Survival EMP (Book 3): Solar Dawn

by Lopez, Rob

  “He’s just clumsy,” mused Lauren. “I don’t think he knows how to talk to women, so he puts on this persona of being cool and careless. Look how he’s following Dee.”

  April glanced over the rail. “He’s stalking her.”

  “He doesn’t mean any harm. He’s just trying to find a way to talk to her. It’s cute.”

  “It’s creepy.”

  “Give him a break.”

  “He doesn’t need one. Dee’s the one who deserves a little slack. She’s finding her place in the world. It’s good to see her giving her time for those women. Hopefully it’ll bring her out of herself. Last thing she needs is some freak making eyes at her.”

  “Packy’s more subtle than that. I really think he cares for her. He just doesn’t know how to bridge that last connection. But he will. He’s creative. Look at how he volunteered himself to drive her around the different settlements when she visits the women.”

  “He does that anyway. Guy’s got itchy feet. He only wants to drive around cutting deals and maybe checking out different women. He’s not the kind to stick around.”

  “I agree. Except he is sticking around. Why do you think that is?”

  “Profit. When he can’t make any here, he’ll be gone. What do you think of this?” April held up a baby’s black and white bodysuit with a hood and panda ears.

  “That is so adorable! And I think you’re reading him wrong.”

  “Who?”

  “Packy.”

  “Who cares about him? Look at these gorgeous clothes. I can’t wait to put my baby in these.”

  “Have you thought of a name?”

  “Jasmine. Or Kitty.”

  “And if it’s a boy?”

  “Haven’t thought of any boy names yet. I’m hoping for a girl. Daniel wants a sister. Like Lizzy, but younger, so that he can get to be the boss for a change.”

  “What does Scott think?”

  “He says he doesn’t mind, but I think he wants a girl too. He thought up the name Kitty.”

  Lauren smiled. “I see you’re bringing out his feminine side.”

  “Nah. He says he’s still going to teach her to hunt and shoot.”

  *

  “First thing you gotta do is watch where you take a piss,” said Red.

  Josh was unzipping his jeans to do exactly that. Awkwardly, he stopped himself. “Why?”

  “It’ll leave your scent here for days, and the deer will smell it. It makes them more cautious and they just avoid the area altogether, so you don’t take a leak in the place you’re hoping to shoot. You’ll be wasting your time.”

  “But I need to go.”

  “Then you should have thought of that before we set out. You can go if you want, though. Ain’t no point shooting around here. Your pa took patrols through this area. He’ll have scared all the deer off.”

  Josh got defensive. “My dad knows how to patrol quietly. He’s special forces. The deer won’t even have noticed he was here.”

  “Ah, they’ll have noticed,” said Red, chewing absently on a chicory leaf as he gazed at the forest. “Running a patrol ain’t the same as hunting. You’re chasing different quarry and looking for different sign. Guys probably left a piss-trail all the way back to camp. Ain’t no raider going to sniff that. But a deer will, and they remember. They’re smart. You gotta understand, you’re hunting them in their own living room. You leave the wrong scent or disturb it in any way, and they’ll know about it. No, we gotta go off the trail and scout where they’ve been – try and figure out where they like to hang out. Then we build a couple of stands. In fact, we’ll build one here first. Eventually they’ll return here.” Red held up the chewed leaf. “Their food’s here.”

  “Why don’t we just walk until we see one, then stalk it?”

  “You can if you like the exercise. That’s about all you’ll get. Hunting deer ain’t like shooting squirrels. I told you, they’re smart. They hear better than you, smell better than you and probably see better than you. This time of year especially, they ain’t rutting, so they’re super-cautious. And with so many humans desperate for food, the deer are feeling the pressure. If you’re moving around, they’ll see you and take off. You gotta be smarter than that. We’re going to be hunting the darned things all year around. We’ve got to think ahead and plan ahead, so we won’t be doing any shooting today. We’ve got to know this entire mountain. We’ve got to find where their favorite food is, where they like to walk, who they like to hang out with, all that stuff. After that, we can start planning when and where to kill them. And when not to. Don’t want to go shooting all our food before the fall and leave nothing for next year, do we? This here’s our territory, now, and we’ve got to manage it.”

  Josh simply wanted guidance on how to shoot a deer to guarantee a kill, and hadn’t expected a lecture on husbandry. “So what are we going to eat today?”

  “Raccoon, I guess.”

  Josh groaned. “I’m getting tired of raccoon meat.”

  Red laughed. “This winter, I would have killed for raccoon meat. You’re getting too comfortable, kid, complaining about what you’re eating. Just be glad you’re getting some.”

  *

  Rick coiled the half-inch black plastic tubing round and round against the plywood sheet, holding it down with his knee and feeding cable ties through pre-cut holes to hold the tubes in place.

  “What’s that for?” said Lizzy, watching.

  “It’s a solar radiator. Black plastic attracts the heat of the sun and warms the water inside, then you can take a shower.”

  Scott nailed the last part of the frame of what would become the shower-house. Together, he and Rick took the radiator on its sheet and hoisted it up to form part of the roof.

  “And what about this?” said Lizzy, indicating a sawed drum raised on bricks.

  “That’s for washing clothes,” grunted Rick.

  “Don’t we have that already?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So why another?”

  “Well, see, it’s part of a new design,” said Scott. “You put your clothes to boil in the barrel, you get in the shower, and by the time you come out, your clothes are clean.”

  “But they’ll be wet.”

  “That’s the flaw in the design. It’s for patient people only.”

  “It’s for your friend, Lucy Jane,” said Rick firmly. “We boil that sweater of hers while she gets clean.”

  Lizzy pulled a face. “She won’t like that.”

  “She’s got lice. She doesn’t need to like it. She either takes that sweater off or I throw it in the water with her still in it.”

  “You wouldn’t!”

  “I think he would,” said Scott.

  “That’s cruel.”

  “So is typhus,” said Rick.

  “I’m going to tell Mom,” said Lizzy, running off.

  Rick glanced at Scott. “Still want to have a baby girl?”

  “Sure, but she’s got to understand sarcasm.”

  “You think I was being sarcastic?”

  “That might have been too much to ask,” conceded Scott.

  “Never mind that, take a look over there.”

  Over by the cabins, John Yorkin was involved in a heated argument with one of the Clement brothers.

  “I wondered when that would happen,” said Scott. “It’s been building for a while.”

  “Yeah, that guy’s got a temper on him.”

  “Think we should go break it up?”

  “Don’t know. Let’s just see how it pans out.”

  Dee approached Rick, balancing Jacob on her hip. “Mr. Nolan, I’m ready for my trip to Black Mountain.”

  “Sure, hold on,” said Rick, keeping an eye on the distant argument.

  “It’s been a while since I saw Sonita there. I promised her I would visit her soon.”

  “I heard you. Just wait.”

  John Yorkin broke off the argument and stomped away to his cabin. The younger Clement brother walked away
in the opposite direction, into the forest.

  “I can have Packy take me in,” said Dee. “I don’t need to wait.”

  Rick kept his gaze on John Yorkin. “There has to be a guard with every driver. Just be patient.”

  Lauren arrived from the lodge, looking at the structure they’d been erecting. “So this is your device for torturing little girls,” she said lightly.

  “And boiling them, too,” said Scott. “In case we run short of stew.”

  “Have you guys never heard of gentle persuasion?”

  “Never trained for that. Have you talked to her yourself?”

  Lauren shook her head. “April’s probably better at that. Especially now she’s all maternal. Maybe she can encourage the girl to see it as a new game.”

  John Yorkin stormed out of his cabin with a shotgun and headed for the forest.

  “Heads up,” said Rick. “We need to get over there ASAP.”

  “Trouble?” asked Lauren.

  “Yeah, there’s a couple of heads that need to be knocked together. Forcefully.”

  “That’s our type of persuasion,” indicated Scott to Lauren as he dropped his hammer and picked up his rifle.

  “But what about my journey?” said Dee.

  “Later,” said Rick. “Your friend will still be there tomorrow, but I can’t say the same for the Clement brothers.”

  “I can go with her,” offered Lauren.

  “You sure?”

  “Of course. I could do with getting out.”

  Rick hesitated. “You watch yourself.”

  “I could say the same for you. That Yorkin guy looks like he means business.”

  John Yorkin disappeared into the forest, his pace unabated.

  “Come on,” said Rick to Scott, “before one of those idiots gets themselves killed.”

  28

  “I don’t think your husband appreciates the work I do,” said Dee as the Blazer bounced on the winding back road to Black Mountain.

  “He does. He’s just got other things on his mind,” replied Lauren. She could also have said that Rick found Dee’s work valuable as a source of intel on the other communities, but decided it was better not to let that slip. Regardless, Rick considered Dee to be an important member of the community.

  He just didn’t have the time or the temperament to mollycoddle her.

  Lauren chose to sit in the back, giving up the passenger seat for Dee, because she wanted to see how Packy would cope with the object of his affections being so close. Considering how much Packy liked to talk when he drove, it was amusing to see him utterly muted by Dee’s presence.

  “What’s your take on Rick’s appreciation of Dee?” Lauren asked him cheekily.

  “Uhm, uh, I, uh … well, uhm.”

  Lauren stifled her laughter at his discomfort. “Don’t forget to keep your eye on the road, big boy.”

  In his distraction, Packy was straying over the center line. He was also blushing. Lauren wished she could have taken a picture. When she got back, she would have to tell April just how wrong she was.

  Without social media, gossip was the primary entertainment in the camp.

  Coming to the end of the mountain road, they passed by the abandoned homes of Ridgecrest and hit I-40 until they reached the barricade at the edge of Black Mountain. Packy pulled up when the armed guards flagged him down. A big man stepped up to the car and peered inside.

  “You again,” he said wearily when he saw Packy. “What you got this time?”

  Back in his role as entrepreneur, Packy regained his brashness. “A few choice delicacies for the good people of your town. And for you gentlemen, I have a highly sought-after jar of honey, free of charge. Because I know you’re going to go crazy over it. You and this honey go together.”

  The big man wasn’t impressed. “Are you saying I’m a bear?”

  Packy momentarily lost his poise. “Uh, dude, bears don’t eat honey. That’s, like, just a kid’s cartoon.”

  “You’re calling me a kid, now?”

  “No.”

  “You’re trying to bribe me?”

  “No, no, no. You’re getting me all wrong. It’s just, uh, a gift, you know? Appreciation. That’s it. I appreciate what you guys do, and, uh, as a token, uhm, of my appreciation, I … got you something.”

  The big man stared at him, his face a picture of incomprehension.

  “Just take the honey, okay?” said Packy.

  The man frowned. “Hand in your weapons and go straight on in.”

  Lauren dropped the magazine from her M16 and handed it forward. Packy gave it to the guard, along with his Mac-10, and drove into Black Mountain, shaking his head and muttering: “Some people.”

  “Bears do eat honey,” intoned Dee from the passenger seat.

  Packy gave her a pained look.

  “I read about it,” continued Dee.

  Packy was, once again, at a loss for words, and Lauren felt sorry for him.

  This was going to be one tough romance.

  Outside Sonita’s house, Dee and Lauren got out. “I’m just going to see a guy about some stuff,” said Packy, leaning out of the cab. “So, uh, take care of yourselves.”

  Dee was already walking away, and while Lauren knew the message wasn’t really intended for her, she felt the need to reassure him. “Don’t worry about us. You do your thing and meet us back here. We’ll be waiting.”

  Packy gave her a tight lipped smile. “That’s good. Uh, I’ll see you both later.”

  As he drove away, Lauren wondered if leaving Dee’s presence was a relief or a torture for him. She made a note to maybe talk to him about this sometime. Following Dee to a small wooden house by the side of the road, she was halted at the screen door.

  “Sonita would prefer it if we were alone,” said Dee.

  Lauren decided she preferred it too. There was already a heavy enough atmosphere around Dee. Kicking her heels in a house with not one, but two depressives was more than enough to put her off.

  “I’ll go take a walk,” said Lauren. “Have a great meeting.”

  Not caring how Dee took that, Lauren wandered off, saying hi to folks out tending vegetable gardens in front of their houses. Their replies to the stranger walking through their neighborhood were guarded, but Lauren remained upbeat. Freed from responsibilities, she strolled the streets, curious about everything. The birds were singing and there was a scent of lilac in the air, along with the ever-present odor of wood smoke. The trees in the neighborhood had all been cut down, and people were sawing and stacking wood to feed the hundreds of little fires that were now the norm.

  Lauren made her way into the small downtown area. The bistros and stores stood abandoned, windows still broken from the looting spree of the year before, but outside the police station, there was a group of people. They were facing the station door, as if waiting for someone to address them, and they carried placards, announcing things like Asheville Out! and No Taxes. There was no shouting, but even from across the street, Lauren could tell they were restive and unhappy. She gave them a wide berth and took the next available side street.

  As soon as she did so, she encountered other groups. These, however, were heavily armed and organized into squads, each member sporting a green scarf tied to one arm. Most carried automatic weapons, with the odd machine gun or combat shotgun, and they patrolled in a military fashion, like soldiers in a hostile neighborhood. Lauren tried to look unobtrusive as one group marched by, and she was handed a crudely printed pamphlet by an unsmiling militiaman.

  The leaflet read: Citizens must register their firearms at the nearest police station. Failure to do so will result in confiscation. Automatic weapons must be handed in immediately. All residences and all owned land exceeding one acre must be registered with the county office. Failure to do so will result in residences and land being impounded for state use. Please comply with the instructions of state representatives. Government of the Carolinas.

  Lauren was stunned. Government of the
Carolinas? She looked around, seeing a pickup with a machine gun mounted on the bed, and realized it was imperative that she get back. Cutting through a parking lot, she walked briskly between some houses, hopping over a fence and almost jogging down the next street. She slowed cautiously upon spotting another squad hanging out on a street corner, sitting on a wall. They looked disheveled and slovenly, apparently happy to simply lord it over the neighborhood. Conscious of them staring at her, she avoided eye contact and strolled on by.

  “Hey, I know you,” came a woman’s voice from behind her.

  Lauren kept walking, her heart rate rising.

  “Hey, you! You’re the one who shot Luke.”

  Lauren glanced back. The woman making the accusation was short and gnarly, and Lauren didn’t recognize her, but she looked familiar, as did some of the other members of the squad. Maintaining her pace, Lauren watched as they got up, grabbing their weapons. Seeing all the faces close together, she had a sudden flashback.

  They were the same people she’d confronted back at the clubhouse in Charlotte.

  “You’re going to hang, bitch!”

  Lauren took off. There was a crack from a gun and the windshield of a nearby car shattered. Weaving across the road and hurdling a fence as bullets zipped by, she dashed between some houses and veered left to put hard cover between her and the shooters. Knocking over vegetable trellises, she skidded out onto the next street. Looking one way, she spied another squad who, alerted to the shooting, were already pointing weapons in her direction. She was about to duck back when she spotted Packy’s Blazer down the other end of the street, perched on the top of a rail embankment, ready for a rolling start. Packy stood near it, talking to some guy outside an auto repair shop.

  Lauren sprinted in his direction, yelling at the top of her lungs, “Packy, start the truck!”

  If he couldn’t make out her words at that distance, he would surely see the people chasing and shooting at her. Bullets zinged off the sidewalk and she snaked between the parked cars, using every piece of cover.