James finally spoke, breaking the silence. “Where exactly are we going, Aunt Mary? I mean, you told me you knew of a safe place deep in the mountains, but you didn’t even tell me exactly what kind of place it was.”
“It’s a really simple place,” Mary answered.
James’s question had prompted a flood of memories of a completely different life, one so alien to the one she had lived in the city that it almost felt unreal as if it had never happened.
“Life’s very different there. Don’t expect much. It’s little more than a log cabin; I’m talking really basic stuff. It’s very rustic, and there’s nothing but the bare necessities, but in times like these, we should be thankful that we’ve got a place to go to where we actually do have access to those bare necessities. In a few days all the water in the city is gonna run out, and then what are people going to do? Drink the water from the polluted river? They’d be better off draining car radiators and drinking that. Make no mistake, as crude and simple as the place we’re going is, we’ll be better off than anyone stuck in that hellhole back there.”
“That’s all good, Mom,” Anna said, “but you didn’t really answer James’s question. What is this place? A camp, a farm, a hunting shack? Does anyone live there? Is it your place, like, some sort of second home you never told me about?”
Mary sighed. She had never told her daughter—or anyone in her post-runaway life, really—about the place she’d grown up, or her father, who was the only living member of her family. The memories had always been too painful, not because of any abuse or trauma she had suffered as a child, but rather because of her own guilt at the pain, she’d caused by the selfish act of running away. Mary had been a strong-willed and stubborn teen and had butted heads one too many times with her father over the way he chose to live. She’d had one too many arguments with him over the normal childhood of which she felt she had been deprived due to the way he’d raised her. She hadn’t been willing to accept any compromise on his part; their relationship had, in her mid-teens, eventually broken down to the point of his way or the highway, and she had, in her bitter frustration and longing for a so-called “normal” life, chosen the road.
Mary knew she had to have broken her father’s heart. For all their disagreements and arguments, she had always been the apple of his eye, and the day she had left for good would forever be burned into her mind as one of the worst days of her life. Her stubbornness had prevailed, though, and for all the regret and pain she felt, she had never looked back. Now, though, circumstances had finally forced her to confront her past and return to the place she had sworn to never set foot in again.
If anything or anyone was even there, of course. It had been almost twenty years since Mary had run away, and at this point in her life, she had lived more years in the city than she had in the mountains with her father. For all she knew, the place could be an overgrown ruin. Or the property could have been purchased by someone else, and she’d find hostile strangers living there. Her father was in his forties when she’d run away, so he’d be in his sixties now; it was reasonable to assume that he was still alive. Her dad had sworn that he would never leave his land while he still drew breath. Still, as healthy as he was, any number of accidents could have befallen him, and many things could have changed. The truth was, there was simply no way of knowing whether he and the cabin were still there or not. However, at this point, Mary had no other options. She’d decided that if he was gone and the land was overgrown and the cabin ruined, she would simply rebuild it, using what knowledge she had retained from her childhood. If there were other hostile people there … she would think of something else.
“Mom, did you hear me?” Ann asked, interrupting Mary’s train of thoughts. “What is the place?”
Mary sighed slowly before answering. “It’s home,” she said. “The place where I grew up. My father’s cabin.”
Ann’s face scrunched into an expression of confusion for a few seconds. “But you always said grandpa died when you were a kid,” she said. “And you said you grew up on the West Coast.”
“I’m sorry, Ann,” Mary said softly. “I couldn’t bring myself to tell you the truth, all these years. It’s just that the past is … it’s very painful for me.”
“You mean my grandpa is still alive?” Ann gasped, incredulous. “All these years you said he was dead and that you came from the West Coast, but, but he’s actually out here in the mountains and still alive? What else is a lie, mom?!” she demanded, her disbelief turning rapidly to rage. “What else have I believed my whole life that’s actually a fucking lie?”
“I’m sorry, sweetie, I’m so sorry,” Mary said, on the verge of tears, with all sorts of powerful emotions swirling and swelling within her. “It was all to protect you, not to hurt you. You have to understand—”
“You lied to me my entire life!” Ann yelled. “How can I trust anything you say to me now?! I had a grandpa who was living just a few hours away, not dead in some grave on the West Coast like you told me! I can’t believe this. I can’t fucking believe it!”
“You have a right to be upset, sweetie,” Mary said, fighting back the tears. “I did lie to you all this time, and all I can say now is that I’m sorry. I … I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”
James was sitting in the back, feeling extremely awkward, being stuck in the middle of this intensely emotional argument. He could feel Mary’s shame and pain and guilt, and since these were emotions that he was very familiar with, his heart went out to her. He also felt a great deal of empathy for Ann, too, for he knew all too well what it was like to have a parent who lied. His father’s lies, though, were of a very different nature to this one, and were far more malicious and self-serving—lies about forgetting birthdays, how much he’d had to drink, how he was working on stopping his violent and abusive behavior. Also, because of how he’d grown up with his deadbeat father, James knew that regardless of this lie that Mary had been telling her daughter, she had been a stellar parent in every other way. She had done everything she could to provide for Ann and do the best she possibly could for her. He felt that even though it wasn’t his place to butt in, he had to speak up.
“Aunt Mary,” he said softly, his voice cracking the tension-thick silence like an ax through brittle ice, “I just want to thank you for everything you’ve done for me. You uh, you had no obligation to help me out or take care of me or anything, but since I was a little kid, you took me under your wing-like, like I was your own. You were like the mother I never had, and, uh, you showed me that even after everything my father did to me, there were good people in this world. Thank you.”
“Thank you, James,” Mary said, choking on a tight knot of a sob in her throat. “You’re a good kid, you always have been. I consider you part of the family. I’ll always have your back. I’ve made some mistakes and very bad decisions in my life but taking you under my wing is something I’m pretty damn sure I did right.”
Ann refused to say anything. She stared sullenly out of the window, her jaw clenched tight, and Mary realized it would be better to just leave her alone for the time being.
Night fell, and the darkness outside was thick, dense, and more intense than anything Mary had seen since her childhood days of living in the cabin, many miles from civilization. She didn’t want to stop driving, but she only vaguely remembered the route and had to consult a map. They approached a small town, and, acutely aware of the dangers any sort of human settlement posed, Mary blasted through it at high speed. She wasn’t about to let anyone ambush them or force them to stop.
Only once she’d put a couple miles between her and the town did she slow down and pull over to the side of the road to consult the paper map she’d brought with her from her apartment. She flipped on the cabin light of the Humvee and checked the route; they were on the right track, and there were maybe two hours of driving to go, half of which would be on pretty rough dirt roads. She checked the gas gauge and saw that they were running low. There was
definitely enough to get them to the dirt roads, but how far along those tracks they would get was uncertain. She realized that they may well have to abandon the vehicle and walk much of the way, which wouldn’t be ideal considering the state of Ann’s leg. All they could do at this point, however, was go on and hope for the best.
They had a few more snacks and drinks, and Mary checked on Ann’s leg again. Ann still refused to say anything to her mother. The silence and tension in the Humvee were palpable. What was of far greater concern to Mary than her daughter’s sullen silence, though, was Ann’s worsening condition. Despite having glucose and snacks, Ann’s face was looking pallid, she was swaying in her seat, and having difficulty keeping her eyes open. As much as it pained her to watch Ann’s health declining rapidly like this, there nothing Mary could do at this point but keep going.
Not wanting to hang around too long, Mary got moving again. The drive was a long, silent one. They went through another small town, and again, Mary blasted through it as fast as she could, hoping that nobody would try to stop them or pursue them. Thankfully, while she did think she saw hints of movements in the shadows, nobody came after them, and there were no roadblocks or ambushes.
