EMP Retaliation (Dark New World, Book 6) - An EMP Survival Story

by J. J. Holden

  “Let me address one thing, people,” Nestor said. “I don’t like what we have to do here today, but we’re Americans and Dillsburg isn’t. They’re with the Empire. They’re traitors to America, and the people who enslaved your families. Maybe they didn’t pull the trigger on your families. Maybe they didn’t personally steal your food and leave you to starve. But they support the people who did. They believe in the man who gave those orders. They are guilty of the war crimes you suffered from. This is justice.”

  Nestor scanned the group of men and woman and saw some of them nodding, grim looks of determination forming on their faces as they prepared themselves for the carnage that was about to fall on Dillsburg. He continued, “They are not human, they’re animals. Rabid animals who right now are threatening your kids. It’s us or the Empire, and it starts here and now. Let’s move out!”

  As his force of nearly three hundred fighters mobbed their way into motion, Nestor took a deep breath and prepared himself. He could already feel the Other pushing hard at the edges of his mind, ready to take over the meatsuit they shared. That vile, disgusting personality surged with joy and power at the thought of the coming slaughter.

  Hurry the hell up, bitch. Have you ever bitten off someone’s ear? You should try it. I think I’ll do that, today. Suck it up, you prissy little uptight—

  “Shut the hell up,” Nestor shouted, interrupting his alternate personality. “You get to come out soon enough, asshole.”

  The fighters nearby knew his strange behavior well enough that they didn’t even slow down to look at him. Speaking of rabid animals, the Other had come out an awful lot lately. Sooner or later, Nestor reflected, rabid animals like him needed to be put down. But not today.

  - 4 -

  0900 HOURS - ZERO DAY +341

  GENERAL TAGGART STOOD behind a large curtained area in the back of Taylor Gymnasium, Lehigh University, midway between Allentown and Easton. The campaign to liberate south Pennsylvania had dragged on for months at low intensity, but the last week or so had seen the end-game flare up and things had gotten downright nasty for both sides. In the end, however, the invader-held towns had been freed and the raider towns were under heel. For the first time since the EMPs nearly a year before, the area stretching along I-78 southward from Reading in the west to Newark in the east was under American control. Previously, it had been a patchwork quilt of raiders, survivors, invaders, petty warlords, and worse before Taggart “pacified” it.

  The ceremony about to be held here in the gymnasium would celebrate the region’s unification into New America. The resurgent nation now covered almost everything in Pennsylvania and New Jersey, from just south of Scranton and just east of Harrisburg to the coast. At least, it did if he included the Confederation, which of course he did. The Confederation had joined in spirit if not officially, at least, but they did seem to be taking on the coloration of a regional power in their own right.

  Staff Sgt. Eagan, ever at Taggart’s side, nudged him. “You got fifteen minutes until the speech, sir. You sure you got it down? Can I get you some water? Wipe your brow?”

  Taggart glanced at the curtain. “Yes, I have it down. I think. This is a rah-rah about how America is rising from the ashes here, today, beginning with them, and their duty to lead America’s bright new future. Shit, are you sure you couldn’t find some cheerleaders to form a pyramid in front of spark geysers in the background, with a flag overhead? Maybe with Flight of the Valkyries playing in the background?”

  Eagan snorted. “I’m pretty sure I couldn’t, sir. I think the junior officers stole the cheerleaders I had.”

  Taggart sighed, maybe too dramatically. He was irritated, though. “I mean, this whole assembly and speech is kind of like that, you know. A pointless display. I could be leading the fighting outside of Scranton, but here I am talking to these survivors—most of whom were cannibals and raiders pretty damn recently. But I suppose we need to let them put that messy chapter behind them. They want something to look forward to and need something to motivate them through the hard times ahead.”

  “I totally agree, sir.”

  Taggart nodded. “I imagine there have been other presidents who had to make similar choices. At least I’m in good company. I’d rather it was one of them making this silly speech, though.”

  “The choice of whether to punish or unify? Yeah. Washington and Lincoln, for example. Because you’re totally on their level. Really, sir.”

