go back. The place needs me.”

  “Well… good luck to you, but just understand that if you change your mind, we’re here. The food may have to be stretched a little, but we’re fine with that. We’re always ready to bring people in who need it.”

  He gave her shoulder a soft stroke, then turned back to the door, taking another peek out. “That’s good to hear, thank you.” It was hard to tell with nothing but moonlight illuminating the horizon, but it seemed his path back to the compound was clear. He said, “Take care, Jade,” then jetted outside, ducking low in the tall grass before he could hear her reply.

  He kept moving quickly and quietly, seeing and hearing nothing between him and the compound. Once there, he crept closer, paying particular attention to the guard by the fence.

  It was the same guy as before. He looked exhausted and not happy to still be on duty, but for the moment, he was wide awake. Hatfield was stuck, unable to find a way past him. Climbing the fence without being noticed wasn’t possible. It was too loud and too difficult to do without being seen. He’d need another way.

  In the distance, straight ahead and far to the guard’s other side, there was a tree that hung just over the fence. If there were any way he could get there without being spotted, he could probably climb it, then hop the fence and get inside the back door. But he’d need something to pull his attention away.

  Hatfield pulled out his gun, thought about firing into the air to distract him. But the idea seemed less clever the more he considered it. The guard would probably be able to tell roughly where the shot was coming from. He needed something that could serve the same purpose but without the tell-tale noise.

  A fist-sized rock bumping against his knee gave him the answer. He lifted the stone, aimed it for the compound roof near the front, far away from the tree hanging over the backyard, and threw it.

  The toss wasn’t a strike, but it was close enough. It tagged the roof with a clank and—as he’d hoped—yanked the guard’s attention toward the front of the compound. When the guy scrambled over to see what that sudden sound was, Hatfield raced toward the tree. He climbed it faster than he’d ever climbed anything and swung himself over the fence, landing with a muted thunk.

  From there, he sprinted to the back door, guessing it wouldn’t be locked because the gangbangers wouldn’t have bothered with the endless exchange of keys. He had guessed right. Hatfield slipped inside, then darted down a hallway into the bathroom, catching his breath.

  Now came the biggest challenge. Getting back to the bedroom without being seen or heard. This would be tricky because he wasn’t sure who was up and who was asleep. It didn’t seem possible that the entire gang could be asleep so soon after they’d sent everybody after the captain.

  Outside there were voices. They closed in quickly.

  With the violent swing of the door, a new face was revealed. It was Nathan, their leader, his face stern as usual. A few others stood behind him.

  Hatfield tried to stay calm, groping for words to explain his presence in the bathroom.

  But it turned out he didn’t need to. Nathan said, “Here he is, guys! I guess this is where he was all along.”

  Shrugging his shoulders, Hatfield said, “Where else did you think I was?”

  “Don’t worry about that. You just make sure you keep doing as you’re told. We’ll always have more work for you. And as for your wife and daughter… we’ll make sure they have plenty to do as well. And I don’t mean digging in the garden.”

  The rage ate at him. Nathan’s face suddenly looked like it needed a face buried in it. He got close to him and seethed, “What have you done to my family?”

  “Nothing. Yet. But the more trouble you cause, the more likely you are to push us in that direction,” he said, sending Hatfield’s rage back to him. “Is that understood?”

  No answer. It wasn’t easy to choke back his anger.

  Nathan asked again, his tone mocking. “Is that understood?”

  Hatfield held back his vitriol and nodded obediently, then watched the thugs march away.

  Without delay, he raced into the bedroom, finding Jess, Justin, and Tami asleep. But there was something about their body language—an uneasiness in their position, the way they tossed about—that suggested their sleep wasn’t restful.

  And he got no sleep at all.

  Instead, he stared at the ceiling all night, with his head invaded by way too many thoughts. Things were spiraling out of control. Hatfield found himself in a situation where it was his job to make everything right.

  The next morning, everyone woke up with faces dragging. Before getting out of the bed, Jess turned to her husband gingerly and asked, “Honey, did you hear about Cecil?”

  He nodded. “I was there right before he got captured.”

  They embraced without another word on the subject.

  As was becoming their custom, the gangbangers charged inside the room, loudly demanding the family get into the kitchen and get to work. When they stormed out, Hatfield gave everybody’s face a scan.

  They seemed nervous, but not their spirits hadn’t yet been broken. They were strong, and they had each other. It made him proud to know it took more than a little intimidation to break the will of the Hatfields.

  Still, he had concerns. “Has everybody been okay for the last few days?”

  No immediate reply, then Justin said, “Well… not really, but we’re still alive, right? I guess we should be grateful for that.”

  With a wry grin, he told his son, “You don’t look so grateful.”

  “I’m trying, Dad,” the kid answered. “We’re all trying.”

