Surviving the Collapse: A Tale Of Survival In A Powerless World- Book 2

by James Hunt

  Surviving the Collapse: Book 2

  James Hunt

  Copyright 2017 All rights reserved worldwide. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, by any means without prior written permission, except for brief excerpts in reviews or analysis.

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  Contents

  Surviving the Collapse: The Beginning

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13 (Six months later)

  About the Author

  Surviving the Collapse: The Beginning

  Download the FREE Prequel on Amazon- Click Here

  Captain Kate Holloway moved her family to New York to start over, and break the barriers that her work had created. But when an EMP brings New York to its knees, Kate must fight to survive amid the terror descending upon the city and rescue her family.

  Download the FREE Prequel on Amazon- Click Here

  1

  Morning had arrived three hours earlier, and the sun shone brightly on the picturesque ski village below. Pitched snow-covered roofs of cabins and small inns dotted the main street with a few shops sprinkled between.

  The highway that fed into the small town was clogged with broken-down vehicles buried beneath the blizzard that had blown through the day before. Only roofs and antennas protruded through the snow. The cars were abandoned without a second thought as people fled, seeking the safety and refuge of shelter.

  Dennis Smith stood on a ridge that over looked the town. Frost and blood covered his face, mixing to produce a shimmering red beneath the sun. On either side of him stretched fifteen men, all of them armed, all of them sporting the same frosty red glower.

  Tongues ran over cracked lips, appetites eager for the taste of chaos and death. Adrenaline pulsed wildly through their veins. They turned toward Dennis. They waited for him. The man who had brought them here, the man who had quenched their thirst for blood and women and booze. There was more of it down there, just waiting for someone strong enough to take it.

  A cold, stiff wind blew from behind them, casting their scent toward the unsuspecting victims below. They were nothing more than sheep ready for slaughter. The wolves had arrived. The wolves were hungry. The breeze died. Dennis nodded.

  The escaped inmates swarmed the town like locusts. Houses were searched, one by one, people cowering and hiding beneath beds and in closets. No one was spared, and no one was left behind. Rebellion was dealt with swiftly, the remnants of defiance staining the white snow with crimson.

  Wives and children cried as they passed their slain husbands and fathers, shoved along by men who laughed and howled and reveled in their pain. Dennis smiled from his perch on the ridge.

  Mulls, Dennis’s right-hand man, ascended the ridge when it was finished. His gut hung over the belt at his waist, and he puffed labored breaths as he crested the top, icy clouds spitting from his mouth like dragon’s breath. “We’ve rounded all of them up.” He gestured to the bodies and bloodstained patches below. “They don’t have a town hall like the others, but one of the inns has a big lobby. That’s where we put them.”

  Dennis kept his gaze fixed on the town below. He waited for the inevitable. Movement flickered in his left peripheral. Five people sprinted from the back of a house, weaving through the thick snow beneath the cover of trees. “Not all of them.” He turned his dark eyes on Mulls, and with a flick of his head, he gestured toward the fleeing townspeople. “Bring them back.”

  “Shit.” Mulls hurried back down the ridge, triggering small avalanches on his descent.

  Dennis knelt in the snow and reached inside his jacket. He removed the folded map that detailed their small section of upstate New York, and smoothed out the creases over the snow.

  The map revealed six small towns within twenty square miles. Two of them had Xs crossed over them. Dennis reached into his pocket and removed a black marker, plucked the cap off, added a third X to the map, and smiled.

  A square box stood out among the circles, and Dennis stared at it for a half second longer than the other marks on the map. It was a highway patrol station, and it represented the one obstacle and hazard that could upend all of Dennis’s work. He needed to wipe those pigs off the map before they decided to organize. But he wanted to make sure he had a good foothold in the area before that happened. Their time would come. And he would kill them all.

  With the same care with which someone would handle an infant, Dennis refolded the map, paying attention to the original creases, and returned the compacted little square inside his jacket along with the pen. He stood, wiping the snow from his knees, and then descended the hill.

  Broken glass and blood littered the snow along Main Street. Dennis passed the open front doors of businesses, houses, and hotels. He maintained a leisurely pace, hands folded behind his back. He’d enjoyed taking his time outdoors since his escape from prison. For eighteen years, he was held to a regimented schedule. He had his own schedule now. He was in charge. He was the warden.

  Dennis veered toward the middle of the street, and his boots sank into the red slush that circled the dead. Limbs and heads extended from the mound of corpses, and he stopped to examine the bulbous nose of a man near the bottom. Dennis stared into the pair of lifeless eyes and slowly touched the tip of the deceased’s enormous beak. He smiled, chuckling to himself, and then proceeded toward the inn.

  Inside the lobby Dennis saw the group of men, women, and children that shivered on their knees, heads down. Quiet sobs and whispers of reassurance between loved ones drifted from the huddled prisoners.

  “Good morning.” Dennis smiled widely, his tone cordial. He tracked bloody boot prints inside as he circled the cowering cluster. “I know you’re scared. I know you’re confused.” Faces remained tilted down as he slowly circled, his steps rhythmic and hypnotic. “You don’t know why the power is off. You don’t know why your phones aren’t working, and you don’t know why there has been no one to come and help you.”

