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

by Hunt, James

  “And what do you think they’ll ask for in return?” Jane snapped back. “I left for a reason, Lester. I left because those bastards are nothing but darkened, black hearts. You think they care about what we want? About what we want to build? They’re no better than the people who did all of this in their masks. They’re feckless. I won’t have ourselves attached to them again.”

  Jane walked to Lester, head held high, and took his hands in her own. “I picked you, Lester Percy. I chose your name because I didn’t want mine anymore. I picked you because your fire burned as hot as mine.”

  “Jane, I—“ Lester stopped, noticing something behind Jane, and she turned to look.

  “Don’t move.” Margaret Simmons had Gray in her arms and a pistol in her hand, which she had pressed against Gray’s skull. “None of you.”

  It was rare Jane was ever shocked or caught off guard. Of all the things she had seen and experienced over the years, there was little that could shake her boots. But seeing Margaret press the gun against Gray’s head was enough to do the trick.

  Margaret looked like a ghost of her former self. Her clothes were dirty and ragged, the expensive threads having lost their luster. Her normally perfectly manicured face and hair were void of makeup, revealing a woman who had reached the end of her very frayed rope.

  “Put down the gun, Margaret,” Jane said. “You don’t want to do this.”

  Both Lester and Donny remained tense on either side of Jane, and she knew that both of their rifles were out of reach. They had been caught with their pants down by someone Jane had never even considered a threat.

  “You killed him,” Margaret said through clenched teeth, casting her accusing glare at Percy. “All of this is because of you!”

  Lester didn’t move, but Jane sensed his anger rising. But she knew he had enough good sense to keep still. At least that’s what Jane hoped.

  “Everything was ruined because of you!” Margaret had raised her voice to a hysterical level. The pistol trembled in her hand, vibrating against Gray’s skull. “And now you’re going to pay!”

  “Wait!” Jane stretched her hand forward and took one step before she stopped, not wanting to push her luck. “I know you’re upset. I know killing Harry was wrong. But your husband brought the gun to our place. To our house. How would you have handled it?”

  “I would have called the cops!” Margaret yelled. “I wouldn’t have killed him!”

  “Okay,” Jane said. “But there aren’t any cops anymore, Margaret. Things are different now.”

  “You’re right,” Margaret said. “And if there aren’t any cops, that means I won’t go to jail for putting a bullet through your son’s head.”

  Lester made a move forward, but Jane stretched out her hand and stopped him from going any farther. Margaret flexed her fingers over the grip of the weapon. Her trigger finger rested precariously over the trigger. All it took was a slight pressure and Gray’s brains would spray over the ground. Being careful was an understatement at this point.

  “Lester might have pulled the trigger on Harry, but he didn’t kill him,” Jane said.

  Margaret scoffed. “You’d say anything to save your own skin here.”

  “I would,” Jane said. “But think about it. It was the Rikers who really put us all in this position. It was Liz Riker who brought the first gun into all of this. She helped escalate the situation. And don’t forget about your daughter.”

  Jane watched as Margaret’s face twitched. Nearly all teenage daughters had some type of strained relationship with their mother. But Jane seemed to have picked at a very fresh scab.

  “Nancy was the one who wouldn’t go home,” Jane said. “She was the one who wouldn’t listen to her father or you. And it was that girl’s stubborn resistance to authority that caused your husband to lose his way. If Nancy had just gone home, none of this would have happened.”

  Jane knew she was grasping at straws, but after all of the trauma the woman had experienced, Jane believed she could re-direct Margaret Simmons’ anger to someone else. Because Margaret was simply looking for someone to place her pain and anger since she was too weak to do it herself.

  “My daughter has always been willful,” Margaret said, her tone suggesting that she was considering what Jane had suggested. “She never listened. I always knew it would get her into trouble one day. She never had any understanding of the consequences of her actions. Her father protected her too much from the real world. She never had to fight to get what she wanted like I did.”

