Blackout (Book 2)

by Clarke, Alexandria

  “Move,” Eirian ordered, picking me up from the floor. His knuckles were covered in Buddy’s blood. “Pippa, get Athena and let’s go!”

  As Buddy rolled over, groaning, the four of us escaped from the medical unit. Outside, Base One was unrecognizable. Men and women in real military uniforms flooded the entire compound. Half of them rounded up Base One’s counterfeit soldiers, who would face the consequences for posing as members of the Army. I spotted Kips and Rios lined up with the others, their hands bound with zip ties behind their backs. The rest of the military officers directed Base One civilians toward evacuation routes that led out of the compound.

  “What is all this?” Pippa asked, staring around in wonder.

  “It’s a rescue mission,” I replied, beaming with pride.

  “You’re doing, I’d guess?” Eirian said, grasping my hand in his as we joined the line to leave Base One. “I figured there was a reason Buddy pushed you out of the radio tower.”

  “What can I say?” I grimaced as my ribs protested our steady walk, but nothing could stop me from grinning at each real soldier we passed by. “I told you I’d get you guys out of here.”

  “How did you do it?” Pippa said.

  “Sent out a couple of broadcasts while I had the chance,” I replied. “I knew that there was a legitimate Air Force base nearby that was helping Denver out. I figured it might be worth a shot to get ahold of them.”

  “You’re a damn genius.”

  We shuffled through the gates of Base One. In the woods, the Air Force base had set up an organizational checkpoint, alphabetically by last name, for all of the survivors.

  “Pippa, go get yourself and Athena checked in,” I told the younger girl, pointing to the Airman who was taking note of those with last names starting with M. “Then come find me.”

  “What about you?” she asked.

  “Don’t worry about me,” I said, waving her off. “Go, go.” I kept a smile on my face until she left, then immediately crumpled. “I need to sit down.”

  Eirian helped me to the ground, propping me up against a tree trunk that was out of the way of the Air Force’s process. The day’s ordeal had taken everything out of me. I was exhausted, and I didn’t think I would make it one more step on my own.

  “I’ll get you some water,” Eirian said. “Stay right here. Don’t move.”

  “Like I could if I wanted to.”

  He disappeared into the crowd, and I stretched out to watch the organizational attempt from afar. After the civilians checked themselves in, they piled into a convoy of working Humvees, which led away from the looming walls of Base One and down the mountain face. A deep sense of satisfaction stole through me, momentarily easing the discomfort of my injuries. It had been mere days since everyone and their brother had told me that I had no hope of infiltrating Base One. No one had believed that I could do it, not even my father, and yet here we were. Not only had I gotten Eirian, Pippa, and Athena out, but I had brought Base One to the attention of people who could really help the civilians.

  “Georgie?”

  I turned around at the sound of my name and broke out a smile. My father had found his way down to the evacuation site. A pair of binoculars dangled around his neck. He had been watching this entire time. If I knew him like I think I did, he’d been watching Base One ever since I arrived here the week prior.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  He rushed forward and dropped to his knees to hug me, but stopped himself when he got a better look at my injuries. “Jesus, kid. What did you do to yourself?”

  “I’ll heal,” I said, patting his shoulder. “I did it though. I saved them.”

  “I know. I’m so proud of you.”

  “Where’s Sylvester?”

  “At home,” Dad said. “I wasn’t sure what the situation was going to be like out here, but you’ve certainly outdone yourself. Where are they taking everybody?”

  Another truck—old enough to have evaded the effects of the EMP—drove off with another load of survivors.

  “No idea,” I said, letting my eyes flutter shut. I was so tired. All I wanted was a real bed and a decent night’s sleep. “But it’s better than Base One. Better than having Buddy Arnold looming over their shoulders every minute of every day.”

  And then there was Buddy’s face, beaten and bruised, looming over my father’s shoulder with all of his teeth bared. Somehow, he had gotten out of Base One unnoticed. He yanked my father’s crossbow out of his grip and launched it through the trees. Before Dad could react, Buddy drew a long hunting knife out of its sheath and pressed it against Dad’s throat. A droplet of blood welled up beneath the blade.

  “Don’t!” I cried, struggling to stand and failing to do so.

  Buddy backed up as I crawled toward him, taking my father with him. “So this is the guy that murdered all of my men in the woods that night, is it? What perfect justice, Miss Fitz, that he happens to be your father. Poetic even.”

  “I swear, if you touch him—”

  “You’ll what?” Buddy asked with a laugh. “You can barely move. What are you going to do? Drown me in your tears?”

  “I’ll kill you.”

  Buddy’s lips tilted up in that lopsided smirk that I hated so much. “Oh, Miss Fitz. I’d like to see you try.”

  And then he drew the blade across my father’s neck.

  “No!” I yelled. Dad’s eyes widened as blood spurted from his neck. Buddy dropped him, and he fell to his knees in the mushy snow. I crawled over to him and pressed my hands to the gash, but there was too much blood. In a few seconds, it coated my hands like thick red paint. “Help!” I screamed, tearing through my vocal chords. “Help us!”

  “See, Georgie?” Buddy said, wiping my father’s blood off of his blade. “If there’s one thing you’ll learn from all of this, it’s that life isn’t fair. Get used to it.”

  I launched myself at Buddy, forgetting that I was injured from head to toe, that he was a massive man trained in several different forms of combat and that I was a radio host that just happened to have a few extra survival skills. Nevertheless, it took him by surprise. I raked my nails down his face, opening a new wound parallel to his old scar. He growled and threw me to the ground next to my father, where I fought to catch my breath. Buddy raised his foot, his boot poised over my skull as if he mean to stomp it into the ground as his final stand.

  And then a bullet lodged itself in the direct center of Buddy’s forehead. Pippa—Athena in one hand and a revolver in the other—stood on the opposite side of the clearing. She didn’t lower the gun until Buddy’s body landed splay-legged on the forest floor with a resounding crash. He was dead, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was my father, bleeding out from the wound in his neck.

  “Georgie,” he rasped, taking my hand and pressing it to his heart. “I’m so sorry for everything, but I want you to know. You have to know. I love—” He gasped as another gush of blood spilled from his neck. “I l-love…”

  He never finished his sentence.

  Five Years Later

  Pippa stood on the riverbank alone, watching the icy water pass her by. The current was sluggish and slow here. During the summers, this was where we spent the sunniest of days, swimming in the chilly water to cool off. But it was winter again, and winter always brought a few painful memories along with it. Pippa drew a lighter from her pocket, flicked it on, and lit a candle. Then she knelt down by the river’s edge and set the candle in the water. It floated on the surface, buoyed up by a small balloon of Pippa’s making, and sailed down the river like a ghost into the purple dusk.

  I stepped up to Pippa’s side. “You okay?”

  “It’s the anniversary,” she said, keeping her eye on the candlelight as it drifted down river. “Of their deaths.”

  “I know.”

  She leaned her head against my shoulder, and I put an arm around her. “Do you ever think about it?”

  “All the time.”

  She lifted her head to gaze up at m
e. “Do you ever feel bad about the people that you killed to stay alive? We considered them the enemy, but someone else could be burning candles from them.”

  “If I didn’t feel any remorse, I would wonder if I was human at all anymore.” I swept her blonde hair away from her face. Usually, we didn’t talk about these things. The past was in the past, and we were all keen to move on from it. And as far as I knew, there was only one person that Pippa had ever killed. “Do you regret shooting Buddy? Is that what this is about?”

  “I don’t regret it,” she said. “He killed my brother.”

  The memory of Jacob flitted in and out of focus in my mind’s eye. Pippa was the only surviving member of the Masons. That was our world now. We had fractured bits and pieces of other people’s families, and we tried to fit the jagged edges together to form a new unit, like taping the broken glass of a picture frame back together.

  “Hey, you know what else today is?” I asked Pippa, anxious to get away from the more morose subjects. “It’s your daughter’s fifth birthday, and she’s impatiently waiting for you to get back to the homestead so that she can open her presents and eat some cake.”

  Pippa smiled. “All right. Let’s go.”

  After Base One had been evacuated, we had decided not to accompany the rest of the survivors to the Air Force base. Instead, we returned to the ruins of our home. Camp Haven was nothing like it used to be. We had safely and respectfully disposed of the bodies. Then it had taken us months to clear out the debris. When we began to rebuild, we started out small. Eventually, Camp Haven was reborn, this time with new and improved features. Not only did we rebuild the cabin with a larger floor plan, but we wired it with electricity and indoor plumbing on our own. The process was slow, and it involved a plethora of foul language, but now Camp Haven had running water and light switches, which was more than enough to make up for our trouble.

  Denver recovered from the EMP at an infinitesimal pace. Slowly but surely, the United States was trying to get back to normal. A few of the blown transformers had been replaced with new ones. Hospitals and emergency services were up and running. Giant grocery stores had been replaced by modest daily markets, where local farmers and other small businesses sold their homemade goods to those less crafty. We visited these markets often. Camp Haven’s soil was perfect for growing organic fruits and vegetables, and we couldn’t possibly eat all that we produced on our own. We traded our wares for things we couldn’t get up in the mountains, like first aid supplies and gasoline for our generators. It was a new way of life, but after everything settled down, I began to realize that I was okay with this slower, more organic version of living. It made me focus on the things that were really important.

  “Mama!”

