Our Survival: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller (Grid Down Book 1)

by Nick Williams

  She looked back at the gate, and her face fell. Suddenly it hit her that there might be people breaking through that gate, trying to get into their home, trying to hurt her family… but there might also be people wanting help. She turned to Roy.

  “What if there’s people who come here and need help? Like if one of them is hurt, or they need food or a safe place to stay? We don’t know what’s going on out there, could be we’d have to let someone in.”

  Roy stood in silence, slowly shaking his head.

  “Roy… we’d let them in, right?” she asked cautiously. He looked at her, and slung the hammer across his shoulder.

  “We’ll see.” he said simply, and walked back towards the house. She followed him.

  The light inside the house was significantly lower without the windows open. They had to use flashlights, electric lamps, or even candles, during the day. Roy lumbered into the bathroom for a rag bath; the first thing they did when the power went out was turn on the water and fill up the sinks and bath tub with water, and then every vessel they could find. They had bottled water, too, but it was sealed. Taking advantage of the working faucets gave them enough water to drink and bathe and cook with for a week so far. The disadvantage was that bathing meant filling a small bowl and soaking a rag and scrubbing yourself. No more luxurious hot baths with bubbles, or indulgent stress-relieving hot showers.

  Josie went into Alex’s room, where the girl was laying in bed under the covers, reading a book by candlelight. Her little stuffed white rabbit was tucked in beside her.

  “Hey, kiddo! How’re you feeling?” Josie asked, sitting on the side of the bed and stroking her daughter’s hair. Alex shrugged.

  “I’m thirsty, and tired. What time is it?” the little girl asked. Josie looked at her watch:

  “About 5 in the afternoon, honey. You’ve been napping all day, lazy bug!” Josie teased, smiling and nudging Alex playfully. She was trying to hide her worry.

  They decided to start skipping insulin days and just giving Alex her shots every other day, just in case they couldn’t get resupplied for a while. The effect it was having on Alex was almost immediate. She was napping a lot, and was thirsty all the time, which Josie didn’t tell Roy about for fear he’d get upset about their water rations. Alex was also not eating as much as she should be, as a 10-year-old or as a diabetic. Josie knew she’d start to lose weight soon, and there could be other more serious repercussions later. But what else could they do? Better to skip her shots on a controlled basis and have more when it’s needed than to act like nothing was wrong and then suddenly run out…

  “I’ll get you some water, baby.” Josie said with a smile.

  “And a sandwich?” Alex asked politely.

  “What do you say?”

  “A sandwich, please, Mom.” Alex replied.

  “Okay. Be right back.” Josie said, patting the white rabbit on the head as she left. She knocked softly and opened the bathroom door.

  “Honey…?” she said. Roy was leaning on the bathroom sink counter, using the now-empty sink to hold his small amount of bathing water. He was looking at himself intently in the mirror, and kept staring a moment longer before looking slowly up at her. He smiled politely.

  “Yeah?” he said. She had obviously interrupted something.

  “She’s, she’s doing okay. Not as good as yesterday, though. I’m gonna make her a sandwich, we still have a few slices of bread left. If that’s okay.”

  “You’re in charge of food, it’s your kitchen. I trust you to maintain small portions. We have to ration everything we have.”

  “Yes… I know. Okay. Sorry to bother you.” she started to shut the door.

  “Hey...” he said, suddenly getting up from the counter and putting his hand on her hand closing the door. She looked at him with a guarded anticipation, and he leaned in and kissed her, lingering an inch from her face afterwards, touching his forehead to hers.

  She felt her anxiety and fear melt away for the moment. This was the man she married. He was so strong, but he was kind in his strength. And whatever other doubts she might have about his judgment, or their situation, she knew that, if nothing else, she could never doubt his love for her or their daughter. And with everything else, she had no choice but to trust him.

  “Thanks for your help out there. It may not make the house look pretty, but it’s going to be worth it. I promise.” he said in that low, gruff but gentle whisper she adored.

  “I know.” she said, smiling and nodding slightly. “We’re safe with you here.”

  With that, she went into the kitchen, and returned to Alex’s room with her sandwich and a 2-liter of water held indiscreetly at her side so Roy wouldn’t accidentally see it. Alex devoured the sandwich and gulped down half the bottle of water before letting an impressive belch escape. Her eyes got wide as she looked at her mom sitting on the edge of the bed.

  “Oh, ‘scuse me, sorry.” she said as she covered her mouth with her arm and then wiped with her cuff. She looked around the room and at the boarded window.

  “Daddy said something about bad guys. Is it true?” she asked. Josie blinked, unsure of how to respond. She took a deep breath, and put a hand on Alex’s knee, squeezing reassuringly.

  “We’re just being careful. We live way far away from people, but there’s always the chance that somebody might come by who isn’t going to be nice, or maybe an animal that wants to find something to eat.” she said.

  “...I want to walk the perimeter tonight.” Alex said, like it was the most natural phrase in the world.

