by Hunt, James
Liz explained as best she could about what was happening, and how no one knew how long the effects of the EMP were going to last. Liz wasn’t sure how much of the news sunk in because Margaret’s expression remained stoic.
“I see,” Margaret said, though her tone was skeptical. “Well, I’m sure everything will get sorted out.” She smiled and squeezed her hands tighter. She lingered, and Liz sensed Margaret’s worry beneath the calm façade.
“Why don’t I come up with you to the Percys’ house,” Liz said.
Margaret frowned. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”
“The Percys just need to be reminded they’re not the only people on the street,” Liz said. “Susan, you stay here. I’ll be back soon.”
“Okay,” Susan said.
Liz escorted Margaret outside and then locked the house. She and Margaret kept a brisk pace up the dirt road. Margaret did a talented job at keeping her balance in her heels on their walk.
“Thank you for this,” Margaret said between breaths. “I love Harry, but I think he overestimates himself sometimes.”
“I understand,” Liz said, feeling the weight of the pistol on her hip.
Eventually, Liz heard the gunshots Margaret described, along with the hollers that fell between the thundering gunfire. She understood what Margaret had meant by the partying being “different” than the Percys’ usual fare. It sounded wilder, unabashed—unfiltered.
The gunshots and voices grew louder after they passed the Simmons home, and when they finally reached the road that dead-ended at the Percys’ old log cabin, which looked one bad winter away from collapse, Liz tensed.
The noise was coming from around back, and Liz went ahead first, stepping around the old beer cans and ammunition shells that lined the ground around the property.
Liz held her pistol grip, unsure of how the interaction would go down, and she jolted from the sound of the shotgun shell and the subsequent shatter of glass as she stepped into the backyard.
“Fuckin’ bullseye!” Lester Percy had one hand holding a shotgun, and he used the other to reach for a beer can off of a high tree stump. He sipped from it and then tossed the gun to his younger brother, Donny. “Beat that, shit brains.”
Harry Simmons stood off to the side, looking out of place in his red-and-yellow checkered polo and tan slacks. Dirt covered his dress shoes, and he looked to their daughter, Nancy, who sat in a lawn chair next to Gray Percy, arms crossed over her chest.
“Nancy, come home now,” Harry said, his voice shaking. “Right now.”
“Calm down, Simmons,” Lester said, sipping his beer. “The girl don’t wanna go. So she’s not gonna go.”
“Nancy Simmons, I am your father and—"
Donny pumped the shotgun, loading another shell into the chamber and then pressed the weapon’s stock against his shoulder. “Pull!”
Gray Percy sat in a lawn chair next to Nancy Simmons, an empty beer bottle in his hand, and then chucked it up and away from the two of them.
The bottle soared through the air and Donny kept a bead on it as it arced, and just before it dropped, he squeezed the trigger and the bottle exploded, sending tiny shards onto the ground.
Lester snorted. “Lucky shot.”
“Luck don’t have nothing to do with it,” Donny said. “Gray, you’re up.”
Gray attempted to get up, but Nancy pulled him back down and then looked at her father before she kissed him.
Lester chuckled, and Harry’s cheeks reddened.
When Nancy pulled back, she smiled and then pushed Gray out of his seat. “Get it, baby.”
Gray smiled, but before he made it to his Uncle Donny, he stopped, noticing Liz and Margaret near the house. “Mrs. Riker.”
Lester and Donny Percy turned, both quiet.
“Gray,” Liz said. “Lester, Donny.”
Lester stared at Liz, beer in hand, frozen save for the light twitch to the left of his nose. “Lizzy Riker.” He drank from his beer.
“Don’t call me that, Lester,” Liz said.
Lester held up his palms apologetically and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry. I should have addressed you more properly like my son. Mrs. Riker.” He faked a half bow.
Donny remained quiet, gun in hand, and Liz saw his eyes go to the pistol at her hip.
“Little early to be going this hard, don’t you think, Lester?” Liz asked.
