Days of Chaos

by Hunt, Jack

  As her fist connected with his solar plexus, Sawyer gasped. Before he could take his next breath, she jammed her palm up under his nose bursting it, then grabbed his arm, four fingers in from the elbow, and dug her thumb into it while pulling him off. She followed through with a finger jab to the eye. Sawyer collapsed to one side but still wasn’t completely off her. He groaned in agony, reaching for his nose and eye. Maggie struggled to slip out and climb over his legs. She’d nearly done it when he clamped on to the back of her shirt and dragged her down, banging her head against the hard steel.

  “You fucking bitch!”

  He threw a punch and cracked her in the temple causing her to almost black out. When she regained her senses, he’d shifted position and had one knee up and the other on the floor. He was trying to control the bleeding from his nose while at the same time adjusting the belt around her neck. She knew she had minutes before he would kill her.

  In that instant, an explosion startled him. It was so loud he instinctively twisted in the direction it was coming from. That’s when she saw the blade again. In one smooth move she snapped the button on the side and yanked it out. Feeling her grasp it, he turned to react, but it was too late, she jammed that knife into the side of his neck screaming at the top of her lungs at the same time. “Die, you bastard!”

  Sawyer’s eyed widened; he clamped on to the knife and began gasping as he staggered back. She had to have pierced the jugular as blood was squirting out the side of his neck like a fountain.

  “Maggie!”

  She heard Jesse’s voice.

  Chapter 24

  “Come on! Come on!” Damon said as he worked his way around the side of the house waiting for Magnus to show. He raked the muzzle of his rifle back and forth. Nothing moved across his field of vision. Black and gray smoke billowed out of windows. They wouldn’t be able to stay in there long.

  Meanwhile, Amos was yelling in his ear about his car.

  “That car was priceless. Do you hear me?”

  Without even looking at him he replied, “Old man, you are really getting on my tits! Shut the hell up before I put you in the ground.”

  “I’d like to see that. This is going to cost you.”

  “Yeah, send the bill in the mail.”

  An individual burst out coughing and spluttering, his eyes wild and full of fear. He turned to run back but before he’d even made it a few feet, he took a round to the back and collapsed. Damon’s eyes darted to the tree line east of them and saw the muzzle of Clive’s gun sticking out. There was a fleeting moment of silence before the real gunfire started. Under the gray sky and low daylight conditions it was easy to see the muzzle flashes from two of the windows in the rear. Bullets tore up the dirt near Clive even as they returned fire. Magnus had sacrificed one of his own as a means to find out where his attackers were. On the south side where they were positioned, no one was firing at them, which meant he either had no clue they were there or he was waiting for them to emerge. Damon hurried over to Rayna who was taking cover behind a tree. She’d positioned herself at an angle and was waiting patiently for a target.

  Rounds speared into tree trunks sending bark spitting in every direction. Behind the safety of the trees he surveyed the property, considering every possible escape option. As the flames engulfed the front of the home, he knew it was only a matter of time before they were forced out. It was either that or they would die of smoke inhalation.

  Damon tapped Rayna on the shoulder. “I’m going around the north side, it’s the only area we don’t have covered. Stay here, okay? They stick their head out…”

  “Take them out. I know,” she replied, her face a picture of concentration.

  Damon turned to Amos. “Okay, old man, time to show us what you’re capable of — let’s go!”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  Rayna pressed her back to the tree. “Just back him up.”

  “He ruined my vehicle.”

  Amos looked like he’d spent too much time cooped up in his home. His problem wasn’t with Damon, it was with anyone telling him what to do.

  “He ruined my house, so I think that trumps your heap of shit. Now go before I put a bullet in your ass,” she replied. Either he liked her comeback, or he was genuinely afraid of her but he fell in step.

  Elliot punched the gas pedal and sped toward the intersection near Saranac Avenue and Mirror Lake. He was going on a gut feeling and there was a chance he was wrong on the location, but it was the only thing that made sense.

  Gary tossed his hands up. “Slow down, where are we heading?”

  “Do you remember two years ago, Foster lost a son in a collision?”

  “Vaguely.”

  “Vaguely?” Elliot repeated.

  “I don’t read a lot of news, Elliot.”

  “Geesh!” Elliot shook his head. “It was the talk of the town.”

  “Yeah, well I’ve never been one for gossip.”

  “Anyway, he blamed Wayland, and filed a civil lawsuit against him and the department due to the way things were handled. He wasn’t the only one raising accusations against him.”

  “That, I remember.”

  “Foster said that Wayland’s wife was to blame and that he’d been involved in covering it up.”

  “So you think Foster killed him?”

  “That’s my guess.”

  “And what about Bolton, and the fires?”

  “Nothing more than a distraction.”

  Elliot swerved onto Main Street and weaved his way around stalled vehicles. In the distance smoke rose above buildings, another reminder of society collapsing in on itself. As they got closer to the intersection he spotted Goodman, holding a handgun in one hand and dragging Hammond with the other. He slammed on the brakes, which let out a muffled screech as he took the Jeep up onto the curb so they could take cover behind a row of vehicles. Goodman looked in their direction and fired off two rounds, one shattered the windshield sending shards of glass inward.

  “Shit!” Elliot stabbed the brake again, killed the engine, then pushed out of the vehicle and dropped to the ground with his AR-15. Another flurry of rounds peppered the vehicles they were taking cover behind and punched through glass.

  “Goodman, you don’t want to do this!” Gary yelled.

  Elliot moved around a vehicle and crouched next to the back end of a 4 x 4 truck. Elliot risked a glance around the rear. Foster saw him and squeezed off three more rounds. The bullets took out a tire, and it let out a steady hiss.

  Pulling back, he and Gary stayed low inching their way up to the front end. Elliot darted to the next vehicle and peered through the window of a Ford. Mayor Hammond had a noose around his neck and the other end was strung over the top of one of the tall overarching lampposts. Even though Hammond was struggling to get loose, Foster would just strike him with the butt of his gun. His head was streaming with blood.

  “Keep him busy while I take the shot.”

  He expected Gary to tell him to hold off, but he didn’t this time. Elliot figured he knew the only way to handle this now was to kill him before Hammond was strung up. Elliot shuffled up to the front end of the Ford and swung his rifle over the top, resting it on the hood just as Goodman tried to get the mayor to stand on a small footstool. He had to have prepared it ahead of time as there was no way he could have set it up and controlled Hammond at the same time.

  Gary shouted, “Listen to me, Foster. It doesn’t need to end this way.”

  “Of course it does. He’s as much to blame as Wayland. They’re all to blame.”

  Gary looked over to Elliot who brought his eye up to the scope but had to pull back as Foster spotted him and opened fire. Bullets ricocheted off metal. Elliot ducked down. Foster turned his gun toward Hammond and instructed him to get up onto the stool.

  “Get up. Do it now!”

  A few more rounds in their direction and Elliot knew it was now or never. He swung the rifle over and Foster
locked eyes with him. Foster tried to fire off another round but was out. Hammond lunged forward into him, and Gary used the moment to dash forward. Elliot didn’t bother to wait, he wasn’t going to let him live. He brought his eye to the scope, even as Gary shouted for him to not take the shot.

  Too late.

  The gun let out a crack.

  The round struck Foster in the chest and spun him to the ground.

  Magnus had lost control of the situation. It happened so fast. One minute he was envisioning the future, the next coughing his lungs out from all the smoke. He’d instructed Tyron to push one of his group out in order to determine where they were. While he hadn’t seen them he assumed it was Elliot. How many were out there? One, two, maybe more? He’d had another one of his guys try to exit the south side but he had come under heavy fire. The only way out was the rear door or north side through a small bathroom window.

  “Tyron! Send them out,” Magnus yelled.

  “They won’t go.”

  Magnus was looking out the bathroom window when Tyron replied. Smoke was filling up the house, drifting through the rooms. He could feel the heat and hear the sound of wood crackling and items dropping to the ground. He coughed hard and lifted his top over his mouth as he emerged with a Glock raised. “Get out there now or I’ll kill you here.”

  “No.”

  He didn’t waste a second punching a bullet through the guy’s skull. They meant nothing to him. They were just a means to an end and under the circumstances the only thing that made sense was escaping. He shifted the Glock to the next guy, and Tyron did the same with the other. They brought up their hands, fear splashed across their faces as they darted toward the door and hurried out in a hail of gunfire.

  “Let’s go.” Magnus led the way into the bathroom and popped the window up and shimmied out, dropping to the ground. Tyron followed as Magnus hurried into the tree line.

  Damon spotted Magnus as he rushed out into the driveway that hugged the north side of the house. He raised his weapon but didn’t get the shot off in time. He disappeared into the coverage of the forest. Tyron wasn’t as lucky.

  Pop!

  He dropped him with a shot to the side of his chest. Damon took off in pursuit while shouting at Amos to finish Tyron off. He ducked into the dense cluster of pines and oaks in time to see Magnus darting in and out. Damon pointed his AR-15 and got off three shots sending Magnus diving for cover behind a tree.

  Magnus reached down and gripped the side of his stomach, then brought up a hand gloved in blood. He took a peek around the corner of the tree and could see Damon making his way over. He squeezed off a few shots to hold him off. His breathing became heavy. “You sonofabitch!”

  “You didn’t have to kill her, Magnus.”

  He let out a chuckle. “You’re still thinking about her? Shit man, whatever happened to bros before hoes?”

  Damon didn’t reply. Magnus could hear him getting close. He knew he wasn’t going to make it out of that forest. He was bleeding out badly. Fear gripped him. He didn’t want to die. This wasn’t how it was meant to end.

  He brought the Glock around and fired off three more rounds, each one speared into the tree Damon was behind. He struggled to get up and jog to the next tree. At least if he had to die, he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of taking his life without a fight. He released his magazine and palmed another one into place before bringing a round into the chamber.

  “You know what, Damon. It’s been one hell of a ride, hasn’t it?”

  He turned and looked back but couldn’t see him. His eyes frantically scanned his field of vision. His mouth was dry, and his hands shook. He was starting to feel cold from blood loss. He tilted his head trying hard to listen for his movements but there was nothing. Then a twig snapped, and another at the sound of boots rushing forward. He twisted around the other side of the tree directly into the bullet.

  Epilogue

  A bright morning sun bathed the snow-brushed mountains over Lake Placid as Elliot and Rayna picked through what remained of their home. A chilly breeze swept ash across the yard. Although the bunker was still intact, it seemed that almost all their photos, memories and belongings had gone up in smoke. He kicked at the charred wood and searched for anything of sentimental value. Beneath the blanket of destroyed belongings, he spotted a family photo that had made it. Though the glass frame was partially melted and soot hid the image, it was still intact for the most part. He wiped away the grime with his sleeve and then shattered the glass so he could retrieve the snapshot.

  It was just a memory but now that was all they had, and it meant a lot.

  “You never hit him?” Rayna asked.

  “I wanted to.”

  “What stopped you?”

  He sighed. “I’m not sure, to be honest.”

  “Have you seen him?”

  “Nope. He said he needed to talk to her.”

  Rayna nodded. “Yeah, I tried but she wouldn’t listen.”

  “Do you blame her?”

  She breathed in deeply.

  “No. I just miss my old friend.”

  There was a moment of silence.

  “Me too.”

  Rayna eyed him as they continued searching.

  “Tell me something. Why did you believe me?” she asked.

  He paused and tossed a charred piece of wood and contemplated the question. “I’d like to say it’s because you’re my wife and I know you better than anyone else, and while that’s true… the way I see it — under the circumstances, you had no reason to lie. If ever there was a justified reason to cut ties, it would have been then when I had nothing to give you except my problems.”

  Rayna nodded slowly before reaching for his hand.

  A couple of days after rescuing Maggie, the group buried Mr. Thompson in a marked grave at the back of his home. His elderly wife, Gail, was so devastated that Gary brought her together with other victims of society’s collapse in the hope she’d draw comfort and strength from those in the same pain. As hard as it was to see the suffering, it was a sign of the times. All of them bore scars in different ways, some physical, most emotional.

  After spending some time with Damon, Buddy and Amos headed back to Keene, believing they could scrape together enough to ride out the unknown. For a day or so, Damon had considered going with them but at the last moment chose to stay. While Maggie was being treated for an infection at the local medical center, Jesse remained at her side having become close through the harrowing ordeal.

  So much had changed since New York, not just in them but in the community at large.

  The future was uncertain. Tomorrow was a gamble.

  But family remained the same, and that was worth fighting for.

  Over two weeks in an EMP had taught them many lessons, most of which had cost them dearly. But through the confusion, violence and desperation of a country without power, two things had become very clear — no one was an island, and a community was only as strong as those willing to sacrifice.

  THANK YOU FOR READING

  Days of Chaos: (Book 2)

  Days of Danger will be out soon

  Please take a second to leave a review, it’s really appreciated. Thanks kindly, Jack.

  A Plea

  Thank you for reading Days of Chaos: EMP Survival Series Book 2. If you enjoyed the book, I would really appreciate it if you would consider leaving a review. Without reviews, an author’s books are virtually invisible on the retail sites. It also lets me know what you liked. It also motivates me to write more books. You can leave a review by visiting the book’s page. I would greatly appreciate it. It only takes a couple of seconds.

  Thank you — Jack Hunt

  Reading Team

  Thank you for buying Days of Chaos, published by Direct Response Publishing.

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  About the Author

  Jack Hunt is the bes
t-selling author of horror, sci-fi and post-apocalyptic novels. He currently has three books out in the War Buds series, two books out in the Wild Ones series, three books in the Camp Zero series, three books out in the Agora Virus series, five books out in the Renegades series, one book out in the The Armada series, a time travel book called Killing Time, a science fiction book called Blackout, another called Darkest Hour, another called Final Impact and another called Mavericks: Hunters Moon. Jack lives on the East coast of North America.

  jackhuntauthor

  www.jackhuntbooks.com

  jhuntauthor@gmail.com