After the EMP- The Darkness Trilogy

by Harley Tate

  Great. Tracy tried to stay calm. The more in control she could be, the better shot they had of making it out alive. She fingered the butt of the pistol sticking out the back of her jeans. Worse came to worst, she could use it. Tracy knew how to fire a gun. She’d hunted as a kid, shot a handgun for target practice, even went shooting with Walter and Madison as part of a 4-H camping trip when her daughter was twelve.

  But shooting a person was a million times different than shooting a painted circle on a bale of hay or even a deer at the end of a rifle sight.

  Her palms grew sweaty and Tracy wiped them on the front of her jeans. She needed a steady grip, not a slick one.

  The sound of metal jingling made Tracy’s teeth clench.

  One of the men shouted from the kitchen. “You think this stiff’s got a ride?”

  “A guy who breathes from a tank all day? Naw, man, he can’t drive.”

  “Then what’s with these keys?”

  Damn it. They’d found the car keys in the kitchen, not in the hall. She hadn’t even been close. Tracy needed those keys. She had to get home to her supplies and to her family. What if Walter had made it home and she wasn’t there? What if he’d shown up and found the house empty?

  Would he think the worst? Would he come looking for her? She needed to get out of this apartment, get home, and be safe. They couldn’t take her best shot to get there.

  Tracy eased the gun from out of her waistband and pulled back the hammer.

  “What are you doing?” Wanda whispered as the cat squirmed in her grip.

  “Getting ready. They can’t take the car.”

  “You can’t shoot them!” Wanda’s voice edged up a notch and Tracy hissed at her to be quiet.

  The cat let out a little yowl.

  “You hear that?”

  “What?”

  “Sounded like a damn cat.”

  “Ignore it. Little bastard’s gonna be dead in a few days anyway.”

  “I hate cats. Damn things were always crapping in my front yard.”

  Tracy braced herself.

  “I said let it go, man. We ain’t got time for your shit.”

  The cat squirmed again and Wanda lost her grip. It landed on the crowded floor of the closest with a thud. Tracy inhaled and brought her other hand up to grip the revolver. She held the gun down and out in front of her, arms straight, barrel pointed toward the floor.

  Fireball meowed and pawed at the door. It was only a matter of time, now. Footsteps sounded in the hall. Thud. Thud. Thud. The flashlight beam swept the bottom of the closet and Fireball reached out to swat at it, his little paw dipping below the door to stretch out into the hall beyond.

  Wanda reached to pull the cat back, but Tracy shook her head. It was too late. No sense in waiting. She reached for the door handle and twisted, popping the door free before she pulled back and kicked. Her boot hit the door a few inches to the left of the handle and it flew open.

  From the sound of the smack and garbled curse, she’d found her target. Tracy eased into the hall, gun raised, arms straight. A man stood half behind the door, half not, hands covering his face.

  Blood oozed between his fingers. He unleashed a string of vulgar curses, his mouth obviously unharmed.

  “Stay back!” Tracy shouted at him and the man finally looked up, somehow surprised by her presence.

  “Hey now! Easy!” He held his bloody hands up in the air. From her vantage point, most of his face was in shadow, the dropped flashlight casting an eerie, almost hallucinatory glow around his feet. He had to be over six feet tall, with broad shoulders and a stance that said he packed more muscle than the average office worker.

  Tracy would be no match for him without the gun. She motioned with it. “Step back!”

  He licked at a trail of blood that seeped into his mouth, but didn’t move. “Listen lady. You already broke my nose. What are you gonna do now, shoot me?”

  “If I have to. I said, step back.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  She cocked her head. “I know how to use this. Don’t think I won’t.”

  While Tracy trained the gun on the man, Wanda slipped out into the hall, the damn cat back in her arms. “Let the cat go, Wanda. He’s caused enough problems.”

  “Hey, Wanda! Is that you?”

  She stammered a response. “W-who’s a-as-sking?”

  “It’s Richard from maintenance. Remember me? I helped you with your HVAC.”

