Survive the Day Boxset: EMP Survival in a Powerless World

by William Stone

  Nick popped his head out of the water, and Jack lunged forward, grabbing him and pulling him into the drain. Then he did the same for Kate, and then Susan when she finally surfaced, gasping for breath.

  Jack was about to celebrate as he pulled Susan into the drain … but before he could crack a smile, shouts of vicious triumph rang out from across the river.

  The enemy had seen them.

  28

  “Hey! Stop right there!” one of the enemy men yelled, whipping his rifle up to his shoulder and taking aim at Susan and Jack, who were in the entrance of the storm drain.

  Sixty or seventy yards and the river separated the two groups, and Jack knew that unless the man was an absolute crack shot, there was no way he’d hit them with a mere split-second to aim. He grabbed Susan and yanked her inside the cement pipe. A second later, a shot rang out, and a puff of dust and flying shards of concrete spurted from the inside wall of the drain system, but for now, Jack and his family were safe. They wouldn’t be for very long, though; Jack understood this well.

  “Follow me, hurry!” he said. It seemed that the bulk of the enemy force was on the opposite side of the river, but he knew that some of them had to be on this side because it would have taken at least two or three men to push the burning truck down the slope.

  He and his childhood friends had explored these drains many decades ago, and his memory of the layout of the drains was fuzzy, but he did recall that one of them passed the town hall, which would be as good a place as any to seek shelter from the enemy and get warm and dry before escaping this town, which had fallen into hostile hands.

  “Do you even know where we’re going, Dad?” Susan asked, her teeth chattering.

  “I’m so cold,” Nick muttered, shivering madly, his skin and lips looking alarmingly blue, with a faraway gaze entering his eyes again. “So cold, so very, very cold…”

  “We have to get warm and dry fast,” Kate said.

  “I know, but before we can do anything about that, we have to get away from these maniacs,” Jack said. “And yes, Susie, I know where I’m going.”

  Just a few yards into the underground pipes, everything was pitch black. Outside, across the river, the enemy men were yelling with fury, but Jack was sure none of them would want to plunge into the icy river and swim across it to get to where Jack and his family had disappeared. They would more likely run back and cross the bridge half a mile downstream and then start pulling up manhole covers to get into the drain network. He wanted to be out of the drains and into the town hall by then.

  “I can’t even see my hand in front of my face,” Susan murmured. “Are you sure you know where you’re going, Dad?”

  “Keep going straight,” he said. “The sound of our footsteps will tell us when we get to an intersection.”

  “Can’t we just get a lighter out of one of the waterproof bags?” Kate asked.

  “If we use a lighter, those crazy murderers will see where we are,” Jack said. “We can’t risk it. Just keep going straight, I’ve been in these drains before … it was a very long time ago, but I don’t think there are going to be any unexpected holes dropping down anywhere. Even if there were, we’d hear it from the sound of running water. Just keep quiet, walk at a steady pace, and keep your ears open.”

  After twenty or thirty yards, the sound of the splashing echoes of their footsteps abruptly changed. The sounds became a lot more open rather than tight and constricted, and Jack knew they had come to an intersection. He took a few steps to the left, and sure enough, there was no longer any wall there. “This way, everyone,” he said. “Stay close behind me.”

  He went left, not because he remembered the way, but rather because there was a slight upward slope that direction, whereas the path to the right sloped down. The town hall was located on top of the town's highest point; that was how Jack knew which way to go.

  He pushed on through the inky darkness, sopping wet and freezing cold, listening carefully not only to the sound of every footfall but also listening out for any sign that their pursuers had entered the drains. There was no sign of them yet, but he knew that they would soon enter the drains.

  After another fifty yards of trudging through the darkness, Jack got to another intersection. “This way, to the right,” he said. He went right because that way was slightly uphill, and he knew that they had to be getting closer. Shivering, and with their teeth chattering, the other three silently followed him.

  Just then, though, they heard a sound that made their already chilled blood freeze in their veins: downstream, they heard the splashing of men jumping into the water. The sounds traveled in ominous echoes up through the network of drains and informed the four of them that their enemies were now close behind them.

  “Come here, lil’ piggies!” one of the men roared, his throaty voice echoing through the drains.

  “Y’all can run, but ya can’t hide, ya sons a’ bitches!” another yelled. “We’re coming for y’all, and we’re gon’ get ya!”

  “Shh, move quickly and quietly, and don’t speak unless it’s an emergency,” Jack whispered.

  A gunshot boomed through the darkness, echoing through the network of drains, and the loud bang made all four of them jump with fright. They managed to restrain themselves from crying out, though.

  “Shh,” Jack whispered. “They’re shooting blindly into the dark, but they’re not gonna hit us. They’re far behind us, and they’ll probably get lost in here anyway.”

  Just after he said this, though, another shot rang out, its booming echo ripping in sonic waves through the drains. The blast was followed by a bout of maniacal laughter and one of the men making mocking pig squealing sounds.

  “Keep moving and keep quiet,” Jack whispered in as good of a calm and reassuring tone as he could manage, pushing on forward. “They’re trying to scare us into giving away our position. As long as we don’t give ourselves away, they won’t find us, and unless they’ve got bullets that can turn around corners in midair, they won’t hit us either.”

