Surviving the Blackout: A Post Apocalyptic EMP Thriller (Surviving the EMP Book 4)

by Ryan Casey

  She was sitting in front of her caravan, looking out at sea. Mrs Fuzzles was sitting on her lap. Mrs Fuzzles had really taken to Hazel ever since Wayne had died, and Hazel had taken to her in turn. Wayne was the one who had taken Mrs Fuzzles into his care, so in a way, it seemed like she made Hazel feel close to him now he was gone.

  It had been tough on Hazel, what happened to Wayne. It had been hell for Jack, but nothing on what it had been for Hazel. She was the one who had brought him up. She was the one who had raised him.

  And then he was gone. Snuffed out in a brutal conflict that never had to happen, just like that.

  But she was coping so well.

  And he’d be here for her, through all of it.

  Jack walked across the road, over to her side.

  “Morning.”

  Hazel looked around at him as if she were waking from a trance. There was still a distance about her; still a disconnection from reality. She was paler. Thinner. A haunted look to her eyes.

  But at the same time, at least she was settled here. They were all settled here.

  “Hi,” she said.

  She didn’t say much. She never did. The connection between them was tenuous at best. The demons of the past still haunted them, and they couldn’t have been made easier by Pete—her husband, Jack’s former best friend’s—disappearance either.

  But they had been united by tragedy. The worst kind of tragedy.

  It was ironic, in a way. India’s death had torn them apart.

  It felt like Wayne’s death had brought them back together.

  What a horrible, brutal irony.

  “Just off to work,” Jack said, making small talk as well as he could.

  Hazel nodded. Mrs Fuzzles didn’t growl anymore, she just sat on Hazel’s lap and purred as she stroked her. “Looks like it’s gonna be another warm day.”

  Jack looked out towards the Irish Sea. Looked at the gradually rising sun rippling on the water. “Yeah,” he said, as if it was even a surprise anymore.

  The days had been intense. The thermometers had cracked forty on a number of occasions. Jack could be under no doubts that the solar event was responsible in some way. It couldn’t be mere coincidence.

  But it was winter he worried about. Would that be warm, too? Or would it take a turn for the extreme?

  There was no point fighting it.

  One way or another, eventually, they were going to find out.

  There were so many things he wanted to talk about with Hazel. So many things he wanted to discuss. So many things he wanted to get off his chest. He wanted to apologise for the past. He wanted to tell her how much he wished he’d stayed with her.

  He wanted to tell her how he felt about her.

  How he still felt about her.

  There was still so much between them that needed to be out in the air; that needed to be addressed.

  But this wasn’t the moment.

  It was never the moment.

  “I should, um—”

  “Yeah,” Hazel said. “You have a good day.”

  Jack smiled. “You too.”

  He lingered for a few seconds. Villain growled at Mrs Fuzzles, who didn’t look remotely bothered by anything.

  And then he turned and walked.

  His walk to work was nice. A five minute stretch right through the caravan site. He passed familiar faces on his way. He saw Harry, a well-built blond guy who was getting along well with Bella. He passed by Candice’s caravan. She worked with the cattle. Then there was Emma’s caravan. Emma was one of the only kids here, so she had private lessons educating her about the essentials of survival in a world like this—as well as the lessons that would make sure she was ready if ever the power did come back on.

  All of his people were here.

  And they were happy.

  Or at least, as happy as they could be.

  He took a deep breath. Smiled.

  Then as he made his way to the fields, he saw something.

  There was someone in the distance beyond the caravan site.

  Three unfamiliar faces.

  Lurking around the fields.

  Instinctively, the hairs on his neck stood on end. He saw them as a threat. He wanted to go over there. Deal with them. Imprison them. Or worse.

  But then he felt those ties around him suppressing him from doing a thing, and he walked back towards Harry.

  “You okay, Jack?”

  Jack looked over his shoulder, back towards the people lurking around their caravan site. “There’s some people over there. Probably worth checking out.”

  Harry wiped his glasses, rested them on his nose. He didn’t seem too concerned. “Armed?”

  “Not that I could see. But—”

  “Stolen anything?”

  “No, but I think you should—”

  “Probably just passers-by. We get a few of them. It’s not just us surviving in this world, after all. Relax, Jack. It’ll be cool.”

  Jack saw Harry’s smile and it turned his stomach. He liked Harry, but he didn’t like what his nonchalance represented.

  Because these people could be enemies.

  They could be a threat.

  But…

  He nodded. “You’re right. I’m probably just being paranoid. Have a good’un, anyway.”

  “You too mate. Bit of tennis later if you fancy it?”

  “Getting pasted by you again? Think I’ll give it a miss.”

  He laughed as he walked away.

  But his happiness was only on the outside.

  He couldn’t bring himself to look over to the edge of the caravan site, over towards those people.

  He wanted to deal with them.

  Those ingrained leadership instincts were picking up and threatening to take control.

  But he wasn’t a leader anymore.

  Bad things happened when he was leader.

  He didn’t make the decisions anymore.

  And it was for the best that he didn’t.

  He walked over towards the crop fields.

