Final Panic: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller (Surviving Book 2)

by Ryan Westfield

  As he continued to paddle, staring up at the brilliant sky, his mouth wide open, his eyes wide, Andy started to feel a sense of euphoria that he hadn’t felt since he was a child, rushing through a park on a summer night.

  He felt it in his chest, a sense of profound happiness.

  And he began laughing. Not a cackle, but a laugh of pure joy and exhilaration, a laugh that seemed to echo across the calm waters of the lake.

  He knew he’d make it.

  9

  Jim

  Jim knew something was wrong the moment he stepped around the corner of the house and saw the driveway.

  There was a body lying on the gravel.

  The front door to the house was wide open.

  He feared the worst.

  His heart started to pound.

  His hands and feet felt ice-cold.

  “What is it?” said Jessica.

  Jim didn’t answer.

  He couldn’t answer.

  His mind was flooded with fear.

  This was the moment that he’d feared above all else. The moment that he hadn’t even admitted to himself that he feared.

  If he went in there and Aly was dead on the floor, her skull smashed in, or her body riddled with bullet holes, what would he do?

  He was a strong man in a lot of ways, but if that happened, he’d collapse and be incapable of anything at all.

  If the attacker was still there, he doubted he’d even be able to fight. Sure, in the movies the man always became filled with rage and sought his vengeance with fervor and delight.

  But this was real life.

  And real life didn’t work like the movies.

  “Jim?”

  Jessica had her hand on his shoulder.

  Strangely, it was reassuring.

  “You OK?” she said.

  Jim shook it off.

  He got himself under control.

  He gave her a stiff nod.

  He had his Ruger in his hand, and he motioned for Jessica to follow him through the door.

  Jim moved swiftly.

  He was through the doorway.

  “Whoa!”

  It was Jordan, holding his hands in the air.

  Jim’s Ruger was inches away from Jordan’s face.

  “Where’s Aly?” he said.

  “In the bedroom. Put that thing away before you shoot one of us.”

  Jim was in the bedroom in a flash.

  Aly was there, on the bed. She looked fine.

  “You OK?” said Jim.

  “Yeah,” she said.

  “What happened? Is everyone OK?”

  “That new guy ran off with our stuff.”

  “What stuff?”

  “I don’t know. You told me not to get out of bed. And I don’t think I can move…”

  “You’re sure you’re OK?” said Jim.

  She nodded vigorously.

  Jessica appeared in the doorway. “He took off with a lot of our food… our medical supplies…”

  “Shit,” muttered Jim.

  He glanced at Jordan, who was just standing there dumbly with a sheepish look on his face. There was no point in saying anything to him.

  The damage had been done.

  And Jordan wasn’t going to be able to undo any of it.

  But maybe Jim could.

  “You stay here,” said Jim to Jessica. “I barely know what’s going on. We need someone guarding the house.”

  And with that, Jim dashed off, heading outside again.

  He was determined to get their food and gear back. His immediate fears, of his wife being dead, were gone. But new fears took their place.

  Sure, they could fish. They could hunt. They could get food from elsewhere. But there were a lot of people to feed. And they were already struggling on their low-calorie diets.

  Jim didn’t think they could go much lower in calories while retaining efficiency.

  Jim glanced down the driveway at the dead man.

  Who was he?

  “Rob?” called out Jim, as loud as he could.

  He heard a muffled yell from down by the lake.

  That was all he needed.

  He dashed off as quickly as he could, running with long strides, avoiding the protruding roots and rocks.

  Jim ran through the trees until he could see the water.

  And there was Rob.

  Down by the water, Rob sat with his knees bent and his head sunk low. He looked utterly defeated, like a broken-down machine that had long been cast aside.

  “What happened?” said Jim, his tone snappy.

  If Rob had given up, that was that. There wasn’t anything to do about it. Except to keep going and get the stuff back.

  “He took off. I thought I could catch him. I’ve failed, Jim. I failed you. I’m sorry.”

  “Enough of that,” snapped Jim. “Where’d he go?”

  For the first time, Jim saw that Rob was covered in blood. His handgun was still in his hand. Rob’s arm hung limply down, the gun resting partially on the ground.

  “The lake.”

  “The lake?”

  “He took a boat out.”

  “A boat?”

  “A canoe,” said Rob, not lifting his head up to look Jim in the eye.

  “Where’d he get a canoe?”

  “Dunno. Next door maybe. I saw him out on the water.”

  “Is he still there?”

  “Out of view.”

  “Where’d he go?”

  “Other side, I guess.”

  Rob scanned his eyes across the lake. There was no sign of the man or their gear. There was no boat in sight.

  There wasn’t time to ask Rob what had happened with the dead man in the driveway. Obviously, Rob had killed him.

  He’d have to find out later.

  “Get back to the house,” said Jim. “Pull yourself together. The others need you. I’m going after him.”

  “You’re going after him? How? There aren’t any more boats. I checked.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Just get back to the house.”

  Jim didn’t wait to see if Rob would get up and head back. There wasn’t time.