  “You’re such a shitbird, Eagan. Lincoln got shot.”

  Taggart’s sidekick smirked, but then changed the subject. “Have you decided what to do about the Philly metro area, sir?”

  “We haven’t liberated Philly. They’ve made it clear they’ll fight us rather than let outsiders call the shots for them, because they’ve seen how well that worked out before.”

  “Yeah. Are we going to call the shots anyway, do you think, or…”

  “No. They aren’t with us, and they sure don’t have the resources to make it worth the effort and losses to force them to join up. Not when we can fight actual invaders instead of other Americans. We’ll continue to focus on the Scranton campaign, and just cordon off Philadelphia.”

  “Good,” Eagan said, though he looked sad.

  Both men knew the recovering American forces couldn’t afford to fight voluntary-breakaway areas into submission and then have to feed all those empty mouths. Most of those breakaway urban areas wouldn’t contribute anything back, so New America was still too close to the subsistence level to force the issue. Maybe next year.

  “They may join later, when most have died off,” Eagan added, somewhat mirroring Taggart’s thoughts, but he didn’t sound like he particularly hoped it would happen.

  Taggart didn’t reply. What could he add to what Eagan had said? It was accurate. Taggart didn’t want to deal with places like Philly any more than Eagan did.

  Taggart pulled his uniform jacket to straighten it out, preparing for his speech. What a crock. How the hell did he get roped into pretending to be the President of the United States? He didn’t control all of one state, much less several united ones. Oh well, these were strange times.

  He glanced at his watch. Five minutes until he had to step out to the podium. “I guess I better get used to this crap.”

  * * *

  It was a bit early for lunch, but Carl had half a dozen appointments later in the day and he had promised Sunshine they’d eat together. He had sent a messenger to let her know of the schedule change. Actually, he had tried to meet with the leader of the Sewer Rats for lunch or dinner every day for the last four days, but things kept coming up to make it impossible. It was damn frustrating, but today, he had vowed, nothing would stand in the way.

  Carl started his motorized bicycle and headed through Liz Town, aiming toward Orange Street. It ran through the center of Timber Wolf territory, and Sunshine was supposed to meet him at the food truck that parked at Orange and Hanover. It was one of their favorite eating joints. What those cooks could do with chicken on a simple rocket stove was magical, though he doubted it was really chicken meat.

  At Spruce Street, a block from his destination, his radio crackled. He only carried a little civilian half-mile radio with three channels, nothing fancy, but it worked for non-secure comms while he was out and about. “My Alpha, your office reports that you have an urgent unscheduled meeting with the leader of the Puma Band, ETA twenty minutes.”

  The voice dripped with disdain when he named the Band. Carl tended to agree, but then, no one liked Puma. General consensus was that the whole lot of them were nothing but little two-faced shits. Nonetheless, they were Lizzies, and he could hardly deny an urgent meeting request from another Band’s leader.

  It was odd for Puma to request such a meeting, though, since they tended to keep to themselves whenever possible. Carl wondered what they wanted. Probably more ammo again, as if they even needed it. They were safely to the south of the college in peaceful territory. In contrast, the Timber Wolves ha
d the turf facing the wildlands outside the walls, and all the threats that came with that. More ammo for Puma could only come out of stockpiles the Timber Wolves drew from, so if they had the nerve to ask for that, it would be a contentious meeting.

  Or maybe he could blow them off. Carl keyed up his radio, then said, “What does the Puma leader want now, anyway? I have plans today.”

  “Sir, not the Puma’s interim leader. The meeting is with their minority leader. Apparently, she’ll throw her support behind a stronger alliance and trade treaty with Timber Wolf if you’ll support her campaign to become Puma’s Matriarch. If we send supplies to them, she feels she can buy off some of their interim’s followers. In return for our help, they’ll also pay a higher tax to Liz Town, on top of offering favorable trade terms with our Band.”

  Damn. There was no way he could dodge this meeting, then. This felt like the break he had been looking for—he had been trying to get this sort of deal with the Puma opposition leader for weeks. Damn them, why now?

