Surviving The Collapse Super Boxset: EMP Post Apocalyptic Fiction

by J. S. Donovan

  “Where are we going?” Lisa asked.

  The fear in her voice broke Angela’s heart. She didn’t like leaving them in the dark, but the truth was that the answers just weren’t there. The only thing she was sure of was that things were going to get a whole lot worse before they got better.

  “I don’t know yet,” she answered. “But we won’t be staying here any longer.” She walked toward the door in haste, fueled by rage and sadness. “I’ll be right back,” she said, opening it. “I love you both.”

  She closed the door, wanting to scream into the parking lot below. Traffic beyond the hotel moved along at a steady pace. The air was still and the sun beamed from behind a passing cloud. The normality of the world before her was deceiving. Everyone was a potential target. She hated to admit it, but the terrorists were winning. She turned to the room next door and pounded on the door so hard that the bottom of her palm stung with pain.

  “Burke!” she shouted. “Open up!”

  “Come in!” he said.

  She opened the door to find him pacing his room, cell phone against his ear and the television on detailing the attacks.

  “We weren’t quick enough,” she said, walking in.

  He motioned her to close the door.

  “Thanks,” he said into the phone. “I’ll call you back once we find him.” He ended the call and then lowered the phone. She could see in his eyes that he was just as outraged as she was, though a little more composed. Angela couldn’t stop shaking.

  “That was Ed Erickson with the NSA. I’ve got an address now on Martinez.”

  “We should have left hours ago,” she said. “I told Drake about this and he wouldn’t listen. He said that the terror alert was enough. Apparently it wasn’t!”

  “Just calm down,” Burke said. “I’ve been working this since we got back. I can’t just find a man under government protection in a matter of minutes. It takes time.”

  “I understand,” Angela said with her voice shaking. Footage of crowds running from the Dallas explosion filled the screen. It was pure pandemonium. “I want to take the girls to wherever they have Martinez. At least they’ll be safe.”

  “They have him in a safe house. We can’t waltz in without a good reason. Also, I’ve been told that both of us on are the FBI’s radar. They’ve started connecting the dots.”

  Angela bit her lip with worry, pacing the room. “What would they possibly want with us at this point?”

  “You know very well. We’ve interfered with their investigation, and whether you like it or not, they’re not happy about it.”

  “I respectfully question their priorities,” Angela said. “My daughters are scared enough as it is. There has to be some way to get to Martinez without getting caught.”

  “Messenger pigeon might work,” Burke responded flippantly.

  Angela crossed her arms. “I’m serious”

  “So am I,” Burke said. “We have to get in contact with him. Wherever we call him from, they can track it. I have a few friends in high places, but they’re not going to be able to cover for us much longer.”

  “So we call him from the hotel and then get out of here,” she said.

  “If he answers.”

  Angela went right to the phone to make good on her word. She had his number memorized simply from trying to reach him so often during the past couple of days. She dialed the number and it went to voicemail. She looked at Burke and shook her head as he sighed in response.

  The unrelenting carnage remained on the television. The sound was muted, but it had no less impact on her. There were lines of ambulances outside the fairgrounds in San Antonio as paramedics tended what seemed like hundreds of injured people, bandaged and bloody, of all ages. ISIS was truly the most hideous monster on earth, in her opinion. Countless children’s lives had been cut short in an instant for no reason other than ISIS’s barbaric love of conquest.

  She hesitated as the voice mail notification beeped. Where would she even start? “Captain Martinez, please call me back immediately at this number.” She looked down and read the number taped on the phone. “505-260-9989. I’ll be waiting.”

  She hung up and looked over to Burke, who had his eyes on the television. “He’s going to call back,” she said. “I know it.”

  “If not, are you ready to go it alone on this thing?” Burke asked, staring at the screen.

  “We know the targets. And we’ve seen how the terrorists can thwart heightened security. Can’t you contact your people and tell them that the nuclear power plant is next?”

