Grid Down: A Strike against America - An EMP Survival Story- Book Two (5 page)

Like clockwork, Antonio lunged at the man like a wildcat and grabbed at his pistol with both hands, struggling to take it away. The man stumbled back as Antonio, half his size, fell into him in a fevered attempt to wrestle the gun from his hands.

“Run!” he shouted.

Josh tried, but his legs remained frozen onto the ground. He watched the bizarre struggle, unsure of what to do. He watched as Antonio pulled his pocketknife out and thrust it into the man’s chest. A gargled scream erupted from the man’s windpipe, followed by an ear-splitting gun blast.

Josh jumped back, flinching. Antonio screamed, clutched his chest, and collapsed onto his knees then stretched out on the ground. The man stumbled back, cursing, and yanked the knife from his chest, throwing it on the ground. His hand gripped the pistol as smoke rose from its barrel. It was like something out of a dream. Antonio lay on the ground, twitching. His eyes were wide with shock, staring upward.

Echoes of the gunshot rang through the air, pulsing then fading. Dogs barked in the distance. The man gasped for air and stumbled toward Josh with his pistol swaying. “The name’s Jasper, you little shits. And you’re next!”

Josh’s flight instincts kicked in. He sprinted off without looking back as another shot whizzed past. His adrenaline had gone into high gear. He ran as fast as he could toward the shadowy neighborhood as sweat and tears poured down his face. The man shouted at him to stop and fired again. Josh felt his heart going into hyperdrive. Nothing was going to stop him. He had no idea what had happened but feared the worst.

Did Antonio just get shot? Nothing made sense. He couldn’t see or think clearly. His only objective was to find someone—anyone who could help them. The surroundings looked familiar. It was the town he knew. A premonition turned him in the opposite direction of the neighborhood, and he sped off down the road toward the highway. He’d only gone a short distance when he saw it: a large wall, with no apparent way around or over it. He was trapped. Several men came out of nowhere and launched themselves on him with the precision of scud missiles. They tackled him onto the hard pavement—three men in all. They pummeled his back, his head, his stomach, and he could hardly breathe. His lungs felt paralyzed. He didn’t even know what was happening. Somehow, he managed to get to his feet and began stumbling away.

“Get him!” he heard. “Get that little bastard.”

Jasper’s voice closed in, full of vengeance. Jasper tackled Josh, brought him to the ground, and delivered a swift punch to the face. Then everything went black. 

The cold morning air drifted through the camp. A sheet of fog obscured the cabins like a sinister blanket. Mila was outside, trying to stay busy—anything to keep her mind occupied. She was in the process of salvaging her modest vegetable garden by spreading a thin bedsheet over their sweet peppers and cucumbers. But there was little she could do to take her mind off of Josh and Kelly.

She was sickened with fear. The thought of her children at the mercy of madmen crippled her physically and mentally. Her legs shook. She dry-heaved with panic, and no matter how often she told herself that everything would be all right, nothing could alleviate her anxiety. And she wasn’t alone.

The absence of their children punctuated the daily drudgery of camp life in ways Mila had never imagined. She walked around the side of their cabin to where their freshwater pump was implanted into the ground. Having to scrape by off the grid with their meager supplies and resources was hard enough. But now it was time to fight back.

Inside the quiet cabin, she went straight to her room, where Rob lay in bed on top of the covers.

“Let’s go,” she said. “I can’t take it anymore.” The floorboards creaked under her frantic pacing.

Startled, Rob’s eyes opened, and he sat up. He was still wearing his jacket and pants. 

He rubbed his eyes and looked around, dazed. “What time is it?”

“It’s morning,” she said, standing over him. She touched his leg and spoke in a calm but serious way. “We have two options.”

“What’s that?” Rob said, wiping his face.

“We go into town, talk with that phony mayor, get our children back, or I lose my mind.”

Rob beckoned her to sit on the bed. When she did, he put his arm around her.

“Mila… We talked about this. We’re outnumbered and he knows it.”

“So what,” she said. “There has to be a way.”

“There is. We find people who can help us. Why all the doubt?”

Mila shook her head and rose from the bed. “I can’t wait for that. We need to do something now. The thought of Josh and Kelly at the hands of those people…” She paused and walked to the fogged window where tree branches swayed in the bitter wind. “I can’t take it anymore.”

Rob swung around and hung his legs off the bed, struggling to respond. “I’ll… I’ll take the truck into town and talk with them. Put an end to this nightmare.”

Mila turned with her arms crossed. “You’re not going alone.”

“Carlos will go.”

“
I’ll
go.”

Mila was on the warpath, and Rob knew it would be impossible to have her wait another day or two. His carefully laid strategy had been blown out of the water.

She leaned against the end of the mattress, pressing it down. “All we need to do is convince those bastards that we have more numbers than he thinks we do.”

They looked into each other’s eyes, sensing a compromise. But the plan wasn’t clear just yet. There was a lot to work out, and the sense of urgency could not have been greater. Mila found her sadness fading and a burning anger taking its place.

Rob gathered the camp in the pillaged meeting area. Winter jackets were out in full force.

Just the other day, the sun was out, with no hint of winter on the horizon. Rob stood at the podium, vapor flowing from his mouth. Carlos and Mayra sat huddled together, their faces worn with exhaustion. Brad and Ashlee sat nearby with Peter and Krystal behind them, sipping coffee from a thermos. Elliott and Reba were still sleeping, and Rob didn’t want to bother them.

Mila stood behind everyone, observing, with hope that Rob could rally them to the cause.

“It’s been a restless night for many of us,” he began. “And it’s time we go into town and do what we need to do.”

“We have the numbers now?” Carlos asked.

“No,” Rob said, pausing. “But they won’t know that.”

Peter raised his hand. “Rob, uh… what are you getting at?”

Rob stepped closer with his gloved hands clasped over each other. “I propose that we drive our vehicles into town and offer a trade for the kids.”

Silence followed as their eyes widened. The very notion of giving away their vehicles was madness. But Rob expected resistance.

Carlos responded calmly. “The mayor has a truck. What is he going to want with our vehicles?”

“Because he knows how helpless we’ll be without them,” Rob answered.

Mayra cut in. “They took the children because they were losing. How do you know that he won’t just kill us?”

“We can’t give him that option.” Rob glanced at Mila. She nodded back at him in approval.

Peter spoke up. “All the vehicles? That’s suicide.”

“I propose we take three vehicles and offer him two,” Rob said.

Silence filled the air again. Their faces were uncertain. 

Carlos thought to himself and nodded. “Sounds almost reasonable. But very risky.”

“I agree,” Rob said. “If those criminals detect any weakness on our part, we’re finished. That’s why I want to take our best shooters… Mayra, Brad, and Elliott. I’ll need you to sneak into town ahead of us and take positions.”

“Where
is
Elliott?” Carlos asked.    

Rob sighed. “I was hoping not to involve him, but… looks like we have no choice.”

“Reba will throw a fit,” Mayra said.

“Whose cars are we taking?” Brad asked.

“Mila and I will take my Datsun. Carlos and Mayra, what do you think about throwing your station wagon into the pot?” Rob said.

The couple looked at each other, unsure.

Brad spoke up. “Take my car.”

Mayra turned. “No, Brad.”

“Please,” he said. “Whatever it takes to get my children back.”

Carlos took Mayra’s hand. “Listen to him. The station wagon’s too big. We don’t have enough gas.”

“We’ll work out all the details soon. Let’s get ready,” Rob said.

The group seemed energized at the thought. They were going to take control of the situation. No more waiting around.             

“We move today,” Rob added, stepping off the small platform. 

He walked over to Mila and took her hand. Her face was free of fear and doubt. She looked ready to take down an army of men.

***

Arthur felt at home in his office in the modest two-story building that housed the town hall. He and some of his top enforcers were beginning to take their jobs more seriously as self-proclaimed officials. They had gotten away with so much so far, and the townspeople were nothing if not broken. Nothing had yet gotten in their way. Resistance was nonexistent. Outside police and military forces had not yet interfered in their plans. This was strange considering news from the city, where rumors of a militarized zone had reached the ears of many. 

Tartarus had been in existence for two and a half months. During that time, the town had had no power, running water, or working vehicles. They were off the grid—isolated and segregated from any nearby populated areas. Completion of the wall ensured that much. It also prevented escape among the townspeople. What is running a town when you have no people to control? There was also a litany of problems to attend to. Winter was at their heels, and there was no oil or electricity to heat their homes.

No coal or wood furnaces or heaters, either. It could not have been more to Arthur’s liking. Desperate times ensured Arthur’s vision of a community subject to his every whim. So far, his feud with the mountain people had worked entirely in his favor. The townspeople were more frightened of outsiders than ever. But Arthur had one main problem, and as he called his team into the dim conference room, he let them know just how displeased he was.