  A tiny blur collided with Pippa’s knees, and Pippa leaned down to pick up her daughter and swing her around in wide circles. Athena was the epitome of the Mason family’s genetics. She had bright blonde hair and inquisitive brown eyes, and while she resembled Pippa around the nose and mouth, the shape of her face belonged to her late Uncle Jacob. Like the rest of us, Athena had found herself part of a family that was not necessarily related by blood, but by mutual love instead.

  Eirian jogged across the homestead, his boots crunching in the fresh layer of snow that had fallen in the dark hours of that morning. “Sorry,” he said with a grin. “She got away from me.”

  I kissed him hello. “Thwarted by a five-year-old, were you?”

  “To be completely fair, she’s got really long legs for a five-year-old.”

  “Uncle Eirian’s slow,” Athena declared, head lolling about on her shoulders as she recovered from the dizziness induced by Pippa’s wide arcs. “He doesn’t pick up his feet.”

  Eirian pinched Athena’s pink cheek. “I let you win, kid.”

  “Nuh-uh!”

  “Uh-huh!”

  “All right, separate, you two,” Pippa said, setting her daughter on the ground. “I swear, Eirian. Sometimes I wonder if you’re five years old too.”

  Eirian proudly squared his shoulders. “They say to never lose your inner child.”

  “Mama, I want to open my presents!” Athena said, tugging on Pippa’s hand. “Please? Pretty please? Pretty please with Uncle Eirian’s dignity on top?”

  “Okay, she’s way too advanced for a five-year-old,” Eirian muttered. “Who’s teaching her this stuff?”

  Pippa finally gave in. “Okay, okay! Your presents are in the cabin, and so is your cake. Do you want some cake too?”

  Athena jumped up and down with joy. “I love cake!”

  “Who doesn’t?” Eirian said. He took Athena’s other hand. “Let’s go stuff our faces, lovebug.”

  I chuckled as Eirian and Pippa swung Athena between them, her feet rarely touching the ground. Together, we went up to the cabin, where smoke puffed out of the chimney and floated across the clear blue sky. The inside was toasty and warm. We stamped the snow out of our boots and shed our jackets near the door. Athena made a beeline for the kitchen, where a pile of presents sat on the table next to a homemade cake. She reached for the first one, but someone jumped out from behind the kitchen wall, scaring Athena away from the table.

  “Rah!” Sylvester roared, holding his hands up like a monster’s claws. “I am the guardian of the birthday presents! You shall not pass!”

  Athena recovered from her fright, giggled, and threw a fake punch at Sylvester’s mid-thigh, the highest part of his body that she could reach. “They’re my presents, you beast!”

  Sylvester pretended to double over in pain, moaning dramatically. “Oh, gods of thunder and lightning! Why have you forsaken me? I am vanquished!”

  He lay on the floor and flopped over, tongue sticking out of his mouth. Athena propped one foot on his hip and struck a power pose, only for Sylvester to flip over and tackle her.

  “All right, all right!” Dad emerged from the adjacent room, carrying more presents under one arm. Sylvester and Athena froze as he frowned down at them, one hand perched on his hip. “How many times do I have to tell you two? No tussling in the house!”

  “Sorry, Grandpa Amos.”

  “Yeah, sorry, Grandpa,” Sylvester added, untangling himself from the five-year-old.

  Dad smacked his surrogate son over the head. As he stepped into the sunshine streaming in through the open window to set the rest of the presents on the table, the light reflected off the shiny scar across his throat. Five years later, and I still couldn’t believe that he had survived Buddy’s murder attempt. Sometimes, I wondered if something stronger than luck and science had brought him back from his near-death experience.

  “So, Athena,” he said, leaning down to look the little girl in the eye. “Which present do you want to open first?”

  She pointed to the biggest one on the pile. “That one!”

  “That one’s from me,” I told her. “I hope you like it.”

  Athena ripped away the brown paper to reveal a bow that I had made by hand and a quiver of arrows. The weapon was fit to her size. It would teach her the basics of handling a compound bow in the future, but she couldn’t do any real damage with it.

  “Cool!” she exclaimed, tugging experimentally on the string.

  “Really?” Pippa said to me. “A freaking bow?”

  “What?” I replied innocently. “She’s a Greek goddess. She needs a weapon. Besides, the arrow tips are padded.”

  “Open mine next,” Eirian said, sliding a present across the table toward Athena.

  Sylvester shoved Eirian out of the way. “No, do mine! It’s better than Uncle Eirian’s, I promise.”

  “Everyone relax,” Dad said, raising his hands to command silence. “Everyone’s presents are awesome… but you all know that Athena’s going to like what I got her the best.”

  The table exploded in a roar of playful arguments. I grinned, leaning into Eirian as he made his case, and watched my found family duke it out, each catering to a five-year-old who had them all wrapped around her little finger. Li
fe wasn’t perfect. All of us had lost people and things that were important to us, but we pushed through. We made it out of the foggy depression together, and the chorus of laughs stitched together the frayed pieces of our mending hearts.