EMP Crash (Book 5): Hostile Grounds

by Kip Nelson

  For a moment, she paused to look up at the stars and hoped that somewhere out there Mack was looking at them, too, and that he would be returning soon. He quickly had become one of the most important people in her life, and she wanted to be given the chance to tell him that. All through her life the stars had been a constant reminder of how small and insignificant she was in comparison to the vast, endless cosmos, but it was also a reminder of how, even though she was so small, she still mattered and still could influence other people's lives. Whether that was a good thing or not she had yet to decide.

  She made her way to the place of worship, which for convenience's sake she referred to as a church, as Christianity was the most common religion of the people in the community, and “place of worship” was a mouthful. It was open at all hours of the day for anyone who wanted to spend some time in personal reflection, and usually Mindy or Hank were around in case people needed to talk. On this occasion, however, it was deserted, which was fine by Grace as there wasn't any person she wanted to talk with.

  She opened the door and was bathed in the light of the lanterns that hung all around the sides of the hall. The door closed softly behind her and, for a while, she could shut out the world. Shadows danced on the walls, and moonlight slanted through one of the windows, casting a silver beam in the middle of the floor. Her shoes tapped against the hard, wooden floor as she walked toward the altar and the noise echoed around her. Grace walked into the moonlight and fell to her knees. Nerves rushed through her and goosebumps prickled her skin.

  She knelt there a few moments, not saying a word, although her mind was alive with thoughts. The mere act of being on her knees was admitting to herself something that had been growing within her for a while now, that she was a woman of faith. But feeling this new sensation was strange and overwhelming, and something that she was not used to as she had spent most of her life feeling empty inside and yet, now, she was filled with something glorious.

  She closed her eyes for she felt self-conscious when they were open. At first, she clasped her hands together and felt the warmth of her own flesh, but then separated them and rested them on her thighs. She laughed awkwardly and heard the soft echoes fade into silence.

  “Dear Lord,” she began uncertainly, “I don't know if this is the right way to go about doing this because this is the first time I've ever done it, but I'm in need of help and guidance. I always felt as though there was nothing in this world, but now I know that you're out there. I don't know how I can explain it, but I just know you are, and that you've probably been watching me for a long time. I know I haven't always been the best person I could be. I've broken the law, and I've been mean to people, such as the people who tried to care for me when I was younger, but I'm trying to be better now. This is a new world, and I'm trying to be a new woman with it, but it's so difficult.

  “I tried to be like Mack. He makes it look so easy, and I don't know where I've gone wrong. I thought I could lead the people of this settlement, and that we all could grow together, but I feel as though I've let them down, that I've let everyone down. Not just them, but Luis, Saul, and all the rest as well, because they trusted me. They believed in me. Without me, this never would have happened. Bob still would be in charge and, yeah, he'd be calling for war, but that's what we're getting anyway, and he's better suited to prepare them than I am. I don't know...maybe I was so quick to do this because I wanted to prove to myself that I can make it in this world.

  “Things had changed so much. I used to know exactly what I was good at. I used to know my purpose, but I haven't touched a keyboard with these fingers for months. Maybe it was stupid of me to think that I could be like Mack and be what these people needed. But being a leader isn't as easy as just telling everyone what to do. I didn't think about all the possibilities. I didn't see all the angles, and the people of this settlement are going to pay the price for my mistakes.”

  Grace hung her head and exhaled deeply. “I guess all I'm asking for is a little help. I don't know how this is supposed to work, and there was a time when I never could have imagined myself in this position, but I come to you as a servant. Please show me the way, show me what I'm supposed to do, so that I can be the person I promised these people I would be.”

  There she stayed through the night, kneeling on the floor, waiting for the answer she so desperately wanted, and nobody disturbed her. At one point, Hank came to check on her. He opened the door but saw that she was in quiet reverie, and did not want to disturb her. He had been in silent communion with the Lord many times, and knew that it was something sacred that should not be interrupted. He closed the door behind him and smiled, proud that another one of the Lord's flock had been shepherded back to him.

  “Is she in there?” Luis asked as he came up to Hank. The preacher placed his palms in front of him, gesturing for Luis to calm down.

  “Yes, she is,” he said in a quiet tone, hoping that Luis would take the hint and lower his own voice. Hank was standing in front of a window, and Luis propped himself up on his tiptoes to try peering beyond the tall, broad shoulders of the preacher.

  “Well, can I see her?” Luis said.

  “I don't think that's the best idea.”

  “Why not?” Luis asked, his nostrils flaring. Hank smiled, trying to defuse the tension.

  “Because she is deep in prayer. She is talking with the Lord and we should not interrupt it.”

  “But I need to speak with her. She needs company. She shouldn't be alone right now.”

  “On the contrary, she is exactly where she needs to be. She is looking for guidance, Luis. I know you want to help her, and care for her, and that is admirable, but you also must realize when she needs to be alone. Right now, she is seeking solace from the Lord. I don't know if you have noticed, but it's been a gradual journey for her, and this is the first time she has embraced her new faith openly. We should not interfere with that. This is a journey she must make in her own time, and at her own pace. To break in there now only would make her angry with you. There will be plenty of time for the two of you to talk soon, of that I am sure. She cares for you deeply, and will need your companionship, but for now we must leave her in peace.”

