Small Town EMP (Book 3): Survive The Conflict

by Hamilton, Grace

  He sat up to find Harlen standing a few feet away, watching the sunrise. The man turned to smile at him, calm as ever. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning,” Austin grunted, getting to his feet and dusting off the dirt and debris clinging to him after sleeping on the ground.

  “You were thrashing about quite a bit the last hour or so,” Harlen said.

  Austin took a deep breath. “Sleeping isn’t easy.”

  “I imagine you’re worried about your daughter.”

  “I am.”

  “I know you’re not a big believer in a higher power, but I think it helps to have something or someone to believe in. You have to believe she’s okay. You two have managed to overcome some pretty tough circumstances, and I believe you’ll do it again,” he offered, his rich voice washing over Austin and actually calming him a bit.

  “Thanks, Harlen. I hope you’re right.”

  “I think we should probably get a move on, though. Better to walk in the early morning when it’s cooler,” Harlen suggested.

  Austin nodded, and the two of them moved around to wake the others. As they stirred, moaning and stretching, Wendell began complaining already. “The sun’s not even all the way up,” he whined.

  “Which means it’s still cool. I figure you’ll have fewer hours to complain if we move when it’s cool outside versus in the heat of the day,” Austin snapped.

  “Austin,” Ennis warned.

  They each took care of their morning business and rehydrated from a nearby stream, using their purification tablets, plastic bottles they’d found, and the small collapsible cup Harlen kept stashed in his back pocket. Then, it was time to hit the road. They had another hundred and twenty miles to go to reach Twin Falls. That was at least a five-day walk.

  As they traveled, they each ate one of the mealy protein bars. Austin had to force himself to gulp the thing down, the taste lingering in his mouth long after he’d swallowed the last bite. He heard a crinkling noise and looked around. Wendell was behind them, bringing up the rear.

  “What’s that?” he asked, noticing something shiny in Wendell’s hands.

  “Gum,” he replied nonchalantly.

  They all stopped and turned to him. “You have gum?” Ennis practically shouted.

  Wendell shrugged. “I got it out of the vending machine.”

  Austin looked at Ennis, warning him to deal with his friend before he did. Ennis stepped forward, quietly whispering to Wendell. When he turned back around, he had a pack of gum in his hand.

  “Would anyone like a piece of gum?” he asked with a forced smile.

  “Yes!” they all said, each one of them apparently anxious to erase the taste of the protein bars.

  The pack was emptied, and Ennis turned around and handed it back to Wendell, who looked ready to scream. He snatched the empty pack up and tossed it on the road.

  “Littering isn’t cool,” Austin said with a grin before turning around and continuing down the highway, which was already blanketed with trash. It appeared that no one cared about picking up after themselves. That, combined with the wind, meant that trash had been blown all over the place. If and when the power was restored and society was returned to some sense of normalcy, it was going to take a long time to clean up the world.

  They’d been walking along the highway in silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts, when Harlen pointed ahead. “What is that?” he asked.

  Austin peered in the general direction and spotted a sign made from cardboard and spray paint announcing that Tent City was just a little farther up the road, and that all were welcome.

  “Tent City?” Ennis commented.

  “You think it’s a government run refugee camp?” Harlen asked excitedly.

  “I don’t know, but I’d be interested in finding out,” Austin said.

  “What if it’s a trap?” Ennis asked, which was what Austin had also been wondering.

  “Keep everything hidden deep in your pockets. Sarah, give me the USB. If they take the laptop, I don’t want them getting that driver,” Austin said, walking up to her and helping her take off the pack.

  She’d insisted on carrying the backpack with the laptop inside. He could see she was hesitant, but he didn’t care. It was his responsibility. He grabbed it, folded the plastic bag it was stored in as small as it would go, and shoved it deep inside his front pocket.

  “Keep your eyes and ears open,” Ennis warned the group as they came upon another homemade sign.

  In the distance, they caught their first glimpse of the so-called tent city. Tents were set up in all colors, shapes, and sizes in a flat field. Everything was flat and barren. There was nothing around it—nothing but barren, dry land.

  A dirt road led from where a sign had been staked into the ground with an arrow pointing towards the tents. Austin didn’t get a dangerous vibe from the area. In fact, he could hear kids playing, which was a sound that was so foreign to his ears that he had to stop and take pause. They all did.

  “Kids?” Ennis whispered.

  “Happy kids,” Harlen replied with a smile.

  That had to be a good sign, and Austin couldn’t help being anxious to see what Tent City was all about. They passed a group of women using rakes and shovels in an area with rich, brown soil. There were healthy green potato plants thriving, and what looked like peppers and tomatoes nearby.

  “A garden. An actual garden,” Ennis said, clearly impressed.

  The women smiled and waved as their own group continued towards what could only be described as the hub of the city. A man wearing khaki shorts and a golf shirt emerged from behind a table set up right off the path.

  “Good afternoon, friends!” he greeted them with a friendly smile.

  Austin stepped forward. “Good afternoon.”

  “Are you travelers passing through or are you folks looking for a place to call home?” he asked.