  He stroked Justin’s hair. “Look, guys. I’m in charge of this compound now, but I haven’t forgotten that my first duty is to you all, my family. What we’re going through is no picnic, but I promise you, one way or the other, it won’t last. Do you hear me?”

  Everyone nodded.

  “Right now, what I need from you is to show me how strong the Hatfields can be. And I promise you, we will be free.”

  The kids nodded again, this time with more spirit. But Jess tilted her head, unsure what her husband had in mind. He gave her a slow nod that said, Trust me. We will get out of this. She nodded back, her eyes still a little uncertain.

  Another series of angry pounds at the door startled everybody again. This jolted the family up and out into the kitchen, where they got to work right away.

  29

  The kitchen work that morning was even more grueling than the previous day. Today, they all seemed preoccupied with getting everything clean. It was clear that there was no real purpose to the work being tasked to the homesteaders. The work was assigned for the sake of cruelty. Nothing more.

 
; A gangbanger—the big, bearded one—waved Hatfield over to the stove. He pointed to it. “I want that spotless. You hear me?”

  “But it was just cleaned a few days ago,” he protested. “It doesn’t need cleaning.”

  The guy sent razor-sharp eyes to him, then took off his left boot, reached it inside the oven, and banged it against the sides until all the caked-in mud tumbled to the oven floor. He casually slipped the boot back onto his foot and said, “Looks like it needs cleaning to me.”

  Hatfield swallowed hard, struggling once again to keep his rage under control. “Yes, sir.”

  As the gangbanger stormed off, he got to work.

  With his family out of sight, he kept his ears alert, checking if he could hear anything to let him know all was well. But he couldn’t detect anything.

  From behind, he heard a soft voice. “Hi,”

  He turned, finding Grace, scraping away at a dish. “Hello, Grace,” he said, making sure to keep his voice low. “Good to see you again.”

  “You really mean that?” she asked. Her demeanor seemed fragile, like a child approaching her dad with an admission of guilt. “The three of us weren’t really sure how the rest of you would receive us after everything that happened.”

  “We don’t blame the three of you if that’s what you mean. You did what you had to do.”

  She nodded, then managed a weak smile.

  “Besides,” he added. “If it’s redemption you seek, you’ll have a chance for that soon.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice soaring to a dangerously high volume that attracted the stare of the gangbanger on duty.

  “Shh! Just wait. I’ll give you all details later.”

  With the gangbanger in charge a little distracted by a friend stepping toward with a steaming test tube of liquid. Hatfield didn’t think anything about it, figuring it was just some kind of homemade alcohol. But with the distraction in place, he ducked down another hallway, hoping to see what his family was up to.

  At the end of the hallway, he found Jess backed into a corner. The bearded gangbanger had her boxed in, his hands firmly planted against the wall as he pressed against her ear. She tried to push him away, but he wasn’t budging.

  Hatfield’s instincts balled both hands into fists. He charged into the corner, seeing his wife give him head frantic shakes. This was a warning to her husband not to be so impulsive. “Uh… sir.”

  The gangbanger turned, rolling his eyes as if he didn’t appreciate the interruption. “What is it?”

  The impulse to push an angry fist deep into this guy’s skull hadn’t fully faded. He took a deep breath and paused. Finally, he spoke. “I’m done cleaning the oven.”

  “Bullshit. You couldn’t have finished that quickly.”

  “I did, sir. I’m a fast worker,” Hatfield said. He didn’t mention that his reason for working so quickly related to his family’s safety. No way would he trust his wife and kids around these animals.

  “Wait here!” the guys yelled. Then he stormed away.

  Once alone, Hatfield leaned closer to his wife. “Did he hurt you?”

  She shook her head no, but her eyes said something different.

  “Are you sure?”

  “He scares me. All of them do. But no, they haven’t hurt me… yet.”

  He embraced her, easing her head under her chin. He could feel her desperate sobs rattle both of their bodies. His mind was working overtime now, devising a way out, a way to never have to deal with these people again. “Just remember what I said. I need you to stay strong for the kids. Can you do that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. It won’t be long.”

  She yanked her head away, brought their eyes into contact as if trying to read him. “What does that mean?”

  “It means just what it sounds like. This won’t last forever.”

  “Honey, I don’t want you to do anything crazy. We need you. The kids and I need you, and now that the captain is gone, the compound needs you.”

  “I understand that.”

  They embraced again, and another question snapped into his head. He pulled some pills out of his pocket, held them up discreetly for her to see.

  “What sort of impact would these have on a body?”

  Once again, she gazed into his eyes, worried now. “Why?”

  “I just need to know.”

  “Well, this one,” she said, indicating a large bottle, “is an anti-bacterial medication. The other two are sedatives.”

