After the EMP (Book 2): Darkness Grows

by Harley Tate

  “What are you doing?”

  “Seeing what they’re after.”

  Drew braced himself in the seat, slinking down to hide most of his body beneath the window.

  The bike came up even with the driver’s side, the red and black body dented and scraped. Walter couldn't make out any features of the driver. The black visor of the helmet blocked his view.

  “Walter!”

  “What?” Walter snapped his gaze away.

  “The Harley has a gun!”

  Walter glanced up at the rear view. Crap. While he’d been distracted by the street bike, the other driver had pulled out a shotgun and aimed it at the car. With a clear road behind them, the Harley driver had a clear shot.

  Walter squeezed the steering wheel. “I’d duck, if I were you.”

  Drew crouched down in the seat, clutching the console like it would somehow protect him.

  The first shot went wide, hitting the passenger-side mirror and splintering it in a million pieces. Drew jumped. “They’re shooting at us!”

  “Yes, they are.” Walter flicked his gaze back and forth between the motorcycle next to him, the one behind them, and the road in front. It was too much. He clipped a tipped-over fridge and the car lurched to the left, coming within a foot of the motorcycle.

  The driver swerved and kept the bike upright, but it gave Walter an idea. A tipped car sat on its side about two blocks ahead, debris and wreckage strewn all around it. “How far are we from the highway?”

  Drew rose up enough to catch the street sign as they passed. “Less than a mile.”

  “Hold on.” Walter headed straight for the wrecked car and punched the accelerator.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Increasing our odds.” He glanced at the street bike next to him. Good luck staying on, buddy. As the little Jetta picked up speed, Walter angled away from the debris as if he were trying to avoid it. The motorcycle stayed by his side as the driver leaned over, concentrating on keeping up.

  That’s it. Stay with me. One block passed in a blur. The car sat a hundred yards away. Seventy-five. Fifty. Walter gripped the steering wheel. He’d need to time it just right. Twenty-five.

  He darted around the worst of the large debris—a fender or side wall—and resumed course. Fifteen yards. Ten.

  Walter sucked in a breath and swerved, aiming the driver’s side of the Jetta right for the tipped-over car. The driver of the street racer rose up and tried to turn, but it was too late.

  “You’re gonna hit it!” Drew screamed as Walter kept the wheel steady. “We’re gonna—”

  At the last second, Walter cranked the wheel, clipping the front bumper of the wreck, but not hitting it full-on. The motorcycle rider wasn’t so lucky. As he tried to dodge the car by leaning far to the left, his tires lost their grip on the road.

  The motorcycle skidded along the pavement, driver still clutching the handlebars, body twisted for the turn. Walter looked away at impact. He didn’t need to watch to know the man would never survive.

  The wrecked car wobbled in the rear view, tilting back and forth until it crashed onto the ground. The Harley slowed, stopping at the site of the crash.

  Drew eased up from his crouch near the floorboards and looked out the rear window. “Holy shit, you did it!”

  Walter exhaled. It wasn’t exactly like flying a plane, but it was as close as he’d get for a good long while. As his heart rate slowed, he saw the on-ramp to the freeway ahead. An Army vehicle sat on the inbound ramp, and from their distance, Walter could barely make out men milling about.

  The defensive perimeter.

  He glanced at Drew. “You up for one more race?”

  Drew groaned. “Do I have a choice?”

  “Nope.” Walter punched the gas again, not bothering to look at how much fuel his evasive maneuvers cost. They were getting out of downtown in a vehicle, no matter what.

  A group of guardsmen dragged a chain-link fence into position on the highway ramp, tying it into a section of fence just beyond. The gap was closing. Walter increased their speed.

  He closed the distance between them and the soldiers in seconds. A group of them stopped at his approach, some reaching for their weapons, others merely staring, mouths open. He rolled down the window and stuck out his hand in a wave as they blew past the crowd.

  No one fired. Walter darted under the overpass and onto the frontage road running alongside the opposite side of the highway. They were out of downtown. They were free.

