Survive the Day Boxset: EMP Survival in a Powerless World

by William Stone

  “Mom!”

  The fog lifted from Wren’s mind at the panicked shout, and she turned around to see Zack with his ear to Doug’s nose. “He’s not breathing.” Her son hyperventilated, looking from his father to his mother, uncertain of what to do.

  “You’ll have to give him CPR, Zack,” Nathan said, his eyes scanning the road for any signs for a doctor’s office or medical facility. “You need to tilt his head back by lifting his chin to open his airway.”

  Zack shook his head, tears streaming down his face. “I-I can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t.”

  Nathan pulled off to the side of the road, unbuckling his seat belt in the process, and jumped from the driver’s seat and into the back. “You drive.”

  Wren climbed behind the wheel and shifted the car back into drive, peeling out in the grass and gravel as she floored the accelerator. She flitted her eyes between the rearview, where Nathan pumped his hands over Doug’s chest, and the road, searching for any sign of help. Suddenly, the horizon offered the small outline of buildings. “We’ve got a town coming up!”

  “We’ll have to stop there,” Nathan said, puffing another breath into Doug’s lungs. “He’s not going to last with me working on him like this.”

  The speedometer tipped eighty. Adrenaline raced through her veins with the same high-octane intensity as the fuel in the van. The town’s welcome sign passed in a blur as the first few buildings came into view. She slowed, looking for any signage for the hospital, but soon discovered the town was nothing more than a small strip of buildings on either side of the road.

  A white building with a black sign out front toward the end of the row of stores caught her attention. She slammed on the brakes, veering off the road. “I’ve got something!” She thrust the van into park and helped Nathan pull Doug out of the back doors. Nathan scooped Doug in his arms, sprinted past the veterinary sign, and made a beeline for the door.

  Wren flung the side door open. “C’mon, girls.” Wren held out her hand, and her daughters sheepishly crawled from their seats. She scooped up Addison, who still couldn’t stand up right, and Chloe huddled around her legs. She looked to her son. “I’ll come back for you once I get them inside.”

  Zack nodded, and Wren guided the girls up the steps and inside the office. A series of bewildered faces glanced at her once inside, along with howls and screeches from a handful of animals, some of them caged, others held by their owners. Nathan burst through a door down a hallway. “Wren! Back here!”

  Wren placed the girls in two vacant chairs in the waiting room. “You two stay right here and do not move.” She kissed their foreheads and sprinted toward Nate. His massive body blocked the doorway, and she tried to peer past him, but the small openings offered no view of Doug.

  “Wren.” Nathan placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, and she felt her body sink. “He’s not sure he can do anything.”

  Wren shoved Nate aside and stepped into the room. “Watch the girls.” Doug lay on a steel table, a light above him, and a shrew-looking man with thinning hair, glasses, and a white coat far too large for his petite frame standing next to him. She thrust a finger at the doctor and then to Doug. “Help him.”

  The doctor took a step back, shrugging, his hands spread out in a desperate plea. “Miss, I’m only a veterinarian. The wounds he’s sustained, the amount of blood loss—”

  “You need blood?” With her left arm pinned in the sling, Wren awkwardly rolled up the sleeve of her right arm, exposing the pale, soft, dirtied flesh underneath. “Take it. He’s a universal receiver.”

  “Ma’am, I—”

  “Take it!” Wren’s voice shrilled, her cheeks and neck flushed hot red. She stepped forward, her arm jutted out, the lines and curves of her face shifting between tremors of rage and fear. “Try. Please.”

  The doctor hesitated, wiggling his fingers back and forth. Wren’s arm shook the longer the silence between them grew. “Okay.” The doctor pulled out a tray of instruments, the metal objects clanging against each other. He thrust an oddly shaped oxygen mask over Doug’s face and ripped the fabric of his shirt.

  Wren lowered her arm, slowly walking toward her husband on the table. He’s not gone. Not yet. She reached for his hand. His finger was cold to the touch. The doctor grabbed her arm, and she felt the cold prick of steel pierce her skin.

