Judy didn’t know what to think of Tim’s claim that he’d seen her daughter getting arrested.
But she didn’t have much time to think, because something was happening in the street.
There was a station wagon that had just appeared. The driver was honking the horn.
Someone was standing in the station wagon’s path, waving at it.
Suddenly, Judy made sense of the situation.
It was Jim, Aly’s husband. Yes, that was definitely his car.
Whoever was standing in Jim’s path was shouting at him.
The door to the station wagon opened, and Jim stepped out, looking tall.
In his hand, there was a pistol.
And he pointed it right at the men in the path of his car.
Judy could barely believe her eyes.
She took a sharp intake of breath and her heart started to pound.
Towards the back of the house, Judy heard Tim’s steps on the creaky basement stairs. And she heard him knocking something against the walls.
6
Jim
It had been a difficult decision, but Jim had decided to go right to his wife, rather than stopping at the hospital first. He’d even pulled over to check on the woman in the back. Her condition hadn’t worsened.
The way over to Pittsford had been the same as driving down Park Avenue. Plenty of cars stopped on the road.
They’d only seen a couple other cars that still seemed to work. One was a Subaru, for sure, and one was some ancient car that Jim hadn’t recognized.
On the drive, Jim had tried to explain the situation to Rob as best he could. Rob trusted Jim implicitly. They’d been friends forever, and Rob had always looked up to Jim the way a younger brother might an older brother. In their adult lives, Jim had gotten him out of more jams than he could count.
But Rob still resisted the idea, even if he was slowly coming around to it. He offered up a dozen or so half thought out counterarguments, which Jim shot down one by one.
Jim could see the Aly’s mother’s house from where the Subaru was.
Someone was blocking his path. An overweight man in his forties. He was making strange motions with his arms that made no sense.
And no matter what, he wouldn’t get out of the way.
“Jim, we can just walk from here!” hissed Rob, from the passenger seat.
“Not if we’re going to have to load up the car,” said Jim.
“Load up the car? With what?”
“Supplies,” said Jim.
Jim was under no illusions that the his emergency bag would be enough to last them.
And he also didn’t know if they’d be able to make it back to his and Aly’s own apartment, which was about a thirty minute drive.
If not, they needed to take what they could from Aly’s mother’s house. And fast. He couldn’t waste time carting things out to the street. They were, after all, still a few houses away.
“And we can’t leave her in the car, either,” said Jim. “Everyone’s getting frantic. Who knows what they’ll do. How they’ll react.”
Suddenly, the man in front of the Subaru started slamming his fists onto the hood of the car.
“What the hell is he doing?” said Rob.
“Whatever it is, he’s not going to be doing it for long,” said Jim.
Jim threw the door open, drew his revolver, and stepped outside.
He was taller than the man by at least a head.
“I’m not messing around,” he said, pointing the revolver. “Step out of the way and leave us alone.”
Jim carried the revolver for emergencies only. He would have never thought to use it in all but the most extreme situations.
As far as he was concerned, this was an extreme situation.
As extreme as they got.
People were already panicking. They’d seen it on Park Ave, and they were seeing it now here.
Panicking would lead to chaos.
Once the lack of water and food set in, the chaos would erupt. Like pouring gas on the fire.
And it would only get worse.
The overweight man froze in place. Nothing moved except his face. His eyebrows rose and a look of intense surprise overtook his features.
“I don’t want any trouble,” he muttered, his voice soft and quiet.
“Good,” said Jim. “Now step aside. We need to get through.”
The man nodded meekly.
Jim didn’t put the revolver away until he was back in the wagon.
“I didn’t know you had a gun,” said Rob.
Jim just nodded.
It was a Ruger LCRx .38. Double action, but with an external hammer, unlike the regular LCR, so single action was an option. Double action meant that a trigger pull was all that was needed for the gun to fire. Single action meant that he could cock the hammer if he wanted to, making the trigger pull easier.
If Jim was being honest with himself, he liked the idea of cocking the hammer mostly because that was what often happened in movies. Sure, there were some practical applications, too.
But he rationalized it to himself with the idea that cocking the trigger would serve as an additional warning to whoever he was pointing the gun at.
It was a compact gun. But it had a three inch barrel and a proper handle that allowed for a good grip.
It was light, made of aluminum.
In short, it was small and light, but packed enough of a punch to be a serious weapon.
The big man backed off, and Jim drove the short distance to his mother in law’s house, parking way up the driveway, only a short walk to the front door.
“Stay in the car, Rob,” said Jim. “And make sure no one comes for it. Pretty soon, a working car is going to be a target itself.”
Jim’s mind was racing. He was trying to figure out what they’d need to take.
He felt a little better being here. Soon, Aly would be at his side again.
But where would they head?
And what about Aly’s mother? She could be stubborn, and she wasn’t the sort of person who’d want to leave her home.
Instinctively, Jim rang the doorbell before realizing his error.
