Island Refuge EMP Box Set | Books 1-3

by Hamilton, Grace

She had reached the housing for the water pump, and she squatted down in front of it. Turning the handle, she pulled open the access door, revealing the relatively small pump motor resting on its concrete foundation. A pipe ran directly from the pump, through the housing, into the side of the storage tank. She turned a knob to shut access.

  Elna noticed a problem right away. The spigot where the hose attached to the pump had somehow come loose. She gently pulled it to one side and revealed a massive crack in the metal above the threads.

  “Nothing a little duct tape won’t fix,” Malin said, giving a halfhearted chuckle.

  “Maybe,” she replied, but something else had already drawn her gaze, “but it won’t fix this.”

  She touched the bottom edge of the motor, which was black from char. Leaning down lower, she realized the whole bottom edge of the water pump was black.

  “Looks like it caught on fire,” she said. “Must’ve sparked when the EMP hit. The motor’s burned out.”

  “I guess we won’t be pumping water,” he said.

  “We don’t give up that easily,” she said, smiling at him. She didn’t have a backup plan yet, but she was bound and determined to create a steady source of water, no matter what it took.

  She shut the access door and stood up, winding up the hose and laying it at her feet.

  “What are you thinking?” Malin asked.

  “First, we round up all the hoses on the property,” she said. “That alone will be a big job, trust me. After that, we’ll…” She didn’t exactly know what happened after that, but she was beginning to formulate an idea that involved creating a fully mechanical pump. Still, she wasn’t nearly as confident as she wanted to appear. The need to prove herself only made it harder. “Well, you’ll see. Come on.”

  “Okay, but if we’re heading off around the property, we really have to watch out for Selene’s ex,” Malin said, helping her drag the hose in. “A guy like that doesn’t give up.”

  “I know,” she said. “We can arm ourselves before we set out. Let’s go.”

  Back at the guesthouse, they found Elna’s father hard at work in the kitchen. It looked like he was attempting to can the remaining fresh vegetables that hadn’t been consumed at their big lunch. A long row of Mason jars was set on the marble-slab countertop, and Pop was busy separating the vegetables into plastic bowls. Norman was at work over by one of the big sinks. Elna noted in passing that he had some slabs of meat on a cutting board beside a few large industrial cartons of salt.

  “Preserving the meat?” she asked him in passing.

  Norman tipped an imaginary hat to her. “That’s right. Figure we can dry and salt it to make it last. This is probably the last beef we’ll eat in a very long time.”

  Elna looked at the cheap cuts of steak on the cutting board and felt a momentary wistfulness. The last beef. He was right, of course. No more access to cows.

  Will I ever eat a hamburger again? she wondered.

  A surprisingly sad thought, but she drove it out of her mind as she moved toward the cutlery drawer. She slid it open, grabbing one of the larger knives out of its bin. It was a nice blade, some fancy thing her father had picked up somewhere along the way and then rarely used. Lightweight and shiny, the world GLOBAL was printed across the side of the blade. She grabbed a second one just like it and set it on the counter in front of Malin.

  “Just in case we need to protect ourselves,” Elna said.

  “Well, this’ll work,” he said, grabbing the slip-resistant steel handle and giving the blade a small practice swing.

  “It’s sharp,” Elna said. “Don’t cut yourself.” She tucked the blade under her belt, but she angled the point of the blade backward so she wouldn’t accidentally stab her own thigh.

  He nodded then followed her example and tucked his knife under his belt.

  “Can’t make the pump work?” Elna’s father called out as they started back across the kitchen.

  She shook her head. “The motor is burned out. Need a different plan.”

  Malin must’ve seen the look on her face, as he gave her a thumbs-up and said, “You’ve got this, Elna. We’ll pump the whole damn ocean up here into the guesthouse, if we want.”

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “Not the whole ocean, please,” her father called, as they left the kitchen.

