Staying Alive: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller (The EMP Book 2)

by Ryan Westfield

At least John had had enough sense to stay holed up in his apartment. He’d known there’d be chaos during the power outage, but he’d been sure that law and order would be restored.

  He was shaking as he crouched there. His coffee mug was on the floor next to him. There was also the large kitchen knife, and a couple other odds and ends. The apartment was a mess, filled with the smelly plastic the frozen meat had come in. The freezer and fridge themselves stank horribly as well. But John hardly noticed that now.

  There was a blood-curdling scream that came from the hallway of the apartment building.

  John froze in fear.

  Everything was more terrifying in the near-darkness.

  He couldn’t imagine what it was like in those hallways, now pitch-black. John was on the fifth level, and he knew the stairways leading down would be nothing but terrifying darkness.

  The scream continued for a full minute.

  There were other sounds. A strange thumping sound. The sound of something banging into the wall. Then the unmistakable sound of a fist against a skull.

  John had to get out of here.

  He’d been denying it for as long as he could.

  But there was no food left. He’d die soon enough if he stayed there.

  The screaming stopped suddenly. It was nothing but piercing silence now.

  John’s heart was thumping wildly. He was sure he wasn’t thinking clearly. The only thought that echoed through his rattled mind was: get out.

  He didn’t care if he wasn’t making the right decision. As far as he was concerned, it was the only decision.

  John’s mind turned again to his estranged brother, Max. If Max had done what he’d been threatening to do and finally gotten prepared, there’d be one place that Max would have fled to. And that was the farmhouse that he’d inherited.

  John was still bitter about the farmhouse. It was one of those familial disagreements that outsiders could never understand. John made a hell of a lot of money, and it wasn’t as if the farmhouse had any financial value for him. Instead, it was that he had been passed over, simply because Max had gotten along better with their grandfather.

  John got up suddenly. It was time to act.

  It was time to leave.

  He didn’t think he could really make it to the farmhouse. He didn’t even really think that Max would be there. After all, Max was probably dead. And John probably wouldn’t make it.

  Moving frantically in the dim light, John gathered what he could. There was no food to take with him. Really, there was hardly anything that might be useful. His luxurious apartment had been outfitted in the minimalist style of expensive pieces of furniture. The style left no room for odds and ends to lay around. And John wasn’t the type to keep tools or camping gear around.

  In the span of five minutes, John gathered his things.

  In one hand, he held his kitchen knife. He gripped it so tightly his knuckles were almost white.

  In his other hand, he held his expensive leather briefcase. Inside, he had stuffed a flannel-lined raincoat. It was perhaps the most practical piece of clothing that he owned. The briefcase also contained a water bottle John had discovered at the last minute in one of the mostly-unused kitchen cupboards.

  There was no flashlight to be found in the apartment. He didn’t have any candles either. He was going to have to do this in the dark.

  The light outside was dimming. The sun was going down.

  It was now or never.

  John knew he’d rather die outside than spend another moment starving to death in his apartment. He had to at least try. He had that much life left in him.

  But he wasn’t sure he’d even make it through the hallway alive.

  Knife in hand, he swung the front door open.

  The hallway was dark. But with the doorway open, some of the sun’s dying light came through the blinds in a line across the hallway.

  A woman’s body lay on the floor. Her hair was matted with blood.

  John looked away immediately. He didn’t want to see her injuries.

  He stepped over her body.

  The sunlight got dimmer the farther he walked.

  His heart had never beat harder or faster.

  He was almost paralyzed with fear.

  But he kept going.

  He wasn’t going to give up. He’d finally found the strength to leave. He was finally willing to fight. He was finally willing to try to survive.

  It was the trying that was important.

  After all, he didn’t expect to live.

  At the end of the hallway, the light was so dim he almost couldn’t see.

  He’d passed by the elevator. Obviously that wasn’t an option.

  John stood in front of the heavy metal door that led to the stairwell, normally only used in emergencies. Well, this is an emergency, he thought.

  He took a deep breath. Holding his knife in front of him, ready to stab, he pushed the door open.

  Not that he’d be able to see a potential attacker.

  He stepped across the threshold and the heavy metal door slammed closed behind him.

  John couldn’t see his hand in front of him. He had no idea where the stairs began. He’d have to crawl on his hands and knees.

  The farmhouse was at least an eight hours’ drive from the city. And John hadn’t even left his building yet. And he was currently crawling.

  6

  Max

  They had to deal with the approaching car first. It was closer than the figures across the field.

  “What do we do?” whispered James.

  “We wait to see who they are and what they want,” said Max.

  Max certainly wasn’t above killing someone who was a threat. But at the same time, he wasn’t simply going to shoot someone for driving onto his property.

  Hidden behind the corner of the house, they’d watched the minivan drive up the long driveway.

  Maybe the fact that it was a minivan factored into his thinking. But Max knew that wasn’t rational. While a minivan conveyed the idea of an innocent family, anyone could be driving it. It wasn’t like owning a minivan made someone not dangerous, not a threat.

