Our Survival: A Collection of Post Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thrillers

by Williams, Ron

  “Keep coming, you can do it,” she said, turning to give him another quick look, but Bill noticed she also didn’t slow down. She just kept powering along, steady and smooth.

  Bill took another look at the oncoming boat. It was clearly angling to get between Sally and the shore. He needed to do something to buy her some time.

  With a loud slap of his paddle against the water Bill pushed the kayak over its tipping point.

  He had done enough drills since Cole had been born to not panic when he dumped into the water, feeling that moment of disorientation about which way was up until his life jacket popped him up to the surface.

  He gave the kayak a hard shove in the direction of the shore and then steeled his nerve for what he knew he had to do next.

  Bill unbuckled the life jacket and let himself slip out of it. The slap and splash did their work, and the two flashlights on the boat lit him up. He heard the engine slow a little, and come towards him.

  “I can’t swim!” Bill shouted, before slipping down below the waves. He didn’t have to try and act convincing. He had been able to tamp down his fear of the water enough to get into small boats, but had never been able to actually jump into a pool or lake without a life jacket on.

  With a desperate kick of his feet, Bill broke the surface of the water. The motorboat was coming at him, but he couldn’t tell how close Sally was to shore.

  He could hear the soldiers on the boat shouting to him as the water closed over him again.

  Chapter 10

  Sally Chandler heard a sudden slap of a paddle against water, followed by the splash of a kayak going over. She looked over her shoulder to see Bill’s kayak upside down. The soldiers in the motorboat coming to intercept them brought their flashlights to bear on Bill. As they lit him up, she saw him give the kayak a purposeful shove towards her.

  She could swear she saw him unbuckle his life jacket, but couldn’t understand why he’d do such a thing. Her husband was terrified of water, had been since he’d seen his brother drown when they were kids. It was only when he had children of his own, including one that wouldn’t stay out of the water, that he forced himself to get over his fear enough to buy a fishing boat and learn how to kayak.

  “I can’t swim!” Bill shouted, before his head slipped beneath the water.

  “Oh, damn you!” she said quietly when she figured out what he was doing. She hesitated just a moment then did what she knew he wanted her to do. She paddled two strokes backwards, just enough to catch the bow line of his overturned kayak and hook it to one of the gear lines on her own.

  “You there. Stop! Stop!” one of the soldiers shouted at her, over the commotion of at least two other voices calling out to Bill. As soon as she heard his voice, she gave herself permission to paddle as fast as she could for shore. He was in Army custody, but he was at least still alive, and she had two children that needed her.

  Behind her, she heard somebody yell, “Whoa!” followed by another splash of a body hitting water. She assumed that was Bill buying her as much time as he could. As she came up to shore, she angled towards a clump of brush that she hoped would shield her a bit if the soldiers go things on their boat under control and went back to looking for her.

  As she got out of her kayak, she first pulled her pistol out of the waterproof well on the vessel, then put her socks and shoes on, all the while keeping her eyes peeled out over the water. Next, as quietly as she could, she opened the well on Bill’s kayak and took out his pistol. She was relieved that his bug-out bag had stayed attached to the kayak. On the other hand, it was thoroughly waterlogged. The rucks had waterproof covers, but those were to protect the contents from rain, not from being submerged in water. She swore it must have doubled the bag’s weight. Sally was tempted to just drop it and go on with only her bag, but without any true idea of the situation, she was reluctant to leave anything that might be useful behind. With Bill’s bag on her back, she unclipped her own bug-out bag from her kayak and slipped her arms through the shoulder straps to carry it on her chest. She felt overloaded and awkward, but so far had managed to avoid being seen by the soldiers on the boat, and she was at least on dry land. The last thing she did, before turning inland, was to give the two kayaks a good shove out into the lake.

  The west shore of the lake had a good number of places where the land sloped up fairly gently from the water, to a frontage road. She scrambled up to the road, figuring that was her best option to cover a lot of ground quickly all the weight she was carrying. As she hit the pavement, she looked back out towards the lake again. Flashlight beams raked out towards the shore from the motorboat, but it seemed to be moving south, back towards the bridge. She said a silent prayer that Bill had not angered the soldiers enough that they just threw him back into the water and let him drown.

  Within a half hour, it was light enough for her to be able to see a good distance down the road. That was her cue to get off it and into the trees. Less than twenty-four hours after an EMP event was not the time for a lone woman to get caught walking along a road. Their encounter with the two men on the PNT the previous afternoon, who had immediately gone out with guns to shake down hikers, made it clear that there were people that were going to take advantage of the chaos.

  Sally found a thin game trail that lead uphill from the road. She climbed up, keeping her eyes peeled right and left until she found a good sized fallen tree. That would give her a vantage point over the road while still giving her good concealment. When she dropped the two rucks, her own and Bill’s sodden one, she had to reach for the sky and stretch out her back.

  The first thing she did after that was pull out the camouflaged poncho from her pack and quickly tie down the corners to the log and to small saplings uphill of it, giving herself some overhead cover. Next, she took out Bill’s poncho and spread it out, then dumped the contents of his pack out on it, so she could triage the supplies.

  Fortunately, the items most prone to water damage had been packed in freezer bags, and the whole ruck was packed tight enough to keep any water from penetrating. A couple small books on wilderness survival and field first aid hadn’t been stored in bags and were badly waterlogged. Sally knew there were better books at the cabin, so they were no great loss. The cardboard boxes of spare ammunition for Bill’s pistol were a loss, but it was easy enough for her to dry the rounds with a cloth from her pack, and then wrap them up tightly in a couple of her spare socks.

  A little bit after the sun broke the tops of the mountains across the lake, the sound of a diesel truck accelerating rapidly rumbled down the road from the direction of the bridge. It was followed shortly by the sounds of a couple more vehicles, then gunshots. Sally checked her and Bill’s pistols to make sure both had rounds chambered, and patted the pockets where she had their extra magazines.

  As she peeked out over the log, she saw a big, old pickup truck tearing up the road towards her, followed by two camouflaged Army vehicles, the older ones that predated the Hummers and MRAPs that Bill had driven around Afghanistan. They looked like older SUVs more than proper tactical vehicles, and lacked roof turrets, which meant that the soldiers were leaning out of the windows to exchange fire with the civilian vehicle, which had at least two men in the bed.

  The soldiers had the advantage of automatic fire, though, including something that sounded to her relatively untrained ear like a light machine gun of some sort. Some important part of the civilian vehicle must have been hit, because the truck started fishtailing up the road. The two men in the bed of the truck stopped firing back as they held on for dear life, one of them being thrown from the truck bed, into the scrub at the side of the road. Duffel bags and suitcases also went flying from the truck bed, which made Sally think occupants had been out looting properties already. She hoped they’d only gone after empty homes and thought again of her children alone in the cabin. The few miles between where she was and where they were would have been a long but fairly pleasant walk just twenty-four hours earlier.

  Ju
st after the military vehicles passed out of sight of Sally’s hideout, she heard a crash and brakes, a furious burst of gunfire from several weapons, then silence. She realized that things were suddenly way too hot where she was, and that she needed to either button down and stay hid or move fast. She looked at the clothes, household goods, and who knew what else that had gone flying from the looters’ truck and suspected that the soldiers would be back to police it up. Not so much to clear litter, but to collect whatever might be valuable. That would have them searching around way too close to where she was.

  As fast as she could, while still being quiet, she started stuffing things back into Bill’s ruck before she rolled up the two ponchos. As she put the two packs on again, she was relieved that she’d lost a little bit of water weight, between the items that were too damaged to be worth carrying, and from just getting things unpacked and wrung out a bit. She still did not relish the idea of having to haul all of that weight up from the lake to the cabin.