  When they passed through the lobby, they saw that Garret had given up working on the desalination project. He was currently sleeping on the couch, the pot and jar on the floor nearby. He’d made a mess of the tape over the top of the jar.

  Elna sighed and kept moving. Another thing to fix later.

  “So where are we headed?” Malin asked, pulling the door shut behind them.

  “All over,” she said. “Here’s the thing, Malin. I’m not exactly sure what we’re looking for. I just need to grab anything that might be useful. I have a vague idea of what I want to do, but I’ll need a little inspiration. Let’s start with the big shed down the hill.” She gestured in the direction of the parking lot. “It’s a bit of a walk. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “I’ve got nothing better to do,” he said, with a shrug.

  They headed around the building and past the veranda, where the cars sat like the dead relics of a dead world that they were. Many of the vehicles were speckled with bits of leaves and twigs that had been blown against them in the storm then dried in place. As they headed down the hill, Elna was lost in thought, putting together mechanical pumps in her mind and trying to see all of the pieces. After a while, she realized that Malin had gotten quiet as well, which was unusual. She glanced over at him and realized he was gazing off into the distance, past the shoreline to the misty waters of the bay. The mainland wasn’t quite visible, lost in a haze, but he seemed to be scanning the horizon.

  At first, she didn’t think much of it. She turned away and kept following the winding road down the hill. But then she glanced at him again and noticed his expression, the way his lips were sort of working together, as if he were trying to smile but failing. His eyes were scrunched up. Was he on the verge of tears?

  Of course, she reminded herself. He misses Claire. Don’t forget that. His mind and heart are elsewhere.

  “Right, right.”

  She didn’t realize she’d said it out loud until he looked at her.

  “Tools,” she said, trying to redirect the conversation. “Shovels, especially. That’s what I’m thinking. Also, pallets and scrap wood, maybe some PVC pipe. I think we have that. We’re going to construct a water transportation system.”

  He almost smiled then, nodding at her. “Were you an engineer in another life?”

  “Maybe,” she said. “Actually, I wanted to be an inventor when I was a kid, but…you know, I couldn’t leave Pop here to tend this place all by himself after Mom died. In the beginning, I assumed it would be temporary, but the family business has become my career. Not that I regret it. I love working here.”

  “Well, you’ve got a mind for inventing, that’s for sure,” he replied. “Personally, I’ve got a head for business. I couldn’t design a water transportation system if my life depended on it.”

  “Well, it does,” she said. “Your life does depend on it.”

  He laughed. “Then it’s a damn good thing you’re here, Elna.”

  11

  Elna finally had to sit down. They’d gone down the slope and back up to the guesthouse five times, lugging any little thing that seemed half-useful. Now, out of breath, her legs aching, she needed a break. Malin was currently chugging a cup of water drawn straight out of the storage tank. She hoped it was safe to drink, and she made a mental note to come up with some way to filter it. As she rested now, leaning against a low fence post on the far side of the vineyard, she surveyed their acquisitions.

  A big plastic barrel with a hole in the side, a large hose that was only about ten feet long, some mechanical bits and pieces scavenged from dead machinery, scraps of wood, a couple of old pallets, some tools. They’d even g
one down the back of the island to search the old military shed on the dirt road. They had a rusty shovel and some scrap lumber to show for it.

  “It’s not enough,” she said. “I’ve got a design for a mechanical pump in my head, not fully fleshed out, but I don’t think I can construct it with the stuff we’ve got.”

  “I’ll bet there used to be some amazing stuff on this island when the military was here,” Malin said. “All kinds of machinery and equipment.”

  “I’m sure they took most of it when they left,” Elna said, dabbing the sweat off her brow with the hem of her shirt. “Treasure hunters on the island probably made off with the rest. We were lucky to find those binoculars the other day.”

  “So what else do you need to construct your water pump?”