  “What…?” Josie said, taken aback.

  “I want to walk the perimeter. Like in this book I found on Daddy’s shelf.” she referred to the book in her lap. Josie flipped through it: a non-fiction anthology of war stories from the Middle East. Josie shook her head as she put the book back on the bed.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, sweetie.”

  “You and Daddy have been working so hard all this time, and I can’t even do anything to help. I’m done with all my homework, I’ve read all the books for class, I want to do something to help. I want to walk the perimeter…. please.” Alex insisted, remembering her manners at the end of her request. “You… you can come with me. Or watch me from the porch.”

  Josie thought about it, and looked at the bedroom door as if expecting Roy to be right there. She turned back to Alex.

  “Alright, but you do one lap, on the inside of the fence, and I’m watching you from the porch.”

  “Yes!” the little girl shouted, hopping out of bed and throwing on her coat and shoes.

  “And since you already know how to walk the perimeter, you won’t be needing to read anymore about it.” Josie said in a stern tone while grabbing the book from the bed. Alex protested.

  “Aww! Come on, I’m not even halfway through it yet!”

  “You’re too young to be reading this, Alex. I’m going to have to talk to your father and read it myself before I give it back. You want to argue? You can forget about doing your guard duty.”

  “Fine…” Alex relented with a huff, grabbed her air pellet rifle she kept by her beside and proceeded to the front door. She grabbed the flashlight hanging on the doorknob and undid three of the four latches, the fourth being too tall for her. Josie unlatched it for her, and opened the door.

  It was pitch black outside. A chilly wind blew overhead. The stars all shone so brightly it looked like someone had spilled salt on a sheet of black glass. The perimeter fence was barely visible from the porch.

  “Ok.’ Josie said ‘Keep your light on, do one lap, and come right back. I mean it.”

  “Yes, sir.” Alex said, shouldering her pellet rifle, clicking her heels, and giving her mom a salute. Where did she learn to do that? Josie wondered.

  Alex’s light danced in the darkness as she walked, her feet sometimes visible in the beam. Sometimes she would stop, and shine the light outside the fence, looking for something she thought she heard or just imagined
she heard.

  When she disappeared around the back of the house, Josie listened intently for her small footsteps, counting the seconds until finally she saw the little flashlight bouncing and dancing along the fence again. When she reached the front gate again, she swept her flashlight once more across the treeline 150 yards away, gazing intently into the abyss. After a minute, she did a perfect about face, and marched back to the front door.

  “All clear, commander,” she said with surprising confidence, and proceeded into the house. Josie stifled a good-natured chuckle, and closed the door, locking all the bolts and chains behind her.

  “Alright, private, bed time.” Josie said, placing the flashlight back onto the door handle and following Alex to her room. Alex put her air rifle next to her bedside, kicked off her boots, and pulled the covers back over herself and her white rabbit.

  “Good night, Mommy.” she said, taking another long draw from her water bottle before blowing out the bedside candle.

  “Good night, kiddo. See you in the morning.” Josie said, kissing her daughter on the cheek and softly closing the door behind her. She moved down the hallway and into her bedroom.

  Roy was already in bed, laying on the side closest to the door, military boots and clothes folded on the footlocker at the end of the bed. He really did miss it. Josie knew that, and tried not to be hurt by it. His service pistol sat loaded on the night stand. There was a time when Josie was bothered by that, but he’d taken Alex shooting a few times and taught her how to safely handle firearms, namely: don’t touch Daddy’s guns unless Daddy is there.

  Josie changed into her pajamas, looking slyly over her shoulder to see if Roy was watching; he wasn’t. He was absorbed in a notepad of logistics, calculating how much food and water they actually had, listing places to get more. The sight made Josie nervous. As she climbed into bed and lay there beside him, staring up at the ceiling, she spoke:

  “You know, we could take the truck and just leave. Just drive, in any direction. There’s bound to be somebody who’ll know what’s going on. We’ll pack as much gas and food and water and supplies into the truck as we can, and maybe we’ll find someplace.”

  “No. Never.” Roy said flatly. Josie turned her head and looked at him. He glanced at her from his notepad.

  “I know you’re scared. But this is our home. Our daughter’s home. Your home. We bought this place, built more than some of it, and we will not abandon it, under any circumstances. I can’t believe you’d even think of it.” he said.

  “Yeah… you’re right. I’m just scared. Not knowing what’s going on is making me restless.” she replied, turning her head back to face the ceiling.

  “We’re safer here than on the road, and can last a lot longer with all our supplies. A lot of that is your work, too.” he said, smiling over at her and patting her hand on the sheets next to him. “…and I’m grateful.” he added. She nodded.

  “Alex wouldn’t make it very well on the road, either.”

  “How’s she doing with the new insulin regimen?”

  Josie shook her head and rolled over to hide her expression. “...She’s getting worse.” she whispered.

  Chapter 3

  Ben thought back on the events that have led him to this moment, sucking the cool October air and puffing out little clouds of mist as he warmed himself by the fire.