  When he finally glanced over towards the edge of the woods, the people lurking around had gone.

  Chapter Three

  Later that night, after the day’s duties were completed, Jack sat with the rest of his people around a campfire down by the beach.

  It was something of a tradition of theirs. Every Wednesday night, they’d light a fire in memory of the ones they’d lost. It kept them together. Kept them close. It reminded them of what they’d lost, so that nothing like that ever happened again.

  They couldn’t afford anything like that happening again.

  They’d already lost far too much, as a group.

  And as individuals, too.

  The night was humid. It wasn’t much cooler than the day, in all truth. There was a thickness to the air that made it hard to sleep at night.

  Sleep wasn’t something Jack got in abundance anymore. It was a luxury that he took whenever he could get it.

  But sleep didn’t bring him peace.

  It was moments like these, sitting around the fire with the people he cared about, which brought him peace.

  The sea crashed against the coast. A gentle breeze accompanied the water. It was relaxing, sitting here on the rocks, listening to it. Took him back to better days. Days long gone.

  Hazel sat opposite him, Mrs Fuzzles glued to her side. Candice was here, as was Bella. Harry had come along with her. There was a weird reluctance from Jack to let him into their little circle at first, but he looked out for Bella. He seemed genuinely empathetic about what had happened with Wayne.

  And then there was Emma.

  Emma was a quiet girl. It was hard to know how to handle someone like this—not only a kid who had been thrust into a world that no child should ever have to withstand, but also someone who had once been on Logan’s side.

  It was different with Candice. Her travelling with Logan was a companionship of convenience.

  With Emma, it was different.

/>   She had genuinely liked him.

  She had genuinely seen something in him.

  And the fact she’d had to stand against him had torn her apart in ways Jack dreaded to think about.

  In a world without power, morals were a very murky beast.

  Tonight should’ve brought respite, as they held fresh chicken skewers over the flames. It should have brought comfort, like it always did.

  But there was something else on Jack’s mind.

  He couldn’t stop thinking about the group on the outskirts of the caravan site.

  He couldn’t stop thinking about the state of some of the crops.

  He couldn’t stop thinking about what was next.

  “You okay, Jack?”

  It was Candice who spoke. She always had a way of figuring out when something was on his mind.

  “I’m okay,” Jack said, barely eating any of the chicken skewer. “It’s just…”

  “Go on,” Candice said. “Speak up. You know what we do if we have any issues. We air them. It’s what keeps us close. Right?”

  Jack gritted his teeth and sighed. “I’m just starting to get the feeling that there’s something else for us out there.”

  Candice frowned. Hazel frowned. Everybody frowned.

  “What?”

  “This place is good. I’m not discrediting or belittling that in any way. It’s comfortable. There’s a decent area for crops. Our links are okay. But—”

  “This better be a good ‘but’,” Candice said.

  Jack knew he was fighting a losing battle already. “It’s not sustainable,” he said. “Not in the long term, anyway.”

  “Not sustainable?” It was Harry who spoke now. “Mate, we have crops. We have good hunting routes. We have chickens—”

  “The crops aren’t in perfect condition. The water supplies are too limited. The bulk of the crops won’t last the summer, let alone whatever winter that’s coming. The location isn’t right for them, especially not to feed twenty people. The water filtration systems we have are archaic. We need to set up something better. Something more automated. As for animals… the chickens and the geese are great, sure, but they’re not enough. If something happens to them, just like happened to the cows, we’re down to just hunting, and we’re not good enough at it.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Bella said.

  “We’re not good enough at it,” Jack said. “We’re good enough to catch the odd animal, sure. But again, not to feed everyone here.”

  Nobody spoke.

  The fire crackled before them.

  “I’m sorry to put a dampener on tonight,” Jack said. “I’m sorry to just drop things on you all like this. But it’s—it’s the truth. Or at least it’s the truth as far as I see it. This place isn’t sustainable. Not in the long term. So it’s about time we started thinking about… the next step.”

  “And what do you propose?”

  It was Hazel who broke the silence.

  She looked at Jack with narrowed eyes.

  “Well,” Jack said, “seeing as you ask. I think we should warn everyone here about what I’ve observed. The people on the edge of the woods. And…” He stopped. This didn’t feel comfortable. It felt too much like leadership. Too much like he was the one responsible. He’d been there before. He’d made pledges never to go there again.

  But he was only sharing his opinion.

  His professional opinion.

  “And what?” Hazel asked.

  Jack went to speak.

  He saw the rest of the group staring at him and he froze.

  Because this felt too familiar.

  And the last time this had happened, he knew everything that had followed.

  His people had every right to be sceptical.

  He was just as sceptical himself.

  “I’m only saying what—what I think’s best.”

  “You’ve made decisions for us in the past,” Hazel said.

  Jack felt his muscles weakening. Don’t go there. Please. Please don’t.

  “Hazel,” Jack said. “I—”

  “You’ve led this group before. You’ve made decisions for us and look where they got us.”

  “Don’t—”

  “They got our son killed.”

  Jack heard the words like a bucket of ice covering his body.

  Candice looked at Hazel, now. “Hazel…”

  But the way she said it, and the way she looked.

