Surviving Chaos

by Ryan Westfield

  Max didn’t respond. He knew it wasn’t starting. He tried again, holding it for just a little less than the ten seconds he knew it took for the starter to overheat.

  Nothing.

  Max gave it a rest for a moment, then tried again, this time jamming the accelerator down to the floor.

  Still nothing.

  “Shit,” muttered Mandy. “Now what are we going to do? Are we out of fuel?”

  “I think so,” muttered Max. “We ran out a lot sooner than I thought we would. Do you know where we are on the map?”

  “It’s a little hard to judge, but based on the odometer, I think we’ve got… let me see… About five more hours to walk until we get there.”

  “Five hours? Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, and that’s going at a pretty steady pace.”

  Mandy glanced back at Georgia, who was still asleep, and then at Max.

  Max knew what she was thinking. Was Georgia going to be able to make it?

  Max let the Bronco coast as long as it could, then he steered it over to the side of the road.

  “Damnit,” said Mandy. “I can’t believe this happened.”

  “Come on,” said Max. “Let’s get moving, everyone. There’s no time to waste. No time to dwell on what happened.”

  Max got out into the cool, dark night. There was a sliver of moon appearing in the sky, making it a little easer to see than when he’d been hiking on his own through the woods.

  Max didn’t bother thinking about whether they’d had bad luck or not. As far as Max was concerned, there wasn’t any such thing as good or bad luck. There was just reality. Cold hard facts.

  They were out of gas. They had to walk.

  It was as simple as that.

  Everyone was piling out of the car, grabbing the gear.

  Sadie and Mandy were helping a very sleepy Georgia stand up.

  “Let her rest in the car,” said Max. “I’ll make a crutch quickly. We’ll see if that does it for you, Georgia. If not, we’ll make a stretcher for you.”

  “I don’t need a stretcher,” said Georgia. “There’s no way I’m going to have you carry me for hours.”

  “We’ll do what we have to do,” said Max.

  Max walked off the road, and a little ways into the woods.

  He shivered slightly in the cold air. He looked up at the moon for a quick moment before looking around for a sapling that they could cut down to use as a crutch for Georgia.

  There wasn’t one in the immediate area, so Max walked a little farther into the woods.

  He had moved far enough now that the voices of his friends were gone. There was nothing but silence around him.

  Silence.

  Then a voice, soft and raspy. Delicate and quiet. But firm and frightening.

  “Hands in the air,” said the voice.

  Max didn’t raise his hands. He turned and looked.

  It was the stranger. The woman who, just minutes ago, had been seated in the Bronco. She should have been tied up.

  But she’d gotten out.

  And somehow she’d gotten one of the guns.

  “What do you want?”

  “Hands in the air. Or I shoot.”

  17

  John

  “Kiki, come on,” said John, slapping his thigh.

  Kiki sprang forward, running after them.

  They were all running through the woods. Tom was leading the way, holding his shotgun in front of him.

  “You think we can trust him?” said Cynthia, panting.

  “I hope so.”

  John was pretty sure. Not 100%.

  But you couldn’t get 100%. Not now. Not since the EMP.

  John couldn’t keep up with them. He could barely run with the two packs. By the time he got to where they were heading, Tom and Cynthia and Kiki were already there.

  “This is your hideout?” said John, completely out of breath, panting heavily. He was already covered in sweat, which didn’t feel good in the cool air. It also meant he’d be soon dehydrated. He hadn’t been drinking much water. Neither he nor Cynthia had been.

  Tom nodded. He gestured to a little lean-to he’d apparently built. It hadn’t been built well, which made sense, considering Tom’s inexperience.

  “Look,” said Tom, pointing through the trees. “We can see the park ranger building from here.”

  “How do you know they’ll go there, though?”

  “That’s where they think I am. That’s where they go every time.”

  “Stay there, Kiki,” said Cynthia. “I hope she doesn’t wander off. Or run at them.”