They finally made it to the dirt roads, and about a mile in, the Humvee’s gas gauge was showing empty. Mary kept on going, keeping the revs as low as she could to stretch out the last few dregs of gas in the tank, and prayed that they could get as close to the cabin as possible before they ran dry.
A mile later, though, they were forced to stop, not because of running out of gas, but because of an obstacle in their path. The full moon had come out from behind the clouds, so now, at least, the landscape was illuminated in a gentle, silvery-blue glow, and in this light, Mary rounded a corner and had to bring the Humvee to a stop when she saw the dirt road disappearing into a broad, fast-flowing river in flood.
“How are we gonna get across this, Aunt Mary?” James asked.
“I don’t know,” Mary said. “We’ll have to get out and try to get a feel for how deep it is. We might be able to get across.”
She and James climbed out of the vehicle and walked up to the edge of the rushing river. “See if you can find a long stick,” Mary said to James. “And then—”
“Don’t fuckin’ move,” a new voice growled from the shadows at the side of the road. The ominous sound of a pump-action shotgun being cocked accompanied the threat, and the hiss of gas lamps being turned on and the scratching sound of Zippos igniting them was followed by a gush of white light flooding the immediate area.
“Down on your knees, both of you,” another voice, harsh and raspy, snarled. “Do it, or I’ll blow the backs of your stupid city-slicker skulls out. Down on your fuckin’ knees, hands behind your heads, now!”
19
Mary’s heart almost stopped, and her blood felt as if it had frozen in her veins. Her pistol was in her pocket, but James had left his in the car. The menacing edge in the men’s voices told her that these were hard, rough men who wouldn’t hesitate to hurt them, and, what was more, she didn’t even know how many of them there were, or where they were. Trying to reach for her gun now could get her and the teenagers killed. With no other option open to her, all she could do was obey the gunmen.
“Do what they said, James,” she said softly, moving slowly and getting down on her knees and putting her hands behind her head.
She was doing her best not to panic, but it was difficult to keep the surges of icy terror at bay. All she could do was pray that the men would be happy with taking the Humvee and would leave her and the teenagers unharmed after robbing them of the vehicle. It was pretty much out of gas anyway, so she would have had to abandon it in the next mile or two. However, she suspected, with a feeling of terrible dread percolating in the pit of her stomach, that stealing the vehicle was not the only reason the men had ambushed them.
She heard them approaching from behind her and turned her head to look.
“Don’t fuckin’ turnaround, bitch, keep your eyes on the water!” one of them snapped.
Next to her, James had also got down onto his knees and put his hands behind his head. Mary could almost feel his fear. From the sound of the boots crunching on the dirt road, it sounded like there were at least three men, possibly four.
“Take a look inside the Hummer, Jake,” the first man growled.
Mary heard one set of boots turning and heading toward the vehicle, but the others kept coming in her direction. “You can take the Humvee,” she said calmly. “I’m not gonna resist. Just let us go, please.”
“Where you going, huh?” the first man asked. “Why you driving out here in the woods?”
“My father and his family live out here,” she answered, hoping that mentioning the fact that she had relatives out here would make them think twice about hurting her.
“There’s another bitch in the Hummer!” the man who’d gone to inspect the vehicle yelled excitedly. “She’s passed out or something. Real pretty, an’ look like she’s sweet sixteen, yes sirree, she’s real pretty, young and tight…”
The way the man said that made Mary’s skin crawl, and her heart started pounding frantically in her chest. “Just take the Humvee and leave us alone, please,” she repeated.
“You don’t belong here,” the first man said. He was right behind Mary now, and she felt him pressing the barrel of his shotgun into the back of her head. “You lil’ city bitch, with your pretty hair, that tight ass…”
“Don’t talk like that to her!” James suddenly yelled. “You—”
A dull thud cut James’s off words, and Mary saw him flop forward onto the ground, knocked out from a sudden blow to the back of his head the second man had struck him with the butt of his rifle.
“If you hurt my kids,” Mary hissed, her protective motherly instinct filling her with fresh courage, “I’ll—”
“You’ll what, you little whore?” the first man growled into her ear, pressing the barrel of his shotgun more forcefully into the back of her head. “Don’t move, don’t even fuckin’ breathe,” he snarled. “Denny, keep your rifle on this skank while I frisk her.”
“I got her covered, Carl,” the second man said.
The first man’s breath was foul and humid, and the stink of it was making Mary gag as he put his grubby paws all over her. He found the pistol quickly enough and pulled it out of her pocket with a dark chuckle. “You even know how to use this?” he mocked. “Denny, take this .45,” he said to his friend, who took the pistol. He took Mary’s knife as well and unclipped her toolbelt and tossed it to the side. He then took her wallet out of her back pocket and flipped through it in the light of his gas lamp.
“Take the money and the cards if you want them,” she said, doing her best to stay calm.
“So your name’s Mary, is it?” the man said mockingly, examining her driver’s license. “And these are your lil’ lambs, then, huh?” He paused to laugh at his own stupid joke, but then his voice abruptly took on a much harder and more sinister tone. “Well, lil’ Mary, you and your lambs just ran into the big bad wolves … and we’re gon’ have ourselves some fun with y’all tonight.”
“Please, no,” Mary whimpered, suddenly feeling crushed and utterly helpless as she realized what was coming. “Just take the Hummer and leave us alone, please. Don’t do this, I’m begging you, please don’t do this.”
“Shut your goddamn mouth,” the man snarled. “I’m gon’ put something real tasty in that pretty lil’ mouth of yours, and you’re gon’ shut up and take it like a good lil’ whore.”
Tears started running down Mary’s cheeks as she heard the man, who was now breathing hard with excitement, standing up and unzipping his pants behind her. She couldn’t believe that she’d gotten this far and had survived everything she’d been through only for this to happen, so close to the end of her journey.
“I’m next, Carl. Jake can wait!” the second man said excitedly.
“Shut up, asshole,” the first man snarled, grabb
ing a fistful of Mary’s hair and yanking her head back. “You just keep your goddamn gun on—”
The loud crack of a rifle shot echoed through the night forest, startling a nearby flock of birds, who scattered in panicked flight and a chorus of squawks from the dark treetops. Behind Mary, her assailant dropped dead with a large hole blown through his skull.
“Oh shit, Jake, get your fuckin’—” the second man screamed, but he too was cut off by a crashing rifle shot from somewhere in the darkness, and his limp, dead body flopped down on top of Jake.
“You son of a bitch!” the last man howled, firing his revolver blindly into the forest in all directions. “Come out and fight me like a man, you—”
Once more, the rifle boomed, and the third man’s body slithered down the side of the Humvee, painting a broad slick of blood, brains, and skull fragments down the vehicle’s door. Then there was complete silence, and the only sounds Mary could hear were the gurgling rush of the river, the pounding of her pulse in her temples, and her ragged gasps of panicked breath. She didn’t dare to move, not knowing whether the hidden sniper was a friend or an even worse foe. She was frozen with fresh panic and a sense of complete and utter helplessness. She knew that she was now entirely at the mercy of the unknown shooter, and all she could do was stare in fear at the river water as it rushed obliviously over the rocks.
The light of her assailants’ gas lamps just reached over to the far side of the river, and then she saw a dark, lone figure materializing out of the trees. He was a man, tall and broad-shouldered, holding a hunting rifle, but beyond that, she couldn’t discern any details.
“Stand up,” the man called out across the rushing river. “You’re safe now.”
The moment Mary heard his voice, she almost fainted, for it was a voice she knew well but hadn’t heard for almost twenty years. “Dad!” she gasped, her head reeling.
“Welcome home, baby girl,” the man said. “Welcome home.”
EMP Survival In A Powerless World | Book 21 | The Darkest Day Page 12