EMP Post-Apocalyptic Survival | Book 1 | Shelter In Place

by Hunt, James

  Liz carefully lifted Harry’s shirt, and fund a small hole dripping blood just below the mid-thoracic section of his back.

  “Okay, the bullet passed through,” Liz said. “That’s good. Now, we, um.” She shut her eyes again, trying to recall the next steps. “We need to sterilize the wound and dress it to stop the bleeding.” She snapped her attention to Nancy. “I need you to come and hold your father, so I can go and get the supplies.”

  Nancy remained frozen at the foot of the bed, her eyes wide with fear.

  “Nancy!” Liz barked, and the girl jumped. “I need you to help your mother.”

  Nancy nodded and then took Liz’s place.

  Liz rushed out of the room, passing a frantic Susan as she hurried into the garage.

  “What’s happening?” Susan asked.

  Liz didn’t stop to explain, grabbing one of the lanterns on her run. She hurried into the garage and found the box of first aid supplies. She turned toward the door, but then stopped, realizing she would need more gear.

  Ben had collected IV bags and clean needles in case they were ever in need of some professional equipment. Liz knew they would need to replenish Harry’s fluids, and he would most likely need a blood transfusion and stitches. There was also the possibility of internal bleeding—

  Liz knew that all of the latter was beyond her skill set. But none of the future necessities would matter if they couldn’t stop the bleeding now. She needed to focus on what she could control at the moment. It was the best she could do.

  Liz collected her needed items and then returned to the guest room. She sterilized her hands and then instructed Nancy and Margaret to remove Harry’s shirt.

  Once Liz had cleaned away the blood, the actual bullet wound was much smaller than anyone expected. Just a small hole just to the left and above the navel. It was hard to believe something so tiny could cause so much damage. But it did.

  Once Liz sterilized the wound on the front and back, she applied the clotting powder and then placed white bandages over each of the wounds. Finished, Liz stepped back, hands shaking, and reached for one of the IV bags.

  “What do we do now?” Margaret asked.

  “We monitor his vitals,” Liz said, hooking the bag up to the bedpost and then ran the line down to Harry’s arm, where she found a vein in the crook of his elbow. “The meds in the bag will help with some of the pain while they replenish his fluids. He also might need a blood transfusion. Do we know his type?”

  “AB positive,” Margaret said.

  “Universal recipient,” Liz said, doing her best to steady her hand before she pierced Harry’s skin. “That’s good.”

  Once she inserted the IV, Liz adjusted the drip and then stepped back.

  “Do we give him the transfusion now?” Nancy asked.

  Liz shook her head. “I don’t know how to do it. But Ben will.”

  Margaret dropped to her knees and placed a hand on Harry’s forehead. “My sweet husband.” She kissed his cheek and then sniffled, holding back more tears.

  Nancy took a step toward her father, but then stopped dead in her tracks when Margaret shot her a dagger-like glare.

  “Don’t you think you’ve done enough?” Margaret asked, a nasty bite in her tone.

  Nancy frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “You just had to go out with that boy to upset your father,” Margaret said, slowly starting to unravel. “Now, look at what happened.”

  Nancy was taken aback. “You think this is my fault?”

  Liz stepped between the mother and daughter, hoping to diffuse the situation before it grew out of hand. “Let’s not say anything in the heat of the moment that we’re going to regret later.” But neither of the Simmons’ women heeded her advice.

  “If you hadn’t acted like such a spoiled brat, we wouldn’t be in this mess.” Margaret laced her words with heavy disdain. “If your father dies, his death will be on your hands.”

  “Fuck you!” Nancy said, spitting the words out between tears. “You think this is my fault? Why didn’t you stop him from coming up there? Huh? You’re just a ragged old hag who he doesn’t care about anymore!”

  “Such a little bitch,” Margaret said, her voice a harsh whisper.

  “You’re the bitch!” Nancy shouted.