  He slowed the vehicle to a safe speed. With any luck, he’d be hugging his wife and daughter soon.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  TRACY

  Sloane Residence

  7:30 a.m.

  “Just a little while longer, mamma. I’m so tired.” Tracy rolled over and tried to tug the covers up on her little twin bed.

  “Mom, it’s me, Madison. You’re dreaming. You need to wake up.”

  Tracy frowned in her sleep. “Go away. I want to sleep.”

  “No. Please wake up.”

  After a minute or two of constant shaking and talking at her, Tracy finally blinked an eye open. “Madison? What’s going on?”

  “You were asleep.”

  Tracy sat up, but the pounding in her head and hand made her wince and falter.

  Madison rushed in to keep her from falling back over. “Easy. I’ve got you.”

  “My head is killing me.”

  “What about your hand?”

  Tracy squinted and tried to focus on her burn, but the pain her head made it difficult. “It hurts, too.”

  Madison reached for Tracy’s injured hand and she held it out. Her daughter examined it. “You need antibiotics and some painkillers.”

  “Do we have any?”

  “No. We lost it all in the fire.”

  Tracy groaned. She couldn’t help the kids in this state.

  “Excuse me, Madison?”

  Tracy tried to stand up, but her daughter touched her shoulder to tell her no. “Who is that?”

  “Penny from across the street. Hold on.”

  Madison stepped away and Tracy tried to get it together. Her daughter and friends needed her coherent and functional, not discombobulated and worthless. She scooted forward on the seat and a wave of nausea gripped her.

  Tracy leaned back until it subsided, forced to do nothing but keep still.

  A few minutes later, Madison returned. She handed her an open bottle of water and Tracy took a sip.

  “What did Penny want?”

  Madison smiled. “To help, actually. She brought you some Advil and antibiotics. She said they’re expired, but they might still work.” Madison held up the little brown bottle. “Said they gave her hives so she quit taking them after only two days.”

  Tracy held out her good hand and Madison put two pills in her palm. “Better than nothing.”

  After Tracy swallowed the pain pills and the antibiotics, she eased back onto the seat. “Give me a few minutes, okay?”

  Madison nodded. “Sure thing. We’re going to check the house for anything salvageable. Just yell if you need anything.”

  Tracy nodded and closed her eyes. Everything had gone so terribly wrong. After all she had been through, getting supplies, picking up Wanda, stealing the little Nissan. And someone had to ruin it.

  She pried an eye open and glanced at the still-smoldering remains of her house. They would have to leave.

  The thought sent a new wave of nausea up her throat and Tracy worked to hold it down. Walter was out there somewhere. She could feel it in her heart and bones. Her husband was out there in the chaos, trying to get home.

  But when he got there, they would be gone. He would show up to an empty, burned-out house, and think the worst. If only there were some way they could stay. If only the house hadn’t burned all the way to the ground or they hadn’t captured that man to begin with or…

  Tracy shook her head. She could run through a million different what-ifs but it wouldn’t chang
e the facts. They had to move on.

  She leaned back and closed her eyes. All she needed was a few minutes more rest.

  2:00 p.m.

  Tracy blinked her eyes open. She was still in the same place as that morning, sitting in the passenger side of the Nissan, burned hand lying palm-up in her lap. She glanced at her watch. Two in the afternoon? Did I sleep all day?

  She pushed the door open and swung her legs out of the car.

  “Mom! Hold on! Don’t try to stand up.”

  Tracy scoffed as her daughter ran over. “Don’t be silly. I’m fine.” She pushed herself up to stand as Madison stuttered to a stop in front of her.

  “Are you feeling better?”

  Tracy nodded. “Whatever Penny gave me seems to be working.”

  Her daughter exhaled in relief. “Thank goodness. I didn’t know what we were going to do if you didn’t get better.”

  “Where is everyone?”

  “Tucker is charging his solar panels. He spent the morning hooking up all his computer equipment and trying to find a trace of the internet or a radio station or anything out there somewhere.”