  Elna thought about it for a moment. “To get water from the shore up to the guesthouse or to pump it up from the well—whichever proves easier—I’ll need to create a vacuum chamber that can be mechanically operated. This barrel could possibly work as the chamber, but I need more mechanical parts to create the other components.”

  “Well, we haven’t looked everywhere on the island,” Malin noted, pointing down the hill toward the southwest corner. The very top of the dingy off-white lighthouse was just visible over the treetops. “That place beyond the old fence might be a goldmine.”

  Elna thought of all the old military buildings beyond the fence and felt the resurgence of intense curiosity. She’d failed to get over the fence as a child, so that whole area was still waiting to be explored. There was no telling what had been left behind. Anything could be there. As she stared in that direction, imagining all sorts of aging treasures over there—maybe even a whole, intact hand pump—she saw some birds flitter through the trees down the hill. Little gray shrikes, they were ubiquitous on the island, and they had a distinctive call that sounded something like a squeaky hiccup.

  “We should’ve been more prepared for the end of civilization, I guess,” she said, thinking out loud. “So many places to store stuff on the island. We could have stocked up on gear, food, water, medicine. We’re such a small operation, and we only have seasonal help, so the day-to-day operations just consumed all of my thoughts. Still, the end of the world should have crossed my mind at some point, right? It should cross everyone’s mind. We make fun of people who stock food buckets and iodine tablets and such, but think about how much easier they’re dealing with this situation.”

  “Nobody could have anticipated what happened,” Malin said, sweeping his sweaty hair back from his face. “I mean, we’re still in the dark about this whole Korea business.”

  “We don’t have to anticipate specific calamities to be prepared for large-scale problems generally,” Elna said.

  “If I’d thought something like this was possible, I’d have driven to Reno and laid odds on it. Believe me.”

  Elna rose and brushed off the seat of her pants. “Okay, let’s head down to the forbidden zone and see what we can find.”

  “Forbidden zone,” Malin echoed, smiling. “I like that.”

  Elna pulled the barrel a little farther into the vineyard then started down the back side of the island, following the old, overgrown dirt road. She had avoided saying it, but she was starting to get truly concerned that they didn’t have enough equipment on the island to create a sustainable habitat. As she listened to the shrikes hiccupping in the trees, she envisioned a big old pot of them boiling over the fireplace.

  Not enough meat on one of those birds for a single bite, she thought.

  As they walked down the slope, kicking through underbrush, she heard other animals scampering out of their way. There were rabbits on the island. Far more edible than the little birds. The foxes should be edible as well, though she’d never actually heard of anyone eating fox meat. Either way, it didn’t solve the water problem.

  It’s ironic to be on a tiny island surrounded by water and be so worried about water, she thought. Desalination has to work. The water pump has to work.

  “You’d think the storm would’ve cooled things off for a while,” Malin noted, pulling his suit jacket open and flapping either side, as if to vent the heat. He’d rolled up the sleeves again, exposing the big bandage on his right arm. Elna winced.

  “Malin, how is your arm?” she asked. “We don’t want to reopen the wound.”

  “Oh, it’s fine,” he said. “I’m being pretty careful with it. Don’t worry.” He gave her a thumbs-up, as if to reassure her, then changed the subject. “You know, the last time I felt this much humidity was in Orlando in September. The air there was like a steam bath.”

  “Weather changes pretty quickly on the island,” Elna noted, feeling a drop of sweat trickling down the small of her back.

  During their many breaks at the top of the hill, they’d drunk water from the storage tank, but Elna was already feeling parched again.

  Should’ve brought a bottle of water, she thought. I was too busy trying to work out the details of a water pump to think of it.

  It took a grueling thirty minutes in the relentless heat to reach the old military fence, which stretched across a broad opening between two rocky shelves. The military buildings were clustered around the lighthouse beyond the fence, many of them visibly on the verge of collapse.

  “It doesn’t look safe over there,” she noted, grabbing two fence posts and gazing through the gap.

  “What was the military doing on the island?” Malin asked. “Was it a staging ground for something? Something to do with the Korean War?”