He rose his hand to knock, but before his knuckles even touched the door, it opened swiftly.
But it was only open a crack. Just enough space for a face.
Aly’s mother’s face appeared.
She was in her late sixties. She’d had Aly a little later in life than normal.
She peered at him suspiciously, and didn’t open the door any further.
“Is Aly with you?” she said. “What were you doing with that gun? And that poor man in the street?”
“Aly?” said Jim, momentarily confused. “I thought she was with you.”
“She didn’t come home last night.”
Jim’s mind went racing. But he needed to keep it together. There was no point in panicking.
The only thing to do was to find the most practical, logical thing to do. And then do it.
Not much point in worrying.
“What do you mean she didn’t come home?” he said, realizing it was a stupid question the moment after he asked it.
Judy just stared at him suspiciously. She’d never liked him much.
“I need to come in,” said Jim.
“Not with that gun of yours. I don’t know what you’re up to. I have half a mind to call the police.”
“Good luck with the phones,” said Jim. “Come on. Let me in, Judy.”
She made a face and finally opened the door all the way. “Hurry up now. I don’t like having all those people in the road. They make me nervous.”
She opened the door and Jim slipped past her into the darkened house.
The fact that the people in road made her nervous normally wouldn’t have meant anything. Her street in Pittsford was normally calm and tranquil. It was an affluent area, where nothing much really happened, good, bad, or otherwise. Nevertheless, Judy would get nervous if someone was mowin
g their lawn too late at night.
But, today, Jim was nervous about the people in the road too.
Judy shut the door, leaving the room even darker than before.
“So where’s Aly?” said Jim.
“She’s not here. I thought she’d spent the night with you.”
“Is this some stunt?” said Jim. “I get it if she doesn’t want to see me and she told you to tell me that, but this is really serious. I need to see her.”
“It’s the truth,” said Judy. “Do you know what’s going on, Jim? The power’s been out for hours now, and…”
Jim ignored the question. There wasn’t time to explain everything to her. And she wouldn’t have believed it if he had.
Jim glanced down at his watch. It was the first time he’d looked at it since the EMP, and he was pleased to see that the second hand was still ticking along.
It was a Seiko diver with an automatic movement. Jim had had it for years, never gotten it serviced, and it still worked fine. He liked automatics because they never needed batteries. They were the complete opposite of the computers and phones he worked with all day. They were actual little machines, made of little gears, and, if necessary, they could be repaired.
The timekeeping wasn’t as precise as a more expensive automatic, but the way Jim figured it, he was his own boss, anyway. He didn’t need to be anywhere precisely on time.
He just reset it once a week, and he was never more than a minute or two off by next Sunday.
Jim knew that any watch with a quartz movement would have been rendered useless by the EMP. Quartz movements usually needed battery or capacitor to power the vibrating quartz crystal. There was some variations without batteries, but they were typically expensive, and who knew how they’d react to an EMP.
It was a little past 11:00 am.
It’d only been one hour since the EMP.
There was a sound in the kitchen. Something dropping.
Jim’s hand automatically went to his holster, but he didn’t draw his revolver.
“Oh that’s just Tim,” said Judy. “He needed to borrow some more tools for some project he’s working on… whatever it is that he does over there at his aunt’s house.”
Jim had met Tim before, and he was pretty sure that he was operating a small pot growing operation out of his clueless aunt’s basement.
Jim nodded at Tim as he came into the room. He was walking slowly, weighed down with a bundle of things he was carrying in his arms.
Jim did a double take when he saw some of what Tim was carrying. He and Aly already knew that Tim would come over from time to time to “borrow” various things. They’d talked with Judy countless times about it, but she’d just insisted he was an innocent boy, even though as far as Jim could see, he was a full grown man who was stealing from her.
Aly was first and foremost on his mind. But he still half-believed she was upstairs in one of the rooms and just didn’t want to see him.
“What you got there, Tim?” said Jim.
“Oh, it’s just some tools,” said Judy. “Don’t bother him, Jim.”
“Just some tools,” muttered Tim, vaguely. But he stopped in his tracks. He glanced back towards the kitchen, as if he was considering going out the back door to avoid Jim.
“Stay right there,” said Jim, stepping forward.
Tim had gathered up all sorts of things that one would expect to be useful in a disaster situation. In one hand, he held an ancient duffel bag that was unzipped. It was stuffed with what looked like cans of food, and bottles of water.
Jim grabbed one of the cans out of the duffle bag.
Tim stood there frozen, looking nervous. His eyes darted back and forth.
“So these are the so-called tools you needed?” said Jim.
“He’s a good kid,” said Judy. “He just gets overly enthusiastic sometimes.”
“You need to stop making excuses for him,” said Jim. “Don’t you realize that he’s stealing from you?”
“I’m not stealing anything,” said Tim.
“Like hell you aren’t,” said Jim.
Suddenly, Tim made a move. His eyes suddenly remained in one place, focused right on Jim.
Tim’s body weight shifted and he rammed Jim with his right shoulder.
Jim tried to step to the side, but it was too late. The blow hit him on his chest, and knocked the wind out of him.
Tim had brought the duffle bag back with one hand, and he was swinging it now, right towards Jim.
Jim stepped to the side, and the duffle bag collided with the wall. It created a hole in the drywall, and the duffle bag fell to the floor. Some cans fell out and clattered to the floor.
“You boys need to settle down!” said Judy.
Tim dropped everything he had.
He was staring at Jim with intensity and hatred in his eyes. His right hand moved to his jeans pocket. When he took it out, there was a knife clutched in his hand.
Tim flicked the knife open clumsily. It took him a moment.
But he got it open.
Now Jim was staring at a four inch steel blade and threatening eyes.
Jim reached for his revolver. His shirt was in the way. His hand fumbled for the holster.
Tim rushed him.
Judy screamed.
Jim’s hand was caught up in his shirt.
Tim was getting closer.
There was hardly any space between them.
Jim’s hand finally found the revolver handle. He drew it quickly.
His finger was on the trigger.
There wasn’t time to get Tim in his sights.
There wasn’t even time to get off a shot without getting stabbed first.
Jim did the only thing he could think of.
He fell backwards.
It was a sort of controlled tumble.
Or it was supposed to be. He fell hard on his back, his legs going up into the air.
The fall made it so that Tim had to adjust his attack. The swing of his arm would no longer drive the knife into Jim.
The fall bought Jim more time.
He felt the pain in his back. But it wasn’t anything compared to getting stabbed. He could live with some back pain.
Jim pulled the trigger as quickly as he could.
He kept the revolver steady as best he could, just as he’d been trained in his classes.
The knife was less than a foot from his torso when the bullet struck Tim.
Right in the chest.
Judy screamed.
7
Rob
Rob was partially in shock. He didn’t know what to think.
At first, he’d thought that Jim had just lost his mind.
But he looked up to Jim. And Jim knew that. Mostly, he’d gone along with Jim just out of respect.
But also to make sure Jim didn’t do anything stupid.
After all, even the sanest people could snap. They could just suddenly lose it.
And Jim’s been going through a lot. Aly was so important to him, and when she’d said that she’d wanted some space, it had hit Jim really hard.
He’d been in the worst shape that Rob had ever seen him in. In fact, Rob had made sure to come by the computer shop every day, just to check in on Jim. To give him someone to talk to.
And he’d stopped by sometimes in the evenings too, sometimes bringing some Chinese takeout, or a couple sandwiches. After all, Jim hadn’t been eating that well. As far as Rob could tell, he’d been living off of beef jerky from the gas station, gallons of whole milk, and whatever Rob brought him.
Rob sat in the passenger seat of the beat up old Subaru wagon. He glanced nervously into the rear window.
There were more people in the street than there had been. Fortunately, he hadn’t seen that man that Jim had threatened with his revolver.
But people, here and there, seemed to have come out of their houses. Now they were mingling with the drivers of the stopped cars.
At this point, Rob knew that Jim wasn’t
crazy.
Something was going on. Something strange. Something serious.
Rob tried remembering exactly what they’d said on the news. It was just a fuzzy memory, since so much had already happened between then and now.
Shouldn’t they have given the public more information?
Rob’s thoughts turned for a moment to his job interview. He supposed that it was all right he didn’t show up. Although showing up even in extreme circumstances could show initiative. And that was something that employers often looked for. Or so he was told.
As Jim would attest, Rob certainly wasn’t an expert at employment.
From inside the house came a muffled sound.
It sounded like a gunshot.
Rob’s heart started to accelerate.
Had Jim shot someone?
His eyes darted around. His body froze up. He didn’t know what to do.
Behind him, in the rearview mirror, he could see people in the street stopping, their heads turning towards the house.
Shit. That wasn’t good.
Before he knew it, there were people around the car, apparently trying to get a better look at the house.
“That’s where Judy lives.”
“Judy?”
“Yeah, and her daughter’s been staying with her. Some problems with the husband.”
“Was that him, the guy who pulled the gun out?”
“Might be.”
“So this is his car here?”
Something had to be done. At the very least, he was going inside, to see what had happened.
Rob opened the door.
“Don’t worry everyone,” he said, using the same voice he’d used as an employee at the movie theatre, when the movie had stopped all of a sudden. “There’s nothing to be concerned about.”
“I heard a gunshot.”
“And who are you, anyway?” said one woman, who wore a very prominent pearl necklace. “What are you doing here?”
“Look, he’s got someone in the car!”
“It’s a woman.”
“And she’s not moving.”
“What did you do to her?”
“I didn’t do anything,” said Rob. “Listen, I can explain. I know it seems strange, but…” He was talking in that calm voice of his. Or at least doing his best too. The situation was already starting to get to him.
Final Chaos_A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller Page 4