by Tate, Harley
“A machine.”
“You could say that. I’ve never let my feelings get in the way. Hell, I’ve never had feelings. At least not for years. But all this—” He waved a hand out at the world. “The solar flare, the grid collapse, it’s changed everything.”
“Has it for your organization?”
“I don’t know.” John rubbed at the stubble peppering his chin. “For the individual guys, maybe. Maybe some are like me and having second thoughts. But for Dane, my boss? For his employers? Probably not. At least not yet. In a month, perhaps. But for now, they’re probably still on mission.”
Not what Raymond wanted to hear, but what he expected. A contract-killing organization full of former military types hired by governments and big corporations to do their dirty work wouldn’t stop at the first sign of trouble. It would take more than a power outage to change the mission.
He glanced again at John. “When will they find us?”
John lifted his arm as if to run a hand through his hair, but stopped short with a wince. “With any luck at least a week. Maybe longer. I can’t say for sure.”
Raymond frowned. A week wasn’t very long. “How many?”
“No idea. Depends on how valuable this job is.”
Raymond thought about Emma’s testimony before Congress. How CropForward closed ranks and fired Gloria as soon as they found out she provided information to the government, even though she wasn’t set to testify. How the Seeds of the Future were worth billions in contracts.
The grid collapse might complicate issues for a corporation that large short-term, but the people in charge, the ones pulling the strings, would try to keep it afloat for as long as possible. As much as he hated to admit it, Emma was right. They needed John and his knowledge whether Raymond liked it or not.
He gripped the steering wheel too tight as he picked up speed, barreling down the road toward the Walmart parking lot.
Chapter Three
Emma
Emma held the notebook in her hand as Gloria rattled off the list of supplies. “Two cases of lentil soup, one case of chicken broth, two cases of tomato sauce, two—”
“Hold on, I’m still on chicken broth.” Emma finished writing the items and quantities on the list. Ever since Raymond and John took off for Walmart, they spent the morning inventorying the supply of food, medicine, and everything else Raymond and Gloria had the foresight to acquire.
Gloria moved the case of water out of the way and palmed her hips in frustration. “Those jerks on the road got half of my Costco hall. Half! I used all my savings to buy it.”
“What happened, exactly?”
Gloria relayed a harrowing experience on the road leading north out of Atlanta where Pringles darted off into the woods and a pair of opportunists took advantage, smashing the window of the Toyota Highlander and stealing half of the contents before Raymond intervened.
Emma shook her head. “Sounds like you’re lucky they didn’t get away with more.”
Gloria’s shoulders eased. “You’re right, I know. They almost got Pringles.”
The little dog perked up from his spot on his bed, ears pointed toward Gloria. She smiled. “If he hadn’t barked, we’d have lost him, too.”
Visions of the sporting goods store where Emma managed to buy one of the last pairs of sneakers amid squabbling and panic sprung to mind. “How bad were the stores for you?”
Gloria thought it over as she pushed a mess of long, brown curls off her face. “Nobody, and I mean nobody, except me and one guy at Costco seemed to care. Everyone else went about their routine like nothing was about to happen. But as soon as the power went out? Chaos.”
She reached for her coffee and took a sip. “By the time I reached the Ace Hardware near my house, panic took over. Neighbors—people I used to respect—walked out of the broken doors carrying grills and power tools. It made me sick.” She swallowed down another sip of coffee with a grimace. “It hadn’t been more than two hours. What must it be like now?”
Emma glanced at the door, thinking of Raymond and John in the Walmart. “We were trapped in that elevator for so long when the EMP hit, and then went to Zach’s—” She stalled on their former coworker’s name.
Gloria glanced at Holly sitting with Tank on the other side of the cabin, staring out at the mountain view. “You didn’t go into specifics before, and I understand it, but what don’t I know?”
Emma swallowed. “Like I said before, he was targeted by John’s organization. Killed in the middle of the day, no warning. We think CropForward is behind it.”
“That’s not what that monster said, and you know it.” Holly shot Emma a pointed stare. “He said the government was behind it.”
Emma pursed her lips. She still didn’t know whether to take Holly’s account for face value. Teenagers could have fanciful imaginations and in the heat of the moment who knew what she misheard. “We don’t have any proof. We have no way of—”
Holly stood up, leaving Tank and the view to stomp into the kitchen area. “He said the government hired them. That Seeds of the Future are supposed to fail. He said it’s a feature not a bug.”
Gloria stepped back, brow knit in confusion. “That can’t be true. Our own government wants to poison generations of people?”
“He said it wasn’t for us.” Holly crossed her arms. “He said it was for other countries.”
Emma thought back. “According to last year’s annual report, seventy-five percent of CropForward’s seeds are already exported to places like Africa and India.”
Gloria nodded. “They’ve been touting the Seeds of the Future as able to grow anywhere, even in poor soil and harsh climate. But it still doesn’t make sense. Why would they want to eliminate their customer base?”
Emma thought it through. “If their crops fail—if the seeds turn out to be bad—then all those countries will have to turn to someone else for food, won’t they?”
“If a country wholesale moved to the Seeds of the Future, you mean?” Gloria lifted an eyebrow. “I guess they would have to, but that would take years. Decades, even.”
The more Emma thought about it, the more it made sense. “Isn’t that always in the news? The US is lagging in exports for everything from agriculture to manufacturing. If we became the only major exporter with healthy crops, we would regain all our losses.”
Gloria eased into the closest chair. “This is all about money.”
“It’s more than that.” Bile edged up Emma’s throat and burned as she swallowed it down. “If the US owns the food supply, it owns the world. It’s not just about money. It’s about power. Control.”
Gloria’s lips twisted and she covered her mouth with her hand. “I might throw up.”
Emma agreed. If Holly was right, and the government was behind Zach’s murder, then John’s organization might never stop. They might be running until the United States was nothing more than a memory.
The cabin fell into troubled silence, with Gloria stacking food and Emma writing down the inventory. Holly disappeared to the loft above their heads and her bed.
As they finished the inventory, Tank stood, fur bristling across his back.
“What is it, boy?” Gloria tried to pat him behind the ear, but he shook her off, hackles rising as he growled. He stalked to the front door, ears tipped forward, lips twitching in a snarl.
Gloria hurried to the window. “Emma, get your gun.”
A shot of panic quickened Emma’s pulse. “Why?”
“There’s a man walking up the drive. I don’t recognize him.”
“One of John’s guys wouldn’t just walk up the drive, would he?”
“Who knows? It’s always better to be prepared.” Gloria hurried to the closet beside the front door and pulled out an old, rusted shotgun.
“Does that thing even work?”
Gloria shrugged. “Only one way to find out.”
Emma called up to the loft. “Holly! Get down here!”
Holly’s head peeked
out from the loft. “What’s going on?”
“Get Pringles and hide in the master bedroom closet.”
“Stop wasting time. Get Pringles and hide. Don’t come out no matter what.”
“Not until you tell me what’s going on.”
Emma frowned in frustration. “There’s someone here. We don’t know who they are, so you need to hide.”
“No way.” The teenager shook her head. “If there’s a threat, I can help.”
Tank growled even louder at the front door and Gloria turned toward the loft. “Please do what Emma asks. I’m worried about Pringles. I almost lost him once. I need someone to protect him.”
Holly frowned. “I’m not going to hide in the corner and watch someone shoot you like they did my dad.”
Gloria closed her eyes for a moment. “No one is asking you to do that. But please, protect Pringles. I need you to do that for me.”
At last, Holly clambered down the ladder before scooping Pringles up into her arms. “If you need me—”
“You’ll know.” Emma flashed a tight smile as Holly ducked into the master bedroom and locked the door.
Emma exhaled in relief as she reached for the revolver. “I wish I had more practice.”
“You and me both.” Gloria motioned toward the kitchen cabinet above the sink. “Raymond stuck the unused rounds up there.”
Emma hurried to find them. “How long have John and Raymond been gone?”
“Not long enough.” Fur bristled across Tank’s back as Gloria reached for the door handle. “How do we want to play this?”
“Assume he’s friendly until he gives us a reason not to trust him?”
Gloria nodded. “Let’s hope he’s just lost.”
Emma steeled herself as she stole a glimpse out the window. A man dressed in dark clothes from head to toe, no sign of a backpack, walked up the drive. In the time it took them to usher Holly to safety he’d made it within twenty feet of the front door.
Fear lanced her spine as she wiped a sweaty palm on her dress pants. “Ready?”
Gloria nodded as she turned the door handle. “Let’s do this.”
Chapter Four
John
John slipped through the propped open sliding doors a step or two behind Raymond. He shook out the tension built up over the course of the drive and took a calming breath.
Four steps inside the store and Raymond faltered, taken aback by the scene. He cut John a surprised glance. “I didn’t expect—”
John gave a curt nod. Lines stretched from the cashier into the aisle, weaving through empty clothing racks and barren cardboard displays. A young woman with three bundles of toilet paper and a pile of leggings narrowly missed Raymond with the end of her cart as she hurried to find the end of the line.
“What are we here for?” John attempted to cut through Raymond’s shock. After the scene at the sporting goods store, John expected worse. Low-grade panic wafted through the building like a stink rising from a forgotten trash can. “We should get what we need and get in line. It’s not going to improve.”
Raymond shook his head as if to clear it. “Right. Food first. Anything that’s left, I suppose.”
John pointed toward the far wall where the refrigerated cases stood. “We might get lucky with the cold stuff.”
Raymond seemed to agree, letting John lead the way toward the far wall. The hum of the generator grew louder and louder as they approached. A sign hung above a bank of open refrigerated cases, hastily written in black sharpie.
All meat $0.99/lb.
No guarantee on freshness.
No returns.
“How much space do you have?” John pointed at the sign.
“Some. I’ve got a smoker, too. If we rotate shifts to keep it going, we could preserve a fair amount.”
“Might be worth our time.” John lowered his voice. “Protein will be in short supply soon.”