Lester spread his arms wide. “Aww, we’re just having a little fun, Mrs. Riker.”
“Cut the shit, Lester,” Liz said. “You’re drinking with minors. That’s a felony.”
“I can do what I want on my property,” Lester replied, an edge to his tone. “And that includes dealing with trespassers however I want.” He chugged the rest of his beer and crumpled the can before dropping it to the ground. “And I want all of you off my property. Now.”
Liz sensed the shift in his tone. She wasn’t sure how many beers Lester and his brother had drunk, but she knew it didn’t take much for them to get violent. “Harry, get Nancy and let’s go.”
Harry stepped toward his daughter, but Lester held out his arm.
“You heard her, Daddy,” Lester said. “She don’t want to go.”
Lester turned his attention back to Liz and frowned. “What the hell are you trying to do by helping these people? You know that they’re trying to buy our land right from under our feet, right?” He turned back to Harry. “But, I guess your little development plan is on hold for now.”
Harry Simmons quivered, but to his credit, he didn’t back down. “You’re an animal. All I’m trying to do is bring prosperity to this community while you run drugs and God knows what else!”
Lester laughed and spread his arms wide. “And what’s wrong with a man trying to do what he can to provide for his family?” He turned in a half-circle and then pointed back at Harry. “You’re the real criminal. How many people have you forced out of their homes?”
“It’s business,” Harry answered.
Lester stepped closer. “Well, it’s just business for me too. We just execute our businesses a little differently.”
“My businesses don’t kill anyone,” Harry countered.
Lester’s eyes lit up with anger, and he moved with a threatening glare toward Harry.
“Nancy Anne Simmons, you come with us right now,” Margaret said, her voice an angry whisper.
Liz watched as Nancy remained uncomfortable in the chair. What had started as a random act of teenage defiance had suddenly escalated into a situation beyond her years and capacity to handle.
“The girl stays as long as he wants,” Lester said. “My son will send her home when he’s finished.” He smiled, then he leaned into Harry’s ear and whispered, “Maybe we’ll all take a turn.”
Harry’s cheeks flushed red, and he swung at Lester’s head. But Harry Simmons wasn’t a fighter. He was a paunchy man in his early fifties with thinning hair and practically zero muscle.
Lester easily ducked out of Harry’s way and countered with a stiff right hook that knocked Harry to the ground.
Margaret gasped as she covered her mouth, and Lester stood over Harry, a wild edge to his laughter.
“Come on, Harry! Get up! Let’s see what you got!” Lester kicked Harry in the stomach, and the man buckled on the ground.
“Lester, that’s enough!” Liz barked.
But Lester wasn’t listening. He was a shark who had finally sensed blood in the water. He dropped to his knees and raised his fist, bringing it down hard on Harry’s face. The single blow caused Harry’s body to go limp.
When Liz saw Lester raise his hand again, she unholstered the weapon, fired a shot in the air, and then aimed it at Lester. “That’s enough!”
Lester froze with his fist high in the air, breathing heavily, his eyes wild with bloodlust. “You point that gun at me and you better not be afraid to pull the trigger.”
“I’m not,” Liz said.
“And neither am I.�
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Liz broke her concentration as she glanced to her left, where Jane Percy, Lester’s wife, stood with a rifle aimed at Liz.
“You put that gun down before I blow your pretty little head right off.” Jane had one eye squinted shut as she aimed the weapon at Liz’s head.
Liz knew this was a bad situation because as violent as Lester and Donny Percy might have been, Jane Percy was the worst of all of them. The woman was a ticking time bomb, and Liz knew Jane would pull the trigger if she wanted too.
Everyone froze, and Liz knew she would have to make the first move. “Margaret, get your husband. Nancy,” she looked to the stunned teenager who stood next to Gray, holding his hand, “you need to go home now.”
“No,” Lester said, his voice booming. “She isn’t going anywhere.”
“The girl stays,” Jane said.
Nancy opened her mouth but said nothing. The girl was in shock.
Liz knew she didn’t have the upper hand anymore. The best-case scenario was to retreat and hope this blew over. “Margaret, go get Harry.”
Margaret nodded and hesitantly stepped toward her husband.
“Get off of him, Lester,” Liz said, and then added, “please.”
The last thing she wanted was a shootout in the Percys’ backyard, and Liz breathed a sigh of relief when Lester stood and backed away.
“Harry,” Margaret said, helping her husband up. “We need to go.”
Disoriented from the fight, Harry leaned on Margaret to stand. Blood covered his face and stained the front of his polo. He took a few baby steps, and it wasn’t until Margaret and Harry were behind her that Liz started to move.
Jane kept a bead on Liz the entire way even after she lowered the pistol and disappeared behind the house. And after they returned to the dirt road, the Percys continued shooting their guns, howling as if they had just won the Alamo.
5
Ben moved as quickly as Kurt could shamble along, and he did his best to keep them under cover because he didn’t know how many more snipers might be lurking throughout the city. Plus, keeping close to the building allowed them to say off of the streets where the bulk of the crowds had gathered.
People were sprinting in random directions, and Ben suspected half of them had no idea where they were running, only that they needed to move. The instinct was right, the execution poor.
“I-I can’t,” Kurt said, his voice breathless and his face growing pale as the moon that hung above their heads. “I can’t keep going.” Kurt slowed, his weight growing heavier in Ben’s arms as the man’s strength faded.
But Ben kept him propped up, refusing to give up their forward progress. “You can, Kurt. Keep pushing. I can’t do this by myself.” Though if Kurt didn’t stiffen up, Ben knew he’d have to. “The station’s close. We’re almost there. C’mon, Kurt.”
Ben shook Kurt, and the motion elicited a groan mixed with anger and pain, and Kurt fell into another steady rhythm of limping forward. Ben knew this was probably the last bit of strength he was going to get from Kurt, so he made it count.
The pair double-timed it down the street. The crowds continued to worsen, and another explosion caused everyone to duck and freeze.
The ground rumbled, and it was enough to throw both Ben and Kurt off-kilter, and Ben slammed into the brick wall on his left. He glanced up toward the sky and saw smoke rising to the west. It was far enough away to be out of the city, and he racked his brain to figure out what it could have been, and then he remembered the power plant.
The only thing of note in that direction was the water treatment facility.
“Ben…” Kurt’s voice slurred, and his head dipped as his body grew heavier in Ben’s arms.
With Kurt fading, Ben hurried forward, practically dragging Kurt along the sidewalk as the crowd grew even more panicked after the explosion.
People with frightened expressions passed Ben and Kurt, everyone sprinting in sporadic directions. People collided into one another, the stampede triggered by fear of the unknown, everyone clinging to the desperation of their survival.
But Ben kept his eyes focused ahead, never breaking his stride through the crowd. Unlike the others, he had a goal and a destination in mind. In times of crisis, a clear head saved lives.
Ben finally saw the fire station ahead, and the sight of the old brick building provided the needed motivation to pull Kurt the rest of the way. It was like a bright beacon of hope for Ben, and he knew he’d get the help he needed inside.
The bay doors were open, and both the truck and the ambulance were parked inside. The lights were off, like the rest of the city, and Ben pulled Kurt next to the ambulance, setting him down as gently as he could.
Ben checked Kurt’s pulse one more time, making sure the vitals were still there. Kurt was starting to lose consciousness, but he was still alive.
“Hang on, buddy.”
Ben sprinted toward the station door and steppe inside. “Hey! It’s Ben! I need some help out here!” Standing in the station’s kitchen, Ben could make out the interior with what little moonlight that penetrated the window to his left. But he found no one inside. “Hello?” Ben shouted.
“Hang on!” the voice billowed from the back, and Ben recognized the captain’s bluster.