  “Enough!” Liz raised her voice, matching the anger of the two women. “Now is not the time for this. And both of you should know better.”

  Nancy wiped her eyes, shaking her head. “Whatever. Fuck this.” She stormed out of the room, and then there was the slam of the front door.

  Liz turned to Margaret, waiting for the woman to go after her daughter, but Margaret remained by her husband’s side.

  “You know this isn’t her fault,” Liz said.

  Margaret shook her head and then kissed Harry’s hand, which she held in both of her own. She said nothing else.

  Liz left the room and walked out the front door. She found Nancy sitting on the front porch step, arms wrapped around her legs with her knees in her chest, and her forehead was resting on top of her knees. She was crying.

  Liz softly joined Nancy’s side, but the girl didn’t acknowledge her presence. “Your mother didn’t mean it.”

  Nancy lifted her head; her face was red and streaked with tears. “You don’t know her very well. She’s always been like that, but she’s only ever done it behind closed doors.” She wiped her hand beneath her nose and shook her head. “She’s right, though.”

  “No,” Liz said. “She is not right. This is not your fault. Lester Percy shot your father. Not you. Hey.” Liz waited until Nancy was looking at her. “This is not on you,” Liz said.

  Nancy cried again, and Liz gently held the girl as she did. She couldn’t imagine having a mother who blamed something so terrible on her, but she had been lucky with her parents.

  Once Nancy calmed down, she straightened up, sitting on her own. She looked a little better than before, and Liz was glad. “Do you think he’s going to make it?” Nancy asked.

  Liz knew the truth was a hard pill to swallow, but it was even harder to speak aloud. But she didn’t want to trick the girl with false hope. “Gunshot wounds to the stomach are highly fatal. And without properly trained medical professionals—”

  “But Mr. Riker is an EMT, right?” Nancy asked. “He should be able to fix my dad.”

  “He’s a first responder,” Liz answered. “He can stabilize, but he’s not a doctor, and he’s not a surgeon.”

  Nancy studied the ground for a minute, and it looked like her mind was going a mile a minute. “Okay, so, we need to get him to a hospital.” She looked at Liz. “We can take him. I’ll help carry him.”

  Liz knew Nancy was trying to make things right, and it was because Margaret’s guilt propelled her. “The nearest hospital is fifteen miles away. It would take half a day to carry your father there, and that’s if we don’t run into any trouble. Without a car, we can’t take him. And I don’t even know if he would survive the trip.”

  Nancy’s eyes watered, but she didn’t cry. “I don’t want to lose him.”

  “I know,” Liz said. “But all we can do right now is wait and hope for the best. I know it’s not ideal, but it’s all we have.”

  Nancy nodded and then wiped her eyes. “I should go back inside. She might hate me, but she can’t stop me from being with my dad.” She stood and then looked down at Liz. “Thank you, Mrs. Riker.”

  Liz grabbed Nancy’s hand and squeezed. “You guys will make it through this.”

  Once Liz let Nancy go, she remained on the porch alone. She stared out at the driveway, wishing Ben would come running up the drive with Tommy and Connor so she could wrap her arms around them. She hated not having her family here. And as she stared out into the darkness, she wondered how much longer she would have to wait before they came home.

  11

  J ane knew their window of opportunity was closing, and she spent the entire trip back to the cabin, formulating the best approach to loot the
town.

  No police were present in the street, and from what Jane was able to see from the woods, she doubted any of the powder puffs down there were carrying weapons. And even if they were, they were more likely to run away than engage in any type of fight. Most people were all bark and no bite.

  When Jane and Gray Percy returned to the cabin, Lester and Donny had already finished loading their weapons, and Lester was chomping at the bit to jump into action.

  “So, what’s the play?” Lester asked, looking to Jane.

  “Everything’s shut down,” Jane answered. “Right now, people are in the dazed-and-confused stage of a crisis. They don’t know what’s going on, and they’re content to wait until someone tells them what they need to do.”

  Lester scoffed. “Sheep.”

  “So, what do we grab?” Donny asked. “Cash. Jewels? Watches?”

  “None of that shit is going to matter when you can’t feed yourself,” Jane answered, the tone in her voice meant to put Donny down. “We go after food first. Anything non-perishable. And look for barter items. Booze. Toilet paper. Feminine products.”

  Lester winced. “Are you fucking kidding me? I thought we were going to take back what’s ours? It sounds like we’re just going to the grocery store.”

  Jane approached her husband, gun in hand, and her slow, methodical steps caused him to shrink backward. “We’re dealing with something that’s never happened before. And the first thing we need to do is make sure we have everything we need to survive, and then some. So if your feeble little brains need something to compare it to, then we’re stocking up for the winter. And we need to act like this is going to be a winter that never ends.”

  “You really think it’s going to be that bad?” Lester asked.

  “Let me put it this way,” Jane answered. “Do you really think Ben Riker would have left his wife alone during all of this to go off somewhere? Does that strike you as the Ben Riker we know?”

  Lester’s cheeks reddened. The mere mention of Ben’s name caused his blood pressure to spike.

  “No,” Jane said, answering for her husband. “The only thing that matters now is making sure we have what we need to get us through the storm. And right now, this place is ripe for the picking. But when everyone realizes what we know right now? It’s going to be too late.”

  “So, after we get the supplies, then what?” Donny asked.

  Lester smiled. “Then, we have leverage.”

  Jane reciprocated her husband’s grin. She knew there were some brains beneath that thick skull of his. Even after all of these years, he was able to surprise her.

  “And then we use that leverage to sweep over anyone that stands in our way,” Jane said.

  Lester looked to Jane, an intensity to his gaze that she hadn’t seen since they were first married and both of them were convinced they were going to set the world on fire.

  “We’ll hit Larry’s Grocer first,” Jane said. “Let’s go.”

  The Percy clan emerged from their cabin, and Jane and Lester led Donny and Gray through the woods down to Main Street.

  Jane kept a careful eye on Gray, knowing her son was still on uneasy footing after the situation with the Simmons family. But she knew he would pull through. Blood was always thicker than water. And their blood was strong.

  The family moved quickly through the woods. Everyone hunted, so they were all naturally light on their feet. They might as well have been nothing but a breeze through the trees. The birds and the bugs barely noticed them.

  It had been a while since all of them had done something together. It had always been difficult to get everyone in the Percy clan on the same page. They all had a history of being strong-willed, and while it made for a formidable individual, when it came time to band together, there was always resistance.

  Most members of the Percy clan leaned toward the belief that you were better off on your own. But it was that line of thinking that had slowly destroyed the family’s wealth and influence over the past two hundred years. They had lost the ability to see beyond themselves. And while Jane wasn’t about to hold hands and sing “Kumbaya,” she knew it was important for them to be on the same page. It could mean the difference between them fading into dust and rebuilding an empire.

  Jane looked to her left and right, watching the Percy men skillfully move through the woods, armed and prepared to take down whatever obstacles stood in their way.

  The scene brought to mind the image of a wolf pack, and Jane smiled. That’s what they had always been. But there had been too many lone wolves to break away. Now, they had banded together, and they were stronger as a pack.

  Jane and Lester slowed as they neared the edge of the forest and Main Street came into view. Most of the crowds had remained where they were before, and Jane was glad to find the sheep still sitting idle on their thumbs.

  All four of the Percy family members moved close to one another. They remained quiet save for the quick panting of their breaths from the hurried descent down the mountain.

  “We can go in the back of the store,” Jane said as she pointed out the entrance at the rear of the building. “I doubt there will be anyone inside. I think most people would have already left by now anyway.”

  “What about good ’ol Larry boy?” Donny asked. “He’s never liked us.”

  “And I’ve never liked him,” Lester answered. “He tries to pull any shit, then we take care of him like Harry Simmons.”

  Jane turned to Gray, and she saw the conflict on her son’s face. “Are you ready?”

  Gray nodded and then looked forward again.

  Jane knew time would tell whether or not her son would be able to follow through with their plan, but she already had something in mind for her boy when they set foot into the store. She was determined to make a man out of him and cement him as a true-blooded member of their family. His life—and the future of their family—depended on it.

  Jane and Lester led the charge toward the back of the building while everyone else was distracted by the glow of the fires, which provided just enough light to guide them into the building.

  The back door was locked, but one quick strike from the butt of Donny’s rifle granted them entry.

  “I’m surprised the old-timer locked the door,” Lester said. “He’s always talking about how neighborly everyone is around here. Guess he doesn’t necessarily trust all of us.” He laughed and then followed Jane inside.

  They entered the stock room, and Jane saw the shelves overflowed with goods. She walked over to the canned goods and tossed one of the cans to Lester, who snatched it out of the air with one hand.

  “Jackpot!” Lester said.

  Jane nodded. “There’s more than we can carry on one trip. We’ll need to set up a lookout, and have the rest of us make runs.” She turned back to look at the men, and when they didn’t start moving, she raised her eyebrows. “Well, I sure as shit ain’t running up and down the hill.”

  Gray slung his rifle over his shoulder by the strap and then grabbed a cart. “We can start filling these up and then push them up the hill.”

  “Smart thinking boy,” Lester said, tossing one of the cans into the cart, and then backtracked to the door which led to the store.

  “What are you doing?” Gray asked.

  “We need to clear the place,” Lester answered, a smile in his voice. “Make sure it’s secure.”

  “Dad, I don’t—”

  Lester disappeared into the store, leaving Gray, Jane, and Donny in the back room. And it didn’t take long for Lester to find trouble as shouts echoed through the walls, and all three of them sprinted into the main section of the store.

  Jane easily spotted Lester over the short aisles that ran the length of the grocery’s open floor. Larry’s was only a small operation, servicing the Bear Ridge community. Everyone who lived in the area shopped here, and they all knew Larry, and he knew all of them.

  The old man was a bastard, having always turned his nose up to the Percy’s, and
Jane suspected Lester was in the mood for a little payback. And she was right.

  Lester had the owner at gunpoint by one of the registers. “You think you’re tough, old-timer?”

  Larry Quidd was in his early seventies. He was a short man but thin. He had served in the army and fought in Vietnam, and he sported one of his veteran hats now. He dressed in a plain white shirt and overalls; they were old but clean. Wrinkles and liver spots covered most of his exposed skin along his face and neck, and his hair was buzzed short, the same type of hairstyle he probably wore in the army. The man was stubborn, and he showed no signs of fear even with the weapon pointed at him and Lester’s finger on the trigger.

  “You’re just a punk,” Larry said, disdain in his voice, and then he turned to find the rest of the Percy family in the store. “All of you are rotten to the core.”

  “Hey!” Lester shouted and then positioned the end of his rifle against Larry’s forehead. “You watch your mouth when you’re talking about my family. You’re not the one calling the shots here, geezer, I am. And you can’t call for help.”

  “I don’t need help to take care of you,” Larry said.

  Lester laughed but kept the barrel against the old store owner’s head. “You really don’t give a shit about dying, do you?”

  “Dad, let him go,” Gray said, stepping forward.

  Lester shot his son a disapproving glare. “You gone soft on me, boy?”

  Jane knew this was an important moment for her son. He had walked on the cusp of switching between his family and moving away from the unit. It was time he solidified his position with his family.

  “Let Gray shoot him,” Jane said.

  Both Lester and Gray looked at Jane with surprise, but while Lester’s surprise brightened to a grin, Gray’s faded into a frown.

  “What?” Gray asked, his tone both shocked and appalled. “I’m not going to do that.”

  Jane approached her son, looking up to him with a glint of hope in her eyes. “You’re one of us, Gray. This is what your family needs right now.”