  Jack knew she agreed with Hazel.

  She was just too sensitive to put it out in the open in quite the same way.

  “We aren’t going to find anywhere better than here,” Hazel said. “We aren’t going to find anywhere with this kind of land, and this kind of shelter. And we can grow. We can build. This isn’t static. It isn’t set in stone. And you’re willing to give all that up for what? A paranoid hunch?”

  Jack opened his mouth to protest.

  Hazel cut in first. “Because we’ve been here before. And last time, it got people killed. It got our son killed.”

  She said it again and Jack felt the thorn digging in once more.

  The reminder, again, not that he needed it.

  He wanted to stand up.

  He wanted to protest.

  He wanted to make it clear that this wasn’t just a paranoid hunch. It was his honest feelings.

  But then he closed his mouth.

  He looked into the fire.

  He backed down.

  He knew his place now.

  And he had to be happy with that.

  He didn’t want to be leader.

  He didn’t want to be in that position again.

  And that’s how things had to stay.

  Chapter Four

  Jack stayed out on the beach a lot later than the others.

  He stared into the smouldering embers of the fire and listened to the waves. He didn’t need a jacket, because it wasn’t cold. It was never cold anymore.

  It was just him and Villain, sitting together by that fire, staring.

  He wasn’t thinking of anything in particular. His thoughts just kept drifting back to that conversation he’d had with the rest of the group earlier. Expressing his concerns about this place. Questioning its long-term sustainability.

  Only to be met with the brutal reminder from Hazel that he was responsible for the death of their son.

  That the last time he’d gone down a path of uncertainty and mistrust, it’d almost destroyed them all.

  That the last time he’d made the calls, it had ended in tragedy and disaster.

  His concerns were legitimate. He was sure of that.

  But what if Hazel was right?

  What if this was just paranoia?

  It couldn’t just be a coincidence that he’d seen the group lurking around the campsite earlier and now he was feeling this way, right?

  He took a deep breath and then he heard footsteps.

  Villain looked up.

  Instinctively, Jack felt a defensiveness.

  “You don’t have to worry,” the voice said. “Only me.”

  Jack’s tension slipped away immediately as Candice appeared around the other side of the fire. She sat right before him, looked at the embers. It was just the pair of them, Villain aside.

  Jack didn’t say anything to her. Not at first. He just sat there, patted Villain on his head.

  “I was thinking of heading to bed in a sec—”

  “What happened earlier,” Candice said. “With Hazel…”

  Jack turned away. He wanted to leave this conversation immediately. He didn’t like the direction it was going in. “Really, it’s getting late. We should be heading off to—”

  “She doesn’t mean it,” she said. “She just… It hurts her. What happened. Just like it hurts you. Just like it hurts me.”

  Jack nodded. He appreciated Candice was only trying to comfort and reassure him, but he knew she was lying. “She does mean it,” he said. “Because it’s true.”

  Candice sighe
d. “Don’t you go slipping into self-pity.”

  “It’s not slipping into anything.”

  “You shot Jean. You’ve owned that. You tried to work towards resolution. You tried to de-escalate things. But you didn’t pull the trigger on your son, Jack. It was Logan who did that. He was the one who was responsible. And he’s gone now. Long gone.”

  “Try telling Hazel that. She blames me for the death of our son. Just like she blamed me for…”

  He stopped, then. His words had trailed off.

  “You know, before I met you, I thought you were a real bastard.”

  Jack raised his eyebrows. “Sounds about right.”

  “All I saw was one thing. One side of the story. You walked away from your son. You left him. I saw Wayne’s hatred of you. I saw how much he despised you. But then I met you. And… and as much as I’ve wanted to hate you, I can’t. You stepped up. You went through hell, sure. You made some mistakes. But then we’ve all made mistakes. We’ve all done things we regret, for one reason or another. But you owned your mistakes. As painful and as destructive as those mistakes may have been, you owned them. And that sets you apart from a hell of a lot of people. More than you realise.”

  “But none of it matters, Candice. Wayne’s gone. That’s all Hazel will ever see. All any of you will ever see. I was leader when that happened. So I was the one who—”

  “This problem,” Candice said, cutting him off before he could wallow in self-pity any more. “The talk about the long-term future of this place. Is that something legitimate? Genuinely? Or is it just paranoia?”

  Jack sighed. He thought about what to say—what he truly believed. And he wrestled with that idea of leadership once again. “I think this place has issues. But… but perhaps those issues can be resolved.”

  “And how can they be resolved?”

  “I guess gathering some cattle from a nearby farm would be a start. Or at least building some kind of alliance. A trade agreement, of sorts. Some of our crops in return for something of theirs.”

  “But you think the crops aren’t going to last, right?”

  Jack scratched his head. “Like I said. I have my concerns. I think this place is vulnerable. It’s on low ground. Anyone approaches us and they could easily cut us off and surround us, if they wanted to. But maybe you’re right. Maybe you’re all right. We aren’t going to find anywhere better. Anywhere we go, there are going to be problems. Perhaps this is still the best option we’ve got after all.”