Ryan Westfield

FINAL CHAOS

A POST-APOCALYPTIC EMP SURVIVAL THRILLER

1

JIM

Jim sat at the workstation in his dusty little computer repair shop in Rochester, NY.

It was a cloudy day in early spring. The air still had a bite to it, but after the intense lake-effect snow of the winter, it was a welcome change.

Rather than computers, Jim’s workstation was piled high with cell phones. Half of them had broken screens and the other half he’d already fixed.

When Jim had opened his shop four years ago, he’d made a decent living. But then the computers had gradually stopped coming in. Laptops these days weren’t made to be repaired. The internal components were often soldered together, making the only solution to simply buy another one. This had hit Jim’s business hard.

Now, he was barely hanging on to the shop by repairing cell phone screens.

And he hated doing it.

Growing frustrated with one of the phone screens, Jim groaned and shoved the whole mess away from him.

The bells on the front door jangled as the glass door swung open.

Jim looked up.

It was his friend Rob, barely holding onto a tray of coffees and a large paper bag of bagels.

“Ready for some coffee?” said his friend Rob.

“You got four? Are you crazy?”

“I need the boost this morning. I’ve got an interview at that mattress store over on Monroe.”

“Plushtown Mattresses?”

Rob nodded. “They’re looking for managers.” He settled down into a beat-up armchair as he handed Jim one of the coffees. He took the lid off another, and began gulping it down. At the same time, he began digging into the bag of bagels.

Jim took a small sip of his coffee. Black, just the way he liked it. “You’re really going to drink three large cups? Remember what happened last time?”

“Yeah, I talked my head off and sounded like a lunatic. But this time, I’ve got a plan.” Rob took another large gulp.

“And what’s that?”

“I’m not going to talk my head off,” said Rob, dead serious.

Jim raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He’d learned over the years not to try too hard to steer his friend on the right path. Rob had a long history of botching interviews, getting fired, getting laid off, and getting evicted from his apartment.

He was a good guy, but he just couldn’t always keep it together. He was big. At least six-four, and about two-eighty. He kept his weight up by devouring plain bagels at all hours of the day.

“You still working on those cell phones?” said Rob, his mouth full of bagel.

“Aren’t I always?”

“I don’t know why you never take my advice and start repairing other things. You know, high end watches and stuff like that. There’s good money…”

“No one around here has a high-end watch,” said Jim, cutting him off. “And besides, I’m good with my hands, but you have to train for years to be a watchmaker.”

“But…”

Rob had a tendency to go on and on, and Jim wasn’t in the mood for it this morning. He’d known Rob since they were both kids, and he couldn’t very well throw him out of his store.

“I’m going to get some air,” muttered Jim, standing up and moving through the store.

“How’s the wife, anyway?” called out Rob as he flicked on the TV.

Jim didn’t answer. He heard the sound of the news announcers, groaned again, and pushed open the back door that led to the back alley.

Jim let the metal door slam heavily behind him.

A couple shops shared the same back alley, where two overfilled dumpsters sat.

Jim glanced up at the sky, as if to check to see if it was still grey, and reached for his phone.

No messages. No texts.

He and his wife Aly were going through a rough patch. They’d had an argument about two weeks ago. It’d somehow started with the sponges in their apartment, and eventually it had grown to encompass everything.

The last thing Jim remembered her screaming at him was, “And you don’t even like computers! It’s time to let the shop go!” Then she’d gone to her mother’s house in Pittsford and he’d barely heard from her since.

It was true, he didn’t like computers. Or repairing phones. He was good with his hands and knew how to do the work.

He didn’t even look like he belonged in a computer shop. He kept himself in shape, and had rugged good looks. He got asked out a lot by the female customers, even though he wore a ring prominently. Of course, he turned them all down.

Who knew. Maybe it was time to sell the shop. Not that he’d get much money for it.

But it was his dream. His dream of working for himself. Being his own boss. Being in control of his own destiny. All that stuff.

Jim put his hands in his pockets and took a deep breath of the cool air.

The door behind him opened.

“The power’s out,” said Rob, still holding his bag of bagels.

Jim groaned and reached for the small LED flashlight he always carried. “I guess you don’t know how to flip a breaker switch?”

“It’s not that,” said Rob. He sounded strangely worried. “They were talking on the news about something to do with the sun…”

Jim ignored him as he pushed past him to get into the shop, now completely dark except for some dim light that came in through the front windows.

Jim found the breakers, but none of the switches were flipped.

That was weird. It couldn’t have been the light bulbs. Maybe a transformer had blown somewhere nearby.

He went out through the front door and walked out into the middle of the street.

All down the block, there were no lights on that he could see.

The world sounded silent.

Strangely, the sounds of nearby traffic had died down. And that background hum of distant appliances had fallen to nothing.

The owner of the antique store next door, a woman in her early fifties, was standing in her doorway with curlers still in her hair. She gave him a wave and shrugged her shoulders, as if to say she didn’t know what was going on either.

Out of the computer shop, Rob came running. He still held a coffee and his bag of bagels, one bagel clutched between his teeth.

The door hit him on the way out, knocking his paper coffee cup. Coffee spilled all over his shirt, and he tossed the cup aside.

“Looks like the whole block’s out,” said Jim. “And you’re going to need another shirt for your interview.”

“Jim, listen. I was trying to tell you. On the TV, they were saying that there’d been something… something from the sun… and that it might knock out all the electronics… I knew I’d be screwed for the interview. First the power’s out, and now I’ve ruined my shirt.”

“You mean a solar flare? Was that the term they used?” said Jim.

“Might have been. Listen, what do you think I should do about this job? Should I go?” Rob fished in his pocket for his cell phone. “Shit,” he muttered. “It’s out of battery.”

“It’s not out of battery,” said Jim. “It’s dead.”

“Dead?”

“Here, look at mine.”

Jim handed his own cell phone to Rob. It too, of course, was dead.

And it wouldn’t turn back on.

Jim knew know what this all meant.

A solar flare had caused an EMP, an electromagnetic pulse, that had knocked out all electronics.

The whole system would come crashing down. The power grid would be down. And the communication networks.

Whether the EMP had affected upstate New York, the whole country, or the whole world, was yet to be seen.

Why hadn’t they gotten advance warning? Well, it didn’t matter now. The damage was done.

“Your phone doesn’t work either,” Rob was saying.

Jim ignored him.

He knew what this EMP meant. It meant the breakdown of society.

How far it would fall was yet to be seen.

People would panic. Some would pretend it wasn’t happening. Others would take advantage, using the opportunity to do what they’d always wanted to do.

Jim didn’t think it would take long.

Now, there was only one thing on his mind. And that was getting to his wife.

He and Aly may have been separated, they may have had their troubles, but she was still his wife.

And he was going to make sure she was safe.

No matter what.

“Where you going, Jim? You think I could use a payphone?”

Ignoring Rob, Jim dashed back into his shop.

Leaning next to his workbench was a backpack that he took with him everywhere.

It had some normal everyday things, like a book or two, and a pair of headphones for when Rob was talking too much.

But it also contained what he’d called his emergency kit. For food, there were a half-dozen energy bars, the kind cyclists used, along with a large water bottle. There was also a high quality multi-tool, a fire starter kit, a cheap fixed-blade knife, a compass, and a couple maps of the surrounding area. It also had some spare rounds for his revolver, already loaded into a quick-loader decide.

It was a normal backpack. Black and unadorned. It didn’t look the least bit “tactical.” He wouldn’t look out of place wearing it. He knew that in a situation like this, the last message he wanted to send out to the public was, “I’m prepared and I have a lot of gear to steal.” He didn’t want a target on his back.

Jim shouldered the bag and patted his waistband where his .38 revolver sat in its holster.

“Jim, where the hell are you going?”

“Aly,” said Jim, walking swiftly down the street to where his car was parked. Hopefully it would still run.

He didn’t have time to explain the situation to Rob.

“Aly? She doesn’t want to have anything to do with you. Come on, Jim, you’ve got to help me with this interview.”

“That doesn’t matter anymore,” said Jim. “Don’t worry about the interview. Come with me and I’ll explain.”

Rob apparently knew Jim well enough to take what he said seriously. Jim wasn’t the type to mess around. He meant what he said. An expression of worry formed on his face as he jogged alongside Jim, trying to keep up with him.

2

ALY

Aly sat in a small holding cell of the Pittsford police station. Pittsford was one of the wealthier suburbs of Rochester. The police department was small and the building itself was small.

She’d never been arrested for anything in her life. She’d never gotten so much as a speeding ticket. Once, when she was younger, she’d been pulled over for running a stop sign, but she’d managed to talk her way out of it.

She’d always been the good girl. She’d always gotten top grades in school without so much as a single detention.

She was almost too filled with shame to think about what had happened last night.

Sure, she’d been known to lose her temper from time to time. Especially during arguments with Jim, her husband. But she’d never lost it like this. Not publicly. Not with a police officer present.

The metal bench in her cell was cold and uncomfortable. She’d only lasted an hour on it. The rest of the night, she’d spent with her back against the cold cinder block wall, hunched forward with her arms wrapped around her knees.

There was one other person locked up along with her. He was a man in his fifties, with a shaved head and tattoos on his face. He was the next cell over, with one empty cell separating them. He hadn’t stopped staring at her all night, so she’d taken to simply facing the other way.

It was morning now, not that there was any way to know other than her watch. The fluorescent lighting and air conditioning created a stale atmosphere. No natural light came in.

When they’d taken her fingerprints and booked her, they’d explained what would happen in the morning. But she’d been so angry that now, once she’d calmed down, it was nothing more than a hazy memory.

Despite her anger, she’d been too ashamed to call anyone with her one phone call, so she’d passed it up. She didn’t want anyone to know that she’d been locked up. It wasn’t like her, and she would have never heard the end of it.

Aly glanced at her watch. It was a little after 8 AM. Surely something would have to happen soon. Didn’t they need to give her breakfast?

But no one had told her anything.

She’d seen two cops walking by and she’d hadn’t had the nerve to ask them anything. The older man in the other cell had yelled out some obscenities at them and they’d simply ignored him.

As far as Aly could tell, the three cells were adjacent to a hallway that ran between the front end of the station, where the secretary sat, and the back.

Pittsford was a small, peaceful suburb. Aly doubted that these cells saw much action at all.

The Pittsford cops had shiny, new cruisers, whereas the Rochester city cops drove older models cars, sometimes with noticeable dents.

“Why won’t they let me be free?” screamed the man in the other cell. “Why won’t they let Samuel free? The world is where Samuel belongs!” He was screaming at the top of the lungs, and the sound made Aly’s heart jump.

Aly said nothing, and no one came running, of course, to see what was the matter. The man fell silent again.

Aly’s mind turned to the night before. She’d been driving back to her mother’s house, after visiting the Eastview mall. It wasn’t that she’d needed to buy anything. She’d just needed to get out of the house.

Maybe she’d run the light. Maybe she hadn’t.

The cop sure thought that she had.

And that was when the argument had started.

He’d asked if she’d been drinking, and of course she hadn’t been. And just to prove something, she’d refused to take a breathalyzer test.

Someone had come along, some “concerned citizen,” who just couldn’t seem to mind his own business. He’d given her some unsolicited advice, something about knowing her place as a woman.

And she’d just gone off on him, an intense verbal tirade that had never seemed to end.

That was the short version of how she’d ended up here.

She checked her watch again. Only a couple minutes had gone by.

Shouldn’t something be happening by now?

“They won’t let Johnson out of the cage!” screamed her cell neighbor.

He must have been off his rocker, thought Aly. One minute his name was Samuel and the next it was Johnson.

Or maybe he was talking about two people altogether separate from himself.

Who knew.

She knew she didn’t want to find out.

Suddenly, the lights went out.

And the station fell silent.

The air conditioner had stopped running. She could hear the fans running down.

The cell and the station were immersed in total darkness.

Aly couldn’t see her hand in front of her face.

Some other sounds were missing, but she couldn’t put her finger on what they were. They were the background sounds of machinery that no one typically noticed.

It seemed deadly silent.

“The time has come!” shouted the crazy guy. “Darkness will bring Damian to the light! And no other shall come forth from the light but Damian himself!”

Aly’s heart was pounding in her chest.

Her skin felt clammy all of a sudden.

Why was she feeling anxious?

Surely it was just a power outage. It was something that happened from time to time, even in police stations.

But wouldn’t they have had a backup generator? Why wasn’t it already running?

Well, it would take a few moments, probably. Backup generates didn’t come on instantly. At least as far as she knew.

“Nothing but progress!” screamed the man.

Aly tried to ignore it. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on her breathing. She’d taken a meditation course not long ago in an attempt to deal with her marital problems. She’d thought that focusing on being calmer would help with the arguments. Of course, it’d done nothing.

And it did nothing now.

Her heart still raced. Her skin still felt clammy.

She opened her eyes again after only a few moments.

The lights, of course, were still off.

There were sounds now. Shouts from the police officers. Maybe the secretary, too. Aly didn’t know.

A flashlight beam flicked on somewhere in the hallway. Aly watched as it moved along the hallway at a high speed. Someone was running.

Another flashlight. Someone else running.

“What’s going on?” cried out Aly, unable to stay silent any longer.

No one answered her.

“The cars aren’t working!” someone yelled out. A loud, deep, commanding voice. “We’ve got to go on foot!”

“The radios are down, too,” came another voice.

The cars and radios weren’t working? That sounded like more than just a power outage. Shouldn’t they have kept running?

The flurry of activity only lasted a few minutes.

When it was all over, the entire station was completely silent. All the police had left, letting the door slam behind them.

Aly was left alone in her dark, silent cell.

The only thing she could hear was the ragged breathing of her cell neighbor. And she knew it wouldn’t be long before he screamed again.

3

JESSICA

“You going to have that custom job ready for this afternoon, Jess?” said Bruce, her boss.

“It’s Jessica, not Jess, Jessie, or anything else you can come with,” said Jessica.

Bruce just laughed. “Just have it ready by this afternoon.”

“You gave me one day to do it.”

“He’s paying top dollar for this. So he gets what he wants.”

Jessica said nothing as she watched Bruce walk away.

Sure, Bruce was getting top dollar for the custom bike, but she wasn’t getting a penny more per hour.

That was the way it was, though, and she needed the job to pay her way through school.

She’d worked at the bike shop for a full two years now. When she’d graduated high school, she didn’t have the money to even attend community college. At eighteen, her parents had thrown her to the curb along with all her stuff and she’d had to support herself ever since.

She’d never begrudged them for it. She’d never really thought much about it, actually. She’d just done what she’d had to do and gotten a job.

Jessica made her way into the back of the bike shop where all the bikes were hanging from hooks in the ceiling. There were mountain bikes, road bikes, BMX bikes, and plenty of those in-between bikes that were so popular, the ones that weren’t really good for anything in particular.

Jessica found the titanium mountain bike hanging near the back, grabbed it, and took it down.

She’d gotten the new wheels on it yesterday, but the bike still needed some serious work. The bottom bracket would probably take the most time. While the frame was made of titanium, the components of the bottom bracket were steel, and there was no doubt in her mind that they’d rusted to hell over the years. It’d be a tough job.

“What’s up, Jessica?” said Tom, sauntering into the shop from the back door.

Jessica just gave him a brief nod as she lifted the bike up to the mechanic’s stand so she could work on it.

“You working on that vintage mountain bike?” said Tom, standing annoyingly close to Jessica, his messenger bag still slung over his shoulder.

Jessica didn’t answer him.

Tom was about Jessica’s age. But that was the end of what they had in common. Tom was a rich kid who went to the University of Rochester. He only worked at the bike shop for something to do, and so he could sound cool and interesting.

Jessica grabbed a bottom bracket wrench and started to work. The lock ring itself was rusted. She leaned down hard on the wrench, but it still wouldn’t budge.

“You didn’t do the bottom bracket yet?” said Tom, in his annoying voice. “That would have been the first thing I’d do.”

“When was the last time you did a bottom bracket overhaul on a bike this old?” said Jessica.

Tom said nothing.

“That’s what I thought,” she muttered.

Tom retreated into the bathroom, probably to check his Instagram account, which was full of the expensive bikes his parents had bought him over the years.

Jessica was still struggling with the wrench when the lights went off.

“What the hell?” yelled Tom, from behind the bathroom door.

She could hear him fumbling around in there.

Jessica wasted no time. She knew she had to get the work done on time, whether a breaker had blown or what.

She reached into her pocket for her cell phone. It was the cheapest unlocked smartphone that she’d found. It wasn’t like she had much disposable income at all, unlike Tom who could buy whatever he wanted.

She figured she could use the light on the phone to keep working. She’d hold the phone under her chin if she had to. She wasn’t going to risk losing her job, no matter how unfair the assignment was.

But her phone wouldn’t turn on.

Maybe the battery was dead.

“My phone’s not working!” yelled Tom from the bathroom.

That was weird. Both their phones weren’t working.

“You guys OK back there?” called out Bruce, from the front of the store. “I’m going to check the—shit!” It sounded like he’d crashed into a couple bikes on display. Jessica heard them fall over, making a loud crashing noise. Bruce swore and yelled in pain.

“You OK, Brucey?” yelled Tom.

“I’m fine. Just get the breaker, will you?”

“As soon as I can find my way out of this bathroom.”

Jessica was no wimp. She wasn’t scared of a little darkness. Or her phone turning off.

But the darkness did remind her of a difficult time. It hadn’t been that long ago. Almost two years to the day, when she’d been knocked off her bike in a dark alley at 11:00 PM. Two men had attacked her.

She didn’t like to remember the details. But suffice it to say, after that she decided that the best thing to do would be to make sure she’d never be a victim again.

And so she’d gotten into guns.

They weren’t considered cool for people like her, bike shop workers. Tom, for instance, would have freaked out if he’d known she’d had a gun. But then again, she’d never really cared much about what people had thought about her. And she was fine doing things her own way.

So she’d taken a gun safety training course, saved up her money, and purchased a Glock 42.

It was a relatively small gun, but still completely functional.

In its slim holster, she could slide it into the pocket of her jeans and no one would know it was there.

She’d gone the pocket-carry route because a holster wasn’t practical for her. The minute she got onto her bike, her shirt would invariably ride up a little, making it difficult to conceal a holster worn any other way than in her pocket.

Sure, she could have gone the ankle route, but she didn’t like the idea of having to reach down that far if she needed the Glock.

If her boss had known she was packing, she would have been fired on the spot. So she kept it on the down low.

Her boss was trying to get himself upright, but in the process he only knocked over more bikes.

“I found the door knob!” shouted Tom.

But she couldn’t even see him emerge from the bathroom. She did, however, hear the old wooden door squeaking on its hinges.

Jessica reached into her right pocket and wrapped her hand around the holster, without taking the Glock or the holster out. The feel of it sent a wave of reassurance through her.

“Can’t you guys help me up?” shouted Bruce.

“My phone doesn’t work!” shouted Tom.

“I knew I shouldn’t have tinted those front windows,” shouted Bruce.

“Hold on, Bruce, I’m coming for you,” shouted Tom.

Jessica decided to leave the two of them to sort it out. She started making her way slowly towards the back of the store.

She bumped into a couple bikes, but she could picture the layout of the back of the store well enough in her head to finally reach the back door.

It was heavy and made of steel. She pushed against the door.

Outside, it was silent. The normal sounds of an occasional passing car were strangely absent.

What the hell was going on?

She had a bad feeling about all this.

Why weren’t the cell phones working? This went beyond just a power outage.

In the back of her mind, something started to float to the surface. She’d been scrolling through the news on the internet before coming into work. There’d been a headline that her sleepy eyes had passed right over. Something to do with the sun. A solar flare? Knocking out electronics?

Could that be what was going on?

Jessica felt the panic starting to rise within her. She felt her mind going back to that night in the alley.

She wasn’t quite sure why, but she didn’t want to head back inside. Instead, she grabbed her bike from the bike rack out back.

She hadn’t brought anything to work with her, so there was nothing to get from inside the shop. She normally bought her lunch from a small deli across the street, and today she’d been planning to do the same.

Not wanting to deal with the obnoxious Tom, or her boss, who would probably want her to continue working on the mountain bike, she grabbed the handlebars of her bike and got onto the saddle.

She patted the Glock in her pocket once again.

She had her foot on the pedal when the door swung open.

It was Bruce, with his slicked back hair and his overly short shorts.

“Where the hell are you going?”

“Home.”

“What about the bike? He’s coming today. What’s the matter with you?”

She didn’t answer.

“If you take off now, that’s it, you’re done. You’ve been a good worker, but you’re too independent. I’ve kept my mouth shut for the most part about it. But this is really the last straw. You can’t just leave because the power goes out. Especially without telling me. Couldn’t you come up with an excuse or something?”

Jessica said nothing.

Something wasn’t right and she wanted to get out of there.

But she was torn. She needed the job. She needed the money.

“Get back in the shop now, Jess,” said Bruce.

His eyes were narrowed in anger.

Jessica said nothing. She didn’t even bother correcting him on her name.

She just pressed down on the pedal, got her balance, and rode down the alley. She didn’t look back.

The street was a strange sight. The streetlights were all out, and there were no lights on in any of the buildings.

She was in downtown Rochester, and while the city’s economic situation didn’t exactly make it a bustling center of commerce, there was still usually at least some traffic.

But no cars moved.

There were some here and there, stopped dead in their tracks on the road. People were standing next to their cars with their doors open, looking around as if in a daze.

Jessica turned her head around as she rode, thinking that the drivers were all looking at something.

But she could see nothing. Nothing unusual except the effects of the power outage and the stopped cars.

Jessica slowed down, applying the brakes, and rode up to a woman about her own age. The woman was standing next to a late model BMW. She was probably a rich kid in college.

“What’s going on?” said Jessica.

The woman snapped her head around to look at her. Her face was heavily made up and she a white t-shirt that had three Greek letters on it. Probably a member of a sorority.

“No one knows.”

“Why are you all stopped in the middle of the road?”

“I don’t know about everyone else, but my car won’t work.”

“It won’t work?”

“Yeah, didn’t you hear me? I was driving and suddenly the engine turned off. I thought I was going to crash into the car in front of me, since my car just kept moving.”

“It kept moving?”

“Yeah, didn’t you hear me?” The woman spoke in an obnoxious tone that was getting on Jessica’s nerves. She was the sort of person Jessica normally tried to avoid. “If it wasn’t for my good driving, I would have had a crash.”

Jessica just sort of nodded at her and got back on her bike, continuing down the road.

This was a lot to process.

So the cars had all suddenly stopped working? Right in the middle of driving?