  Carl acknowledged the meeting, got the location, and then continued on toward the food truck. He’d have to apologize to Sunshine, blow her off yet again. They got along so well and had so much in common. He reminded himself that it wasn’t as though they were dating, or anything, yet if he was honest with himself, he had already decided that he’d like to be with her. She certainly had always made it clear she wanted to be with him, and he’d long thought about it. Now they were finally in a position where he could be sure he wasn’t taking advantage of her situation. This should be easy, so why was it proving impossible to get together for a simple meal?

  Pulling up near the food truck, he dismounted and laid his bike down, then headed toward the picnic tables set up nearby on the sidewalk. Sunshine sat at one, but the table was empty, so she hadn’t yet ordered for them. She was waiting for him, but he’d have to disappoint her yet again.

  He forced himself to smile at her as he got to the table, and said, “Hello there, Sunshine. Thanks for meeting me.”

  He slid onto the bench opposite her, moving rather carefully to avoid getting a splinter somewhere embarrassing. The aging, peeling pine benches were notorious for that, and no one had bothered to sand them down and repaint them.

  Sunshine smiled back warmly. “About time you actually showed up. This is, what, the third time we’re trying to have a bite together? A girl might start to think you’re ditching her.”

  “Fourth time.” Ouch, that didn’t help his cause. “And no way I’m ditching. You lead a Band. You know how it is. Time is in shorter supply than bullets.”

  She took her hands off the table and moved them to her lap. “I know what my priorities are,” she said, staring into his eyes. She still wore a faint smile, but her eyes showed wariness. Maybe she expected him to bail out again.

  Well, this was going to suck. “Sunny, you are my priority. It’s just that our duties outweigh our personal priorities.”

  “Duties like meeting with Empire goons and giving them our food and guns?” Her eyes narrowed slightly. His arrangement with the Empire’s secessionist guerrillas had been an ongoing point of contention between them.

  “We’ve been through that talk before. You know my position—”

  Sunshine snapped at him, interrupting, “Which is that destabilizing the Empire is more important than helping Lizzies.”

  “Wildlanders,” he corrected her. “If the Empire comes back, who do you think suffers first? Wildlanders. If they cut off the wandering merchants, who suffers most? Wildlanders. The people outside our gates get by right now, but they won’t if the Empire comes back again with even more troops. We barely survived the last invasion.”

  Sunshine’s lips pressed together tightly, but she broke eye contact and looked down at the table. “I understand your position. But it’s so practical. What about human decency? You used to do a lot for the wildlanders, but now?”

  “I can’t help the wildlanders more than I already do. I’ve always helped however I could, and not only because it was strategically sound policy. But I remind you that you aren’t a wildlander anymore. You have a real Band. You aren’t outside the walls—you’re in Liz Town, here with me.”

  “You still haven’t made any kind of move on me, Carl. I practically threw myself at you, back when I was a wildlander and you were just using us as a resource. I figured you never ‘made a move on me’ because I was a wildlander.”

  “Sunny, you being a wildlander was never the issue. I really did like you, even then. I still do. But at the time, I never knew if you were coming onto me because I could give you more food and supplies, or if it was because I’m a Lizzie and I could have taken you away from a rough life as a wildlander. I didn’t want to abuse my upper hand, or take advantage of you.”

  Her eyes flared. “Well I wanted you to! And yet you still spend less time with me now than you did when you had to sneak the hell out of Liz Town just to see me.”

  “But you have to—”

  “Back when it was all business, you made the time. It’s called priorities, Carl.”

  “Back then, the politics in Liz Town were more complicated, more divided. Murderous, even. Timber Wolves needed to court wildlanders in case they ever needed to call on them for help inside the wall, and that saved my life, remember? But things are different now under Kodiak leadership. The new Speaker, Mary Ann, has everyone’s support except Diamondback, and they’re too busy infighting for who’s really going to be their next Alpha, ever since their quisling was executed with that traitorous snake Pamela.”

