Inception of Chaos: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Story

by Holden, J. J.

  David caught a hint of urgency in the man’s voice. “How are things out there?”

  The man let out a long sigh and craned his neck, stretching his back and legs. Then he replied, “Here’s the deal, officer. The state government, or one of them, has moved into Denver. They call the shots now. Rumor says your mayor is the governor. Other rumors say the governor’s now the mayor. I don’t know, and don’t care. What I do know is that I got orders to get out here, find any boys in blue who got cut off, and pass along a message.”

  “Oh?” Damn. That sounded bad—worse than David had feared, even. “What message?”

  The Trooper said, “The situation in Denver is fragile. There’s a thin blue line between hordes of hungry people and Denver. Aurora is a warzone, and that’s where I lost my partner. Going back would have made his loss pointless, so I kept going, but damn if I didn’t almost meet the same end. It’s bad out there, buddy. Mobs forming all over, and all of them hungry—and armed. They’re rolling right over small towns.” He nodded to the town behind David. “Like this one.”

  “Shit.” David grit his teeth. “What are the standing orders?”

  “Easy. Get your blue ass home. Denver needs you; the state governor needs you. The mobs from Aurora and surrounding areas have been getting bigger, and better organized. Better armed with every day that goes by, too. I saw at least three huge mobs along the way, on side roads. They must have stretched half a mile, easy, and they’re headed east. That’s this way, City.”

  David feigned a smile at the Trooper’s weak attempt at humor. “City” was just slang for “city cop,” as in, “not good enough to be a State Trooper.” Meanwhile, police like David called them “tail-light chasers” and glorified meter-maids.

  The Trooper slid his helmet back on. “I barely made it here. I have two more stops before I can try to get home alive. I doubt I will, but maybe you’ll have better luck. But you’d better try, at least.”

  David froze. “I’d better, eh?”

  “Yeah. Because those mobs I mentioned? One’s headed this way. It’ll be here in two days, maybe. That’s just a guess. Not much longer than that, though. And when they do, these ridiculous box trucks you got blocking the road won’t do a damn thing to slow them down. Rumor has it some of them have found a solution for their food shortage problems, too. Ever see Soylent Green?”

  “The movie? Yeah, why?”

  The Trooper swung a leg over his bike and settled into the saddle-seat. “It’s people, City. That’s their solution. That’s the rumor, and I believe it. It’s been almost two months since the trucks stopped rolling, and we’re the closest thing to a donut they’ve seen since then. Get out while you can—if you still can. Leave now, this very hour, and you might stand a chance. If not, well, I’ll probably see you in Hell. Take care, Denver.”

  “Stay safe, Highway.” David watched as the State Trooper drove off, heading south, probably intent on continuing east. He’d said he had a couple more stops. Fort Morgan, perhaps? He hoped his brother in blue was smart enough to stay put, if they let him in at all. Even if he didn’t wear blue, he was a cop. That still meant something, dammit—and that was why the guy had driven into the storm to find officers like him, like Orien, to warn them. To save them. Even if it cost him his life.

  Too late, David realized he hadn’t caught the Trooper’s name. For some reason, that bothered him almost as much as the news the Trooper had delivered.

  “Still staying?” asked a voice from behind him. Orien’s voice.

  David didn’t turn. “I don’t know. I have to think.”

  “What’s there to think about, sir? Orders. Direct, not some recording. You’re a cop; you follow orders.”

  David grunted. “Yeah…” He wasn’t so sure anymore, though. “But whose? Denver’s? Or Weldona’s?”

  “Colorado’s. The governor gave the order. David…”

  David turned. Orien had never called him by his first name, not while on duty and in uniform.

  Orien said, “David, I know you have mixed feelings, but none of that matters anymore. We have orders, now. What choice do we have?”

  David paused. Then looked away, out over the dawning horizon. “None, I suppose.”

  If there had been walls around him at that moment, David felt certain they’d have been closing in on him.

