Surviving The Collapse Super Boxset: EMP Post Apocalyptic Fiction

by J. S. Donovan

  Harper pulled him close, making sure the others weren’t listening. “We just can’t. Church doesn’t want any new members. Supplies are too low as is.”

  “Well, two spots just opened up,” he retorted.

  Harper’s jaw dropped. “Don’t say that.” She pulled away from him and peeked out the window toward the empty street and brick-littered alley. “Keep your safety off. Shoot to kill.”

  The man’s name was Sawyer, Harper learned. His daughter was one of Eli’s high school classmates. They were annoyed that their hiding place had been compromised, Harper knew, but hid their contempt well. Without objection, they watched the stairs and back windows, keeping a closed dialogue Eli wished he were a part of. A heavy knot formed in Harper’s throat every time she looked at Sawyer and Karla and their skeletal frames. The man had worn a classy suit and tie in DC. Now his attire consisted of a thin jacket, torn and stained, a T-shirt with a tear at the armpit, roughed-up cargo pants, and scuffed boots. His daughter’s clothes weren’t much better. Cuteness had been replaced with a holey loose shirt and green capris worn for comfort, not style.

  Dustin perked up. He fired a few shots into the carless street, failing to hit the small group of runners rushing to the building. He cursed loudly as he fired a shot into the door they slipped inside. “Yeah! Keep running! Keep hiding!”

  “Pst!” Karla got their attention. Harper darted across the room and peeked out her window just in time to see another small group of people scurry into an alley. She took aim with her rifle and fired off a warning shot. The noise bounced off the buildings and scared away the crows. Their feathers blackened the skies.

  Eli fired his shotgun with a loud boom. He growled at himself and turned back to Harper. “We got more hiding on this side!”

  “Here, as well,” Sawyer said, barely peeking out the window frame.

  Suddenly, dozens of beastly howls bellowed into the sky. First from the east, then the north, and before long, the bays of wolves resonated throughout Briersville.

  “What the hell are they doing?” Dustin screamed over the primal cries.

  Harper check her few remaining shots. Her eyes bounced across her terrified comrades. “They’re surrounding us.”

  Sawyer grinned, his yellow teeth showing. “Sergeant’s right. They’re trying to scare us into submission.”

  “Everyone, calm down,” Harper told them. “When the opportunity arises, we get out.”

  “All of us?” Karla asked. “Or just your clique?”

  The howling intensified. It was a sound both man and animal, and echoed through the windows of the train museum. The thin auburn hairs on Harper’s neck stood straight. After a while, the beastly call dwindled. Harper and the others scanned the streets and saw no one. As they headed for the fire-escape window at the back, the howling rose up and gripped both them and Briersville.

  It wasn’t until sunset that Levi rose from his slumber. He grabbed at the brick wall and pulled himself up. Dragging against the building, he staggered from the alley. A red clump hardened on the side of his combed-over hair. His legs twisted over dozens of scattered bricks as he turned in confusion like a late-night drunkard.

  “H-Harper? Dustin?” he yelled.

  “He’s going to get shot,” Sawyer said nonchalantly.

  Harper pulled back from her window. “Do you have something reflective?”

  “Like a signal mirror?” Dustin asked. “No. No glass either.”

  “Use this.” Sawyer tossed her a church building from the train set. “For his salvation.”

  Biting her lip, Harper flung it from the window. It shattered into balsa-wood shards across the paved road. Levi turned his attention from the broken building to the second story of the train museum. Harper waved him down. Using his hands as a sun visor, the injured man squinted.

  A gunshot.

  Pebbles of asphalt erupted from the ground a foot from Levi. He jumped back. Another shot sounded. Miss. Levi turned to the alleyway. His foot slipped on a can of green beans, and his chin smacked against the ground. He scurried past the spilled supply cart. A door adjacent to the flower shop flung open. An arm reached out and yanked him in. It slammed shut before Harper could get a clear shot.

  Crash!

  Harper, Sawyer, and the rest of them turned their eyes to the floor.

  “They’re downstairs,” Harper whispered.

  Eli pointed his gun to the ground. Footsteps sounded on the wooden floors directly below them. Harper signaled Dustin, Eli, and Karla to keep an eye on the windows and joined Sawyer at the table gently anchored at the top of the stairs.

