The Last Fight: A Post Apocalyptic EMP Thriller (Surviving the EMP Book 3)
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He didn’t like being aggressive.
But this was his place.
He’d made a promise to Farmer Stan to protect it with his life.
And if they didn’t like it, they could make their own choices.
He wasn’t losing this place. He wasn’t giving it up.
And he wasn’t letting anything jeopardise that.
“Now get back to work,” Jack said, as he stood up and turned around. “There’s animals to feed. There’s grass to cut. There’s plenty to be done out there. It won’t do itself.”
He stepped out of the house.
He held his breath all the way.
He couldn’t get that image of his own son staring at him with such hate out of his mind.
Chapter Three
Three weeks earlier…
When Jack saw the two people approaching from the distance, he raised his Remington 700 rifle.
It was another stifling day. They’d been at the farm for four days now. There had been a little rainfall earlier in the week, enough to water the crops, but Jack feared it didn’t look like raining again for a long, long time.
He was fast finding out the fine balances and compromises needed in running a farm like this.
Jack squinted at the people approaching. Looked like a man and a woman from here. The way they were walking together, holding hands, right onto his land… it concerned him.
He’d teach them a lesson.
He’d tell them exactly where to go.
The door behind Jack creaked. Hazel stepped out. Villain appeared alongside her, panting away. Villain had really taken to Hazel these last few days, which irritated Jack a little. For all the times he’d looked out for Villain… after all the bad blood from the past between him and Hazel… all that history and he was sleeping with the enemy.
Hazel stepped towards him, concern in her eyes. “Jack?”
He turned away from her. Focused on the approaching group. The more he focused, the more he swore he could see something else with them. A dog perhaps? Looked too small to be a dog.
And yet it couldn’t be a cat, because it was on a lead.
What kind of idiot kept a cat on a lead?
“Is there a problem?” Hazel asked.
Jack nodded. Pointed ahead.
“Don’t you think we should… well, ask what they want before we start pointing rifles at them?”
“If they’ve nothing to hide, they’ve no reason to fear the rifles being pointed at them.”
Hazel tilted her head. “Fair point. But still. Can’t we just give someone a chance for once? I haven’t seen you give anyone a chance yet.”
He looked at her and he sighed. He felt for Hazel. She’d lost everyone. Her husband, Pete, was at the other side of the country, way too out of reach to even begin attempting to find now.
Not that Jack cared about Pete. His old best friend had been dead to him a long time, as far as he was concerned.
But then there was Wayne.
Jack sighed when he thought of Wayne. His son. Jack started this whole journey and put everything on the line in an attempt to find him. Only he’d reached a dead end. Wayne wasn’t at his university home. And as much as they could keep on searching, keep on trying to find him, it was about time they faced the truth and accepted it.
He was gone.
He was out there somewhere, but he was gone.
And they were never going to see him again.
Jack regretted a lot about the way he’d raised his son—or rather, the lack of raising he’d done since his relationship with Hazel fell apart.
But he knew one thing. His son was strong. He’d find his way in this world, one way or another.
He went to lift the rifle higher when he heard something.
Hazel.
She was crying.
He looked at her and frowned.
She was staring ahead into the distance, eyes glued to those two people, to that… well, it looked like a cat, so that’s what it must be.
“Hazel?” Jack said.
“Wayne,” she said.
Jack frowned. “Hazel, I…”
“Wayne,” she said. “It’s—it’s Wayne.”
It hit him suddenly, like a punch to the gut.
He turned around and realised what he was looking at. What Hazel was talking about.
Who she was talking about.
The guy in the distance.
The guy walking towards this farm, that bloody cat by his side.
“Wayne?” he said.
It was a few seconds later that Wayne stopped.
He was taller, of course. Well built. He had a rugged look to him, with high cheekbones and bright green eyes. He had a little stubble, and his brown hair looked in good condition even in this humidity, even after everything he must’ve been through.
He didn’t believe it was Wayne. He couldn’t accept that Wayne was this man before him.
But there was no doubting it.
Wayne looked at his mum. His eyes wide. His cheeks flushing.
Hazel stood there shaking her head, crying, smiling.
“Wayne,” she said. “My boy. My boy!”
She ran towards him, and he ran towards her.
And as Jack watched this reunion, he wanted desperately to be a part of it. He wanted nothing more than to open his arms and hold his son and apologise for everything that had happened and move on. Move forward. Together.
But he couldn’t.
That was the most painful thing about this situation.
He knew this wasn’t his moment.
He could only watch.
Hazel and Wayne slammed against each other. Jack could see them both crying. Shaking. Shock and surprise on their faces.
He gave them their moment. Then, he walked over to them, slowly, heart racing, face warm. Villain wandered by his side before stopping right in front of that cat on a lead, tilting his head and growling at it, as it growled back.