  One little act of arson, he didn't even mean to do it. Fire has a life all its own, it can sting like a blade, fire can bring a wall down like a ten pound hammer. If you let it, fire can burn more than just your ex girlfriends keepsakes, the ones she had no right to keep in the first place, fire is greedy like that.

  Fire does more than that if you let it. Smoke stack chimneys send smokey offerings to the sky in the name of fire. In a book Ben once read that dot Indians offer their dead to the flames. Nazi's supposedly burned all those people in ovens but the Nazi's in the prison yard say that was just a lie propagated by the corrupt government.

  Despite all this trouble fire brings with it, the way the flames caress the logs in the camp fire are so beautiful. Their campfires did wonders for the canned food they took from the prison, when they still had it. They had been taking everything they want from the abandoned town but food was scarce.

  The inhabitants had taken almost everything out of the gas station before they left. It could have been years since anyone was living in Shneeton. La Familia got to sleep in the few buildings in town the rest of them gathered in the brush and the woods that crowded in in either side of the highway.

  A few of the inmates were starting work on shanties and lean-tos against the existing structures of the town but work was mired with technical setback and nobody ever started work this early in the morning. The only thing left in town seemed to be one rusted out pickup tucked behind the three car garage for travelers stuck in Shneeton for extenuating circumstances.

  The gearheads were already quarreling over what kind of custom shit the would trick it out with. Ben didn't care much for cars though. The ghostly presence of a flame was maybe the last comfort he could still take pleasure in. A simple existence.

  Fire gives warmth and tempts the cold camper close and many times Ben has pushed his fate and gotten burned for it. Across his chest he bears his worst scar. Grease, liquid flame. The way it splashed and sizzled his flesh.

  He was twelve then and camping when the bacon fell from the Coleman burner and caught him across the chest. This camp out reminded him of that time, although this time his camp mates are escaped convicts and not little boy scouts.

  “Now listen up bitches, I'm only gonna explain this one time,” Dominique 'Caballero' Ojo was talking and everyone stopped what they were doing to listen.

  Ben figured it was because he was 'La familia' and he took that to mean gang affiliated but since he was not Mexican and not serving for more than a year his lawyer strictly advised him not to get involved. When Ben had mentioned that Ojo had taken a liking to him and had offered a seat at the end of their cafeteria table the lawyer had made that clear.

  Ben wondered where his lawyer was now and what his opinion was on getting involved with breakouts. But that all seemed distant past at this point and for the time being Ben was happy.

  It had been 11 days since the breakout. 11 days of sunshine and toes in the grass. 11 days of sleeping under the trees at night with fires lit along the way at every night. 11 days of living off land as a breakout.

  They were armed, they were powerful and for the first time in his life Ben felt like he was doing something that mattered. There was a little blood back in the prison, a few guards tried to exercise control and Ben watched them gutted from his cell.

  It was Ojo who released all the cell blocks and it was Ojo who put dead guards' guns and looted riot gear in the hands of those who would follow him. The food was shit, canned prison food mostly, but somehow it tasted better than it did on the inside.

  This is only temporary, Ben told himself as he looked at the Glock 17 9mm in his waistband. A few more days of this and I'll slip away. No one will find me, I'll do it at night. I'll bring a tiny coal in a bundle of moss and light it when I get safely away. Then I'll be a new man. I'll go to Montana and get a new start. No more lawyers, no more restraining orders, no more 'La Familia'--

  “Isn't that right pendejo.” Dominique's voice snapped Ben out of his thoughts to find the swarthy little man staring right at him, his black eyes were alive and swimming with dark thoughts and Ben hadn't heard a word of them.

  Prison tattoos like a tangle of daggers and crosses and other pointed objects stitched his smile deeper into his cheeks. Dominique was a lifer.

  “Me-- uh, yeah. Yes. Caballero sir.” Ben didn't like being looked at that way and he fought to keep his eyes on something more pleasing. The fire looked nice.

  One of Dominique's thugs began a deep rolling laughter that echoed out to the rest of the group. His name, well -- Ben didn't know his name but every time it would should came up the answer this cinder block
of a man ever revealed was the tattoo of a python coiled around his neck right next to his 'La Familia' tattoo of an open palm bearing the bloody scar of a stigmata.

  Generally this man Ben referred to as Python would then take his huge hands lay them on Ben, really let the weight of this man's body sink in before Ben could leave. Python gave Ben the creeps more than any one else in cell block B. People always talked about the purse of makeup he hid in his bunk but never to his face.

  “Oh yes then,” Dominique nodded his head slowly as if teaching a child a new word. “You guys hear that, Benny Boy agreed. Do it then, hand over that pistola. You leave now boy. Gimme you're gun without a fuss and I'll let you leave with a couple cans of beans.

  Shit, shit, shit, shit, Ben's mind was racing, my damn mind again, Julie always said I was damaged goods but –