  Sweat rolled into Harper’s eye. She blinked out the stinging perspiration and kept her focus on the stairwell. Sawyer stood beside her. His hands and ribs rested against the table, ready to push.

  They waited for an eternity. Nothing happened.

  Harper pulled away from the table. “That’s it. We’re going.”

  “The supplies?” Eli asked. “Levi?”

  “As soon as it turns dark, they’re going to storm this place.” She turned to Sawyer. “Do you know a way out?”

  “I have a few ideas. But me and my daughter are coming with you.”

  Harper sized him up. “Don’t make me regret this.”

  Keeping close, they crawled down the fire escape. Harper laid down suppressing fire at the enemy’s windows while the others kicked down the ladder and dropped to the alley. Harper followed behind. As soon as they got to the back of the building, they spotted a half-dozen vagrants, who shouted and charged.

  “Go! Go! Go!” Harper turned them into a tight alley. They passed through an open door to a gift shop and pushed over a shelf of china in front of the path. Vagrants on rooftops bellowed out more wolf howls and tossed rocks and bricks that Harper and the others ducked and weaved. They didn’t waste time shooting. The sprint was all there was.

  The sun cast blood red over the clouds drifting off the distant Smoky Mountains. Sawyer led them through the rising and dipping streets, between buildings, and eventually to the residential area. The vagrants followed behind, but when Harper reached the edge of Briersville, the townspeople slowed to a halt and let Harper and the others escape into the woods.

  Sticky with sweat, they pulled the camo net off the Humvee. Harper got the back door for Eli and Karla. They slid inside, anxious.

  “You think they’ll chase us?” Eli asked.

  Harper shook her head. “No.” She closed the door.

  Sawyer climbed into the front seat. “Nice ride, Sergeant. I should’ve joined the army.”

  “I’ll get gunner,” Dustin said on his way to the gunner station.

  Harper grabbed his arm. “Drive.”

  “But--”

  “Get my son home,” she whispered to him. “Keep an eye on those two.”

  “I don’t--”

  “I’m not leaving Levi behind,” Harper stated, readying her gun, and headed back to Briersville.

  5

  Mission

  In the darkness of night, Harper followed the fire. Its warm glow danced across the walls of buildings and the Ford Mustang she covered behind. The metal lent its cool touch to the back of Harper’s tee. She steadied her breath, but her beating heart could not be tamed.

  Down the street, a massive bonfire blazed toward the stars. Wood crackled, and hot-tipped embers leapt out of the flames. The drably dressed people of Briersville sat around the source of living heat on diverse leather chairs and sofas snatched from different buildings. A beautiful woman lay across a couch and watched the fire. Her lover brushed her hair behind her. A gaggle of teenage boys sat cross-legged and bet large stacks of dollar bills over a game of Texas Hold ’Em. Nearby, Levi’s head slumped to the sidewalk. He was stripped to his underwear, and his hands were tucked behind his back and tied around the neck of a chipped lamppost. The Briersville Police Station loomed over him.

  Eleven hostiles, Harper counted. Her gun only had five shots, but frankly, shooting would be h
er last resort. Eli had begged her not to go, but Harper had marched on anyway. Her stubbornness had brought her back to the wolves’ den, and she promised herself that she wasn’t leaving without her abandoned ally. If not for the fire, she would’ve not found this part of town. They’re celebrating…

  “… They killed Annie good…”

  Harper froze at the voice. On the roof of the local bank next to her, two middle-aged men with generic hunting rifles stopped and shared a smoke.

  “Yep. Buckshot to the heart,” the other replied. “We got two at least.”

  One small glance meant the end of Harper. She kept still in the cold air and watched the men.

  “Wonder what Gretchen is going to do with the survivor?” The man took a drag and blew the smoke into the night.

  The other stole the cigarette away. “What she does to the rest of them. Learn then burn.” He took a final drag and examined the smoking butt with sorrow. “Boy, am I going to miss these.”

