After the EMP- The Darkness Trilogy

by Harley Tate

  Chapter Twenty-One

  WALTER

  University Farm, CSU Chico

  12:00 p.m.

  “I never got a visual, but I only heard two voices.”

  “And you’re sure they haven’t seen me?”

  “They think you’re a college kid.” Madison pointed at his ball cap. “The Chico State hat was a good call.”

  Walter nodded. As soon as they arrived, the artificial quiet pricked Walter’s ears. No birds. No squirrels chittering on the roof. If the farm was abandoned, there would be something.

  Instead, in every barn, down every path, quiet.

  He checked his rifle and exhaled. He would need to confront whoever was there and deal with the situation, hopefully without bloodshed. “You find the others and regroup. I want you safe and well-hidden.”

  Madison’s eyes went wide. “Dad! No! You can’t go out there all by yourself.”

  “I won’t. You’ll be my cover. But we need to assess the threat. I’ll make myself known and get a read on them. Maybe they’re scared and trying to protect what they have.”

  His daughter shook her head. “No. I’m not agreeing to that. You could be walking into an ambush.”

  They had been so lucky at the greenhouse. Would it hold or would this be a repeat of the communications building? Walter handed the rifle over to his daughter. “Take this and go. I’ll give you ten minutes. After that, I’m walking out.”

  Madison handed over her handgun and gripped the rifle with two hands. He could tell by the way her jaw set and her shoulders tensed that Madison hated his idea. But he couldn’t risk her again. He might need her and the others to end this, but he would protect them as much as he could.

  This wasn’t about him being the hero or sheltering her as much as it was base instinct. He couldn’t put his daughter in harm’s way on purpose. He had to keep her alive. Madison stood in front of him a moment longer, frowning at the rifle before taking off for the nearest building.

  So far, whomever she heard hadn’t made it to this portion of the farm. Walter eased down to the opposite end of the building and glanced around the corner. Clear. He felt like a dog ready to flush out a flock of birds so the hunters on their horses could shoot.

  Only he didn’t know which hunters would do the shooting.

  As Walter braced himself on the wall of the barn, his fingers rubbing against the faded red paint, a familiar voice pierced the silence.

  “Hello? Is anyone here?”

  No. Nononono. It can’t be. Walter swallowed down a wave of panic.

  “Our car just ran out of gas and we’re hoping someone can help. Hello?”

  Walter eased back toward the edge of the barn and stuck his head around the corner. His wife stood in between two buildings, hands cupped around her mouth as she shouted.

  From his distance, he couldn’t see a weapon anywhere on her body. Damn it.

  Whatever Tracy thought she was doing, it wouldn’t work. She was going to get herself killed.

  “Hey there, pretty lady, how can I help you?”

  A man appeared out of nowhere, hunting rifle hanging from a strap on his shoulder. His beard and scraggly hair obscured most of his face, but the tanned skin of his hands and forearms said farmer. The grease stains on his denim shirt were either from the farm equipment or a car that wouldn’t start. Either way, he was used to hard, dirty work.

  Not the type of person Walter wanted to confront. He’d take a greenhouse graduate student any day of the week over a man used to physical labor and difficult choices.

  Walter wished he hadn’t given Madison the rifle. If he still had it, he could have taken the man out where he stood. With a 9mm in his palm, he couldn’t do anything but wait.

  His wife smiled at the man and Walter’s insides twisted.

  “Oh, thank you so much. My husband and I are trying to make it to Redding and our car just sputtered to a stop right at the fence out there.” She turned and pointed, the motion accentuating the curve of her hips in her form-fitting jeans.

  Walter didn’t miss the man’s gaze as it checked out his wife’s figure. He ground his teeth together.

  “Where’s your husband now?”

  Tracy turned back around with a smile. “At the car.” She leaned in and her smile deepened. “He’s not one for getting his shoes dirty.”

  The farmer chuckled. “City type?”