Jessica had never heard anything like that happening. She had heard stories before of things going wrong in the electronics of newer cars. But those stories had been different. And they’d never involved all the cars on a single street having the same effect.

They were all made by different manufacturers.

It didn’t make sense.

Jessica didn’t know what to make of it. But it increased her resolve to get home back to her apartment.

She lived not far from here. Only about five blocks away.

Her apartment was a small one bedroom unit situated above a pizza shop. She liked it there. The pizza shop wasn’t popular, so it was quiet. And most importantly, it was her own space.

She’d feel safe there.

Jessica leaned in, and took the turn at Second Street.

It felt good to be on the bike. The air was blowing in her face and on her bare arms. It was cool, but she’d heat up soon enough, given the force she was putting into the pedals.

She rode a nice road bike from the late nineties. She’d found the frame in a dumpster and redone everything herself, working late at the shop. It was cheaper than a car, which she couldn’t have afforded.

Single speed bikes and fixed gear bikes were still all the rage, at least among people who worked at bike shops. But Jessica didn’t care about trends. She wanted a practical bike above all else. And especially more than a trendy bike.

On Second Street, the lights in the buildings were all off.

Again, cars were stopped in the middle of the street.

There was one accident up ahead. It looked like an SUV had gone adrift and crashed, jumped the curb, and smashed into a telephone pole. No one seemed to be hurt. The driver was standing nearby, staring at a cell phone.

In some ways, it was a bicyclist’s dream come true.

On her short commute, Jessica was often harassed horribly by the Rochester drivers, who weren’t used to bicycle commuters. Really, she couldn’t blame them. But she also gave it back to them as good as they gave.

Now, there were no cars moving. Jessica’s heart was still beating with anxiety, but she took delight in swerving between the stopped cars and the confused drivers.

She pedaled harder and harder. She shifted gears, getting onto the big ring.

She was going fast now.

She was almost home.

The road was silent. Strangely silent. She only heard the sound of the rushing wind and her own pounding heart.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, she heard a new noise.

It sounded like an engine. A loud one. Like a car speeding along.

But all the cars weren’t working.

Jessica didn’t see it until it was too late.

She didn’t even register what type of vehicle it was. Just that it was speeding right at her. Head on.

She yanked on the handlebars and leaned in, desperately trying to get out of the way.

But it was too late.

The vehicle hit her and she went flying backwards. She flew through the air and time seemed to slow down.

Then she smashed into the pavement. Her shoulder hit first. It happened too fast to notice the pain.

Her head, in its helmet, slammed into the pavement.

4

JIM

Jim had held his breath as he’d turned the key in his old Subaru wagon. He knew enough about the effects of an EMP to know that it would have a devastating effect on most cars.

Of course, no one really knew what the real effects would be. Some thought that only older cars would work, and that the newer electronics of more modern vehicles would make the more susceptible to an EMP.

But Jim remembered reading something a few months back that said that actually wasn’t the case. The authors of the study theorized that because of the design of certain cars, the chassis and frame themselves could act as Faraday cages, insulting certain cars from the effects of an EMP.

“What are you doing?” Rob had said, in the passenger seat. “Just crank it already.”

Jim had finally pressed in the clutch and turned the key.

The Subaru had started.

He’d breathed a sigh of relief.

The Subaru wasn’t the shiniest or newest car on the block. Far from it, actually. It had its share of dents.

It wasn’t particularly trendy, either. Or fast.

But it worked. And it worked in the intense snow that Rochester got every winter. Jim often saw newer SUVs sliding around uselessly in the thick snow. Some of them actually only had front wheel drive, and if you drove behind them, you could spot the absence of a rear differential.

Jim put the Subaru in first, hit the gas, and released the clutch.

Soon, they were driving down Park Avenue, heading towards Pittsford, where Aly’s mother’s house was.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?” said Rob. He sounded upset.

Jim didn’t answer. He was deep in thought, thinking about getting to Aly.

And what they would do next.

Jim had a good sense of what was going to happen. Of course, he didn’t know the specifics. No one did.

Everyone had their theories.

But they were just that—theories.

The only way to really know was to live it.

And unfortunately, that was the situation they were all in now.

The EMP would have fried the power grid. And it wasn’t going to come back on. Not without some serious technical repairs.

The repairs alone would be a massive undertaking.

The question really was whether or not society would start to crumble and fall apart before all the systems could be prepared.

Jim had seen people panicking in the supermarket when a blizzard was coming in. And that was in Rochester, where blizzards were about as common as any other type of weather.

So he wasn’t holding out a lot of hope that people would stay calm and hold it together.

No, definitely not. After a while, when the power hadn’t come back on for a few days, they’d panic.

And all hell would break loose.

And the panic wouldn’t even be the worst of it.

Images of violence and horror flashed through his mind. He pushed the thoughts away. He needed to stay focused on what was practical.

And what was practical was to get the hell out of there. With his wife, and her mother, if possible. And Rob, too, he supposed.

Jim’s own parents had moved to Florida a few years back. They’d had enough of the winters.

“You’re driving pretty fast,” said Rob, who didn’t drive himself. He was one of those people who didn’t have the right personality for driving. And, plus, he had that long string of DUIs.

Jim said nothing.

“Why are all those cars stopped?”

There were cars up and down Park Avenue. And none of them were moving.

Jim maneuvered around them, downshifting when he had to, but he kept his speed up.

“Jim, slow down!”

“We’ve got to get there,” said Jim. “Everything’s going to fall apart.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Don’t you see the cop?”

“The cop?”

Jim glanced off to his right, where there was a cop standing on the side of the road. He was waving his hands in a motion that clearly only had one meaning: stop.

The cop wasn’t dressed like a traffic cop. And there was no patrol car near him.

Jim made the decision quickly.

He wasn’t going to stop.

He respected the police. But there was no time now for getting pulled over.

“What are you doing?” said Rob.

“What I need to,” said Jim.

He pressed down on the accelerator and the Subaru’s engine whined.

Up ahead, there was an enormous SUV sitting dead right in the middle of the lane.

Jim maneuvered around it.

Meanwhile, Rob was tugging frantically on his arm, babbling in a high-pitched voice. He was trying to get Jim to pull over. “I can’t get another arrest,” he was saying. “I’ve got too many under my belt.”

Jim shook Rob off his arm and he turned towards him.

If he had to punch his friend, he would.

“Look out!”

Jim had only had his eyes off the road for a few seconds. But when he turned back to look, a bicycle had appeared right into front of the Subaru.

Jim slammed on the brakes.

But it was too late.

He hit the bike and the rider went flying.

“Shit!” Rob screamed. “You killed him!”

Jim said nothing.

For a moment, he just stared out the window at the fallen bicyclist. Long hair streamed out from under the helmet. It was clearly a woman.

And she wasn’t moving.

Not at all.

Jim glanced in his rearview mirror.

The policeman, who he’d passed only moments ago, was running full speed down the road towards them.

Shit.

It was all going wrong.

Maybe he hadn’t had the best plan for a disaster event like this. Maybe he didn’t have a clear idea of where to go.

But at least he’d known he had to get out of the city fast. And he had some gear.

He was far ahead of most of the people here. If things got bad enough, they’d run out of food. Most of them would die.

It wasn’t supposed to be like that for him.

Sure, he could simply drive away. It didn’t seem like the cop had a working vehicle, and it wasn’t like he’d be able to catch Jim.

But Jim wasn’t that kind of guy.

He’d hit her. There weren’t any excuses. He had to deal with it now. It was his responsibility.

Sure, he’d convinced himself that if this moment ever came, he’d do whatever he could for himself and his wife.

Now that the moment had come, though, he realized that there was no way he could leave this woman lying on the ground, not moving.

If she was still alive, she needed medical attention.

There’d be doctors at the hospital, even if the power was off. They could do something.

Couldn’t the cop help her, though? It was a last ditch thought as he tried to justify the behavior that he already knew wasn’t acceptable.

No, the cop wouldn’t help. How would he get her to the hospital without a vehicle?

Likely the ambulances weren’t working either. Only a few cars here and there, and who knew which ones.

Jim cut the engine, pocketed the keys, and opened the door.

“What are you doing, the cop’s coming! I can’t get another one, man!” said Rob, frantically. His face was frozen in panic and he looked like a deer frozen in the headlights seated in the passenger seat.

Jim ran to the woman.

“Hey!” he said, leaning down into her face. “Can you hear me?”

She was unresponsive.

Jim put his middle and index fingers against her neck, trying to find a pulse.

For a tense moment, he felt nothing.

Then he found it.

Her pulse was there. She was still alive.

“Hey!” shouted someone. A deep, male voice.

Jim turned his head.

It was the cop. He was still running, but he’d slowed down. He was panting with exertion.

“Come on,” muttered Jim, taking the young woman by the shoulders and shaking her gently, hoping that she’d wake up.

“Step away from her,” shouted the cop, finally catching up to him.

Jim froze.

“Step away.”

Jim didn’t move.

He didn’t know how the cop was going to react. It was likely that he didn’t understand the gravity of the situation, that he would try to arrest Jim for speeding, for ignoring a traffic stop, and for hitting a pedestrian.

Jim couldn’t be in jail while society crumbled. Especially not while Aly was out there. She didn’t know anything about EMPs. She wouldn’t have the slightest idea what to do. She’d stay locked inside her mother’s house and they’d both slowly starve to death.

“I’m just trying to help her.”

“Hands on your head.”

Jim raised his hands slowly above his head. He thought about the Ruger revolver in its holster. He didn’t know what to do.

Suddenly, there was shouting not far away from them.

About twenty feet away, there were two cars stopped in the road. One was behind the other.

Two men, presumably the drivers, had gotten out and were standing face to face, only inches apart from one another. One was skinny and short, and the other was massive and hulking. He looked like he might be a bodybuilder.

“Get away from my car!”

“You’re blocking me! Why won’t you just move out of the way?”

“Listen, buddy, you’ve got two seconds to get out of my face.”

“Oh yeah, or what?”

The skinny guy took a step back, turned around. He opened up the trunk of his sedan and took out a metal baseball bat.

This is how it starts, thought Jim to himself. He glanced at the cop, who didn’t seem to know what to do.

“Don’t move a muscle,” said the cop, who rushed off in the direction of the men.

The big bodybuilder guy didn’t stand a chance. He barely managed to react before the metal baseball bat swung in a wide arc and smashed into his face.

Blood ran freely from his nose, and his right eye remained closed. He howled in pain. But he didn’t go down.

Not yet.

He swung his fist in an arc towards the skinny guy.

But the skinny guy was too fast. He stepped easily out of the way. Meanwhile, he pulled his baseball bat back, gearing up for another swing. “I told you to get out my face,” he shouted.

“Rob,” hissed Jim. “Get over here. I need your help.”

No answer.

“Rob!” he hissed again.

Rob was probably petrified about the cop’s presence.

But he’d need to get over that.

Jim was on his hands and knees, trying to lift the young woman by himself. Her bike lay nearby.

Jim wasn’t looking, but he heard the metal baseball bat make contact again. He heard the sickening sound of bones breaking. He heard the sound of the cop’s orders to drop the weapon. He heard the curses. Then he heard the static zapping sound of the cop’s taser, and the skinny man’s scream of pain as he fell to the ground.

Hopefully this would all distract the cop long enough so that he could get away.

“Rob!” he hissed again, just as he lifted the limp woman’s body up.

She was heavy, but he was strong enough.

As he was walking her towards the Subaru, Rob finally appeared.

“Get the bike,” said Jim.

Rob looked scared. He glanced nervously in the cop’s direction.

The cop had the skinny guy on the ground, his face pressed into the pavement. The cop had the guy’s arms behind him, and was trying to get handcuffs on him. But the skinny guy was struggling wildly, like a fish flopping around on a dock.

“Get the bike,” said Jim again.

Whatever happened to the woman, a bike could be useful later on.

Jim’s Subaru was old enough that it didn’t have an electronic keychain fob, not that it would have worked, anyway.

At the back of his wagon, he managed to free one of his hands enough to open the latch and swing the fifth door up and open.

He lay the woman down carefully. She still wasn’t moving, but he could see her breathing now, her chest rising and falling. There were scrapes all along her arms, and her jeans were torn along the side. Blood leaked out of her leg, slowly staining her jeans.

Rob was rushing along with the bicycle, nearly tripping over himself.

“Put it in the backseat,” said Jim, opening the door for Rob.

With the bike in the car and the woman in the back, Jim and Rob got back in the Subaru.

Jim fished the keys out of his pocket, stuck them in the ignition, depressed the clutch, and hoped that the car would once again start.

He knew that logically there was no reason why it shouldn’t, but seeing all the other non-functioning cars gave him pause.

He turned the key. The engine roared to life.

“Hey!” shouted the cop, turning around.

He’d finally gotten the handcuffs on the skinny man.

Now there was a crowd of bystanders that had gathered around the cop and the fight.

Jim threw the stick into reverse, hit the accelerator hard, and the wagon’s engine started whining as he drove rapidly backwards down Park Avenue.

There wasn’t anything the cop could do. Not that Jim relished the situation. He’d always respected the police and what they did.

But they weren’t going to help him now.

Not without communication.

He was on his own.

They all were.

“What the hell’s going on?” said Rob.

Jim ignored him. Rob would have to catch up as they went.

The next question was, where were the headed next?

To Aly’s mother’s house, or to the hospital?

Jim needed to choose between the safety of his own wife, and the life of a stranger, whose injuries he was directly responsible for.

5

JUDY

Judy was peering out the windows of her living room, looking into the normally calm street.

Something was going on. There were three or four cars that had simply stopped in the middle of the road. A couple people that Judy didn’t recognize were milling around aimlessly.

One woman had the hood of her car open and was peering into it, a wrench in one hand.

None of them were neighbors, and that worried Judy further.

She stepped back from the window and let the curtains fall once again over the windows.

The living room was dark.

It had been an hour or so since the power went out.

Strangely, nothing worked at all. Her cell phone included.

Judy was, by nature, an anxious woman. She always had been.

And the situation at hand wasn’t helping her anxiety at all.

It would have been OK, maybe, if Aly had been there. But her daughter hadn’t been home since last night.

Judy was sure that Aly must have just been staying with her husband, and had forgotten to call.

But, even so, a phone call would have been nice. And Judy didn’t like not knowing for certain that her daughter was OK.

Judy stood there in the darkened living room, on the plush carpet, for a few moments, lost in thought. She wished that things had been better for her daughter. That husband of hers wasn’t good for her. And unfortunately Judy was the only one who could see it clearly. She understood the type of man that Jim was.

He was the type of man who always appeared to be doing the right thing. But it always seemed to happen that he did so at great consequence to Aly. For instance, he’d hung onto that stupid little computer shop for far too long. He needed to get it together and get a real job, really support Aly.

And he was always off on some errand, helping out that deadbeat friend of his, whatever his name was. Bailing him out of jail, picking him up from work, even buying clothes for job interviews that he’d certainly never go to.

Jim helped that friend of his so much that Aly was often left at home. Sure, she could take care of herself, but she needed to spend time with her husband. It wouldn’t have been so bad if Jim hadn’t sunk so much of his time and energy into that computer shop.

There was a loud knock on the door.

“Judy!” called out a familiar voice.

Judy sighed and went to open the front door. She did so quickly, worried that whatever was happening out there in the street might somehow bleed over into her own home. “Quick,” she said, in a hushed voice.

A tall, thin young man scuttled around her and crossed across the threshold into Judy’s house.

It was Tim, a twenty-something who lived in the basement of his aunt’s house next door. He was a good kid, but he didn’t exactly have a stable job. His aunt tolerated his presence due to some long forgotten familial arrangement.

“Do you know what’s going on out there, Tim?” said Judy, shutting the door quickly.

Tim shook his head. “People are starting to get mad, though.”

“Who?”

“The people in the street. Their cars just stopped there.” Tim swept his long hair back from his face, tucking it behind his ear. “Is Aly here?”

Judy shook her head.

She knew well why Tim asking. It wasn’t hard to tell by the way that he looked at her daughter that he had a crush on her. Of course, he’d have been even worse than Jim for her daughter.

“She’s with Jim.”

“Her husband?”

“That’s right.”

“That’s weird,” said Tim. “I saw her last night.”

“You saw her last night?”

“Yeah, and they were putting her in the back of a squad car.”

“What?”

“It looked like they were arresting her.”

“You must have the wrong person. Have you been smoking that stuff again?”

Judy took a whiff of the air, as if to test to see if she could smell anything on him that would cause him to entertain such a wild idea. Her daughter, after all, would never get arrested.

“I’m positive. I just wanted to come by and make sure she got out OK.”

“Well, she would have called if there was anything the matter,” said Judy.

Tim nodded. “Anyway,” he said. “While I’m here, do you think I could borrow some tools from the basement?”

“Well…”

Except for this brief period with her daughter staying with her, Judy had lived alone ever since her husband had died ten years ago. She’d decided to keep the house, even though it was too big for just her.

All of her husband’s things were still there. She’d never been able to part with them, no matter how often her daughter offered to help.

Now she was well aware that Tim often took advantage of her generosity. He’d taken many of her husband’s tools already, and he’d only returned some of them. What he did with them, she didn’t know.

But she found it difficult to say “no” to him. After all, if she upset him, he’d probably stop coming around. And sometimes Tim was the only person she spoke to few days on end.

Life for the elderly in Pittsford could be lonely at times.

Tim was looking at her expectantly.

“Well, OK,” said Judy. “But don’t take too many things this time, OK? And make sure to bring them back.”

“Sure thing, Judy,” said Tim, already headed towards the basement.

There’d been times where other things in the house had gone missing. Some money from her purse had disappeared after one of Tim’s visits, along with some medication. But she’d never had the courage to bring it up.

Judy moved back to the window, shifted the curtains carefully, and peered back out.

It was the same scene as before.

“If only the sun would come out,” she muttered to herself.

The grayness of the sky seemed to hang over Pittsford like a thick blanket. And Judy had always believed that the weather affected people’s moods more than they were aware. On a grey day like today, people were more on edge.

Judy didn’t know what to think of Tim’s claim that he’d seen her daughter getting arrested.

But she didn’t have much time to think, because something was happening in the street.

There was a station wagon that had just appeared. The driver was honking the horn.

Someone was standing in the station wagon’s path, waving at it.

Suddenly, Judy made sense of the situation.

It was Jim, Aly’s husband. Yes, that was definitely his car.

Whoever was standing in Jim’s path was shouting at him.

The door to the station wagon opened, and Jim stepped out, looking tall.

In his hand, there was a pistol.

And he pointed it right at the men in the path of his car.

Judy could barely believe her eyes.

She took a sharp intake of breath and her heart started to pound.

Towards the back of the house, Judy heard Tim’s steps on the creaky basement stairs. And she heard him knocking something against the walls.

6

JIM

It had been a difficult decision, but Jim had decided to go right to his wife, rather than stopping at the hospital first. He’d even pulled over to check on the woman in the back. Her condition hadn’t worsened.

The way over to Pittsford had been the same as driving down Park Avenue. Plenty of cars stopped on the road.

They’d only seen a couple other cars that still seemed to work. One was a Subaru, for sure, and one was some ancient car that Jim hadn’t recognized.

On the drive, Jim had tried to explain the situation to Rob as best he could. Rob trusted Jim implicitly. They’d been friends forever, and Rob had always looked up to Jim the way a younger brother might an older brother. In their adult lives, Jim had gotten him out of more jams than he could count.

But Rob still resisted the idea, even if he was slowly coming around to it. He offered up a dozen or so half thought out counterarguments, which Jim shot down one by one.

Jim could see the Aly’s mother’s house from where the Subaru was.

Someone was blocking his path. An overweight man in his forties. He was making strange motions with his arms that made no sense.

And no matter what, he wouldn’t get out of the way.

“Jim, we can just walk from here!” hissed Rob, from the passenger seat.

“Not if we’re going to have to load up the car,” said Jim.

“Load up the car? With what?”

“Supplies,” said Jim.

Jim was under no illusions that the his emergency bag would be enough to last them.

And he also didn’t know if they’d be able to make it back to his and Aly’s own apartment, which was about a thirty minute drive.

If not, they needed to take what they could from Aly’s mother’s house. And fast. He couldn’t waste time carting things out to the street. They were, after all, still a few houses away.

“And we can’t leave her in the car, either,” said Jim. “Everyone’s getting frantic. Who knows what they’ll do. How they’ll react.”

Suddenly, the man in front of the Subaru started slamming his fists onto the hood of the car.

“What the hell is he doing?” said Rob.

“Whatever it is, he’s not going to be doing it for long,” said Jim.

Jim threw the door open, drew his revolver, and stepped outside.

He was taller than the man by at least a head.

“I’m not messing around,” he said, pointing the revolver. “Step out of the way and leave us alone.”

Jim carried the revolver for emergencies only. He would have never thought to use it in all but the most extreme situations.

As far as he was concerned, this was an extreme situation.

As extreme as they got.

People were already panicking. They’d seen it on Park Ave, and they were seeing it now here.

Panicking would lead to chaos.

Once the lack of water and food set in, the chaos would erupt. Like pouring gas on the fire.

And it would only get worse.

The overweight man froze in place. Nothing moved except his face. His eyebrows rose and a look of intense surprise overtook his features.

“I don’t want any trouble,” he muttered, his voice soft and quiet.

“Good,” said Jim. “Now step aside. We need to get through.”

The man nodded meekly.

Jim didn’t put the revolver away until he was back in the wagon.

“I didn’t know you had a gun,” said Rob.

Jim just nodded.

It was a Ruger LCRx .38. Double action, but with an external hammer, unlike the regular LCR, so single action was an option. Double action meant that a trigger pull was all that was needed for the gun to fire. Single action meant that he could cock the hammer if he wanted to, making the trigger pull easier.

If Jim was being honest with himself, he liked the idea of cocking the hammer mostly because that was what often happened in movies. Sure, there were some practical applications, too.

But he rationalized it to himself with the idea that cocking the trigger would serve as an additional warning to whoever he was pointing the gun at.

It was a compact gun. But it had a three inch barrel and a proper handle that allowed for a good grip.

It was light, made of aluminum.

In short, it was small and light, but packed enough of a punch to be a serious weapon.

The big man backed off, and Jim drove the short distance to his mother in law’s house, parking way up the driveway, only a short walk to the front door.

“Stay in the car, Rob,” said Jim. “And make sure no one comes for it. Pretty soon, a working car is going to be a target itself.”

Jim’s mind was racing. He was trying to figure out what they’d need to take.

He felt a little better being here. Soon, Aly would be at his side again.

But where would they head?