  With a flick, the glowing remnants of the cig tumbled through the air and landed a few yards from Harper. She rested the stock of her rifle on her shoulder and brought the iron sight over the man’s head. He and his companion turned and vanished to the other side of the bank’s roof. Harper lowered her weapon. She scurried between two buildings and beelined for the police station. A chain-link fence ended the alley. Harper slung the rifle over her shoulder and climbed up. Her fingers and boots used the diamond gaps to send her up and over. She toppled to the asphalt, landing with an involuntary grunt. Rising into a crouching position, she brushed herself off.

  Low light shone through the windows of the precinct, creating yellow squares on the adjacent building. Inside the fenced-in area, Harper hunkered beneath the police station’s windows. With a harsh scrape, the window to the old station opened. Harper paused.

  “Better,” a man said directly above her.

  “Miles,” a woman replied from deep within the room.

  “Now, you ain’t going to complain no more, right? Otherwise, I may have to cuff you,” the man’s voice trailed as he headed away from the window. The woman giggled playfully.

  Harper moved up to the front of the building. Another chain-link fence separated the tight alley from the bonfire. Levi wasn’t far from the other side. His head was positioned to the blaze. She could see the zip ties that bound his hands. Getting up and over the fence and cutting him free would be easy. It was the escape that scared Harper.

  Doors opened. Figures approached Levi. Harper hid in the shadows with watchful green eyes.

  The crazed woman who threw the first brick earlier today stopped before Levi, but no bloody hole caved in her chest, and her gray hair was buzzed into a Caesar cut. Two brutish men with muscular biceps, tight muscle shirts, and machetes tucked in their belts flanked her on both sides. The one with a cleft palate lifted Levi up by his neck until the captive barely stood on his tippy-toes. Gagging, the bearded prisoner struggled to pull free. The brute’s fist drilled into Levi’s stomach.

  “That’s enough, Roy,” the woman said.

  “Yes, Miss Gretchen.” The brute loosened his hardy grip from Levi’s neck and stepped back.

  Gretchen, only three inches over five feet, looked like a midget compared to six-foot-something Levi. Nonetheless, she glared up at him like a hardened war chief. “I gave Blondie what he asked for, and still he sends you in to steal more.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Levi said hoarsely. “We made a mistake coming here. We never meant to hurt anyone. We were just after food.”

  “Maybe you're telling the truth.” The woman grabbed his mouth and turned his head to study his eyes. “Maybe I should be thanking you. You killed my thieving sister, after all. Found her hidden stash, too. You know how many intruders we had to rob and kill for that stuff? Lots. Blondie took most of it, and Annie stole away the rest. From the look in your eyes, I don’t think you care. No. You want to go home. Tell me, handsome stranger. Where is home?”

  Levi shook his head. He spoke through her tight grasp. “I-I don’t have one. I’m a wanderer.”

  “Shame.” The woman released his cheeks and backed away. She nodded to the thugs. The two brutes beat him while the woman watched with cold eyes. The well-groomed bearded man twisted and turned with every strike. As his body slid down the post, they’d lift him up again and continue clubbing him.

  Harper’s stomach churned at every meat-tenderizing punch. Each time Levi lied, they hit him harder.

  “Where did your friends go?” the woman yelled.

  “I don’t know!” Levi’s red spit dangled from his busted lips and slathered his steely beard.

  More jabs in the torso and face. Levi spit out a tooth. The second brute turned to the woman after every solid blow, silently requesting reprieve. Nonetheless, the woman kept them going until Levi sunk to the bottom of the lamppost like a limp sack of potatoes.

  Roy and the other enforcer let out wolflike cries to the crescent moon. The others around the fire joined them, followed by the guards on the surrounding rooftops and those far from sight. After the bays died off, the woman spat on Levi, cursed him, and marched away with her two massive lackeys.

  The bearded carpenter’s bruised and bloody body slouched at the bottom of the pole. The final hit had sent him ear-side to Harper on the other side of the fence. Blood from the brick wound on the side of his skull caked onto his graying hair. Purple bruises and swelling caused his bleeding lips to puff out and his eyes to close over.

  “Levi?” Harper whispered, completely unsure if she was speaking to a corpse.

  A chilling breeze stroked the fire. Levi’s finger twitched. Harper called his name again, and he lifted his neck. His nearly flesh-sealed pupils looked nowhere in particular. Gasping words and spit seeped from his fat lips. “The… station.”