  Tracy nodded. “I keep trying to tell him he needs to get out and get into nature, but his idea of roughing it is a hotel room with only a queen bed.”

  The man stepped closer to Tracy. “We have plenty of fuel, but it doesn’t come cheap.”

  “I’ve got cash back at the car. I’m sure we could settle on a fair price.”

  The man’s eyes roved up and down Tracy’s body and Walter gripped his gun tighter. “Money’s no good any more. But there’s something else you could use as payment.”

  Something inside Walter snapped. He couldn’t stand there a second longer and let his wife take this man’s bait. As soon as she left his sight, who knows what would happen to her. A parade of horribles flashed across his mind’s eye and Walter stepped into the clearing, gun drawn.

  “Step away from her.”

  Tracy spun around, her eyes wide. She shook her head a fraction, trying to tell him to back off, but Walter ignored the gesture. He would take care of this problem.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “Her husband.”

  The farmer looked up and down. “You don’t strike me as the city type.”

  “I’m not. Now hand her the rifle or I’ll put a bullet between your eyes.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

  Walter aimed. He couldn’t waste anymore time. As he pulled the trigger, a shot rang out. The bullet pierced his dominant leg, midway between the hip joint and his knee. Walter jerked and his shot went wide as the lead tore through his quad and out through his hamstring.

  Everything happened in slow motion after that. His wife ripped a small handgun from out of her bra and twisted toward the farmer. She fired without hesitation, one, two, three times. He clutched his heart as more gunfire rang out.

  Walter staggered toward her, gun raised as the blood pumped from his leg wound to coat his pants. Tracy dove for the rifle, scrabbling on the ground for the strap. She tugged at it, unable to wrest the weapon out from under the weight of the dead man.

  Another shot rang out and Walter turned to see Brianna with a shotgun in her hands.

  No! It was all going so wrong. They were supposed to stay hidden and safe. Protected. Walter fell to one knee as he tried to find a target. Where were they? Where were the shots coming from?

  His breathing slowed and his vision dimmed, but Walter sucked in a lungful of air and concentrated.

  God, give me the strength to get through this.

  He’d prayed more in the last two weeks than he’d prayed his entire adult life, but Walter wasn’t going to stop now. Just give me the strength. Please.

  He caught a flurry of movement to his right. “Over here!” He shouted for Brianna and the others to hear.

  Another round of gunfire and Tracy screamed. No! She fell back, rifle in her hands, and brought it up to her shoulder.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  Again and again she pulled the trigger, firing in the direction of the incoming shots.

  A shout filtered through the sound of gunfire.

  Walter could barely keep his eyes open and he landed hard on his butt in the dirt. Before he could blink, a pair of arms reached up under his and began to pull him back. He blinked Peyton into focus. “No! Get back. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

  Walter flailed, trying to push the kid away.

  “You’re not dying out here.” Peyton dragged Walter behind a building and propped him up against the wall.

  Something tight cinched around his leg and the world went dark.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  MADISON

  University
Farm, CSU Chico

  12:30 p.m.

  What the hell happened? Madison frantically looked through the scope of the rifle, trying to find anyone to kill. The man who shot her father lay dead in a heap thanks to her mom, but there were others still out there, she could feel it.

  Tucker crouched beside her, his handgun no match for the rifle Madison carried. “Is your dad all right?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Madison wanted more than anything to find him, but she couldn’t. Not until it was safe. Her mom crouched behind a water barrel, gasping for breath but otherwise unharmed. How she’d managed to free the rifle and not get killed, Madison had no idea.

  She shouted to her. “Mom!”

  Her mother whipped her head around. “Madison! Are you all right?”

  Madison nodded and pointed at the building across the open area. “There are more!”

  Her mom nodded and turned back around, pulling up the rifle to peer through the scope. She brought it down and shook her head.

  Nothing.

