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

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EMP Post-Apocalyptic Survival | Book 1 | Shelter In Place Page 20

by Hunt, James


  “What was it like?” Marty asked, his tone like that of a child asking a father something he couldn’t understand. “To kill someone?”

  Ben hesitated, unsure of how to articulate the most harrowing act any person could commit to another. “I honestly didn’t think about it at the moment. All I knew was that I had to stop the person to get to my boys.”

  Ben was suddenly transported back onto the rooftop in Asheville, the man’s hands gripped tightly around his throat, choking the life out of him, and he suddenly grew tense.

  “Ben?” Marty asked.

  Ben snapped himself away from the memory.

  “It’s hard taking another man’s life,” Ben answered. “You’re not prepared for it, no matter what you tell yourself or why you’re doing it. Because the aftermath sits with you for a long time, and no matter what you do, you won’t be able to get it out of your head. It will follow you.”

  Ben knew it wasn’t the answer that Marty wanted to hear, but it was the truth. Marty nodded and said nothing else until Jeff returned.

  “I didn’t see anyone,” Jeff said.

  “Then that makes things simple,” Ben said, turning to face the building again. “We go in through the front. I’ll take the lead. Rules stay the same. You follow me, stay alert, and do everything I do, understand?”

  Both men nodded.

  Ben didn’t think any of them were ready for what they were about to encounter, but he knew the longer they waited on the sidelines, the less time they had to stop the dam from blowing up.

  “Let’s go,” Ben said.

  Ben led the charge forward toward the front entrance, Marty and Jeff following in his footsteps. When Ben reached the door, and he paused for a moment, taking a breath, and mentally preparing himself for what lay on the other side.

  Ben opened the door quickly, clearing the left and the right. Ben’s heart rate skyrocketed, but once they cleared the front area, Ben propped the door open to keep the light and headed toward the stairs past the elevators. He tried to calm himself down.

  “The stairs will take us down to the generator levels,” Ben said. “That’s where I’m guessing we’ll find the bad guys if they’re here, so look alive.”

  Ben opened the door to the stairs and started the descent. They kept the door propped open to allow some of the light from the outside, but after descending five flights of stairs, the light was swallowed up by the darkness.

  Ben moved forward carefully in the pitch black, knowing one wrong move could send him tumbling down the stairs. Even if he only broke an arm or leg, without the proper medical equipment, a break here could be deadly. Because of that, slow and steady won the race.

  Ben maintained his alertness on the way down, listening for any sign that they weren’t alone. But he heard nothing.

  When they finally reached the ground level, Ben felt along the walls in the darkness until he found the door, and then continued in the pitch black.

  A narrow tunnel connected the staircase to the turbine room, and Ben led them through slowly. Eventually, the tunnel lightened by the air vents that kept the airflow moving.

  And in the dim light of the tunnel, Ben saw what he feared: an explosive device.

  The C-4 was armed with the detonators and a timer. According to the device, there were twenty minutes left.

  “Shit,” Marty said.

  Ben placed his finger to his lips, hushing Marty, and then continued forward. Along the way, he spied more bricks of C-4 stuck to the walls, all of them with individual timers. It was enough to bury all of them in a rocky tomb.

  Eventually, the tunnel led them to the turbine room where the dam produced its electricity, and the space opened up to a very large area. The ceilings stretched ten stories high, the walls solid concrete. None of the machinery was currently operational, but Ben spied more explosive devices. But he wasn’t sure if the enemy who planted them was still here.

  Ben motioned the others close. “Look alive. I don’t know how many of them might be here.”

  Marty and Jeff nodded, and they continued across the floor.

  The trio weaved between the equipment, searching for the person responsible for the explosives, and Ben paused when he heard someone working.

  Ben held up his hand and stopped their progression forward. He waited, making sure he hadn’t imagined the sound, and when he heard more, he pressed forward.