  “I did,” Burke said. “And they told me it’s one of hundreds of suspected targets. They’re doing the best they can, so they say.”

  “So we’ll go there. With or without Martinez.” She looked around, flustered, as the question of what to do with Chassity and Lisa reentered her mind. “My daughters will have to stay here. Chassity is old enough. It’s our only option.”

  Suddenly the phone rang, much to Angela’s surprise. She started for it, but Burke told her to wait. Her hand hovered over the receiver as she glared at him impatiently.

  “If that isn’t Martinez, you need to hang up.”

  Angela nodded and picked up the phone, waiting for whomever it was to speak first.

  “Hello?” a man’s voice said. It sounded like Martinez, but she wasn’t sure. He was talking quietly as though he had gone into some private place or another room to make the call. “Angela, is that you?”

  “Captain Martinez, yes,” she said.

  “How the hell are you?” he said, surprised. “Sorry I haven’t returned your calls yet. I’m in a tight situation. The Feds advised me to keep our cell phones off. Part of the whole protection thing, I guess. Gloria isn’t taking it too well.”

  “You got my message?” she asked. Burke approached her, listening.

  “Yeah. Just so happened that I snuck away to check my phone a minute ago. I’m in the bathroom now.”

  There were a million questions she wanted to ask him, but she didn’t have the time. But the first thing she needed to know would determine the next step of their plan.

  “Where are you?”

  “Some safe house,” he said, after a pause.

  “What state and city?”

  “Not far from Albuquerque. They moved us pretty fast. I heard something about Doug and your kids. Are they all right?”

  She was shocked that he hadn’t heard. Even more shocked that he was still in the same state. It was the best news she had received in what felt like a very long time.

  “We need to talk,” she said with urgency. “Is there somewhere you can meet us? Somewhere you won’t be tracked?”

  “Angela, what happened?” he said, detecting the frightened tone in her voice. “I can barely walk. Those bastards really messed me up good.”

  She had nearly forgotten the condition he had been in last time they saw each other. His battered, semi-conscious body was enough to demonstrate just how ISIS treated their prisoners. Burke leaned closer to Angela and made a signal with his fingers for her to wrap it up.

  “Before we meet, I have to ask you two questions,” she said. “Can you help me stop the terrorists, and can Gloria watch the girls while we do it?”

  Martinez took a breath, seemingly taken by surprise at the enormity of what she was requesting.

  “I-I don’t know. How do you plan on stopping them?”

  “I’m with someone we can trust. He helped me rescue Chassity and Lisa. But we can’t do this on our own. We need your help. And we need the help of your Outlaws.”

  “You need to tell me what’s going on,” he demanded.

  “Will you meet with us? That’s all I need to know. Then I’ll explain everything.”

  After a long sigh, Martinez continued. “It’ll be tough, but I’ll see what I can do. Where are you?”

  “Las Cruces,” she said. “And we’re on our way.” She thought of the time he had beckoned her to meet with him. The night before her world had
been torn apart. Now, she felt, he could repay the favor. “Know of any good diners we can meet at?” she asked, hoping to jog his memory.”

  “It’s going to take a few hours for you to get here. But I’ll tell you what. Meet me at The Frontier Café. It’s just outside Albuquerque, right off of I-25.”

  “Got it,” Angela said as Burke hovered over her with the look of an impatient father. “Thanks, Captain Martinez. You’re our last best hope.”

  “Not sure what you’re thanking me for yet, but I guess I’ll find out soon enough,” he said.

  She assured him that he would know everything soon and they said their good-byes. She then hung up the phone as Burke stepped away and went back to the television, turning it up. Apparently, there was a development.

  “So he’s good to go?” Burke asked, watching the screen.

  “Sounds like it,” Angela said. “I hope it pays off. We’re using valuable time even meeting up like this.”

  The reporter on the screen spoke with alarm. “ISIS has officially claimed responsibility for the Memorial Day massacres throughout Texas. In a prepared statement posted on a foreign website, the terrorist organization said the attacks were in retaliation for the mosque shooting early yesterday morning that claimed fourteen lives.”