And what about Aly’s mother? She could be stubborn, and she wasn’t the sort of person who’d want to leave her home.

Instinctively, Jim rang the doorbell before realizing his error.

He rose his hand to knock, but before his knuckles even touched the door, it opened swiftly.

But it was only open a crack. Just enough space for a face.

Aly’s mother’s face appeared.

She was in her late sixties. She’d had Aly a little later in life than normal.

She peered at him suspiciously, and didn’t open the door any further.

“Is Aly with you?” she said. “What were you doing with that gun? And that poor man in the street?”

“Aly?” said Jim, momentarily confused. “I thought she was with you.”

“She didn’t come home last night.”

Jim’s mind went racing. But he needed to keep it together. There was no point in panicking.

The only thing to do was to find the most practical, logical thing to do. And then do it.

Not much point in worrying.

“What do you mean she didn’t come home?” he said, realizing it was a stupid question the moment after he asked it.

Judy just stared at him suspiciously. She’d never liked him much.

“I need to come in,” said Jim.

“Not with that gun of yours. I don’t know what you’re up to. I have half a mind to call the police.”

“Good luck with the phones,” said Jim. “Come on. Let me in, Judy.”

She made a face and finally opened the door all the way. “Hurry up now. I don’t like having all those people in the road. They make me nervous.”

She opened the door and Jim slipped past her into the darkened house.

The fact that the people in road made her nervous normally wouldn’t have meant anything. Her street in Pittsford was normally calm and tranquil. It was an affluent area, where nothing much really happened, good, bad, or otherwise. Nevertheless, Judy would get nervous if someone was mowing their lawn too late at night.

But, today, Jim was nervous about the people in the road too.

Judy shut the door, leaving the room even darker than before.

“So where’s Aly?” said Jim.

“She’s not here. I thought she’d spent the night with you.”

“Is this some stunt?” said Jim. “I get it if she doesn’t want to see me and she told you to tell me that, but this is really serious. I need to see her.”

“It’s the truth,” said Judy. “Do you know what’s going on, Jim? The power’s been out for hours now, and…”

Jim ignored the question. There wasn’t time to explain everything to her. And she wouldn’t have believed it if he had.

Jim glanced down at his watch. It was the first time he’d looked at it since the EMP, and he was pleased to see that the second hand was still ticking along.

It was a Seiko diver with an automatic movement. Jim had had it for years, never gotten it serviced, and it still worked fine. He liked automatics because they never needed batteries. They were the complete opposite of the computers and phones he worked with all day. They were actual little machines, made of little gears, and, if necessary, they could be repaired.

The timekeeping wasn’t as precise as a more expensive automatic, but the way Jim figured it, he was his own boss, anyway. He didn’t need to be anywhere precisely on time.

He just reset it once a week, and he was never more than a minute or two off by next Sunday.

Jim knew that any watch with a quartz movement would have been rendered useless by the EMP. Quartz movements usually needed battery or capacitor to power the vibrating quartz crystal. There was some variations without batteries, but they were typically expensive, and who knew how they’d react to an EMP.

It was a little past 11:00 am.

It’d only been one hour since the EMP.

There was a sound in the kitchen. Something dropping.

Jim’s hand automatically went to his holster, but he didn’t draw his revolver.

“Oh that’s just Tim,” said Judy. “He needed to borrow some more tools for some project he’s working on… whatever it is that he does over there at his aunt’s house.”

Jim had met Tim before, and he was pretty sure that he was operating a small pot growing operation out of his clueless aunt’s basement.

Jim nodded at Tim as he came into the room. He was walking slowly, weighed down with a bundle of things he was carrying in his arms.

Jim did a double take when he saw some of what Tim was carrying. He and Aly already knew that Tim would come over from time to time to “borrow” various things. They’d talked with Judy countless times about it, but she’d just insisted he was an innocent boy, even though as far as Jim could see, he was a full grown man who was stealing from her.

Aly was first and foremost on his mind. But he still half-believed she was upstairs in one of the rooms and just didn’t want to see him.

“What you got there, Tim?” said Jim.

“Oh, it’s just some tools,” said Judy. “Don’t bother him, Jim.”

“Just some tools,” muttered Tim, vaguely. But he stopped in his tracks. He glanced back towards the kitchen, as if he was considering going out the back door to avoid Jim.

“Stay right there,” said Jim, stepping forward.

Tim had gathered up all sorts of things that one would expect to be useful in a disaster situation. In one hand, he held an ancient duffel bag that was unzipped. It was stuffed with what looked like cans of food, and bottles of water.

Jim grabbed one of the cans out of the duffle bag.

Tim stood there frozen, looking nervous. His eyes darted back and forth.

“So these are the so-called tools you needed?” said Jim.

“He’s a good kid,” said Judy. “He just gets overly enthusiastic sometimes.”

“You need to stop making excuses for him,” said Jim. “Don’t you realize that he’s stealing from you?”

“I’m not stealing anything,” said Tim.

“Like hell you aren’t,” said Jim.

Suddenly, Tim made a move. His eyes suddenly remained in one place, focused right on Jim.

Tim’s body weight shifted and he rammed Jim with his right shoulder.

Jim tried to step to the side, but it was too late. The blow hit him on his chest, and knocked the wind out of him.

Tim had brought the duffle bag back with one hand, and he was swinging it now, right towards Jim.

Jim stepped to the side, and the duffle bag collided with the wall. It created a hole in the drywall, and the duffle bag fell to the floor. Some cans fell out and clattered to the floor.

“You boys need to settle down!” said Judy.

Tim dropped everything he had.

He was staring at Jim with intensity and hatred in his eyes. His right hand moved to his jeans pocket. When he took it out, there was a knife clutched in his hand.

Tim flicked the knife open clumsily. It took him a moment.

But he got it open.

Now Jim was staring at a four inch steel blade and threatening eyes.

Jim reached for his revolver. His shirt was in the way. His hand fumbled for the holster.

Tim rushed him.

Judy screamed.

Jim’s hand was caught up in his shirt.

Tim was getting closer.

There was hardly any space between them.

Jim’s hand finally found the revolver handle. He drew it quickly.

His finger was on the trigger.

There wasn’t time to get Tim in his sights.

There wasn’t even time to get off a shot without getting stabbed first.

Jim did the only thing he could think of.

He fell backwards.

It was a sort of controlled tumble.

Or it was supposed to be. He fell hard on his back, his legs going up into the air.

The fall made it so that Tim had to adjust his attack. The swing of his arm would no longer drive the knife into Jim.

The fall bought Jim more time.

He felt the pain in his back. But it wasn’t anything compared to getting stabbed. He could live with some back pain.

Jim pulled the trigger as quickly as he could.

He kept the revolver steady as best he could, just as he’d been trained in his classes.

The knife was less than a foot from his torso when the bullet struck Tim.

Right in the chest.

Judy screamed.

7

ROB

Rob was partially in shock. He didn’t know what to think.

At first, he’d thought that Jim had just lost his mind.

But he looked up to Jim. And Jim knew that. Mostly, he’d gone along with Jim just out of respect.

But also to make sure Jim didn’t do anything stupid.

After all, even the sanest people could snap. They could just suddenly lose it.

And Jim’s been going through a lot. Aly was so important to him, and when she’d said that she’d wanted some space, it had hit Jim really hard.

He’d been in the worst shape that Rob had ever seen him in. In fact, Rob had made sure to come by the computer shop every day, just to check in on Jim. To give him someone to talk to.

And he’d stopped by sometimes in the evenings too, sometimes bringing some Chinese takeout, or a couple sandwiches. After all, Jim hadn’t been eating that well. As far as Rob could tell, he’d been living off of beef jerky from the gas station, gallons of whole milk, and whatever Rob brought him.

Rob sat in the passenger seat of the beat up old Subaru wagon. He glanced nervously into the rear window.

There were more people in the street than there had been. Fortunately, he hadn’t seen that man that Jim had threatened with his revolver.

But people, here and there, seemed to have come out of their houses. Now they were mingling with the drivers of the stopped cars.

At this point, Rob knew that Jim wasn’t crazy.

Something was going on. Something strange. Something serious.

Rob tried remembering exactly what they’d said on the news. It was just a fuzzy memory, since so much had already happened between then and now.

Shouldn’t they have given the public more information?

Rob’s thoughts turned for a moment to his job interview. He supposed that it was all right he didn’t show up. Although showing up even in extreme circumstances could show initiative. And that was something that employers often looked for. Or so he was told.

As Jim would attest, Rob certainly wasn’t an expert at employment.

From inside the house came a muffled sound.

It sounded like a gunshot.

Rob’s heart started to accelerate.

Had Jim shot someone?

His eyes darted around. His body froze up. He didn’t know what to do.

Behind him, in the rearview mirror, he could see people in the street stopping, their heads turning towards the house.

Shit. That wasn’t good.

Before he knew it, there were people around the car, apparently trying to get a better look at the house.

“That’s where Judy lives.”

“Judy?”

“Yeah, and her daughter’s been staying with her. Some problems with the husband.”

“Was that him, the guy who pulled the gun out?”

“Might be.”

“So this is his car here?”

Something had to be done. At the very least, he was going inside, to see what had happened.

Rob opened the door.

“Don’t worry everyone,” he said, using the same voice he’d used as an employee at the movie theatre, when the movie had stopped all of a sudden. “There’s nothing to be concerned about.”

“I heard a gunshot.”

“And who are you, anyway?” said one woman, who wore a very prominent pearl necklace. “What are you doing here?”

“Look, he’s got someone in the car!”

“It’s a woman.”

“And she’s not moving.”

“What did you do to her?”

“I didn’t do anything,” said Rob. “Listen, I can explain. I know it seems strange, but…” He was talking in that calm voice of his. Or at least doing his best too. The situation was already starting to get to him.

He remembered back when he’d worked at that movie theatre. He’d done his best with the crowd. He’d tried to stay calm.

But in the end, he’d lost his cool. He’d told them all to shut up, and that they’d get their money back, and that it wasn’t his fault at all. He’d kicked a door so hard that he’d bruised his toe.

And that’d been the last day he’d worked at the movie theatre. The last hour, actually. They’d fired him on the spot, probably to make a show for the customers.

Rob tried taking a step forward, but people were all around the Subaru now.

He just wanted to get inside the house.

Jim might need his help.

But there were a dozen people surrounding him now. And in the crowd, he recognized the man that Jim had threatened with his gun.

A big, burly man was blocking Rob’s path, standing right in front of him.

Someone else was trying to open the back door, but it was locked.

“He’s kidnapped her, probably.”

“What a monster.”

“Someone call the police.”

“The phones don’t work, remember?”

“Listen,” said Rob. “It’s not what you think. She was biking in the middle of the road, and Jim didn’t see her in time… There was a cop, but Jim realized that the only way to get her to the hospital was to take her ourselves.”

“Then why aren’t you at the hospital?”

“It’s a long story,” said Rob. “If you’ll just let me explain.”

“He’s lying!”

“We’ve got to get this woman out of there!”

The crowd was growing rowdier. It sent a chill down Rob’s back.

This was more intense than at the movie theatre.

Anger was starting to appear in their eyes.

These were, or had been, normal people.

All it took was one stressor, one minor crisis, and people started to lose their cool.

Rob knew he was going to have to do something. He reached behind him, hit the automatic door lock, and slammed closed the passenger side door.

Jim had the keys. This way the crowd wouldn’t be able to do anything to the car.

Rob was a big guy.

He made his move, pushing his way through, moving suddenly and swiftly.

For a tense moment, it seemed like they weren’t going to let him through. A hand grasped his arm.

But he made it, and he didn’t waste any time. He ran across the flat yard, straight to the door.

He swung the storm door open wildly and reached for the door handle.

He turned it, but it was locked.

With a closed fist, he pounded on the door.

“Jim!” he called out. “Open up! We’ve got trouble.”

He didn’t dare turn around. Somehow, it was easier not knowing whether the crowd was coming after him. Or whether they were doing something to the car.

“Jim!” he called out, pounding on the door as loud as he could.

8

JIM

“What have you done?” cried Judy in a high-pitched voice.

Tim lay on the floor. Blood stained his shirt. His head was tilted to the sky. His mouth was open and his eyes were lifeless and open. His hand still clutched the knife.

Jim said nothing. His heart was pounding. His body was filled with adrenaline.

He’d never shot anyone before. He’d never even brandished his revolver until today. He’d gone to shoot at the range, and that was about it. Sure, he’d been hunting once or twice, but that was different.

He’d never even hit the birds he’d been aiming at.

The revolver was still in his hand.

He put it back in its holster and rose slowly to his feet.

His back felt stiff, and there was pain in his lower back from falling onto the hardwood floor.

Judy had moved to the opposite corner of the room. She cowered there, her body shaking. She stared at Jim with an expression of intense fear, as if she didn’t recognize him.

There was a phone there on the wall, and she grabbed it, clutching it.

Her fingers frantically moved across the buttons.

“It doesn’t work,” said Jim, speaking calmly. “Look, Judy, I was defending myself. And you. You saw it. He attacked me with a knife. He was trying to steal your provisions. That’s as good as killing you. Now, where’s Aly?”

Jim felt himself coming back down from the intensity of the shooting. And his mind turned immediately to his wife.

“Aly!” he called out, pointing his mouth in the direction of the stairs. “Aly! It’s me, Jim!”

If Aly was upstairs, wouldn’t she have heard the gunshot?

Maybe she was upstairs, terrified.

“Aly! It’s OK! You can come down.”

“She’s not here,” said Judy, her voice shaking.

“What do you mean she’s not here?”

Judy just shook her head. Her fingers were again moving across the buttons of the phone.

“I always knew you were no good,” she said. “But I never thought you’d come to this. Shooting a poor boy like that… It was just some cans and water… It wasn’t like he was trying to take my jewelry.”

“Your jewelry!” said Jim, raising his voice. “This is more serious. Don’t you realize what’s going on?”

It was a dumb question. Obviously she didn’t realize what was going on. She was still trying to contact the police.

There was a loud knock at the door.

Jim ignored it.

But the knock continued.

“Jim!” It was Rob’s voice.

Jim crossed the distance to the door rapidly and threw the door open.

Rob rushed in, his face sweaty, looking worried and frantic.

“There’s a whole lot of people out there, and they’re all starting to get…” But his voice trailed off as his eyes fell on the body on the floor.

“Self defense,” said Jim, simply.

Rob didn’t seem to know what to say, so he did what he often did, which was ignore the situation and plow on ahead.

“The people outside,” he continued, breathlessly. “They’ve surrounded the car. I don’t know what they’re going to do. They think we kidnapped the woman in the back of the car.”

With the mention of a woman in the car, the terror on Judy’s face doubled. She audibly gasped, and clutched the phone even harder. Her eyes darted between Jim and Rob, and her body looked frozen, petrified.

Jim said nothing for a moment. His mind was racing.

There was no time to waste.

And he needed to find his wife.

“Judy,” said Jim, speaking in as calm of a voice as he could muster. “This was self defense. He was coming at me with a knife. And we did not kidnap anyone. We’re trying to take her to the hospital. The phones are all down and this is a very serious situation. I’m trying to find Aly so that I can help her. Can you tell me where she is?”

Jim stared at Judy and waited. Something seemed to be happening with her, as if she was struggling between two choices. Clearly, she didn’t want to believe reality. She didn’t want to admit to herself what was happening. She wanted to stay in the safe confines of how she’d always believed the world really was.

The room itself had never seemed so bleak. Blood from the corpse was starting to leak onto the hardwood floor, and there was a stench that meant Tim had evacuated his bowels.

“I thought she was with you,” said Judy, in a voice so quiet Jim barely heard her.

“She’s not with me,” said Jim. “Do you know where she might be?”

There was no point in yelling at her or demanding that she tell him. She either would or she wouldn’t.

Jim found himself involuntarily holding his breath.

Rob’s ragged out-of-breath breathing seemed to fill up the otherwise quiet room.

“He said she was arrested last night,” said Judy, gesturing to the corpse.

“Arrested?” said Jim.

Judy nodded.

What in the world would she have been arrested for?

But Jim knew it didn’t matter.

He didn’t have any other leads on where she might be. The only other places he could check would be her work, and possibly a friend’s house. But those were unlikely.

“You’re sure that he said she’d been arrested?”

Judy nodded again.

Jim couldn’t think of any reason that Tim would have wanted to make something like that up.

And stranger things had happened.

“OK,” said Jim. “We’re headed to the police station. Let’s go.”

He stared at Judy.

She didn’t move.

“Come on,” he said. “You’re coming with us.”

She shook her head, with the rest of her body frozen.

“Judy,” said Jim. “Things are going to get really bad really quickly. With the power out, and no communication, people are going to start panicking. We need to get out of Pittsford and out of the entire area. Somewhere where we can ride this out.”

But she wasn’t budging. And just continued to shake her head.

What should he do?

Part of him wanted to just grab Judy and take her in the car.

But who knew, really, if where he was headed was any safer than her house.

And it wasn’t his style to take people places against their will. No matter what the circumstances.

Once he got Aly, he’d have to come back. Surely her own daughter would be able to convince Judy to leave.

“We’ll be back,” said Jim. “I’m going to find your daughter.”

Judy said nothing.

“Come on, Rob.”

He’d come back for Judy. And for the supplies.

He took one last look at the body on the floor before walking through the front door.

A crowd had gathered around the Subaru wagon in the driveway. Their heads turned as Jim and Rob appeared on the front steps.

“There he is!”

One member of the crowd didn’t turn her head. She was busy smashing a rock into the back rear window of the Subaru. Apparently she was trying to break the window.

“They think we kidnapped that woman,” whispered Rob.

They had to get out of there. And fast.

Jim didn’t like the idea of Aly stuck in a holding cell at the local police station.

He’d do what he had to do.

Once again, Jim drew his revolver.

He pointed it towards the sky.

He had no intention of shooting anyone else.

Not right now.

But he could use it as a threat.

The crowd fell silent when they saw the gun.

“Back away from the car,” shouted Jim, in a loud, commanding voice.

9

ALY

It felt like hours had passed. In the darkness she felt like she was losing her sense of time.

Her watch wasn’t working.

The only thing to count the passing of time, the only signal from the outside world, were the shouts of the deranged man locked up in the cage near her.

His shouting was ceaseless, intense, and insane. And it all startled her to the bone.

Sure, he’d remain quiet for a couple minutes here and there. Just long enough until she thought he was finally done.

Then he’d scream again, and she’d feel the cold chill working its way up her back.

“You regret me, but I won’t forget you and all those of you who have wrong me, locked me up, chained me, and left me to die and fight in nothing but darkness!”

Aly had remained completely silent. She didn’t want to antagonize him further. She didn’t want to make herself a target.

She kept telling herself that, behind bars, there was nothing he could do to her. He could scream all he wanted, but they were just words. Nothing but words.

Soon enough, the lights would come back on.

Soon enough, the police and other staff would return. They’d release her. Maybe she’d pay a fine and apologize. Maybe she’d have to do community service.

And life would go back to normal.

Suddenly, there was a sound off in the distance.

Was it a door opening?

She pressed her face close to the bars, trying to see if she could see a glimpse of light anywhere.

But there was nothing.

No light.

But there were noises.

In the silence, she heard footsteps and whispers.

Who was there?

If it was the police, why would they be whispering?

Had someone broken into the station?

“Aly?” called out a voice.

She froze for a moment. How did they know her name?

Then she recognized the voice and felt silly and stupid.

It was her husband. How could she not have known it was him?

“Jim?” she called out, just to make sure.

“Aly!”

“Thieves and braggarts! Rogues and swine coming to plunder in the days of the aftermath!” The crazy man’s scream erupted like a volcano of sound through the quiet.

“What the hell was that?”

A narrow beam of light appeared in the hallway. It must have been a flashlight.

And Jim was on the other end of it.

“Aly?”

“I’m here, Jim.”

The flashlight beam found her face, and she went momentarily blind from the intensity of the light. She closed her eyes hard.

When she opened them, the beam was shining on Jim’s face. It looked eerie in the cold white light. The angles of his face were sharper than normal.

But it was Jim. Her husband.

And she’d never been so glad to see him.

For the moment, she forgot all their problems. All their arguments. All the stress.

Her heart leapt.

“It’s OK, Aly,” said Jim, his voice deep and calm. “We’re going to get you out of here.”

“Out of here? What are you talking about?”

“I’m going to find the key and get you out. We’re getting out of the whole Rochester area.”

Aly felt her heart starting to pound. Anxiety was taking over. The initial relief of seeing her husband instantly vanished.

“You’re talking about breaking me out of jail? Have you gone crazy?”

“No. But the world’s about to,” said Jim.

“Listen,” said another voice. She recognized it as Rob’s. “I thought he was nuts too. But I think he’s right. The power’s out everywhere. Across the whole city. Phones don’t work. People are starting to lose it.”

“You can’t break me out of jail, Jim,” said Aly, starting to use the voice that she’d used during their long arguments. “This is so like you. You don’t think things through. Look at you with that idiotic business. You jumped right in and now you’re paying the consequences. Don’t you realize what the consequences would be for breaking me out of jail? I don’t know what’s going on with the power, but I’m sure it’ll come back on.”

“It might come back on,” said Jim. “But not for a long time. What do you think is going to happen without the shipping systems? There isn’t going to be food. Or city water.”

“I’m sure it’s just here.”

“There was something with the sun,” said Rob.

“It’s all over,” said Jim. “At least as far as we know. Across the whole US. Probably the whole world. There’s no help coming in from anywhere. And we’ve got to get out of here and go somewhere where we can ride out the chaos that’s about to erupt. Rob, come on, we’ve got to find the keys.”

“No!” said Aly.

But it was too late.

She watched the flashlight beam traveling down the hallway as her husband and his deadbeat friend went to look for the key.

She tried to reason with herself. First of all, they wouldn’t be able to find the key. They didn’t just leave jail cell keys lying around. And even if they did, she was sure she wouldn’t be counted as an accessory to any crime. She had no priors of any sort.

Surely a reasonable judge would see what happened. He’d see that she’d been kidnapped against her will.

“Archbishops recant and bow before the will of the great Lord of Darkness!” came the deafening scream of the crazed man. “Vague consultation with criminals can’t commence without complete consent!”

“What the hell was that?” came Rob’s voice, drifting down from some other section of the station.

Then the station fell silent again.

And she waited in the darkness, worrying about what her husband was going to do.

As soon as she could arrange it, he’d soon be her ex-husband.

She couldn’t support this sort of behavior any longer. He’d always been impulsive, but when they’d gotten married, it’d been a sexy, interesting trait. She’d liked that he was a take-charge sort of man who didn’t back down. Now, it was tiresome. She had to live with the consequences of his decisions day in and day out. To survive in the modern world, a man couldn’t be totally a man. And Jim didn’t get that. And he never would.

In a way, it as if Jim wasn’t made for this modern world. He would have done well in the old West, in the gun slinging times, if those weren’t just a modern creation by the film industry.

He would have done well as a caveman. He would have been able to turn on that semi-savage survival instinct. He would have been able to do what was necessary.

But now, in the modern world, he couldn’t accept that he was just a cog in the machine. He couldn’t make that mental leap that was required by the modern man.

He always wanted to do things his own way. He always wanted to do what made sense to him, even if it clashed with the way things were supposed to be done.

Aly took a couple deep breaths and concentrated on exhaling slowly. She felt herself start to calm down a little.

There was nothing she could do.

She’d just have to go along with it.

Let Jim take her in the car.

She’d be able to explain everything later to the police, to the judge, to her lawyer, and whoever was involved.

But when Jim came back ten minutes later, with only the beam of his flashlight visible, she found her calmness evaporating. Her heart started to pound again.

She’d give it one last attempt. One last attempt to convince him that what he was doing was wrong.

“Jim,” she said, over the clatter of steel keys, her voice taking on a pleading tone. “Just listen to me, Jim. You’re going to get in a lot of trouble. If you unlock that door, you’re going to get arrested. And you’re going to lose the computer shop. You know how much that shop means to you.”

“The shop doesn’t mean anything anymore,” said Jim.

It was the first time he’d spoken since returning with the keys.

In the darkness, Aly could hear him trying keys in the lock of her cell door.

The flashlight beam danced back and forth. It seemed as if he might have been holding it in his mouth, as his hands were occupied.

Aly’s jaw dropped and her mouth hung open.

He didn’t care about the shop?

How many arguments had they had about the importance of the shop?

And now he didn’t care about it?

Something was wrong.

Maybe there was something to what he was saying.

After all, she couldn’t see him just completely going crazy, completely losing it and having a complete break from reality.

Aly heard the heavy bolt of her jail cell door sliding.

She heard the hinges as the door swung open.

A strong hand grabbed hers.

The crazy man in the next cell screamed again. This time he had no words. Just a blood curling high-pitched scream that echoed throughout the darkness.

She felt panicked.

She didn’t know whether to resist.

Or go with her husband.

Could she trust him?

“Come on, Aly,” he said. His voice sounded deep and strange in the darkness. “It’s going to be OK. But we need to get out of here.”

After only a few moments, she gave in.

She let herself be led through the darkened station towards the back door.

The three of them walked silently, following the flashlight beam as if it was a guide.

Rob’s breathing was heavy and loud.

She couldn’t believe she was escaping jail.

She’d be in so much trouble.

She knew she’d regret this when this was all over.

But she couldn’t help thinking that Jim might be on to something.

And she couldn’t stand another moment in that darkness with that nut screaming like that.

The back door was already partially open.

“We had to smash it real good,” muttered Rob as he hit the door and it swung open.

The sunlight, even though it was cloudy and overcast, nearly blinded her.

Aly put her hand up to shield her eyes.

“The trunk’s open,” said Rob.

“Shit,” muttered Jim. “She’s escaped.”

“What’s happening?” said Aly. “Who escaped? What are you talking about?”

Finally, she was able to lower her arm. She squinted as she looked out at the parking lot full of squad cars. The familiar Subaru wagon sat there, with the rear door open.

Jim took her by the arm and led her towards the car. He was reaching for something in his waistband.

“Hands in the air,” screamed someone. “Or I’ll shoot.” A young female voice, full of panic.

10

JESSICA

Jessica had woken up in the back of a strange car. A station wagon, to be exact.

She was wearing her bicycle helmet, and her entire body hurt, like she’d been run over by a truck.

Her head throbbed, and there was blood on her torn pants.

It hurt to shift her body.

At first, she didn’t think she’d be able to move. She lay on her back, with her legs folded up awkwardly underneath her thighs, twisted together like a pretzel.

She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the pain.

How had she gotten here?

What had happened?

But nothing came to her.

It was a strange sensation.

The last thing she remembered was getting ready to go to work at the bike shop.

Had that been today? Or yesterday? Or even longer than that?

She started mentally asking herself questions, like who the president was, what country she lived in, and what her name was.

She knew the answers. They came readily.

She knew who she was.

She was Jessica. She worked as a bike mechanic. She knew all about bikes. She lived in Rochester above a pizza shop.

But still she didn’t know what had happened to her.

She felt herself starting to panic. It was a horrible sensation, not to know what had happened.

Mentally, she took a step back and tried to piece together what she knew.

Given her injuries, she must have been in some sort of accident. It seemed likely that whatever memory problems she was experiencing were a result of the accident.

But why wasn’t she at the hospital? Or lying on the road somewhere?

Her mind went back to the one memory that was clearer than any others she’d ever had. It was that night in the dark alley when she’d been attacked. That night was the reason that she’d bought the gun that she now had.

The gun.

She opened her eyes suddenly and felt for the gun in her pocket. It was still there, small and compact, but with a good weight to it.

She drew it, holster and all, from her pocket.

With her left hand shaking, she grasped the holster and with her right, she drew the small Glock from the holster.

It felt good to have it in her hand.

That memory of that one night haunted her.

She wasn’t going to let it happen again.

Her anxious mind went racing through the possibilities.

Maybe someone had attacked her, knocked her out, and thrown her here in a car.

Or maybe not.

She shouldn’t let herself rush to conclusions.

Suddenly, she remembered that she normally wore a watch. She glanced at her wrist, but her wrist watch was completely blank. It was just a cheap digital watch she’d bought from a big box store a year or so ago. Maybe the battery was dead.

From her other pocket, she took out her cell phone. The screen was cracked. And it didn’t turn on, no matter how long she held the button.

Her head felt foggy and the panic wasn’t helping.

She needed to get out of here.

Slowly, she tried to sit up. Her whole body reacted with searing pain. It was so intense and strong that she couldn’t even tell where it was coming from. Maybe her back. But maybe somewhere else.

Jessica forced her way through the pain, sitting up as rapidly as she could.

The ceiling of the car was low, and her helmeted head smacked into the upholstered roof, adding another wave of pain to her headache.

Somehow, she managed to open the door from the inside. She got out, stood up straight, and immediately felt like she was going to collapse onto the pavement.

Her vision was blurry and she felt overwhelmed with dizziness. But with each second that she stood there, the feeling began to pass.

The driver’s side door was unlocked. Jessica threw it open and felt for the keys in the ignition. But they weren’t there.

She was about to fight through the pain and get herself into the driver’s seat in order to hunt around for the keys when she heard voices behind her.

Ignoring the pain, she dashed forward. She threw herself into some tall hedges that lined the parking lot.

The voices were coming towards the car.

They must be the people who’d kidnapped her.

She wasn’t going to run away.

She wasn’t going to flee.

This wasn’t going to be like the last time, when the best she’d been able to do once it was all over was to rush away and never tell anyone.

No. She was done being a victim.

They’d pay for this.

She was vaguely aware that she wasn’t thinking clearly. She vaguely remembered that she was suffering from amnesia. And that this could be affecting her decision making.

But she brushed those thoughts away as she stepped forward from the bushes and brandished her Glock.

Her finger slipped into the trigger guard and rested against the trigger.

“Hands in the air,” she yelled. “Or I’ll shoot.”

Three figures swam slowly into focus in her blurry field of vision.

None of them moved.

“Hands above your heads,” she yelled again.

Six hands rose into the air slowly.

“Don’t do anything rash,” came a deep male voice.

The present events weren’t coming through to her clearly. She was dizzier than she’d realized.

She felt like she was going to pass out again.

“We’re not trying to hurt you. Just put the gun down and we can help you. We were just trying to get you to a hospital.”

“Who is she?”

“We’ll have to explain later.”

“Jim hit her with the car. She was going fast in the middle of the road.”

A fragment of a memory threatened to surface. Something about trying to get home. The cars were stopped in the middle of the road.

But why would they be?

It must have been a dream. Or a false memory.

Vaguely, as she stared at the three people, she became aware that they weren’t a threat. They didn’t have malice in their eyes like the ones who’d attacked her so long ago.

“Let me help you,” came a woman’s voice. She sounded kind and caring.

“Aly, don’t. She’s got a gun.”

“It’ll be fine. Everything’s going to be fine, isn’t it, dear?”

A woman was approaching her through the fog of her vision.

It didn’t seem like the woman would hurt her.

“Now let’s put that gun down, OK, dear?”

Jessica didn’t know what to do. She was caught up in the fear and the haziness and the confusion.

If only she could remember what was going on, maybe it would all make sense.

11

JIM

Aly was helping the young woman back into the Subaru. She’d taken the gun from her and talked to her in a soothing voice, telling her that everything was going to be OK in the end, that they were going to get her help.

The young woman still glared at Jim and Rob with suspicious, narrowed eyes. But she seemed more open to Aly.

“Glad to see she’s OK,” said Rob.

“I don’t think she’s out of the weeds yet.”

“She woke up. That’s a good sign.”

“She seems confused. I hope she didn’t suffer brain damage.”

“She was wearing a helmet.”

Jim nodded.

“So what are we going to do? Take her to the hospital?”

“I don’t know,” said Jim.

This wasn’t going the way he’d hoped it would go.

The whole situation was a mess.

Now that he had Aly, the entire weight of the situation fell heavily on him. He’d been focusing so much on just getting to her, that he’d been mentally ignoring the countless serious risks they now faced.

He cursed himself for not having a better plan. Before the EMP, he’d taken some private pride in believing that he understood the havoc an EMP could bring. He’d believed that he, unlike the others, was prepared.

Sure, he had his little bag of odds and ends in the Subaru. But that was about it.

Now that he was faced with the situation head on, he realized he really had nothing. No plan. No place to go.

And worst of all, everyone he cared about didn’t have the slightest idea what an EMP was.

Both his wife and Rob were completely uneducated. He’d have to explain it all to them.

And that would take time. Precious time.

Jim glanced at his watch.

The clock was ticking. The longer the city went without power or communication, the greater the panic would become.

Tensions would rise.

A riot was inevitable. It was just a question of how long they had.

Jim threw open the rear door and grabbed the woman’s bicycle. He thought about tossing it aside, to make room for everyone in the car, but then he thought better of it.

Who knew when or if they’d be able to refill the gas tank. A bicycle might be useful later on.

There was some rope in the back, underneath the upholstered floorboards, where the spare tire sat. Jim grabbed it and began lashing the road bike to the roof. Fortunately, there were bars that continued a sort of roof rack. Good for tying extra gear without having to run rope through the windows, making the doors inoperable.

Jim’s mind was stuck on what he should have done. How he should have prepared.

Sure, he’d known there were things with his plan he could have improved on. And he’d known that at the time. He’d known he’d need a place to head, more gear, more of a plan. But it had always felt like there was all the time in the world to get those pieces in place.

The biggest thing he’d neglected was simple education. If only he’d bothered to spend twenty minutes explaining the nature of an EMP and the aftermath to his wife, to Rob, even to his mother in law, this whole process would have been a lot smoother.

Jim got in the Subaru and cranked the engine, driving slowly out of the police station parking lot.

It was a strange sight, seeing it full of police cruisers, with no police in sight.

Jim’s mind set to working. He ignored the chatter in the car, the frantic voices of his wife and friend and the stranger.

He needed a plan.

All he needed to do was stay calm and stay logical.

The situation was a mess, completely the opposite of how he would have liked it to have gone.

He’d wasted precious time trying to find his wife, with the police station, and with the amnesiac girl.

Worst of all, his mother-in-law and the supplies were all the way across town.

And no one but Jim seemed to understand the gravity of the situation.

And he still had to figure out where they were going to go.

Well, one step at a time.

His plan for now was to pick up his mother in law and the supplies. He’d search through the house to find whatever else he could.

He would have liked to go back to his house to scrounge up whatever else he could. There was food in the fridge and some cans here and there. Not much, but it was something. And he might have had a couple extra flashlights, and some spare rounds.

But he didn’t like the idea of heading back into Rochester which was more densely populated than Pittsford.

No, it was better to get out of there.

Out of Pittsford. Out of the greater Rochester area.

And then they’d figure out where to go.

And how to live as society crumbled.

There was a chance that society would hold together, that they’d be able to rebuild before chaos took over.

But Jim wasn’t counting on it.

“How’s she doing back there?” said Jim, glancing into the rearview mirror at the woman he’d hit with his car.

“I think she needs to get to a hospital,” said Aly.

Jim shook his head. “There’s no time for that now,” he said.

“What the hell’s gotten into you, Jim? You’re not going to take a sick woman to the hospital?”

“If she has brain damage, there’s not much they’re going to be able to do for her. If she’s lost some memories, only time will bring them back. She’s alive and breathing. She’ll be safer with us.”

“So where are you taking me? And just to be clear, I’m going to tell the police exactly what happened when they finally catch up with us. If you’re not going to turn yourself in, the least you could do is take her to the hospital. It might look good when you go before a judge.”

“What are you talking about?” said Jim.

“He thinks the world’s ending,” said Rob.

“Someone please tell me what’s going on,” said the amnesiac woman in a loud voice, almost a shout.

“OK,” shouted Jim. “Everyone calm down and be quiet. I’m going to explain everything. Just listen and look around.”

He’d been loud enough that everyone shut up.

He was driving down Connecticut Avenue, which was a four lane road. Two lanes on either side.

There were plenty of cars stopped in the middle of the road. The drivers, for the most part, remained in their cars. Some of them had opened their doors.

Jim weaved the Subaru between the stopped cars.

In his rearview mirror, he saw one other moving car, which was staying about a hundred feet behind him. It was a pickup truck, one of those small old Nissans that had small diameter wheels and rode fairly low to the ground.

“OK, everyone,” said Jim, speaking in a commanding voice that dared them not to listen to him carefully. “Look around you carefully. You see those stopped cars? They’re not doing that for fun. Their cars don’t work anymore.”

Jim continued speaking, giving them a pretty basic rundown of what an EMP was and what it affected.

Of course, Jim wasn’t completely sure of exactly what electronics an EMP actually would affect. He’d read various reports and various opinions online, and everyone seemed to believe something a little bit different.

What he was sure of was that the power grid wasn’t just temporarily down. It was damaged and it would take considerable work to get it running again.

“Now just imagine this going on all across the country,” said Jim. “Imagine the majority of the cars and trucks simply sitting there. Where’s the food going to come from? And the water? Now I’m sure you’ve all seen how people around here react when there’s a bad blizzard coming in. And we’re all pretty used to the snow, but still you’ll see huge lines in the supermarkets, and the bottled water going completely missing off the shelves in a matter of hours. You’ll see fights here and there breaking out, just from rising tensions. Now that’s exactly what’s going to happen.”

“So you’re completely serious about all this?” said Aly. For once, he couldn’t read her tone of voice or tell what she was thinking.

Either she still thought he was having a psychotic break or she was beginning to take him seriously.

“Yeah,” said Jim. “Very serious. We need to get out of here.”

“I think he’s making some good points,” said Rob. “People were going crazy at your mom’s house… They were thinking that…”

“You saw it with your own eyes, Rob,” said Jim, cutting him off. “And you still have doubts?”

“Well,” said Rob. “I’ll admit people were going pretty crazy, but you know I don’t see why you think that everything’s going to fall apart so easily. Like in a snowstorm maybe there’s a little bit of chaos and then people pretty much go home and wait it out.”

“But what happens when the power doesn’t come back on tomorrow, or the next day, and then it’s still off a week out? And people are hungry and thirsty and they’re realizing that they’re literally going to die in a matter of weeks simply from hunger?”

“Huh,” muttered Rob, as if he was stumped.

Jim glanced in his rearview mirror again. The small truck was still following them at the same distance.

Up ahead, there were two cars stopped. They sat next to each other, blocking the way.

Jim downshifted and swerved into the oncoming lane to avoid them.

He was driving about forty, which was a little faster than normal for this road. But he didn’t want to go fast and risk an accident. That’d be the last thing they’d need right now.

“It’s going to be OK, honey,” his wife was saying in the backseat. “Now tell me, you don’t remember anything?”

“I remember some things… I know who I am… and…”

Jim didn’t have time to pay attention.

Up ahead, there was something blocking the entire road. Something huge. But it was still far enough off in the distance that he couldn’t quite make out what it was.

Was it a tractor trailer lying sideways?

No, it seemed bigger than that.

They’d taken a different route to the police station. He’d chosen this way back after realizing it was a more direct route.

“What the hell is that?” muttered Rob, from the passenger seat.

Suddenly, it hit Jim.

He knew what it was.

“It’s a plane,” he said.

“A plane?”

“The EMP would knock out the plane’s electronics,” said Jim.

“So it’d just fall to the ground? It doesn’t look too busted up.”

They were getting closer, and Jim hadn’t yet slowed down.

Jim shook his head. “They’d have, what, twenty minutes gliding in the air. And that’s max.”

They had a good view of the plane now.

“Wow,” said Rob. “It’s a big one.”

Jim said nothing.

From the back of the car, he heard his wife gasp.

“You believe me now?” said Jim.

She said nothing.

“What are you going to do?” said Rob. “Why aren’t you slowing down?”

“We’re going to need to get around it,” said Jim.

“Why not just go another way?”

“There’s no other way,” said Jim.

“Sure there is.”

“It’d take us an extra half an hour with how much we’d have to backtrack. We don’t have time for that.”

In the rearview mirror, the small Nissan truck was still following at a distance. Did they want something? Were they following them for some reason? Or were they just headed in the same direction?

12

ALY

Maybe her husband was onto something. The stopped cars in the middle of the road had been strange enough.

But now there was a downed plane?

“Where are the ambulances and police?” said Aly. “You know, the rescue crews?”

She immediately felt stupid for saying that. If most of the cars weren’t working, how were rescue crews going to get there?

“Maybe the radio has something about it,” said Rob, reaching over to press the radio’s power button.

“Doesn’t work,” muttered Jim, but he let him turn it on anyway.

“No static,” said Rob. “Nothing. It’s dead.”

No radio. Cars weren’t working. The police had rushed out of the station, and apparently on foot.

All signs pointed to Jim being right.

And the only other option she’d had in her mind was that her husband had gone mad.

And going crazy wasn’t like him. He’d never shown any signs of mental illness, after all.

But it couldn’t be true.

It just couldn’t.

The young woman next to her had remained mostly silent, almost as if she was lost in a daze. But she seemed as calm as could be under the circumstances. She made no sudden movements, and showed no sign of threatening them again.

Nevertheless, her presence made Aly nervous. As if she could be more nervous.

The woman had clearly shown some kind of instability. Not long ago, she’d been pointing a gun in their direction.

Anxiety had always been an issue for Aly. Ever since she was a kid, she’d had periods where the anxiety had seemed to take over completely. She’d learned some mental techniques, like focusing on her breathing, that had helped her through things. She hadn’t let it slow her down in life or her career.

But she felt it coming on strong now.

She knew not to fight it.

She knew she had to just ride the anxiety out.

“What are you looking in the mirror for?” said Aly, noticing that her husband kept glancing back.

“There’s a truck behind us,” said Jim.

He said nothing more.

“That’s it? There’s a truck behind us?”

She could hear the slight panic introducing itself into the tone of her voice.

Jim ignored her.

Aly leaned into the middle seat so that she could see out the windshield better.

“Why don’t you slow down a little?”

Jim didn’t answer.

“Now I remember why we were always fighting so much,” muttered Aly. “You have that terrible habit of simply not answering my questions.”

The plane was coming more and more into focus.

It was a huge plane, but Aly didn’t know anything about planes.

There were windows on the sides, so it must have been some kind of commercial passenger plane. There were markings on the side and tail. Some kind of company logo, but she didn’t recognize it.

“It looks like they landed OK,” said Rob, from the front seat.

“They’re facing the wrong way,” said Jim.

“Facing the wrong way?”

“There’s no way they’re OK,” said Jim. “Otherwise they would have landed the same way we’re facing, using the road as a runway.”

Sure enough, after a couple minutes of tense silence, the plane was fully in view.

The road had curved around in such a way that there’d been a clump of trees and buildings obscuring the view of the front of the plane.

Now, they could see it in its entirety.

And the front of the plane was completely gone.

About twenty five percent of the plane’s length was simply missing.

The rear section seemed unscathed, although some large scrapes and scratches were now visible. They ran along the plane on the portion underneath the windows.

The young woman let out a gasp of surprise and craned her head to see more of it.

Aly found herself holding her breath, noting that her heart rate had started to accelerate. She could feel her heart thumping in her chest.

“I can’t…” said Rob, his voice full of surprise, without finishing his thought.

Jim said nothing. He just kept driving straight down the road, right towards the plane.

Something was on fire. She could see the smoke billowing out of the charred wreckage of the front of the plane.

The ground was covered in charred rubble.

Trees that had been in the path of the plane had been decimated.

The front of the plane had crashed into a two story brick building, which was now mostly rubble.

A horrible stench hung in the air. It smelled like burning plastic and chemicals.

“Jim! What are you doing?”

They were close now, only a hundred feet away.

The plane was looming up huge in front of them.

“We’re not turning back,” said Jim.

He slowed the Subaru down, jerked the wheel, and made a sudden turn off the road.

The car bounced as they drove over the small curb and as the wheels hit the bumpy ground off to the right side of the plane.

“We’re not going to make it,” said Rob, practically yelling. “Look up ahead.”

The Subaru bumped along tremendously as Jim made a wide arc around the rear of the plane.

“It’s fine,” said Jim.

The fire in the front of the plane seemed to have intensified. Smoke was billowing now in their direction, even though they were on the opposite end.

The absence of any rescue crews whatsoever suddenly really struck Aly.

“Aren’t we going to stop?”

“Stop?”

“And help them. The survivors. They’re going to be in bad shape.”

“We’ve got to concentrate on us,” said Jim. There was a hardened edge to his voice, one that she’d heard before when he’d made up his mind about something and didn’t want to change it. “There’s going to be a lot of people in dire circumstances. We’re not going to be able to help them all. So we’ve got to draw the line.”

“Seems a bit selfish,” said Aly. “Not that you would know anything about that.” She said the last part somewhat sarcastically even without intending it. She’d accused him of selfishness in countless arguments, and she knew that he’d catch her tone, even if the others didn’t.

“I’ve got to concentrate on driving,” said Jim.

Aly saw him glance in the mirror again.

Aly turned around to see that the small truck that’d been behind them had decided to also circle around the plane.