  “I really don’t know,” she said. “If Grandpa knew, he didn’t tell us. One thing’s for sure: they weren’t growing grapes and making wine.”

  A wave crashed against the rocks beyond the lighthouse and kicked up a large spray of mist, which settled over the old buildings. She thought about how the salty sea air had been eating away at these buildings for years. Still, there could be sealed containers or closets.

  “So what do we do?” Malin said, grabbing the heavy chain holding the fence gate shut. “Do we climb over? I can’t remember when I had my last tetanus shot.”

  Elna felt a flutter of unease as she gazed at the abandoned building.

  Just admit defeat, she told herself. You can find an alternative to the water pump.

  But the thought of slinking back to the guesthouse in defeat was too much. Her father would give her that gentle laugh of his, the kind that said, “You got in over your head, Principessa, didn’t you?” He never meant it to sound as condescending as it did.

  “We have to at least take a look,” she said, speaking to herself more than Malin. “You never know what we might find.”

  “Okay,” Malin replied, giving her a thumbs-up. “Let’s go. I’m in if you’re in.”

  He gave her a big, winning smile.

  He’s trying to encourage me, she realized. It was embarrassing, and she looked away in case he could tell. Embarrassing, yes, but also touching.

  “How are your climbing skills?” she asked.

  “Not too shabby,” he said. “Yours?”

  “I don’t know,” she replied. “Let’s find out.”

  She planted the sole of her shoe against the fence, tightened her grip on the posts, and started climbing.

  12

  He found the loose post by accident, and it almost ended their climb right away. When he put his weight against the fence post, it broke away from the crossbeam, the metal fatigued by years of rust and weather. Malin’s foot and leg slipped through the gap, pushing the broken fence post to the ground on the other side, leaving a jagged bit of metal hanging down from the crossbeam. His momentum carried him toward it. Suddenly, his little joke about tetanus shots seemed all too real. He turned his head, and his temple smacked the crossbeam instead. He wound up sitting on the rocks, one leg thrust through the gap, his bandaged arm throbbing but otherwise unscathed.

  “I think you just found an easier way in,” Elna said, coming toward him.

  She stooped
down, grabbed his hand, and helped him up. She was a wiry little thing, and he was surprised at how easily she hoisted him off the ground. Strong for her size, with a good grip. It was just another thing about her that he found interesting. He squeezed himself through the gap in the fence.

  “I meant to do it, of course,” he said. “Seemed safer than climbing the fence.”

  She gave him a weird little half-smile that suggested she wasn’t entirely sure he was joking. Malin re-rolled his sleeves, which had come loose in the fall, and turned to survey the buildings in front of them. Two long buildings on the left, built up against a shelf of rock, seemed to be old barracks. Nothing was quite square anymore. Every wall, window, and door was bent slightly out of shape. Across from the barracks was a larger, sturdier building made of brick and steel, but the front door had fallen onto the entry steps.

  Of course, the big stone lighthouse dominated the area. It looked like there might have been red or orange stripes running up the tower at one time, but they had mostly faded or flaked off, leaving only trace evidence. Now, the thing was a dirty, unnamable color, with a gallery at the top surrounded by a bent and rusted railing.

  “Which incredibly unsafe structure would you like to search first?” he asked, brushing the handle of the big kitchen knife under his belt—he just wanted to make sure it was within easy reach.

  “Not sure,” Elna replied. “Let’s walk past them all first and get sort of an overview of the place.”

  It looked like there might have been a broad driveway running down the middle of the place at one time, but all Malin could see now were gray patches where no weeds had grown. As they passed the first barracks building, with its rounded ceiling and rusting walls, Malin spotted something big around the corner. An old Army jeep. It seemed to be in decent shape, considering all the years and weather it had been exposed to. The wheels were long deflated, tall weeds had grown up around the rims, and rust was eating away at the body in places, but it was still recognizable.