Finding Shelter: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller (The EMP Book 8)

by Ryan Westfield

  "I wouldn't kidnap anyone."

  "If you had to."

  "The woods. Away from everyone."

  "OK. But that's you, Georgia. You're not most people. You're not exactly normal. And that's good. It's what makes you effective. But what about your average person? Your average kidnapper?"

  "What would they want to kidnap a kid for anyway?" said Georgia.

  John shrugged. It was clear he didn't want to answer her. The possibilities were all too terrible.

  "I think your average idiot kidnapper would take the kidnappee somewhere fairly close by. Sadie's a tough cookie, regardless of her age. She's going to be hard to take real far."

  "Well, they took her. She's missing."

  John had a look on his face like didn't want to say what he was thinking. And Georgia didn't ask him. She didn't have to. She knew that they were assuming the best-case scenario. Kidnapping was the best- case scenario. Death was the worst.

  For all they knew, Sadie could be lying dead somewhere just outside the area that James and Dan had already checked. Or she could be just dead, or dying, under a pile of dead leaves. After all, it'd be impossible to check every actual square inch of the surrounding forest.

  Georgia had to make up her mind. And fast. There wasn't any more time to waste on her decision.

  She had to go with her gut feeling. Ignore all her thoughts. Ignore John.

  "We'll head to the shopping mall. The one on I-5. There's a chance she's there. Max told me he came across some lowlifes around those parts."

  John hesitated, before nodding in agreement.

  And with that, they were off, each one trying to keep up with the other. The pace was fast. Very fast. And it had to be.

  Georgia's thoughts were racing. There was no calming her mind. Not now. Not with what had happened.

  12

  Sadie

  Something wasn't right.

  Sadie's suspicion was rising. It had been nonexistent before.

  Had she been blinded by her enthusiasm for making a friend, for finding someone her own age to play with?

  But now, as she stood outside Terry's house, and watched his back, she wondered why she'd had to wait outside. And what was Terry talking to his wife for?

  Was Sadie really that much of a threat? Sure, she was an outsider, but she was just a child. She knew that she wasn't big or scary.

  Her gun was in her hands again. It felt good there. Just in case something happened, it was good to know she had it.

  The safety was off. Her finger was near the trigger. Not quite pressing it. But inside the trigger guard.

  Her heart was pounding. Anxiety. Anticipation. Adrenaline, causing a slight shaking in her hands.

  She took a deep breath. Held it to the count of three. Let it out. Did it all again. Her hands felt a little better. A little steadier.

  Should she leave?

  She had just seconds to decide.

  Yes. She needed to get out of here. Her gut was clenched up. Her body was reacting, telling her this wasn't right.

  But maybe it was just nerves. Maybe it was just anxiety that meant nothing, like when she'd almost thrown up before giving a school report in front of the class, only to have it all work out fine in the end.

  Shit. What should she do?

  She started to turn around, getting ready to run off, but before she'd turned ninety degrees, she saw Terry himself turning around.

  There was something in his hands. What was it?

  Rope.

  There was rope in his hands.

  Why was there rope in his hands?

  There was a strange look on his face. A strange look in his eyes.

  He was moving fast. Long strides. Headed right towards Sadie.

  He hadn't closed the door behind him, and in the doorway, his wife stood and looked out, watching Terry, and glancing up at Sadie. Her expression was inscrutable. Something was going on, but it was impossible to tell what.

  Sadie raised her gun.

  "What's up, Sadie?" said Terry, not ceasing to continue walking towards her.

  "You tell me what's up. What's that rope for?"

  "The rope? Oh, nothing."

  Sadie said nothing. Just gritted her teeth. Finger pressing ever so slightly against the trigger. Muzzle of the gun aimed squarely at Terry's chest.

  "Why don't you put the gun down, Sadie?"

  "I don't trust you."

  "Well, that makes sense. We just met. But I thought we were getting along."

