Unknown World: The EMP Survivor Series - Book 3

by Chris Pike

  One of the younger men inspected Cowboy and the mule. Chandler kept his eyes on the guy.

  “Anyone can say they live here,” the older man said. “We’ve had a problem with looters, so aren’t letting anyone in.”

  “I’m not a looter and this lady is cold. She needs to get home and warm up.”

  The younger guy who had sidled up to Cowboy said, “Nice horse you got here. I noticed the mule has a brand on it.” The young man traced the outline of the letters PSI and a squiggly line under the letters. “That’s the Packsaddle Inn brand.” He put his hand on his gun ready to draw it. “You affiliated with them?”

  “Nope. Let’s just say they are smokin’ hot about now.”

  The young guy said, “What do you mean by that?”

  When Chandler didn’t answer, the guy cast a suspicious glance at him. Chandler kept his eyes on the guy. “Wait a minute,” the young guy said. “I know who you are.” A big smile broke across his face. “You’re Chris Chandler!”

  With mounting confusion, Chandler looked at the guy, trying to recall where he knew him from. He was late twenties, probably clean-shaven at one time, and had on the same type of attire as the others did, cowboy clothes that could have been worn on a movie set.

  “Don’t you remember me?”

  “I’m sorry…I—”

  “We went to high school together. I’m Nick Smith. In tenth grade you flattened Jerry Hicks when he was bullying me. Don’t you remember?”

  Chandler rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Yeah, I remember now. He had it coming.”

  “You’re damn right,” Nick said. “The school refused to do anything with that guy, but you took care of him.”

  “That I did,” Chandler said. “It landed me a three day suspension, but it was worth every minute.”

  “I don’t think I ever thanked you,” Nick said.

  “No need to.”

  “Dad,” Nick said, “this is the guy I told you about.”

  The older man came closer. “I’m Ralph Smith. Let me shake your hand. You changed my son’s life.”

  “Ah, Dad, you’re embarrassing me.” Nick scratched the side of his cheek and glanced away.

  “Well, he did change your life. After that no good Jerry Hicks stopped bothering you, your grades went back up, which resulted in you getting into college.”

  “Dad, that’s enough,” Nick said. “Come on Chris, or should I say Chandler? You go by your last name, right?”

  “I do.”

  “When you came riding up I thought you looked familiar, I just couldn’t place you. You’ve changed a lot. You look older.”

  “You’d look older too if you’ve been through what I’ve been through.”

  Nick shifted his weight. “No offense. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “None taken.”

  Nick said, “Your friend can warm up in one of our trucks.”

  Chandler dismounted Cowboy and helped Amanda down.

  “Do you have anything hot to drink?” Amanda asked. “I’m really cold.”

  “Want some hot coffee?” Nick asked.

  “That would be wonderful.”

  “Black okay?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Nick escorted Amanda to one of the trucks and opened the door for her. She expressed her thanks.

  Chandler eyed the rifle Ralph held. “That’s a nice rifle you got there. Mind if I take a look at it?”

  “Not at all.”

  Chandler took the Winchester rifle and sighted it on a nearby hill. “It’s got a good feel to it. If you don’t mind me asking, are y’all part of SASS?”

  “You know your acronyms. Not many people know it stands for Single Action Shooters Society.”

  “You are dressed for it.”

  “Oh, these old duds? Thought it would be appropriate seeing that things have turned the way of the Wild West. There’s no law here anymore. We had to make our own law because of looters. We’ve blocked off all the main highways and we’re not letting anyone in. You’re one of the exceptions.”

  “Tell me,” Chandler said, “are you using full power handloads in that .45 Long Colt on your belt?”

  “You betcha I am. No competition loads while we’re patrolling. We need all the firepower we can get.” Ralph paused, thinking. “Where’d y’all come from?”

  “East Texas. I got stuck there after the grid went down. Stayed a while helping out friends at their ranch. Amanda needed escorting to Austin, and since my parents and brother are still here, thought it was time I came home. Do you know my parents by any chance? John and Tatiana Chandler? They don’t live far from here.”

  “Their names don’t ring a bell,” Ralph said shaking his head. “This city has gotten so big, so many folks.”

  “Thought I’d ask.” Chandler patted Cowboy on the neck. “Has there been any trouble here other than looting?”

  “We’re okay here in the hills. We’ve got the place pretty much cordoned off. We take turns patrolling the main arteries leading into the neighborhood. 2222 being one of them. Loop 620 too. The river is a natural boundary so we haven’t had much problem with boaters trying to sneak into the neighborhood. Neighbors are helping each other. Never seen people come together like that. We’ve got the river for bathing, and some folks are boiling water from the river to drink. There’s even been some block parties, if you can believe that. The margaritas were flowing, let me tell ya.”

  “After what we’ve been through on this trip, I could use a good drink.”

  Ralph looked in both directions, reached inside his coat, and took out a shiny flask. “Me and J.D. have become friendly.”

  “J.D.?”

  “Jack Daniels. Want some?”

  An expression of understanding washed across Chandler’s face. “Sure.” He took a drink from the flask and swallowed, savoring the burn. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Thanks. It’s good.” He handed the flask back to Ralph.

  “Don’t tell my son. This is my private stash.”

  Chandler laughed and patted Ralph on the shoulder. “Your secret is safe with me. Well, we better get going. I appreciate your help.”

  “Godspeed to you both. I’ll say a prayer for both of you,” Ralph said. He stuffed the flask back into his coat pocket.

  “I appreciate it. That reminds me of something,” Chandler said, pausing. “Faith, family, and firearms.”

  “Come again?”

  “Faith, family, and firearms. It’s a motto of a wise man from Louisiana. He helped some friends of mine, and passed the motto along to them.”

  “I like that.” Ralph tried out the new motto. “Faith, family, and firearms. I’ll remember that.”

  “Before you go, if you have any trouble between here and your home, take this.” Ralph handed Chandler a business card. “It’s sorta like a hall pass. I’ve signed it and dated it. Everybody knows me, so if you run into anybody who gives you trouble, hand them this.”

  Chandler took the card and silently read it. Ralph Smith, President, Oak Hill Bank. Chandler’s first impression had been right. They were bankers. He placed the card in his shirt pocket. “Amanda. Time for us to go.”

  Sitting atop Cowboy, Chandler grasped Amanda’s arm and helped her up. She settled in behind him, her arms around his waist. They headed across the bridge and when they crossed to the other side, Chandler stopped, turned around, and waved. Ralph and his two sons waved back.

  Chapter 19

  Cowboy struggled to climb the steep limestone hills formed during the Paleozoic Era when shallow seas inundated and retreated from land, leaving a rich fossil history among the hills. Millions of years before, faulting occurred in Central Texas when the coastal plains bent downward. The more stable interior remained higher. The soft sediments of the Hill Country eroded away, and the hard Cretaceous limestones and dolomites were exposed, resulting in hills and steep canyons prevalent in today’s landscape.

  Cowboy’s steps were heavy on the concrete road of
the Capital of Texas Highway. He breathed hard. The sturdy horse marshaled onward, unyielding to the load he carried. The mule acted as if this was a walk in the park.

  Abandoned cars of all makes and models had been abandoned on the road. Some had been pushed to the side, others still in the same spot when the EMP hit, causing the engines to die.

  Upscale shopping centers set back from the road were void of activity, the shops dark, windows shattered.

  Gray clouds grew thick over the evergreen mountain cedars and scrub oaks dotting the rolling hills. Terracotta roofs of expensive homes poked above the stunted trees.

  Several buzzards crowded around carrion on the side of the road, pecking at it. The large black birds huddled near the head where the soft flesh of eyes and lips were easily torn away.

  Curious at what the scavengers were eating, Amanda glanced at the buzzards. A closer inspection showed a man’s corpse being devoured. She gasped and put a hand to her mouth.