  “What the hell does that have to do with right now? God, Carl. If you don’t want me, say so and I’ll move on. So?”

  “So, I don’t spend a lot of time outside the wall talking to wildlanders anymore. It’s not a fair comparison. I mean, we still send out supplies on the sly just like we used to. I like to help them as I can, but—”

  “And when are you going to help me and you?”

  Carl felt irritation rising into anger. “What ‘us’? We aren’t technically anything more than friends.”

  “You do realize that’s your fault, not mine, right?”

  Carl felt his anger drain away a bit. He realized it was frustration, and he really had no reason to be angry with her. At himself, yes, but not at her. Knowing it didn’t stop him from feeling irritated, though. “Sunshine, you just have to realize that I have duties I can’t ignore. This leader crap is the reason I turned down the Alpha spot and being the Liz Town Speaker’s right-hand man, the last time around. I agreed this time, under Mary Ann as Speaker, because I saw how it turned out when I walked away from my duty. Shit went really bad, if you remember. I’m doing what I can to keep it from going bad again.”

  Sunshine stared into his eyes for a long moment, and Carl got the distinct feeling she was evaluating the truth of his words. She was making some sort of decision, and apprehension replaced his irritation.

  She said, “Fine. Then come with me right now.”

  “I really can’t. I have a meeting in ten minutes that could change Timber Wolf fortunes for the better, bring Puma into the fold, and eliminate a tough personal enemy.” Carl’s fists clenched slightly when he thought of the interim Puma leader, a stone-cold bastard who had it in for him. “Most importantly,” he continued, “it could finish unifying Liz Town. We need that unity to survive the challenges we know are coming, and if I just shine it on, this chance will be gone. My beta just told me the Puma opposition is ready to throw in with us. You can’t ask me to let that chance go. It’s too important for my Band, and for Liz Town.”

  Sunshine closed her eyes and said, “I guess you should get going then, Carl. You don’t want to miss your important meeting. I get it—you have duties. I’ll be fine.” She smiled at him wanly.

  Carl eyed her warily. Her change of tone was too abrupt, and he felt alarm bells going off in his mind. “You sure you’re going to be okay? Is there anything I can do for you later, maybe? Some way I can make this up to you
.”

  Sunshine slowly shook her head. “No, but thanks. I know your schedule is packed for the rest of the day. I’ll see you later.”

  Blinking rapidly, she got up and spun on her heels. Then she walked away, her back straight and stiff, and didn’t look back.

  Carl felt his heart drop, leaving something empty in its place. His mind raced. He hated having to disappoint her so deeply, yes, but he was stuck in the real world and really did have duties to take care of. Things that were more important, more urgent than his own desires. She would just have to understand that. They could get through it, though. He’d make it up to her later. There was always a later, right? There just had to be.

  * * *

  Cassy watched her front door close as the last of her visitors left. She intended to spend the rest of her day on the computer or on the radio, compiling information and communicating with outlying areas. She also had to be available to Taggart’s lieutenants to answer questions about permaculture responses to specific problems their communities were having. It was tedious and exhausting.

  There was another knock at her door, and Cassy groaned. She straightened her blouse, ran fingers through her hair, and hollered for whoever was outside to enter. She was surprised to see Frank, and she couldn’t resist smiling at him. “You’re a welcome sight for my exhausted eyes.”

  Frank gave her a half-smile. “I know, I’m sexy as hell. You’re welcome.”

  “Have a seat,” she said. “How can I help you?”

  He nodded in thanks, and sat down on the small couch. “I’ll cut to the chase. I’m getting a lot of complaints from Clanners.”

  “About what?” Cassy suspected it had to do with her, or Frank wouldn’t bring it to her attention.

  “The complaints are about the traffic you get here. It’s disruptive to our daily chores, training routines, the works. These strangers traipsing in and out aren’t Clanners, and half of them trample plants they think are weeds, they get in the way of people on errands, they always want to chatter while we’re trying to move cows to another paddock or transplant seedlings. They’re just underfoot.”