Our Survival: A Collection of Post Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thrillers

by Williams, Ron

  After a long night of fighting and fleeing, I couldn’t fight the pavement as it dragged at her while the truck picked up speed.

  She slipped out of my grasp, and I lay flat against the bed of the truck, my eyes raking across the unconscious girl and then, Liza’s corpse as Matthew sped out of the town square.

  My body finally gave way to great shuddering gasps, as I sat up and clung to the side of the truck.

  Rage, pain, weariness, and misery mingling inside of me and emerging in a feral scream, a wounded animal, my innocence dying inside of me.

  The sun gave birth to a new day in front of me, but all I wanted to do was lay down and give in to the silence and peace that death offered.

  We rode along Highway 129 for an hour before Matthew felt safe enough to stop.

  He pulled into a copse of trees along the side of the highway, trying to hide the truck from the roadway.

  The bullet had grazed his left leg.

  I took a shirt from my pack and ripped it into strips, poured water across the wound to clean it out, and applied antibacterial ointment before tying it off.

  It had left a significant gash, exposing the soft pink tissue underneath the skin, but it was superficial as long as infection didn’t take route. I worked mechanically, dry-eyed and empty.

  Afterward, he gathered me in his arms, and the warmth of him, the sweet ache of shared loss and grief, coaxed out soft tears of resignation.

  We sat like that for a while, unable to move on, but knowing stopping was not an option.

  Matthew was the first to break the silence:

  “Holly, I never told you how much I admire you. You’ve always had a quiet strength, a steady surety. You know what you want, who you are, and you pursue it with tenacity. But you lift people up along the way instead of stepping on them to get where you’re going. You did that with Liza, and you did it with me. You can’t pass a homeless man without going back to bring him a hot meal; you have to speak against injustice in the world, even if it’s not the popular opinion or the socially acceptable thing to do. You just gather us together and bind us to you, whether you realize it or not. We just want to be near you, to share in your journey, because you are so special, a brightness and warmth that radiates. I don’t really know how to tell you how much I have always loved that about you. I know this has been hell, but you got us out. You saved us. What happened to Liza . . . you did everything you could. Sometimes, the evil in the world overshadows the goodness, but you never give up. You keep shining. Please, don’t give up now. I need to know you will keep fighting, so I can keep fighting. Deal?”

  “Okay,” I whispered after a couple of moments to take in everything he had just told me, my voice husky with exhaustion. “I promise.”

  Matthew cleared his throat.

  “So, we are close. Should we ride out the gas in the truck as far as we can? I think day travel might be the best bet now. The roads up here look pretty deserted, and we can get back to the woods when we’ve both rested. I don’t know what to expect from those guys, but I want to put as much distance as possible between us.”

  I pulled out my map.

  “Yeah, I think we should stick to as many backroads as possible. Straight shot, it’s about 25 miles to Cleveland from here. Norman’s cabin is a day’s hike, 13 miles, close to Blood Mountain. No road access. He had it all filled in and let the overgrowth claim the dirt road when he finished the cabin 5 years ago. We are going to need to dump the truck somewhere to throw them off in case they come looking, too.”

  My mind was churning, looking for something to do, anything to keep away the image of Liza’s lifeless figure lying on the pavement.

  I drove for the next half hour, winding around the backroads as Matthew rested his leg and navigated, the map unfolded across the car as he pinpointed different roads to try.

  Spotting a weathered barn, we finally pulled in to an old farmhouse drive off one of the side roads.

  We drove the truck across the meadow. In the far distance, we saw a farmhouse and a new barn, built in back of the house with its own drive. I got out to scout the old barn.

  It looked unused, abandoned some years prior. Red paint peeled along the boards, showing the grey faded wood underneath.

  I pulled the barn doors open, so Matthew could park the truck inside.

  We closed the doors behind us and lay down in the bed of the truck, rolling up into my hammock and falling fast asleep.

  CHAPTER 9 (Holly)

  I shot up as the daylight faded through the slats of the barn, fighting against the hammock that suffocated me.

  I’d forgotten where we were and that I was enfolded in the fabric. My senses pricked when the grogginess lifted, and I realized Matthew wasn’t beside me.

  I had fallen asleep with my gun next to me. I reached for it before sliding out from under the hammock and peaking up above the bed of the truck.

  I saw a figure slip into the crack of the barn door and stopped holding my breath.

  Matthew turned to look at me and offered a sheepish grin.

  “I had to go to the bathroom, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologized.

  “It’s fine,” I said. “I forgot where I was for a moment. We better pack and go. We should get close to the mountain. We can hike into Vogel state park and get to the cabin through there. It will be a 13 mile hike from Vogel. I’m thinking about six miles from here to Vogel if we don’t get lost. The fading light is perfect for that portion. Then, we can stop and rest, wait for day for the hike up the mountain.”

  “Got it,” he replied. “Let’s get going. I found a pump in the back of the barn. We can fill our water bags.”

  Matthew helped me out of the cab. We both reached over, shouldered our packs, and headed over to the pump. The night was lively around us.

  I could hear an owl echoing through the trees in the distance, and the hum of the grasshoppers playing their strings. We were one day out, and I couldn’t wait to see Norman, to feel at home and safe.

  Mike pumped the water so I could fill our water bladders and bottles. Afterward, we packed everything up and headed out to highway 19, staying along the treeline near the highway but cloaked in the trees.

  The fading day was cool and pleasant, the mountain air and much-needed rest invigorating me. The anticipation carried me forward.

  I looked at Matthew and decided I’d finally tell him how much I cared about him once we reached the cabin.

  We could start over there, begin a life, build it around the three of us, and hopefully, find others who could contribute.

  “How many years do you think we will have until things get back to normal?” I asked after we had walked in silence for a couple of hours.

  “I don’t know,” he shook his head with uncertainty. “If it was another country that attacked us, I’m thinking they might invade. We are vulnerable, now. It would have to take the government a while to get the power grid back up and replace all the things that are fried. Right? I’m no expert. I’m just drawing conclusions from the information you gave us that first night.”

  We both contemplated the future in silence until we saw lights coming down the road.

  We shrunk further back in the trees. An old Jeep rode past us slowly, a spotlight shining out from the side.

  We both stopped and crouched down instinctively. I made a quick count of the men left in Joseph’s group.

  Matthew had killed two in the alleyway. The third, I had shot. Joseph and his man and James were all dead. Six out of ten. Four men left.

  Four men could fit in the Jeep. I had thought they would stay and restock. Why were they here?

  The Jeep rode on, slowly crawling down the road. The person behind the spotlight shining it left and right.

  When it got further away, Matthew whispered to me: “How much further to Vogel?”

  “We are almost there,” I whispered back. “About half a mile to the entrance. We have to turn off to the left.

  “Okay. Let’
s get further back and try to cut onto the entrance road.”

  We veered left and then straightened out again on high alert. The moonlight overhead glowing in patches among the treetops.

  It was slow going as our eyes adjusted to the night. The whistle startled both of us. It came from the road ahead. We were so close, I could see the changes in the shades of gray under the moonlight.

  The shadows of trees were absent up ahead as the ground ran smooth along a concrete parking lot.

  Matthew looked at me, drew me close, and whispered in my ear: “We should split up. I know the map. I’ll find you.”

  He cupped my face in his hands and met my gaze.

  I shook my head vigorously.

  No. No. No.

  Three times, but he turned and walked out into the woods to the right, away from our destination. I froze. His shadow blinked out of my vision.

  He whistled off in the distance, and the spotlight immediately lit up, shining into the thinning treeline along the edge of the entrance.

  There he was, the martyr, giving me a chance to make it.

  I looked off into the distance, deeper into the woods and up where I new the mountain loomed before me in the dark.

  I started walking quickly, picking my way over roots and through branches carefully in the dim moonlight.

  I went up and up and up into the mountain. I climbed further and further until I couldn’t climb anymore, and then, I lay down behind a fallen tree.

  I lay down with the night crawlers in the grass and hard, rocky dirt.

  I let go of the dreams I’d built in those small, stolen moments a few hours ago, and I slept.

  CHAPTER 10 (Matthew)

  The light blinded me and a voice ordered him to drop to me knees, hands behind his head.

  One of the guys came around holding a gun to my head while another handcuffed my arms behind my back.

  “Stand up and walk towards the light,” he commanded.

  The spotlight was turned off, I saw two other men seated on the ground near the Jeep. A lantern between them.

  I walked forward slowly, trying to prolong the inevitable and give Holly time to escape. The barrel of the gun prodded me forward into the parking lot.

  “Sit,” the older man said.

  He was older but commanding, not volatile like Joseph. Calculated. Calm. Focused.

  “You and your girl caused a big mess. I’m actually thankful that Joseph was a problem that I didn’t have to clean up. But my nephew James. That’s another story.”

  A grimace crossed his face.

  “The angle of the wound. She was a good head shorter than him. She had to angle it up. And only a woman would waste the time to leave him like that. Sleeping peacefully, all folded up. Wasting that time while you were tied up in the bar upstairs. Pity. You two would be useful. Good under pressure. Fast reflexes, rational decision making in a crisis. You have my compliments.”

  The man looked at me with hollow eyes, hollow but piercing.