“I want to know how it happened. Every. Single. Detail.”

Arthur glared at them. Larry and Jerome sat on one side of the conference table, Dwayne and Nathan on the other. Standing near a window, next to an American flag, was Arthur’s loyal wife, Teresa. She had been taking a more active role in their affairs since the conflict with the mountain people, and she was every bit as shrewd and domineering as her husband.

They were supposed to discuss plans on getting heat into the homes of residents, and to prepare for the risk of house fires, all too common as of late. Instead, they discussed the circumstances surrounding the shooting death of one of their young captives. The boy, Antonio, had been shot trying to escape with another boy, who was later captured. The boy’s death, though not particularly meaningful to Arthur, was a display of incompetence. Arthur moved around the table like a mad general, waiting for answers.

“What were the boys even doing outside in the first place?” Arthur held his hands out. “It-it’s unconscionable.”

Larry cleared his throat. “From what I heard, they told Jasper that they wanted to talk to you. Had information to tell you about their parents.”

“Oh!” Arthur said in a mocking tone. “I suppose if the boys had told Jasper to make them a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, he would have gotten right on it, right?”

Larry looked at Jerome, who then looked at Dwayne. All men were at a loss for words. Teresa stepped forward and continued the questioning. “What the mayor is saying is that we’re all very aware of
what
happened. What we want to know is
why
it happened.”

“It’s like we said,” Nathan cut in. “I mean, Jasper isn’t exactly the sharpest drill in the toolbox, but he means well.”

“He
means
well?” Arthur hissed.

“He made a mistake,” Nathan said.

“Let me explain something here,” Arthur said. “Those kids are high-value commodities. Any day now, our friends in the mountains are going to come here and try to rescue them. But we don’t have much leverage with dead kids, now do we?”

Arthur strode to the front of the table and stopped. “We’re damn lucky it wasn’t Rob’s son. Either way, we’re looking at an all-out war over this.”

“Why not just finish what we started?” Jerome asked in his low, baritone voice. “What else is there to talk about?”

Arthur closed his eyes and sighed. “I don’t want them dead—I want them taken to the steps of the town hall and made to kneel before me as though I was their king. That’s what I want!”

“We need to just kill the bastards,” Larry said. “We’re playing with fire here, and your damn ego is blinding you to the fact.”

Arthur turned away without saying a word. The room went uncomfortably silent.

“Larry…” Teresa began.

“That’s quite all right, dear. Larry has a point,” Arthur said. He slowly turned to face the room. “My eyes are more open than ever. You fools know how to pillage a town, sure, but you know nothing of wielding permanent power.” He took a wide stance and clasped his hands in front of his chest. “These are the times we live in. And you better start thinking in the long term. The shooting of one of their kids puts everything at risk. It gives our enemies the high ground. We want to use the threat of violence against their children but not actually carry it out. If you gentlemen can’t understand that, then you are in dire need of some political perspective.”

Arthur stared them down, and no one seemed sure how to respond. The convicts who made up his trusted freemen inner-circle, they were dangerous men. They could easily kill him if they wanted to. But for some reason, they neither desired nor planned such a move. Arthur brought stability to the table, controlled anarchy, and they respected him for it.

“I want Jasper taken off guard duty. Put him on the wall and make an example of him,” Arthur said.

“Whoa,” Nathan said. “Jasper was my cellmate. I’m not about to send him up the river like that. He’s earned his way, just like the rest of us. You reduce him to a prisoner working on that damn wall of yours, it’ll crush him.”

              Arthur shook his head. “Well, I’d hate to hurt the man’s feelings, but that’s what’s going to happen.”

Nathan balled his fist and jumped up from his chair, startling everyone. Teresa backed against the window as Nathan’s nostrils flared. “Do you hear me? I’m not going to let that happen to him. Period!”

Arthur remained calm. “If it bothers you so much, Nathan, you can join him.”

Nathan looked shocked, glancing at his fellow convicts, but their eyes were cast downward. “Go to hell yourself, Mr. Mayor. I think I’ve had enough of your shit.” He pulled a pistol out from his side holster and aimed it right between Arthur’s eyes.

“Nathan! Dude. You lost your mind?” Jerome said.

Arthur leaned back and crossed his arms, staring at the pistol. “What are you doing?”