  A break in the low gray clouds appeared, letting the winter sun peek through, shining bright and clear. Amanda sneezed.

  “Cedar pollen,” Chandler said. “Can’t escape it.”

  “How much further?” Amanda asked.

  “That’s the fifth time in two days you’ve asked me that,” Chandler replied.

  “Didn’t know you were counting.”

  “Kinda hard not to.”

  “Well?”

  “Well, what?”

  Amanda rolled her eyes. “How much further?”

  “That makes six times.”

  “You are exasperating, Christopher Chandler.” Amanda knuckle punched him on his arm.

  “My mom calls me that, but only when she’s mad at me.”

  “Make that two people who call you that when they’re mad at you.”

  “Okay, okay. I’m only teasing you. We have about thirty more minutes until we’re home. Like I said, my parents will love you. My brother too.”

  “Tell me their names again.”

  “My brother’s name is Luke, my parents are John and Tatiana. My sister’s name is Katherine. We call her Kate.”

  “I didn’t know you had a sister,” Amanda said.

  “I haven’t seen her much lately, especially since she was the youngest one, and me being older, well, I was always off doing things, so we never did much together. She and Luke were closer. Man, are they going to be surprised when they see me! I can’t wait. Oh, one more thing. I completely forgot to tell you…wait till you meet Uncle Billy.”

  * * *

  The former Big View Ranch had been established in the 1800s by William and Agnes Chandler, immigrants of English origin. They settled on fertile land near the Colorado River, unknowingly building their one room cabin in the hundred year flood plain. Ten years later a flood washed away the cabin. During those ten years, Agnes had given birth to five children, three of whom had survived. The ranch had prospered and William decided they needed a bigger, grander house, so he commissioned carpenters and an architect to build a two-story house on high ground above the flood line. He marked the line by planting ten pecan trees so future generations would know how far the flood waters had risen.

  To this day, seven of those trees still lived and produced a good crop of pecans. The trees created a luxurious canopy in the summer, while a healthy pecan crop could be harvested in the winter.

  Fast forward to present day where the only remaining male heir, John Chandler, and his family lived. The ranch had been divided and sold off, and the Chandler family had only been able to keep the old house, along with ten acres, thick with oaks and cedars, animal trails, and dens.

  One acre of land near the house had been cleared for an orchard of peach and plum trees, while the other half had been cultivated for planting vegetables.

  The house sat at the end of a cul-de-sac, surrounded by million dollar homes with swimming pools and manicured lawns. Speedboats were docked at the individual boat ramps.

  The once pristine woodland and ranchland of the Big View Ranch had succumbed to developers and the unmerciful blades of bulldozers making way for a perfect grid of streets and houses. Concrete covered native grasses, old wood oaks and cedars growing for hundreds of years had been chain-sawed down in a matter of minutes.

  Such was the way of progress.

  William Chandler (named after his great-grandfather), John’s brother, was known as Uncle Billy. He was a lifelong bachelor, and always looked out for the other guy. He had a casual demeanor, but after he came back from the war, he was a changed man. He never fully recovered from his wartime duty, nor had he successfully transitioned from military to civilian life. He hopped from job to job, being fired from several after getting into fistfights with his bosses.

  He tried to hide his problems with humor and a six pack which was never far from his reach.

  The years had softened Uncle Billy into a man whose main pleasure was shucking pecan hulls to pass the time. When the weather was better—and the weather never quite got to his liking—he planned to go fishing. It was always too hot or too windy, too cloudy, too many boaters out on the lake, although he always told the tale about the big one that got away the time he was fishing at Mansfield Damn. Each time he told the story, the catfish magically gained a pound or two, along with growing an inch.

  Being the older of the two, John had always felt a responsibility to Billy, telling him, “You’re always welcome to live at my house.” The tradeoff was mutually beneficial. While John was being transferred around the United States during his military career, Uncle Billy stayed at the Big View home base and helped raise his nephews and niece. He had been babysitter, gardener, handyman, chauffeur, and helped the kids with homework, that was, until they were in sixth grade. Uncle Billy never was much good with math, but he prided himself on teaching his nephews how to shoot.

  He understood his place in the family dynamics and never badmouthed or talked smack about his big brother, nor did he try to replace him as a father or to dispense punishment. Uncle Billy considered that the parents’ responsibility. The kids weren’t bad, just did the things kids do of shucking chores and back talking to their mom. Tatiana did most of the punishing due to John being gone, but as time passed and the kids grew into young adults, it became less of an issue. Whenever John came home, the kids were on their best behavior.

  While John was the more successful of the brothers, Billy never held a grudge against him. In fact, he had done the opposite, bragging to anybody within earshot about his great brother and his wonderful family. It never crossed his mind to do otherwise. They were his family and he helped them out, earning his way and place in the family. It’s what family did: they helped each other.

  On this particular day, the Chandlers were getting ready to host a block party. Luke had bagged a deer the previous day when he had walked along the river, scouting for anything that might be useful. The hills were thick with oaks and cedars, tangled mustang grape vines, making a wild habit among the urban sprawl. When he came to an area known as Panther Hollow, he stopped and looked over his shoulder.

  The tale of how Panther Hollow got its name flashed in his memory. When he was a kid, Uncle Billy had told him the area received its name back in the 1920s due to a local landowner losing several goats to a predator. Sometime after that, a panther had been spotted lurking in the shadows of the woodland. Whenever Uncle Billy told stories, he tended toward the dramatic, leaving out pertinent details, and such was the case with the panther story. While it was a true story according to folklore, Uncle Billy failed to mention it happened in the 1920s, the panther had been killed, and none had been seen since.

  Luke had been scared out of his wits as a kid after learning about the panther. That night, he had slept with the light on.

  Whenever it was quiet and strange sounds emanated from the woods, Luke paid extra attention and glanced over his shoulder more than necessary. Panthers were like ghosts, or maybe coyotes, although he had seen several coyotes lately, but always from a dis
tance. He had yet to see or hear a panther.

  Ahead of him in a bend in the river where civilization had not yet crowded out animal life, he’d spotted the deer. He had been downwind of the deer, and the moment Luke saw it, he froze. The deer lifted its head, swished its tail, then went back to nibbling the tender grass.

  Luke felled the deer with one well-placed shot. Unable to drag it back to the house, he covered the deer with tree limbs then sprinted two miles back to the house.

  Uncle Billy drove the truck, which dated from the early 1970s, while Luke rode shotgun, and due to the location of the deer, they took the long way around until he came to a dead end. He turned the truck around, hopped the curb, then bounced along the uneven ground until they came to the deer. With Luke’s help, they heaved it into the truck bed. Without a smokehouse or other means of preserving the meat, they decided to share it with neighbors. Word spread quickly and each family had been asked to bring a covered dish to the potluck dinner.

  By late afternoon, the sun had warmed the temperature to nearly sixty degrees. Luke had shrugged off his jacket, and Uncle Billy had rolled up his sleeves, ready to get his hands dirty.

  Tatiana was in the kitchen cutting vegetables and a loaf of bread she had baked earlier over a fire. It wasn’t exactly Mrs. Baird’s quality, but if anyone complained, she’d tell them to make it themselves next time. Making bread and kneading it on the kitchen counter required elbow grease, and a lot of it. Muscles were mandatory, and whenever someone said cooking wasn’t work, she bristled.

  Earlier in the afternoon, Tatiana had mixed a batch of spiced tea for the guests who wanted something hot to drink. The old family recipe required one cup of Tang, half a cup of instant tea, one package of instant lemonade, and half a teaspoon each of cinnamon, ginger, and cloves.

  She boiled water using the wood burning stove that hadn’t been in use since the 1950s. It had taken John a while to clean it out and get it working again, resulting in Tatiana forgoing using it as a display shelf for Christmas elves.