  The minivan sat there. The driver turned the engine off. But Max couldn’t see the driver because of the glare on the windows.

  Finally, after what seemed like forever, the driver’s side door opened.

  A man stepped out. Max couldn’t see him at first. The driver’s side door was on the opposite side from where Max was, and the body of the van blocked his view.

  “Anyone there?” shouted the van’s driver.

  The driver walked in front of the van.

  He was tall and lanky, wearing a dress shirt that was partially torn along the side. He had about two weeks’ growth of beard, and his hair was disheveled and long. He looked like he might be of college age.

  Max gave James and Sadie a sign not to move, by putting his finger to his lips. Then he gave them a sign to stay where they were.

  Max moved slowly away from where James and Sadie were. His leg was killing him, but he pushed himself. He didn’t want to be by James and Sadie, in case there was any danger. He figured it was better to have his backup in a different position, anyway.

  The van driver didn’t appear to be armed. But Max knew you couldn’t trust appearances.

  “What do you want?” said Max loudly, giving away his position.

  The man turned to look at him. His face broke into an expression of relief. He started walking towards Max.

  Max planted his feet and pointed his Glock at the man. “Stay right there,” he said, speaking loudly and clearly. “Put your hands in the air.”

  “Hey, I’m not here to hurt anyone… I’m just looking for…”

  “Shut up,” said Max. “Stay where you are, or I shoot. Do you have any weapons?”

  “Nope,” said the man. “I’m just looking for a place to stay… I was driving across the country and then something happened…”

  Was it possible tha
t this college-aged guy didn’t understand what had happened?

  Max didn’t trust this guy, as a matter of pure precaution and common sense.

  But he recognized that he might have information about the rest of the country.

  When Max asked the question, he knew in the pit of his stomach that he already knew the answer.

  “Is the power out everywhere?” said Max.

  “Across the whole country.”

  Max wondered how the man had gotten across the whole country without running out of gas, and without getting killed in the process. Maybe he’d been lucky. Or maybe he was lying.

  Suddenly, a shot rang out from the other side of the house.

  “What the hell?” shouted the man, startled.

  There was yelling coming from the other side of the house. And the voices didn’t sound like anyone who lived at the farmhouse. It was those figures they’d seen.

  Max’s heart was pounding. His body filled with adrenaline.

  He wished he knew where Mandy was.

  “Get farther back, and keep your rifles out,” he shouted towards James and Sadie. He needed them to get away from the house. If whoever was on the other side came around that side of the house, James and Sadie would be directly in their path. He needed them farther away for their safety, and for their rifles to be any good in a fight.

  Max didn’t have much time. But he hobbled forward another couple steps. He raised his Glock to point directly at the man’s head.

  “Did you plan this?” he shouted at the man.

  “No! I don’t know what the hell’s going on. I swear…”

  Max saw the terror in his face, and he believed him. Not that it did him much good.

  Suddenly, Max saw two men racing around the far side of the house. They rounded the corner, assault rifles in their hands. Everything was happening too fast. Max could barely take everything in. But he saw their ruthlessness in the way they moved.

  One crouched, using the corner of the house as a partial shield. He lowered his gun and let forth several shots.

  The minivan driver crumpled to the ground. He’d been hit in the stomach.

  It was all happening too fast.

  But Max threw himself to the ground, his arms stretched in front of himself. He returned fire with his Glock. But the distance was too great. He missed, his bullets hitting the house instead of the assailant.

  Another shot rang out. It must have been James or Sadie. Probably James.

  It missed, hitting the ground, sending a clump of dirt flying into the air.

  The men with the assault rifles retreated behind the side of the house, out of view.

  “Chad!” shouted Max.

  Why wasn’t Chad shooting them?

  Maybe because he was terrified, hiding in the middle of the roof. From where he lay, Max couldn’t even see Chad now. Not that it mattered much. Chad was a terrible shot, and they all knew it, including Chad himself.

  With the men out of sight, Max took his chance. He scrambled to his feet the best he could. His leg was killing him. But he managed to retreat backwards. He kept his Glock trained on where the men had been.

  Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he made it to some bushes.

  “James,” he hissed.

  “Right over here,” came James’s reply.

  “What’s going on?” said Sadie, her voice low. Max could hear the terror in her voice.

  Max didn’t answer.

  “Just stay alert,” he said.

  He felt like he needed to give the kids some guidance, give them some instructions.

  But the truth was that Max himself was way out of his element. Sure, he’d had plenty of practice at the firing range. And now he actually had to shoot people, rather than just basic targets. Max recognized that he simply didn’t know much about strategy in a situation like this. The best he could do was rely on his instincts.

  Relying on his instincts was hard with his leg. The pain was coursing through him. He wasn’t supposed to be moving his leg this much.

  James and Sadie crawled over to where Max was. They were right next to him.

  “What’s happening?” said James. “Do you know who fired that shot?”

  Max shook his head.

