CME Apocalypse Fiction

by Blaze Eastwood

  Amanda let go of the door, and then it came to a thunderous crash as it closed.

  “Bray!” Nicole shouted again, storming back into the kitchen. She entered the living room, where Bray was jolted awake.

  “What?”

  “They're getting away! They just ran out through the garage doorway!”

  Bray jumped off the couch and hurried to the closet, where he kept his rifle. “Do you know how to use a gun?”

  “Only revolvers,” Nicole said.

  “Okay, stay here,” Bray said, gripping the rifle. He ran to the door and put on his shoes.

  “I'm not staying here,” Nicole said. “They can id me. I'm not just going to sit here and wait. I'll bring my revolver and I'll head east. You can go west and look for them.”

  * * * * *

  Instead of just running away, Amanda ran toward the house and looked at the address, so she could report it to the police when she got the chance.

  The numbers next to the front door read: 415. Now she needed to find out what road they were on.

  “Okay, let's go,” Amanda said to her two daughters, who were more than eager to get out of there. “Run as fast as you can.”

  They ran for nearly a quarter of a mile before they saw a street sign at the top of a metal pole that read: CUMBERSTONE DR.

  Before she could look away from the sign, a startling gunshot went off. She looked back and saw Bray pointing a rifle at them. He was standing seventy-five meters away, aiming at them.

  * * * * *

  Nicole heard the gunshot, and began running in the direction of the sound. She knew Bray had spotted the hostages.

  * * * * *

  “Keep running,” Amanda urged. “Cover your heads with your hands.”

  Three more gunshots erupted, and then Bray ceased fire.

  Chapter Ten

  Benton made a trip to Dianne's house again, just to make sure she was okay. He brought her some of the groceries he had purchased.

  “You didn't have to bring me any groceries,” Dianne said.

  “You're going to need them,” Benton said, placing the heavy bags down onto the ground. “We'll also bring you fresh tomatoes and strawberries from our garden regularly. I can even plant some of the seeds in your garden, so you don't run out of food.”

  Dianne was thankful, but her grandchildren and Amanda were on her mind, and their absence disallowed her to experience any relief or express any gratitude. “I wish they'd come back.”

  “So do I,” Benton said. “I tried going to the police, but with the power outage, there's not much they can do.”

  Dianne looked downward, starry-eyed. “Wherever they are, I'm sure it will all be okay. They'll come back.”

  * * * * *

  Amanda, Katie, and Stephanie had ran for over a mile without stopping, and then they had walked five additional miles after that. Now, they had decided it was time to stop and rest.

  “I think he's gone,” Katie said. She could feel her heartbeat thudding in her throat.

  But the absence of Bray did not mean they were in the clear. Amanda knew Jackson had left with the truck and that he could drive down that very same road that they were on at any minute. She would have to stay alert, and hopefully spot the truck before Jackson spotted them.

  The gravelly road was behind them now, and they were currently walking along a paved street, which meant they were getting closer to the nearest town.

  “How much further, mom?” Stephanie asked.

  “I don't know. I have to find out where we are.” She looked around, but saw more of the same; grassy fields. “Come on. Let's keep moving.” She tried to think of how long it took them to get from the city to the house of her captors.

  Sitting in the back of the truck at gunpoint with a blindfold on tended to make time go by slower than it really had. To her, it had felt like five hours, but in reality, she was fairly certain the ride to her captor's house had only been forty minutes or so.

  She was too lightheaded to think clearly, and her math skills were not great. But if the truck was averaging thirty miles an hour, it would mean they were approximately twenty-five miles away from home.

  * * * * *

  When they finally saw a house near the side of the road, Amanda walked up to the front door and knocked.

  But there was no answer, and since remaining idle gave the abductors more time to catch up to them, she decided it was best for them to keep walking.

  * * * * *

  When Jackson got home and received the news that the hostages had escaped, he went into a tantrum. He was full of rage, but even more so, he was terrified. “Bring extra ammo!” he shouted.

  Bray complied, holding a box of ammunition in one hand, and his rifle in the other.

  Then the three of them got into the truck and took off.

  Chapter Eleven

  Amanda finally recognized where they were when they reached the nearest town.

  The sign read:

  WELCOME TO

  HINGROVE

  They were still about seven miles away from their own town, and Amanda was determined to get home by sunset.

  The abductors had seen her driver's license, which contained her home address. In fact, they still had her purse, which meant they also had her keys. Of course, she didn't want to tell her children about that. She just hoped she could get home to warn Benton of the impending danger before it was too late.

  Even though they were in a somewhat populous town, she didn't see a whole lot of people walking around. Most people were at home, trying to stay out of the dangerous streets.

  The few people she did see were unable to offer much help. They had no functioning phones or cars. All they could tell her was that the nearest police station was three miles west of where they currently were.