  "Tell me what the rope's for, and maybe I'll put the gun down. If you wanted to attack me, you're going to need more than rope, anyway."

  "Attack you?" Terry let out a weary little laugh that sounded a little less than genuine.

  Maybe Sadie was overreacting to all this. Maybe she was just paranoid. Maybe she had spent too long cooped up in the woods trying to survive with the others. Maybe all her normal social impulses had been inverted, completely changed around.

  "My wife just wanted me to tie it up in the tree over there, so that you and Lilly can swing on it. I'll stay outside with you two and make sure everything's OK."

  Sadie didn't know what to say. The idea of playing on a tree, swinging on a rope, was too strange, too foreign, and too tempting.

  "Where's Lilly?"

  "Oh, she'll be right out. She just wanted to change into some better clothes in order to meet you. She hasn't been able to wear her favorite stuff, since it all gets worn out."

  Sadie looked down at her own clothes, which were dirty, stained, and worn out. She felt embarrassed about them.

  Terry was close to her now. There hadn't been much space between them to cross, and he had talked through most of it.

  Slowly, Sadie had lowered her gun. Lowered her defenses. After all, Terry wasn't trying to hurt her? He would have done it earlier. There'd been endless opportunities. Sadie had just been working herself up into a panic.

  "Lilly will be right out," said Terry, with a single glance back towards his wife in the doorway.

  Then, suddenly, his strong adult hands had grabbed Sadie's arms.

  What was going on? He was attacking her?

  Sadie struggled, pushing back against him. But he was too strong, and she was strong, but she was just a kid. She was no match for him.

  Terry moved, shifted so that one of his hands grabbed both her wrists. He was strong enough and his hand was big enough that he could do it.

  His other free hand, dropping the rope, went to grab the handgun that was still in her hand. It was pointing harmlessly towards the sky.

  No words were spoken. But Sadie glanced at his eyes, which hadn't changed. There was no evil glimmer that had come on all of a sudden. There was just the same look as there had always been. He was the same man as before; he'd just tricked her. The only thing new in his expression was determination.

  Sadie wasn't going to let him take the gun. Without it, she had no chance.

  She gritted her teeth, and, with all her strength, pushed her one arm back against his hand. She did it suddenly, her force catching Terry somewhat off guard. He let the push shift his own arms, and now her handgun was pointed at Terry.

  He wouldn't let it point at him long.

  It was just one instant. The barrel almost against his stomach, due to how much shorter Sadie was.

  There wasn't going to be time to try to get a different shot. And, why did she need one? The stomach was fine.

  Sadie didn't hesitate at all. She pulled the trigger.

  The gun kicked.

  Her ears rang.

  Terry grunted strangely, an odd look appearing on his face. A look of surprise. Of something else. Something she couldn't read.

  His hands let go of Sadie, and she pulled herself free.

  But she didn't move much. She only took one step back, and stood there, stunned, looking at Terry.

  "What have you done?" Terry's wife's voice rose to a high pitch, in terror and shock, with the noise barely rising above the intense ringing in
Sadie's ears. She was rushing from the doorway towards Terry, who was slowly sinking to his knees, clutching his stomach.

  A spot of blood was growing on his dingy and tattered shirt, over his emaciated abdominal area.

  Sadie knew that a wound like that to the stomach meant death. A slow, painful death.

  Terry's wife had nearly reached Terry and Sadie. It was a toss-up, whether she'd go to comfort Terry, or whether she'd attack Sadie. There was no reason in Sadie's mind that she should trust Terry's wife.

  Sadie pointed her gun at Terry's wife. "Stop!" she shouted.

  Sadie didn't want to shoot someone else. She didn't want to kill this woman.

  But, then again, she didn't want any of this life.

  This was what she had.

  And she, like her mother, knew that she was going to survive. No matter what. No matter how many people she had to kill.

  "Don't shoot!" The woman raised her hands above her hand. A look of terror on her face, and in her eyes, which darted between Sadie and Terry.

