EMP Antediluvian Courage : Book 3

by S A Ison

  EMP ANTEDILUVIAN

  COURAGE

  Book 3

  S.A. ISON

  EMP ANTEDILUVIAN COURAGE

  Copyright © 2019 by S.A. Ison All rights reserved.

  Book Design by Elizabeth Mackey

  Book Edited by Laurel C. Kriegler

  All rights Reserved. Except as under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a data base or retrieval system, without prior written permission of S.A. Ison

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the production of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons – living or dead- is entirely coincidental.

  OTHER BOOKS BY S.A. ISON

  BLACK SOUL RISING

  INOCULATION ZERO WELCOME TO THE STONE AGE

  BOOK ONE

  INOCULATION ZERO WELCOME TO THE AGE OF WAR

  BOOK TWO

  EMP ANTEDILUVIAN PURGE

  BOOK ONE

  EMP ANTEDILUVIAN FEAR

  BOOK TWO

  POSEIDON RUSSIAN DOOMSDAY

  BOOK ONE

  EMP PRIMEVAL

  PUSHED BACK A TIME TRAVELER’S JOURNAL

  BOOK 1

  THE RECALCITRANT ASSASSIN

  BREAKING NEWS

  FUTURE RELEASES

  PUSHED BACK THE TIME TRAVELER’S DAUGHTER

  BOOK 2

  POSEIDON RUBBLE AND ASH

  BOOK TWO

  THE HIVE

  SMOKEHOUSE SMILES

  SHATTERED MIND

  BIO VENGEANCE

  Other books by S.A. Ison under the name: Stefany White

  Dragon’s Fortune

  Alaskan Heat

  Future Releases

  The Seeding

  The Butler Did It

  Little White Lies

  For My Family

  CHAPTER ONE

  President Audrey sat in his favorite position at his desk: feet up, tie off, and a cigar in his teeth. He lifted his rump and ripped a fart that was likely to burn the upholstery. His watery blue eyes held malicious glee as he looked at the two men before him. A tall, mountainous man, Morty Greer and Darrel Mopes, who had the confused, wall-eyed look of a flounder. Both men sported greasy hair and unkempt beards. Neither one bright nor a brilliant moment between them, but Darrel was the smarter of the two.

  “I need you boys ta go door ta door. We’re startin’ ta get low on supplies. That dang Andy died with the secret location of his stash, and that, boys, was the majority of the combined stores of the town. I got a few of my boys out lookin’ now, but I want more,” he said, puffing like an engine. He was gratified to see both men nodding enthusiastically.

  “How rough can we git?” asked Darrel, who was scratching at his beard, his dark, dirty nails rough and tatty.

  “Well, I don’t want you to kill ’em or nothin’ like that. But you can maybe shove ’em a little and threaten. You know, that kinda thing,” Audrey said judiciously, his mouth puckered up in thought. He lifted his rump again and ripped out another fart. He held his cigar aloft, afraid perhaps his ass might catch fire. Got to stop eating all those beans, he thought.

  “Sure thang, Mr. President. We’ll get you what you need,” Morty said, a large grin skittering across his homely face, his large teeth grimy and scummy.

  “Good. Now you boys separate, start here in town an work your way out. Don’t take too much, just a little from each house, that’ll do it,” Audrey said, a sausage-like index finger raised in emphasis. He grinned hugely, his crooked yellow teeth gleaming in the low light of his office. Both men nodded once more and left.

  He sighed heavily in satisfaction. It sure was good to be president. People did what you told them, didn’t argue, and, most of the time, were glad to do it. Except for Yates. His face shifted and a frown settled on his florid, heavy features. He was glad the temperature was starting to dip. It had been a hellacious summer without air conditioning. Thinking about it made him begin to sweat, and he pulled a filthy bandana from his back pocket and wiped at his face.

  He let go a long stream of cigar smoke and held the stogy between his sausage fingers. He rolled it contemplatively, watching the cherry glow. Yates was starting to become a problem.