  Luis seemed unconvinced, but he knew Hank was right about one thing; Grace would be mad if he interrupted her and he didn't want to feel her ire. So, he waited impatiently with Hank, hoping that whatever Grace was doing would help her, would help them all.

  The following morning Grace emerged like a butterfly from a chrysalis. There was an air of clarity about her and an aura of contentment. She looked refreshed even though she had not slept all night, and when she smiled it was with a peaceful and calm serenity. She embraced Luis and kissed him softly, then told him and Hank to help her gather the people of the community so she could address them. It took them a while to get everyone to come to City Hall, but eventually word spread, and they all stood before Grace like a great sea. Grace raised her arms to quell the murmurs that rippled through the crowd.

  “As many of you no doubt already know, we captured a thief last night. That was my plan. I had hoped that by doing so we would show the other faction that this settlement will not meekly surrender that which we have worked so hard for. I also hoped that by taking a hostage we could open the lines of communication and negotiate a peace.

  “I regret to inform you that my hopes were misplaced. The prisoner threatened us. It's clear these people are not interested in diplomacy. I'm sorry. I have failed you. I promised you a better way, but I am not going to lie to you. Part of being a good leader is knowing when to admit that I've been wrong, and when I need help. I misjudged the situation and I apologize to you all for that. I would like for Bob to come up here so I can apologize to him in person as well, and also to ask for his help.” Her eyes searched the crowd for movement but there was none forthcoming.

  The longer they waited, the more people became agitated and concerned. Muttering swept through the undulating mass of people. Grace inwardly cursed a
t Bob. She had tried to be magnanimous and hoped he would have been able to put his opinion of her to one side for the sake of the people, but it seemed as though he was being petty. However, it soon became clear that nobody knew where he was, and her annoyance soon turned to worry. She looked up to the clear sky and, once again, asked the Lord for the strength to make it through these trials.

  CHAPTER THREE

  EVERYTHING SEEMED to happen in slow motion for Mack. He saw Tristan turn and run, and all Mack wanted to do was to pull him back and keep him in place. The revelations evidently had been true, as Tristan would not have run away if the man had been lying about the things the Lost Children had done. But in Maggie's eyes Mack saw the greatest pain imaginable. She was torn between going after her son and stopping the man from firing. Her motherly instincts overrode those she had honed as a police officer, and she went after her son. Tristan ducked when he ran and moved away at an angle, pushing off with his long legs to sprint away as the tears flew from his young eyes.

  This meant the man holding the rifle had to aim again, which gave Mack a precious few seconds to alter the seemingly inexorable destiny. If he was too slow, the bullet would leave the man's gun and fly through the air, piercing Tristan's back, sending him crumpling to the ground. Mack didn't know the true story behind what the man was saying, but he wasn't about to let Tristan be shot. Just as the man was squeezing the trigger, Mack lunged forward and pushed the man's arm, altering the rifle’s trajectory. Mack heard a curdled yell, and then felt the tremors of the rifle ripple along the man's arm. It was as though he was aware of everything in that moment, the pained look on Maggie's face as she felt powerless to do anything to save her son, the fear in Tristan's eyes as he sprinted away, trying to outrun his past, and the anger in the man's entire body, wanting to hurt Tristan for all his suffering.

  Once the bullet was fired time, sped up. The bullet hit the edge of a building and caused some debris to fall away, scattering to the ground. Maggie looked back and saw Mack wrestling with the man, and knew she had a chance to reach her son. Without a second thought, she followed him, running as fast as she could to chase him around the corner, where he disappeared from view. Mack watched them leave, and then turned his attention to the man, who was struggling with him, trying to wrench the rifle away and chase after his prey.

  “You should have let me have him,” the man grunted as he puffed out his cheeks and summoned all the rage and pain to fuel his strength.

  Mack breathed and coughed, for the acrid stench of his adversary reached all the way down into his throat and made him gag. Even though Mack was a trained fighter, it was not an easy to defeat someone as the movies made it seem. The man was possessed and determined, and he had a gun. Mack not only had to overpower this man, but also avoid being caught in the rifle's line of sight, as then the fight would be over in an instant and Mack would be lying on the ground with a smoking hole in his head.

  As he struggled with the man, Mack could see he had been through a lot, and this new world had been hard on him. Pain and violence most likely were the only things he had left. As they wrestled, Mack found himself pitying this man, lamenting that the world had turned people like him into broken and twisted wreckage, just as it had the city. Mack felt his foot being stomped on and loosened his grip for a moment, which allowed the man to dig his nails into Mack's arm, freeing the rifle. The man was about to swing the long weapon around, the metal on the rifle gleaming in the sun, but Mack was quick and jabbed at the man's ribs. The man doubled over and Mack used the opportunity to barrel into him, pushing him down to the ground, making sure to stay close so it was harder for him to use the rifle.