  Madison’s lungs ached with the need to scream. This had all gone so wrong so fast. She turned to Tucker. “I’m going out there.”

  “Not a chance. Your father already tried that and got himself shot.”

  As Madison started to move, Tucker grabbed her arm. “You’re the best shot with the rifle. You need to stay here.”

  She cursed under her breath. He was right, but she couldn’t stay there and do nothing. As she opened her mouth to argue, the sound of an engine revving cut her off.

  Their truck barreled into the clearing, a man she’d never seen before behind the wheel. He hollered out the window. “Get in! We’re movin’ out!”

  One by one a group of men poured out from various buildings like wolves converging on a kill. Madison counted six. As the first two reached the truck, her mom popped up from behind the water barrel and fired.

  A man with a ball cap on backwards and one leg over the side of the pickup bed jerked and buckled. He fell back off the side. A volley of shots rang out from inside the cab of the truck and Madison raised her rifle. She fired, but her shot missed.

  Again she shot, but the truck’s wheels began to move, tires spinning in the dirt and coughing up dust. The driver had put it in neutral. With the dust screen giving them cover, she couldn’t make out a clear shot.

  They were going to get away. A horn sounded to their left and the Jetta appeared from out of nowhere, headed straight for the pickup. Drew sat behind the wheel, eyes focused on the side of the truck.

  “He’s going to hit it!”

  Tucker jumped up. “He can’t! There’s a whole row of gas cans in the back!”

  Madison shook her head. “What’s that matter?”

  “If he hits them and they burst or there’s a spark anywhere, they’ll explode. There’s too much vapor in the cans!”

  Before Madison could ask another question, Tucker took off, darting out from behind the half-open barn door, waving his arms and shouting.

  The Jetta didn’t slow. Oh my God. Madison raised the rifle. She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t shoot Drew, but Tucker was headed straight for him.

  Brianna busted out of her hiding space behind the harvester, shotgun blasting at the truck. Madison joined in, firing into the cab, trying to hit the driver.

  With the dust and the movement of the truck, she couldn’t get a clean shot. More shots rang out. Madison didn’t know if they were from the truck, her mom, or somewhere else, but she kept firing.

  Shouts and shots and confusion. The truck lurched forward, heading for the exit and the road beyond. The Jetta followed, gaining speed as it entered the clearing.

  A shot hit the windshield of the Jetta and the glass shattered.

  “Drew!” Her mother stood up, rifle in one hand as she raced toward the car.

  It slowed and her mom gained on it, reaching the driver’s-side door as the car careened to a stop, front tires stuck in a drainage ditch. The truck peeled out of the farm and landed hard on the paved road, racing away as the dust in the middle of the buildings cleared.

  “Tucker!” Brianna screamed and Madison spun around.

  Oh, no. Please, no. She raced forward, stumbling to a stop at Brianna’s side. Her roommate bent over Tucker as he lay sprawled out on the ground, blood coagulating in a pool around him as it mixed with all the dust. A bullet wound marred his chest and another ripped his pants at the thigh.

  His eyes stared up at the sky, vacant and empty.

  Tucker was dead.

  Madison eased forward and reached for Brianna, but she shoved her away. “Get away from him!”

  Brianna scooped her boyfriend up in her arms, cradling his lifeless form against her chest. Blood ran in a trail down his arm and off his fingertips and his head lolled as Brianna hoisted him up closer to her face.

  Deep, throaty sobs echoed up from her roommate’s chest and Madison ached for her. She wanted to help, support, do anything but stand there like a spectator on someone else’s grief.

  Where is everyone else? She spun in a circle, eyes landing on her mother wrestling with the driver’s side door to the Jetta. Madison rushed over, adding her strength to the fight. Together they tore the door free and pushed it wide.

  Drew sat slumped in the seat, head resting on the dash, floppy arms at his sides. Her mother reached inside the cab and felt for a pulse. After a moment, she pulled her hand away.