Now the truck was closer, and it was driving faster than they were across the bumpy ground.

But only a minute later, Jim drove the Subaru back over the curb and they were back on the road, which looked fairly clear of vehicles. There were a few dots up ahead that must have been stopped cars.

“You feeling OK, honey?” said Aly, putting her hand around the woman next to her.

She didn’t answer at first, just glared suspiciously at Aly and shook her shoulder free of Aly’s hand.

“Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be alright.”

“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep,” said Jim. “But we’re going to do the best we can do get out of here.”

“And what then?” said Aly, realizing that her husband didn’t actually have a plan, aside from getting out of the city.

“We still have to figure that part out,” said Jim, who wouldn’t take his eyes off the rearview mirror.

“Watch the road,” said Aly. “You can’t keep looking behind us.”

“We might have a bigger problem than that,” said Jim.

Aly turned around once again.

Behind them, she could hear the whine of the small truck’s engine.

The truck was accelerating rapidly and now it pulled up alongside them.

There were two men in the car. Big burly muscular types who looked like they’d spend their lives going between the gym and some tough manual labor job. The one in the passenger seat, who was closest to Aly, wore a red and black checked flannel shirt unbuttoned all the way down to reveal a dirt stained white t-shirt. Neither were clean shaven.

“What do they want?” said Rob.

The Nissan kept pace with them as Jim weaved around a stopped car. The Nissan showed no signs of simply passing them.

They wanted something. That was clear.

The man in the passenger seat had the window down now, and he waved his hand in an unmistakable gesture. They wanted Jim to stop driving.

The passenger was shouting something, but Aly couldn’t make out what it was over the wind and the wine of the engines.

She saw Jim’s hand move as he shifted gears and increased their speed.

But the Nissan kept pace with them.

“What are you going to do? They want you to stop!”

“I’m not stopping,” said Jim.

“He’s got a gun!”

The passenger of the truck had produced a gun. Some kind of big handgun, which he held menacingly out into the open air, pointing it towards the sky. Now, he lowered it and pointed it towards Jim.

Jim glanced over, saw the gun, and reached down into his waistband.

Aly didn’t know the first thing about guns except that Jim had one. She wasn’t against them the way some people were. Jim, of course, had urged her over the years to learn something about them, at the very least. But for one reason or another she’d never gotten around to it. They just didn’t interest her that much. Her life had seemed so calm and safe that she couldn’t imagine a situation in which a gun of any sort would have been necessary or even useful.

It had been just one of many things that she and Jim hadn’t seen eye to eye on in their marriage.

A gunshot rang out.

The man in the truck had fired his weapon. She didn’t know if he’d shot at them and missed, or merely fired a warning shot into the air.

From where Aly sat, caddy-corner and to the rear of her husband, she saw him swiftly draw his revolver from his holster.

The window was already down.

Jim pointed the gun at the truck, his eyes off the road for a few brief seconds.

He fired.

The sound echoed through the Subaru, causing an intense ringing in Aly’s ears.

Aly’s anxiety had never been higher. She felt the panic coming on.

She shouted, something meaningless. She didn’t even know what it was.

Glancing over, the two men in the Nissan were still alive. Jim had missed.

There was a car stopped in their lane up ahead.

Jim slowed the Subaru down, his head moving as he tried to find a path for them to continue.

The Nissan took the opportunity. Suddenly it sped up and swerved aggressively, coming right into the path of the Subaru.

Jim jerked the wheel, but there wasn’t enough time or space to get out of the way.

He slammed on the brakes.

The Subaru jerked to a sudden stop.

The Nissan was stopped in front of them, the passenger side closest to the Subaru’s front.

The passenger door of the Nissan was thrown open. The passenger stepped out, looking tall and imposing. He had his gun in hand.

Jim threw the car into reverse, hit the accelerator, and the engine started whining as the Subaru rocketed backwards.

Aly let out an anxious cry halfway between a scream and something else.

The young woman next to her sat, petrified, like a deer in the headlights.

Rob was completely quiet.

Through the windshield, the man in the checkered shirt raised his gun. His hand was straight out, and he pointed the gun directly at the Subaru.

A thought hit Ally like a ton of bricks: the world had changed.

13

JIM

The Subaru engine was whining as they sped backwards.

Jim had the accelerator all the way to the floor. They were going as fast as they could.

The man in front of them fired two shots.

“He’s trying to kill us!” shouted Rob.

As if that was any help.

Jim didn’t know what the man was aiming for. Maybe the tire, or maybe Jim himself.

Both shots missed.

A third shot.

The bullet struck the corner of the windshield on Jim’s side, sending a spider web of cracks through it.

Aly cried out after the bullet struck the windshield.

Jim’s mind was racing through the possibilities.

Behind them lay the crashed plane. There was no cross street that would lead them to Aly’s mother’s house. Not for miles and miles.

He could keep going in reverse, turn around, and head a different way.

That was the safest course.

But it would cost them time.

And if they took another route, who could say that they wouldn’t run into another situation like this one?

The men in the Nissan clearly wanted the Subaru. Somehow, like Jim, they recognized the gravity of the situation. And they were acting early, trying to secure another moving vehicle. For whatever reason.

Not that their reasoning mattered much.

They were clearly willing to go beyond the law to achieve their ends. They were willing to kill.

The Nissan sat up ahead. It hadn’t moved. The man in the checkered shirt looked smaller now because of the distance.

There was a good possibility that if Jim turned around, the Nissan would just follow them. Wherever they went.

In an instant, he’d made up his mind.

“All right everyone,” said Jim. “We’re not going to turn around.”

They were far enough away now, out of range of the man’s handgun.

Jim stopped the car and put it into neutral.

“But they’re shooting at us,” said Aly.

“You can’t just drive by, Jim,” said Rob, sounding just as worried as Aly. “They’re going to blast us to bits.”

“Not if we put on an offensive,” said Jim. “Turning around is just as risky. We need to get to Judy’s house and out of here. We’re already losing time.”

Jim glanced down at his watch for a moment. It was already past twelve.

Turning around in his seat, Jim looked at the young woman that he’d hit with his car. “How are you feeling?” he said.

“OK,” she muttered.

“You still don’t remember anything?”

“I know who I am and everything, but I don’t know how I got here, other than from what you told me.”

“You still think we’re a danger to you?”

She shook her head. “No,” she said.

“Jim, what the hell are you doing?” said Aly. “Why are you harassing her?”

“I’m not harassing her. We need her help.” Jim continued to look directly into the eyes of the young woman. “What’s your name?”

“Jessica.”

“OK, Jessica. Are you feeling OK? Mentally speaking.”

She nodded.

“Do you know how to use that gun that you had on you?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I’ve taken courses and everything.”

“OK, good.”

“Jim,” said Rob. “The guy’s getting back in that truck. I think they’re going to come after us.”

Jim didn’t even look.

“Are you crazy, Jim? She was pointing that at us! No offense, Jessica.” She added the last part hastily, as if she was worried she’d offend the woman.

“We need her help,” said Jim.

He took the woman’s Glock and handed it back to her, being sure to keep his finger outside of the trigger guard, with the handle facing the woman.

He watched her as she took it back in her hands.

She checked it over, checking to make sure it was still loaded.

“OK,” said Jim. “Now I’m going to drive by them. You’re going to switch places with my wife here, get the window down, and fire at them. You’re going to give us the cover we need to get past. Otherwise, they’ll shoot us as we drive by. You OK with shooting to kill?”

“Jim!” said his wife, her voice high and concerned.

“They were shooting at us, Aly,” said Rob.

Jim raised his hand for them to quiet down. “This is a life or death situation,” he said. He didn’t take his eyes off Jessica. “Are you OK with that?”

She nodded.

“OK, then switch seats. Aly, come on.”

Begrudgingly, Aly undid her seatbelt and started to squish herself up against the front seats, making room for Jessica to slide over.

“I really don’t think this is a good idea, Jim. This isn’t the Wild West. Maybe we should just turn around.”

Jim shook his head. “Ready?” he said, taking one last look at Jessica.

She gave him a nod.

He didn’t bother to hope that they’d make it, that the plan would work. The only thing to do was try it. The only thing to do was to make it work.

“The rest of you, get your heads down,” said Jim, as he pressed his foot against the clutch and got the car into first.

He jammed down on the accelerator and the engine whined.

Up ahead, the pickup was still in place. The man in the checkered shirt glanced back at the driver, and shifted his weight, as if he was unsure what to do.

The Subaru was moving.

Fast.

Jim shifted into second.

Now third.

They were close now.

“Wait until you have a clear shot,” shouted Jim.

The man in the checkered shirt had his gun raised.

Before Jim could even shout, “Now,” Jessica had fired.

Two quick shots. Two bursts of sound that echoed throughout the interior of the Subaru.

The man in the checkered shirt collapsed to the ground before he could get off a shot.

Jim didn’t slow down. He was about to pass the pickup.

Suddenly, the pickup lurched forward, driving directly into the path of the Subaru.

Jim slammed on the brakes.

But it was too late.

He only succeeded in slowing down slightly.

The Subaru slammed into the side of the pickup, jerking to a sudden stop.

Someone cried out in pain.

The engine had stalled.

Jim heard the creek of unoiled hinges as the pickup door opened.

For a second, he caught a glimpse of the pickup’s driver, and then the man was ducking down, out of view behind the pickup. Jim had to assumed he was armed as well.

Jim had to act fast.

“Back me up,” said Jim to Jessica in the back, before throwing open the door of the Subaru, and reaching again for his Ruger.

He heard her door open too, but didn’t glance back at her. He needed his eyes peeled for the driver.

Jim’s mind had a singular focus. He was zeroed in.

This would be a quick fight.

One shot and it was all over.

There was hardly any distance between them. A matter of a few feet.

Jim had his Ruger in both hands. His grip was good. The right technique. He inched forward, listening carefully.

The pickup’s engine was still running.

He was behind the bed of the pickup, about to turn the corner.

He heard nothing. And saw no signs of the driver.

But the man was right there. Waiting. Only a few feet away. Unless he’d gone around the other side.

It’d be a question of technique and reflexes.

Jim had his finger on the trigger. With his thumb, he cocked back the hammer of his Ruger.

Jim wasn’t going to use the sights. He kept his Ruger low. This was going to be a reflex shot to the chest at close range.

He was about to take his first step around the back corner of the truck, when he saw the foot moving.

Jim didn’t let his eyes travel down to the foot. He took a step back and kept his eyes and gun pointed at chest level.

The man appeared there suddenly, moving swiftly, a rifle in his hands.

Jim pulled the trigger. His knees were slightly bent.

One shot rang out.

The man in front of him, mere feet away, gasped as he crumpled to the ground.

The rifle clattered to the pavement.

Jim took a look around before bending down. The Ruger didn’t leave his hand.

There was a growing patch of blood on the man’s chest, staining his dirty shirt.

Jim put his fingers to the man’s neck to feel for a pulse. There was none. He was already dead.

It had been a good shot. Right to the heart, probably.

Jim was surprised at himself. He’d shot two men dead in one day. And they’d been good shots both times.

Surprisingly, he felt nothing. No remorse. Only relief. And satisfaction at his aim.

He’d always figured that if the day came that he had to shoot someone, he wouldn’t be as good of a shot as he was at the range. That was what everyone always said, anyways, that the stress of an intense life or death situation wrecked your aim.

Not so far, though.

He couldn’t get cocky, though.

Jim grabbed the rifle before standing up and moving back over to the Subaru.

“Everyone OK?” he said, remembering the shout of pain he’d heard as they’d crashed.

He glanced in the car. Rob and Aly looked back at him, strange expressions on their faces. Aly looked at him with wide eyes, almost as if she didn’t recognize him.

“You got him?” said Jessica, appearing on the other side of the Subaru. She stood tall and looked confident. She held her Glock in a way that made him think she knew what she was doing.

She looked so different from the terrified, frantic woman that had been pointing her gun at him in terror not so long ago at the police station.

She might yet prove to be a useful member of their little group.

Jim nodded at her.

“Check the truck for supplies,” he said.

Jim’s mind was back in action. Back to planning. Time was still weighing down heavily on them. He glanced down at his watch. Twenty minutes had passed in the blink of an eye.

The damage to the Subaru didn’t look bad. The fender was bashed in on one side, and the headlight and lower fog light were shattered. He didn’t think there’d been enough force in the crash to damage the transmission, but he wanted to check.

“I’m going to make sure it still runs,” he said, “before we load all their gear into our car. Make sure you check the glove compartment.”

Jim hopped back into the Subaru and it started right up. He reversed it, drove a couple feet, and drove forward again.

Everything seemed fine. No strange noises. No grinding sounds. No noticeable resistance.

“I can’t believe you did that, man,” muttered Rob.

“Come on and help me,” said Jim. “Looks like they’ve got some gear in the bed.”

“You’re going to rob them?” said Aly.

“It’s not robbery,” said Jim.

“You killed them and now you’re going to…”

“What would you rather I do? Let them murder us for the car?”

Aly said nothing.

“Now come on and help me.”

Jim threw open the door a little harder than he’d meant to.

He’d gone to so much effort to get to his wife and to keep her safe. And now she was criticizing everything he was doing?

Whatever. He needed to forget it. Aly would catch on soon enough to the seriousness of the situation.

Once what had just happened sunk in, she’d realize.

After all, off in the distance behind them, the burning wreckage of the plane could still be seen. The black clouds of smoke had grown and widened, seeming to take over the entire sky as they reached towards the grey clouds above.

“Some medicine from the glove box,” said Jessica, holding up some small cardboard boxes to show Jim.

“Good, throw it in the Subaru. We’ll go through it all later.”

In the bed of the pickup truck there were some bunched up tarps, some loose dirt, some scattered hand tools, a duffel bag, and a plastic jug of gas.

Jim went for the gas first, and he let out a grunt of disappointment when he lifted it up and felt that it was completely empty.

Should he try to siphon the gas out of the pickup? He could store it in the can for when the Subaru eventually ran out.

No, there wasn’t enough time.

And he didn’t have any sort of tubing. Even if he was able to improvise something, it would take a long time.

Jim grabbed the duffle bag without checking its contents and tossed it to Rob who had finally gotten out of the Subaru. Rob stood there, his legs visibly shaking, his eyes wide with fear.

Jim glanced at his watch.

They had to get moving.

Hopefully there was something that’d be helpful in that duffle bag.

The rifle had been a stroke of luck. He’d been worried about just having a handgun.

“Jessica,” called out Jim. “Can you get the dead guy’s handgun?”

“Already got it,” called out Jessica.

He glanced over at her and once again she looked ready. Poised for anything.

She was the greatest surprise of all. He’d thought she was nothing but a liability, one that he had to take care of out of guilt.

If only his wife and Rob were more like her.

Right now, they and their disbelief were the real liabilities. They were the real threats to their survival.

And, of course, the chaos that was to come.

“Everyone in the car,” shouted Jim.

This rousted Rob from what seemed like a nervous stupor.

But he still didn’t move.

“Rob, come on!”

Jim threw himself into the driver’s seat, started the car, and slammed the door closed.

He was depressing the clutch when Rob finally got into the car, moving slowly and shakily, the duffel bag clutched in both hands.

In the back of the car, Aly was breathing heavily and rapidly. It sounded like she was hyperventilating.

Another one of her panic attacks.

Normally, Jim was always there for her. He’d go to her side and comfort her.

But there wasn’t time for that now.

She’d have to learn to deal with it. She’d have to dig herself out of the hole herself.

Jim put the car into gear and the Subaru lurched back, away from the pickup truck and the two dead bodies.

14

JESSICA

Jessica was feeling better. Her head wasn’t in the clouds like it had been. Maybe it was the adrenaline from shooting, but her head actually felt clear.

She still couldn’t remember what had happened. She had no memory of the accident whatsoever.

But it was getting clearer by the minute that Jim, the man who drove the Subaru, was someone she wanted to stick with.

And it was clear that the situation was dire and extremely serious.

Jessica was practical minded. It wasn’t hard for her to see that society could descend into chaos in short order. Without basic public services, without food or water, people would react. And violently. When it came to that point.

“Are you OK?” said Jessica, putting her arm around Aly, Jim’s wife, who had curled herself up into a little shaking ball.

Now it was Jessica’s turn to do the comforting.

“She’s having a panic attack,” said Jim, from the front seat. “She’ll be OK. Remind her of her techniques.”

“Her techniques?”

“Just do it.”

“I think she already heard you.”

“Maybe not.”

Jessica leaned right up against Aly’s ear and spoke clearly into it. “Your husband says to remember your techniques.”

“She’s supposed to watch her breathing.”

“He says you’re supposed to watch your breathing.”

Sure enough, after a few minutes, Aly started breathing differently. Her breaths turned from shallow and frantic to slow and calm. She looked up at Jessica and smiled. “Thanks,” she said.

“You back with us, Aly?” said Jim.

“More or less.”

Jim was driving fast. The road was clear, for the most part. All the traffic lights were still out, as were all the lights in the stores and houses on the side of the road. They passed one cop standing on the side of the road in uniform. They simply drove right past him as he tried to wave him down.

“He looked like he wanted you to stop,” said Rob.

Jim said nothing.

Jessica’s thoughts turned for a moment to her parents. She’d barely had contact with them since she’d moved out, and she supposed that was going to be the way it stayed.

Now, her mind went to the practical. To survival.

“So what’s the plan?” said Jessica, directing her voice to Jim, who seemed like the only other one who had it together.

“Like I said, get to Aly’s mother’s house. Get her mother and get whatever supplies are there. We’ll split up and comb through the house. We’ve got to go for food, candles, knives, cookware, and any medicine you can find.”

“I got that part,” said Jessica. “But what about after that? Once we get out of the whole Rochester area?”

“That’s the part we don’t have figured out yet. Any ideas?”

“No,” said Jessica. “I’ve barely ever been out of Rochester.”

“We could go to my uncle’s house,” said Aly, speaking up for the first time since her panic attack.

“Your uncle Jordan? The drunk?”

“Yeah. He’s got that lake house on Chautauqua, remember?”

“Of course I remember. We spent that disastrous weekend there a couple years ago. The place was a dump and your uncle spent the entire time either passed out on the floor or actively trying to destroy all his possessions.”

“So what?” said Aly. “There aren’t many houses near it.”

“What about your uncle? He’s not exactly a reliable person we can count on in a situation like this.”

“No one knows where he is.”

“What? You didn’t tell me that.”

“It’s just been a couple weeks. My mom’s been calling him over and over. The last she heard from him he was in Buffalo.”

“Buffalo?”

“Yeah, doing who knows what.”

“Another bender, probably,” said Jim, dismissively.

Jessica noticed that Rob didn’t speak up at all during this exchange between husband and wife, as if he didn’t dare get in the middle of it should it turn into an argument.

Finally, Jessica spoke up herself. “Am I missing something?” she said. “It sounds like we’ve got the place to go. If it’s on the lake, we’ll be able to fish.”

As soon as she spoke, she realized that she hadn’t exactly been invited to go live with them.

But she’d helped them already. She felt like she’d proven herself.

And it wasn’t like she had anywhere else to go.

The way she understood it, remaining in Rochester would be a death sentence.

“Anyone have any better ideas?” said Jim.

No one spoke.

“All right,” said Jim. “We’re heading to drunk Uncle Jordan’s lake house. Let’s just hope he hasn’t burned the house down or sold it or something since we were last there.”

“Jordan’s caused the family a lot of problems,” said Aly, almost as an aside to Jessica.

“It’s about a two hour drive if I remember correctly,” said Jim.

They’d entered a nice neighborhood, where the houses had large manicured lawns.

Jim swerved easily around the stopped cars in the street. It seemed as if some of the cars had been pushed to the side of the road.

There was no one in the street.

“Looks like everyone’s finally gone indoors,” said Jim as they pulled into a driveway in front of what must have been Aly’s mother’s house.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” said Jim, throwing open his door.

Jessica followed behind the three of them. The front door was locked.

“Shit,” said Aly. “My key’s at the police station still, along with the rest of my stuff.”

“Wasn’t there one under the door mat?” said Jim.

“No, she got worried about it and had me move it. It’s around back.”

Aly disappeared around the back of the house.

“I had to shoot a looter,” said Jim. “Don’t be alarmed when you see the body.”

“Already saw it,” said Rob.

“I know you did, Rob. I was speaking to Jessica.”

Jessica just nodded stiffly.

To her own surprise, shooting dead a man not long ago hadn’t had as much of an effect on her as she would have thought. In fact, she felt nothing except relief that they’d gotten out of the situation alive.

And, if she was being honest, she felt proud of herself. Proud of what she’d done. Proud of being useful. Proud of keeping a cool head in a tough situation.

Aly reappeared a moment later with the key. It worked, and Aly swung the door open and rushed inside.

A second later, there was a scream.

“Mom!” screamed Aly.

Jim pushed Rob back roughly and rushed into the house.

Rob followed, and Jessica followed him.

A woman who must have been Aly’s mother lay on the floor. Her eyes were open, and it didn’t appear that she was breathing.

Aly was already on her knees, shaking her mother’s body. Tears poured from her eyes, and her voice was frantic. “Mom, Mom, Mom! Come on!” Now she turned to Jim, and screamed, “Do something!”

Jim was there by Aly’s side, on his knees, his fingers against the woman’s neck. He shook his head.

But he wasn’t giving up.

He motioned for Aly to move out of the way, and he put his hands flat against the woman’s heart and began pumping.

Rob and Jessica exchanged a look.

“Mom! Can’t you do something, Jim? Mouth to mouth. Out of the way.”

Aly tried to push Jim aside to get to her mother’s head. Instead, her feet got tangled together and she lost her balance and collapsed to the floor.

Jim grabbed her and pulled her up again.

“Mouth to mouth isn’t going to do any good,” he said. “I’m sorry, Aly. She’s dead.”

“What? You just saw her.”

Jessica was still standing by the front door, observing, along with Rob.

Aly’s mother body was in the room to the left, and to the right, in another room, there was the blood-stained body of a young man. Must have been the one Jim had shot earlier.

“Come on,” muttered Rob, almost under his breath. “Let’s get to work.”

Jessica didn’t move immediately, and Rob elbowed her slightly and indicated with his head that they should head to the kitchen.

Jessica followed him, registering her surprise. He’d seemed like a big lump of nothing, just some kind of useless dud. But it turned out he had some practical impulses of his own.

Neither one of them said anything about Aly’s mother. There was obviously nothing they could do.

Except prepare. Gather supplies.

“You work on the food,” said Rob, gesturing to the cabinets. “I’ll head to the basement.”

“All right,” said Jessica. “You’ll check for tools, right?”

He nodded.

Jessica threw open the cabinets underneath the sink, expecting to find bleach. But there was nothing there except for some large black trash bags.

“If there’s any bleach down there, grab it.”

“Bleach?”

“For purifying water.”

Rob gave her a stiff nod and disappeared down the basement stairs.

Jessica assumed that Rob would have enough sense to grab anything else he thought was useful.

She didn’t know exactly what they’d need, but she figured she’d do a check of the basement after he was done.

She figured that anything in a bottle, anything from a store whatsoever, might be useful.

Who knew how long it’d be until they could get their hands on more products. If ever.

Without any lights, it was fairly dark in the kitchen. The sky outside was still grey, and not much light came in through the windows.

But it was enough. Enough to see by, and her eyes slowly adjusted to the interior.

From the other room, Aly’s sobs could clearly be heard.

Jim was talking to his wife in a low voice, presumably comforting her. But Jessica couldn’t make out what he was saying.

Jessica concentrated hard at the task at hand.

She took the trash bags from under the sink, shook them out, and began stuffing everything on the shelves into them that she could.

There were boxes of crackers, cookies, and a lot of snack foods in general. She filled one whole bag with those, tied it up, and let it drop to the ground.

Next, she started emptying the freezer and the fridge.

There wasn’t much of anything in the fridge except for a gallon of milk.

The freezer wasn’t what she’d been hoping for. Ideally, it would have been packed full of meat. Lots of protein, plenty of fat, and generally calorie dense.

Instead, the freezer was packed full of frozen dinners from the grocery store. Jessica knew the type. They were marketed towards women who wanted to lose weight, even though they had no real reason to lose any weight whatsoever.

It was a good business practice, in a sense. Sell people less calories for more money. They could charge more because it was a specialty product.

The frozen dinners wouldn’t do them much good. Jessica grabbed one of the boxes almost savagely and flipped it around to check the nutrition label. Five hundred calories in one box. That wasn’t a lot.

But it would be something.

She threw three boxes into the bag, tied it up. She grabbed both bags now, and started making her way back out to the car.

Her body still hurt from the accident. It rebelled against the heavy load of the trash bags.

Her knee didn’t seem to be working quite right, and her shoulder was making a clicking sound.

But she ignored it all.

She ignored the strange hole in her memory, the odd feeling that there was part of her brain she just couldn’t access.

She remembered enough, she figured, to be able to survive. What difference did it make if she couldn’t remember the accident, or exactly what she’d been doing or thinking in that moment?

It simply wasn’t as important as the task at hand.

This wasn’t the time to worry about minor inconveniences like that. There were two people dead in the house, and two more had died not long ago on the road.

This was life or death now.

Jim appeared by the door just as she was opening it up. He nodded approvingly at the trash bags.

“Get everything,” he said. “I’ll help you in a minute.”

“What happened to her?”

“Not sure. Heart attack or stroke most likely. Probably the stress of the situation.”

“I’m sorry, Jim.”

“It was my fault,” said Jim. “I did everything the wrong way. I should have never left her here by herself. I should have taken her with us…”

Jessica stared at his face, which was normally so impassive, so calm. It didn’t show much now either, but she saw something underneath the surface. It looked almost as if he might break.

He needed some words that cut right to the point.

And telling him that he’d done the best he could wasn’t going to be enough.

“She would have died anyway,” said Jessica. “If it was the stress that killed her, she would have died when those guys in the truck attacked us.”

Jim said nothing, just stared at her.

But something in his face was changing.

Aly was still sobbing in the other room, only just slightly out of view.

“I’m taking these out to the car. Rob’s in the basement. Head upstairs and grab what you can.”

“OK,” said Jim, apparently surprised to receive orders from her.

Jessica didn’t bother looking to see if he was heading upstairs or not. She knew what she’d said had worked, and that Jim was practical enough to not fall apart.

They’d do what they had to do. Aly could grieve later, once they were in safety. For now, she obviously wasn’t going to be of any help, and there wasn’t any point in trying to get her to do something physical like gathering supplies.

Using her elbow, Jessica got the door open, and began walking to the car, weighed down heavily by the bags.

“Hey!” yelled out someone.

Someone was coming out of the house next door, waving his hand at Jessica.

Her eyes went right to his hand. She half expected to see some sort of weapon. A gun. A knife. Something.

But he held nothing.

He stepped out onto the small stone stoop, and another person followed him. And another.

And another.

Jessica quickened her pace.

15

JIM

His wife was sobbing downstairs, clutching her mother’s body.

Jim was upstairs, with a plastic bag in hand, busy emptying the bathroom of any sort of medicine.

He’d started to blame himself. He should have taken Judy with them. He shouldn’t have left her there.

And maybe that was true.

Maybe it’d been the wrong thing to do.

He’d been so focused on getting to Aly that it had clouded his judgment.

But that was natural.

The only thing to do now was to go forward. To make the next right decision.

Hanging onto what he couldn’t change would just slow him down.

There were countless bottles and boxes to take. A lot of it was over the counter stuff. Antihistamines, aspirin, ibuprofen, and things like that.

But Judy had also hoarded prescription pill bottles. Many of them were full or half full. She’d had a habit of going to the doctor when the slightest ache, pain or sensation came up. Then, she’d typically take a couple of the pills, decide they weren’t helping, and then leave the bottle in the bathroom, not knowing what to do with it.

Jim ignored the expiration dates on everything. He knew they didn’t always relate to reality. He’d heard from a doctor client once that it was safe to ignore the expiration dates for most of the common drugs, like antibiotics.

For other drugs, it was best to heed the dates. Jim didn’t know which were which, but he figured he’d figure it out later.

The thing now to do was just gather everything that could possibly be useful. There was no telling in what state Aly’s uncle’s lake house was in, or what sort of supplies were there.

Jim took almost everything, leaving only the things that would obviously be of no critical use to them. He left the bottles and bottles of skin lotion. He left the brushes and combs, but he grabbed things like tweezers and small scissors. They could be helpful for treating wounds.

Jim left the bathroom, leaving the door swinging behind him.

In Judy’s bedroom, next to the bathroom, he found the bed tidily made and everything put away.

It was a strange sensation, ransacking the bedroom of his recently deceased mother-in-law, but it was what he had to do.

He threw the dresser drawers open quickly, looking for anything that jumped out at him. He wasn’t expecting to find much, but it made sense to give everything a look.

There was a roll of cash in the sock drawer, which Jim grabbed and stuffed in his pocket without counting it. He doubted it’d be any good, but who knew, maybe someone would accept it in a trade.

The top drawer was filled with jewelry, which Jim grabbed and stuffed into the trash bag without a second thought. Possibly good for a trade somewhere down the line.

Provided they lived that long.

The other rooms were filled mostly with junk. Old furniture and antiques and family pictures that would have no use.

There wasn’t going to space in the car for any of that stuff.

But, on second thought, Jim dashed into one of the spare bedrooms where he knew a photo album was. Aly might appreciate having it. He stuffed it into the bag along with everything else.

Jim’s boots were loud as he rushed down the stairs.

Rob was rushing towards the door, loaded down with trash bags.

The front door swung open before Rob could get to it.

It was Jessica, her gun in her hand.

“There’s a bunch of people outside,” she said. “And they’re angry.”

“About what?” said Rob.

The reason didn’t matter to Jim. He didn’t bother to wait for her answer. It’d be something, and there was no reasoning with a mob.

“How many?” he said.

“About a dozen now,” she said, answering his question instead of Rob’s. “They were in the neighbor’s house.”

“Armed?”

She shook her head. “Not sure, but I don’t think so.”

“Nobody owns guns around here,” said Rob. “This is a fancy neighborhood.”

“You can’t be sure,” said Jim.

Aly’s sobs filled the air as their conversation fell silent for just a brief moment.

“We’re going to have to get out of here quick,” said Jim. “How much more is there to get?”

“I wanted you to take a look at the basement, and…”

“You got most of it already?”

“I need one more trip to the kitchen,” said Jessica.

“Go. Now. I’ll get Aly. Then we’re out of here. Rob, help her.”

They dashed off.

In the other room, Aly was now curled up in the fetal position next to her mother.

Jim crouched down next to her and put a hand on her shoulder.

She continued sobbing.

“Aly,” he said, using the gentlest voice he could muster in the situation. “I know this is hard. But there was nothing we could have done.”

Aly just sobbed.

There was a loud knock on the front door, which Jessica had shut and locked behind her.

Another loud knock.

“We’ve got to get out of here, Aly. We’ve got to go now.”

She turned towards him. Her face was streaked with tears. The little makeup she wore was running. Her mouth was puckered up in a sob and her nose was running.

“How can you say that?” she said. “My mother just died!” Her words became nothing but a wail.

“There’s a crowd out there and they want something. They thought we were criminals before, and I’m sure it’s worse now. If we don’t leave now, we’re never going to get out of here. Come on.”

Jim grabbed her gently by her arms and tried to coax her to her feet.

But she pulled back away from him and threw herself down onto the hard floor.

“We’ve got to go, Aly.”

Another knock at the door. Louder, this time.

“Hey! We know you’re in there!” shouted someone.

“Aly,” said Jim. “Get up.”

She turned and looked at him, an expression of immense hurt on her face.

Suddenly, the window looking out to the front yard shattered. Someone had broken it.

Jim stood up in a flash, pulling Aly to her feet as well. “Get back,” he said to her.

Jim reached for his Ruger, strode rapidly to the front door, and threw it open.

A dozen angry faces greeted him. Some he recognized. Some he didn’t. Some were neighbors that he’d seen here and there when visiting Judy.

Some were just faces that he’d seen in passing while driving on that same street. It was strange to see them now, fury and vengeance written across them just like words.

Jim leveled the revolver. Pointed right at the chest of the nearest man.

Those in the back of the crowd scattered.

But four in the front stood their ground.

“What’s this about?” said Jim, his voice cold and gravely.

“You’re a killer.” The man’s voice shook a little as he spoke, as he eyed the revolver. But he stood his ground. In another time, Jim might have been impressed.

“And where are the police?”

The men glanced at each other.

“I guess you couldn’t call them?” said Jim.

No answer.

“What I suggest,” said Jim. “Is that you all go back to your homes, if that’s where you plan to stay. If you’re smart, you’ll get out of Pittsford. It’s not going to be safe here.”

“Not with people like you!” came a voice from around the side of the house, where Jim couldn’t see. Probably whoever had shattered the window.

“I’m not going to explain myself,” said Jim. “The dead man got what he deserved. Some of you know me, and if you’re convinced I’m a murderer, then that’s on you. Either way, I’d get away from this house before I need to take action.”

Jim stared into the eyes of the man nearest him. He didn’t blink.

The man turned, muttered something, and the group slowly dispersed.

Jim slammed the door closed. Hard.

Turning, he saw that Rob and Jessica were standing right behind him. Jessica had her Glock drawn. Rob was holding a large kitchen knife.

“We’re leaving now,” said Jim. “I don’t want to be here if they change their minds.”

“What about the basement?” said Rob.

Jim just shook his head.

“And Aly?” said Rob.

“Get in the car,” said Jim. “I’ll bring her.”

Aly was still with her mother.

“Aly,” said Jim. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

She wasn’t crying as hard now. “I know,” she said. “But we can’t just… leave her here like this.”

“I’m sorry,” said Jim. “But there’s no other way. Who knows how close we are to more violence. We’ve got to leave. She’d want you to be safe.”

“Can’t we take her with us? And bury her out by the lake? She always liked it out there, before Jordan started drinking.”

Jim shook his head. “I wish we could. We don’t have room. Come on. Give me your hand.”

Finally, she took his hand, and he led her out the front door, taking one final look at her mother’s body.

Jim didn’t look back.

The Subaru was already packed. It looked impossibly full. And on the roof, along with the bicycle, the duffle bag was strapped to the roof rack.

Jessica helped Aly squish into the backseat next to all the gear. Rob was in the passenger’s seat.

The Subaru was sinking down on its suspension under all the weight.

The crowd had dispersed, but a few were standing on their front steps, glaring menacingly in the Subaru’s direction.

One of them cupped their hands together and shouted something in Jim’s direction, but he couldn’t make out what it was.

Far down the street, Jim spotted something.

He couldn’t make out what it was.

But it was moving.

And getting closer.

It wasn’t a vehicle.

It was larger than a person.

“Everyone set?” said Jim, throwing himself into the driver’s seat, depressing the clutch, and cranking the engine.

He didn’t wait for them to respond before he had it in reverse and the engine was whining as he sped out of the driveway.

Jim sprung the wheel, swinging the car around.

In the rearview mirror, the moving thing was close enough that Jim could make it out.

It was a horse.

And a cop.

A mounted police officer.

“Looks like they got ahold of the police somehow,” said Jim, throwing the Subaru into first.

As far as he knew, only the Rochester city police had mounted cops. There’d likely be plenty to deal with within the city limits. Very soon, if not already. It was too bad they were wasting their energy sending a cop over here to Pittsford.

Who knew what the communication system looked like. Maybe they’d gotten hold of some radios that worked.

Who knew.

Jim wasn’t going to wait around to find out.

Aly’s sobs filled the car as Jim sped down the road. The engine was pulling a little harder than normal with all the extra weight. The interior was packed full of trash bags that stuck out at awkward angles, since they were packed full of all manner of household things.

Jim hoped that Rob and Jessica, who’d done the majority of the packing, had had the sense to gather things that really would be useful.

They’d be OK once they got to the lake house, as long as they had food.

At least that was what he was telling himself.

They’d wait it out for a month or so. Until things calmed down. Doing some quick mental calculations, he figured they might have food in the car for four people for a month. Light rations, of course. Difficult, but entirely doable. Especially with fish from the lake.

16

ALY

Aly sat in the back of the crowded Subaru, completely wracked with guilt. Guilt like she’d never felt before, guilt that she hoped, somewhere deep down inside of herself, that she’d never feel again. Ever.

She’d stopped sobbing. Her throat felt dry and almost as if she was choking, as if it was partially constricted. Her face felt flushed and tingly, and her hands felt like claws, as if she couldn’t properly move her fingers. She’d felt those effects before, during an especially bad anxiety attack in which she’d hyperventilated. There was some physiology term for what had happened, but she couldn’t remember what it was.

Her mind was nothing but a fog. There were still tears in her eyes, and her heart was pounding.

How could she do this? How could they do this? Leaving her mother like that, lying on the floor in her own home. What would happen to her body? Would it just rot? Would someone open the house again in a few weeks to be met by a horrendous stench? The bugs would swarm and start to devour the corpse.

Her death was a shock, but it really shouldn’t have been. She took heart medication, and had taken it for years. Maybe she’d forgotten it that morning, given what had happened. Or maybe the disease had finally progressed to the point that the medication wasn’t any good.

Aly couldn’t focus on the conversation in the car. Jim, Jessica, and Rob were talking about possible routes to the cabin.

It was good Jim knew how to get there, because Aly felt as if she wouldn’t have been able to talk coherently. If she’d been the only one who knew the way, she doubted she’d have been able to get them all there.

“But the highway’s faster,” Rob was saying. “And look, we don’t have that much gas. And from what you’re saying, it doesn’t sound like the gas pumps are going to work.”

“Can’t we siphon gas from them?” said Jessica. “The gas is still there after all. It’s just that the pumps don’t work.”

“I don’t know how we’d get at the gas,” said Jim. “It’s in underground tanks. It’s not like we can just stick a tube in there and start sucking away. Plus, the tanks are below ground. It’s not like the gas is going to just magically flow up into our own tank.”

“Gravity,” muttered Rob. “Damn gravity.”

“I’m doing the best I can with the gas,” said Jim. “We’ll get better gas mileage at about 50 MPH. I think we can get there on what’s left in the tank, even if we take the back way.”

“You really think the highway’s going to be packed full of cars?”

“Think about it,” said Jim. “Everyone who was driving on the highway, well, they’ll still be there, for the most part. And people who’ve figured out something is wrong, they’ll be on the highway, too. The ones with working cars, that is. It’ll be a mess.”

“Can’t we just drive by and check it out?” said Rob.

“You mean go through the on ramp and then get stuck there, with no way out for miles until the next exit?”

Rob didn’t answer.

Aly found herself slipping back into her memories. Her eyes felt impossibly heavy, and they closed slowly. She drifted off into something resembling sleep. But she was still awake.

It’d happened to her before, towards the end of an anxiety attack. Her body had been so exhausted by the hyperventilation, the intensity of the thoughts, that she’d closed her eyes and sunk into a trance-like state.

Memories of her mother flashed before her eyes. Memories from when Aly’d been a little kid. They hadn’t grown up in Pittsford. In fact, she’d grown up in one of the roughest, poorest neighborhoods of Rochester.

When Aly’d been a kid was around the time that Rochester had gone through its most severe economic crisis. The big tech companies in the area, which had supported the economy for so long, had started their huge layoffs. Suddenly, huge swaths of the local, loyal workforce were sitting around with nothing to do, with no hope and no prospects.

Aly’s parents had been hit as hard as anyone. Her father hadn’t been the type to just sit around and do nothing. He’d had his pride, but it hadn’t kept him from getting the first job he could find, which was bagging groceries. He’d said it was a fine job, that there was nothing wrong with it. And that was true, but when Aly’d gotten older she’d realized how hard it had been for him to make the transition from engineer to grocery bagger.

Her mother had gone back to school, gotten her teaching certification, and become a kindergarten teacher.

It was only when Aly’s grandparents had died and her parents had inherited quite a bit of money that they’d moved to Pittsford.

Her father had kept bagging groceries, saying that he needed something to keep busy, until he’d died.

With the memories flooding through her, Aly was only vaguely aware of something going on in the car around her. Fragments of conversation reached her, and she recognized her husband’s voice, but she didn’t really register on the meaning of the words. They were just that, words.

At some point, Aly drifted off to an exhausted sleep. It was her body trying to protect her, trying its best to protect her from the horror of what had happened, of what was happening.

Strange dreams filled her head. A man without eyes was walking near her on the road, speaking to her in a strange, robotic voice, saying “I wear this veil because I know I must protect you.”

Then the man vanished, and her dreams shifted to the city. To Rochester. Aly was walking down the normally deserted street near the bar she used to go to when she was younger.

In her dream, the normally empty street was now full of people. And they were chanting and screaming. There was an excitement in the area, but it was a terrifying kind of excitement. It was anger, intense and amplified by the huge crowd of people. There was something that they wanted, and they were going to do anything they could for the chance to have it again. Their demands weren’t clear, but their intensity was. And Aly knew intuitively, in that dreamlike way, that the crowd would destroy anything just to get a glimpse of what they wanted.

And what did they want? She thought it might be the life that had been taken from them, the life of apparent comfort and ease, the life where bad thing only happened to people on television and in the newspapers, where safety reigned and life and death were subjects for books and movies.

In her dream, Aly was fleeing the crowd. On foot. Barefoot, for some reason. She ran down the street, away from the crowd, away from the towering empty skyscrapers. Her bare feet slapped against the pavement and soon her feet were bleeding. When she turned behind her to look, there was a trail of the blood that had flowed from her feet.

Somehow, she’d run so far that the crowd was nothing but a pinprick off in the distance. She wasn’t tired in her dream, and she wasn’t in pain, despite her bleeding feet. But when she turned around to look, she could see the skyscrapers as clear as a day.

And they were burning. Billows of blackened smoke surged upwards and around the buildings. Intense orange flames lapped at the sky as the buildings were engulfed in fire.

“Aly,” came Jim’s voice. “Aly, wake up.”

His hands were on her, shaking her awake.

“What?” said Aly, waking up suddenly. “What’s going on?”

Adrenaline pumped through her.

Her heart was beating fast. Pounding.

Her eyes were wide, as she looked around frantically.

She was looking for the threat.

Her body was in survival mode.

And they all were.

The reality of the situation had finally hit home for Aly. It might have happened before, but this time it was for real.

17

JIM

“Aly, it’s OK,” said Jim. “It’s OK.” He was holding onto her, trying to be gentle. He spoke in a gentle voice. “Everything’s OK.”

Of course, everything wasn’t OK. Society was likely breaking down around them. Or it was about to.

But, for the moment, things were OK for their little group.

“We’re at the lake house,” said Rob.

“We made it?” said Aly. “Did I fall asleep?”

“Yeah,” said Jim. “We thought it was the best thing for you, considering what you’ve been through.”

It looked like Aly was fighting back tears, but she didn’t start to cry.

And Jim was glad. Because there was a lot to do.

“But how did we make it?”

“We got lucky,” said Jim. “There wasn’t much happening on the back roads. A few stationary cars. A few people, like us, heading out of town, with their cars loaded down. A few, but not many. Most people don’t seem to realize what’s happening.”

They’d gotten to the lake house, but that didn’t mean they were completely safe yet. There was work to be done. Supplies to be unpacked. Preparations to be made. They needed to work on securing the lake house against any potential attacks.

It would be their fortress, partially removed from the world. But not quite removed enough.

There’d be struggles in their future, and instead of just waiting until the threats found them, they’d do all they could in the meantime to prepare.

“You OK, Aly?” said Jim.

Her eyes were wide, but she looked right at him and she nodded.

“Good. Now you wouldn’t know where your uncle keeps a spare key, would you?”

“Did you already knock?”

“Yeah. He’s not here.”

Aly breathed a sigh of relief.

“My thoughts exactly,” said Jim. “I was remembering that time he got drunk and…”

Aly waved a hand at him. “No need to continue the story,” she said.

“But that’s how they all start. You don’t know which story I was going to tell.”

“Exactly,” said Aly. “They all start the same, and they all end the same, too. He screwed something up. Badly. I hope he’s OK wherever he is, but I’m glad he’s not here. There’s a key hidden in a tree.”

“A tree?”

“Yeah, I’ll go get it. You remember Jordan. He’s anything but conventional.”

“You need me to come with you?”

Aly shook her head. “I’ll be right back.”

Jim nodded, grabbed a plastic trash bag full of gear, and started hauling it towards the front door.

Aly’s Uncle Jordan’s house was nothing fancy. It was a single story home. Small, just two bedrooms, a small kitchen, and a living room.

It had once been a quaint vacation home, but its appearance and function had changed dramatically ever since Jordan had moved in. He’d winterized it, since he lived in it year round in the freezing lake-effect winters of the north.

But aside from installing plenty of insulation, new windows, and everything else, Jordan hadn’t done a lick of work on the house in years.