  “That’s right,” Jane said, egging Margaret forward. “She didn’t. But you can still show her that there are consequences. You can make sure she understands.”

  Jane watched the conflict on Margaret’s face. Right now, Margaret Simmons was staring down the abyss of the hardest decisions she would have to make in her life.

  Margaret grunted, shutting her eyes. “You’re all just a bunch of criminals. All you care about is saving your own skins. But I won’t let you get away with this. You’ve already gotten away with so much already.”

  Jane knew she was losing the fight as Margaret readjusted her grip on the weapon and pressed the gun harder against Gray’s skull. And she was losing patience for the woman.

  “You kill him, and we kill you,” Jane said, her tone matter of fact. “Do you want to die? Is that what you came here to do? Because you don’t need to put a bullet in my boy for us to kill you. I’d do that for you free of charge.”

  “I didn’t come here to die,” Margaret said.

  “Then let my son go,” Jane replied.

  Margaret looked between all three Percy adults, and then settled her eyes on Jane, and the steely gaze caused the hair on the back of Jane’s neck to stand straight up.

  “This will be on you,” Margaret said, speaking to Jane. “This weight will crush you, like the weight that crushed me.”

  NANCY WASN’T in the mood to do anything. All she wanted was to sit on the river bank and watch the waters roll past. It was hard to imagine how the world looked like before it caught fire. Nothing looked like it had before.

  And the contrast to the burned forest across the river bank to the side where life still bloomed was striking.

  Nancy tucked her knees into her chest and then wrapped her arms around her shins. She rested her chin on top of her knees and continued to stare at the smoking wreckage across the river. It was like staring into her past.

  Everything about her life had turned upside down. Her home? Gone. Father? Dead. Future? Erased. Everything she had hoped to do or be, had vanished in the blink of an eye.

  Nancy had no more friends. Her college plans didn’t matter anymore. Though she wasn’t too upset about no longer having to go to school. But the cost of missing class had come at too high of a price.

  Last night had been nothing but a replay of the images of her father’s burning body. She hadn’t actually seen it, but her imagination didn’t shy away from the details.

  When Nancy woke before dawn, she was even more tired than when she had passed out the night before. The constant nightmares had sapped her strength, and she struggled to keep her eyes open.

  But she knew how important it was to keep her eyes open now. With her mother catatonic and her father dead, there wasn’t anyone who was going to take care of her now. Except for maybe Gray.

  Nancy didn’t know how he was doing. There had been so much chaos when his family had arrived at the Riker’s house, and between the gunfire and the forest fires—she never had a chance to check to see if he was okay.

  She had been upset with him for staying with his family, but after seeing him bloodied on the Riker’s kitchen table, she wasn’t mad anymore. She had seen more blood in the last twenty-four hours than she had in her entire life.

  Life. She didn’t even know what that meant anymore. And then there was still her mother to deal with. The woman who had accused her of killing her father. The same woman who had run away from her husband and daughter when they needed h
er most.

  Still, Margaret Simmons was the only family Nancy had left. And as much as Nancy hated to admit it, she knew they would need each other. They were all they had left.

  Nancy stretched her neck and back and then struggled to stand. Once firmly upright on two feet, she paused for a moment to gather her strength. The conversation with her mother wouldn’t be pleasant, but it needed to happen. They were all each other had at the moment, and it was important that they both understood that.

  Because Nancy doubted her mother wanted to talk to her now.

  Nancy saw the Riker family near the bank. They held onto one another with a love that Nancy had never seen in her own family. Except for maybe her father. Nancy and her dad had always gotten along well. It was like they always shared a secret between them, though neither were sure what it was.

  But Nancy had never felt any type of connection with her mother. Margaret Simmons had always remained distant and cold, even when Nancy was little. There was never any affection from the woman, though Nancy longed for her mother’s approval. Not that she would ever admit that allowed.

  Nancy left the Rikers alone and searched for her mother, whom she had left in the woods. But when she returned to the spot where she had left her, Nancy found her mother gone.