  Dennis stopped, the sound of his steps replaced by those quiet sobs and nervous breaths. He spread his arms wide and smiled, exposing his yellowed teeth. “You’re safe now.” He spoke with a warm, soothing tone, his eyes scanning the group in search of the ones he’d seen at the hospital who’d killed two of his men. Billy and Martin’s attempt to track them after the storm had passed had failed. And the fact that there were people out there who could escape him drove that little bug inside of his head mad. “The worst is over, so long as everyone here does exactly as they’re told.” His gaze focused on a middle-aged woman who clutched two young children to her sides. She kept her head down, shivering, but the little boy to her left looked up at Dennis, his expression more curious than afraid. “You just have to follow the rules.” Dennis dropped to one knee and ruffled the little boy’s hair. “You’re good at following rules, aren’t you?”

  The woman shuddered and pulled her boy closer. Dennis grabbed her chin and tilted her face toward his. Tears streaked down her cheeks, her face haggard and fatigued. He dropped his tone an octave, his expression stoic save for a few spasms of anger that erupted in little twitches around his eyes and mouth. “The rules are simple. Do what we say, when we say it.” His eyes drifted toward the little boy. “And no one gets hurt.”

  Jake Stows jogged in through t
he front door, covered in snow up to his waist. He panted and leaned against the wall to keep himself upright, his tongue lolling like a tired dog. “I couldn’t—” Spit rained from his mouth as he coughed. He wiped his mouth, straightening himself out. “The ones that ran off, I couldn’t get them. The snow in the forest is too high.”

  Dennis turned to Mulls on his right. “That’s the man you sent?”

  Mulls nodded.

  Dennis pinched the bridge of his nose, nodding, that bug burrowing through his mind. It tunneled quickly, scrambling reason and control, and Dennis felt his grip on restraint slip. “They escaped?”

  “They ran like fucking rabbits,” Jake answered, triggering a laugh from a few of the men.

  Dennis joined in the laughter then slowly stepped around the huddled mass of the shivering cattle and grabbed hold of Jake’s shoulder. “Like rabbits, huh?” He kept hold of Jake and turned to the group, his laughter growing more hysterical, that bug in his head burrowing faster and faster. Tears squeezed from the corners of his eyes, and he let go of Jake’s shoulder to wipe them away. “Like rabbits!” Another burst of high-pitched squeals escaped his lips, and the laughter of the men faded until it was only Dennis.

  Jake shifted uneasily, and Dennis’s delirium ended.

  “Oh, that’s funny.” Dennis smiled and gave three quick pats on his shoulder. “That’s too bad.”

  One swift motion of the hand, and Dennis aimed his pistol at Jake’s forehead then squeezed.

  Gasps and screams erupted with the gunshot, and Jake’s head jolted backward, blood and bone spraying in a trail due to the bullet’s exit from the back of the skull, and Jake collapsed to the floor.

  Smoke drifted from the end of the pistol’s barrel, and Dennis lowered it to his side. He turned an angry glare to the rest of his men. “We are fucking wolves!” He stomped his foot, his knuckles flashing white against the pistol’s black grip.

  Dennis paced the room, turning his gaze to each and every one of his men until their eyes dropped to the tips of their boots. “If you cannot hunt, then you cannot kill, and if you cannot kill, then you will be killed!” Spittle dripped from Dennis’s mouth and landed on the brown, matted beard that covered his chin and cheeks. He looked back down to the woman with the two children, and the little boy who was staring up at him, wide-eyed, his cheeks white as snow. “Remember that, boy.”

  Dennis ran his hand through his hair, the bug in his head finally resting. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath then exhaled slowly. “Okay.” He opened his eyes, his stature more relaxed. He examined the cowering prisoners and then gestured to his men. “Make it quick.”

  The inmates broke into a frenzy as Dennis stepped over Jake’s body on his exit. Screams and pleas of mercy erupted behind him as the men fought over the prettiest women in the group. Outside, the frigid mountain air cooled the rage. He closed his eyes and lifted his head toward the sky, basking in the howls from his pack and the screams from their victims. He reached for his map. Only three towns left.

  2

  The fresh powder from the blizzard had covered the landscape with a sheet of white that sparkled beneath the sunlight, which made the forest look alive.

  Kate held the shovel but remained motionless as she stared at the mountains on the horizon that climbed high until it looked as though they touched the sky itself. It was one of the most beautiful sights she’d ever seen. But the view had come at a cost.

  She lowered her gaze and saw the two rifles leaning up against a tree trunk, snapping her back to reality. The past three days had been an education for Kate and her family in the harsh realities of their new lives. They had no power, no phones, no transportation. The EMP stole every modern convenience, leaving millions ill prepared to survive the aftermath.

  “Hey!” Rodney shoveled a scoop of snow and added it to the growing pile beside the hole. “C’mon, this is the last one. And we still need to do our water run.” The snow crunched as he scooped another shovelful and tossed it aside.