  “Any luck?”

  “Nope.”

  Tracy nodded. It was what she had come to accept. There wasn’t a reset button for this kind of disaster. “How about Brianna and Peyton?”

  “Brianna gathered all the guns and ammo and set about organizing it all. Now we know what we have and she fashioned little ammo sacks out of one of her T-shirts so we can sync up the right gun with the right ammunition.”

  “Good.”

  “Peyton and I are searching the house. We found some cans in the master that survived and a few things in the garage. That’s about it.”

  Tracy paused. She didn’t know how to bring up the obvious. “What about Wanda?”

  Her daughter glanced at the ground. “We left my bedroom alone. I couldn’t—” The tremor in Madison’s voice twisted Tracy’s insides. Wanda hadn’t been with them long, but she had become more than a boss, she had become a friend. Tracy held up her hand. “It’s okay. As soon as you are ready, we should head out.”

  Madison’s head popped up, her eyes wide and wet with unshed tears. “What do you mean?”

  Tracy glanced at the remains of her home. “We can’t stay here. Whoever set the fire might be coming back to finish the job. And we need shelter. Our cars aren’t big enough to hold our supplies and us forever.”

  Her daughter blinked quickly. “I’m sorry, Mom. It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t—”

  “Shush. It is not. You didn’t set the fire. You didn’t break into our house. What’s done is done. There’s no use dwelling on it. All we can do is move forward.”

  “What about Dad?”

  Tracy hesitated. “I’m going to talk to Penny and see if she’ll keep an eye out. If your father does show up, she can at least point him in the right direction.”

  Her daughter nodded and turned to go, but Tracy stopped her. “Madison?”

  “Yeah?” As she turned back around, Tracy smiled. Her daughter might be nineteen, but she still looked at her with the big, eager eyes of a child.

  “Your father will find us. I know it.”

  Madison nodded, but didn’t say anything else before turning away. Tracy knew her daughter’s hope was fading. But Tracy wasn’t giving up. Walter would find them eventually.

  She smoothed the hair off her face with her good hand and examined the burn for the first time with a level head. Based on the pain she experienced and the blistering without charring, it appeared to only be second-degree.

  Not that a second-degree burn couldn’t kill her if it got infected, but it could be worse. A third-degree burn would have meant she burned through all the layers of her skin and would have nerve damage and charring. She wouldn’t feel a thing because there wouldn’t be anything left.

  Never in her life was Tracy more thankful for excruciating pain. If she could keep the wound clean, it would heal in a few weeks. She just needed to pay attention.

  After drinking an entire bottle of water, Tracy found a scrap of paper and scribbled a note on it and shoved it in her pocket. Then she managed to pick up the case of water, balance it on her hip, and make her way across the street.

  Penny had always been a good friend. She remembered the cookies she brought over the very first day Tracy and Walter moved in. Butterscotch chocolate chip.

  She didn’t even have to knock, Penny opened the door with a smile. “Hi, Tracy.”

  “Hi, Penny. I wanted to thank you for the medicine.”

  “Is it helping?”

  “Yes. I want you to have this in return.” She twisted her hip and stuck out the case. “I’m afraid I can’t hand it to you, but you can take it.”

  The wrinkles around Penny’s eyes deepened. “I don’t want to take your water. You have so many more mouths to look after.”

  “Please take it. It’s the least I can offer.”

  After a moment, Penny reached out and took the case with a smile. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  After chatting for a few minutes, Tracy glanced back at the burned-out house. “We’re leaving in a few hours and I’m wondering if you can do me a favor.”

  “Anything.”

  “If you see Walter,” Tracy paused, trying to keep her voice even, “can you tell him we’re headed north to Truckee? I’ve written the address down.” She held out the scrap of paper. “Tell him we’re sticking to the side roads.”

  Penny took the piece of paper and nodded. “I’ll watch for him.”

  “Thank you.”