  Madison exhaled. “Is he?”

  Her mother nodded. “He’s dead.”

  None of it seemed real. First Tucker, now Drew. That only left Peyton and her father. Madison grabbed her mother’s shoulder. “We need to find Dad.”

  Her mother nodded. “He’s with Peyton by the grain stores.”

  They took off together, her mom slowing as they passed Brianna still kneeling on the ground with Tucker in her arms. Her father sat up against the wall of a barn, a tourniquet on his leg and a grimace on his face.

  “How is he?” She stared at Peyton, willing him to tell her good news.

  “Looks like the bleeding is under control and he’s regained consciousness, so that’s good.”

  “I was only out for a minute. Pain can do that to a guy.”

  Madison kneeled beside her father. “Tucker and Drew are dead.”

  He tried to move, but fell back against the barn with a wince. “How about Brianna?”

  “She’s… with Tucker. Physically, she’s fine.”

  He nodded. Madison’s mother kneeled down beside him. “I’m sorry, Walter. I shouldn’t have come. I should have—”

  Her father silenced her with a finger to her lips. “Not now. We need to focus on getting back to the house. The rest can wait.”

  “What about Tucker and Drew?” Madison couldn’t leave them there.

  Peyton stood up. “Is the Jetta still drivable?”

  Her mother answered. “I think so. It only stopped because Drew…”

  Peyton nodded in understanding. “I’ll get them into the Jetta. It won’t be pretty, but I’ll get them home. After I back it out of the ditch, let’s get everyone loaded up.”

  Madison focused on her father. He’d been right to question coming here. Chico brought them more misery than anything. If they had stayed on course and driven straight to Truckee, Tucker and Drew would be alive. Her father wouldn’t be shot.

  They would be safe. Not ravaged and brutalized and exposed. Madison stood and wiped the dirt from her knees. “I’ll go help Peyton. You stay here and rest.”

  Her father nodded. “Don’t think I could go anywhere if I tried.”

  Madison turned in time to see Peyton kneeling next to Brianna, easing the burden of Tucker’s dead body from her grasp. Whatever happened next, Madison wouldn’t let those men get away with this. Somehow, some way, she would make them pay.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  WALTER

  863 Dewberry Lane, Chico, CA

  8:00 p.m.

  It took Peyton and Madison all
afternoon to dig two graves. Walter hated watching his daughter lift shovelfuls of dirt over her shoulder beside her best friend. They shouldn’t have been out in the heat of the day, preparing to bury their friend and his co-pilot.

  Drew. A man he’d dragged through a riot and killed for to keep alive. He’d survived downtown Sacramento, the suicide of his fiancée, and an infected gunshot wound, all to die when he should have been right here, safe.

  They had a plan. His wife and Drew were to stay behind. If they hadn’t shown up… If they hadn’t interfered…

  “You’re right to blame me. I’m the reason Drew and Tucker are dead.”

  Walter glanced up. His wife stood in the doorway, a dish towel in her hands. She twisted it as she leaned against the wood trim, her face stoic, expression void of emotion.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “But you thought it. And you’re right. We should have stayed here.”

  “Why did you come?”

  She pushed off the doorway and made her way into the living room. “Something didn’t feel right. I stood in the kitchen, staring out at the Jetta and I couldn’t shake the sensation that you were all about to die.”

  “So you just showed up with no plan and blew it all up.”

  “Not exactly. When we got there, the truck was gone. It wasn’t where you told me it would be. I panicked.” Tracy eased herself down onto the coffee table, perching on the edge. “I thought we were too late.”

  Walter adjusted himself on the couch. Peyton’s belt had done the job of a tourniquet out at the farm and by the time they made it back to the house, the major bleeding had stopped. Now his leg sat on a mountain of pillows, bandaged to stop any secondary bleeding. He’d taken the first dose of antibiotics from their reserve supply already to ward off an infection.