  She sniffed back some snot. “You don’t look familiar.”

  “Come on, you know me. Tell your friend here to put down the gun and we can all talk, like civilized folk.”

  Wanda glanced at Tracy and shook her head.

  “I’m not lowering the gun. Now do what I said and step back.”

  “Hey what the hell’s going on out—” The man from the kitchen appeared, his hands full with a bag of Cheetos and a six-pack of beer. “Whoa! Hey now!”

  “Hold up your hands!”

  He complied, hands and snacks up in the air before Tracy had to tell him twice. “Now set the beer down and toss me the keys you found. Nice and easy.”

  The man from the kitchen didn’t move. Instead, he opened his mouth. “How about we talk about this? I bet we can come to a solution.”

  Tracy inhaled. They weren’t going to give up the keys. Not without a fight. She could tell by the way the one with the broken nose kept eyeing Wanda and how the one from the kitchen wouldn’t put down the beer. They thought they had the upper hand even though she had the gun.

  She didn’t want to shoot anyone, but she needed the keys. Tracy pointed the gun at the guy with the broken nose as she addressed the one from the kitchen. “Give me the keys or I shoot him in the leg.”

  “Hank, listen to the lady.” He wiped at the blood on his face and turned to his friend, nerves finally breaking through his bravado. “We don’t need the car. We’ve already got one. Throw her the keys, man.”

  “She’s bluffing.”

  “I’m not.” Tracy bent her knees slightly, easing into position in case she needed to shoot. Pretend it’s target practice. Pretend it’s not real. She could do this. She could protect herself. “I’ll count to three. One.”

  “Shit! Hank, come on!” The man with the broken nose slammed his hand on the hallway wall to get his partner’s attention, but it wasn’t Hank who reacted.

  Fireball yowled and launched from Wanda’s arms, a flying ball of fur and claws. Wanda shouted and lunged for him. “Fireball, no!”

  Everything slowed. Tracy had been in a few life-and-death situations before, many years ago. Her childhood hadn’t been a walk in the park. But it had been different then. She hadn’t had a husband and a daughter depending on her. It’d been just her and her stuffed rabbit and just enough room to hide under the bed.

  She’d been too young to do anything but hide then. But now she was all grown up. Strong. Capable. Dependable. She sucked in a breath.

  It was as if the air turned to gelatin, every movement pushing against the semi-solid substance, slowing time down to almost a stop. Wanda’s arms reached out, stretching for the cat as it darted between the man’s legs.

  He dove for Wanda, seeing his chance to gain the upper hand. His fingers clawed at Wanda’s hair, tangling in the strands. He planned to break her neck. Tracy saw it all like a still from a movie. The minuscule movements, the intent on his face writ plain.

  Tracy steadied her arms, found the sight, and pulled the trigger.

  Boom!

  The sound echoed through the apartment as the recoil shoved her arms up in the air. A puff of smoke and the smell of cordite overpowered the stench of death in the apartment.

  The man’s mouth fell open.

  He gaped at her, head bending down to look at the hole she’d blasted straight into the left side of his chest.

  Hank, the man from the kitchen, shouted and threw the beer on the ground before charging toward her. If he’d only turned and run.

  Tracy didn’t hesit
ate. The trigger compressed, the revolver fired. Another shot, another hit.

  Hank swung back, the first round hitting his shoulder. He kept coming like the Terminator, relentless and undeterred. Tracy fired again.

  Blood and carnage bloomed on his chest. Hank fell to his knees, hands reaching up to hold the wound. It didn’t help. In moments, he fell to the floor, three feet from his partner, face down in the other man’s blood.

  Ringing. It’s all Tracy could hear. A deafening ringing. She blinked. Had it been an hour or mere seconds? She couldn’t be sure.

  She turned to Wanda. The woman cowered on the floor, hands over her head like a child trying in vain to disappear. “Are you all right?” Tracy couldn’t tell if she’d spoken out loud.

  She opened her mouth to try again when Wanda moved, peeling her arms away to glance up through wet lashes. “You shot them!”