He looked at the girl beside his son—his damned son—and he smiled at her. Short. Thin. Red haired. Little freckles across her face. She smiled back at him. Was this Wayne’s girlfriend? Was this his future wife? Would Jack be sitting on a top table with her near him at a wedding one day in the…
He looked at Wayne and he saw something.
Hazel was saying things to him. Whispering. Telling him things were going to be okay. To keep his cool and not lose his shit.
And then Wayne moved around her. He walked over to Jack. Eyes fixed on Jack, wide with… confusion? Or sadness? Or disappointment? Jack didn’t know.
He stopped, right in front of Jack. They stared at one another, right into each other’s eyes.
Jack’s heart raced.
The moment he’d been waiting so many years for, right here, right now.
“Hi, son,” he said, desperately searching for the right words to say. “There’s a lot I—”
Wayne pulled back a fist and cracked him across the jaw.
Jack tasted blood in his mouth. He looked around at Wayne, into his tearful eyes.
“Don’t you dare call me ‘son’,” he said.
He walked past Jack. The girl he was with followed closely behind, looking a little less certain now.
That cat glowered at Jack, letting out a little growl.
Jack watched his son make his way towards the farm, Hazel not far behind him now.
After all these years, the reunion he’d so desperately waited for was finally here.
It just wasn’t playing out quite as he’d expected.
Chapter Four
Logan took a deep breath when he saw the town ahead.
The skies were cloudy, and there was an intense humidity to the air. He could smell the sweat from himself and the people around him. There was a furriness to his mouth, mostly down to the fact he hadn’t been adequately able to brush his teeth for a while. He knew how important oral care was in a world after dentistry. It was all about protection and prevention, because if you en
ded up with an abscess in a society where care was non-existent, you were screwed.
Logan knew he should take his dental hygiene more seriously. But it always slipped to the bottom of the list of priorities behind gathering water, finding food, making shelter. There was only so much time in every day, after all.
And it was the town ahead that occupied the most of his attention right now.
The streets were abandoned. Cars sat at the side of the road. Windows were smashed. There was litter in the streets. Rats chased one another around, as common now as pigeons were before. Fallen lampposts lay right across the streets. Buildings, those of which were still standing, were boarded up and silent. Many had burned down, blackened in the many uncontrollable fires that broke out in the early days.
It was just like every other town.
“You sure this is a good idea?”
Logan looked around. It was Candice who had spoken. He’d been on the road with her for a month now, since the pair of them had been saved from captivity by Emma and Jean, a somewhat Gothic girl with a strong mind and a lack of patience for bullshit.
It was just the four of them now. One of their friends—Calvin—had died, sacrificing himself for the rest of his people.
And their journey so far hadn’t been easy.
It had been testing in so many ways. Days without eating adequately. Weeks without sleeping adequately.
But all of it was better than risking their union being torn apart by outsiders.
“We need to make our way through here,” Logan said. “See what we can salvage.”
“And you don’t think it’s too risky?” Candice asked.
Logan looked at her again and saw that usual trepidation. She didn’t trust him. She never had. She knew who he was. Logan the Butcher, they called him. Murdered a family. Murdered a kid.
Except that wasn’t how it went down. He’d gone to avenge his family’s death, sure. But it was the man he’d gone to kill—David Hayson—who had killed his wife and her daughter.
It wasn’t Logan.
It wasn’t him.
He wasn’t a monster.
But people believed what they wanted to believe. And it was very hard to shake that mud once you were doused in it.
“We pass through here. We gather whatever we can. Any leftover supplies. Anything that looks like it’ll come in handy. Then we keep moving.”
He went to walk.
“And then?”
Logan turned. It was Emma who spoke this time.
He looked into that little girl’s eyes. She had trusted him since day one. She’d believed in him when no one else had.
And he had sworn to protect her and keep her safe, no matter what.
But she was the one standing up to him now.
And it wasn’t the first time.
“Emma, we’ve talked about this.”
“We’ve been walking for weeks.” She was skinnier now. Paler. Her voice was shaky. “And we’ve had chances to find new people. To join new groups who could help us. But you won’t let it happen.”
“I won’t let it happen because I know it’s not safe.”
“You’ve not even given them a chance,” Emma said.
Logan sighed. She was a good kid. Kind-hearted. She saw the good in people. She was hopeful. Optimistic. Intelligent and articulate beyond her thirteen years.
But she wasn’t realistic.
Logan knew what people were really like.
“We keep moving,” Logan said. “Through the town. And you know what I’ve always said. If we find a suitable group, we—”
“Will we ever find one?” she asked.
Logan wanted to respond, but he couldn’t.
Because as he stood there, Candice and Jean both looking on, he knew the truth, deep down.
“We’ll do our best to…”
He stopped because he heard something.
A shuffling up ahead.