  The two men groped and punched on the ground, trying to gain purchase. They rolled over and over. Mack felt the hard ground underneath him. He twisted his leg around the other man's thigh and used his strength to push him away, punching him in the side of the neck. The man winced in pain and his hand instinctively came up to protect his face, but in doing so he lost grip of the rifle. Mack batted it away and the weapon scuttled across the ground, resting a few yards away.

  The man looked at it hungrily, knowing it was the only advantage he had and the only way he was going to be able to get out of this. He lunged for it, but Mack reached up and hit the man in the throat, sending him backward, gurgling. Then Mack used his legs to twist the man around so he could punch him in the face, then rose to his feet. Mack quickly wiped his brow and readied himself for another attack, but the man rose more quickly than Mack had anticipated, darting into Mack's torso with a forceful blow. Mack felt the wind being knocked out of him and he doubled over, falling onto the man's back. More jabs followed, trained onto Mack's midsection, and Mack had to plant his feet in the ground so he wasn't forced back, for he knew that the man was trying to push him near the gun.

  Mack steeled himself against the pain and pushed it away from himself so he could better focus on winning the fight. The man was like an animal, fighting to survive, willing to scrap and scrape and use any means necessary to emerge victorious, and that made him dangerous. Mack ignored the pain and clubbed his fists together, bringing them down on the man's back again and again, hearing the drum beat that thumped against the man’s body.

  When Mack felt the man's grip loosen, he raised his knee sharply and felt it crack bone. The man reeled back, holding his nose. Blood poured forth, crimson flowing between his hands. He was dazed and Mack seized the advantage. He pushed all his weight onto one foot then launched forward, his fist meeting the man's face, twisting his neck back. The man collapsed onto a jagged piece of rock, his head landing with a sharp, grisly crack, and then lolled limply, the light in his eyes having disappeared.

  Mack walked over and looked down at him, feeling pity for the man who had been driven to such rage. Breathing heavily, he took a few moments to catch his breath and wipe the sweat from his brow, then moved to pick up the rifle. Holding it in his hand he marched around the corner, where he found Tristan and Maggie locked in an embrace, both of them crying.

  While Mack had been locked in exhaustive combat, Maggie had rounded the corner and called after her son. He had slowed his pace and turned to face her, the color of his skin ashen, with tears rolling down his cheeks. He sobbed and couldn't even look at her. She walked up to him and embraced him, holding him as though she never would let him go, because she never wanted to do so. She had been waiting for so long to hold him like this, to let the years and the mistakes fall away, and just be mother and son, just like they had been, once upon a time, in a world that seemed so long ago, when they had far fewer things to worry about and he had been an innocent bystander in the world. She gestured to a collection of debris nearby that served as chairs and they sat down. Maggie continued holding his hand in hers as she told him to speak, asking if what the man said was true. Tristan nodded and sniffed, speaking in halting breaths as he tried pulling back the tears.

  “All of it. We were horrible. Peter told us we needed to strike out at the world, that we were the ones who had to show people the way. There were groups of people, people just trying to survive, and we stole from them. We scared them. We tore their clothes from their bodies just because we could, because Peter said we had to be cruel so people would take us seriously. He said that to them we all were just kids, but to the world we could be anything because nothing was the same anymore. He said we didn't need to be afraid, that it was everyone who needed to be afraid of us.

  “I knew what we were doing was wrong, but at the time it seemed like the right thing to do. It made sense, and I guess I just pushed it away. It was the only thing that made sense. After everything that had happened in the city, we all needed that and we just...we just went along with it. I'm sorry, Mom. I'm so sorry. I kept thinking about you, but I figured you were dead. I had nothing except them, and I didn't want to be alone again. I couldn't bear it. We were a family, and if that was the price of being together, we all were willing to pay it, but now I see it was wrong and I'm just so sorry
.”

  Maggie let him speak without saying a word in response, knowing he had to get it all off his chest. As she listened to him speak she, too, felt his pain, felt every grim part of it, and wished she could reach into his heart and take it into hers, because she hated knowing that he had been through so much and she had not been there to help him. Her heart broke in that instant, as it had broken so many times when she had been alone and looked to the stars, wondering if he was still out there, alive. In some ways, this was a fate worse than death, as he always would have to live with what he had done. The guilt always would weigh down his soul, and she knew that he was growing up far too soon, that this world was making them all grow up too quickly.

  She squeezed his hand tightly and wrapped her arm around his neck, pulling him into her, feeling his quaking body tremble with sobs as a flood of sorrow poured out of him. All the emotion he had been holding inside soaked her shoulder, but it was the greatest feeling in the world. She was his mother again, just as she had been when he was younger and scraped his knee, she was there now, and as long as the two of them were together, everything was going to be fine.

  In the distance, Maggie was conscious of the sounds of the fight, but they were faint noises, mere whispers compared to the bellows of her son's tears. Eventually, he calmed down a little, and she rubbed his back. When he finished crying, he rubbed his nose on his sleeve and she scolded him, which offered them a moment of normality. They smiled together as they remembered how she always used to do that.

  “I'm not such a kid anymore, Mom,” he said with sadness in his voice.

  “No, but you'll always be my son,” she replied, and stroked the side of his face. But she still had one more question to ask him, a question to which she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer.