Our Survival: A Collection of Post Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thrillers

by Williams, Ron

“I just can’t stand the idea that if somebody’s got dad and is doing things to him, that we’re not going to be able to get down there until sometime tonight, then we’re going to watch for a whole day before we actually do anything,” he said.

  “We don’t have the numbers or the skill to just charge in, Cole,” Sally said. “You know that.”

  “I know,” Cole said. “Doesn’t make it any easier to just sit here and wait things out.”

  “Your dad’s tough, Cole,” Bonnie said. “If he’s alive today, he’ll still be alive tomorrow. From what your mom’s told me of the guy she thinks we’re dealing with, he’s going to drag things out for fun. Your dad will have to suffer through another day of whatever this guy’s got in mind, but that day will set us up to have a realistic chance of actually getting him out.”

  Cole picked up his empty glass, looking to see if there was even another drop of whiskey left in it.

  “Cole,” Bonnie said. “Your dad’s a Marine that’s seen combat. He’s got what it takes to survive this. So let’s not get ourselves killed in the process of getting him, alright?”

  “Yeah. I need to go for a walk.”

  Everybody watched him leave, but all knew better than to try to follow him. They still had planning to do, and he needed to deal with the stress in his own way.

  Another hour staring at the map and the dam mock-up, and they felt as ready as they were ever going to be. They made three copies of the route to the dam and their best guesses as to good vantage points, and also of Danny’s recollection of the layout of the encampment. They split up into three teams – the Chandlers, Wilkersons, and Meiers. Each team took their hand-drawn maps and notebooks, and set to laying out their weapons for a final inspection and cleaning.

  Cole came back in about the time people started putting food together. They wanted a good lunch before heading out, and needed food for the next 48 hours. Fortunately, there were a few cases of MREs and other survival meals stored in a crawl space above the cabin’s ceiling, but there were also still fresh vegetables and other perishables to be had.

  Cole didn’t say anything about what he’d been doing or where his head was at when he came in and pulled up a spot of countertop next to Jenny. He just slipped in next to her to start cutting up vegetables. After working side-by-side in silence for a little while, he finally leaned in close and spoke quietly.

  “This is the worst thing I’ve ever had to deal with,” he said.

  “I know. It’s not easy on any of us.”

  “Yeah. Especially not you. You’ve been through a lot more than me in the past few days. Some of it my fault.”

  “We’re good on the mountain lion. I don’t hold it against you.”

  “Well, I do. I mean, we were careful, but if we’d have just listened to mom and dad and stayed put. It was a risk we didn’t need to take.”

  “Then why aren’t you listening to Mom now, and just taking the time to do things right instead of right now.”

  “Because we both know it’s not in my nature,” Cole said. “I can’t do it. And because Dad’s in the spot he’s in because he wanted to protect us, to get Mom to us at least. I mean, you heard what Mom said he did for us, right? He’s terrified of water, but damn near drowned himself, dumped a kayak and ditched his life vest, just to buy Mom some time to get to us. You know, all my life, he’s swallowed his fear of water, put it all aside for me, so I could swim and kayak and do all this stuff I love. Never in my life have I ever had to wait on Dad when I’ve wanted to get in the water. He just stepped up and did it for me. And now, he’s waiting on us.”

  “He’s in the spot he’s in because he wanted us to survive, Cole. He gave Mom the time she needed to get here, and she did, just in time. We can’t repay that by getting ourselves killed by doing something stupid or half-assed and rushed.”

  Cole sighed and put his attention on the task at hand for a while.

  “Look. We all owe Dad, big time. Especially Mom. If Danny did see this Benton dude, and if he really is all she says he is. I don’t even want to think of what he’d do to her. Do you?” Jenny asked.

  Cole shook his head.

  Jenny lightly checked Cole with her shoulder. “Mom’s making sure she survives to make his sacrifice worth it. Let’s back her up in that, alright?”

  Chapter 26

  After Benton left, Bill felt like he was almost all the way back at square one. His pants and boxers had been left behind when he’d been moved. He hoped that the MPs hadn’t found the stash of matches and coffee that he’d hidden. He wasn’t sure what they’d make of it. Honestly, he wasn’t sure why he’d been keeping those items himself. Off and on he thought that in a pinch, if he could get his hands free he’d have a chance to throw the instant coffee into somebody’s eyes to give him a momentary advantage.

  In his new position, hands cuffed behind him, ankles cuffed around the pipe, he knew he’d have a hell of a time getting into the MRE Benton had left him. He’d be able to work the packets open, probably dump or squeeze the contents on the ground, then wriggle around to get his face into it, like an animal. Not to mention Benton had pissed all over Bill, so the floor around him was wet with it. The thought of eating food off that concrete turned his stomach almost as much as whatever Benton had been putting into his tainted meals. Bill was sure that soon enough, he’d be hungry enough to not care, but he hadn’t gotten to that point yet.

  He still had the small piece of brass from the zipper pull on his jeans in his mouth. He spit it out, and by a series of creative twists that put his legs into a really uncomfortable position around the pipe, Bill was able to pick it up, then get his hands close to the gap in the concrete floor he’d been using to grind the metal down. He put all thoughts of everything but that zipper pull out of his mind. He just kept on grinding and grinding at it, narrowing and rounding it.

  The pain in his fingers was excruciating as he worked. He’d done quite a number on his fingers just getting the pull off the tab. But the process of grinding it against the concrete while awkwardly twisted around on his side, his hands still cuffed back behind him all put a lot of stress on his arms, from fingers to shoulders. He was starting to seriously abrade his wrists when he saw the faint glow of distant light. He had to do something with the pick he was making. He set it on the floor and flopped around, trying to get to where he could get it back into his mouth quickly, but without accidentally rolling or sliding over it and knocking it completely out of reach.

  By the time Benton arrived, as usual with an MP in tow, Bill had managed to get the pull tucked back into his cheek. Bill opted to remain silent again, for fear of either sounding odd or accidentally dropping the pick from his cheek, or swallowing it. Benton delivered his usual, beating, using the cuffs to wrench Bill’s arms into painful stress positions, threats, insults, kicks, burns with a cigar. Not much of it was worse than the pain Bill had inflicted on himself in the process of fashioning the little piece of metal in his mouth. But what made that session even more bearable than the other ones had was the simple fact that Bill had hope. He was taking control of his fate. He couldn’t wait for Benton to finish up, not because the torture was all that bad, but because he wanted to get on with his work.

  At the end of the session, Benton said, “Let me tell you, Wild Bill. My heart really wasn’t in this round. I’ve got the county records in my possession now, and have somebody looking through them. I’ll find your little summer love nest soon. Go out. Pick up the wifey and bring her here so you two can have a nice little reunion. Soon, Billy Boy. Soon.”

  As was his habit, Benton left the little tea light still burning on the ground, well outside of Bill’s reach. Bill went through the contortions to be able to spit the zipper pull out where he could get his hands on it, and by the very little bit of light he had, got his first good look at it. The shape was very close to what he wanted. He’d just need to file it down a little bit more, and then find some way to bend a right angle into the tip. If his work on the pick
was good enough, he hoped to have a very unpleasant surprise for Benton the next time he came down.

  Chapter 27

  As soon as they’d finished lunch, eight people made their way down the Chandlers’ driveway towards the road. Each person had a rifle or a shotgun, and at least half of them also carried a pistol of some sort. Cole was carrying his father’s piece in addition to one of the hunting rifles. Sally carried the other hunting rifle and her own pistol, leaving Jenny with the shotgun.

  Jenny, Cole, and Ed Meier pushed their bicycles. The intention was that if things seriously went sideways, the three of them were to get back to the cabin as quick as possible and set up to defend it. Signals had been worked out – signs and countersigns – to keep from shooting each other in the dark or heavy underbrush.

  Bonnie Meier took the lead, with the Wilkersons flanking her. The Chandlers came next, with Mark and Ed at the tail. They staggered themselves on either side of the road, keeping to the very edge where they’d make the least noise from either kicking up gravel or rustling through the brush at the side of the road.

  “Remember, as you walk, always look ahead for a good spot if we need to get off the road. Between that, keeping eyes ahead, behind, and to the sides looking for trouble, it’s going to be taxing. So we’re going to stop every twenty minutes or so to step off the road, lay low, and refocus,” Bonnie told them. “The worst thing you can do is start daydreaming or walking without paying attention to your surroundings. We need to stay sharp whenever we’re moving, alright?”

  Everybody nodded silently. All of them had a lot on their minds, between the challenge of what lay ahead, their reasons for why they were in on the rescue, and the mental exercises of preparing for the chance they might have to shoot somebody to get the job done.

  “We all ready,” Cole asked when the quiet got too much for him. Everybody nodded again. “Then let’s make it happen.”

  They knew the risks of moving around in the daylight, that they’d be easier to see, but hoped that by moving in an openly armed, clearly organized pack, they’d deter any sort of trouble from home owners in the area. With at least ten hours of marching ahead of them, they didn’t want to wait until dark to start the trek, and then be looking for vantage points into the camp after the sun was already coming up. They wanted to get close to the dam in darkness and be all well situated and stationary before dawn.

  As the hours went by, eyes peeled up and down the road, into the brush at the sides, five minutes of rest for every twenty walking, the Chandlers all regretted having dumped the truck owned by the looters that had invaded their property a few nights earlier into the lake. Nearly half a day of walking would have been cut down to less than an hour of driving, and they’d have a vehicle to use for their escape. Nobody had any idea what kind of shape Bill might be in when they found him – strong, fierce, and prepared to fight and run, or busted and broken, or gravely injured. Even something otherwise as minor as a sprained ankle would slow them down immeasurably and seriously cut down their chances of getting him back to the cabin. The bicycles were and asset, to be sure, but if Bill had any injuries to his legs, or bad enough damage to his arms or body in general, he wouldn’t be able to pedal worth a damn either.

  Sally turned these thoughts over in her mind, and quickly found herself repeatedly beating herself up over getting rid of the truck. What seemed like a good idea at the time – hide any evidence that the looters had been on their property, was now a golden opportunity lost. On one of the rest stops, though, she thought back to what Bill had done on the lake. He’d put himself at risk of dying in the most horrifying way he could imagine, to give her the chance to get to the kids. That hadn’t been part of the plan, of any plan they’d ever come up with in case it ever hit the fan. Even when they’d been talking for too long about what to do and were getting ridiculous, they’d never thought of a scenario where one parent would have to play decoy to let the other escape to get to Cole and Jenny. What Bill had done was make the best call he could in the situation he’d found himself in.

  When they decided to dump the truck, Sally, Cole, and Jenny had made a judgement call, and did what they thought best with the situation they had. Besides, Sally told herself. That truck wasn’t something we had to begin with. We didn’t throw away something we had, we just didn’t keep something unexpected that we got. No net loss of resources there.

  Putting it into those terms, the truck being an opportunity not taken rather than a resource lost, helped her get her mind off of its loop and back on task when they hit the road next. Twenty more minutes of one foot in front of the other, eyes constantly moving as she walked, with five minutes of rest.

  Despite the breaks, the rhythm hypnotized the rescue party. They didn’t really notice the march of the sun overhead and to the tall horizon to their left. It was only when they started having a hard time seeing too far into the woods at the side of the road that they realized the sun was behind the mountains and that the shadows they were in were going to start deepening fast.

  Bonnie waved everybody to gather around her at the next five minute rest. “It’s a risk to cluster like this, but I think right now’s our best opportunity to do so. Let’s all gather round and take a longer break, and chow together. Danny, Cole, Ed, and Jenny. Get tight over here and get yourselves fed. The rest of us, north, south, east, west, stand guard until they’ve eaten and come to relieve us.”

  All told, the dinner break was a little over thirty minutes. Sandwiches and fruit eaten together did more for them than MREs on the march would have, and it left them all ready, even a little bit eager, to get back on the road and start putting more miles behind them.

  As they went along, they were surprised at having encountered no traffic at all on the road during the daylight hours. No vehicles, nobody on bikes or on foot. During their break, Bonnie speculated that the Army might be having a hard enough time keeping things under control in the population centers that they couldn’t get out into the rural areas and patrol. Or, they just may not have had the fuel reserves to run their vehicles for anything that wasn’t absolutely necessary.

  They had decided to skirt wide around the bridge over the lake, the one where Bill had been initially captured. But they had chanced sending a few people through the woods to get a look, and they reported that the Army camp was still there, but greatly reduced. It looked like it had just half a dozen people manning it.

  When they finally got close to the Libby Dam, there were no lights. They were not surprised to see that the dam itself had no power but had expected to see some generator-powered light masts, as Sally had seen on the bridge the night of Bill’s capture. This reinforced their theory that fuel was in precious short supply.

  Another hour of travel, and they got to the spot where they’d agreed to split up and get off the road to find their observation posts.

  “Do you suppose they’re out of fuel entirely, or are they just severely rationing it?” Cole asked.

  “I don’t know. I’d like to think they’re keeping at least a couple vehicles ready to roll in an emergency. Whether or not enough of those have come up to deplete their supply or not, I couldn’t guess,” Bonnie said.

  “If somebody gets sight of their motor pool, see if anybody goes out there at all. If any of the vehicles are operable, they should still send people out for daily checks,” Sally said, remembering some of Bill’s old routines.

  “In case it becomes relevant later,” Bonnie said. “Those old tactical vehicles don’t have ignition keys, but the common practice is to padlock a chain around the steering wheels while they’re parked. So, if you get a chance at the motor pool, you’ll either need to get the padlock keys, or a bolt cutter.”

  There was enough of a moon, and the group had been marching in the dark long enough, that they could make out a broad picture of the terrain around them. Taking the road any closer to the dam than they were would put them way too close to it. They didn’t know if any sort of night vision equipment ha
d survived the event, but the knew that once they were within a half mile or so, it was best for them all to stay off the road.

  “Remember what I told you all,” Bonnie said. “You’re all hunters, so act like you’ve got something good in your sights. You all know how to move careful and quiet through woods. Tread carefully and do your best to watch for trip wires. The next couple hours are going to suck. Take all of the vigilance we’ve had to use to get this far and concentrate it. But once you get yourselves set in a good place, get some cover and then set up your shifts so you can get some rest. Unless things get really active tomorrow, once the sun goes down, let’s all regroup back here and make our plan to get Bill out.”

  Chapter 28

  Once Bill got his lock pick shaped as well as he figured he was going to get it, he took a short break to let blood flow back into his hands and for the cramps in his wrists, arms, and legs subside. Even without the contortions necessary to grind down the pick, his position, face down with his arms behind his back, ankles around a pipe, would have been horribly uncomfortable.

  By this time, he was also hungry enough to not think about what Benton had done on the floor, and he opened the MRE, eating all of the dry goods in it, but leaving the entrée for later. After the humiliating experience of licking crushed crackers and dehydrated fruit off the ground, he started to work on the handcuffs. Working the double lock gave him the most trouble, because he hadn’t practiced picking one of those in college. He knew enough about the mechanism, though, that eventually he got it. He was sure it took him at least an hour of fiddling about, dropping and needing to recover the pick, and learning to feel out the mechanism before he was able to get it. Once he got that, picking the primary lock only took a couple of minutes, and he had one of his hands free.

  Bill left the other wrist cuffed and went for his ankles. Another hour or so, by his guess, and he had freed both. Once he was able to move about freely, he took a couple of minutes to devour the rest of his MRE. Fed and free from his restraints, blood flowing into his limbs, Bill knew he was still terribly weakened by what he’d just gone through, but the change in his situation, the control he suddenly had over his immediate future, filled him with life and vitality like he hadn’t felt in a very long time.