  Burke turned to Angela, shaking his head. “Figures…” They knew, however, that the attacks had been planned long before there was a mosque shooting. ISIS reveled in manipulating the media.

  “The president is expected to speak shortly on the terrorist attacks as the Dallas and San Antonio areas continue to reel from the massive death toll and numerous injured. We go now live in San Antonio to Jake Johnson, who is at the scene of one of the two attacks.”

  Burke muted the television and tossed the remote on the bed. “ISIS will play this for all it’s worth. We’re looking at a major war on the horizon.”

  “If they get to that nuclear power plant, they’ll get everything they wanted,” Angela said. There had been no reports about attacks anywhere else in the country. Every attack seemed to focus on Texas. Perhaps their sleeper-cell network only extended so far. Angela walked to the door, feeling overwhelmed. There was no timetable to Asgar’s ordered strikes. They could happen anywhere at any time.

  “I’m getting Chassity and Lisa. We’ll leave now and explain everything to them on the road.”

  “Um… excuse me. Where are we going?” Burke asked.

  “Albuquerque,” Angela answered. “Place called The Frontier Café.” She left the room, telling Burke that they’d be in the car, not even waiting for a response.

  “My God, I just hope our plan works,” she said under her breath. She stopped at her door, hesitant to barge in with the news. The emotional state of her daughters had been tested in ways she couldn’t even imagine. Their innocence only made matters worse. They were strong girls who had proven themselves, but Angela still felt a fragility she had no intention of shattering.

  She slowly opened the door to find Chassity at the mirror getting ready and Lisa cuddling a pillow on the bed. The television had been turned back on but cartoons were playing, much to her relief.

  “We’re leaving now, girls.”

  “Did you figure it out?” Chassity said.

  “Yes,” she said, giving them the same answer as before. “You’re going someplace safe.”

  From a new location, Salah Asgar watched the news reports with intense pleasure. He had estimated that out of the five planned attacks, only one would likely be successful. But he was ecstatic to learn that two targets had been hit.

  He slapped his hands together in joy as Bosra stood nearby, armed and ready. A bald, mustached man with a dark complexion entered the living room, carrying a tray with toasted bread and tea.

  “Here you are, my leader,” he said, setting the tray down on the coffee table of the clean, spacious room.

  “Thank you, Farid. You have a lovely home here.”

  The man bowed. “Thank you. It is my pleasure to have you here.” He turned to leave, when Asgar called him back. “Sit,” he said, patting the space on the couch next to him. “Join me in the celebration.”

  Farid nervously signaled to the kitchen outside the room. “My wife. She’s going to be home soon with our boys. I just need keep watch.”

  Asgar smiled and took a bite of fresh bread. “Farid. You mean to tell me you haven’t told your wife of our strong relationship? You are one our few operatives who is have employed by the U.S. government. You should be proud that you’ve made it this far. She should be proud.”

  Farid flashed a smile and nodded. “I regret to inform you that I have not told her any of that.”

  Asgar swallowed and took a sip of hot tea. “Do you trust her?”

  “Of course…”

  Asgar shrugged. “Then I don’t see what the problem is. Tell her that you are a spy for ISIS. That your job as a county health inspector is just one part of our plan to embed recruits in all levels of government.” He took another bite of bread, chewing with his mouth open. “You tell her this and see what she says.”

  Farid nodded again, perhaps too eagerly. “Yes… you are correct as always.”

  Asgar again patted the seat next to him. “Now sit! And do not worry about your wife. I will not blow your cover. You’re entertaining friends.”

  Farid tried to smile and then turned to Bosra, whose loaded rifle didn’t exactly confirm that impression. Asgar turned as well and waved him off. “Ah, don’t worry about Bosra. He can be good when he has to. Even polite sometimes.”

  Farid had no choice but to take a seat. Asgar’s hasty arrival had been unexpected, and their host had no idea when they were planning on leaving. Asgar’s eyes gazed at the television with pride. He tore off a piece of bread and handed it to Farid, who took it. The news showed a giant smoking crater within the San Antonio fairgrounds. Charred grass seemed to engulf the entire field.

  “You see, my friend,” Asgar began. “Five trucks cannot strike five targets in this country. Back home, we could do it anywhere we wanted.” He then raised his long index finger. “But one out of five trucks can hit their target. The key is to bombard these Americans into submission. They are not invincible, though they often think they are. Showing them that they are within reach of ISIS is the greatest satisfaction I’ve ever known.”

  Farid cleared his throat, seemingly taking issue with Asgar’s confidence. “But, my leader. Qaseem was captured. He knows our names. The Americans will torture him to get all the information they can.”

  “Qaseem will not talk. Had they all been captured, I’m confident that they wouldn’t tell the Americans a thing.” Asgar paused, predicting Farid’s follow-up question. “How do I know this? Because. I shaped them into fighters. Talking to the Americans would be a fate worse than death. Understand?”

  “Yes, my leader,” Farid said, leaving it at that.

  “As we move forward, we have to trust each other. You and I. I won’t be here long, but I need a place to coordinate our next attack. It will be the final strike against this state. Then, when the dust has settled, and the Americans wage war on our fighters in the homeland, we move to another state and organize a militant force unlike anything seen before. I don’t care if it takes one hundred years. The great Satan will be brought to its knees.” Asgar leaned forward and grabbed another piece of toast, finished with talking. He listened to the ongoing reports with a beaming face, satisfied.

  7

  Closing Time

  The Frontier Café was abuzz with customers amid the late afternoon rush. Angela sat in a booth with her daughters and Burke, waiting for Martinez to show up. They had traveled far, leaving the hotel behind, with no guarantee that Martinez would actually arrive. It was a risky endeavor, but their options were few. Texas was in an unprecedented state of emergency.

  The president had vowed that ISIS would be brought to justice, but no formal declarations of war had been made from either Congress or his administration. Authorities from all
over the country had descended on the state to join the hunt for the terrorists. So far, they hadn’t made any arrests. In the time since the attacks, things had quickly spiraled out of control.

  Civil unrest had reached a tipping point. Families were fleeing cities in droves, heading out of state. Curfews had been issued. The National Guard had been deployed to some of the most populated cities—Dallas, Austin, San Antonio—to maintain law and order. And it wasn’t long before the governor had declared martial law. Ideally, Angela would want to stay as far away from Texas as possible. It was something she felt they had to do. Asgar was still out there, and he had to be stopped.

  The anxious air of the café was evident. The uneasiness among the patrons was inescapable. Any place was a potential target. Anyone was a potential terrorist.

  It had been a long drive, and everyone was hungry. Angela ordered spaghetti and meatballs for Lisa and a chicken sandwich for Chassity. Burke ordered a T-bone steak. Angela wasn’t sure what she wanted. Her stomach had been in knots for days. She tried to put on as normal a face as possible as the waitress took the order and left. Lisa mentioned missing her father. Chassity too. No one could yet believe that he was really gone.

  “You think this guy is going to show up anytime soon?” Burke asked, looking at his cell phone.

  “I trust him. He’ll be here,” Angela said. She was sitting between her daughters, Burke across from them, sipping his iced tea.

  “Mom, who are we waiting for?” Chassity asked.

  “A friend. My partner, Captain Martinez.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Because we’ve got some work to do. And you guys will be staying with his wife, Gloria. They have two boys about your age too. You guys should get along just fine.”

  “I know. You told us that,” Chassity said. “But we don’t want to stay with them. We want to go home.”

  A waitress soon came with their food as Angela tried to mask her growing worry. Martinez was supposed to meet them at 5:00 p.m., and it was already 5:15. There had been no call or text, and Burke was getting antsy.