  The sheriff wasn’t going along with the program, and it seemed at times that he was encumbering it. He needed Yates to keep all the yahoos at bay, but Yates was giving a lot of their precious supplies away. This, in the wake of Anderson’s death. They needed to find that stash, and fast. Granted, he had plenty squirreled away here at the office and at his home, but you could never have too much.

  It seemed to him that he’d had to make all the hard decisions. It was good that he’d had the foresight to put some of those supplies away in the beginning. In fact, if it wasn’t for him, they’d have been a day late and a dollar short when this whole thing started. Wasn’t it he who’d first realized what was going on?

  He’d come up with the plan to rid their town of the undesirables. Wasn’t it he who’d set up the service for Gerhard’s farm, so now they had produce coming in? Wasn’t it his idea to put the misfits and sympathizers in the coal mine? Work them for the necessary coal? They didn’t even have to feed them much.

  Audrey had to think hard to find anything Yates had provided other than to act as hired gun. This would bear pondering. Perhaps after his afternoon nap. He got up and stretched, a rapid fire of small farts filling the office. He leaned over and placed his dying cigar on the ashtray. He walked over to his couch, where he’d spent many a night. The mustard-yellow couch now contoured to his bulk as he sank down into it.

  He yawned hugely and stretched. Being an administrator and president was taxing. It had always taxed him as the mayor, but now he had his own small fiefdom to run. As he shifted his large rump on the couch, trying to find that sweet spot, he thought he might get one of those gals from the coal mine and have them come spruce up his office and his home. He yawned widely once more and fell into slumber.

  ֍

  It was well over a week since Clay had found the child. The whole house seemed unable to move past the child’s death. It had been heartbreaking, to be so close to perhaps saving it. Yet the boy had been too far gone with starvation, his small body unable to sustain that precious spark of life. Their own children, Angela and Monroe, were thriving however, and for that Harry was grateful. Too much suffering had already happened, and there was little to nothing he or his friends could do about it. The frustration of it hung on his shoulders like Marley’s chains. He couldn’t do it alone, nor with the few men that were here.

  It would take a lot more people, and they all needed to plan and work together. The intel they needed was vital if they were going to rid their town of these bastards. Yet, he and his friends were far from town. A blessing, but it also stifled the process of fighting the mayor and his people. Harry knew many of the folks who lived in Beattyville, but he’d been gone so long he wasn’t sure he knew them as well as he should. Telling friend from foe was vital. Any mistake in that judgement was deadly.

  They hoped for a visit from Alan Tate; the teenager was long overdue. The boy was innocuous enough to travel around Beattyville unmolested.

  Harry looked up as Marilyn came out to the porch. She had a scarf around her hair and a smudge of dust on her cheek. He smiled at her. “Where is Monroe?”

  “He’s with Earl, helping him in the garden.” She grinned and then laughed, shaking her head.

  “Yeah, he loves Earl and Earl loves him. Those two are darn near inseparable.” Harry laughed and shook his head to
o, his eyes crinkling at the sides.

  “I’m glad, though I wish he’d known his father, and his father him. But I guess Moses is watching him from heaven.” She sighed and sat down beside Harry on the swing.

  “I almost think Monroe keeps Earl on his toes. Before all this happened, Earl’s greatest excitement was at the bar in town, I think.” Harry chuckled, and bumped Marilyn on her shoulder with his.

  “I think it’s nice they have each other. Earl is so patient with him. Children show us what’s really important in life.” She smiled.

  Willene came out to the porch, a tray of sweet tea in her hands. Everyone took a glass, then she sat down in the glider. “Just got Angela down for a nap. She’s growing so fast.” She wiped the hair out of her eyes.

  “Where are Katie and Clay?” Harry asked.

  “They went out on patrol together,” Willene said, sipping her tea and rocking back and forth, her legs out before her.

  The days were becoming crisp. Harry could feel the temperature starting to drop during the day and getting colder at night. The leaves were beginning to tinge with yellows and reds around the edges. Most days were hot, sometimes, the temperature dropped. It didn’t seem like it had nearly been three months since the EMP. It was a weird combination of things going so slow yet passing quickly. Relativity, he guessed. He wondered what Einstein would think of all this. He smiled at the thought.

  “Those two are getting close.” Marilyn smiled, her head rocking from side to side.

  “Yes, they are. I’m not surprised. Their jobs had kept them too busy for a relationship. They have all the time in the world now.” Willene smiled.

  “I think it’s nice. It feels like hope when something nice has come out of all this mess. Hope and life going on. I just wish the folks in the coal mine could be freed and the KKK put down once and for all,” Marilyn said softly, her fingers tracing around the top of her glass.

  “We’ll get there, Marilyn. It’s just going to take time getting everyone on the same page. Being so scattered, having little to no transportation is a hindrance. We’re the lucky ones, though. It would take a lot of effort on the Mayor’s part to come out this way now. Gas, whatever is left of it, is going fast, and will be unusable in about six months. We’ll have to get this settled soon. But we will, I promise,” Harry said, patting her hand.

  “Well, I’m sure we can put them down once we can get organized. The mayor isn’t all that bright,” Willene said, and raised her glass in mock salute, eliciting a laugh from Harry and Marilyn.

  “Do we have any big chores that need being done?” Harry asked.

  “No, not really. Most of the garden has been canned. The cabbages, pumpkins, and all that will remain until later. Earl and Monroe are getting the last of the beans and tomatoes, and a few potatoes for dinner tonight. How about the wood situation?” Willene asked.

  “It’s good. Boggy is out there now, checking on the downed trees. He wanted to bring in a few large chunks. He was thinking about whittling something. The wood pile is stacked. I almost don’t know what to do with this idle time.” Harry grinned.

  Marilyn laughed and nudged Harry in the swing. “How about relax, Harry? There is little enough of that.” She patted his hand.

  He grinned down at her, his eyes caressing her face. He didn’t know why, but she was comforting to him and made him feel peaceful. They always sat by each other on the swing now, he noticed, gravitating to the each other.

  He had to examine his feelings for her. He did care about her and Monroe. His thoughts drifted to Franziska Gnodtke, the woman he’d left behind in Germany. His girlfriend. He knew he’d never see her again. She was lost to him, and even now it was difficult to conjure up her face. But here beside him was a wonderful woman he’d known most of his life. He was getting to know her all over again as a woman and a mother. She was sweet and quiet, but not boring. He’d seen the ferocious mother in her when Monroe was attacked.

  “What?” he asked, having missed what his sister had said.

  “I said, do you think you and Earl will take another trip into town?”

  “Yes. I’m thinking about going to see Wilber, Alan’s grandfather. I think that, if we can coordinate with him, perhaps we can make a strike and possibly end this takeover. Get those people out of the coal mine.”

  “I hope Wilber can help. He’s old, but he also knows a lot of people. To get those people free, my loving God, that would be wonderful,” Marilyn said.

  “At least the children are out of the coal mine and safe. If we can coordinate strikes in different places at the same time, we can maybe surprise the mayor’s people and take them out. I’ve been racking my brain. If the people from the coal mine can hit their guards, say, when they are heading back for the night, that’s one strike, or if we can hit the coal mine and free the people, get them away, then maybe some of them can help us. If Wilber and Boney’s friends can rally, perhaps me, Clay, Boggy and Earl can join them and put the mayor and his people down once and for all. Harvesting will be over soon. This has to happen while most of the people are out of the mine.”

  “Remember that many of them will be extremely weak, brother. They may not be up for the fight. I’d volunteer to go with you, but I think I should stay back and help Katie and Marilyn protect this place,” Willene said.

  “Yes. I agree you should stay here because, should something happen, they’ll need you and you will need them. I’ll keep that in mind with regard to the strength of those in the mine. I’ll make my plans on the assumption that there will be no help from that quarter,” Harry said solemnly.