  “There’s no guarantee he’ll survive.” Blood drained from the veins in Wren’s arm, oozing through the tube and into Doug, warming the point of entrance on his skin. “You should prepare for the worst.”

  Wren watched her blood drain, feeling dizzy and lightheaded. “I already have.”

  11

  Addison and Chloe lay asleep in Wren’s lap. She felt the steady rise and fall of their chests, and she stroked their hair. Her sleeve was still rolled up, and a bandage had been placed over the puncture wound. The paleness of her complexion only accentuated the dark circles that had formed under her eyes, dragging her downward.

  The doctor worked on Doug for an hour, and while his pulse returned, his consciousness did not. And now that he was stabilized, the veterinarian shifted his work to Zack. Her son screamed when the doctor reset the bone, but since then, it’d been nothing but the barking of dogs and the hiss of cats.

  The waiting room in the veterinarian’s office was dark, save for the sunlight coming through the windows. The EMP had stretched well beyond Chicago’s city limits, and she heard the rumblings of the town’s citizens in regard to the sudden malfunction of their vehicles, phones, and other devices. A few candles were set out and slowly became the main source of light as the sun touched the horizon in the west.

  Nathan stepped around the corner of the hallway, Doug’s dried blood caked over his shirt and arms. His shoulders sagged as he leaned against the wall, examining his attire. “The doctor’s done with Zack. He’s resting now.”

  “And Doug?” The past hour had seen her mind race down every nightmarish avenue she could imagine, wondering what she would do or say if Doug didn’t survive, or if he did.

  “He’s still passed out. The doctor is checking on him now.”

  Wren nodded, her gaze cast down to her girls in her lap, then she rested her head against the wall. She closed her eyes, her head swimming. She was surprised that her mind was still dizzy from the doctor draining her blood. I’m just tired.

  “Wren.” Nathan’s bearlike palm engulfed her shoulder. “We need to get out of here. I know of a place that we can go.”

  The scrape on Wren’s leg roared its irritation, and a hot flush ran through her. “We’re out of the city, Nathan. We’re safe.”

  “For now.” Nathan looked around suspiciously then inched closer. “Wren, if this town was affected by the EMP blast, then we have to assume the entire country was as well. And if that’s the case, this power outage is going to last a very long time. What we saw in Chicago was just the beginning.”

  Wren forced the dizzy spell into submission, gently shifting the girls off her lap. “It’s too soon to talk of something like that. We don’t know if it’s the entire country. We can’t base our decisions off our fears, Nathan.” She rested the two of them across the chairs, and they fidgeted lightly from the interruption. “Watch the girls for a second. I’m going to go check on Zack.”

  The first few steps were difficult, her knees buckling twice, and she had to grip the wall for support. But once she fell into a rhythm, a portion of her strength returned. The doctor had just come out of Doug’s room when she made it to Zack’s door. He’d removed his coat, revealing the true thinness of his frame. His clothes were covered and stained with dark blotches, and his arms were red from fingertips to elbows. “Thank you.”

  The doctor shook his head, his eyes focused on the blood on his hands. “I didn’t do anything. There’s still no guarantee that he’ll survive. He’s alive, but barely.”

  “You did enough.” Wren smiled then stepped inside Zack’s room.

  Her son lay asleep with his left leg in a cast from knee
to foot. An IV bag hung above him, offering what nourishment it could to his young, battered body. She pulled up a chair and sat next to him, her fingers lacing between his. “We’re okay.” She kissed his palm. “We’re going to be okay.”

  The sun had completely disappeared below the horizon, and with the power out the night cast a darkness Wren had never seen before. She rotated her shoulder that hung in the sling from the hospital, stiff from sitting in the van, as she scanned the radio channels for any news, anywhere. But just like her phone, the airwaves remained quiet.

  A bead of sweat rolled down her forehead, stinging her eye on its way. She felt the heat radiate from her body, and her mind was dizzy. I just need to rest. Sleep had been in short supply, her mind too busy contemplating their next move. It offered a distraction from worrying about whether Doug would survive.