While Raymond sorted through the meat, opting for easy-to-smoke cuts of beef and pork, John found a rogue shopping cart, abandoned in the picked-over clothing section. He wheeled it toward Raymond, one wheel wobbling and squeaking every revolution. Not a covert vehicle. John gritted his teeth.
He parked in front of Raymond, head on a swivel as he surveyed the other shoppers. Only one other person stopped in the cooler area. A man in his early twenties, navy hoodie pulled over his head, backpack weighing down his shoulders. Based on the furtive glances toward checkout, John pegged him as a shoplifter. Not a threat.
Raymond loaded about forty pounds of meat into the cart, leaving plenty behind. “I’d like to take more, but I don’t want to waste it.” He glanced at the checkout lines with the hint of a frown. “And we should save some for other people.”
John raised an eyebrow. Did he really think other people had the capacity to cook? “If you want it, you should take it.”
Raymond’s frown deepened. “I’m not going to clear the store. What if someone comes along behind us looking for the same thing? We should be good neighbors.”
John ignored the question, opting instead to focus on the mission. “What’s next?”
“Anything shelf-stable. Hygiene products, too.”
“Seems reasonable.” John followed Raymond out of the refrigerated section, past empty bins for apples, potatoes, and a handful of wilted heads of lettuce, and into the aisles. Most were picked completely clean. One forlorn can of green beans peeked out from beneath the bottom shelf. John fished it out and set it in the cart.
Raymond stared at the bare shelves and ran a hand over his copper hair. “I’ve never seen it like this. Not even when we had that massive snowstorm a few years back. Sure, shelves were thin, but empty?” He checked his watch as if it held the answers. “It’s only been a few days.”
A shopping cart rattled into the aisle, pushed by a young woman. A toddler clung to the handle, grubby fingers wrapped around the edge as he rocked back and forth inside the cart. The woman stopped ten feet from Raymond and John, mouth hanging open as she stared out at the barren shelves.
The little boy bounced up and down. “EttieOs, mama. EttieOs.”
The woman looked down at her child, eyes widening as the gravity of the situation washed over her. “No SpaghettiOs today, honey. Maybe they’ll get some in tomorrow.”
He began to wail. “EttieOs, EttieOs.” He put his little hands together almost as if in prayer. “Mama, lunch. Mama, lunch.”
Something inside John twisted and he looked away as the woman lifted her eyes.
Raymond reached inside the basket and fished out the lone can of green beans.
“What are you doing?” John kept his voice low.
“Helping someone in need.” Raymond strode toward the woman, can in hand. “We found this wedged under the last shelf. Not SpaghettiOs, but maybe he’ll eat it?”
The woman’s fingers shook as she reached for the can. “He’s not real fond of vegetables, but thank you.” Even from the distance, John heard the tears in her voice. “I should have come yesterday, but I was working at the auto parts store over on Mayfield. I had another shift today, but they fired me as soon as I showed up. Said without power they couldn’t keep us all. Their bank accounts are frozen and they can’t print me my last check.” She covered her mouth with her hand. “I don’t know what we’re going to do.”
Raymond motioned at his cart. “I’ve got some meat. It’s raw, needs to be cooked, but you’re welcome to what I have.”
She pressed her lips together and stared at the cart for a moment before shaking her head. “I don’t have any means to cook it. Everything in the apartment is electric.”
“What about a grill? Fireplace?”
She shook her head. “Complex doesn’t allow grills. The fireplaces are on the second floor. Saved us thirty-five dollars a month in rent to skip it.”
John felt for her, but her plight was no different than tens of thousands of others all across the country. No way to save them all. John pushed the cart forward, stoppin
g beside Raymond. “We can’t stand here forever. If you have anything else you need—” He let the implication hang as Raymond glanced each way down the aisle.
After a moment, Raymond reached into his wallet and pulled out a handful of twenty-dollar bills. He shoved them at the woman. “Go to another store, now. The Dollar General on the edge of town probably has a few things left. Maybe the Ingles, too. Buy everything you can. You’re going to need it.”
She stared at his hand like it might turn into a snake and bite her. He thrust the money out harder. “Take it.”
The little boy turned to his mom as she reached for the money. “Mama sad? Mama cry?”
She wiped away the tears streaming down her face. “No, honey, not sad.” She smiled at Raymond. “Thank you.”
Raymond grit his teeth, jaw clenching as he nodded in reply. He reached for the cart, taking control away from John before turning around and heading down the aisle.
As Raymond disappeared out of view, John hurried to catch up. It wasn’t like him to be bothered by other people’s decisions. Raymond meant nothing to him. He was the husband of a woman he’d been assigned to kill. Not a friend. Not a confidant. Hell, Raymond didn’t even want him around. For all John knew, the man was only humoring him until he tried to stab him in the back when he didn’t need him anymore.
If Raymond wanted to spend all of his money helping some woman who would be dead within the month, that was his choice. John caught up to the man as he headed down an aisle devoid of all but a handful of cleaning products. Raymond set a bottle of 409 into the cart and spoke without looking John in the eye. “I thought maybe you’d come to your senses and decided to go your own way.”
“Guess I’m a glutton for punishment.”