  Ben knew this was it, and his nerves grew wilder the closer they moved toward the sound. The environment was the best for a gunfight; the close quarters would make it difficult to be accurate with the rifle, so he switched to his pistol.

  There wasn’t much cover that surrounded them, so if they couldn’t end the fight quickly, then the casualty rate would be high. The last thing Ben wanted was to return home without Jeff and Marty and have to look their wives in the face and explain to them why he had returned home alone.

  But after everything Ben had gone through, after everything he experienced, he refused to die here. He had fought too hard and sacrificed too much. He was going home no matter what.

  The noises grew louder, and Ben tensed. He expected to find a dozen armed men setting the charges along the walls, and despite his good intentions, his life would end in a quick string of bullets, and that would be it.

  But when Ben turned the next corner, and he saw the terrorist who was waiting for him on the other side, he paused, shocked at what he found.

  One man, with his back turned, was placing another brick of C-4 onto the wall. His movement was careful and precise, and Ben almost laughed at the sight of him, but he knew this was going to be their one chance at getting it right.

  The last thing Ben wanted was to allow the enemy to blow himself up along with Ben and the rest of them while taking down the dam.

  Ben motioned for Jeff and Marty to follow, and he moved toward the terrorist, making sure he remained quiet. If he did it right, he really might be able to pull this off without firing a shot.

  The terrorist was unarmed, save for the explosive, and before the man realized they surrounded him, it was too late.

  “Don’t,” Ben said, touching the end of his pistol to the back of the man’s head.

  The terrorist slowly raised his arms, which were now empty, the C-4 attached to the wall.

  Ben spied some zip ties in the man’s workbag and motioned for Jeff to grab them. He then pinned the man’s arms behind his back, and once he was secure, they spun him around.

  “You,” Ben said, squinting in the poor lighting. “You’re the man from the woods.”

  Ben would have recognized that man’s face anywhere. It was the same terrorist who had taken his boys hostage and then let them go, unharmed.

  “You know this guy?” Marty asked.

  “I ran into him on my way out of Asheville,” Ben answered.

  “Do we kill him?” Jeff asked.

  The terrorist said nothing and didn’t even flinch at the mention of his death.

  “Ben!” Marty said, snapping Ben out of his stupor. “What the hell do we do!”

  Ben stepped closer to the terrorist. He was an American, so Ben knew the guy spoke English. “How many of you are here?”

  The man remained quiet.

  Ben leaned closer, getting a better look at the guy. Scruff and sweat covered his face. He smelled horrible, as though he hadn’t showered in weeks. It was a pungent smell, and Ben wrinkled his nose as he got close.

  “Are you alone?” Ben asked.

  No answer.

  Ben pressed the pistol against the terrorist’s forehead. “I’m not in the mood for games. You tell me what the hell you’re doing, who you’re doing it with, right now!”

  Still, he remained silent.

  “Just shoot him, and let’s get the hell out of here!” Marty said.

  “We still need to take the explosives down,” Jeff said.

  “Shit!” Marty tensed. “Ben, we need to get moving.”

  Ben doubted the terrorist was going to talk. The
pistol against his forehead didn’t faze him at all, though Ben didn’t have much experience in intimidation. And while Ben wanted to pull the trigger, the fact that this man had let his boys go when he could have killed them made him pause.

  Ben lowered the weapon. The terrorist smiled.

  “You live here?” Ben asked.

  Ben saw the question threw the guy off guard, and Ben pressed forward, wanting to extract some kind of information from him.

  “What part of town?” Ben asked.

  The terrorist twisted his mouth and grew visibly angry. Ben had struck a nerve, but he didn’t know why the man was so upset. Ben crouched to a knee, lowering himself to the terrorist’s level. He studied his eyes, searching for any hint of seeing him in town, or on the street, but he didn’t recognize him.

  “I grew up here, you know,” Ben said. “Lived here all my life.”

