Powerless (EMP Survival Book 1)

by Emily Garnet

  After what seemed like forever, the boys led him to a set of steps. He had some trouble stumbling up those, almost knocking all three of them down at one point, but David and Dean dug in, keeping him steady until he could manage the last two steps with their help.

  Matt was vaguely aware of them entering an apartment, and he was glad it was on the ground floor, because he didn’t think he could handle more stairs right then. He leaned heavily against Dean for a moment as David opened the door, and then David was back supporting his other side, and they shuffled him into the apartment.

  He heard the door close behind them, and Dean paused to engage what had to have been at least four locks. Did that mean they were in a bad neighborhood, or was that just commonplace for a city like Vegas? He didn’t know, and he couldn’t focus enough to worry if the neighbors were going to break in and rob them.

  David and Dean maneuvered him to a chair, and he collapsed heavily into it.

  “I’m to get the first-aid kit. Why don’t you go get an ice pack out of the freezer, David?” Dean was all business. “It might still be cold since we haven’t opened the fridge or freezer.” Then he addressed Matt. “Just sit here, Mr. Cromwell.”

  “Matt,” he said as he managed to focus on the kid for a moment. His vision was blurry, and he was seeing almost double Deans, but he could make out enough to tell the kid was black, with close-cropped black curls, and earnest dark-brown eyes. He was clearly genuinely concerned for Matt. Matt managed a small smile.

  He must’ve drifted back toward unconsciousness, because a sudden stinging jolted him awake, and he cursed as he became more alert. “What the…?”

  “Sorry, but I had to clean it. Iodine stings.” Dean sounded brusque as he shared that, maybe thinking Matt was overreacting.

  Matt couldn’t agree, since it felt like shards of glass had been shoved into his head, but at least it had served to make him more focused. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m cleaning it out and trying to determine if you need stitches.”

  Matt’s eyes widened. “You’re not stitching my head.”

  “I totally could if I had to, man. My mom’s an EMT, and she’s taught me a few things. She thinks it’s a good idea to be prepared.”

  Matt held still as the kid continued cleaning, and it felt like he was rubbing a brick over the abrasion on the back of his skull. “Do you have any painkiller?”

  “You can have some in a minute, when your stomach settles. Right now, you’ll just throw it all up. If I need to do stitches, I’ll give you some lidocaine.”

  “Thanks,” said Matt only slightly sarcastically through gritted teeth. If the kid knew what he was doing, that was great, but his bedside manner wasn’t the best.

  “I really can’t tell if it needs stitches. I’m just going to butterfly bandage it for now, and Mom can take a look when she gets home after her shift.”

  “What about your dad?” asked Matt, barely biting back a moan as the kid pushed the gash together and secured it with butterfly bandages. He hadn’t bothered to shave the hair around it, so Matt could imagine just how bad it was going to hurt when those bandages came off.

  “He lives in Houston. He and Mom divorced a few years ago.” David offered those words as he handed Matt a glass of water. “See if you can hold some of this down before we give you ibuprofen.”

  Matt sipped it. “Houston’s pretty far away from here.”

  “He got a good job there. He couldn’t handle Mom’s job.”

  “As an EMT?” asked Matt.

  “No, as a cop. Mom is a certified EMT, but she’s also a cop.” Dean handed him a couple of ibuprofen. “Only take those if you think you can handle it.”

  Matt evaluated his stomach, deciding the water was going to settle before placing two of the capsules on his tongue and swallowing. He wanted to drink greedily from the water, since he was dehydrated, but he forced himself to go slowly. He didn’t need to vomit again.

  “And she has a gun,” said Dean with a hint of warning.

  “So do I,” said Matt without thought. His voice wasn’t as slurred now. He realized immediately he’d scared the boys by the way they tensed. He lifted his hands, one holding the glass of water, and nodded down at his holster. “One of you can take it if it makes you feel better. I’m not going to hurt you though. I was just letting you know.”

  After a moment, Dean reached over to remove the gun. He handled it gingerly, but with enough confidence to suggest he had some firearms training. That made sense if his mother was a police officer. He laid it on the table nearby, not too far out of Matt’s reach. Matt didn’t go for it though, since he had no ill intentions. These two had helped him, and the last thing he’d want to do was hurt either of them.

  After they had him patched up, and David had placed an ice pack on his head that he had to hold there, he leaned back in the chair and must have fallen asleep again. The next thing he saw was an angry black woman standing over him with her hand on her duty belt, clearly within easy reach of her revolver.

  “Who are you, and why are you in my house?”

  “David and Dean helped me.” He managed to get out the words, pleased that he didn’t sound nearly as drunken as he had earlier. It was easier to focus too, and she was only a little blurry around the edges. He didn’t know how long he’d been asleep, but he hoped it hadn’t been too long. “I need your help.”

  She put her hands on her hips, glaring down at him. “You have a lot of nerve. For all I know, you stumbled in here drunk off your ass.” She looked around. “Where are my boys?”

  Matt’s mouth dropped open. He hadn’t imagined this scenario, where he had to face Mother, the police officer, alone. “I don’t know. They were here when I passed out.”

  “So, you have been drinking?” She barked the words at him.

  He shook his head, and then groaned as it caused renewed pain to arc through his head. “I was attacked, and the boys found me. David brought me an ice pack and ibuprofen, and Dean cleaned the wound.” He leaned forward gingerly, trying to move slowly when she reached for her gun. “Easy. I’m just showing you the wound.” He kept his arms out, which made it awkward to lean forward, but he was able to enough where he thought she could see the cut on his head.

  “You bled all over my upholstery.” She sounded tough. “You just stay there and don’t move until I find my sons.”

  Matt tried to jerk away out of habit when she grabbed his arm, but her firm grasp forced him to hold still. He felt steel snaking around his wrist a moment later, and the cuff fastened. Then she fastened it to the leg of the table nearby. Maybe he could stand up and drag it with him if he needed to, but he was still feeling weak. That, and he had no pressing reason to escape, at least not yet.

  He sat and waited, forced to be in an awkward angle. Even that didn’t detract from his need to sleep, and he must’ve dozed off again, because the next thing he heard was David and Dean talking quietly, and their mother sounding far more relaxed. He lifted his head and opened his eyes, realizing he was slumped against the chair again. The handcuff was off his wrist, so his story must’ve checked out. “Where were you guys?” he asked the boys.

  “We went next door to check on Mrs. Collins. She’s an older lady, and she’s on oxygen.” David looked haunted.

  Dean reached over and clapped him on the shoulder gently. “We couldn’t have helped her either way, even if we’d known sooner.”

  Matt closed his eyes for a moment, able to infer what the boys had discovered. Without her oxygen machine pumping, the old woman surely would’ve died. There were probably countless other people who’d had the same end this night. “I’m sorry, guys.”

  His gaze moved to their mother, who sat on a kitchen chair, but it was turned backward, and her arms were propped on the back. She straddled the chair as she eyed him with a remnant of suspicion. Still, her smile seemed genuine enough when she bothered to share it a moment later. “Your story checked out. My boys tell me your friend was kid
napped. Is that right, Mr. Cromwell?”

  “Call me Matt.” His mouth was dry, and he had to take a moment to swallow so he could find the words. “He saved us from an angry mob, but I’m not sure what happened beyond that. Ivy was anxious to get out of the truck, and I didn’t know why, but I went with her lead. I got out of the truck as he came up behind me and hit me with something hard. I think maybe it was a tool of some sort, since he had a toolbox in his truck. That’s all I remember, but I’m sure he took Ivy. He seemed like a big admirer of hers.”

  “What do you remember about the truck or the person?” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a leather-bound notebook and a pen.

  “His name is Kenny, and he owns a pawnshop. I don’t remember the street or even the name of the shop now. I think the receipt is in Ivy’s backpack anyway, and mine was stolen, along with a couple of guns.” At that word, his gaze darted to the table.

  She didn’t even look up. “The gun’s somewhere for safekeeping. When you leave, you can have it back.”

  “Thank you, Officer…”

  “Jolene Haskins. Under the circumstances, you may call me Jolene. So, Kenny, who runs a pawnshop. What does he look like?”

  “He was a big man, but not really muscular. More like flabby. He had a neatly trimmed beard and short black hair.” Matt closed his eyes, trying to think of any further details, but the harder he tried to concentrate, the more his head hurt. Finally, with a sigh, he opened his eyes again and said, “That’s all I remember about him. That, and he was wearing a plaid shirt and jeans.”

  She jotted down those details before asking about the truck. Matt described it the best he could, and he was startled to realize he remembered a few letters from the license plate. He must’ve gotten a good glimpse of it as he fell.

  “I’ll get on the radio and call this in. Some of the communications are still working.”

  “What about vehicles, like cars and firetrucks?”

  Jolene hesitated in the process of reaching for her radio. “Hit or miss. We have some of the older vehicles that are running just fine, but it seems like the more complicated the machine, the less likely it is to work. All the new vehicles are disabled. When I got off shift to come home and check on my boys, they were talking about requisitioning bikes from the bike shops around here, and a few had even floated the idea of bringing back mounted patrol. Of course, they had no clue how they were going to get horses in the middle of Vegas.” She let out a rich laugh before reaching for her radio.

  Matt fell into silence, just like the boys, so Jolene could have a conversation with dispatch. When she ended the conversation a few minutes later, she wrote down an address. “I have the address.”

  “I have to go get Ivy.”

  Jolene frowned at him. “You’re in no shape to go get anyone, Mr. Cromwell.”

  He firmed his shoulders and tried to stay fully upright. It was a chore, but not as hard as it had been last time he’d been awake. “I’m going to get her out of there. You can’t stop me.”

  She shook her head, but then she sighed. “I sure can’t let you go in alone as a civilian. I’ll have to come with you.”

  “No, you can’t, Mom,” said Dean.

  “You haven’t healed long enough yet,” said David.

  “Healed?” asked Matt.

  Jolene patted her stomach gently. “I’m technically on medical leave for a gunshot wound last month, but I checked in at the station when I got the all-hands call. They sent me home, since I’m not medically cleared for duty yet, so here we are.”

  “How did they call you?”

  She gave him a look that suggested she found the question dumb. “On the radio that I just used.”

  “I mean, how is it working?” He reached into his pocket to pull out his phone, bringing it out to show her reflexively. “Ivy said the phones will only work until the generators on the cell towers go down.”

  “I’m sure it’s the same for the station. We have a fancy generator system that runs on diesel, and it can keep power going for at least three months as long as the tank’s full, and they’ve kept reserves on hand. Whether or not that’s happened, who can say? We’ve been under budget cuts, but it’s functioning for now.”

  “Can you call for backup?”

  Jolene hesitated. “Not officially. Let’s just say that since I’m on medical leave, they wouldn’t sanction me helping you to start with, and it could take hours before anyone is free to follow up. If I call for backup for a mission I’m not supposed to be on…” She trailed off.

  Matt realized she was risking her career and her health to help him. He wanted to be noble and tell her he could handle it by himself, but he wasn’t confident he could. Even if he was in top shape and without the head injury, he didn’t know if he could take on an assailant who was holding Ivy prisoner. Physically fighting wasn’t his wheelhouse. “I appreciate your help then, especially with all the obstacles in your way. When can we get her?”

  “As soon as you’re able to stand up and can fire your weapon without seeing double, Matt.” She seemed to stumble over his first name for a minute, and he imagined she didn’t like to use first names or get familiar with people. She must have to maintain a certain amount of distance between herself and the people she served on a daily basis.

  Gingerly, he stood up. The room rotated a little bit, but he was able to stand completely on his own. “Well, I’m up. Let’s try a few steps.” He moved cautiously, trying to steer clear of any furniture in case he fell. He didn’t want to break any of their possessions, especially after he’d already bled all over the chair.

  He was a little woozy, but by the third or fourth step, he’d found his groove. He was able to walk and move around with only a wave of dizziness every now and then. “I think I can do this.” He had to, because every moment he delayed was another moment Ivy was at the mercy of her kidnapper.

  Chapter Seven

  A dull throbbing in her throat woke Ivy. There was a moment of confusion as to where she was, and why her throat hurt so badly. When she lifted her hand, planning to rub her throat, pain jolted through her arms, and she had limited mobility. She looked down, shocked to find herself tied to a chair. When she looked up, Kenny was hovering far too close. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m taking care of you.” He gave her a friendly smile. “I’m going to be really good to you.”

  She glared at him. “Untie me this minute.” Her eyes widened as she remembered him hitting Matt with a tire iron. “You killed Matt.”

  He looked a little pale. “I don’t think I did. I didn’t check his pulse, but I didn’t hit him hard enough to kill him. I’m sure of it.” He seemed to be trying to project confidence, but there was clearly an air of uncertainty about him.

  She struggled against the ropes. “Why would you do that? What would you do all this? What’s wrong with you?”

  He flinched. “There’s nothing wrong with me. Stop saying that. The doctor was wrong and so was my mom. I’m perfectly fine.” Upon seeing her flinch backward, his tone gentled. “I just want to help you. Things are going to get rough if you’re right, and you’re going to need someone to look out for you.”

  “I can look out for myself. I don’t need a stalking kidnapper to do it for me. Now let me go.”

  He looked like he was on the verge of tears. “Please be nicer to me. I want us to be friends.”

  She glowered at him. “I can well imagine what you want, and I guarantee you now it’s never going to happen. The idea of your filthy hands on me makes me want to vomit.”

  He flinched. “You don’t have to be like this.”

  “Yeah, I do. You kidnapped me, and you might’ve killed my best friend. If I needed anyone to rely on, it was Matt, not you. I don’t know what you expect to happen here, but you’re—” The smack of his hand against her face shocked her into silence. Her cheeks stung where he’d hit her, but it was more surprise from him hitting her than actual pain that robbed her of words for a mom
ent.

  Before she could find them again, he removed a handkerchief from his pocket. She could tell his intent even before he brought it closer to her mouth. She slammed shut her lips and shook her head, trying to evade his touch. When he grabbed hold of her hair and jerked back her head, she still kept her teeth clenched tightly and her lips closed as long as she could.

  When he jammed his finger into her mouth, it caused her teeth to unclench, and she tried to slam them down to bite him, but he was faster than she was, cramming the sweaty cloth into her mouth. She almost vomited right then as a gag rose up her throat.

  “Don’t vomit. I don’t want you to asphyxiate.” His voice was tender now, and he patted her face where he’d just slapped her. “You don’t have to be so unpleasant. I know it’s an adjustment, but you’re going to be fine. We’re going to get along great. Do you know how many times I’ve seen you in concert?”

  She gave him a stony glare. That was her only response besides a shake or a nod, and she didn’t intend to do either one of those.

  “I’ve seen you sixteen times altogether. I drive to lots of out-of-town places to see you, and then every time you’re in Vegas, I see you. I saw you twice this week already, and I had tickets for tomorrow night’s show. Since it was your last one here, so I wanted to say a personal bye until I got to see you again in Boise, Idaho. I was hoping to get backstage passes.” As he spoke, he stroked her hair.

  She couldn’t hide a shudder of repulsion at his touch, and he heaved a heavy sigh. “I know this is different for you, but I really have your welfare in mind. I know I can protect you. I love you so much, so how could I not? I’d die for you.”

  The intensity in his voice sent a chill up her spine. She knew he might’ve already killed for her, and she suspected she was dealing with far more than just an overeager superfan with bad judgment. Kenny was clearly unhinged. He seemed like he’d been stalking her for a while, and no wonder he’d acted on it when she practically fell into his lap. Of all the bad luck.