  Staying in the shadow, Harper pressed herself against the fence. “What?”

  “The supplies…” His voice wavered. “In station. Get… them.”

  An ugly man with a potbelly and a beer-stained shirt walked over to Levi. “Who you talking to?”

  His eyes, a little too far apart, scanned the alleyway. After a moment, he backed away and rammed his sneaker into Levi’s gut. The prisoner let out a grunt. Satisfied with himself, the man returned to the fire.

  Harper pulled herself from the shadows and headed for the precinct’s open window. Candles lined the windowsill, and the two lovers had gone. Harper pinched out the flames and crawled into the detective’s office. The door creaked open. More candles burned away on the various desks of the bullpen. Tears of wax splattered on the ground in multicolored puddles. The computers and corded phones collected dust. Most files fed the fire.

  Not taking chances, Harper moved from desk to desk in a fixed crouching position. Her boots clacked lightly, but she managed to not scuff against the cold tiles. Murmurs echoed down a nearby hall. Harper hunched beneath a desk and let the strangers pass. They pulled opened a nearby drawer, taking out a bottle of whiskey, and each took a swig. After they’d left, Harper followed the signs to the prisoner holding hall. A few small patrols wandered around the police station, but none seemed too concerned about an attack.

  Before long, Harper reached the holding cells. As she’d expected, the stacks and flowerpots full of supplies stood in tall leaning towers on the other side of the locked prison bars. They were still on the flat cart. Their lack of organization made the cataloguing side of Harper cringe. Her hands wrapped around the bars, and she yanked. Locked. After giving the supplies a final look of longing, she returned down the hall and headed for the lieutenant’s office.

  Moving through the police station sparked old memories of her and James being arrested for disorderly conduct. Back then, she’d thought they’d be the next Bonnie and Clyde. Her late teens and early twenties had consisted of a series of follies: running away from home, petty theft, and getting a buzz any way possible. It wasn’t until her father threatened to call child services th
at Harper turned her life around and made her two-year-old son her focus. She remembered hating her father for a long time, even after he died of heart failure a few years later. Now, she wished he were here to grandfather Eli.

  The office blinds were closed, but light spilled out from under the bottom of the door. Harper’s palms ached under the rifle’s weight. Her arm muscles were taut, and the day’s hunger had caught up with her. After scanning the hall painted with the Briersville Police insignia, she moved silently toward the door. Only feet from it, she heard the metallic knob jiggle. Muffled voices leaked from the other side. Harper sprinted to the receptionist’s desk. Rifle in one hand and resting on her shoulder, she planted her free palm on the u-shaped desktop and vaulted over just as the door opened. Her bottom hit the ground hard, sending a burst of throbbing pain up her tailbone. Various old papers fell with her like fall leaves.

  “Don’t take too long!” Gretchen shouted.

  Two massive brutes marched past the desk, their machetes pattering lightly against their bulky thighs. The far double doors opened to the blazing bonfire and then fell closed. Harper took a deep breath. She winced as she scooted across the floor and peered around the side of the desk.

  The lieutenant’s office door was wide open. Gretchen twisted side to side in her black leather chair. She faced the outside window, opposite the front the door. Quietly, Harper flipped the rifle around. Her fingers wrapped around the barrel. She slowly approached the woman with her makeshift club. With cautious steps, she passed over the threshold. Police awards and photographs of an unfamiliar male police chief hung on the walls. Just on the other side of the fine desk, Gretchen’s stony gaze locked on the small font of a novel. She dampened her finger and thumb on the tip of her tongue and turned the page. A fat key ring, a large burning candle, and a stack of books rested on the desk’s flat surface.

  Harper stayed low, avoiding the creation of any unwanted shadows. She reached a hand across the desk. The icy metal of the keys kissed her fingertips. A light chime sounded as Harper lifted the fist-sized bundle. She stopped. Gretchen turned another page. Harper lifted the keys another half an inch. Metal scraped wood. Harper’s chest ached, and sweat soaked her already moist hands. Another inch. The keys on the lower portion dragged against the wood. Gretchen froze. So did Harper. The older woman reached down with her hand. Harper raised the keys. A jingle.