  But traveling three miles west would take them out of their way. They didn't have time to travel that far out of their way, especially when they didn't even know if the police station was even tending to criminal matters. With the EMP, it wouldn't have surprised her if the police decided to close down the station altogether, so they could go home and be with their families.

  As the walking became unbearable, they sat down at a park bench. It wasn't as hot outside as it had been a few days earlier, but after being tied to a chair for so many consecutive hours, the long walk was plentifully strenuous.

  Amanda had been trying to stick to the side streets, so the abductors—who were likely taking the main roads—would be less likely to spot them.

  She continued to sit there tensely, and when she heard the sound of a vehicle approaching, her pulse began to race. But as the dark blue vehicle rounded the corner, she saw that it was not the truck she was thinking of.

  “Can't we call dad to pick us up?” Stephanie asked.

  “I wish we could,” Amanda said. But there's a power outage, so most of the cars don't work. That's why I had to pull over to the side of the road when we were driving back home from Lizzy's house.”

  “But how come that one works?” Stephanie asked, pointing at the dark blue truck that was moving down the road.

  “Because it's an older vehicle. Nowadays, vehicles rely much more on electronics than they did many years ago.”

  Stephanie still looked confused.

  Katie didn't fully grasp the concept, either, although she understood it partially.

  “Come on,” Amanda said, standing up. “The sooner we get moving, the sooner we'll be home.”

  * * * * *

  As they rounded the corner of the next block, Amanda turned around and saw a vehicle heading towards them. She began to slow down, and then she stopped entirely, staring straight ahead. Katie remained oblivious, but Stephanie saw the same thing Amanda did, and then she stopped walking, as well.

  “Katie, wait,” Amanda said.

  The vehicle was a block and a half behind them, and from what Amanda and Stephanie could see, it appeared to be a red pickup truck.

  “This way,” Amanda sa
id, crossing the street.

  The truck sped up abruptly, and for a brief moment, Amanda made eye contact with the driver. Even though this was the first time she saw his face, she was nearly certain the driver was one of her abductors.

  Amanda and her two daughters made their way onto the next street. When she turned around and saw the rifle jutting out of the passenger's side window, she became certain the truck belonged to her abductors.

  “Hurry,” Amanda urged. She could hear the tires from the truck screeching wildly as it sped up and made a sharp turn.

  Stephanie began to fall behind, and by the time Amanda turned around to realize she had tripped and landed on the ground, she could see the truck emerging from around the corner.

  Now the truck was headed straight for Stephanie.

  “Come on,” Amanda said, helping Stephanie back up. She grabbed her by the wrist and felt her racing pulse. “Let's get out of the street.”

  Katie was already on the sidewalk, waiting for her mom and sister to catch up. Her eyes were wide and her heart was racing.

  “Keep running, Katie,” Amanda said. She stepped onto the sidewalk, still holding onto Stephanie's wrist.

  The three of them heard a prolonged screeching noise that seemed to get louder with every passing moment. It sent horrid chills down the back of their necks.

  “Don't look back,” Amanda shouted, raising her voice above the screeching sound that came from the tires. “Keep running.”

  The screeching sound reached its peak, and then it was followed by a thunderous crash.

  Amanda, Katie, and Stephanie didn't stop to look back until they reached the end of the street. It was there that they turned their heads and saw the smashed truck remaining idle on the far side of the road. It had crashed violently into a parked van.

  Based on the devastation of the vehicle alone, it looked unlikely that the passengers survived. The entire front end of the red truck had been crushed like a cube.

  The glass was shattered, and Amanda could see someone lying on the ground. Bray had been thrown through the windshield.

  “Wait here,” Amanda said. She jogged toward the truck. She knew she didn't want to do it. She didn't want to take the chance of one of them being alive and firing a gunshot at her up close. But she had to be certain they were dead.

  As she moved closer to the truck, it began to go up in flames. The accident had ruptured the fuel lines, and the gasoline had come into contact with the heat from the engine.

  She looked at Bray and saw that he had a very large gash on his head. He had been mortally wounded, and was more than likely dead already.

  The flames grew bigger, and then the truck became engulfed by fire.

  Amanda took another look at Bray's corpse, then backed away from the heat and rejoined her daughters.

  Chapter Twelve

  By the time sunset drew near, Benton decided to depart from Dianne's house, so he wouldn't have to walk home in the dark.

  He could hear gunshots going off in the distance, and when he reached the end of the street, he saw a man with a shotgun standing on top of the roof of his convenience store, determined to defend his place of business.

  Benton kept walking, trying to keep his distance from the hordes of riotous people that flooded the busy streets.

  He hurriedly made his way onto a two-way side street, and at the end of the block, he saw a group of people who looked similar to his family.

  He directed his gaze elsewhere, discouraged. He was tired of waiting so long for his family to come back, and the possibility of them not coming back at all was too much for him to take.