When he spun around, he saw movement.
The hairs on his arms stood on end.
There were two people standing there.
Two blokes.
Both peering over the backs of stationary cars.
Knives in hand.
Logan tightened his grip around his knife, his protective instinct kicking in.
“Logan,” Emma said.
But it was too late.
Logan raced down the street. He threw himself towards those people. He’d seen the way they looked at Emma and the others. He knew they were a threat.
And threats needed to be dealt with.
He raced further down the road, right over to the car.
And when he was just inches away from it, he heard Emma behind him.
“Don’t,” she called.
He looked around.
The men were gone.
He went to turn back when he felt something.
A smack, right against his side.
He looked down and saw one of the men—bald, skinny, yellow teeth—had punched him.
The knife in his other hand.
Ready to plough it between his ribs.
Logan looked at him through narrowed eyes, hate burning through.
And then he rammed his knife into this guy’s throat.
He pulled it out. Felt his blood splatter down his wrist.
And then he turned to face the other man.
He stood there. Knife in hand. Horror in his eyes.
He went to run away.
“Logan!”
But Logan couldn’t let him get away.
He couldn’t let anyone slip away.
He raced after him. When he caught up with him, he wrestled him to the road.
“Please!” the man begged. “Pl—”
Logan didn’t hesitate.
He slammed the knife into his chest.
He kneeled over this bleeding man. He knew he’d done what he’d had to.
Emma, Candice and Jean approached.
He went to stand.
Then he noticed something.
In the man’s hand, beside the knife, there was a little locket.
On that locket, a photograph of a little girl.
He looked up into his dying eyes as he bled out, then saw the rucksack on his shoulder, saw the things in it. The colouring book. The crayons.
He saw it all, and he felt guilt creep right through his system.
The memory flashed in his eyes.
The memory he pushed back.
The memory he suppressed.
He looked around and saw Emma’s horrified eyes staring right at him.
They saw what he was.
Just how ruthless he was.
His true self.
Logan the Butcher.
He looked away from the body. Convinced himself he’d done what he had to do. He’d done the right thing.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”
Chapter Five
Logan didn’t say much the rest of that day.
The night approached quickly. They’d spent a full day on the road. Their visit to the small town hadn’t been as lucrative as Logan was hoping. They found a few tins of beans, and some cheap tabs of paracetamol, things like that—which would of course come in handy.
But the events that’d gone down were more significant.
The way he’d seen those two people, knives in hand.
The way he’d attacked them, not giving them a chance to explain themselves, or to get away.
And the way he’d found the locket of that little girl in the palm of one of the guy’s hands.
Logan looked over his shoulder. Candice, Jean, and Emma were all walking together. They glanced away as soon as he made eye contact with them, which told him all he needed to know. They’d been talking about him. Judging him for his actions.
And could he blame them, really?
He was who he was. He’d sworn to protect Emma. To keep her safe.
He’d go to any length to keep that promise.
He stopped. Looked around, saw them all staring at him again.
“We’ve made a decision,” Candice said.
Logan’s stomach sank. He knew that whatever decision had been made was going to be one he didn’t want to hear.
“Enlighten me,” he said.
Candice looked around at Emma, and then at Jean. She stuttered, tried to get her words out.
It was Emma who stepped in. “We have to find another way, Logan. We—we have to do things differently.”
“Differently? What’s that supposed to mean?”
Emma looked at the road. “It means… it means you’re going to have to change. Or we’re going to have to leave you.”
Logan felt a void open up the moment he heard Emma’s words. He’d done so much for these people, put so much on the line for these people, and now they were turning their backs on him.
He cleared his throat. “And what are you planning on doing when I’m not around?”
Candice went to speak again, but Emma cut in once more. “We’ll find a way.”
“A way? What’s that supposed to m—”
“We’ll find someone else,” she said. “Another group. People. People who can trust us. People who we can trust. ’Cause we can’t keep going on like this, Logan. I… I’m thankful for everything you’ve done. But we can’t keep going on like this. Attacking people we’re not sure about. Killing people.”
“They had knives.”
“They were running away.”
Logan opened his mouth to protest, but he realised it was falling on deaf ears.
It was a thirteen-year-old girl who was holding up the moral high ground.
And the hardest part?
Logan knew she was right.
He rubbed his fingers against his forehead. “The things we’ve encountered on the road. The depths people are willing to sink to. The violence. The ruthlessness. We can’t forget that. I’m… I’m trying to do the right thing. For you. For all of you.”
“Then try harder,” Emma said. This last month on the road, the things they’d done to survive, the things they’d seen… they’d hardened her. “Or lose us. Your choice.”
Logan felt like giving it all up, right then. He wanted nothing more than to keep Emma safe. But now she was threatening severing ties with him. Was this his chance to walk away and pursue that independent life he’d desired all along?