  Nancy turned in a half-circle, unsure of where Margaret would have disappeared or why? The woman was hardly someone who enjoyed the outdoors. It wasn’t like she decided to go for a stroll in the woods unless—

  The Percys.

  Nancy’s heart rate quickened. She moved deeper into the woods, but then stopped. If the Percys had crossed the river, then they were probably still close to the water. They wouldn’t want to move Gray, not with his injury.

  Nancy headed farther downstream, mindful of where she stepped, listening for any sign of where her mother might have disappeared. She wasn’t sure how much distance she had covered when she first heard the voices, but she hurried to catch up to them.

  The voices grew more distinct the farther Nancy traveled, and she slowed her pace, not wanting to reveal herself too soon. The conversation sounded heated. Finally, Nancy found her mother.

  “Oh my God,” Nancy whispered and covered her mouth.

  Margaret held a gun to Gray’s head, and she was in a standoff with the Percys, who, by the looks of it, had been caught with their pants down and were unarmed.

  Nancy knew her mother was angry, but Gray didn’t do anything wrong. And she wasn’t about to let her mother kill the only boy she’d ever loved.

  Nancy moved steadily toward the scene, doing her best not to tremble with fear, though she didn’t think she was doing a very good job of it.

  At first, no one seemed to notice her, but then Donny Percy glanced toward her direction and pulled everyone else’s eyes to her. Nancy stopped, hands raised to her hips. She kept her body coiled for…well, she didn’t know exactly what yet.

  “Mom,” Nancy said, her voice cracking. “Let Gray go.”

  Margaret’s eyes were wild. She looked like a feral cat trying to intimidate the other animals from taking her prey. Nancy had never seen her mother so unhinged.

  “You,” Margaret spoke the word with a throaty disdain. “You little bitch!” Spittle flew from Margaret’s lips. “You’re the reason all of this is happening!”

  Nancy didn’t understand what her mother was saying, or why she was being so nasty, and while Nancy knew she should have been strong and tried to talk her mother down, she could only say one thing. “Why?” The question erupted through a sobbing choke, which Nancy held back, keeping her tears from falling. “Why are you doing this to me?” Nancy asked. “I’m your daughter!” Nancy wasn’t sure what she expected her mother to say, but she never imagined the words that came next.

  “You’re no daughter of mine,” Margaret said, the words so vitriol and hateful that they might as well have been bullets that cut through Nancy’s heart.

  But while Margaret and Nancy argued, Lester Percy had reached for his gun while Margaret was distracted, and neither of them saw as he aimed at Margaret’s head and pulled the trigger as Nancy screamed in horror.

  19

  Ben didn’t want to get up from the ground. He wanted to stay on the riverbank with his family and sleep for the rest of the day, just holding them. But the reality of their situation no longer allowed for a lazy Saturday. He doubted they would relax for a very long time.

  The world had changed. The coming days would define their new normal. Ben needed to prepare his family for what came next, and he couldn’t do that sitting on his rear end.

  Ben kissed his wife and then whispered in her ear. “We need to get moving.”

  Liz nodded, and then reluctantly leaned off of Ben’s shoulder and shook Connor awake, who had fallen asleep in her lap, with Tommy falling asleep in Ben’s lap.

  The boys groaned their dissent upon awakening, and while they never actually stood, Ben and Liz were glad they at least kept their eyes open.

  “It’s going to be hard to get them to go for a hike,” Liz said. “They’re exhausted.”

  “I know,” Ben said. “We’re all exhausted, but until we make it to the training facility, we’re exposed.”

  Liz grew still and tense. “Do you think those people are out here? The ones you said shot Kurt? The ones you saw in the city?”

  “They were in the forest with us, too, Mom,” Connor said.

  “What?” Liz looked to Connor and then to Ben for confirmation.

  Liz arched both eyebrows, waiting for an explanation that Ben didn’t think he had the strength to tell.