  “I had to.”

  A tear hit Wanda’s cheek. “What the hell do we do now?”

  Not fall apart, that’s what.

  Tracy shoved down the rising fear and vomit that threatened to drown her. There was plenty of time to grieve and process. Right now they needed to move. She held out her hand. “We get the keys and we run.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  MADISON

  Sacramento, CA

  8:00 p.m.

  “Who could be knocking?” Madison stared at the front door, the sound of her blood whooshing through her veins so loud she could barely think.

  “It’s probably just a neighbor.” Peyton shrugged like nothing was the matter. “Just answer it.”

  Madison didn’t think any neighbor of her parents’ would be knocking at this time of night. She glanced at her watch. It was after eight. Granted, the sky didn’t exactly scream middle of the night, what with it lit up in an arcing field of color, but still.

  Nothing good could come from a late-night visit. She exhaled and walked to the door. “Can I help you?” She shouted through the wood, unwilling to just throw it open.

  “It’s William Donovan from a few doors down. Is everything all right?”

  Madison rose up on her toes to stare through the peep hole. A man in his fifties stood on the other side, hands stuffed in his jean pockets. He didn’t look all that threatening, but her parents had never mentioned him and Madison didn’t remember him from her visits home this past year.

  She unlocked the door with caution, barely opening it wide enough to stick her head through. “Hi. Is there something I can do for you? It’s getting late.”

  He eyed her up and down, at least what he could see, and Madison fought the urge to slam the door in his face.

  “Where’s Tracy?”

  “She’s busy. I’m her daughter, Madison. Can I help you?”

  The man shifted on his feet and he glanced at the Jeep in the driveway. They should have parked it in the garage. He pulled one hand out of a pocket and wiped at the corners of his mouth. “Your dad here?”

  “Not at the moment.” If the man was a neighbor, he had to know her dad flew for a living. She couldn’t lie about everything.

  “You doin’ all right?”

  This was getting them nowhere and Madison had almost had enough. “I’m fine. It’s getting late. Is there something I can help you with?”

  “Like I said, I’m William Donovan, but you can call me Bill. Just wanted to check and see if you all were okay. I saw that Jeep parked in the drive and hadn’t seen your mother come back, so I was worried.”

  Madison scrunched up her brows. “What do you mean, you saw my mother leave?”

  A smirk threatened the corners of his lips. “She left pretty early this morning with another woman. Haven’t seen them come back and that garage looks pretty empty. Wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything bad going on, you know.”

  Madison tried to mask her relief. Her mother had been home that morning. It had to mean she was okay. Safe. Maybe she was just out getting supplies or helping a friend. She’d be back. Soon.

  Bill was just a concerned neighbor, looking out for her. Madison smiled. “I came home from college this morning. With all the power out, we can’t exactly have class.”

  He whistled and leaned back to catch a glimpse of the driveway. “So that Jeep there is yours? Pretty fancy for a college kid. Looks like it could handle some serious off-roading.”

  Madison’s friendly smile faded. It was one thing to check and make sure the house wasn’t being robbed, but poking around about the Jeep didn’t seem neighborly. Just the opposite, in fact. She tried to keep calm. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve only ever taken it on the streets.”

  Bill nodded, but didn’t make a move to leave. “You, um… here all alone?”

  Shit. The last thing she wanted to do was tell him the truth. Who knew what he was after. Food? Weapons? Just assessing the neighborhood for threats? Madison tried to dodge. “It’s getting late. Thanks for stopping by to check on the place. I’ll let my mom know you came by.”

  Bill still didn’t get the hint. He scratched at the back of his head. “We missed your parents at the neighborhood meeting this afternoon.”

  Madison frowned. “What meeting?”

  “We all got together at Penny’s place and talked about the state of affairs.”

  “Why weren’t we invited?”

  “Didn’t think anyone was home.”

  Madison exhaled. What was he getting at? She tried to fish for some more information. Feigning ignorance could come in handy. “Has anyone heard anything? Is there a timeline for when the power’s coming back on?”