  “Well, brother, you’d best plan very well. You won’t get a second chance to surprise them,” Willene said, and drew a long drink from her tea.

  Everyone jerked at the shot that rang from the back of the house. It was too close. Harry, Willene, and Marilyn stood, listening. They looked at each other. As one, they turned, going into the house through the kitchen door.

  As they came out the back door, Harry has his Glock in hand and Willene the shotgun. They walked out to the back of the large farm house. Up toward the back of the yard, Earl and Monroe stood in the garden, Earl’s arm around the boy, a long gun in his hands. He looked down to Harry and shrugged. When Marilyn came up, Earl pushed the boy toward his mother, but Monroe clung to him.

  “Sounds like it came from up there, by Boggy,” Earl called, nodding toward the woods.

  It wasn’t uncommon these days for people to be wandering in the woods, looking for food. Harry and his friends had had several run-ins with such people, some ending up dead. Some were sent on their way, but only left with the threat of violence. Most people on the road would soon die of starvation. Harry’s group was hypervigilant these days.

  Harry and Earl walked toward the woods while Willene and Marilyn went back into the house with Monroe. Quietly they separated, putting thirty feet between them. They listened, their eyes scanning back and forth. Harry gave Earl the hand signal to advance slowly.

  Earl held his rifle up and ready, though his finger was outside the guard. Harry smiled. Earl had come a long way since the EMP. He was more confident of himself, and protective of the group. He had learned military discipline and attention to detail, both skills vital for survival. Harry’s gun was up too, his eyes scanning for potential threats. He knew Boggy was out here, and Boggy had nearly been killed before.

  That time, Boggy had gone fishing a little west of the property. He’d been jumped, and nearly murdered. One of the men who’d attacked Boggy had had a hand in the murder of the Santo family – Angela’s parents and older brother, Robert. Thankfully Boggy had killed both men. And it had become essential to be armed in this new, violent world.

  Now no one left the house without a weapon. Monroe had been taught to never touch a firearm. The household was also mindful of Angela’s little hands, and either kept the weapons on them, up high, unloaded, or locked up. No one wanted a tragic accident.

  Ahead, a wavering melody of wh
istling slipped through the forest. Harry recognized it as Boggy. His shoulders relaxed and he lowered his weapon, though he didn’t holster it just yet. He looked over to Earl, who had also lowered his rifle. Walking farther and deeper into the woods, near where they had dropped trees for the next few years of firewood, they found Boggy looking down at something, whistling happily. A branch cracked under Harry’s foot and Boggy’s head snapped up, his dark eyes quickly locating Harry. A slow smile spread across his thin face.

  “Sorry, I done firgot about that shot, shoulda come ta tell ya.” Boggy grinned and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

  Harry holstered his gun and walked the rest of the way to see what Boggy was looking at. Earl was making his way over, though his prosthetic leg hindered him a bit in the deep brush. Rounding a low bush that had been divided by one of the falling trees, Harry found a large ten-point buck on the ground before him, a shot through its eye.

  “Dang, Boggy, that’s some shootin’. And that’s a big ’un.” Earl laughed, taking the antlers in hand and lifting the animal’s head off the leafy ground. It was an impressive buck. The venison would be good eating, and good meat for the winter. Willene would can most of the meat, but Harry thought perhaps he and Earl might make some jerky too.

  All three men turned when they heard someone coming through the woods to their east. Harry thought perhaps it would be Clay and Katie coming, as he and Earl had, to investigate the shot. Boggy had bagged a turkey a month or so previously. It would seem Boggy had become their hunter. Clay broke through the trees, Katie behind him. Harry saw that Clay’s gun had been holstered.

  A broad smile curved on Clay’s face when he saw the buck. “Wow, who shot this big boy?”

  “I did.” Boggy grinned shyly.

  “Damn, boy, that’s some fine shooting.” Clay laughed and patted Boggy on the shoulder with his massive hand.