  Indiana was an option if they headed east. Wren’s parents still lived just outside of Indianapolis, but if what Nate was telling her were true, then she wasn’t sure if their circumstances would improve. While Nathan’s option of his secret camp loomed in her mind, she refused to bring her family to people she didn’t know or trust, no matter how many times he brought it up.

  “Wren,” Nathan said, slinking through the dark. “You need to come, quick.”

  Wren stumbled getting out of the van, which they’d moved into the veterinary’s garage to keep out of view from the rest of the town. Having a working vehicle had its advantages, and she wanted to make sure those advantages stayed in their possession.

  The candles that replaced the faulty lights down the hallway exaggerated the menacing shadows in the dark. She followed Nathan to Doug’s room, where he lay still, the vet hovering over him. At first glance, Wren thought Doug had awoken; his head lolled back and forth lazily, and she heard the murmurs of his voice. But the closer she looked, she realized that his eyes remained closed, and his words were nonsense. The light from the candles illuminated the slick sheen of sweat covering his skin.

  “He has a fever,” the veterinary said, removing a thermometer from Doug’s mouth. “His temperature has spiked three degrees in the past hour. He’s burning up.”

  Before Wren even touched Doug’s forehead, she felt the heat coming off him. The bloodied bandage around Doug’s stomach was damp with sweat, and the IV was running low. “Can’t you give him something?” Wren removed her hand, her palm scorching hot.

  “I don’t have the antibiotics he needs.” The vet gestured to the wound. “If he has an infection, he won’t last more than a few days. His organs will slowly shut down. He needs more help than I can give him.”

  “You have to have something.” Wren paced across the shelves in the large animal operating room that were lined with hundreds of different bottles and boxes. “One of these has to be able to help him.”

  “There’s nothing here!” The vet’s voice screeched like a scratch in a record. His small body trembled from the exertion, and Wren wasn’t sure if the meager man was more afraid of his words, or how she would react to them. He rubbed his brow, and his glasses slid down the bridge of his nose. “What he needs now, I can’t help with.” He stomped over to the shelves, pulling down boxes hastily. “I know every single pill and powder in my inventory. I have medicine for horses, pigs, sheep, dogs, cats, birds, and snakes, but none of them can fight what he has.” He emptied the box, the bottles rolling across the tile, then slammed the empty cardboard to the floor. “I. Can’t. Help!” Steam fumed from the vet’s ears, and he clenched his small hands into fists.

  Wren took a breath, letting her thoughts gather and the vet’s temper cool. “Then what does he need?”

  “Cefepime, ceftazidime, and ceftriaxone sodium.” The vet listed them off slowly, rubbing his eyes. “They’re used to fight infections in the organs, bones, and skin. He’ll need a steady six-week regimen to eradicate the bacteria.”

  “You’re sure he’s infected?” Wren placed a hand on Doug’s table. His face was still dripping with sweat.

  “If his fever hasn’t broken by morning, then it’s a one hundred percent certainty.”

  Wren nodded, her gaze shifting from Doug, who lay motionless on the table, to Nathan. “Then we wait until we know for sure.”

  “Wren, if we wai—”

  “We wait. Until we know for sure.” Wren stomped away, her head spinning once more. She wasn’t going to let someone else dictate what was best for her family. She’d seen too much. Her family had felt the burden of the chaos in Chicago. She wouldn’t be pushed around, not here.

  Wren found the girls asleep in one of the rooms, and she leaned against the doorway, lingering at the precipice of entry. The two of them were balled up tight in blankets, their hair tangled and messy. She’d never seen anything so peaceful in her life.

  “Wren.” The whisper was accompanied by a tap on her shoulder, and when she turned around, Nathan clasped his hands together, pleading. “You need to listen to me.”

  Wren grabbed his arm, pulling them both away from the girls. “I already told you, Nathan, we wait until morning. The doctor’s not one hundred percent sure.”

  “He’s also not a medical doctor,” Nathan replied harshly. “He’s a veterinarian.”

  “All the more reason to stay put.” The waves of exhaustion beat their way against her, eroding her patience. The harder Wren fought, the quicker she drowned in her fatigue. She loosened the collar of her shirt, suddenly feeling warm.