  Austin looked at the others. “We’re passing through.”

  The man nodded. “I see. What is it I can do for you?”

  Austin cleared his throat, hating to ask for handouts. “Think we could do some trading?”

  “For?” the man asked.

  “We have a few things that we’d like to trade for some food if you can spare it,” he said.

  The man smiled. “Let me get the boss. She handles all the trade deals.”

  The man disappeared inside a large tent set up about twenty feet away. It was twice as big as the others and set apart from the other, smaller tents that sat clustered together. Clearly, the boss didn’t want to mix with the little people, Austin mused.

  A woman who reminded him a lot of a young Whoopi Goldberg emerged from the tent. She had a megawatt smile that would have disarmed anyone. Her long black hair was in braids pulled up into a high ponytail, and she strolled towards them with confidence to spare, extending her hand to shake Austin’s first, and then each of the others’.

  “I’m Lilly Gamblin and I guess you could call me the mayor of this fine city,” she said proudly.

  “I’m Austin; that’s Wendell, Harlen, Ennis, and Sarah,” Austin said.

  “You want to trade?” she asked, not wasting any time.

  Austin nodded. “We don’t have a lot, but we’d love to get a cooking vessel or some food. We were robbed of all our supplies yesterday, and we have a long journey ahead of us.”

  She smiled. “Of course, we can trade!”

  “Thank you,” Ennis said, stepping forward. “That sure would be helpful.”

  “Why don’t you come this way and we can talk over a glass of water,” she suggested, strolling towards another tent that looked much smaller than her own.

  A man walked by then, and something about him was awful familiar to Austin. He stopped, staring at the man’s back, and waited for him to turn around. He disappeared inside a tent before Austin could figure out why he’d looked familiar.

  An older woman ducked out of the tent they were headed towards. She looked worn and tired.
Austin glanced at what she was carrying clutched in her hands and saw several MREs that looked exactly like the ones they’d been robbed of the day before.

  “Ennis,” he hissed, grabbing his brother’s arm.

  “What is it?” Ennis asked.

  Austin pointed to the woman who was scurrying away, her back to them. “She had the same MREs we had yesterday.”

  Ennis shrugged. “They’re pretty common. I had a couple cases at the house, as well.”

  Lilly disappeared inside the tent, telling them to wait outside for her. Austin could hear low voices coming from inside. Clearly, the trade tent was a busy one. When a man in his mid-forties emerged from the tent, his eyes met Austin’s only briefly before quickly looking away. He had something tucked under his arm and two cans in his hand.

  Austin’s eyes dropped to the MREs and then went back to the man who’d turned his body, as if to shield the food from him. Austin shoved his brother hard. “Another one.”

  “What?” Ennis growled, spinning around to glare at him.

  “That man just walked out with more MREs and two cans of water—the exact kind we had yesterday,” he hissed.

  “Come in, come in,” Lilly said, holding the tent flap open and gesturing for them to go inside.

  Austin was the last one in, and that’s when he knew his suspicions were correct. The supplies, even the pack with the internal frame, were all laid out on display against one side of the tent wall.

  Lilly was trading away the goods that had been stolen from them the day before.

  22

  Amanda trudged along the highway paying attention to every sound. After the incident with the NWO soldier, she remained on high alert. That Humvee had been headed in the same direction they were going, which made her even more convinced they were on the right track. That was good and bad, of course. Great, because she was determined to get to the missiles and knock the NWO on their butts. It also meant she was going to have to fight to make it happen. The NWO wasn’t going to go down easy.

  “Think we’ll find anything?” Mike asked, nodding at a sign that indicated they were two miles from the next town.

  Amanda surveyed the area, seeing nothing that suggested they were approaching a metropolis. Maybe a roofline here and there, but nothing exciting. Nothing that held any promise of food. Their rations would only last them another day or two, though, so they had to find more food. She’d been debating whether to save the rations for the end of their journey, but knew the others would never go along with it. She wasn’t sure that even she had the kind of willpower it would take not to eat the little food they had when they were absolutely starving. And what was the point of storing up energy for the end-fight if they’d have so little energy that they couldn’t reach the fight to begin with?

  “I don’t know. We should probably get off the main road. We’ll try and find a way around without attracting a lot of attention. I don’t want to fight. We have to save our strength,” she muttered.

  “I agree,” Mike said.

  “We need to refill our water bottles,” Gretchen said from behind her and Mike.

  “Okay, we’ll do that. We’ll need to start a fire to purify the water,” Amanda said, more to herself than anyone else as she made a mental list of what needed to happen. “We’ll have two people on water duty and the rest of us will divide into two groups and check for any useful supplies.”

  There was a quiet murmur as the others all agreed. It was a hot day, and they’d been walking most of it. Amanda knew they were all exhausted. She guessed they were close to the halfway point of their journey, which wasn’t all that encouraging. She’d known the journey was going to be long and hard, but knowing it and getting through it were two very different things.

  “There’s a couple houses over there,” Ezra said, pointing to the east.