  “Sedatives, that means it puts you to sleep, right?”

  “With the right dosage, yes.”

  He nodded, his eyes dancing with a plan.

  “Trevor, even if you were trying to use it to poison these people—number one, you’d need a lot more than one bottle to have enough for everybody.”

  “What could one bottle do?”

  “Well, it could—”

  From behind, a stern voice sliced into their conversation. “The oven looks like crap! Get back there now, and keep cleaning!”

  Hatfield said nothing, quickly angling his body to conceal the drugs he and Jess were looking at. Speaking his mind obviously wouldn’t be a good idea. Then he noticed something in the bearded gangbanger’s hand. The same thing he saw the other guy drinking in the kitchen. A long test tube containing a steaming liquid. He turned, discreetly tucking a bottle into his wife’s pocket and covering the action by pretending to hug his wife. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to give my wife a little embrace before I—”

  “I do mind! This is not a honeymoon suite. Now get out of here and get back to work.”

  “Yes, sir.” He gave his wife a subtle nod and got one in return. Then he was back to the kitchen working on the oven and not sure how concerned he should be about what was happening in the hallway.

  As he finished cleaning the stove, the need for a plan became clear. So he began to construct one. First, he compiled a list in his head of the best shooters at the compound, based on the observing he’d done of various guys taking turns at target practice. He’d need good shooters, and he’d need reliable help. And more than anything else, he needed people who were as determined as he was for the situation to change.

  Once again, he took note of another gangbanger guzzling the homemade brew. An idea began to take root.

  Later in the evening, the Hatfield family gathered at bedtime. Jess had nothing to say about problems created by the bearded gangbanger. But the vaguely remorseful look on his wife’s face told him everything he needed to know. She could always handle herself in tough situations, no question about it.

  The family shared a brief prayer, then went to be in darkness and silence, an ominous pall hanging over them. Out of nowhere, he said, “This place isn’t safe for you all.”

  “It’s not an ideal setting,” Jess said, “but we’ll survive. Just like you said. We just have to be strong, and we have to know that we have each other.”

  “Yes, but don’t forget what else I said. This can’t last forever. And it won’t. I’m going to try to arrange things so the three of you can wind up in a safer place.”

  “What are you talking about?” his wife asked.

  “I’m talking about the bunker. Jade has made it clear that she’s comfortable with having more people join her and her family.”

  “But how can we get out of here?”

  “You let me take care of that. I just need to know if you all are with me. Can I count on each of you to work together and play your part in the plan?”

  “Sure can, Dad,” Justin said with no hesitation in his voice.

  Tami added, “Sounds like it could be a little scary, but then life right now is a little scary. So yes. I’m in.”

  It warmed him to see his family was with him, that they’re were afraid but not paralyzed by the fear. “Good to hear this. I’ll have the plan together by tomorrow morning. Goodnight all.”

  When his family answered, there was a life to their voices he hadn’t heard
in weeks. The spirit was still there. Hatfield went to bed, knowing they’d need every ounce of it if they were to make it out alive.

  The morning came too quickly. Hatfield had hoped he’d have every step of the plan set in his mind by sunrise—as if he’d naïvely assumed his dreams would help them take shape. Instead, he just dreamed of his dad, face as stern as ever, words as harsh as ever.

  “Are you proud of me, Dad?” he asked a ghostly figure in a ceremonial uniform.

  He answered, “Son, I am proud of men and women who work hard to make life better and safer for their families. I’m proud of people who are brave, strong, stoic in the face of danger, wise in the face of challenges.

  The answer didn’t satisfy young Trevor, mysteriously clad in the clothes he would wear as a grown-up. It was all fine and well to assert the qualities he admired and respected. But his son needed to know if he had lived up to those qualities.

  Just as the sergeant parted his lips and began to speak, a loud clank startled Hatfield and his family out of sleep.

  The bearded gangbanger charged in, rifle poised, face angry. “Everybody up! Time to get into that kitchen and get your work done.” Then he pointed to Jess. “You will have a different task. I’ll meet you in our sleeping quarters!”

  Hatfield studied the guy’s moves, noticed that he occasionally got sloppy with his gun. As the guy launched into smug laughter, it occurred to him he could have lunged out, stripped the gun from his hand, and killed him.

  But he had to consider the big picture. And if all went well with the plan, there would be a seismic shift in the big picture within a few hours. He dragged himself out of bed as the bearded guy took off with a violent slam of the door. He needed a plan, and it was time to deliver one.

  After reaching the kitchen, Hatfield saw Jess ushered away and down the hallway. Before getting there, she flashed her a confident grin as well as the reason for her confidence. Pulling back the tail of her blouse, she revealed a bottle of pills. So far, the plan was working to perfection.