In fact, he’d let the house really start to decay. When Jim and Aly had last visited, the roof had leaked in three separate places. It would have been a simple fix to replace a couple shingles. Jim had actually offered to do it, but for one reason or another, Jordan had refused, using his drunken logic to justify his nonsensical position. There wasn’t any use arguing with him. He’d just keep going and going, exhausting you with words without meaning.

The house needed new siding and plenty of other repairs.

None of that really mattered now.

Jim was happy they had somewhere to stay. Somewhere that was hopefully far away from the madness that surely would engulf Rochester and the surrounding metropolitan areas.

Pine trees surrounded the house in all directions. That was good. They’d provide some cover and camouflage during the winter months.

A narrow path through the trees led to the lake, which was only about fifty feet away.

On the other side of the gravel driveway, there was a large shed. Its roof had partially collapsed, and Jim didn’t know what was inside. Maybe an alcohol still, for all he knew.

“Got it,” said Aly, rushing back to the Subaru in the driveway, holding the key triumphantly.

Jim took it from her. “I’d better go in first,” he said. “Just in case.”

Most of the gear, in trash bags, had been deposited by the squalid front door with chipped and peeling paint.

Jessica, Rob, and Aly stood behind Jim as he put the key into the lock.

He opened the door slowly, Ruger in hand, just in case.

Jim nodded his head at them, indicating to follow him. Jessica had her gun out, and Rob held the handgun that they’d taken from the men in the truck, although Jim was sure that Rob didn’t have the slightest idea how to use it.

He supposed it was better than nothing. Possibly. Either that, or a liability.

The interior of the house was dark, and there was a stale smell that hung in the air.

But there was no one inside.

Together, they checked all the rooms, including the mud room, which Jim had forgotten about.

“This place is filthy,” said Rob.

“It’ll work,” said Jim. “We’ll have plenty of time to clean it up.”

Rob was right. There were empty bottles of alcohol everywhere, mostly big bottles of vodka, which Jordan must have switched to sometime in the last few years.

There were also cans of beer, and plenty of empty wrappers of fast food.

“It’s a good thing we brought the food we did,” said Jessica, opening up some of the cabinets. “There’s hardly anything in here.”

“Looks like he was eating most of his meals out,” said Jim, thinking of the fast food wrappers. “Come on. Let’s bring everything inside.”

Jessica and Rob disappeared out the front door, and Aly hung back for a moment with Jim, tugging on his arm in a sweet, intimate kind of way. She hadn’t done anything like that in a long time, and Jim suddenly felt the pain again of the separation.

“What happens if my uncle comes back?” she said. “Don’t you think he will?”

“You don’t think he’ll want us here?”

“I don’t know. It’s hard to say with him.”

“Well,” said Jim. “If everything collapses, he wouldn’t survive here on his own. We’re bringing the food. He’ll just have to consider it a trade. Services and food for shelter. It is his house, after all, and we can’t kick him out if he shows up. But something tells me he won’t.”

“You think something will happen to him?” She spoke in a soft, worried voice.

Jim just looked at her and didn’t answer. He didn’t know what to say.

Aly said something else, but Jim wasn’t listening. Her words ran over him like water. He was lost in thought for a moment.

“Listen,” said Jim. “I’m sorry about your mom. But there’s going to be plenty of time to process it. We need to get to work now. And we need all hands on deck. You think you’re going to be able to help?”

“Yeah,” said Aly, simply, adding nothing more.

“I know we’ve had our issues over the last few weeks,” said Jim. “But this is way more important than any of that. So we’re going to have to get along. We can’t let our arguments put our lives in danger. Agreed?”

Aly nodded.

The front door swung open and Rob appeared, carrying the duffel bag and one of the loaded down trash bags.

“Coming through,” he said. “A lot of food here. Open up the freezer, would you, Jim?”

“Not sure it’s going to do much good,” said Jim, looking down to see that the refrigerator had been unplugged. “Looks like Uncle Jordan was planning on being away for a while. I bet he emptied it all.”

Sure enough, the fridge and freezer were empty.

“We’ll just plug it back in,” said Rob. “What’s the problem? And hurry up, this shit is heavy.”

It only took a moment before Rob realized just how dumb what he’d said was.

“Oh yeah,” he muttered, his face flushing still visible in the low light. “Well then, what are we going to do with all this food?”

“Keep it here for now,” said Jim. “It’s a little cooler than outside. We’ll think of something. We’ll probably have to start eating the perishables first, saving everything else for later.”

“What about the lake?” said Aly.

“The lake?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty cold. Couldn’t we use the temperature somehow to keep the food cool?”

“I don’t know,” said Jim. “You mean submerging the food in water somehow?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“I don’t know,” said Jim. “We’d have to have a waterproof container.”

“Like a trash bag?”

“Yeah, but… I don’t know. Let’s think about it. It seems risky to me. We’re going to be pretty low on food as it is. I don’t know if we can risk it. What we’ll do is spread it all out and count everything up and make an estimate on how long it would take us to eat what. The frozen stuff will last a little longer than what was in the fridge.”

Jim headed back out to the Subaru. With everyone else, he made a couple more runs into the house, dropping gear in the little clear space there was on the living room floor. “We’re going to have to clear away these bottles if we want to get organized,” he said, to no one in particular.

But it didn’t matter. He was already the de facto leader.

He knew the most, in some ways.

But he didn’t know everything.

He didn’t know what would happen. He didn’t know what the future held.

In the best case scenario, society wouldn’t erupt into complete and violent chaos.

But he wasn’t holding out a lot of hope.

He knew that the power grid and communication networks weren’t going to come back online anytime soon. It would take a Herculean effort to do so. And plenty of time.

And that was time that society didn’t have.

When the Subaru was fully unloaded, they all stood for a moment in the living room, looking at the intense mess.

“All right,” said Jim. “Aly and Rob, you two clear away those bottles. Jessica, you start sorting out the gear.”

“Sounds like a lot of work,” said Rob, pushing some bottles off of an armchair and settling down into it. The bottles clattered to the floor, one of them shattering. Rob put his feet up on a nearby stool, sending another bottle rolling to the floor. “I thought we were all set once we got here.”

Jessica sighed.

That was good.

At least she understood.

“Get this in your heads right now, all of you. The worst is yet to come.”

“Come on,” said Rob. “You’re just being dramatic.”

“Dramatic? Didn’t you see us fighting for our lives?”

“Yeah,” said Rob. “I did, and that was terrifying. But we lived through it. And now we’re out of the city, just where you said we had to get. Now we’re safe and we just wait it out.”

“Get this through your head right now,” said Jim. “The entire population of the Rochester area isn’t just going to suddenly keel over and die. They’re going to fight each other for food, water, and medical supplies. That’s assuming the systems don’t come back on, and I don’t think they will…”

“And then they’re going to leave the city,” said Aly, cutting Jim off and finishing his thought for him.

“Exactly,” said Jim, glad that his wife was getting it. “It’s not like all the cars don’t work. And, plus, people can walk and ride bikes. Even horses, like the cop we saw. We’re a little far back from the road and lake, but we’re not invisible. We’re going to have visitors, violent ones. It’s just a matter of how long it takes them to get here, and how many of them there are.”

“So what do we do?” said Rob, fear coming into his voice. Despite his huge frame, he could be like a little kid inside sometimes. “We’re screwed then, right? We’ve already got to worry about having to eat, and now we’ve got to worry about attacks or something?”

“We prepare,” said Jim. “It’s that simple. Now get to work.”

“And what are you going to do?” said Aly.

“I’m going for a walk,” said Jim.

“A walk?” said Rob, almost spitting out his words. “What about all this preparing? You really think this is a good time to take a little stroll?”

“I’m not just going for a walk,” said Jim. “I’m going to scout out the surroundings. We’d be foolish to bunker down in here without knowing what’s immediately around us. Aly, do you remember who any of the neighbors are? Or if they’re vacation homes or full-timers?”

“Uh, I don’t know. I think most of the houses are part-timers. Or they’re rented out. The only full-timers other than my uncle are the Carpenters.”

“The Carpenters?”

“It’s their last name. Two or three kids, I think. They’re kind of a weird family. Tight knit and secretive. I don’t really remember them well. But I think they got in a fight with my uncle once.”

Jim nodded, and turned to head towards the door.

“Jim,” said Aly.

“Yeah?”

“Be careful.”

Jim nodded.

“If I’m not back,” he said. “Don’t come looking for me. And Jessica, as of now you’re the only one who knows how to shoot. So you’re in charge of safety while I’m gone.”

She gave him a nod.

“You two will have to learn soon enough,” he added, before heading out the door, patting his Ruger in its holster just to make sure it was there. He hoped he wouldn’t need it.

18

JESSICA

It was strange, after so much confusion, activity, and violence, to be sitting fairly calmly in a living room.

It was almost as if, in a way, nothing had happened. That was mainly because there was no way to know what was happening in the city.

Obviously, the TV and radio didn’t work. And neither did any of their cell phones.

“It feels like we’ve gone back in time,” said Aly, making a passing remark. “Before there was internet and TV.”

“Don’t forget electricity and all that,” said Rob. “We’re going to live like the Amish.”

“With one key difference,” said Jessica.

“What’s that?”

“We’ve got guns.”

“The Amish have guns,” said Aly.

“They do?”

“Yeah. Hunting rifles, I think.”

“Huh,” said Jessica. “Didn’t know that.”

The time passed fairly slowly. It wasn’t particularly exciting work, but that in of itself was a nice change. Jessica would definitely have rather been sitting on the floor here than battling for her life out on the highway.

The three of them had already made fast work of the bottles. Aly had gotten a broom and simply started sweeping them away. Many of them were broken, and the floor smelled like dried alcohol.

“I guess he drinks a lot?” said Rob, apparently trying to make a joke.

Aly didn’t even respond to that.

The sky outside remained cloudy, and now that it was later in the afternoon, not much light filtered in through the windows at all. But it was enough to see by, and to arrange their gear and supplies by type.

They’d gotten a good haul from Aly’s mother’s house in Pittsford. When they had it all laid out on the floor, and sorted into rough piles, it was easier to see what was there.

Rob had gotten a lot of tools from the basement. There were the typical things, like screwdrivers and wrenches, and Jessica wasn’t sure how much good they would really do them. But at the very least, they could serve as improvised weapons.

There was the food from the kitchen. About enough for a month or so, if they didn’t eat very much. Roughly fifteen hundred calories a day, more or less. They wouldn’t maintain their weight on that much food, but they wouldn’t starve either, or waste away.

There was plenty of medicine, but Jessica noticed that there weren’t any antibiotics.

“My mother didn’t believe in them,” remarked Aly. “She thought you’d get resistant to them and they’d stop working.”

“But if you never take them, what’s the difference?” said Rob.

“I’m pretty sure antibiotic resistance happens across populations,” said Jessica. “Then again, I’m not sure. And I’m not a doctor. I wish we had some, though. If we get injured, we’re going to have to be very careful about infections.”

“Speaking of which,” said Aly. “What about those cuts on your leg?”

“They’re nothing,” said Jessica, brushing off the comment.

“Even so, I think I should check them out later. Get them cleaned up.”

“All right.”

For the most part, Aly was a little quieter than Jessica and Rob. And they weren’t talking that much, either. So it was like a strange silent little party, where they examined what materials and food they had to survive with.

Among the gear, there were a couple cheap plastic flashlights, the kind that are sold at the grocery store. To everyone’s surprise, they worked.

“I thought all electronics were knocked out?”

“Me too.”

“I guess not the flashlights.”

“Yeah, I remember Rob’s worked.”

“Huh.”

Jessica saw Rob taking out his cell phone, to see if it still worked.

Of course, it didn’t.

“It’s weird not being able to look this stuff up on the internet.”

There were mumbles of agreement.

Among the piles of gear, there was also duct tape, plumbers tape, bottles of detergent, bottles of soap, bars of soap, bleach, a couple drops of which could be used for purifying water, saws, axes, kitchen knives and utensils, an array of vitamins, a couple industrial dyes in small bottles, and a collection of glass jars.

And there was plenty more than that. Categorizing it all would take even more time. And Jessica wasn’t sure how much good most of it would do them.

There wasn’t much in the way of useful stuff in the lake house. Aly’s Uncle Jordan definitely hadn’t been someone who thought about preparing for disasters. By the looks of it, he hadn’t even thought about the following day, or the following hours. It didn’t seem that he’d even bothered taking out the trash most of the time.

No matter how many trips they took outside, loaded down with trash, there was still more trash in the house. And it smelled like trash, too. Jessica hadn’t noticed it when they’d first entered. Maybe she’d been preoccupied. But now after spending a few hours in the house, it seemed to be intensifying.

An hour or so went by, and the three of them went to work on the rest of the house. There was too much mess to really make headway that day, though they did uncover, under mounds of old clothes and trash, three perfectly functional beds. Plenty of room for them to sleep on.

The light was getting lower in the sky, and Jim still hadn’t come back.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do if I lose him too,” muttered Aly, more to herself than anyone else.

Jessica didn’t know what to say, but she gave her an awkward kind of pat on the back, before pointing out some more old clothes that could be moved from part of the room.

There weren’t any functional clocks, but it was probably about six or seven when Jim finally got back.

He was sweating from his brow, despite the relatively cool temperature.

“You OK?” said Aly, rushing to his side.

Jim nodded. “I’m fine,” he said, shutting the door behind him. He threw the deadbolt, and locked the knob.

He had his pistol in his hand, and he didn’t put it away.

Jessica noticed that his finger was outside the trigger guard. Good gun safety technique. She practiced it herself.

“What happened?”

“Had a little run in with the neighbors,” said Jim, moving over to one of the windows and peering out it.

With his hand, he motioned for everyone else to get back away from the window and the door.

“Is everything OK? What happened?” Aly’s voice was getting frantic.

Jessica reached for her own gun, and when she glanced over at Rob, he had his out too. But he was holding it all wrong. She’d have to show him the proper technique later on.

“Probably everything’s fine,” said Jim, speaking in a low voice, still staring out the window. “But let’s just say that our neighbors…”

“The Carpenters?”

“Yeah, the Carpenters. They aren’t exactly too friendly. They pointed a gun at me,” said Jim. “And told me to get the hell away from their house. Unlike a lot of people, they seemed to have a clue of what’s going on.”

“Did you get any more information from them?” said Jessica. “Like how many are there?”

“I just saw the father and the mother. But I got the sense there were more in the house.”

“They definitely have some kids,” said Aly.

“And more people staying with them, for all we know,” said Jim.

“So why are you so worried? Did they start to follow you back or something?” said Jessica.

“Not quite,” said Jim. “I made it look like I was leaving, but I ducked behind a tree when I saw still in earshot. To them, it looked like I’d just rounded the corner of their driveway around a pine tree. I could still hear some of what they were saying.”

“And that was?” said Rob.

“They were talking about taking our food from us,” said Jim. “By force.”

The little group fell silent.

Jessica’s mind started racing, running through the possibilities. Would they have to defend the little house?

She looked around at the windows, which could easily be broken. And there was only one door. A flimsy one at that. And no basement. Or attic. It wasn’t the spot she’d chosen if she’d known she might be fighting for her life.

Well, fighting for her food. But food would soon become life. It was all the same.

“Wait,” said Rob. “What do they know about us? You told them who you were?”

“I felt like I had to,” said Jim. “I didn’t tell them who was here. Just said it was me and Aly, visiting her uncle. But they must have known we were fleeing the city.”

“That was dumb,” said Rob.

“Dumb?”

“Yeah. So they think it’s just the two of you? Rather than the four of us? They’re going to think that their odds of coming in here and taking our food are much better than they are.”

“Maybe that’s good,” said Jessica. “They don’t have all the information. And that means we have the element of surprise.”

“If they’re going to come for food,” said Jim, “they’d do it no matter how many of us there are. Starvation makes people desperate. So far, all we know is that they’re armed and potentially desperate. Or will be in a few days. Now go check the other windows.”

Jessica, Rob, and Aly fanned out through the interior of the little house, each moving to a different window, while Rob stayed by the front door. He didn’t take his eye off of it, or his hand off his revolver.

19

ALY

They watched the windows for hours, until night fell and they couldn’t see anything. Even so, Jim stayed by the door, and once or twice went out to walk around the perimeter of the house, looking for any sign of the Carpenters. Or anyone else.

But the Carpenters didn’t show up. Maybe they’d decided it was too risky. Maybe they’d decided it wasn’t ethical. Who knew. It wasn’t like Aly knew the family at all or what they were like. She’d heard her uncle bad mouth them more than a few times, but he did that to practically everyone. So it didn’t mean much.

It was even possible that Jim had misunderstood or misheard them. He had been, after all, hiding behind a tree, fairly far away from them.

It had been an exhausting day. More tiring than any day she could remember. And more emotionally draining, as well. Somehow, she’d managed to push the thoughts of her mother’s very recent death to the back of her mind and soldier on with the tasks that needed to be done.

But when the night came and she was lying alone in bed in an unfamiliar room, the memories of earlier that day came flooding back to her.

Jim was staying up, doing the first watch. He was supposed to wake up Rob somewhere around 3:00 AM, and she hoped he did, rather than try to do the whole shift himself. That was one of the things they’d argued about, Jim trying to do everything himself and taking on too much.

Rob was asleep on the couch in the living room, and Aly slept next door.

Aly had taken the room with the double bed, which had been her uncle’s. The bed smelled faintly of urine and alcohol, and there weren’t even any sheets on it. Although it wasn’t like she cared.

It took her hours to fall asleep. Her mind was filled not just with thoughts of her mother, but of everyone else she knew. What would happen to them all? Would they starve? Would they die violent deaths?

Or would everything just somehow work itself out?

She didn’t think so.

But she could hope.

Although she knew somewhere deep down that it was safer not to hope. It was safer just to keep going.

Finally, she fell asleep.

She woke early the next morning, with Jim sleeping next to her in bed. It was the first time in weeks they’d slept in the same bed. Even before the separation, Jim had spent plenty of nights downstairs on the couch rather than in bed with her.

The day was a strange one. Rob and Jim were both exhausted from staying up for their watch, and they took shifts taking brief naps.

The neighbors didn’t show up that day, nor did anyone else. There was no sign at all of the outside world. No sound of passing vehicles. No voices anywhere. The battery powered radio continued to not work. Nor did their cell phones.

Everyone in the house was anxious. The atmosphere was tense. It felt as if any moment something might happen, as if someone might show up with a gun, demanding their food.

And that was what made doing the housework so strange. Because in a way, it was almost as if they’d moved into an old house with some roommates, and had to clean it up to make it habitable.

Of course, in that situation, they wouldn’t have been fearing for their lives. Or for humanity at large, wondering what the future held for society.

There was plenty to do, and they all more or less wordlessly agreed that the best thing to do was keep busy.

Aly kept watch for the first part of their second night there, then Jessica relieved her.

The second day was more of the same. Cleaning the house. Organizing the supplies. Eating a little. Chatting, but not much.

The house had city water, which wasn’t working. There was only the little that was left in the pipes.

Since the lake wasn’t far away, they’d never be short on water. Jim mentioned that they could disinfect it with a few drops of bleach. But of course that wasn’t ideal, since bleach itself is toxic if you drink enough of it.

So they boiled the water. The lake water was likely clean enough on its own that they could have drunk it as it was, but they didn’t want to risk it.

Fortunately, the house’s stove still worked. It was gas, but there wasn’t a city gas line, so it was set up the old fashioned way, with a large tank of gas outside the house, with a line running into the kitchen.

The second day bled into the third, and the days started to run together.

It was more monotony than anything else. There was no sign from the outside world. Once or twice, a car drove by. They could hear the tires on the gravel road down the driveway, and they waited in tense silence until the vehicle had passed. But nothing happened.

And it seemed like nothing ever would.

Aly wished there’d be something. Some sign. Something to tell them what was happening.

Maybe they were doing this all for nothing. Maybe Rochester and Pittsford were fine. Maybe the power was out, but things hadn’t collapsed into chaos like Jim had predicted. Maybe they’d feel like fools in a couple weeks when they left the house and everything was more or less the way it had been. Only Aly would have lost her job. And Jim would have suffered losses with his computer shop.

Aly continued to try not to think about her mother. The photo album that Jim had brought along didn’t help much with that goal. But it did offer her some comfort and she found herself flipping through the album at odd moments through the day before getting back to work.

Unfortunately for everyone, there wasn’t enough work to last the entire week.

By the end of seven days, the house looked completely different. As if it had never been cleaner.

Every surface was dusted and polished. Every single bottle and piece of trash had been taken outside to the shed in the same trash bags that they’d brought their gear in. Some of the glass bottles were saved, since they might be useful in the future.

All their gear was neatly organized according to use and frequency of need.

Everything was in its proper place.

Now it seemed there was nothing to do but wait.

There was still no sign of the Carpenters.

It wasn’t until the eighth day that something happened.

That morning, Aly was up early. She hadn’t been able to sleep well the night before, finding herself tossing and turning through nightmares. So she’d dragged herself out of bed a couple hours earlier than normal, just when the sun was starting to poke out over the trees.

Jim was already up as well, making coffee in the kitchen, even though it wasn’t his watch shift.

“Nothing?” she said.

He shook his head.

Things were still a little tense between them. They’d agreed to a sort of truce. No more arguing. No more fighting. But they hadn’t resolved whatever it was there issues were.

They’d had to spend plenty of time together, and not just in the cleanup. Jim had insisted that she and Rob learn how to fire and handle a firearm.

Since they spent as little time outside the house as possible, most of the firearm training took place right there in the living room.

Jim had showed her how to empty and load his revolver. Then he’d taught her a couple different grips, helping her find the one that she preferred. He’d taught her how to hold it with both hands, with her hands well away from the cylinder and the hammer.

She’d learned that when the gun fired, pieces of lead and other matter could discharge sideways, burning her hand.

And the hammer, well, it was good to keep out of the way of that.

Jim had taught her and Rob that they needed to first work on simply holding the gun still as they pulled the trigger as fast as they could.

It’d taken her a couple days to get that down.

Since they didn’t want to waste the ammo they had, or draw attention to themselves, they limited their actual outdoor practice to a couple shots here and there.

“Want some coffee?”

“Yeah, two scoops,” said Aly.

Jim shook his head. “Rations. Remember?”

Aly groaned, but said nothing.

Suddenly, the front door flung open.

It was Rob, who’d been outside patrolling the property.

“You’ve got to see this,” he said.

They followed him outside unquestioningly.

From where they stood in the driveway, they could see something off in the distance. It hung over the trees, far away. At first, to Aly’s sleepy eyes, it looked like a huge dark cloud.

But it wasn’t a cloud.

It was smoke.

A huge pillar of smoke, rising high into the sky.

It was intensely black. Dense and thick.