  Terry had sunk down completely to the ground, lying on his side, his eyes staring up to the sky.

  The woman's eyes kept bouncing back and forth between Sadie and Terry. And, then, all of a sudden, they flitted back to the house that she'd come out of.

  Sadie's eyes followed too. She wanted to see what the woman was looking at. Was there someone else in the house? Another threat.

  That's when Sadie saw the girl, about her age, standing in the doorway where, not long before, her mother had been.

  The sight was strange. Unexpected. So there really was a girl her age. A girl she could have been friends with, had things been different.

  But they weren't different.

  Sadie's eyes lingered on the girl for too long.

  Suddenly, something smacked into her head. Something hard. Her vision went momentarily black. She lost her balance, started to fall, but caught herself at the last moment.

  Sadie's eyes, turning back, saw the woman. Terry's wife was standing over her, a piece of hardwood in one hand. Her eyes glared at Sadie.

  "You shot my husband," she snarled. "You'll pay for this."

  Sadie was dizzy. It was hard to concentrate on the gun. But she started to raise it.

  But before she could get the gun aimed again, the woman swung the wood again.

  This time, the wood hit Sadie's shoulder. Hard. Felt harder than the blow to her head.

  Sadie lurched from the blow. After all, she didn't weigh much. Not nearly as much as an adult. She was no match for the adult woman. Unless she could get the gun straight.

  "The gun," groaned Terry. "Get the gun."

  Strong adult hands on the gun. Female hands. Sadie felt it being wrenched from her own hands.

  Now she was helpless. No gun.

  Now the strong female hands were at her neck. Squeezing. Hard.

  Sadie tried to gasp. But she couldn't.

  There was no air.

  She couldn't breathe.

  Was this going to be how it ended?

  For a long time, she'd thought she'd go down from a bullet. And then, for a time, it seemed as if starvation would do her and her family in.

  But being strangled by a woman, by a mother? She'd never thought it would end this way.

  The hands were getting tighter.

  Sadie simply couldn't breathe at all. She wouldn't last long.

  Images started to flash through her mind's eye. Images of her younger years, not so long ago. Memories of times that had been lost, times from before the EMP.

  "Don't... kill..." It was Terry's voice, croaking out a couple words. "Need... alive..."

  Suddenly, the hands loosened. The grip relaxed.

  Sadie gasped.

  Air came rushing in.

  "She's done you in, Terry. Don't you realize that?" There was anger in the woman's voice. Intense anger. Anger and pain. She knew she was going to lose her husband. She knew that there was nothing she could do, that there was no way she could patch up the wound. No way to save him.

  Sadie lay there on her back, weak, like a fish gasping for air, listening.

  Terry spoke slowly, his words weak, his voice full of intense physical pain. Sadie remembered hearing that there was no more painful way to go out than being shot in the stomach. Maybe it was true and maybe it wasn't. Either way, it probably didn't feel good.

  "We... need... her... alive... she's... daughter.... group that... has... everything... group in the... woods... use her as... hostage... get what you... need for after… I'm gone."

  The woman was crying now. Audibly.

  Sadie, still gasping for breath, was trying to get to her feet. She was scanning the ground, looking for the gun that she had lost. She needed to fight back. She wasn't going to let this happen.

  "So that was your plan, Terry? Use this girl as a hostage? That's what was going to keep us alive? You coward..." The woman's' crying was louder now. Intense. "I guess I have no choice now. Now that you've gone and gotten yourself killed through your idiocy and cowardliness; you've left me in an awful position. The position of having to follow through on your plan since I have nothing else to do, no other way to protect myself and Lilly."

  Suddenly, the woman was on top of Sadie, pushing her against the ground. The woman's strong hands pinned Sadie down as she used the rope that Terry had brought over.

  Sadie tried to fight back. But the woman was too strong and easily overpowered her.

  Soon, Sadie's wrists and ankles were tightly bound with thick rope.

  Sadie lay on her back, unable to move, except to wiggle, staring up at the sky. Completely useless Completely powerless.

  Somewhere, unseen by Sadie, Terry groaned in pain.

  "I don't like this any more than you do," said the woman. "But this is the situation my idiot husband put us in. So you're my hostage. Don't blame me. I'm just trying to survive. You'll understand when you're older. Now, who are your parents, and where are they? I don't think my husband thought this through very well, but I'm going to have to let them know somehow that I have you hostage..."

  The woman's face suddenly appeared above Sadie's, blocking out the sky.

  The woman asked again. "Who are they?"

  Sadie spat in the woman's face. A huge glob of spit.

  She'd never give up her family that easily.

  But, unfortunately, Terry, if he didn't die first, would be able to tell his wife exactly what to do, whatever his plan had been. And, in all likelihood, he'd live for a good number of hours before he finally bit the dust.

  13

  Max

  The blows rained down on Max. His body quivered in pain. His body was so full of pain that it became pain.

  If he'd been able to think a single normal thought, it would have been that what he hated most of all was simply not being able to fight back. The pain wasn't the hardest thing for him to deal with. It was the lack of agency. The lack of taking action.

  Max's mouth was somehow full of dry earth. It felt horrible in his mouth. Dry. Disgusting. It hit the back of his throat. His face was pressed into the dirt now. A boot pressed hard down on his back. He felt the pain in his spine radiating up towards his skull.

  Another boot came down hard, right onto his shoulder blade.

  Max couldn't help it. He let out a scream of pain. Dry. As if the saliva was gone from his mouth.

  For so long, Max had been searching for an answer. He'd been searching for someone or something to bring order out of chaos. From what he'd heard, the man who could do it was Grant.

  Max had thought he'd needed to find Grant. To talk to him. To work for him.

  And he'd finally found him.

  He'd found Grant.

  The same man who was kicking him. The same man who was inflicting so much psychical pain. The same man who was about to kill him.

  Max had found what he'd thought he needed, only to discover that he'd needed something else entirely all along.

  Max should have never left
Mandy. Never left his unborn child. Never left the camp.

  He should have never come.

  And now he'd never get a second chance.

  It was a hell of a way to go out. After everything that he'd avoided, all the danger he'd fought through, he'd finally dug his own grave by marching right into the lion's den. Max only had himself to blame. He'd delivered himself right to Grant.

  The boots were off Max's back now. No pressure. No weight.

  Max could move. He shifted his weight around, bending his knee, pushing with his hand against the ground. He was going to get up. He was going to fight. Maybe he wouldn't live, but at least he'd go down fighting.

  But before Max could get up, another boot smashed into his side, sending him collapsing back to the ground, letting out a grunt of pain.

  "I thought you were the type of man who'd let me get up to fight," said Max, laboriously, through gritted teeth. His breathing was heavy and labored. It was difficult to speak through the pain.

  "I'm the type of man who knows not to give his enemies any chance," growled Grant.

  Another boot smashed into Max. This time into his face.

  Max felt the pain. His lip burst open. More blood in his mouth. Pain in his cheek. Deep in it. A couple of teeth loose. Tumbling around his mouth. More blood. More pain.

  "This'll be better with... using my own two hands," growled Grant.

  Max was on his back, lying in the dirt. Struggling to get up.

  In a flash, Grant sank to his knees. His knees, like sharp points, dug into Max's belly and chest.

  Max couldn't breathe. Just a little bit. Just a little air coming through. Like trying to breathe through a plugged-up straw while on the bottom of the ocean.

  Two rough strong hands were around Max's neck. Squeezing. Hard. Very hard.

  Now Max really couldn't breathe.

  This was it. This was really it.

  Partial images flashed through Max's mind.

  Childhood memories. Images of Mandy. Strange, partial thoughts, neither coming nor going.

  "Good riddance," growled Grant.

  Grant's face was right up against Max's, as if Grant wanted to see Max die in an up close and personal way.