  Instead, Jim started running again. Running through the trees. Running with his long stride.

  He was full of adrenaline. He felt full of energy, although he knew consciously that it wouldn’t last forever.

  His body was doing everything it could to keep him going.

  He reached the next house in practically no time.

  Sure enough, there were no boats.

  Jim stood on the shore, panting, his chest heaving. He was out of breath. He was covered in sweat. His revolver was in his hand.

  The sun was shining. The clouds had parted.

  The lake had never looked more beautiful. And peaceful.

  But Jim’s mind was anything but peaceful. It was a turmoil of thoughts, panic, worry, and expectation.

  He needed that gear.

  He’d do anything to get it.

  As far as he was concerned, that gear was the line between life and death. Not just for him. But for Aly. And others too.

  He had to think of them.

  He could see the shore off in the distance. It was just a small little line across the lake, with trees rising above it, looking like miniature versions of themselves.

  It was a long way off.

  But he could get there.

  He was a strong swimmer.

  Or he had been.

  He’d been on the swim team in high school. He’d almost made state his senior year, only missing the qualifying time by a couple of seconds in one of the last meets of the season.

  Freestyle had been his specialty.

  He could do it.

  He kicked off his boots, secured his Ruger in his holster, making sure it was secured tightly.

  Next, he stripped off his shirt. It would only weigh him down and increase the drag.

  As he moved into the water, a memory surfaced from somewhere far back in his min
d.

  Many summers ago, when he’d been in fifth grade, or maybe sixth, his parents had sent him to a camp down in Pennsylvania for a couple weeks. They’d always been cautious with their money, and it wasn’t like them to spend on something “frivolous” like summer camp for a kid.

  But for some reason, they’d sent him there and paid the bill. Later, his mother had confessed that his father had thought he’d needed to toughen up a lot, and that a work friend of his father’s had once suggested the camp.

  And the camp had proved to be tough. It wasn’t something that Jim thought about much, but he supposed that it had given him some of the attitudes he still held to this day.

  ==

  During the first week of camp, he’d learned that one of the camp’s “requirements” was to swim across the lake. All alone.

  So that’s what he’d done.

  He’d never known the consequences for not swimming across the lake.

  But he’d feared them.

  And he’d feared drowning.

  In reality, looking back on it, there’d been a counselor there in a rowboat nearby, ready to haul exhausted or drowning kids back into the safety of the air-filled world.

  He’d done it then. He could do it now.

  He could make it.

  Of course, this lake was a lot bigger than the little camp lake in Pennsylvania.

  And, sure, he was stronger and bigger now. But he was also severely underfed. And exhausted. He hadn’t been sleeping much. His body wasn’t adjusting well to the severe lack of calories, and the stress of it kept him up awake on the rare occasions that he was supposed to be sleeping, and not on watch. He was shedding weight fast, and it wasn’t just fat. He was losing a lot of muscle, as people do when they under-eat.

  Jim’s feet were wet now. He was wading into the lake.

  Now he was waist deep.

  There was no point in putting it off any longer.

  He launched himself forward. Moments later, he was swimming, his arms pumping and his feet kicking.

  The water was cold.

  It felt strange to swim in his pants. They produced a lot of drag. Maybe he should have taken them off.

  Jim swam, and swam some more.

  It seemed like there was an endless expanse of water in front of him.

  He had a long way to go.

  And a fight after that. If he was lucky.

  A lot was at stake.

  10

  Rob

  Rob had somehow dragged himself back into the lake house. He was covered in blood and brains, and bits of skull stuck to his hand and on his sleeve.

  “Looks like you need a drink,” said Aly’s uncle, who seemed to tower over him.

  But Jordan made no move to get Rob a drink.

  And Rob didn’t want one.

  He wanted to curl up and disappear.

  Rob was sitting cross-legged on the floor.

  He felt like a little kid. Lost and confused. And like he’d failed.

  He didn’t feel like a man.

  “I shouldn’t have let him get away,” said Rob.

  “Nope,” said Jordan, shaking his head in a pompous way. “You shouldn’t have.”

  “We’re screwed,” said Rob. “We’re completely screwed. What are we going to do?”

  “Hell if I know,” said Jordan. “You’re the ones with the plan.”

  Jessica was outside, on watch, probably circling the house.

  “Jim’ll get it all back,” said someone.

  Rob looked up.

  It was Aly who’d spoken. She was standing in the doorway.

  “Standing” might have been an exaggeration. It was more like she was propping herself up, barely holding onto the frame.

  “You shouldn’t be out of bed,” said Jordan, eyeing her. But he made no move to help her.

  “I’m fine,” said Aly. But she was breathing heavily from the effort of getting herself out of bed.

  Even in his distraught state, Rob popped up and rushed over to her. He got her arm around him for support, and he put his arm around her. Together, they walked slowly to the couch and he slowly lowered her onto it.

  “You need a pillow or something?” said Rob, looking down at her.

  “I’m fine, Rob. But you know what you could do for me?”

  “What?”

  “Clean up. You’re disgusting.”