“What is it?” said Aly.

“It’s the start,” said Jim. “They’re burning buildings now.”

It was the answer they’d been waiting for. It was the sign from the outside world.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t the one they’d been looking for.

Behind them, a noise startled them.

It was the unmistakable sound of rubber tires crunching on the gravel.

Aly turned to see a beat up old pickup truck speeding towards them down the driveway.

Aly froze. Her eyes got wide. She felt paralyzed by fear.

The pickup was getting closer.

Only mere feet away.

She could see the driver’s face clearly through the battered windshield.

Jim’s strong hands grabbed her and pulled her out of the way.

He pulled her hard, and she fell down, her face hitting the gravel. Somehow, in the process, Jim fell too. She must have tripped him accidentally or something.

Someone screamed out.

Was it Rob?

Had he been hit by the truck?

20

ROB

The pickup shuddered to a rough stop just an inch from him. He’d jumped back, but not quite far enough. He was lucky not to have gotten hit.

Three men vaulted over the side of the pickup bed. Their boots hit the gravel hard. They moved fast.

Both doors of the pickup were thrown open. Two people stepped out.

“Stay right there,” shouted Jim, from the ground, where he’d fallen. He had his revolver out, pointed at the man who’d stepped out of the driver’s side. “Hands in the air.”

“Boys?” said the pickup driver. He nodded back at the three men who’d jumped out of the bed. Rob noticed now that they were all young. The youngest was probably eighteen, and the oldest couldn’t have been older than twenty four. Each held a rifle, which they now raised. “If I were you,” said the driver, his voice cracking as he spoke. “I’d put that gun down. You’ve got to recognize when you’re outgunned.”

Slowly, Rob put his hands into the air over his head.

The driver was a tall, lanky man wearing loose clothing. A woman, who must have been his wife, walked slowly around the front of the pickup. She was equally tall and thin, with long tangled hair.

The younger men had pimples on their faces and long, greasy hair. They wore ill-fitting clothing.

“What do you what, Carpenter?” said Jim.

“Turns out we’re running out of food. And as you can see,” he gestured over to the billowing smoke off in the distance. “It’s going to be tough to get it from anywhere else.”

“It’s not like the supermarkets are open,” said his wife, her pale thin lips twisting up at the corners in an approximation of a smile.

“So what we’re going to have to do, we decided, is requisition some food from our friendly neighbors.”

“Why should we give you anything?” said Aly, her voice full of anger.

“Well, if it comes to it, we’re going to take it.”

Rob’s mind was racing. He knew that if they lost their food, they might as well be dead.

Without moving much, he looked each of the Carpenters up and down, trying to find weak points.

The young ones had rifles. That was obvious.

The patriarch of the family, Mr. Carpenter, had a long knife worn on his belt. But he didn’t have a gun in hand or visible anywhere on his person.

The wife and mother didn’t seem to be armed.

But either of them might have had guns hidden.

Rob had his in a makeshift holster attached to his belt. Aly and Jessica had helped him fashion it out of some pieces of rubber they’d found. It was held together with plenty of duct tape.

Maybe he could reach his gun.

He’d learned from Jim and Jessica how to fire it properly.

But he’d still only actually fired it three times.

It wasn’t like he was an expert shot. Far from, actually.

He didn’t actually know if he’d be able to hit anyone.

And three rifles pointed at him made it a huge risk.

Where was Jessica? Was she sleeping through all this?

“So what’s it going to be?” said Mr. Carpenter. “What do you have for us? I hope you’ve got some nice juicy steaks in a cooler in there. I’ve been having a strong hankering for some good red meat.”

“You’re not going to get anything from us,” said Jim, speaking in a loud, commanding voice.

“Jim!” hissed Aly. Both of them were still on the ground. “They have guns!”

Jim ignored her.

“What my wife isn’t taking into account is that we’ve got three men inside. All armed. So you’d be fools to make a move on us. You’ll never get back into that truck alive.”

Mr. Carpenter laughed. A big, disgusting laugh. But his eyes showed his suspicion that what Jim said was true. His eyes cast across the windows of the little lake house, looking for some sign that there were three armed men hiding inside.

“I don’t believe that for one second,” said Mr. Carpenter. “If you’ve got three armed men in there, why haven’t they blown us to bits already?”

“Because some of us have a little dignity,” said Jim.

“Boys,” said Mr. Carpenter. “Go in and see what’s there. Make sure to bring me some meat.”

As the boys trudged in a single file line towards the front door, Mr. Carpenter reached into his waistband and pulled out a massive handgun. He pointed it directly at Jim’s head.

“It’d be wise not to do anything stupid,” said Mr. Carpenter. “I don’t want to have to kill you. But if I do, it’s not like the cops are going to come looking for me. It’s every family for themselves now.”

“You might as well be killing us,” said Aly.

“That’s on you,” said Mr. Carpenter.

His wife approached him and put her arm around him, pulling herself close to him. She kissed him sloppily on the cheek, muttering something under her breath that sounded a lot like “I love you, baby.”

From inside the house, a gunshot rang out.

Rob was ready. His eyes were on Mr. Carpenter. He saw the man’s eyes go wide in surprise.

Rob didn’t reach for his gun. He didn’t trust himself not to make a mistake with it.

Instead, he launched his huge body forward. He didn’t bother swinging his fists.

He collided with Carpenter hard.

Carpenter let out a grunt.

The two of them fell to the ground.

Hard.

Rob was on top of Carpenter, his body pinning him down. Rob swung his fist, bringing it high in the air in an arc. His knuckles crashed into Carpenter’s face.

Right on the nose.

Carpenter was reaching for something. His knife or his gun.

With his left hand, Rob pinned Carpenter’s arm at the wrist, pushing it hard down into the gravel.

With his right fist, Rob swung again, smashing his hand hard into the right side of Carpenter’s face.

Carpenter’s face was bleeding. Mostly from the nose. There was blood on Rob’s knuckles.

Rob was filled with anger. He wanted to pummel Carpenter into nothing. He wanted to keep hitting him.

The world around him seemed to have shrunk. There was a thundering roar in his ears, and for a second it seemed like he might forget about the rest of the world altogether.

But there were other things to consider. Guns were involved. Someone had been shot.

He snapped out of it. Out of the rage.

Rob grabbed his handgun, the one that had been taken from the men last week, and shoved the barrel into Carpenter’s face.

There was no need to say anything. The message was clear. If Carpenter made a move, he’d be shot.

Rob looked up.

Aly was holding a gun to the back Mrs. Carpenter’s head. Mrs. Carpenter had her hands on her head.

Jim was on the move, heading rapidly towards the front door.

Another gunshot rang out from inside the house.

21

JIM

Ruger in hand, Jim ran through the open door.

The gunshot from seconds ago still rang in his ears.

But now there was just silence.

The interior of the house was dark. His eyes would take a moment to adjust.

He gripped his revolver tightly. His finger was on the trigger. The hammer was cocked.

They had it under control outside. Both of the Carpenter parents couldn’t make a move without getting holes in their heads.

Now it was time to deal with the offspring.

Jim’s worry was that being young men, they’d be more likely to act impulsively.

Jim pressed himself flat against the faux wood paneling in the small hallway that led to the living room.

He could hear breathing coming from somewhere. Ragged and intense.

He tried to control his own breathing, keeping it from being too audible. His heart was pounding and he was already sweating bullets.

He wanted to take stock of the situation. It wouldn’t be good to rush into it.

But he couldn’t wait too long.

He listened as hard as he could.

But he just heard breathing.

Finally, someone spoke. It was a male voice. Early twenties. Maybe the middle brother.

“What are we going to do?”

“We’ve got to rush her.”

“You think so?”

“Come on, what are we waiting for?”

“Rifles aren’t good for inside. That’s what Dad said, remember?”

“It doesn’t matter. They still shoot, right?”

“And there are three of us.”

There were three separate voices. None of them sounded injured.

So who had fired the shots?

He’d thought it’d been Jessica, judging from the sound of the gunshots.

Maybe she’d missed.

There was also the possibility that Jim had misjudged the quality of the sound of the gunshots. Maybe Jessica had been shot at. Maybe she’d been hit. Maybe she’d holed herself up in the bedroom, where she was slowly bleeding out.

Jim needed to do something.

Jim inched closer to the edge that lead into the other room. He moved as quietly as he could.

“The next one won’t be a warning shot,” came Jessica’s voice, coming clearly from the bedroom.

“We aren’t messing around with warning shots,” shouted one of the Carpenter brothers.

There was no way to coordinate with Jessica without alerting the brothers to his presence.

He wished Rob was there with him. Or Aly. He should have brought them.

But there wasn’t time to go back and get them quietly.

Jim stepped around the corner, leading with his Ruger.

His heart was pounding. His adrenaline was pumping through him. Time seemed to have slowed down slightly. His vision was a tunnel of concentration, the periphery slightly blackened out.

For a long moment, none of the brothers noticed him.

He had his Ruger pointed at the back of one of their heads. The older brother.

Jim could pull the trigger. Kill him instantly. His body would crumple to the floor. His brothers would turn and open fire.

A memory of the young man Tim flashed through his mind. A brief image. Nothing more. It was Tim’s face, his eyes open wide, as he lay on Aly’s mother’s floor.

But the idea of bloodshed didn’t deter him. He didn’t relish the idea of taking a life. But he’d do what he had to do.

It wasn’t that that made him not pull the trigger.

It was the simple logistics of it.

He had a realistic opinion of his firearms skills, his abilities. He knew what he was doing. He could hit a target reliably. And he was fast. But he wasn’t going to win any competitions for speed. He wasn’t nearly as good or as fast as plenty of men and women he’d seen at the range.

He was just a guy. A realistic one, at that.

Maybe he could get off a second shot.

Maybe.

And after that, he’d get his own bullet. Probably to the stomach, given the level the brothers were holding their hunting rifles at.

It wouldn’t be hard to aim a rifle at this range. All the brothers would have to do is spin and pull the trigger. They wouldn’t even really have to aim at all. Just point and shoot.

It was time to act.

“Before you shoot,” said Jim, in a loud voice.

Two of the brothers spun around. The other remained facing the room Jessica was in.

“Know that we’ve got your parents at gunpoint outside.”

The brothers glanced at each other.

They didn’t open fire.

That was good.

For now.

“You hurt, Jessica?” shouted Jim.

“I’m OK,” shouted Jessica back.

“There are two ways out of this,” said Jim. “We can all open fire. The way I see it, no matter how it goes, most of us are going down. And then friends outside will have no choice but to come rushing in here to help. And to do that they’re going to have to shoot your parents dead. To incapacitate them. Is that what you want?”

“What’s the other option?” said the oldest and tallest brother.

“The other option,” said Jim. “Is that I let you walk out of this house alive. And you and your family leave the property and don’t come back.”

“What kind of assurances can you give us?”

“None,” said Jim. “Just like you can’t give me any. Words don’t mean much. Not these days.”

One of the brothers mumbled something to the other. The one who was facing Jessica’s direction kept looking back nervously.

“Jessica!” shouted Jim. “I need you out here.”

There was a noise as if Jessica was moving a piece of furniture. Then the door opened and she stepped out slowly, leading with her Glock.

Her hair was a mess. After all, she’d just woken up.

But there was fire and determination in her face and her eyes. She looked like she could have taken on all three of the brothers herself. Or at least die trying.

“What’s it going to be?” said Jim. “You’ve got two seconds to decide.”

“We’ll go.”

Jim nodded. He kept his Ruger pointed at them, and Jessica did the same.

The brothers walked single file out the front door that they’d come through. Jim followed them closely, with Jessica behind them.

Aly and Rob stood there tall, guns in hand, with the Carpenter parents completely under control.

Mr. Carpenter wore an expression on his face that was a confusing mixture of fear and shame. Mrs. Carpenter looked strangely haughty, as if she was a rich woman who’d been forced into less then luxurious accommodations.

“Keep your gun trained on them,” said Jim to Jessica.

But there wasn’t any need to tell her that. She had some innate sense of what she was doing. He said it more for the Carpenters.

“What’s the deal, Jim?” said Rob, who had blood on his hands and his shirt sleeves. “Take their rifles? Kill them?”

“No,” said Jim. “We’re not executing them. And we’re not taking their rifles. Keep the handguns, though.”

“Why not?” said Aly. “You’re going to leave them with guns, Jim?”

“Consider it a gesture of good faith,” said Jim. “We’re going to continue being neighbors. With rifles, you’ll be able to hunt for food. Between game and the fish in the lake, you’ll do fine.”

“Jim!” shouted Aly. “You can’t just let them go with their guns. They’ll come back and murder us.”

Jim hesitated for a moment.

Maybe she was right.

But he couldn’t do it.

He couldn’t kill an entire family like this. If it had been in a gunfight, that would have been different.

But it was no longer the heat of battle. There’d hardly even really been a battle.

Now it would be simply murder in cold blood.

But was he putting the life of his wife and his friends at risk?

Yes.

“I don’t trust them, Jim,” said Rob.

“Me neither,” said Jessica.

Jim’s thoughts were flickering, changing rapidly.

It was a hard decision.

Maybe they should confiscate the rifles.

It was just foolish to let them keep them. Especially after what had just happened.

How had he been about to do that? His mind must have been weak from the week of little food. And from the stress. He wasn’t thinking clearly. There’d been too many nights where he’d taken an extra watch, letting someone else get some sleep.

The brothers were standing there dumbly, their rifles held in limp arms at their sides. They didn’t look like a threat.

But they were.

Then again, it wasn’t really about taking their guns or not.

If the Carpenters wanted guns, they could get them.

If the Carpenters wanted to attack the lake house again, they’d do it, guns or not.

It was really a decision about whether or not to execute the Carpenters.

And Jim wasn’t going to do that.

“Let them keep the rifles,” said Jim. Now he turned towards the patriarch. Towards Mr. Carpenter. “I want you to remember this,” he said.

Mr. Carpenter nodded meekly, looking down at the gravel driveway, not meeting Jim’s eyes.

“Now get the hell out of here,” said Jim.

The Carpenter family loaded into their truck, the brothers hopping into the bed, and Jim and the rest of them watched the truck back up slowly down the driveway.

“I hope I did the right thing,” said Jim.

“I can’t believe you let them leave with their guns,” said Aly.

“It was either kill them or let them go,” said Jim.

“I think they’re trouble,” said Jessica.

“Maybe,” said Jim. “But we’re going to have no shortage of trouble. Soon enough, survivors from the city will be making their way out here, and one neighboring family is going to be least of our concern.”

The pickup reached the road and turned. Mr. Carpenter was visible through the windshield, his hands on the wheel.

The pickup paused there, the engine idling.

“What are they doing? Why aren’t they leaving?”

Mr. Carpenter leaned his head out the rolled-down window. But he turned backwards, towards his sons, rather than towards Jim and the others.

Jim didn’t hear what he said to the brothers.

But the next thing he knew, one of the sons was raising his rifle.

“Get down!” shouted Jim.

Jim seized Aly’s arm and pulled her towards him, trying to pull her out her out the line of fire.

But it was too late.

Time seemed to be moving slowly.

The shot rang out. The rifle cracked.

Holding onto Aly, Jim felt the impact himself as the bullet hit her.

Someone shouted.

The tires of the pickup spun, kicking up clouds of dirt.

The pickup moved forward with a jolt, the rear wheels slaloming.

With a roar, the pickup had sped off and was gone.

“Aly!” shouted Jim, peering down into her face.

He lowered her gently onto the ground.

It was his fault.

All his fault.

He hadn’t taken the guns.

He’d never forgive himself if she died.

He’d never forgive himself even if she lived. And she certainly wouldn’t forgive him.

But those thoughts of guilt weren’t going to help him now. He had to push them to the back of his mind.

“Aly, stay with me,” he said. “Hang in there.”

Rob and Jessica had already rushed over.

“We’ve got to get her into the house,” said Rob.

“I need to find the wound.”

Aly’s eyes were slowly closing, and she wasn’t speaking. She was just breathing slowly and heavily, as if she was in great pain.

There was blood on the ground, seeping out from underneath Aly.

“Jessica, get me something inside to stop the bleeding. Quick!”

22

JESSICA

Jessica was still reeling from the near-death experience minutes ago. She’d almost been in a shootout with the three brothers who’d come into the house.

But there wasn’t any time to deal with the experience.

Aly lay on the driveway, blood flowing out of her and staining the gravel around her.

Jim, remarkably, was keeping it together. He wasn’t having a breakdown or becoming useless, the way most romantic partners probably would in a similar situation.

They’d all been trained, as a society, to call 911 in emergencies. They’d been trained to look to the authorities for help. All you had to do was contact the right person, and then the situation was out of your hands.

Sure, there were those few who knew something of CPR, of first-responder situations. But that wasn’t the norm.

Now there was no 911. No telephone. No one to call.

Jessica didn’t know the first thing about first aid.

The only thing she knew, merely by instinct, was to stop the bleeding.

Jessica had grabbed as many of their medical supplies she could and brought them back out to the driveway.

“Keep a good lookout, Rob,” said Jim. “Head down to the end of the driveway. See if they’re coming back. Take the rifle.”

Rob was off, his heavy tread crunching on the gravel.

“You find the wound?” said Jessica, kneeling down next to Jim, and unpacking some of the supplies she thought might help stop the bleeding.

She’d never done anything more to a wound than apply a bandage. The closest experience she had was patching up puncture bicycle tubes. And she knew that wasn’t really even in the same ballpark.

“Yeah. Right here.”

He lifted Aly’s shirt and showed her what looked like a small wound in her abdomen.

“It looks small.”

“It wasn’t a large bullet, but these smaller wounds can be just as deadly.”

“Did the bullet exit?”

“Yeah. It’s there on the ground. That’s good.”

“That’s good?”

“Yeah,” said Jim. “The worst injuries come from when the bullet stays inside the body, rattling around in there and causing damage to the internal organs. She’s bleeding a lot. I want to get this done out here before moving her.”

Jim was working rapidly, unrolling a large roll of bandage material and grabbing a bottle of alcohol.

“What can I do?”

“Hold her down.”

Aly wasn’t moving. Her eyes were completely closed.

But she was still breathing.

Rob stood watch, Jessica held onto Aly, and Jim worked rapidly, getting a rudimentary bandage onto the wound.

When he was done, the three of them carried Aly gently into the house and laid her down on the large bed in the master bedroom.

Jim sat next to her on the bed, and used his hand to apply pressure.

“Don’t blame yourself, Jim,” said Jessica, standing nearby in the small, cramped room.

“I’m the one who made the decision,” said Jim. “And now Aly has to live with the consequences.”

The minutes passed slowly, and they gradually became hours.

Jim didn’t leave her side. But he couldn’t keep up the pressure himself, so with Jessica’s help, he devised a way to wrap one of the long cloth strips completely around her, tightly enough that pressure would stay constant on both the wounds.

Aly opened her eyes once or twice, but only for brief moments in which she looked confused. She closed them again rapidly.

Her breathing remained faint and ragged.

“What do we do now?” said Jessica.

“Sew up the wound,” said Jim. “But you’re going to have to do it. My hands are shaking too much. I can’t believe I did this to her.”

“I’ve never done anything like that, though,” said Jessica.

“What did you do for work?”

“Bike mechanic.”

“That’s perfect. You’ve already got the delicate touch.”

“It’s not the same.”

Rob was outside, keeping guard.

Neither Jim nor Jessica spoke a word, and the house was deadly silent, except for Aly’s breathing.

Jim had all the supplies, a delicate yet strong thread for stitching the wound, antiseptic ointment to apply, and even gloves to work with.

“We’ve got to do everything we can do avoid an infection,” said Jim, disappearing from the room for a moment and repairing with a bottle of Aly’s uncle’s vodka. “This’ll work better than water.”

Looking back on it later, Jessica didn’t know how she did it. She worked diligently, with Jim, whose hands shook almost violently, handing her the supplies.

They sterilized everything and worked carefully to keep the surrounding environment as clean as they possibly could.

Aly opened her eyes the first time the needle pierced her flesh, and she screamed out.

Jim found a wooden spoon in the kitchen for her to bite down on, and gave her a couple drinks of the vodka for the pain. He offered her one of the bottles of her mother’s prescription opiates, but she shook her head wordlessly, and he nodded in agreement. It was her decision, after all.

Jessica sewed Aly’s wound up as if she was working on sewing up a torn pillow that had stuffing coming out of it. She tried to keep the stitches close together, since she figured the thread she was using wasn’t going to be as strong what was used in typical hospital sutures. They had no other options, so she had to just do the best she could.

It seemed to take forever. Aly’s groans of pain, through her spoon clenching teeth, didn’t make it seem any shorter. Jessica was painfully aware of how much pain she was causing her.

But it had to be done.

When it was all over, Jessica nodded at Jim, and they both retreated into the living room to discuss in hushed voices the prognosis.

“You think she’s going to be OK?” said Jim.

Jessica nodded. “She lost a lot of blood. But the bleeding seems to have stopped for the most part.”

Jim put his hands to his face and covered his eyes, letting out a painful groan. “It’s my fault,” he said.

Since they’d met a week ago, he’d always seemed like a strong willed person, like a guy who knew what had to be done and didn’t hesitate to do it.

But in her pre-EMP life, Jessica had seen other strong men fall prey to self doubt and guilt. She knew that something like that could rip him apart and leave him doubting everything he did.

And this new post-EMP world wasn’t a place for people like that.

So she didn’t offer words of comfort. She didn’t put her hand on his back and tell him that everything was going to be OK.

“Jim,” she said, in a strong, clear voice, not carrying if Aly heard her from the next room. “You’ve got to pull yourself together. What happened happened. I don’t care if it was your fault or not. But if you start going down this rabbit hole, you’re never going to come out. And we need you. If you get absorbed in this, you’re not going to be effective here. And that means you’ll be putting the life of me, your wife, and your friend all in danger.”

Jim stared at her with an unreadable expression.

“You’re the one who convinced me this was a serious situation,” said Jessica. “And if you hadn’t hit me with your car and then taken me in, who knows what would have happened to me. So you don’t owe me anything, the way I see it. But you do owe your friend and your wife something…”

Finally, Jim spoke, cutting her off mid-sentence. Which was good because she was running out of the right words to say.

“Got it,” he said, leaving his words simple. “You’re right. I’ll go check on Aly, and then we’ll meet in the living room to discuss a new strategy.”

And that was that.

With Aly’s groans of pain coming sporadically from the bedroom, Rob, Jessica, and Jim sat in the living room while Jim laid out the new watch shift.

It was a rough schedule. Two people on duty at all times. Fully armed. