Surviving The Collapse Super Boxset: EMP Post Apocalyptic Fiction

by J. S. Donovan

  Burke parked his car beside a dock that ran far out into the lake. The Outlaws parked behind him and shut off their engines.

  Burke turned to Angela, satisfied with the location. “Let’s find out what this guy knows.” He put his gloves on and opened the door. Angela knew the chilling routine by now. Whenever the gloves went on, someone usually died.

  She didn’t like to see a person suffer, regardless of his affiliation, but whenever she thought of Doug and his brutal murder at the hands of ISIS, she was less inclined to object to whatever Burke had in mind.

  “My legs are killing me,” Martinez said from the back seat. “Whatever you have to do, go at it. I couldn’t walk if I wanted to.”

  She turned to him with a sympathetic look. “That’s fine,” she said with a sense of relief. “Just take it easy.”

  He looked barely able to crack a smile, but he tried anyway. “Quite a scene back there…”

  “It was, but it will be all over soon,” Angela said. She then gently touched his leg. “Thank you for helping us. We couldn’t have done this without you.”

  Martinez waved her off. “Ah. I just made some phone calls. You guys are doing most of the work.”

  Burke’s shadow passed behind the car as Angela opened her door and stepped out. The Outlaws exited their vehicles, stretching, and then gathered near the dock as Hendrickson pushed along their disheveled captive. The man’s hands were tied behind his back, his sweat-soaked face stricken with fear.

  Hendrickson gave him another push as the Outlaws circled around him. Unseen crickets droned on in the background as the lake quietly rippled. Burke pushed his way through and got within inches of the man, staring him down.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  The man’s eyes shifted downward, but he didn’t answer. Burke then asked the same question in Arabic.

  “Ibrahim,” the frightened driver said.

  Burke asked the man if he spoke English. At first Ibrahim hesitated, shaking his head. Burke suddenly put the barrel of his pistol against the man’s forehead.

  “Are you sure?” Burke asked.

  “Okay! I know English. What do you want from me!” he shouted in a shaky voice.

  Burke turned to the crowd. “Excellent. That should make this easier for us all.” He lowered his pistol and got within inches of Ibrahim’s face. “Your boss. We want to know where he is, and you’re going to tell us.” Burke made it sound as though their captive had no choice. That was, of course, part of his tactic, but if Ibrahim refused, it would only be a matter of time before his resistance was tested in unimaginable ways.

  Angela stood cautiously to the side, hoping that whatever they did would garner the proper results quickly and in time. Each jihadi they had encountered was stubborn and proud up to a point. It was no satisfaction to her, seeing them break.

  “Where is Asgar?” Burke asked pointblank, amid murmurs from the crowd. “You tell us where we can find him, and you will live. Don’t tell us, and my friends here will rip you to shreds.”

  Ibrahim looked around nervously. He was a short man with a long, thick beard that reached down to his chest. He spoke softly and with an air of politeness. “I do not know. We got our orders and acted on them accordingly. Mr. Asgar is a secretive man. I’ve never met him, nor has he ever given us any knowledge of his location.”

  Burke stared their captive down, amused. “Really, now?” He took a step back and scanned the hardened faces of the Outlaws surrounding them. “My friends and I don’t have a lot of time here. We’ve already taken out twenty or so of you bastards. What’s one more? So let me make this clear… You tell us where we can find your boss, or I step aside and let them have at it.”

  Ibrahim darted his head around trying to mask his terror. Hendrickson stepped forward and smacked him on the back of the head, to the cheers of the other Outlaws. “Better speak up, Ibrahim.”

  The group started chanting, all riled up. Angela stepped forward and put a hand on Burke’s shoulder. He turned, surprised to see her. “Let me talk to him,” she said.

  Burke hesitated for a moment and then nodded. “You have something special in mind?” he asked.

  “Just a few words,” she said. Burke moved aside as she stepped inches from Ibrahim, studying him. He was clearly frightened, bottled up even. She understood his predicament. If he talked, the terrorists would kill him. If he didn’t, the Outlaws would. The important thing was to try to reach him somehow, convince him that Asgar’s cause was lost. That there was still hope for Ibrahim’s life if he would only cooperate. Though she knew any such approach held extreme challenges when dealing with the mind of a jihadist.

  “Listen to me, Ibrahim,” she said. “Everyone here wants you dead, despite what you may or may not know. Your leader had my husband murdered. The very man you pledge allegiance to cut his throat for no reason.” She paused and took a step even closer as his nervous eyes shifted. “Maybe you were there. Maybe you saw it yourself. Doug didn’t know Salah Asgar. He wasn’t a part of any cause, but Asgar killed him, nonetheless.”

  She placed both hands on Ibrahim’s shoulders to the confusion of the surrounding group. “Let me avenge my husband’s death. It’s all I want. Does that not sound fair? I just want the chance. If Asgar wins, so be it. Can we not just let Allah’s will decide?”

  She removed her hands and stepped back. “Asgar wants this fight. We’ve caused so much trouble for him, that I can’t think he’d want more than anything to face us.” She paused, waiting for Ibrahim to respond.

  He looked at the ground, trying to gather his words. “I don’t know where he is,” he said. “Kill me if you must. There is nothing I can do to change that.”

  A roar rippled through the crowd as the Outlaws geared up to pulverize their captive, but Angela wasn’t done yet. “It will not be an easy death. You will suffer for hours on end.” She stopped and then leaned closer, getting right in his face. “I can only hold them back for so long. These people want to tear you apart. And for what? Salah Asgar? Would he do the same for you? For any of your men?”

  Ibrahim nodded and then launched into a diatribe all his own. “You really think you can scare me into talking?” He rotated his head, examining the crowd of vengeful faces surrounding him. “You think you have all the answers. I’m not concerned with this life. I serve Allah’s will so that I can go on to the next. That is my duty, and it is our duty as Muslims to deliver the caliphate to our enemies.”

  His conviction seemed impenetrable, but Angela persisted. “If that’s the case, take us to Asgar and let us be slaughtered like the infidels we are.”

  Ibrahim bowed his head, thinking to himself as Angela waited, both anxious and fearful of what he might say. After a long pause, he looked up and spoke, much to her relief. “He is not close. I can tell you that, and you are too late to stop him. He has a bomb so large that it will wipe out half of the country.”

  Gasps of disbelief surged through the group. Burke nearly leapt forward to try to pound the details out of him, but Angela held him back. She listened intently as Ibrahim told them where they could find Asgar. He had taken refuge in a factory in Wichita, a good hundred miles away from their current location. She only hoped that he was telling the truth.

  “Tell me more about this bomb,” she said. “Where did he get it?”

  Ibrahim shrugged. “Same way they get everything else into the country. We smuggled it right across your border.”

  “When does he plan to detonate this bomb?” Burke said, eyes wild. The fearful reality of their situation took control of the entire group. The power plant was worrisome enough. The bomb was a danger of apocalyptic proportions.

  “In the event of an unsuccessful power plant attack, Asgar will detonate the bomb in its current location,” Ibrahim said. He then looked down and glanced at his digital wristwatch, continuing in a mocking tone. “Looks like it’s about that time.”

  After a brief shocked pause, an enraged Hendrickson jumped forward an
d yanked Ibrahim back, pummeling him in the face as the other Outlaws cheered. Angela moved swiftly to intervene, trying to pull Hendrickson away, but his fists kept flying.

  “You rotten son of a bitch!” he shouted, delivering blow after blow to Ibrahim’s face. “I’ll kill you right here!”

  “No!” Angela shouted. From behind him, she swung her arms around Hendrickson’s back and pulled her hardest, but it did no good. When she let go, he was laughing.

  Burke suddenly swooped in and locked his arm around Hendrickson’s throat in a chokehold. He pulled the gasping beast of a man away as the Outlaws murmured in disapproval. Angela dropped to her knees to help their battered captive as he groaned from the wet sand at the lake’s edge. She helped him up just as Burke released Hendrickson—who was dangerously irate.

  “What the hell’s wrong with you?” Burke shouted to Hendrickson. “Did he give us an address yet? No he didn’t! You go beating on him, we get squat, and everyone dies!”

