Hostile Grounds: An EMP Survival Story (EMP Crash Book 5)

by Kip Nelson

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  “You? Why are you just standing there? I told you to watch these people closely! You can't give them an inch because they'll take a mile. We can't trust them and you need to be on your guard. You don't want to be the reason this whole plan fails, do you?” Peter asked one of the other children with a sneer. He was doing his rounds throughout the camp and finding fault with almost everything the other Lost Children were doing. Nothing was good enough for him, and they had all done something wrong.

  “You know,” he said after he had checked in with a few people, “I really thought things would be different. I thought I could trust you with these assignments, but maybe my faith was misplaced. I had a big dream for this world. I assumed you all shared that dream with me but, apparently, you're all content to be lazy and not bother doing your jobs properly!”

  He kicked at some nearby debris and watched it scatter across the ground. His voice became high-pitched and his face reddened. The Lost Children hadn't seen him like this on many occasions. The most recent time was when he discovered Tristan had escaped with his mother and Mack, but Peter never had turned his ire onto those he led and it was disconcerting to many of them.

  They shifted their weight between their feet and looked down at the ground, afraid of being singled out by their king. Peter stalked the area around them and his eyes were like daggers, stabbing into their fragile little souls. This all had been a lark, but ever since they had taken over this community Peter had been stricter. Suddenly things didn't seem so fun. It was also different being around adults again. Although they had been subjugated and controlled, the mere sight of them brought fragments of memories back to the surface, memories of love and safety, of warmth and closeness, but those warred with the strict doctrine Peter had made them believe. So they tried pushing away these memories as though they were simply bad dreams. It was easier said than done, especially when Peter was shouting at all of them, unhappy with their work, even though they had been doing their best. He shook his head and clasped his hands behind his back, muttering to himself.

  Sharon stood beside him, still loyal and devoted, but even she flinched when he berated the others. Starting to see his true colors did not sway her feelings for him, but it did make her concerned. She knew events were taking their toll on him, and a kingdom was only as strong as its king. Being older than the others, she could see things and understand things that they could not. She knew Peter was not mad at them, but he was frustrated that Mack still hadn't returned. He had spoken to some of the adults of the community, and they told Peter about how Mack had gone to meet the leader of another camp. It wasn't certain he would return, but Peter was convinced he would. He said he could smell it in the air. Mack was out there, and he was planning something, of that he was sure. Sharon didn't know if Peter was right to be concerned, or if he was showing signs of paranoia.

  When they first took over this community she didn't entirely know what to expect, but it wasn't this. So far, the adults hadn't openly rebelled, but they hadn't been happy about the presence of the Lost Children either. They did their duties, but it was clear they didn't respect Peter's authority, and only were deferring to his rule because he had taken over by force. Sharon was well aware that without the advantage of being children this invasion most likely would have failed at the first hurdle, and this was what troubled Peter the most. She was the closest to him, and knew he wanted the adults to show him respect, and even come around to his way of thinking. When he had been talking passionately to her about his dream, she had been intoxicated by his enthusiasm and silver tongue, but now, in the cold light of day, she could see the truth of the matter. She never would reveal this to Peter, for she was far too scared of the consequences, but it seemed obvious to her that these adults never would follow him willingly and his dream was more of a delusion.

  It was more work to run a community as well. Since Peter wanted to prove to the adults he could do what they did, but better, he was far stricter with duties than he had been previously. Before, the Lost Children had had a lot of freedom and were basically allowed to do as they wanted. Now, however, they all had their tasks and Peter wanted to make sure they all were done impeccably, which mostly wasn't the case. Sharon had seen more than one young child break down in tears after Peter had lectured them, and for all her love for him, she had to admit he wasn't that good at talking to the younger children. A king wasn't just there to lead, he also was there to care for his subjects. Yet, at the moment, it only seemed as though he cared about himself, and the way the adults viewed him.

  “Peter,” she said softly, reaching out a hand to him. He turned and glowered at her. The look in his eyes made fear trickle down her spine. Before she could say anything else, he ordered her to go see the prisoner. By his demeanor, she knew it was no use to try arguing, or shifting his mind from the gloom that had seized it. She sighed and turned away, offering a sympathetic smile to those children Peter had been shouting at.

  Sharon went by the food storage and asked for a few pieces of fruit for the prisoner, knowing Peter wouldn't like that she had fed him a feast. As she walked through the settlement, she could feel the eyes of the adults upon her. She held her head high, trying to ignore them. She knew they hated her, and blamed her for all this. They saw her as the one who had betrayed them all. Their conversations hushed when she drew near, and rose again as she passed. They were polite to her, but that was all, and Sharon found herself to be quite lonely. Peter had been getting more and more distant, and he rarely was affectionate toward her anymore. There were times when she almost missed Tristan. While she had feigned her attraction toward him, there was something to be said for having someone there who actually was devoted to you, and he had been good company. It certainly was different than Peter at least.

  At first, she had been behind him completely and thought he could do no wrong, but as time had gone by, he had made some decisions she had found questionable, one of them being making a prisoner of Hank. At first, Peter had tried debating Hank in matters of faith and philosophy, but Hank wouldn't stop preaching what he wanted and stood up to Peter when the young king demanded Hank convince people to follow him. Sharon was surprised Peter didn't kill him on the spot, but he said he wanted to break the preacher and convince him to come around. There was no use killing people every time they disagreed with him, Peter said, but Sharon thought it had been too long now. The preacher always had seemed like a reasonable person to her, and she didn't enjoy seeing him tortured like this.

  She walked up to City Hall, where the box was kept. It was slightly shorter than a coffin, but taller, so the preacher was forced to curl his body up to fit inside. There were small holes to allow air to pass and the weather still had a warm breeze outside. The heat must have been stifling in there. Hank had been in there for a few days and only was allowed out once a day for a few minutes to stretch his muscles and relieve himself. It was on these occasions when Peter offered him the chance to pledge his loyalty but, as yet, Hank had done no such thing, and this was another reason for Peter's bad mood. There was a Lost Child guarding the prisoner at all times, just in case anyone tried rescuing him, and the rule was that nobody was allowed to talk to Hank. Sharon nodded to the guard and went up to the box and crouched down.

  “I have some food for you,” she said, and fed the pieces of fruit through the box one at a time.

  Through the openings, she could see the preacher's dark face glistening with beads of sweat. The whites of his eyes seemed to glow, and his breathing was haggard. It filled her with shame to be that close. As soon as the last piece of fruit had left her hands she turned away to leave him behind, to try ignoring the grim reality of which she was a part. However, Hank called out to her in a voice that was barely a whisper.

  “Stay,” he pleaded. Sharon turned around and saw the tips of his fingers clinging to the holes in the box, trying to form some connection with the outside world.

  “I'm not supposed to,” she said, glan
cing back at the guard, aware that if Peter found out there would be trouble ahead.

  “Take pity on an old man. I'd just like someone to talk to, even for a few minutes,” Hank said.

  Sharon felt his words tug at his heart, and she nodded, saying that she would be back in a second. She walked up to the guard and told him to take a break for a few moments, that he had been doing a good job and deserved a chance to get a snack. Without hesitation, he strutted off and said he would be back soon. Sharon watched him go and then turned back to the box.

  “So, what would you like to talk about?” she asked.

  “Is there anything on your mind?” he said as he crunched into an apple. Sharon's eyelids flickered as her head tilted to the side, but she declined to answer. Hank made a noise.

  “Then indulge me for a little while as I preach. You know, eating this apple reminds me of the story of Eden, which I'm sure you're familiar with.” Sharon nodded and looked around worriedly, afraid Peter would discover her there.

  “That fruit was going to be the tastiest thing in the world, the serpent promised them that, but sometimes the things that seem most beautiful actually are rotten at the core. Sometimes we're promised things and they seem so good when we dream about them, but the reality is not the same. When that dream becomes real we start seeing people as they truly are, and sometimes they are not as beautiful as we once thought. But then the question becomes; was the promise ever beautiful, or was it just our perception of it?”

  “I should go...” Sharon said, and at that moment the guard came back with a satisfied look on his face.

  “Think about it, child,” the preacher said, and Sharon wished she never had talked to him.

  She knew things weren't turning out the way any of them wanted. Life was much simpler when they merely talked about expanding into the city. Now that they had, things had changed dramatically, and Sharon didn't like where they were heading. She knew she had to talk to Peter, but things weren't as simple as that. He was a prideful young man, and didn't take advice from others, especially not when it contradicted something he thought was right. She made her way back to him and found him in solitude, looking up at the sky as the world turned around him.

  “I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier,” he said, taking his eyes off the sky to look at her. He held out his hand to her and drew her in close. “I am just so passionate about forging the world in the image I want that sometimes I lose sight of what is closest to me.”

  “I know,” Sharon said demurely, “but do you think it's the best thing to get angry at the children? They are trying their best, you know. Sometimes I think it would be better to offer some encouragement rather than criticize them.” As soon as the words left her mouth Peter began glowering and she pulled away, frightened. The fear was all over her face, and upon seeing this the anger in Peter subsided.

  “I never want you to be afraid to come to me with these thoughts. You are the queen to my throne and I want you to be able to speak your mind openly. I know I am not perfect, but I will try to be, for you,” he said, and kissed her again. She smiled at him and returned the affection, but she looked at him differently now. When they were together she often found herself thinking of Tristan, and how sad she was that she betrayed him.

  Freddie, Luis, and Saul were in the infirmary. Luis almost had healed completely, and if everything had been right in the community, he would have been put back on light duties. But since the Lost Children were in control, Freddie had lied to them so that he, Luis, and the others had a convenient meeting place.

  “How's Hank doing?” Luis asked. Freddie's face was drawn.

  “Not good. He's been in there too long now. I don't know how long he's going to be able to hold out. He should just be smart and tell Peter what he wants to hear,” Saul said.

  “He won't do that, not Hank,” Freddie said, sighing.

  “What are we going to do? We can't just wait for Mack to return. I feel so helpless here,” Luis said, the anguish plain on his face.

  “I've been trying to talk to some of the children, but they won't listen to me. I want to try thinking of some kind of plan because Mack and the others will be walking into a trap when they come back, but I don't have a mind for these strategic things. I just worry too much. I worry about the children and the lives they are leading. I worry about this settlement. And I worry about Tristan, too. Nobody has heard from him. I'm afraid he might have been killed.”

  “I doubt it,” Saul said gruffly. “That Peter likes to make a show of things. If he killed Tristan, we would have known about it.”

  “Do you have any ideas of what to do?” Luis asked. Saul stroked his long beard and pressed his lips together.

  “I'm trying to think, but Mack was always the clever one. My ideas usually just involve bashing heads together, and that's not going to work here. But I have noticed things getting frayed between them. Maybe that's something we can work with, if we bide our time,” he said.

  Luis laughed a little. “I never thought I'd hear you advocating patience,” he said.

  “People change.” Saul shrugged, and all three of them looked at each other and reflected upon how true that statement was.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Prior to reaching the settlement, Mack told them all to slow down. During the ride they had decided that, as these matters concerned Mack's community most of all, he should take the lead and, for the time being at least, they would defer to him. While having such great numbers was an advantage to them, it was going to make a clandestine approach difficult. Mack called Tristan over and asked him how the Lost Children had entered the settlement, for they were going to do it the same way. He ordered everyone to go through that section of the barrier while he approached from the front, alone, to provide a distraction. Maggie and Grace both protested, claiming that was suicide. Mack smiled wryly, as though he knew both of them would have found something wrong with his plan.

  “I've thought about this a lot, and we're going to need as many people as possible to take back the settlement. I don't want to risk any more lives than mine, and if anything does happen then I want you two alive so you can lead everyone into the future.” Grace gave him a pleading look, almost annoyed that, after all this time together, he wanted to do this by himself, but there was no arguing with him. So, they all prepared to split up. There was much discussion among everyone, for not all of them were convinced this was the best way to go, but Mack assured them he would be alright.

  “I'll create the distraction. Peter thinks he's smarter than me, but I know what he wants. He wants to make an example of me, and show me off to the entire community. He won't do anything to me until everyone is watching. I want you to sneak in and wait until that moment, then come up and reveal yourselves. He won't expect it, and he won't know what to do. You should have weapons to make any of the children think twice about firing at you, but hopefully when they see you, they'll be reminded of everything they were taken away from.”

  “But what if Peter sees us and figures that he may as well kill you? I get that you don't want to put our lives at risk, but we don't want to put your life at risk either,” Grace said. Mack reached out and clasped her hand.

  “I'll take care of myself, you just get these people reunited with their children, and I'll deal with Peter. The king needs to be dethroned,” and with that they all set the plan in motion.

  Tristan led the group with his mother around to the back of the community, making as little noise as possible. Upon seeing it, the new allies they had gained were impressed with what had been built, and the idea of joining them permanently was much more attractive. They were fortunate this area of the settlement was not active, thus they were able to move around the barrier without being noticed. Tristan and Grace sneaked in through the barrier and made their way through the settlement, taking care not to be noticed. It felt strange having to hide in this place that had become a home to them. As they hid behind a building, they had a straight line of sight to Cit
y Hall, and waited patiently for the opportunity to strike. While they waited, they watched people go about their business, looking subdued. Even the children seemed dispirited.

  “Are they always like this?” Grace asked. Tristan shook his head, and he knew that something was wrong.

  Meanwhile, Mack had made his way to the entrance of the community, riding up by himself, holding the reins in one hand as the horse sauntered up. As he approached, he set his face into a grim expression and prepared himself for what was to come. While he had been confident in what he had said to Grace, he wasn't one hundred percent sure that Peter would not execute him on sight. He knew he may very well be riding to his death. However, giving up his life so that others may live wasn't a bad way to die, and he had prepared for that eventuality a long time ago when he first had signed up with the army.

  He rode up the street and as he did so heard the familiar low whistle of the Lost Children echo all around him. It still unsettled him, even though he knew they were waiting for him. At the entrance of the settlement he saw guns being pointed at him, and a few heads poked up over the barrier. The whistling ceased.

  “Stop there,” a shrill voice called out, “the king has been awaiting your return. We would kill you ourselves, but the king wants that glory for himself. Get off your horse and don't make any threatening movements. We'll take you inside. You are our prisoner.”

  If the situation wasn't so serious Mack would have been amused by how they were playing at being soldiers, except this was no game. He was at their mercy and he hoped his plan would work. If it didn't, then they all would be enthralled by their king. The guards came down and escorted him into the settlement, making sure he couldn’t reach any of his weapons. They sneered at him and told him how glad the king was that he had returned. Mack stayed silent, knowing that any words he spoke wouldn't have helped, but these were the children he worried the most about. They had committed fully to this world, and to being soldiers, so to wrest them from this reality and send them back to one where they were subservient to their parents was going to be an ordeal. As he looked at them, he tried to piecing together whose children they were, and although he had his ideas, he did not voice them as now was not the right time.