  The minutes ticked by. The waiting felt like an eternity. There wasn’t another sign of the armed attackers.

  Max glanced at the corpse of the college-aged man lying in front of the house. There wasn’t a breath of life in him. His eyes were wide open. The front of his shirt was soaked with blood.

  The minivan still sat there, the driver’s door wide open.

  It was as if the minivan with its open door was inviting them. It was the perfect escape. With a little luck, they could make it into the van without getting shot. They could drive away from here.

  But they couldn’t do that.

  They couldn’t leave Chad on the roof.

  And they couldn’t leave behind Mandy and Georgia.

  On the roof of the house, Max finally saw Chad reappear.

  Max waved at him, trying to get his attention. But Chad didn’t seem to see him.

  “Psst,” came a voice from off to the side.

  “Mom?” said Sadie.

  Max turned. It was Georgia, her hunting clothes drenched in sweat. Her hair was wet and plastered down, stuck to her forehead. It looked like she’d been running hard.

  “Where’d you come from?” said James. “Are you OK?”

  Georgia was breathing so heavily it seemed hard for her to talk. She came over to where the three of them lay behind the cover of the bushes and tree trunks.

  She got down with them, setting her rifle in front of her. She had her priorities straight, and didn’t speak until she got her rifle in position.

  “I shot one of them,” she said, her voice breathless. “There were three. Two left.”

  “We saw them,” said Max. “They shot him.”

  “Who?”

  Max gestured to the corpse on the ground by the van.

  “Who the hell is he?”

  “We don’t know,” said Max. “He just showed up.”

  “Shit.”

  “You shot one of them, Mom?” said Sadie, her voice full of terror.

  “I had to,” said Georgia. “I overheard them. I don’t know who they are exactly. But what I know is that they’ve been traveling around, taking what they need and what they want. They’ve been killing indiscriminately, from the sound of it. I heard them talking about killing us all and taking the house. Or what’s in the house.”

  “This is what I was afraid of,” muttered Max.

  “Well, you’ll be happy to know you were right.”

  “Doesn’t make me happy.”

  “They’re heavily armed,” said Georgia. “One had an AR-15.”

  “Shit.”

  “What’s an AR-15?” said Sadie.

  “Assault rifle,” said James. He sounded worried, but he was keeping it together. Max was impressed. Not that he had much time to think about that now.

  Max knew they needed a plan.

  “Where are they now?” said Max.

  “I don’t know. After I shot the one, the two others just kept running. They were almost at the house. I came around the long way on the side.”

  “Why didn’t Chad do anything?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he froze up,” said Georgia.

  “Damn it,” muttered Max. “Any ideas on what to do, Georgia?”

  It had been almost fifteen minutes now. And there wasn’t a single sign or sound from the armed men.

  “Maybe they’ve left,” said Sadie.

  “I doubt it,” said Max. “You said they were definitely coming for the farmhouse, right, Georgia?”

  “Yeah,” said Georgia. “They sounded vicious and cruel. There was something horrible about their voices, and the way they talked.”

  “Sounds like they’re the kind of men who’ll do anything to get what they want,” said Max. “I doubt they’re s
imply going to leave because I fired a couple shots at them.”

  Max looked up at Chad on the roof.

  This time, Chad was looking at him.

  Chad was making gestures with his hands and his arms. But it didn’t look like any kind of system of symbols that Max could recognize.

  “Any idea what he’s trying to say?”

  “No idea,” said Georgia.

  Now Chad was pointing directly down at the house. He kept pointing down, using both hands, occasionally moving his arms for added emphasis.

  “I think he’s saying the men are in the house,” said James.

  “Shit, I think you might be right,” said Max.

  “What’s going to happen?” said Sadie.

  “It’s going to be OK, Sadie,” said Georgia. “Let’s try to figure this out.”

  “Mandy was out of the house, right?” said Max.

  “She definitely wasn’t in there,” said James.

  “Definitely not,” said Sadie. “We would have seen her.”

  “The only problem is we don’t know where she is.”

  “What are you thinking?” said Georgia.

  Max had his eyes on the house. Suddenly, there was a flash of movement in one of the upstairs windows. One of the men appeared in the window, his torso visible. But it was too quick for anyone to get a shot. He disappeared from view a second later.

  “They’re definitely in the farmhouse,” said Max. “And there’s no way we’re going to be able to enter it and take it back with force. Not with a bunch of rifles. And I’m not good for anything quick, not with this leg.”

  Max may not have been a brilliant military strategist, but he had a realistic understanding of the situation. In the movies, the hero would simply storm the house and shoot the bad guys dead, all without getting injured. But Max knew that he didn’t have those abilities, that those sorts of things were generally fiction.

  Plus, with his injured leg, there was no chance of doing that.

  “I think the best thing to do,” said Max, “is to let them stay in there.”

  “All our stuff’s in there!” said Sadie.

  “Shut up,” said James.

  “She’s got a good point,” said Max. “We need our stuff to survive. And we probably need the house, too. I’m not saying we’re going to let them take it.”