  “She’s well trained,” said John. “Dale knew what he was doing, apparently.”

  The three of them got into the lean-to, flat on their stomachs. They pushed their packs into the corners.

  “We’ll be hidden in here,” said Tom.

  John had his doubts. It wasn’t like the lean-to was camouflaged. Then again, he hadn’t been able to see it until he got up close to it. And anyway, it wasn’t like they had any better options.

  “You see anyone yet?”

  “No, but I know they’re coming. Quiet. I can hear them.”

  They all fell quiet, and waited. John felt his heart racing in his chest.

  He had his rifle in front of him, his cheek pressed against it.

  Four figures emerged from the trees. They all carried weapons. A shotgun, a rifle, two with handguns. They wore civilian clothes, and each had a small backpack.

  “You think they’re from the compound?” whispered Cynthia.

  “Definitely.”

  John glanced over at Tom. His face had gone red. He was breathing hard, obviously full of rage and anger.

  The men were cautiously approaching the building, walking slowly in a single file line.

  “I’m going to get them,” muttered Tom, his voice intense. He was barely comprehensible. “I’m going to get them all.”

  Tom moved to get up.

  But John grabbed him and pulled him back down to the ground roughly.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “I told you,” snapped Tom. “I’m going to kill them all.”

  “Look,” said John, still holding onto Tom. “I barely know you, but I don’t want to see you shot to bits. You charge them, you’re going to die. You think you can take on all four of them?”

  “I’ve got the shotgun.”

  “Yeah? So? They’ve got guns too.”

  “This shoots more,” grunted Tom.

  “What are you talking about?”

  John was still holding Tom down, but Tom wasn’t moving to get back up.

  “Multiple shots,” muttered Tom. His eyes had a crazed look to them. “I’ll shoot them all at once. They won’t have a chance.”

  “Have you ever even fired that thing before?” said Cynthia.

  “No, but I know all about it.”

  “Have you ever even shot a gun before?” said John.

  Tom shook his head.

  Cynthia let out a little laugh of disbelief. “Stay here with us. Trust me, the shotgun doesn’t work how you think it does.”

  “What are they doing now?”

  “They’re going inside,” whispered John.

  “Now’s my chance,” said Tom, trying to stand up again.

  John pulled harder, and Cynthia grabbed him too, throwing him back down to the ground.

  “Look,” said John. “Frankly it’d be in our best interest to let you rush them. We could get away. They’re after us, too, you know.”

  “But we’re not those kind of people,” said Cynthia. “At least, I think we’re not. Right, John?”

  “We’re not letting him do it,” said John. “Come on, Tom. You’re talking suicide here. And over what? They harassed you a little? Trust me, far worse has been done to many. Cynthia’s the one in real danger here. They’re after women. You’d get off with just dying. What awaits her is far worse.”

  “Maybe we can attack them together then,” sai
d Tom.

  “Keep your voice lower,” said John. “Come on. We don’t have much time. It doesn’t take that long to figure out you’re not inside the building.”

  “Maybe they’re waiting for me.”

  “Maybe. But who knows what’s going to happen.”

  Suddenly, Tom shot up. He did it forcefully, breaking free from their grasp.

  “Tom!” hissed John.

  But Tom was already out of the little shelter, moving like a wild animal.

  Cynthia and John looked at each other. They had the same thought, apparent in both their glances. Did they risk their own lives to rush out and stop Tom from doing something incredibly stupid, even to the point of tackling him if necessary?

  Cynthia looked away. She started to get up, moving quickly.

  “We’ve got to get him,” she said.

  John grabbed her, and pulled her back down.

  “No!” hissed John. “We’re not doing that, Cynthia.”

  John held her body against his as the two of them watched Tom approaching the building. He’d been rushing forward like an animal at first. Now, he walked slowly and quietly, like he was stalking his prey. But that didn’t mean he stood a chance against four heavily armed men. Men who knew how to shoot, when Tom didn’t even have a clue.