  Rob looked down at himself. He saw the blood. He saw the bits of bone.

  He let out a nervous laugh.

  “All right,” he muttered. “But you really shouldn’t have gotten out of bed.”

  Rob made his way to the kitchen, where there was a bucket of “gray” water. It was water that had already been used for some purpose or another, usually cleaning related. He figured he didn’t need, or deserve, the pristine stuff. No point in wasting it on himself. Not now.

  By the time he was cleaner, he felt a little better.

  He made his way back into the living room, and he was still mentally beating himself up, still feeling down.

  But Aly started talking, and soon enough he was feeling better.

  She told him how he’d done a great job with the guy who was threatening them. She told him how Jim would certainly get their stuff back, and how everything was going to work out OK.

  Rob didn’t believe all of it. But he believed enough of it.

  After all, maybe there was a chance that Jim would get the stuff back. He was a strong swimmer, after all. And he knew how to shoot.

  “He’ll never catch him,” said Jordan, speaking in a snarl out of the corner of his mouth.

  “You don’t know that,” said Aly.

  “From what Rob said, the cop has a boat. And Jim doesn’t have a boat. How’s he going to catch him?”

  “He’ll swim. And then he’ll catch him on land.”

  “But the other guy’s a cop.”

  “So what?”

  “He knows what to do. He understands things.”

  “Then why’d he steal our stuff?”

  “Beats me,” muttered Jordan. “Maybe he saw that it wasn’t worth hanging around. Frankly, if all of you had done a better job with this place, maybe he’d have stayed and we’d have some real protection around here.”

  “How can you say that?” said Aly, starting to sound really angry.

  “It’s pretty easy,” said Jordan. “Because it’s the truth. And watch your tone with me. I’m letting you stay here. Don’t you forget that.”

  “There’s nothing to forget,” said Rob, taking a step forward towards Jordan.

  Jordan took a step back.

  Rob took another step forward.

  Rob was huge compared to Jordan, who was tall enough, but too thin. It was like he was wasting away.

  “You going to fight me or something?” said Jordan. “That’s no way for a guest to treat their host, is it now?”

  “The way I see it,” said Rob, speaking slowly and deliberately, despite his anger. “The only reason you’re going to survive is because of us. If we hadn’t been here, the house would have been overrun by the neighbors. They would have stolen everything useful, which wasn’t much. Because pretty much all you had in here was old empty bottles and food wrappers.”

  “You’re missing the point,” said Jordan. But he said it weakly, as if he wasn’t so sure that he was getting the point.

  “No,” said Rob. “You’re missing the point. We’re not guests here. You’re the guest here. Because you haven’t done anything useful yet. All you’ve done is complain about us. Well, I don’t care whose name is on the deed to the house, because it doesn’t make any difference now. The world’s changed, and there are no more deeds. The fact that you own this property means nothing. We’re the ones who possess it, take care of it, and defend it. We’re the ones who think about the supplies, about…”

  “Rob…” said Aly, weakly, from the couch, as if she was trying to get him to settle down.

  “Let me finish, Aly,” said Rob. “This is impo
rtant.” Rob took another step forward.

  Jordan tried to take another step back, but his heel hit the wall. He glanced behind him and to the side, as if looking for an exit. He was clearly intimidated by Rob’s big size. And he was clearly trying to pretend like he wasn’t.

  “Here’s the thing,” said Rob. “You need an attitude adjustment. You’re either going to have to start helping out, or you’ve got to go. I don’t care if you’re Aly’s uncle or you ‘own’ the house. I just don’t care.”

  Rob leaned forward towards Jordan as he spoke.

  It was a strange feeling, speaking those words. Because back before the EMP, he’d always been the one getting lectures from his bosses on “attitude adjustments.” It had always seemed like garbage to him, mostly because he knew that the work he was doing was meaningless at best.

  But now it all had meaning.

  The meaning was to survive.

  They had to survive.

  And to survive, they all had to work together.

  The room was heavy with silence.

  Rob finally took a step back.

  “Damn, man,” muttered Jordan, as he scurried out of the way, finally free from being cornered against the wall.

  “Do you hear that?” said Aly.

  “Hear what?”

  “Just shut up and listen for a second.”

  Rob did as he was told. He knew enough to take Aly seriously.

  She must have had better hearing than he did because he didn’t hear it for about twenty more seconds.

  Then he heard it.

  Rumbling, throaty engines.

  More than one.

  Probably a few.

  It sounded like motorcycles.

  Soon enough, he could hear the sound of fat tires crunching on the gravel.

  The three of them exchanged looks.

  “This isn’t good,” said Aly.

  Rob looked at Jordan. “This is your chance. What’s it going to be?”

  “What’s it going to be? What are you talking about?”

  “Are you going to help? Or are you going to cower in the house and complain about us later.”

  Jordan cast his eyes down to the floor. He looked ashamed. Good. Maybe he was finally getting it. Maybe he was finally understanding.

  “Get me a gun,” he said.

  A few seconds later, there was a gun in his hands.