  “Mark’s gon’ have himself some real fun with the girl!” one of the men shouted before firing off another shot. “The rest a’ us are gon’ pass the milf around! We gon’ have a real good time when we find y’all!”

  Alarmingly, their footsteps and voices sounded as if they were growing closer. At the speed they were moving, they had to be carrying a light of some sort. Jack couldn’t move any faster, though, and couldn’t risk getting a lighter out. He could sense the others’ fear growing and swelling but didn’t know what he could do or say at this point to reassure them. All he could do was to continue to push forward.

  They pressed on, with the men’s shouts and random gunshots behind them getting steadily and alarmingly closer. After another minute or two of walking, they came to another intersection of drains. However, this time, there was no perceptible slope to either of them, so Jack faced a conundrum. Should he turn left or right?

  “Which way did they go?” he heard one of the men shout out behind him. They had to have reached one of the intersections, too.

  “You two go up this way,” another of them responded in a deep, raspy voice. “We’ll go this way.” Then he roared out a shout in a vociferous challenge. “We’re coming for y’all, piggies! Y’all can’t keep running forever, an’ y’all can’t keep hidin’ in the dark, either! These damn sewers are a closed network, an’ up on the streets my boys are getting all the damn manholes covered, just waiting for you morons to stick yer heads outta ‘em! Y’all are finished, motherfuckers, y’all are done for!”

  This man, Jack surmised, had to be the leader. And if he was telling the truth, then things were about to get a lot riskier and a lot more difficult for them. If there were indeed men moving through the streets looking for covers to aim their guns at, they would only have a few minutes to get out of the drain near the town hall before that option was closed off to them.

  “What do we do, Jack?” Kate whispered urgently.

  “We ha
ve to move faster,” he whispered back. “Shit,” he muttered, his heart beating faster as he debated over the coin-flip choice of left or right. “Okay, okay, this way,” he said to them, taking the right-hand tunnel. He prayed that he had made the correct choice; if he hadn’t, they would certainly end up getting caught or killed by their pursuers.

  Behind them, two men were running through the drains and shouting out mocking obscenities at them and growing ever closer. There was no sign of any light ahead, and no hint that they may be getting close to a place from which they could escape the drain network. And even if they did get to a manhole, they wouldn’t know whether it was the right one—or whether there were armed men with their guns trained on it—until after Jack had popped his head out of it.

  Jack knew it was a chance he would just have to take. He reached one more intersection in the drain network, but this one was different to all the others, for to the left, up a slight incline, he could see light streaming into the pitch-black drain. There was a manhole nearby, but whether it was the right one—and even if it was the right one, whether it was safe to stick his head out of was another matter—there was only one way to tell.

  Before he could take another step, though, he saw another source of light, this time coming from behind him. Their pursuers were almost upon them, and even with the exit so close, he knew that there was no longer any time to run.

  “Everyone, stop,” he said bitterly. “We’re going to have to fight.”

  29

  “Fight?” Kate gasped. “Jack, we can’t see a damn thing, how are we going to—”

  “Get your heads down real low!” he hissed. “And don’t anybody else shoot, or we’ll end up killing each other! Do it right now!”

  Everyone dropped down to their haunches, and Jack aimed his pistol at the steadily brightening source of light. He couldn’t see where he was aiming and prayed that everyone had gotten down low enough that his shots would fly over their heads.

  Orange light flared abruptly through the drain tunnel as the men burst into the intersection. One of them was holding a burning torch brand, improvised from scrap wood and burning oil. The other had an AR-15 rifle in his hands.

  Jack took in this sight in a split-second, but that was the only length of time he hesitated for. He couldn’t see the sights of his pistol, or even his hand in front of his face, but he knew that he was pointing it vaguely toward the two men, who hadn’t yet realized that they were a mere dozen or so yards from their quarry. Now, however, the hunters had become the prey. Jack started firing, squeezing the trigger as rapidly as he could, unloading his entire magazine in the space of a few short seconds. His aim wasn’t perfect, but at this short distance, it didn’t need to be. The men gasped and jerked as the bullets tore through their bodies, and then they both dropped silently into the icy, ankle-deep water. The burning torch fell with them and was extinguished with a sizzling hiss, quickly plunging the tunnel back into darkness.

  For a few moments, the only sounds were the water's soft gurgle and four frightened people breathing in the dark.

  “Is everyone okay?” Jack asked.

  A chorus of wary affirmations met his question.

  “Thank goodness,” he said. “Come on, the others will have heard those gunshots, and they’ll be coming this way. There’s a manhole up ahead, let’s move.”

  They didn’t need any further encouragement to get going; shouts from their other pursuers were echoing through the drains after the volley of shots Jack had unleashed. Thankfully, the echoes through the extensive network made it difficult for the enemy men to pinpoint exactly where the shots had come from, but it wouldn’t likely take them long to find them.

