Island Refuge EMP Box Set | Books 1-3

by Hamilton, Grace

Mark regarded her for a second, then held up both hands and sat down. “It’s your call.”

  Malin looked from Mark to Elna. He didn’t particularly care for either suggestion. The tweaker hadn’t done anything violent. He hadn’t shown even a glimmer of threat. Mostly, he was just a pest. No, they couldn’t harm the poor guy.

  “Okay, fine, I’ll give him some food and send him away,” he said.

  Tomek was leaning on the hood of the van, his cheek pressed to the dusty metal, his hands covering his ears. Malin had to call his name a few times before the guy finally twitched, lowered his hands, and stood up.

  “Alright, buddy, it’s your lucky day,” Malin said, waving him over. “Come on. We’ll give you a little food.”

  As he dug the pouch of vegetables from his pocket, Tomek dashed over to him, swinging his arms broadly as he came. The stranger could scarcely contain himself. The pouch had maybe three more mouthfuls of freeze-dried vegetables left. Malin sealed the pouch, held it up, and shook it.

  “The rest of this is yours,” he said. “It tastes a bit like licking the dried residue off the inside of an empty soup can, but you wanted a full belly. This will fill it.”

  Before taking it from him, Tomek bowed again. His shoulders started shaking, and Malin thought the man was crying. However, when he stood up, Malin realized he was laughing, wide-eyed with excitement. He had bloodshot eyes, and Mark was right—Tomek’s teeth were speckled with rot, and he’d lost a canine and an incisor.

  “Oh my gosh, dude,” Tomek said, delicately pulling the pouch of out Malin’s grasp. “You have no idea how grateful I am. I ate stale bread out of a dumpster yesterday. This is going to be like eating caviar.” He pulled open the pouch, held it close to his nose, and took a long whiff. Then he sighed, as if it were the best smell in the world.

  “What’s your story?” Elna asked. “Where are you headed?”

  Tomek poured a bunch of freeze-dried vegetables into his mouth, and proceeded to chew them violently. It was so disgusting that Malin looked away.

  “Just making my way from place to place,” Tomek said, through a mouthful of half-chewed food. “I’m not headed anywhere. There’s really nowhere to go.”

  “Did you have a job…before?” Elna asked.

  Tomek chewed for a few seconds without answering, but his body posture changed. His shoulders slumped, and his head hung down. “Used to do consulting work for a private security firm a long time ago. A long time ago. Not just before the EMP, but…before before. I barely remember it, to be honest. So much has happened.”

  He promptly dumped the rest of the pouch in his mouth, but it was so much this time that he had to cover his mouth with his hands to prevent it from gushing out when he chewed.

  “Okay, listen up,” Malin said. He tried to sound stern, even threatening, but he mostly felt sorry for this poor loser. “We gave you some food, and that’s it. I don’t want you following us anymore, got it? We’ve got just enough food and water to get where we’re going. This isn’t a food bank. Now, you head back the way you came and find someone else to pester. I don’t want to see or hear you lurking behind us anymore. Go back and find the red sweatshirt you dumped back there somewhere and find another place to creep about.”

  At this, Tomek shrugged and sneered, inadvertently drooling as soon as his lips parted. He wiped the drool off and shoved it back into his mouth with his thumb. “You won’t see me again, I promise. I swear. I’ll head to the last town and find a nice place to stay a while.”

  “Tomek, I’m not playing around,” Malin said, patting the side of the bow. “Don’t let me see you again. We won’t be so nice next time. Got it?”

  Tomek bowed again, rolling his hand in that absurd way. Then he thrust the empty food pouch at Malin. “I’ll just be leaving. Good luck on your journey. Farewell.”

  And with a final bow, he backed away, then turned, and set off at a jog. Malin watched as he headed north, soon disappearing around a bend in the road.

  “So, the next time you hear him creeping along behind us—and he will—don’t flake out,” Mark said. “Keep your word. Otherwise, you’ll never be rid of him.”

  It was almost full dark, and they hadn’t heard a peep from Tomek. Malin was sprawled on his sleeping bag. He’d offered the sleeping bag to Mark, but the man had refused. He seemed content to lie on the hard dirt. Elna was curled on her side in her own sleeping bag, her black hair sticking out of the top. Raymond was snoring in his own awful way.

  “We have to do a better job of not being noticed,” Elna said.

  “We’re avoiding the highway most of the time,” Mark said. “Not much more we can do. We can’t go traipsing off into the wilderness. That’ll really slow us down.”

  “I know.” Elna crawled partway out of her sleeping bag and grabbed a bottle of water that she’d set nearby. She took a sip, crinkled the plastic bottle, as if in frustration, and handed it to Malin. “We just need to be more discreet. We should keep watch tonight.”

  “I’ll go first,” Malin said. He didn’t much feel like sleeping anyway. Even if their friendly neighborhood tweaker had kept his word and headed back to town, there was always the possibility of some other weirdo lurking in the dark, waiting to raid the camp.

  “I sleep lightly,” Mark said. “If I hear any trouble, I’ll be awake and at your side in a second.”

  “Good.”

  Malin looked at the vast shape of the good doctor in the deepening gloom.

  He’s a bruiser, Malin thought. I’m glad this guy is with us.

  Malin stepped past the flatbed cart and took a position beside a large sycamore tree in sight of the road. He was still wearing the rain gear from the boat—it helped with the cold—but he took it off now and flipped it inside out. The outside was just a little too light, easier to see in the dark, while the lining was a dark gray. He pulled it back on, grabbed the bow, and settled in for the first watch.

  Malin fully intended to stay there most of the night. Elna needed sleep. She’d worried too much lately. Her mind never settled. If Mark was truly a light sleeper, then it was enough. Soon, the night was full on, and the gap between the trees was impenetrable. Malin saw a few stars overhead, but spotty clouds covered most of the sky.

  Since he couldn’t see anyone approaching, he strained to listen. He missed the island more than ever. In fact, the magnitude of his homesickness surprised him. The sense of his island home kept coming to him: the distinct fireplace smell of the lobby, the earthy smell of the garden and vineyard, the familiar voices of Norman, Selene, and George constantly chattering away in the background, The Dulleses holding hands or shuffling about the kitchen.

  It seems so far away, he thought.

  He tried to stop thinking about it, but standing in this tangible darkness, hearing the bitter night wind in the branches, caused a gloomy feeling to settle over him. For some reason, he couldn’t shake it, no matter how hard to tried to think about nothing at all.

  Strange sounds roused him sometime later. Though he was still wide awake, he’d lost track of time in his own mind, so he had no idea how many hours had passed. The sounds came faintly, echoes that seemed indistinct at first. He strained to make sense of them. Raised voices. People shouting at each other. Cursing. Possibly the sounds of a fistfight. They seemed quite far away, but he couldn’t be sure of that either.

  The sounds faded for a minute, then returned with more intensity. Now, Malin was sure he was hearing a fight. Multiple people, maybe a dozen or more. Could it be some kind of gang attack? He would have heard it a bit more clearly if not for Raymond’s tooth-rattling snores.

  Is it coming this way? he wondered.

  It faded again, returned, faded again.

  What in the world—?

  He heard a sharp crack. It came from somewhere to his right, very far away, and echoed in the distance on his left. It was followed by another, and another. Like firecrackers. Like someone driving a hammer against sheet metal, but he knew it was neither of
those things.

  Gunshots.

  The third shot was followed by a high, howling voice—a cry of either horrible pain or grief. It rose up and up, broke, then faded into the night. Even though the sound was far away, Malin raised the bow again and aimed into the darkness.

  It’s going to be a long night, he thought.

  When Mark shook him awake in the early morning light, the first thing he felt was his stomach rumbling. Malin fumbled around on the ground and found the bow sitting in the dirt nearby. He picked it up and struggled to put the loose arrow back in the quiver. When he finally got it there, he rubbed his eyes and looked up at the towering shape over him.

  “What time is it?” he asked, his voice creaking.

  “I don’t know,” Mark replied, in a voice that was like the lowest notes on a contrabassoon. “Just past sunrise, by the look of it.”

  Malin had fallen asleep at some point with his back against the large sycamore tree. When he stood us, his stiff back cried out in protest. He looked at their camp. The others were still sleeping, lumps nestled inside their sleeping bags. Malin’s mouth was dry and gritty, so he crawled over to their stacks of supplies and grabbed one of the water bottles.

  “Well, we didn’t get robbed last night, at least,” he said, twisting off the cap.

  “No, all the violence seemed to be happening in the last town we passed through,” Mark said. He tipped over the flatbed cart and began loading up their supplies, carefully stacking everything, as if to distribute the weight in a specific way.

  “You heard that?” Malin said. “I swear I heard some woman screaming bloody murder. I thought I was the only one awake to hear it.”

  “It didn’t happen one time,” Mark said. “The violence recurred throughout the night. I don’t know what was happening back there. Some kind of battle in the town, perhaps. Maybe Tomek was involved.”

  “Good thing we sent him on his way then.”

  “Just hope the fighting doesn’t come this way,” Mark said. “Some of the gangs roaming the highways have grown bold, and if townsfolk don’t accede to their demands, they’re quick to resort to bloodshed. We’ll have to be extra careful out in the open like we are.”

  Malin’s stomach rumbled again. They had more freeze-dried food, dried meat and berries, and a lot of things that didn’t seem all that delicious at the moment. Raymond’s comments about eating a big, juicy steak rang in his head, and Malin glanced at the compound bow, which was leaned against a box. He grabbed it, blowing some dirt off the side.

  “Whatever happens today, I’m getting us some fresh meat,” he said. “I’d prefer a deer, but I’ll take a rabbit, quail, wild turkey—just about anything.”

  “Might as well try it now,” Mark said. “Let the others sleep another hour or two, so they don’t wear out on the road. I intend to set a faster pace.”

  Malin raised the bow, testing the weight of it and gazing down the site. “Okay, let’s see what we can find.”

  14

  They’d stopped to rest in a dusty clearing sometime that afternoon, with a bright, heatless sun overhead. Raymond came stumbling up last, dragging the walking stick. Elna was impressed. He’d lasted a few good hours, though they’d had to pause and let him catch up a few times. As he eased himself onto the ground, Elna gave him an encouraging smile. In his dusty rain gear, the broad-brimmed hat pulled low, and his arm in a sling, he looked like a defeated sea captain stranded on shore. He rarely complained, though Elna could tell he was still in significant pain.

  “I walk a lot better with a full belly,” Raymond said, laying the walking stick on the ground beside him. “I never ate rabbit before. It wasn’t a bad breakfast. Do you think Malin will catch anything for lunch?”

  “I don’t know,” Elna replied, “but if he can hit a rabbit, he’s a better shot with that bow than I thought.”

  She heard him moving through the trees, the crunch of distant footfalls. Malin’s successful hunt that morning had energized him. Just before setting off for a lunchtime hunt, he’d made a comment about bagging an elk. She’d laughed it off as a humorous boast, but she was pretty sure he was dragging a large something through the woods.

  “Sounds like we might have a nice dinner tonight,” she said, standing up.

  Their campsite was mostly out of sight of the road. Even now, Mark was moving some rather large rocks into a gap between the trees to further block them from view.

  “We made better time,” Mark said. “That’s the good news. As long as Raymond keeps walking, we’ll do okay.”

  “I can handle it,” Raymond replied, in a breathless voice that suggested otherwise. “Don’t worry about me.”

  Elna moved toward the sound of Malin just as he appeared. He was moving backward, dragging the carcass of a small deer while attempting, awkwardly, to also hold on to the compound bow. Elna rushed to help him, but when she started to speak, he made a sharp shushing sound.

  “What?” she replied. “You did it, Malin. It’s not an elk, but it’s the next best thing.”

  As he handed her the bow, he put a finger to his lips and gestured with his head back toward camp. The deer still had an arrow sticking out of the side of its head. A clean shot, but deep, the arrowhead buried in the skull just behind the left eye.

  She carried the bow back to camp. When Malin appeared with the deer, Raymond gave a little whoop of excitement, and Malin shushed him as well.

  “Guys, we have to keep it down,” he said, sliding the deer carcass into an open ditch just beyond the camp. “I climbed a ledge about a mile to the north and spotted a group of people on the road.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

  Elna felt a squirming unease. They’d been far too lucky thus far, as they hadn’t encountered many travelers along the road. “Did you recognize them? Was Tomek there?”

  “Too far away to tell,” he said. “They were in the middle of the road. Looked like they might have been looting vehicles, but I’m not sure.”

  “Do we break camp and keep moving?” she asked. “Maybe we can leave the road entirely for a little bit, at least until we lose them.”

  Elna traded a look with Mark. “We’re armed, you know,” he said. “Malin, did they seem to have any weapons?”

  “I don’t know,” he replied, rooting through their supplies. He retrieved a small knife from among their tools. “Looked like a pretty ragtag group, to be honest.”

  “Don’t they all?” Elna said.

  Malin had the knife poised over the deer’s white belly. “We’re going to eat well tonight. I don’t want these weirdos to keep us from starting a small fire, not when I’ve got so much fresh meat to cook. And, look, it’s not just the deer.”

  He reached into his rain coat, pulled something out of his shirt pocket, and held it up. A few small carrots and a couple of potatoes. “Passed through the yard of a secluded house. They had a small garden in back. It was neglected and overgrown with weeds, but I found these. Can you imagine the stew all of this will make? Mark is right. We’re armed. And you’re right, too, Elna. We can move farther from the road, but we’re going to eat a nice cooked meal, damn it.”

  Raymond held up his good arm, shaking a triumphant fist over his head. “Yes, my friend. Yes!”

  They relocated another fifty yards down a slope into a weedy field that was farther from the road. As Mark trampled down a patch of grass to make room for them, Malin went to work butchering the deer. The strong smell of blood and meat filled the air. Raymond used his walking stick to dig a pit for a campfire then unrolled their sleeping bags nearby.

  Elna gathered up sticks and kindling and used a couple of emergency matches to get a fire going. With the cold wind blowing, it took a while, but eventually, she had a nice little blaze going. Once their campsite was arranged and the fire burning well, Mark helped Malin finish skinning and butchering the deer.

  Elna retrieved a small camping pot they’d taken from the boat and built a makeshift framework, using the crowbar, a hammer,
and a couple of sturdy sticks to hold it over the fire.

  “If we’re being followed, they’ll smell the food cooking,” Mark said, walking back to the camp with big slabs of meat draped over his arm. “Hungry people will be more attuned to the scent, so let’s hope they’re unwilling to walk so far from the road to find the source.”

  It turned out, Mark was pretty handy with a knife. He’d made fast work of the deer, cutting away an impressive amount of meat.

  In the end, Malin made a crude stew using generous cuts of meat, the carrots and potatoes, a pouch of freeze-dried vegetables, and water. As it bubbled over the fire, he also strung up large slabs of meat to let them cook.

  “We’ll cook as much of the meat as we can,” he said. “Thanks to the cold, the cooked meat should last a couple of days, at least. I’ll use one of our containers to store it.”

  “That smells like heaven on earth, my friend,” Raymond said. He sat cross-legged before the fire, and Elna was pretty sure he was on the verge of swooning.

  Once the stew was ready, they had to eat it communally from the pot, using tools and crude utensils. Elna used her pocket knife. Malin used the same knife he’d carved up the deer with. Mark used a smooth stick. Raymond picked out pieces of meat and vegetables from the edge of the pot with his fingers—after he’d washed them, of course.

  “That caveman life,” Malin said. “This is how it must’ve felt to eat fresh mastodon at the end of the ice age.”

  “And we have our own personal Neanderthal right here,” Raymond said, gesturing at Mark.

  The man seemed to take the joke in stride, giving Raymond a brief smile.

  Once the stew was gone, they helped themselves to some of the big slabs of cooked meat. Elna was shocked to discover just how hungry she was. Maybe her body had been doing her the favor of hiding the true magnitude of it, but now she felt like she could consume every bite of the deer. Her appetite was ravenous, and even when the grease dribbled down her chin, she preferred to lick it off rather than wipe it away.