  18

  Mandy

  “Where’s Max?”

  “He went to find wood for a crutch,” said Mandy.

  “He’s been gone a long time.”

  Something wasn’t right. But Mandy couldn’t place it. She didn’t know exactly what it was. It was just a feeling of uneasiness, of something being amiss, out of balance.

  Mandy looked around, starting to count heads.

  Was someone missing?

  “Where’d that woman go?” said Sadie.

  “Who?”

  “The prisoner.”

  It hit Mandy like a ton of bricks.

  The silent woman Mandy had found in the woods was missing. Completely gone.

  And so was Max.

  There was only one explanation.

  She began making rapid mental calculations. Georgia couldn’t move quickly. She could barely walk. She’d have to stay at the Bronco for now.

  But it’d be better if Mandy didn’t go alone, looking for Max. It’d be better to have a second gun, a backup.

  Who could come? James was the only one really qualified. Sadie wasn’t yet someone to count on in difficult life-or-death situations. Not yet.

  There was only one other gun with ammo anyway. Mandy couldn’t leave Georgia and Sadie there, unarmed and undefended.

  “OK,” said Mandy. “I’m going alone. No, James, you’re staying here.”

  James opened his mouth, and shot her a look. He was growing into the type of man who didn’t leave others to do the dangerous work. He wanted to be there when there was trouble. He wanted to help.

  “You’re staying here with your mom and sister, James,” said Mandy. “They need you.”

  “I’ll be fine on my own, Mandy,” said Georgia.

  But her voice was straining with pain as she struggled to just stand there next to the Bronco.

  “You’re not in any shape to fight, let alone defend your family,” said Mandy. “What I said is final.”

  Without another word, Mandy was off, into the woods, leaving her friends behind.

  James was getting good with a handgun. He’d be able to defend them, if it came to that. Hopefully there was no one else around. Hopefully Max was the only one in danger.

  Hopefully Max was still alive. It was entirely possible, Mandy realized, that Max was already dead. The silent woman was a complete unknown. Who knew what she was capable of, or what she’d already done. She could have silently slit Max’s throat when he wasn’t expecting it, and right this moment she could be circling back around to the Bronco to dispatch the rest of them.

  Although to what end, Mandy couldn’t imagine. It wasn’t like the Bronco was any use to anyone. Not without gasoline. And their own supplies were so pitifully low that… well, it wasn’t like it wasn’t worth stealing anything. They may not have had food or ammunition, but they did have the ammo-less rifles, the camping supplies, the water filters.

  If the woman had just spoken, Mandy and the others would have been perfectly willing to help her. Maybe even to adopt her as one of their own. They weren’t cruel people. They were practical, sure, and hard decisions had been made, and would be made in the future. But that didn’t mean that this woman, if she’d been the sort to want to help out, to do what had to be done, couldn’t find a place in their little tribe.

  Mandy knew she should be trying to move silently. But the dead leaves on the ground crackled with what seemed like every footstep. She tried to move slowly and carefully, but her heart was beating fast as she thought about what had happened to Max. She ended up moving fast, making more noise than she should have.

  It didn’t seem like they were anywhere to be found.

  Maybe Max was already lying on the ground, his throat cut, his blood pooling up around him.

  Maybe he lay there, his skull punctured by a bullet. It wasn’t much comfort to Mandy to remember that she would have probably heard the shot.

  Just when it seemed like she’d never find them, Mandy saw them.

  Two figures up ahead. Mandy was coming up from the side.

  The woman had a gun pointed at Max’s head. Max had his arms in the air.

  Did the woman have Max’s Glock? The guns in the Bronco were all accounted for. Right?

  Mandy reacted immediately. She threw herself to the ground, getting mostly behind a dead log that lay in the dead leaves.

  The ground was cold, and Mandy pressed her body into it. She had her gun pointed towards the woman, her arms stretched out. She used the log to steady her aim.

  Should she fire right away?

  She should. Mandy knew it was the right thing to do.

  The woman hadn’t seen her. Max hadn’t seen her. Or if he had, he hadn’t given any indication. He hadn’t given her presence away.

  Mandy’s heart was pounding. She felt breathless.

  Max could be dead any second. Who knew what the woman might do. The stranger was capable of anything. That was the only safe thing to assume.

  Mandy’s finger was on the trigger. She needed to squeeze it. She needed to fire. She needed to shoot this woman dead.

  There was every reason to act.

  Every reason in the world.

  This wasn’t the time for morals. And if it was, Mandy was morally in the right. How could she not be? Her friend had a gun pointed at his head. He could be dead in moments.

  Mere moments.

  This wasn’t the time for Mandy to get stuck. To freeze up.

  But she wasn’t the one making the decision. Her brain was. Her body was.

  Memories came flooding back, memories of the woman at the farmhouse that she’d murdered. Killed with a knife, in the most hands-on manner possible.

  Mandy could see the woman’s lifeless face as clear as day in her memory, a memory that seemed to overwhelm the present, confusing and confounding her.

  “What do you want?” said Max.

  They were the first words that Mandy had heard from either Max or the stranger. They brought Mandy back to the real world, away from the painful memories.

  “What do you think?” said the stranger.

  There was something strange about her voice. As if she hadn’t used it in a long, long time.

  Mandy held her breath. Her finger started to move.

  But she didn’t to want to take a life. Not another. It was too much.

  Mandy knew that she wasn’t strong like Max. Max would have pulled the trigger the first chance he had. Had Mandy been in danger, had a gun been pointed at her head, Max wouldn’t have hesitated.

  Mandy was racked with guilt. She owed Max everything. She owed him her life and even more than that. They were all in debt to Max. And now she wasn’t taking the action th
at would surely save his life?

  “We can give you whatever you want,” said Max.

  Mandy was impressed with how calm his voice was. He didn’t sound like he feared for his life. Although surely he did.

  Then again, Max probably knew that Mandy or James would come looking for him. Surely he expected it. He was counting on it.

  What he didn’t expect was that Mandy would have trouble killing again. That she couldn’t bring herself to pull the trigger to save his life.

  Such a simple action. A single movement of the finger. And it was all over. Mandy was confident about her aim. She’d grown into a better shot than she could have ever imagined before the EMP. But of course, that wasn’t what she was worried about. It was something bigger, something looming and huge.

  Maybe her body wasn’t working the way it should be. It wasn’t just mental stress. It was physical too. Her stomach hadn’t been properly full since the compound. She’d pushed herself farther than she would have ever thought possible.

  Physical stresses compounded mental stress. And mental stress made physical stress worse. Stress worked in both directions, compounding perpetually, rolling into a huge snowball that seemed immovable.

  “If I can be frank,” said Max, his voice still calm. “It seems to me like you don’t have a plan at all. You don’t know what you’re going to do. You don’t know what you need from us. The SUV is out of gas. And you know that.”

  “Shut up,” said the stranger.

  “You’re acting out of desperation,” said Max. “And I’m not saying you’re going to regret killing me, but at least think about what you’re going to gain from an action like that.”

  Mandy couldn’t believe how calm and sure of himself Max sounded.

  Was he just buying time?

  Beads of sweat had formed on Mandy’s brow. They felt ice cold. Her breathing had grown ragged. She couldn’t keep it quiet.

  Was there a way to neutralize the threat without killing?

  Mandy already knew the answer.

  No.

  A huge no.

  If Mandy snuck up on her, she’d be heard. Mandy wasn’t some kind of tactical ninja. She didn’t have any special skills. She was a regular person in the real world. Her footsteps, when she got close enough, would be clearly heard. The stranger would shoot Max in panic, spin around, and possibly shoot Mandy too. Depending on how good a shot she was, Mandy and Max both stood a good chance of dying.