  Hendrickson leaned down against his knees, gasping for air. “Fuck you…” he said in a raspy voice. He rose and walked out of the circle just as some Outlaws parted for him to pass. “Fuck all of you.”

  Burke walked over to Angela and helped her lift Ibrahim up on his feet. “Is he okay?” he said.

  “A bit dazed. Pretty banged up, but he should be okay,” she answered.

  “He rides with us from now on,” Burke said. He then turned to the Outlaws, their eyes narrowed and fists balled. “Are we going to fight over this shit now, or are we going to stop this madman before he commits the greatest mass murder in American history?”

  They didn’t respond, but Burke’s biting words seemed to simmer them down. “We go to Wichita tonight. Now. And we take this man down once and for all. It’s the only way.”

  Angela continued to hold Ibrahim up with an arm around his shoulder as he wobbled and groaned.

  “Who’s with us?” Burke said, looking around at the silent faces. “Damn it! Who’s with us?”

  “I am,” Hendrickson said, reentering the circle. “We all are. So let’s move.”

  Burke looked around the circle, seemingly satisfied. Their captive was badly injured, they didn’t have the best information to go on, and they still had a long way to travel, but somehow, some way, they had to try to commandeer the bomb, despite the impossible odds against them.

  12

  Beginning of the End

  After traveling a series of lengthy backroads and avoiding the highway at all costs, they arrived in Wichita Falls around midnight. Ibrahim rode in the back seat with Martinez, who wasn’t surprised to hear that Hendrickson had lashed out and roughed him up. The Outlaws were an unpredictable bunch and prone to violence. But that is exactly why, at the time, they were needed.

  Their entourage passed several old-style farm homes and open fields, quiet and unassuming. The stillness in the air was deceiving. Not far from where they were, Asgar was planning to unleash his last desperate move upon the country. And just as with the power plant, Angela didn’t know if they’d get there in time.

  For his part, Ibrahim stayed true to his word. Though badly beaten, he told them the directions. The truth had come out. He was very familiar with location—in stark contrast to his earlier claim to have no idea. The warehouse, he explained, was now the sleeper cell’s safest and most secure operations center after losing a series of safe houses through secretive drone strikes just the other day.

  Down a long winding road, they came to a narrow dirt track on their right, black as night, and surrounded by forest on both sides. Burke slowed to a halt before turning, examining the shady-looking path. “You better not be taking us into some kind of trap,” he told Ibrahim.

  “The warehouse is right down there. But this is about as close as you should get,” Ibrahim said in a pained voice. He had a fat lip and his cheeks were swollen. There was no reason to trust him, but he didn’t seem to think he had anything left to lose. That made him somewhat believable in Angela’s eyes. Burke turned onto the dirt road as Ibrahim offered a fair warning.

  “You drive too far down this path and they will see your headlights. Not that I care either way,” he said.

  Martinez leaned forward nervously, as the car dipped along a groove in the road. “Then we should stop here. Hell, they’ll see us coming a mile away.”

  Both Ibrahim and Martinez had a point. They’d have to play it smart. Burke turned his head toward Ibrahim. “You sure this is the place? Absolutely sure?”

  “Yes,” Ibrahim replied. “About a mile down the road you will find the warehouse. Heavily guarded and secure.”

  The headlights from Hendrickson’s van shined through the rear window. Burke shut his off and waved his arm outside for the other vehicles to do the same.

  “They will shoot you on sight,” Ibrahim said. “The guards are very well trained.”

  “That’s nice to know,” Burke said flippantly.

  Martinez looked around from the backseat. “What do you want me to do? I’m in no condition to walk the rest of the way.”

  “Wait here and keep an eye on him,” Burke said, signaling to Ibrahim. “This won’t take long.”

  Angela turned around as the headlights behind them went off. She didn’t like the idea of leaving Martinez behind, but the thought had crossed her mind. He’d be safer back here and that was the most important thing to her. “Can you handle yourself if anyone finds you?” she asked Martinez. “Maybe we can find a safer place for you.”