  Not liking it wasn’t going to magically get it done, though, she downed a good drink of water and cracked open a protein bar to get her moving and stood up, looking towards where the vehicles had disappeared in their chase. She heard nothing driving down from that way, and didn’t see anybody on foot, so she wriggled a bit to settle the packs a little more comfortably, and turned to face uphill.

  And was immediately blindsided by something big that knocked her flat. Her head snapped to the side as she impacted the ground, and then she took a staggering blow to her cheek. She put up an arm to fend off the next blow from dirty and disheveled man with a bloody face. Probably the one that had been thrown from the truck.

  At least the two rucks that kept her from moving about effectively, with their weight and bulk all around her, also made it difficult for the man to get himself into good position for another punch. She kept her left arm moving frantically, to not give him any clear line at her face, while her right hand went to her belt holster. The thumb lock had held, and her pistol was right where it should have been. The next punch she intercepted was punctuated by her bringing the barrel of the gun right up into the man’s gut and firing.

  He spasmed as the bullet tore through his midsection. Sally bought the gun higher up on his torso, and fired a second round into his chest. Even though both shots had been fired with the barrel right up on the man, the reports sounded unnervingly loud to Sally. She was sure the soldiers must have heard them and were probably already on their way. She rolled the man off of her, rolled herself up to her feet, and took off to the south, running parallel to the road for a few hundred yards, well past where she could be seen from her hideout through the trees. After a stop to listen behind her, she steeled herself to start the arduous task of going upslope as fast as she could without attracting any attention her way.

  Chapter 11

  The one thing Bill remembered to do after slipping out of his life jacket was to keep a death grip on his paddle. As he frantically kicked at the water, flailing his arms, he never once let go of the paddle. That was what saved his life. One of the soldiers on the small motorboat managed to get a hold of it, and as soon as Bill felt that steadying force on it, he was able to relax just enough to start pulling himself hand-over-hand up its length.

  The next thing he knew, somebody had a strong grip on his wrist and pulled his head up above the water.

  “We got you, sir,” a voice said. He felt somebody else grab him under his other arm and pull him up towards the side of the boat. “Let’s get you up here.”

  Bill looked around and saw the Sally had taken the hint, and had kept going towards shore. She was a quick thinker, able to respond to things that came at her sideways, which was one of the things he’d always admired about her. He also knew that he needed to give her more time to get to shore. As the two soldiers started pulling him up, he saw that the only other person on the boat was sitting at the back by the outboard motor, and his eyes were on Sally.

  Bill reached back to his old Marine Corps martial arts training, and at the moment when the two soldiers pulling him up were at their most vulnerable, leaned over to pull him up out of the water and into the boat, he pressed his thighs up against the boat and twisted, overbalancing one of them. The soldier made a surprised “Whoa!” as he went over into the water, letting go of Bill’s arm as he did so. This freed up Bill to grab the side of the boat, say, “Sorry…” over his shoulder, and pull the other soldier over the side.

  The soldiers were wearing life jackets, so the bobbed right up to the surface behind Bill. He apologized profusely for accidentally pulling them in and made of show of not being able to pull himself up. The two pushed him up from the water, and he finally flopped ungracefully into the bottom of the boat.

  “I’m all muscle, so I just sink like a rock,” Bill said as the soldier at the motor drew a Beretta 9mm pistol.

  “Well, don’t make any more trouble, or we’ll test that, alright?”

  Bill held his hands up, palms out and open. “I understand,” he said. As the two men in the water hauled themselves aboard, he hoped he’d given Sally enough time. He could barely see the two light-colored kayaks at the shore.

  “What are you guys doing out here anyway? Coming up on me like that out of the darkness.”

  “Whole area’s on lockdown,” one of the soldiers said. “We’re pulling everybody into the towns until the crisis resolves itself.”

  “Crisis?” Bill asked, hoping if he could keep them talking, he’d distract them from Sally. “Power goes out for a day and it’s a crisis?”

  “It’s not just the power.”

  “What do you mean?” Bill asked. I’ve been out at my campsite or on the water all day. When the sun set and I didn’t see any of the usual lights on shore, I just figured we’d had a blackout or something. No big, really. I’m up here to camp and fish so I’ve got everything I need. Or I did until you all came by and made me swamp my boat.”

  “There’s been-“ One of the soldiers started, only to be cut off by the one at the motor. That one still had his pistol aimed at Bill and held it with a certain casual air to suggested he was very competent with it. He was also very clearly assessing the man in front of him, taking his measure.

  “There’s been a major event, electrical infrastructure down in multiple areas. A state of emergency has been declared, and as we’ve just told you, we’re pulling everybody into the towns and cities and restricting movement for the time being.

  There was just enough light now for Bill to make out the patches on the soldiers’ uniforms. They weren’t wearing Montana Army National Guard patches on their left shoulders, some other insignia he didn’t immediately recognize. Each of them had another patch on the right, an Army tradition to show that a soldier had served in combat with the unit. The one at the motor with the pistol trained on Bill had a Ranger tab above his National Guard patch, and the scroll of one of the Army’s Ranger Regiments on his right shoulder. Bill knew that he wasn’t facing a weekender, but somebody who had some serious training and experience behind him. Attempting to fight this guy or escape was as likely to get him killed as anything else, so Bill calculated the best thing to do was not make any trouble, and look for a chance to get away later. As it was, he figured he’d bought Sally some time, so she could get to the kids.

  “Our instructions are to take anybody on the roads or the water into custody,” the Ranger said to Bill, one hand reaching behind his back and producing a pair of plastic zip cuffs. “You gonna be cool about this?”

  Bill nodded his head while the Ranger handed the cuffs over to one of the other soldiers.

  Once they had Bill cuffed, the soldiers took a slow pass by the shore, searching for the kayaks. By the time they found them, they had floated a good ways south, towards the bridge. “Your partner will get swept up soon enough,” the Ranger said.

  A few minutes later, they crossed under the bridge over the lake, and not long after that, the Libby Dam came into sight. Just like at the bridge,
generator-mounted light poles were set up at the dam, and there was a bustle of military activity on and around it. There were just a couple of housing tents set up, and a half dozen older vehicles that predated computerized engine controls moving around. Four were military, the other two were older civilian vehicles that had probably been commandeered. There were also five men on horseback, in uniform and otherwise, riding around the area.

  Bill couldn’t help but wonder, if it had been an EMP, how so many of soldiers had been mobilized into the area so quickly. There weren’t many at the bridge – he’d seen less than a platoon there - and he guessed maybe a platoon was at the dam, but to have gotten the light towers and tents on site so fast made him wonder. A platoon and a half seemed like a lot of people to be on duty at just two locations in some really wide-open country.

  There was no way they’d be able to pull so many National Guard troops on duty on such short notice with the entire communications grid having gone down suddenly. He wondered if there hadn’t been some sort of hint the government had picked up on, and gotten them to quietly start positioning people into strategic locations. The Libby Dam, which was part of the local electrical infrastructure, would certainly be one of the first places they’d want to secure, so they could get it back online quickly. So it would have priority for any military assets that were mission capable. It still seemed like things were pretty well organized for less than 20 hours after a major EMP strike.

  As the motorboat pulled up to a dock a little north of the dam, two men wearing MP brassards came down. They helped Bill out of the boat, and one covered him while the other spoke briefly to the Ranger. After a quick conference, the MP came over and said, “This way, sir,” and they led Bill to a building that looked like it had been completely taken over by the military. Unlike the soldiers on the boat, these two were wearing Montana National Guard patches. They quickly and professionally frisked him, putting pretty much everything except his clothing and wedding ring into a small cardboard box, with an itemized receipt taped to it. They uncuffed Bill and let him sign the receipt. The way the two MPs went through the process, Bill was positive they were also law enforcement in their civilian lives.