  “We ran into some trouble, but we’re fine,” Ben said. “I handled it.”

  Liz stepped closer and lowered her voice so the boys couldn’t hear the conversation. “Handled it, how?” She studied Ben’s face, and when he didn’t answer, she began to fill in the blanks herself. “Did you kill them?”

  Ben hadn’t really had time to think about what he had done in the woods. All he was concerned with was getting himself and his sons home alive. He had pushed away everything else.

  But now, with Liz asking him about what had happened, Ben was forced to relive the encounter, and face the consequences of what he had done. He had killed two men, without remorse. And now he wondered what that made him.

  “Ben?” Liz asked.

  Ben didn’t realize how difficult it was to tell his wife the truth. But there was little he didn’t tell her, and he knew lying now would only make things worse in the long run.

  Ben pulled Liz further away from the boys, making sure they couldn’t hear. “The men were going to hurt the boys. I killed them before they killed us.” His voice was steadier than he anticipated as he spoke the words aloud. He wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing.

  It was hard to read Liz’s thoughts. Her expression betrayed no such tell, and Ben grew more anxious the longer her silence stretched.

  “There was no other choice,” Ben said.

  Liz finally nodded. “Right.” She turned away, rubbing her arms as she hugged herself and stared at the ground.

  “Liz—”

  “Where’s Susan?” Liz asked, suddenly dropping her arms.

  Liz looked around, frowning. “Do you see Susan anywhere? Or Nancy and Margaret?”

  “Susan?” Ben shouted into the woods.

  “Susan!” Liz shouted as well.

  Only silence answered back to them, and the longer it remained quiet, the more worried Ben became.

  “Where the hell would she have gone?” Liz asked. “She was right here!”

  “I know,” Ben said, growing concerned.

  “Here!” Susan’s voice traveled from deep in the woods. “I’m here!” She sounded distressed, and both Liz and Ben moved toward the sound of her voice.

  “Wait,” Ben said, reaching for Liz’s arm. “You stay here with the boys. I’ll call you if I need help.”

  “She could be in labor,” Liz said. “You really think you can handle that by yours
elf?”

  Ben wasn’t sure what he could or couldn’t handle anymore. The events of the past twelve hours had tested him in ways he never thought possible.

  “I’ll be fine,” Ben said. “If I need help, then I’ll call. I don’t want to leave the boys alone.”

  Liz nodded, and then Ben hurried into the woods.

  “Keep talking, Susan!” Ben said.

  “Okay, I’m talking, still talking.”

  Susan’s voice grew louder, and Ben weaved around trees, bushes, and rocks. The foliage was thick and the terrain difficult to travel in any condition, but Ben wasn’t sure how the pregnant woman had made it this far on her own.

  The woman was more resourceful than Ben gave her credit for.

  “Susan?” Ben asked, planting his foot on top of a rock as he paused to get his bearings.

  “I’m right here,” Susan said.

  Her voice was close, and Ben veered left toward the top of an old tree trunk, covered in green moss, bushes, and vines. The top half had long since fallen, the trunk hollowed out, but it still provided life for the forest even after it was gone.

  Ben found Susan behind one tree trunk. She had her pants down at her ankles, her back up against the tree, and she was breathing heavily, her bangs hanging over her forehead in think strings, plastered to her skin by sweat.

  “I thought I had to go to the bathroom, but then my stomach starting hurting really bad and I think—” Susan leaned forward and scrunched her face up in pain, baring her clenched teeth as her entire body tensed, and then she let out a low groan and finally took a deep breath as the pain passed. She remained hunched forward for a moment, catching her breath, and then she rested her back against the base of the tree trunk. “I think the baby’s coming.”

  Ben figured as much, and he shouldered his weapon and knelt by Susan’s side. “Has your water broke?”

  Susan nodded. “I mean, I think so.”

  “How far apart are your contractions?” Ben asked, knowing that would tell them how much time they had before the baby was on its way.