  In a way, he almost wanted to forget about them for now.

  Unable to resist, he looked at them again, and this time, he held his gaze. The next thing he saw was the small group rushing toward him, and as they drew closer, he realized it was indeed Amanda, Katie, and Stephanie.

  “Dad!” Stephanie and Katie both shouted, running ahead of Amanda.

  Benton stooped down and picked up Stephanie.

  “I missed you,” Stephanie said, overjoyed.

  Benton set Stephanie down and gave Katie a hug. Then he hugged Amanda, and the four of them were reunited.

  * * * * *

  They had made it half a block down the street when Amanda had begun to tell Benton what had happened.

  “So, your car died, and then after you pulled over to the side of the road, you were approached by a woman?”

  “Yeah, and she said she would help me get my car started. The next thing I knew . . .” She trailed off.

  “Did you get a look at their address before you escaped?”

  “Yes, but the three of them are all dead now, so we don't need to worry about them. They crashed their truck when they were trying to chase us. But we can stay at my mother's house until we can find out for sure that it's safe to go home. We can go to the police station tomorrow, and then they can check out the crash site.”

  There was more she wanted to tell Benton, but it would have to wait.

  Benton was carrying Stephanie, who had fallen asleep.

  The sun dissipated entirely, just as they approached their front steps.

  It was silent and dark again.

  Depletion

  An EMP Survival Thriller

  By Blaze Eastwood

  Text Copyright © 2017 Blaze Eastwood

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced

  in any form or by any means without the

  prior written permission of the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  More from Blaze Eastwood

  Chapter One

  Cole took no satisfaction in the fact that at least one hundred million people had died in the past five weeks, even though it allegedly meant there would be more resources to go around for the survivors.

  Although food and water sources throughout the world were dissipating, Cole remained optimistic. He believed there was always a way, no matter how large the issue was.

  Many others did not share the same magnanimity, and it was difficult to blame them. Things were worse than ever.

  As Cole gathered a few ripe tomatoes from his garden and placed them in a large bowl, he listened to the birds chirping cheerfully. But the cheerful sound was soon replaced by the harsh sound of someone shouting in the distance.

  He tilted his head and listened, and for a moment, he thought the voice sounded vaguely familiar.

  The July sun was shining brightly, beating upon the back of Cole's neck. There was something about the heat that usually made him not care as much about trouble. He assumed that was why so many people preferred saunas and hot tubs to ice baths. The heat almost had a way of melting away problems, at least temporarily.

  Domestic disputes were not uncommon in his town, and over the years, he had learned to ignore the loud arguments that often erupted in the alleys, streets, and sidewalks.

  But regardless of the heat, and how relaxing the sunshine might have seemed, he couldn't ignore the jarring shouting noises this time.

  Cole put down the bowl of tomatoes and walked to the front of the house, searching for the source of the sound.

  A man with a shotgun in his hand was standing across the street, yelling at Robert, Cole's fifty-year-old neighbor.

  “No! I tried!” the gunman shouted.

  Cole's eyes widened momentarily, and his heart began to palpitate alarmingly. Who is that gu
y? What's wrong with him?

  The man with the shotgun had his back to Cole, and he was waving one of his arms in the air as he shouted at Robert. He stepped off the sidewalk and onto Robert's front yard, bellowing with rage. For a moment, he tilted his head slightly, allowing Cole to catch a glimpse of the side of his face.

  From what he could see, Cole was fairly certain the man with the shotgun was Lane, a man in his mid-fifties who lived half a block down the street. He had helped manage a grocery store before the societal collapse, and was among the first group of people to see how heavily the food shelves were being hit when the EMP first took place.

  “No it isn't! I tried that!”

  The hysterical, high-pitched screaming made his voice nearly unrecognizable, though, and Cole couldn't say for sure whether or not it was Lane.

  “Now!” the loud voice shouted.

  Cole saw Robert warily extending his arms forward, palms facing outward. It was the kind of gesture a person often made when they were telling someone to calm down.

  The man raised the shotgun and pointed it at Robert. “Don't you dare tell me to calm down!” he shouted.

  A loaded handgun was sitting in Cole's house. But he figured by the time he retrieved it, Robert would likely be lying dead on the ground. He needed to intervene, and he needed to do it now.

  Robert briefly looked at Cole, then rapidly directed his gaze back to the man with the shotgun.

  The man with the shotgun tilted his head again, and now Cole was sure that it was Lane.

  Both of their voices grew louder as Cole jogged toward them.

  “It's not even worth it,” Robert said. “Put the gun down and we'll figure something out.”

  Cole arrived at the scene precariously. “Whoa. Lane, what's going on?”

  Lane didn't bother to turn around. He seemed perfectly content to keep his eyes fixed on the current target of his rage, staring at him almost meditatively.