“Something we should have done a long time ago.” He held the pistol steady. Arthur said nothing. Nathan then heard a click behind him.

“How about you stop pointing your gun at my husband,” Teresa said, pushing her pistol against his skull.

Nathan froze. Arthur shrugged and nodded. “I think you better do what she says, Tex.”

The standoff was interrupted by the sound of a car engine from outside, growing closer by the moment. Everyone stopped to listen. Nathan lowered his pistol. “What the hell?” he shouted.

Teresa backed up and went to the window to look out. They were on the second story and had a good, long view. Arthur listened as the engine grew louder, then he turned and joined Teresa at the window as the other men rose from their chairs. Then they all rushed over to join Teresa and Arthur. The window overlooked Main Street. They could see two vehicles driving fast down the road, toward the town hall. The lead car was a small red Datsun with a driver and passenger. An old four-door Jeep Cherokee followed. It was tan, with side wood panels and a rack on top.

As they rapidly approached, they gained the attention of everyone within earshot. People stopped in their tracks and stood with their mouths agape. Even the armed freemen didn’t seem to know how to respond. The men at the wall stopped working. Arthur leaned closer, trying to get a better look at who the driver in the red car was. A trail of thick, black exhaust billowed from the Cherokee. They both looked to be very old cars—relics of another time and place. Something from the 1970s or 80s. Arthur’s initial panic subsided when he began to make some connections. Older vehicles, so it appeared, were immune from the effects of the electromagnetic pulses that had destroyed the circuitry of most modern vehicles. That would explain their own military cargo truck working. That would explain why Rob and his prepper friends in the mountains did in fact have vehicles. His instincts told him as much.

He turned from the window and slammed his fist against the wall. He was angry at himself for not having put it together sooner. And that wasn’t all.

“What the hell is happening here? How did they get in?”

Larry and Nathan turned to him, stunned and unable to answer.

“What good are fucking walls when anyone can just roll in here in some clunker from the seventies?” Arthur shouted.

“I don’t know what happened,” Dwayne said, shrugging his shoulders. “We’ve got men posted on each entrance into town.”

Arthur stepped forward again, glaring out the window. The two cars sped past stunned onlookers and desolate and pillaged shops along the street. Armed freemen stood on the sidewalks, gazing as the vehicles shuttled past them, too astonished, it seemed, to shoot. The sight of complete strangers riding downtown Main Street brought the entire town to a halt. Townspeople and freemen alike began running after the vehicles as they headed toward Town Hall.

“It’s them!” Arthur shouted. For the first time in a long time, he felt completely taken by surprise. “Son of a bitch!”

Teresa walked away from the window and followed Arthur as he strode back into the room in a panic.

“What is your problem?” she asked, stopping him. Her blue eyes pierced like daggers. “Get it together, you hear me?” She seethed, signaling to Larry and the rest of the men at the window with a jerk of her head. She gripped both Arthur’s arms and spoke softly. “What is it, two cars? Six to eight people? We have hundreds. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Arthur nodded and pulled Teresa close. Tires screeched outside.

“Holy shit!” Larry said from the window. “One of them just pulled right up to the steps of Town Hall.”

They heard a loud crash. The men at the window stood wide-eyed and in disbelief.

“Damn! That crazy dude in the Jeep just took out a bench!”

Arthur released Teresa and ran back to the window, pushing his way through. The Datsun was parked crookedly at the base of the concrete steps leading into Town Hall. Black skid marks defined its path from the road to the sidewalk. The Jeep was parked in a square of mulch and weeds, having just uprooted a nearby bench from the ground. Neither driver had exited his vehicle yet. Smoke seeped from under the hoods of both vehicles. A growing crowd was headed in their direction, huddled into one mass mob.

“Here comes trouble,” Larry said, pointing to the advancing crowd.

“Shit’s gettin’ real down there,” Jerome said.

The doors of both vehicles opened. A man and a woman exited the Datsun, and a man and another woman stepped out of the Cherokee. There were four people in all, and Arthur zeroed in on the Datsun driver—a dark-haired man with a thick stubble on his face, wearing a red flannel shirt and blue jeans. The mountain people were back, and they had brought their fearless leader.       

Arthur stepped away and looked at his men. “We better get down there before the town tears them apart. Make sure you’re locked and loaded.”

The men nodded and followed Arthur out of the room, hustling along the way. Teresa remained, studying the scene outside as the sound of their clattering footsteps faded.