  Kate wiped the sweat from her brow and then started digging. “Why the hell did you bury all of this stuff?”

  “If something is easy to find, then it’s easy to steal.”

  Kate conceded the point. Rodney had been one of the few who were ready. Up until the EMP, she didn’t even know that Rodney Klatt existed. But over the past few days, he had become the little brother she’d never had. And while he was barely older than her nineteen-year-old son, he carried himself like a man in his forties.

  Twenty minutes later, Kate’s shovel vibrated from a heavy clunk in the ground. “Finally.” Both dropped their shovels and cleared off the frozen soil. When the box was finally unearthed, they stood on either side, each gripping a handle.

  “On three,” Rodney said. “One, two, three!”

  Kate’s muscles drew taut, and her back strained as she lifted the heavy stash. The metal box scraped the side of the hole, and it hit the ground with a thud as Kate and Rodney dropped it. She rotated her shoulder, wincing. “Did you bury rocks?”

  The inside was lined with plastic, and when Rodney peeled away the layers of clear sheets, she saw three letters stamped in large bold letters on matching bags: MRE.

  Kate plucked one from the box and read the back. “Steak and garlic mashed potatoes.” She arched her eyebrows, flashing the pack to Rodney. “Just add water.” She tossed it back with the others as Rodney pulled a piece of paper and a pen from the container’s side.

  “Let’s get an inventory, and then we’ll bring it back to the cabin.”

  With this being the fourth box of supplies they’d dug up, Kate and Rodney fell into their practiced rhythm easily.

  Once finished, Kate and Rodney slung their rifles over their shoulders then picked up the box. None of them went outside without a gun, per Rodney’s request. But Kate didn’t object. She understood the need for weapons now. They had supplies that people would kill to take. And she didn’t plan on leaving her family with nothing.

  The pair kicked their way through the tall drifts of snow, Kate dragging the shovel behind her, the pointed tip cutting a fine line through the soft powder. She lifted her knees high, the pair of snowshoes feeling more like a hindrance than a help.

  “How long will the snow be this deep?” Kate asked.

  “Until spring,” Rodney answered. “The roads are near impassible now unless you’ve got the right gear.” He gestured to their feet. “I know they’re a pain, but it’d be a lot worse without them. Trust me.”

  Kate lifted her foot, and snow smacked her face. “I can’t imagine.”

  The view of the back of the cabin brought with it the harsh whack of wood that echoed from the front and formed a methodical rhythm as Kate rounded the corner and saw Mark near the front porch, his back to the high walls of snow that boxed him into a rectangle-shaped crater.

  Mark stood just over six feet, and the white walls behind him stretched four feet taller. The blizzard had buried the cabin, and they reclaimed it from the snowy earth one shovelful at a time.

  Mark rested the head of the axe on the chopping block, his chest heaving up and down beneath his bulky coat. “I’ve already got two piles done. You said we want at least three per day, right?”

  “Yeah,” Rodney answered. “Three per day for the next four months.”

  Kate bumped Mark’s arm on the way past. “Just don’t chop your hand off.”

  Mark removed his left arm from behind his back. He’d worked his coat sleeve over his hand to make it look like it was amputated. “Too late.”

  Kate snorted and dropped the container of goods they’d carried from their cache. She kicked the snow from the large contraptions around her feet then peeled them off, chucking them in the corner with Rodney’s.

  “We’ll need to match up what we found with my master list,” Rodney said. “It’s in the kitchen pantry. C’mon.” He removed his gloves as he stepped inside, but before Kate followed, she turned back to Mark.

  “Luke come out?�
� she asked.

  “No,” Mark answered, the playfulness gone as he pulled back his sleeve and picked up the axe. “I’ll go and check on him in a minute. You finish up with Rodney. I know you still have the water run.” He heaved the axe high again and split a log in two.

  “Thanks,” Kate said then mouthed, “I love you,” and Mark did the same.

  Rodney was already at the pantry, a binder in his hands that was three inches thick. “All we have left to do is make sure the numbers from the caches match up with the ones here.”

  Kate uncrumpled the list she’d balled into her pocket. The redundancies that Rodney had in place reminded her of the preflight checklists for the airlines—something she wasn’t sure if she’d ever get the chance to do again.

  “Mom?”

  Kate turned, finding Holly in the entrance of the galley-style kitchen. “Hey, sweetheart. What’s wrong?”

  “Can I go outside?”

  It was a request that had been repeated numerous times over the past few days, and Kate was reluctant to grant it. She knew that they were in the middle of nowhere, and she had rationalized their situation repeatedly. Still, she couldn’t shake the danger of this new world.

  There were no more police, no more ambulances, no justice system. The country’s technological clock and been wound back one hundred years. Holly had nearly died from infection a few days ago, and the bruising around her ribs hadn’t fully healed. But she knew that she couldn’t keep her daughter locked inside the cabin as if it were an ivory tower.

  “It’s pretty cold out there,” Kate answered, wrinkling her nose. “You might freeze.”