  “I know who you are,” he said, locking eyes with Ben.

  Ben raised his eyebrows. “You do?”

  The terrorist nodded and then leaned closer. “You’re a man who’s out of his element. And you won’t be able to stop what’s coming.”

  Ben tensed, but he didn’t react further. He stood and then motioned for Jeff and Marty to pick him up. “Put him someplace where he won’t be in the way. We need to start taking the explosives down." Ben walked over and examined where the terrorist had been working and found blueprints of the dam on the ground.

  Certain areas of the plans were highlighted, and Ben figured that’s where the other bombs were placed or meant to be.

  “So, how do we do this?” Jeff asked once the terrorist was secured elsewhere.

  “We’ll have to take each one down since each explosive has an individual timer,” Ben said. “We can use the blueprints here to make sure we get them all down. Because if we miss even one—”

  “Right,” Marty said. “I get the picture.”

  Radio static pulled everyone’s attention to the ground, and Ben spied a radio similar to the one he found on the sniper in the city. Ben turned to Marty when he heard the same Farsi language.

  “Can you translate?” Ben asked.

  Marty bunched up his face in concentration as he shook his head. “I’m not one hundred percent sure. I think… something about the mission. I think they want to know how it’s going.”

  “Can you tell them it’s going fine?” Ben asked, realizing the guy’s comrades were probably expecting the dam to blow at some point, and when there was no explosion, it would make sense for them to come and investigate.

  “I can try.” Marty pressed down on the talkie button and then paused for a moment to collect his thoughts, and then he spoke. “Kl shay' ealaa ma yuram huna.” He released the button and then waited for a response.

  None came.

  “What happened?” Ben asked.

  “I don’t know, I thought I told them everything was fine here,” Marty answered, raising his voice to match Ben’s anger. “I’m not fluent! I just know enough to speak to Ali’s parents!”

  Ben turned to the terrorist and then removed the knife from the pinky. “We need to take the explosives down and get out of here before they have a chance to blow it.”

  “And how the hell are we going to do that?” Jeff asked. “Last time I checked, our annual training didn’t cover C-4.”

  “I’ve worked with it before,” Ben said. “I’ll show you.”

  Marty and Jeff exchanged a glance.

  Ben pocketed his knife and then readjusted his grip on his rifle. “Jeff, you’re the better shot. You go back up topside and keep watch.” He handed Marty the radio and then used the one Ben had from the sniper. “We’ll talk on channel five. You see anything, you let us know, all right?”

  Jeff nodded. “So, what happens if I see them starting to come through?”

  Ben glanced in the opposite direction. “You lead them down here. We’ll have a good shot at overwhelming them in the darkness, and we can always retreat out the other side if things get too hairy. But right now, the main concern is getting these explosives down. If the dam blows, nothing else will matter.”

  23

  N ancy had laid on the cot for a long time. She stared at the knife, studying the edge of the blade until its metallic image imprinted on her brain. She had seen how people killed themselves in the movies and on television shows, but she didn’t know if that was a realistic portrayal.

  Nancy had never had any suicidal thoughts before in her life. Sure, she had been depressed and anxious, but never going so far as to entertain thoughts of ending it all.

  Looking back on her week, even just a few days ago, it seemed silly all of the things she had managed to get upset about. Her mother had always told her she didn’t understand the real world, that she had no idea how good she really had it.

  Nancy had always thought that her mother was just saying those things because she was old and mean and spiteful. But now she understood the truth behind the nasty comments. Nancy really didn’t understand what the world was like.

  Because how could a world just let her parents die on the same day? What kind of world would just catch fire and take away everything she knew and the only family she had ever known?

  The two people who were supposed to take care of her were now gone. So what was she going to do? Just try to latch onto the Rikers? They had their own problems, and when push came to shove, she knew they would choose their family over her. It was just the way things were.

  Of course, there was Gray, who Nancy had no idea of his condition. He had gotten shot, and he was dying, and she couldn’t even be with him.