  51

  As the sun came up, Christine sipped at her mug. That was the first cup of honest-to-goodness coffee she’d had in the last two weeks, thanks to Fran’s hoarding ways and refusal to part with “the real black gold,” as she’d put it.

  Christine, after what she had been through the night before, had asked her mother to bend, just this once, and even Fran’s cold, often hard rules had to buckle a bit. As Christine had shaken in Mary’s arms for half the night, Fran had quietly brought out hot cocoa, leaving it without saying a word.

  And then, that morning, Christine found coffee on the counter in a dish beside the hated (for being empty all the time) coffee pot, and a note reading, “Glad you made it.” Fran wasn’t a soft woman, that much was certain, not at all like Christine herself, she mused. But for the coffee, she thanked her stars. The lingering headache she’d had since the day after the coffee ran out two weeks ago? Gone. It was nice. “Thanks, Franny,” she muttered into her mug.

  Mary grinned. “Can I have a sip?”

  Christine handed her the mug. Mary had been suffering even more, though she’d never complained. Christine had merely heard her cry into her pillow, some nights, and recognized the obvious cause. They’d shared two or three mochas a day for months and months, before the CME event, after all.

  A knock at the front door startled Christine. She hadn’t seen anyone coming up the drive. She looked at Mary, who shrugged and cocked her head, but didn’t make any move toward the door.

  After the third knock, a groggy-looking Wiley trudged in through the back door and started setting eggs and whatnot onto the kitchen counter. Fran would be up soon to begin preparing the morning meal, as always.

  A fourth knock, and Wiley looked up. “You getting it?” he said through the doorway from kitchen to living room.

  Christine shook her head and mouthed the word, “No.”

  Wiley shrugged and padded through the swinging door, across the living room, and opened the door. Christine noticed, though, that he held his right hand behind his back, just under the hem of his shirt, while his booted foot planted firmly a foot away from the closed door. Anyone kicking it in when he opened it would be in for a surprise when it bounced back into their faces.

  Had he always answered doors like that, and she’d merely not noticed until now? Or was this new, after yesterday’s four-man murder spree?

  Christine shook her head. That wasn’t fair. Wiley had saved her life, when he could have run.

  When he opened the door, he paused, then stepped back to let the door swing open. From the other side, a man Christine recognized came in, one of the more frequent volunteers for bridge guard duty. She couldn’t remember his name, though.

  The man smiled politely to Wiley, then his gaze caught Christine’s and he froze in place. “Chrissy. You’re who I’m here to see, actually.”

  She cocked her head. “I am?” In the back of her head, fear sped through her. People were killers. The guy with the lumber the day before had been an accountant or something, before the collapse, judging by the dirty suit clothes he still wore at the time of his death by Wiley’s hands. Wiley’s blood-drenched hands…

  The man broke her thought, saying, “Yes. Officer Kelley spent the whole night going from post to post, making sure everything was safe and no bandits got into town to cause trouble. Four of them, we think four, had escaped the posse. We never did find them.”

  Christine glanced to Wiley. She had found them, not David. But Wiley put one finger to his lips in the universal signal for silence.

  She looked back at the newcomer. “So, what do you want from me?”

  “Not what I want
, miss. The two cops, well, they got a visitor. That’s what the rumor says, and I got it first-hand from someone who was there.”

  Christine frowned. A visitor? Wife? And why did that matter, she suddenly wondered… “Who was it?”

  “Ma’am, it was a motorcycle cop—a State Trooper. My bud overheard the whole thing. The governor’s in Denver, now, and ordered all the Denver cops out on details to head back home. I guess they’re needed to keep armies of refugees and bandits the hell out of Denver.”

  “So he’s leaving?” That thought soured her stomach. Wiley was right—she didn’t know David all that well, but he was a cop. He’d been useful, and like Wiley last night, David had helped her without ever needing to do so, when he got her safely to Weldona…

  “No, not yet. The State Trooper said it was really bad out there. They were only hanging on by a thread, in Denver, but the mass of folks they kept out… Well, they’re headed our way. They’ll be here in a day, maybe two. The Trooper told Kelley that he’d better get his cop arse over to Denver right away if he wanted to have any chance of making it at all, at least alive.”

  Dammit. That was Christine’s first thought. David leaving left her town all the weaker, and right before some huge horde ran over Weldona. “He can’t leave.”

  “I don’t know if he can or not, ma’am, but I saw him go into town hall twenty minutes ago, and the HOA president followed him in there not ten minutes later. Begging your pardon, miss, but Cobi won’t ever come in before ten o’clock, most days. Not unless he gets urgent calls to show up. I reckon Officer Kelley called some kind of emergency meeting.”

  She paused. The news kept getting worse and worse. Was he telling the mayor what he’d learned, or was he resigning his temporary duties as Weldona’s chief of police? “Okay… But why are you telling me this?”

  The man grinned, then fought the smile back. “No offense, but I figure we’re all adults. I see the way he looks at you. Maybe he don’t realize he’s doing it. But if anyone can keep him here, you can. I figure, you got as much reason as me to want him to stay, on account of your daughter and mine being the same age and all. How’s Darcy?”

  Christine smiled, but it was forced. She couldn’t remember that man’s name, much less his daughter’s face. “She’s good. Thanks for telling me. I’ll go right away.”

  “Better hurry. Those two cops was out patrolling the whole live-long night, and I figure that, if he’s leaving, he’ll be quick about saying it. Then it’s too late.”

  Christine sighed, but she was already putting down her mug and standing. Wiley already had her flannel, and Mary’s jacket. He handed Christine hers, then helped Mary into the other.

  Christine said, “You’re coming, too?” She eyed Mary… Her friend was solid, a good companion, but not big on taking initiative.

  Mary shrugged. “Yeah. The guy’s right; maybe David does look at you a kind of way. Maybe I can help you convince him to stay. Wiley, you coming too?”

  Wiley nodded. “Yep. I’m not letting him leave everyone here to fend for themselves at the last minute, right before you need him most. I could get out, no problem, but not everyone will, if we get attacked and we aren’t ready. And I ain’t running,” he said, exaggerating the last two words like a stereotype of a farmer…

  The messenger didn’t seem to notice the slight joke at his expense. “That’s good to hear. Let’s go, damn it! Sorry, ma’am. Ladies present.”

  “I’ve heard worse,” Christine said. She flung her flannel on as she bolted out the door, then waited until Wiley and Mary had climbed in to peel out of the driveway in Fran’s car, leaving the messenger and her worried-looking mother in the rearview mirror.

  52

  Christine ignored the door smacking the back of her head as it swung back into place behind her, ten paces ahead of Mary and Wiley as she strode into the town hall.

  Cobi, tired-looking, sat in a chair to the right of the podium, while David stood behind it, talking to an audience of only half a dozen.

  David’s face was flushed, and he pounded his fist on the podium. “—and I’m telling you, the news is reliable. A horde is coming, one so big that Denver almost didn’t knock them back. From what I heard, it was bloody, probably on both sides, but they did beat the mob—and that’s why they’re headed here, now.”

  Cobi said, “But they did bounce off… Maybe they’ve been weakened?”

  David shook his head. “Bounced in our direction. Yes, we’re in their path. And yes, this means we will be hit, like I said.”

  Christine grit her teeth. David really was briefing Cobi and that idiot’s lapdogs, before even telling Fran. Before telling her. Wiley had been right about that cop. She looked over at her friends in disbelief.

  Wiley shrugged back at her and, as though reading her mind, he said, “Told you so.”

  Cobi looked over to the newcomers. “Ah, Chrissy. Wiley. Come on in, make yourselves comfy. We have fake coffee and real carrots, and please help yourself to either.”

  Christine grabbed Mary’s hand. It trembled in her grasp. She shared Mary’s near-panic, but did her best to hide it as she asked, “So, what are we discussing in this morning’s unscheduled town hall meeting?”

  Cobi’s smile faded for half a second, then was back and more plastic than ever. “Unscheduled? Not at all. Officer Kelley contacted me by radio and asked me to talk to him. I told him we could meet here and now, so here we are. It was all totally above board, I assure you.”

  Yeah, meeting as the sun was rising… It was all totally on the up and up. Sure.

  Christine smiled sweetly. “Either way, one of your people was thrilled to tell me all about it, or I might have been caught by surprise when Weldona burns.”

  Cobi rolled his eyes. “Drama. But anyway, we aren’t getting overrun right now. Our friend here was just telling us the news, which seemed important enough to discuss right away.”

  “You could have told everyone there was news.”

  “Not unless you think the town’s safety should wait until you’re done sleeping.”

  She froze, but managed to keep her smile on, mostly by imagining herself clawing out his eyes. David was an ass for bringing this to Cobi, instead of warning her first, but she felt foolish for focusing on that instead of the news. Her entire family was in dire jeopardy, along with everyone else’s, so she put aside her outrage. “No. By all means, don’t let me interrupt.”

  David continued, talking about the encounter the night before and his contact with the State Trooper. As he shared one detail after another, Christine’s heart beat faster. The room grew suddenly warm; her forehead dampened, and her fears loomed larger with each passing minute. It was hard to catch her breath, like the walls were tightening around her chest.

  Mary put her hand on Christine’s shoulder and whispered, “Don’t worry. We can be grateful of one thing, and that’s that we have people like David here to protect us. It’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

  Then, David revealed the extent of the problem—a virtual army of ravaging refugees would wash over them like a tidal wave in a day, maybe two.

  The room exploded in outrage, but Christine froze. Time stopped. They’d known it would happen eventually, but now it was real…

  David banged on the podium. “Silence,” he shouted. Only when the room settled into a tense silence did he continue, “There’s one more thing.”

  More? How could there be more bad news? Christine stared at David, willing him to say something good, something to make her feel better.

  David continued, “I regret to inform you of this, but it’s necessary. My partner and I have received direct orders from the lawful state government.”

  “Oh?” Cobi frowned. “Which state government is that?”

  “The one the State Troopers are following. That’s proof enough for me.” He paused, his eyes sweeping the room. Then, they locked onto Christine as he said, “We have orders to return to Denver. Immediately. I’m sorry, but—”

/>   Christine found herself shouting, “You can’t!”

  All heads turned toward her. More than one nodded in agreement.

  Mustering as much courage as she could, she took a step forward. “You made an oath to the mayor. Cobi’s the mayor. You’re Weldona P-D now. You have to stay here.” She felt like she was watching herself from the outside, and heard a note of panic creeping into her voice.

  David smiled, but shook his head. “I want to stay, believe me, but I don’t think I can, legally. I’m sure—”

  Cobi leapt to his feet. His face turned crimson, and his fists shook at his sides as he glared at David. “You bastard.”

  “What?” David blinked twice, then glanced around the room.

  Christine followed his gaze and saw outrage painted on the other faces present.

  Cobi said, “You sonuvabitch. You set us up, made us rely on you, and now you’re going to leave us when we actually need you? God, my dad was right about you pricks.”

  Red-faced, Orien said, “Hey, wait a minute...”

  A man stood, sending his chair skittering backward to clang against the wall. He glared at David just long enough to spit on the ground in his direction, then stormed out amid stunned silence. A woman near the back got up to leave, as well.

  Cobi raised his hands. “Okay, folks. We’ll deal with this betrayal, like we deal with all our problems—together, one problem at a time. For now, go home. Spend time with your families. It might be the last chance some of us get to do that, so be kind to one another. And, folks… Go make sure your kids know you really do love them, while you still can. Then, get armed, and get ready. We’ll reconvene this afternoon, and I’ll go over the preparations I’ll make in the meantime.”

  Christine stomped toward the podium, heedless of the remaining people who were now going the other way, toward the doors. Fists clenched, she shrugged off Wiley’s gently restraining hand and ignored Mary’s whisper-shout to keep calm. No damn way.