  Tracy said her goodbyes and made her way back across the street. There was still one more thing she needed to do before they left.

  As she kneeled outside of what remained of Madison’s bedroom, each one of the kids made their way over. She didn’t need to say a word; they knew. She spent a few minutes staring at the ashes, but Wanda’s bones couldn’t be seen. She didn’t know if the fire burned so hot there that they were gone, or if other debris covered them up. They didn’t have time to look.

  Madison reached out and squeezed her good hand and Tracy fought back tears.

  “Wanda was a good woman. She might not have been prepared for this new world, but she gave all that she had when asked. Thanks to her, we were able to defend ourselves, stock up on our supplies, and even take a shower.”

  Everyone gathered around smiled and laughed through the pain of loss.

  “Although she’s no longer with us, she won’t be forgotten.” Tracy said a silent prayer and reached out to touch the charred edge of the wall. Madison and the others did the same.

  “To Wanda and her sacrifice.”

  After a moment, Tracy stood. “All right everyone. Let’s pack up and move out while there’s still some daylight left.”

  Brianna, Tucker, and Peyton all headed toward the Wrangler. Madison stayed behind with Tracy.

  “Do you really think Dad will find us?”

  Tracy nodded. “I do. No matter where we go, he’ll be looking. He’s a survivor, honey, just like us.”

  Madison nodded. “Okay.” As they reached the Nissan, Madison turned around, peering into the wreckage.

  “What is it?”

  “I was hoping to spot Fireball, but I guess he didn’t make it out in time.”

  Tracy paused. She’d forgotten all about the little cat. She snuffed back a fresh wave of tears. “Maybe it’s for the best. I don’t know how we would have fed him, anyway.”

  Madison wiped at her eyes. “You’re probably right. But I could sure use a furry little hug right now.”

  Tracy reached out and squeezed her daughter’s arm. “So could I. Come on, let’s go.”

  They both slid into the car, Madison behind the wheel. The back seat was stuffed to the ceiling with what they had managed to salvage. It was a paltry amount compared to what they had before, but at least it was something.

  Brianna started the Jeep in front of them and Madi
son stuck her thumb up out the window. They moved off the curb and onto the road, one after the other. Tracy took one last look out the window, watching until the remains of her house disappeared from view.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  MADISON

  North of Sacramento, CA

  4:00 p.m.

  Trying to get out of Sacramento was like threading a camel through the eye of a needle. Every road out of town was either blocked with a multi-car accident or an endless stream of vehicles abandoned with no signs of drivers anywhere.

  It had been fine on little neighborhood streets, but the major roads were virtually impassable. Brianna’s Jeep could off-road around the worst of it, but the little Nissan hugged the ground and couldn’t even jump the curb. Every time Brianna went around something, Madison would honk and wave and Brianna would have to backtrack. Frustration ran high in both vehicles.

  After passing another clump of empty cars, Madison shook her head in amazement. “Where is everyone?”

  Her mom shrugged. “Who knows? My guess is most people ran out of gas and took off on foot.”

  Madison reached for the radio and clicked it on. She spun the dial, searching for anything other than endless static. After a few minutes of failure, she turned it off. “Do you think we’ll ever come back from this?”

  “The loss of power?”

  She nodded. “Think about all the things we took for granted. Food, water, heat and air.” She pointed at the radio. “Music and movies and the internet. Never in a million years would I have thought the world could be as quiet as it is now.”

  Her mom managed a wistful smile. “I miss the radio, too. All the songs we used to sing.” She turned in the passenger seat. “Do you remember when you were little and we would sing every Paul Simon song that came on?”

  “I loved Paul Simon.”

  “The whole reason we got the CD player for the Suburban was so you could listen to his greatest hits while riding back there in your car seat. I couldn’t see you—the car was so big and your seat faced the back—but I could hear your happy little voice belt out every word to Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes.”

  Madison choked back a sob. So many memories. So many things she took for granted. “Do you think it’s the whole country? If we drove to Seattle or Alaska, would it be better there?”