  Gray had been the person Nancy had been comfortable in confiding in her life. Despite what her parents had said about his family, Gray really was different from the others. He was kind and smart, and he never pushed her to do anything she didn’t want to do.

  Unlike the rest of her friends, Nancy still hadn’t lost her virginity. She had planned on losing it to Gray, but now it was the furthest thing from her mind. The only thing that concerned her right now was the blade in her hand and what it would mean to use it.

  Nancy had never been religious. No one in her family was religious. She didn’t believe in an afterlife or heaven or hell. She thought she had time on this planet, and then when it was over, it was done.

  But thinking about no longer existing, no longer living, was strange. She had never contemplated death, but the past twelve hours had seen her think about and see more death than she had ever noticed in her entire life.

  Was it cold? What happened when everything went black? What did it mean to no longer have consciousness and to drift away?

  Nancy twirled the knife over in her hands, considering the answers to those questions, and wondering if her will was strong enough to see it through.

  Nancy sat up in the bed and glanced toward the open door. She knew that if she was going to end her life, then she didn’t want to do it in some smelly bunker in the dark.

  Outside, Nancy found a tree toward the back of the property, away from everyone else. She heard the children playing and laughing, and the adults talking. It sounded like everyone was doing well, despite the circumstances, but kids always had a way to forget their troubles. They weren’t concerned about anything other than the moment.

  Nancy envied that innocence. She wished she could go back in time and be a child through all of this and have the blind assurance that her parents would keep her safe. But her parents were gone. And she was here. And that was the way of the world.

  Nancy reached the tree and then sat on the other side, keeping the thick oak’s trunk between herself and the rest of the compound. The tree was massive, with dozens of thick branches twisting up and out of the top.

  It was a good climbing tree. Nancy had one in their backyard before they moved to their latest house, and she remembered climbing up into it whenever she wanted to escape the bickering between her parents.

  When she was little, Nancy never understood what her par
ents argued about, but when they finally stopped arguing, they also stopped speaking. When the bickering ended, a part of Nancy wanted it to return, just so the house wasn’t so quiet. It was so quiet it was deafening. And she couldn’t stand the apathy in the air. It was like the two had just decided to tolerate one another because neither were strong enough to be on their own.

  Nancy had told herself that she would never marry someone for money or security or wealth. That was how her mother had viewed life. Nancy wanted someone that she could talk to, someone that could be more than just a husband. She wanted someone that could be a friend.

  She thought Gray could be like that.

  Gray always listened. And not just in the way that most boys listened because all they wanted to do was see her naked but in a way that showed understanding. It was one of the things she liked about him most.

  Nancy stared at the knife again, and a breeze drifted by and rustled the branches and leaves of the big oak. It provided a good amount of shade, and it was much cooler out here than in the stuffy box she had been sleeping in.

  She wondered if Gray was still alive. She wondered if she would ever see him again. And then she wondered if the two of them could meet in some type of afterlife, it any existed. She thought of Romeo and Juliet, and how she thought it was the dumbest play ever when she had to read it in English class last semester.

  But now Nancy believed she understood the story a little better than before when she had first read it, and maybe it wasn’t as stupid as it seemed. She thought about how the two families had torn themselves apart, and for what purpose? Because of a feud that had started years ago, before any of the current characters were involved?

  Nancy saw the parallels in her own family and Gray’s family. The pair hated each other because each were too selfish to recognize that they were hurting one another.

  The longer Nancy stared at the blade, the louder her mother’s voice grew in her mind. All of the hateful things that she had said, all of the truth she had wanted to speak but had always held back, now coming out raw and unfiltered.

  Nancy had never known her mother had hated her so much; she never knew how much she had resented Nancy as a daughter, as a person. It was like her mother had never even loved her at all, and Nancy still heard her mother’s accusations of her father’s death loud and clear.

 

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