  Amanda’s eyes scanned the area, looking for signs that the homes were being guarded. They’d learned the hard way more than once that, just because a house looked empty, that didn’t mean it was empty. The occupants were too often lying in wait, ready to defend their little corner of the world.

  “I think we keep going into town. I don’t want to waste time searching houses that are too far off the road,” she replied.

  They kept moving down the two-lane highway, seeing a gas station on the right and a propane store on the left. An old restaurant with windows that had been boarded up was the only other business on the main drag through the small town.

  “I think this was a ghost town even before the fall,” Gretchen said as they slowed their pace.

  A gurgling stream ran parallel with the highway starting about twenty feet away. Amanda made note of it, thinking they should make camp while it was still in sight for the night as an easy source of water. They’d be able to purify as much as they need and re-stock without issue.

  They came to an intersection and peered in each direction. Left and right looked to lead into small housing areas, and straight ahead was the highway that would continue on in the direction of Cheyenne. The place felt deserted.

  “Let’s do some brief scouting. Everyone, be careful. It looks empty, but they could be hiding,” Amanda warned. “We’ll meet back here.”

  “Do we split into two groups?” Jordan asked.

  “Yes. Jordan, you take Gretchen, Ezra, and Drew. Tonya and Mike, you’re with me,” Amanda said.

  Everyone moved into their respective groups, Amanda leading her team to the left while the others went to the right. A breeze swept through the area, blowing scraps of trash across the highway. The whole scene had the feel of a very old Western. They’d seen a few places like this on their way east. Towns abandoned altogether, or spots where people had mostly been killed or chased off, with only a few lonely survivors trying to make it.

  It was all part of the NWO’s plan. They were killing off small-town America. The people were being driven into the cities to strengthen the NWO or else forced to band together to fight back. She remembered her journey west with Austin. There’d been a lot more people and a lot more fighting. Things had changed even in the short time since. It didn’t take long before starvation, sickness, and death brought people to their knees and right to the doors of the NWO. It was a sad situation. If the darkness persisted much longer, there’d be even fewer groups of survivors. Soon enough, small towns would be completely empty as the remaining holdouts looked for shelter out of the NWO’s reach—if there was such a place.

  “I don’t think anyone is here,” Tonya whispered as they walked inside a modest, older home with its front door left wide open.

  “I agree,” Amanda said, checking the kitchen cupboards for food and supplies. She could hear Mike in the living room, overturning furniture. People got very creative with their hiding places, they had learned.

  The trio searched several more homes, finding nothing of value that could be useful to them on their journey. Back outside, Amanda looked down the road, noticing several tall, fluffy trees in the front yard of a two-story house at the end. It was clearly the nicest house in town.

  “Looks promising,” Mike said from beside her.

  “It does. Let’s go,” she said.

  They approached slowly, experience telling them that a house like this one would be where the remaining townspeople would choose to live. Why wouldn’t they, after all? Why live in a shack when there was a beautiful home sitting empty and up for the taking?

  Amanda took the first step that led onto the covered porch of the house, which looked to have been built sometime in the early 1900s. It was the kind of house she loved—with that old, southern charm in every detail, right down to the pillars on either side of the front door that was about halfway open.

  “Hello?” she called out, not wanting to startle anyone into shooting her.

  “Be right there!” a male voice replied immediately.

  Amanda froze, her foot resting on the second step. She looked behind her, staring at Mike’s shocked expression. She hadn’t exp
ected anyone to actually answer her, let alone with a casual tone. Tonya stood at the bottom of the stairs, her eyes wide enough to make the fear she felt more than clear.

  “Shh,” Amanda whispered, using her head to gesture both Mike and Tonya to the side of the porch where there were green shrubs to use as cover.

  A man appeared in the open doorway then. He was wiping his hands on a dish towel, his eyes weary and pronounced with heavy, dark circles under them. He wasn’t a large man—maybe five-eight, thin, and not at all threatening. He wore a red-checkered apron that one might have expected to see on a woman baking pies in a country kitchen.

  “Hello,” he said, his voice matching the exhausted look on his face. “Are you sick?”

  Amanda slowly shook her head, her hand resting on the butt of the gun tucked into her waistband. “No. Are you sick?”

  He smirked, putting a hand on his hip. “Do I look sick? Never mind, don’t answer that. What can I do for you? I need to get back to my patients.”

  “Your patients?” Amanda echoed, taking a step up the stairs.

  “Yes, my patients. My name is Dr. Robin Ashworth. I’m treating a group of people who’ve been sickened with what I suspect is typhoid.”

  Amanda involuntarily flinched, leaning back and away from the doctor as if that would keep her from catching a disease that wasn’t spread through the air. “Typhoid?” she echoed, her voice shrill as her mind conjured up images of African villages with dying children.

  “Yes. I need to get back. I don’t have anything to offer. The few supplies I have must go to the sickest,” he said, turning and disappearing inside the door.

  Amanda turned back, looking down the steps. “I think it’s clear. I’m going inside,” she said to the unseen Mike and Tonya.

  Mike emerged from the bushes surrounding the front of the porch. “We’ll come with you. You never know what you’re walking into.”