  They got to the opening to the street, through which a little light was shining. To their dark-accustomed eyes, it seemed like a piercing blaze of brightness, and Jack knew the snow outside would amplify the painful light. They could not waste time waiting for their eyes to adjust, though. They had to press onward, and they had to do it fast.

  Jack crouched under the manhole cover and slipped a fresh clip into his pistol. This was the moment of truth. “Nick, I need your help,” he said. “I can’t raise the cover and hold my pistol at the same time. I need you to lift it a little, while I stick my head—and my pistol—out to check things out.”

  Nick was shivering madly, and his teeth were chattering like an out-of-control jackhammer, but he nodded and moved under the heavy piece of metal, pressing the palms of both hands against it in preparation to give it a quick lift. “Ready when you are, Jack,” he said.

  Jack breathed in deeply, held the air in his lungs, and closed his eyes for a few seconds. He prayed that sticking his head through the opening wouldn’t result in his brains and skull being splattered all over his wife and child. He opened his eyes, ready for whatever might await him. “Do it,” he muttered.

  Nick pushed up against the cover, opening it to an angle of around forty-five degrees. With his heart in his mouth, Jack popped his head up, quickly sticking his hands and pistol out at the same time, waiting to see a muzzle flash and hear a bang—the last sight and sound he would ever experience.

  Instead, though, the town hall's familiar sight greeted him, a large four-floor building constructed in the 19th century, and the street in front of it, which seemed to be completely deserted. He exhaled every cubic inch of air in his lungs in a huge sigh of relief and then helped Nick lift the cover completely off the manhole. “The coast’s clear!” he said to the others. “Quick, quick, let’s move!”

  “Thank God,” Kate gasped.

  Jack scrambled out of the sewer, double-checked that there was nobody nearby, and then hurriedly helped the others to climb out of the hole. While there was nobody in this street, Jack could hear the sound of boots running nearby and knew that the enemy would be here soon enough. As soon as everyone was out, squinting and blinking against the harsh light, Jack dragged the metal disk back over the hole and then made a beeline for the town hall.

  The others scurried along behind him, battling to see as their eyes adjusted to the presence of daylight. Drifts of snow had piled up outside and around the town hall, but Jack didn’t need to dig through the snow to see that the main entrance was locked. Even so, he knew that there was another way inside.

  “The oak tree behind the town hall,” he said to the others, “we’ll be able to get in that way.”

  The sprawling oak in the garden to the rear of the town hall was as old, if not older than the building itself. The branches didn’t hang low over any of the upper floor balconies, but Jack had a length of rope in his bag, and he had an idea. “Up onto the wall,” he said, climbing up onto the brick wall that surrounded the town hall and its garden to the rear. “That way, they won’t see our tracks in the snow.”

  Jack needn’t have worried too much about leaving tracks in the snow, though, since the wind was picking up and snow was beginning to fall again. The snowfall was growing heavier with each passing minute.

  The wind was terrible; it stung like thousands of stinging whips through their wet clothes, chilling them to the bone. They knew that they had to get out of the wind and warm themselves up before intense discomfort became something more fatal. They got up onto the wall, painfully aware of how visible this made them, and hastily walked along the top of it around the perimeter of the town hall. Once they had gotten around to the rear, where the garden was, they jumped off and jogged across the garden to the massive oak tree, which was bare of any leaves, having lost them for winter a few months ago. The fact that the tree didn’t have any leaves on it actually worked to Jack’s advantage and would make his proposed plan easier to enact.

  In the streets nearby, shouts of anger from those hunting them spurred some urgency into the four fugitives. It wouldn’t be long before they figured out that their quarry had escaped the drains, and once that discovery was made, they would surely scour the town for them.

  “What are we gonna do, Jack?” Kate asked, shivering, with he
r jaws chattering as another gust of biting cold wind blasted cold into the very marrow of her bones. “This place is locked up tighter than Fort Knox.”

  “Up there,” Jack said, pointing through the falling snow to the long balconies of the upper floors, which wrapped around the whole town hall building. “Those doors are never locked. Aunt Phyllis told me that. She worked in the town hall her whole life, and I remember her saying that those doors don’t even have locks on ‘em.”

  “That’s all well and good,” Kate said, “but I don’t see any ladders nearby, and I didn’t realize your alter-ego was Spiderman, either.”

  “Daddy, hurry,” Susan said, shivering like a leaf in a gale, her skin taking on an alarmingly blue tinge. “I can barely feel my arms and legs anymore…”

  “We have to get up into the tree as high as we can climb,” Jack said. “Then I’m going to make an improvised rope swing; we’re gonna swing across the gap from that branch to the balcony.” He pointed to a large bough that was slightly higher than the upper floor balcony. “The branch above it looks strong enough to hold a person’s weight, and the height should create enough of an arc in the swing to reach the balcony.”

  “Jack, that gap is at least twelve feet, maybe more,” Kate said, looking worried. “And if we don’t make the swing the first time, we’ll end up dangling four floors up … and a fall from that height…”

  “It’s our only way in,” Jack said grimly. “And if we don’t get in, we either freeze to death in the next hour or get caught by those killers. I don’t know about you, but I’d prefer to meet my end by a quick fall to either of those options.”