  “I’ll leave him a pistol and the car keys if anything goes down,” Burke said.

  “You better hurry,” Ibrahim interjected. “If they haven’t seen you yet, they soon will.”

  Angela turned and curiously studied him. Ibrahim was making it seem as though he had no real interest in the outcome. Maybe he didn’t, or maybe it was a ploy. “Do you not really care how any of this turns out?” she asked.

  Ibrahim raised his bloody, swollen face. “Of course I do, but it is all in Allah’s hands now. You conceded such yourself. If you fail, then it was meant to be. If you succeed, ISIS will just hit back harder next time, with or without Asgar.”

  “Not a chance. Now shut your mouth,” Burke snapped. He pushed open the door and stepped out as the Outlaws poured out from their vehicles, ready for a fight.

  Ibrahim glanced at Angela, cold and detached, but with a hint of desperation. She opened up her door and stepped out to join the others.

  “Get out of the car, Ibrahim,” Burke called out from behind the trunk. Their captive meekly stepped out, limping his way to the trunk as Burke opened it. The Outlaws trekked through the grimy, sandy road and assembled at the front of the car. They hadn’t been given the details yet, but it was clear enough that they were near.

  Burke reached into the trunk and took out a backpack filled with ammo and a thick roll of duct tape. He grabbed the roll and pulled a long stretch of tape from it.

  “What is this?” Ibrahim asked, eyeing him nervously.

  “Hold out your arms,” Burke said.

  Ibrahim reluctantly raised his arms as Burke quickly wrapped the roll around his wrists tightly. “If what you’re saying is true, you might just make it out of this. You’ll be in prison for probably the rest of your life, but at least you’ll be alive.”

  He then led Ibrahim to the front seat and pushed him inside like a police officer. Ibrahim muttered back something in Arabic as Burke slammed the door. He walked by the passenger window as Martinez stretched his legs.

  “You keep an eye on him,” Burke said. He pulled his pistol from its holster and held it inside, handing it to Martinez. “He tries anything, you know what to do.”

  Martinez gave him a thumbs up. “Got it.”

  Angela stood to the side as the Outlaws approached, armed and suited up in flak vests and ammo pouches. They had rifles, pistols, night vision goggles, and scopes on their weapons. One look at them and she believed they could really pull it off. Asgar could be dead within the hour and th
e lives of millions saved. She relished the thought.

  Burke went back to the trunk where he methodically retrieved his M4 and M14 sniper rifle, setting them against the car as well. He then pulled out his ammo vest, filled with M4 magazines, and handed it to Angela.

  “You take the rifle. I’ll carry the M14.”

  She slid the vest over her shoulder atop the bulletproof vest she was already wearing. The plates dug into her back and chest. It was uncomfortable but discomfort was a small price to pay for survival. She thought of their numbers as a group. There were twenty-two of them, counting herself. Asgar’s numbers were a mystery. She wished she knew what kind of resistance they would face. Regardless, they would need a good strategy to seize the warehouse and eliminate the dangerous threat inside.

  She took the M4 as Burke lifted his long sniper rifle up, its barrel angled. He then gave hand-held radios with earpieces attached to Hendrickson and Angela.

  Hendrickson took the radio and turned the power knob, testing it. “Where is this place?”

  “Farther up the road,” Burke answered. “We go the rest of the way on foot. Surround the place at all ends.”

  “Who’s leading the charge here?” Hendrickson asked.

  “According to our captive, there are shooters placed all over the building,” Angela said, stepping forward. “We have to stay out of sight. Slow careful movements.”

  “A diversion would be nice,” Hendrickson said.

  “That’s exactly right,” Angela said. “One team gets the attention of the shooters while the other gets inside.” She turned to Burke. “That’ll give you time to get them in your sights and take them out.”

  “Give me a moment to set up before everyone goes charging in there,” Burke said. “And let’s decide who’s on what team now?”

  Angela and Hendrickson looked at each, but she spoke first. “I’ll take half with me around to the back of the warehouse. Hendrickson, you take the others and get their attention, but don’t expose yourselves fully. If you’re seen they’ll know we’re coming.”