  His hair was close-cropped and peppered with a silver gray that reflected the light.

  His face was a mask of stone, etched with fine lines, weathered with life experience.

  “You’re useful, though. Tony says your other lady friend told Joseph about the cabin. You’re going to lead us there. You are going to lead us there, or we are going to find your friend Holly, and we will cut her up piece by piece in front of you. I’m very good at what I do, Matthew. I am more than willing to show you.”

  I believed him, but I only new an approximation of where the cabin was. I had hiked the Blue Ridge and parts of the Appalachian Trail near Vogel, but the cabin was well-secluded. And even if I could pinpoint the location, there was no way in hell I would tell him.

  So, I thought, I’d lead him around the base of the mountain and, then, out into the Chattahoochee Wilderness. You could get lost along the Appalachian Trail there and up into the Blue Ridge Mountains.

  “I have your word you won’t hurt her if I do this?” I asked, feigning trust.

  “You and I are adults, Matthew,” he replied. “Don’t try to humor me. I will give you the option when we find the cabin. You can die in her place or she dies. Retribution must be paid.”

  “I’ll lead you there, and then, you can take me instead. I’ll exchange my life for hers.”

  That part I meant.

  “I’m Steve, by the way.” he added. “I think I owe you the courtesy of naming your executioner.”

  Chapter 11 (Holly)

  I woke to the feeling of tiny legs creeping across my face.

  The sky was a dark grey.

  Morning was coming and with it, light. I jumped up, wiping dirt and bugs from my face and body, my hand grabbing at the gun at my thigh.

  Still there. I sat back down on the log, facing the bottom of the hill I’d climbed. I reached into my pack and grabbed the last of my MRE’s.

  While we were going from house to house in the city, we had decided to save the MREs and gorged on the food we’d found in the cupboards instead.

  I polished it off quickly, drank from my water bottle, and headed out. I was to the west of the trail.

  All I had to do was go east until I hit the Blood Mountain trail. I gauged that I’d hiked about three hours up before falling asleep last night.

  I couldn’t think about Matthew or Liza. I had to keep going. I had made a promise, and I intended to keep it.

  I made my way east, picking through the thick underbrush and ivy, stepping through spiderwebs, and fighting with branches and brambles until I hit the trail an hour later.

  Blood Mountain trail . . . Grandpa Norman and I had hiked this up and down, plotting the course to the cabin from every angle possible.

  I knew it like I knew the cracks and crevices of my childhood home. I stuck to the trail. The sun didn’t show, though.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance.

  I pulled my poncho from my pack. The clouds rolled and fought with each other furiously before relinquishing the rain.

  It poured in sheets along the way, and I smiled. I was thankful for the rain.

  I could hike this trail in my sleep, but anyone following me would be lost. I found the turn off and headed further up the mountain, breaking away from the trail and climbing up and up and up in the rain.

  The dirt slipping beneath my feet. I clawed forward, feet and hands digging into the dirt and finding purchase in the rocky ground.

  For hours, I fought the rain and wind, but it was what I needed, to lose myself in the struggle against something as simple as the elements.

  This struggle made sense. This struggle wasn’t personal. It was just nature. It wasn’t evil or cruel. It was a part of ordinary life. Rain. Storms. The mountain.

  The clouds finally dissipated, and I could see the sun tentatively peek through the treetops.

  I finished the climb, stepping out onto a quiet flat path. The pleasant smell of freshness after the rain flooding my mind with memories of my childhood.

  The cabin was half a mile down the path.

  I stepped forward, finally home.

  But my contentment immediately turned to paralyzing fear as I felt arms from behind wrapping around me and dragging me back into the woods.

  Chapter 12 (Matthew)

  The night around me was peaceful, the stars blinked in and out behind shifting clouds.

  The woods were comfortably noisy, crickets singing, the low echo of an owl in the distance, the faint sounds of leaves in the soft wind . . . and the steady breathing of the men sleeping in the woods a couple of feet from me.

  I lay on the hard ground, the zip ties around my wrists and ankles cutting into me, my feet and hands swollen from the restraints.

  It was our second night on the mountain. Steve took first watch. I could see him leaning up against a tree, his shadow shifting to drink from his water bottle once in a while.

  I turned away from him and faced the dense copse of trees opposite, dreading morning and the intense
scrutiny I would get from Steve as I took them further around the mountain.

  “We’ve been here already,” Steve had grunted earlier that same afternoon. “That’s the same rock outcropping we passed about an hour ago.”

  His eyes bored into me, his gaze searching for any sign of treachery. I held his gaze, and he finally turned away.

  “I’m trying to follow the map in my head. I remember bits and pieces, but I will get us there. I want to make sure you keep your word,” I replied.