  “And if the vet is right, it might be too late by morning.”

  A sudden shock of icy cold mixed with heat cut through Wren like a freight train. She put her hand against the wall for support. The cut along her leg ached. The white bandages the vet had wrapped around the wound upon their arrival already needed to be changed. She shook her head. “How far is it to this camp?” The wound burned like hot coals. She shut her eyes and felt the tiles under her feet shift, as if they were rolling waves on the ocean.

  “From here, it’s at least a three-hour drive,” Nathan answered. “And that’s if we don’t run into any trouble. Hell, we may not even have enough fuel to get us there.”

  Wren stepped away from the light; the sight of the flame dancing in the dark hallway only compounded the illusion of the shifting ground. “We’ll check for gas in the morning.” She backtracked down the hallway, retreating toward the van. “I’m going to go and catch some shut-eye. Wake me up if anything changes.”

  Nathan agreed, and Wren focused on putting one foot in front of the other on her slow walk down the hall. By the time she arrived at the van, it was all she could do to pull herself inside, collapsing onto the backseat. Her skin flashed from hot to cold, and she found a blanket in the back, which she pulled tight to her chin, fighting off the shivers running up and down her body.

  But whatever peace Wren hoped to find in her sleep was disfigured by shifting nightmares. The gunshots at the hospital in Chicago thundered through her mind like a hurricane, rolling her back and forth in the chaos she tried so desperately to escape. She felt the warm splash of blood from the dead as one by one patients fell around her. She ran through hallways of shrieking screams and bloodcurdling cries of the dying. The wicked foreign tongue of the killers barked in her ears. “Yuhzir! Alkhuruj wamuajahat mammatik!” The wailing cries of her daughters shook loose the gripping fear the terrorists’ voices had instilled. She sprinted toward the sound of their cries through the hallways, stepping over and around the slain bodies that were spread across the tiles. And it wasn’t but a few moments later that she found herself covered in dust, the hospital behind her nothing but rubble, and she was alone. Her girls had disappeared, and when she cried out to them, another voice echoed back to her. Zack. Her son’s voice was muffled under the mangled concrete and twisted steel which grew taller the closer she moved. Her son’s voice shrank with the growing heap of rubble. She flung rocks and rebar from the pile, digging deeper and deeper into the collapsed mountain until she finally came upon him, broken and unconscious. She scooped her son
up in her arms as the unstable structure around her shifted and moaned above them. A searing pain ripped through her right thigh. And just as the rubble tumbled down upon both of them, she awoke.

  Wren ripped the blanket off her and clutched her leg. Her entire body was slick with sweat, the blanket damp and her clothes soaked. Her hair clung to her forehead in greasy, matted sheets. The muscles along her thigh felt like they were melting off and she rolled off the seat and onto the floorboard.

  With a shaking arm, she pulled down her pants. Every inch was excruciating, and when she peeled back the top portion of her bandage, she gagged. The cut had grown a bright red, and a small amount of pus oozed from the side of the gash. Infected. She pulled her pants back up, gingerly, and lay still on the floor.

  A ray of light broke through the high window of the garage, signaling that it was dawn. She rubbed her eyes and pushed herself to an upright position. Fear gripped her as she realized what morning meant. Doug.

  Wren crawled forward awkwardly over the seats, doing her best to keep pressure off her wounded limbs. She collapsed out of the van and limped forward, forcing all of her weight on her left leg. The hallway was quiet, no sign of anyone awake. She used the walls for support on her way to Doug’s room. When she opened the door, both Nathan and the veterinarian looked at her as if she’d grown a second head. “His fever,” Wren said, the words escaping her lips in hoarse rasps. “Is it gone?” Against her will, she slid to the floor, struggling to keep her eyes open. She felt a hand on her forehead.

  “Christ, she’s burning up.”

  Wren swatted the hand away. She opened her eyes. Her vision was blurred. Both the veterinarian and Nathan were nothing more than hazy images. “Doug, is he—”