A few seconds later, a glowing light preceded Captain Hawthorne’s big-bodied frame. He wore his white shirt, badge clipped to the left breast pocket, and black slacks and shoes. He was a heavyset man, and with almost forty years on the job, he had earned a few extra pounds.
“Ben?” Hawthorne asked, surprised, candle in his hand. “What are you doing here?”
“I have Kurt with me,” Ben answered. “I need to get into the ambulance. He’s hurt.”
Hawthorne said nothing else and followed Ben into the bays, opening the back ambulance doors while Ben lifted Kurt inside.
Ben quickly set up an IV, knowing the man needed to replenish his fluids.
“Do we have his medical records?” Ben asked. “He might need a blood transfusion.”
“They should be in the office,” Hawthorne said, keeping the candle close so Ben could use it to set up the IV. “What the hell happened?”
“A sniper shot him,” Ben said, and then plunged the needle into one of the veins in the crook of Kurt’s right arm. “Where is everyone?”
“I sent them home,” Hawthorne said. “With the trucks not working and no communications, there was no sense in keeping everyone here. They needed to be with their families.”
“It’s starting to fall apart out there,” Ben said.
“I heard the explosions,” Hawthorne said. “Do you know what’s going on?”
Ben had shared his prepping advice and experience with everyone at the station, but he hadn’t told them every disaster scenario in detail. There were just too many to count.
Ben filled the captain in on what he believed was happening and how the EMP would affect the area and the rest of the country.
“And you think this is happening everywhere?” Hawthorne asked.
Ben finished with Kurt’s IV and then reached for the fresh bandages. “We’ll find out soon enough, but, yeah. I think it’s happening everywhere.”
Hawthorne swiped his palm down his face, reddening his skin as the realities of what that type of information could mean sank into his thoughts. “That’s… How can someone even do something like that?”
“It could be done a couple of ways, but the most likely is a detonating a nuke in the atmosphere,” Ben said. “The nuke wouldn’t cause radiation, but it would provide enough range to send the electromagnetic pulse over the rest of the country. Hand me those bandages.”
Hawthorne passed the bandages to Ben. “But how… How would that even happen.”
“I don’t know how, Captain,” Ben said, re-wrapping Kurt’s injury, which was still bleeding. “I’m just telling you what could have happened.”
Hawthorne nodded and turned his attention to Kurt. “I’ll get his file.”
&nb
sp; Ben stayed with Kurt, watching the young man as he drifted in and out of consciousness. When the captain returned, they learned that Hawthorne’s blood type matched Kurt’s for a transfusion. Ben hooked up the captain, and they started the process.
“He’ll need to get to a doctor to remove the bullet and stitch him up,” Ben said.
“I can take him,” Hawthorne said. “I doubt you came to the city to come to visit me.” He smiled.
“I need to get my boys,” Ben said. “But after I get them home, I will come back for you and Kurt.”
“I can take care of him,” Hawthorne said. “Don’t worry about us.”
But it was hard for Ben not to worry. The captain might have had a lot of experience on the job, but he didn’t have any experience dealing with something like this. And the man was no longer in his physical prime.
“Go,” Hawthorne said, almost like he could read Ben’s mind.
Ben stepped out of the ambulance. “Hopefully, it won’t take me long.”
“Give my best to the boys and Liz,” Hawthorne said.
“Thanks, Cap.” Ben left Kurt’s rifle and the sniper’s weapon, knowing he needed to travel light to make up time, and the weapons might come in handy for the captain should things get worse.
Once Ben gathered the rest of his belongings, he walked out of the bays and onto the road, but that was as far as he made it before he stopped.
An orange glow was just beyond the row of buildings ahead.
“No,” Ben said, the word escaping with an exhale.
Ben sprinted down the street, clearing the row of buildings so he could get a better look, and he skidded to a stop when he saw buildings on fire.
The forest fire had made its way into the city, and it was spreading north with increased speed. The dry weather had made it easy for the fires to arrive quickly. It wouldn’t be long before the flames took the rest of the city and continued its ravaging march north.