  Bill shrugged. “I heard it isn’t coming back on. That grids all over are fried.”

  Madison pretended to be shocked. “That can’t be true.”

  “You know Bob down the street?” He pointed north.

  Madison shook her head.

  “He works for the power company. Says there’s nothing they can do. No one has any backup transformers, and even if they did, the grid’s in such bad shape nothing will work. Around here, we rely on natural gas to generate electricity. Without the grid up and running, the gas can’t get converted. We’re SOL.”

  Madison voiced a thought she’d been bouncing around for a while. “What about over the ridge? There’s all those wind turbines on the hills next to the highway. There have to be hundreds on the way to the Bay Area.”

  “Not our grid. Maybe the Bay Area could get power going again if the wires going to the turbines aren’t shot.” Bill shrugged. “But that won’t help us.”

  “What does everyone here want to do?”

  “Hang tight, mostly.” He almost snorted. “Some of these idiots actually think help is coming.”

  “You don’t?”

  He paused long enough for Madison to get the creeps. “Help isn’t coming. You know that as well as I do.”

  “I don’t know anything.”

  He nodded at the Jeep. “So all those supplies in the back are what, accidental?”

  Madison swallowed.

  “We’re all screwed. No power. No police. No military. Nothing but our wits and our strength.”

  “What are you saying?”

  Bill stepped closer and Madison fought the urge to step back. He couldn’t see inside with the way she held the door and Madison wanted it to stay that way. “I’m saying, it’s survival of the fittest now.”

  Madison ran her tongue across her lips. It scraped like sandpaper across wood. “I think you’re selling people short.”

  “Am I? You really think everything is going to be fine?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Then what are you saying, exactly? Because based on what you’ve got stashed away in your car, I bet you’ve got a hell of a lot more tucked away inside that house. I saw Tracy pull that Suburban in late the other night. It looked stuffed to the gills.” He wiped at his face. “When things get hard, are you all planning on sharing the wealth?”

  Madison exhaled. She didn’t know what to do. Part of her wanted
to say of course they’d share, but was that true? When it came down to her friends and family or a neighbor she’d never met, who mattered more?

  Where did her allegiances lie? In her heart, Madison knew the answer, but she hated to admit it. This man wasn’t any different from her. She’d already run from the police and stepped over a dead body to steal food. How much lower would she go? Would she have any morals left when it came to survival?

  Had she changed so much in such a short time?

  Her grip on the door wobbled. “I don’t think I want to have this discussion anymore. Have a good night, Mr. Donovan.” Madison moved to shut the door, but the man stepped forward in a rush, slamming a thick, meaty hand on the wood.

  “I don’t think we’re done here.”

  Before Madison could react, the door swung wide. Peyton gripped the door handle in one hand and her father’s old baseball bat in the other. The metal shaft shined in the light. “If Madison says you’re done, then you’re done.”

  Her parents’ neighbor might have been larger than Madison, but he was nothing compared to Peyton. With a flex of his arm, Peyton made his intentions clear. He wasn’t to be messed with, and neither was Madison.

  After a moment, the neighbor stepped back with a nod. “All right.” He held up his hands. “I don’t want any trouble.” He turned to Madison. “You tell your mom there’s another meeting tomorrow at noon. The Palmers’ place. If she makes it back, we’d love to have her.”

  “If she doesn’t, I’ll be attending for her.”

  Bill shot her a glance, but said nothing, opting instead to back off the front porch. He took one more look at the Jeep, lingering for a beat in the drive, before walking to the street and turning south. They watched him until he disappeared around the first corner.

  Madison exhaled and leaned against the wall as Peyton shut the door. “Thanks for the help.”

  Peyton lifted the bat and rested it on his shoulder. “No problem. I’ve always wanted to be the heavy, anyway.”

  “Where’d you find that?”

  He shrugged. “The garage. It was a little dusty, but a couple swings took care of that.” Peyton patted the bat with a grin. “I figured better to show we mean business but not tip our hand.”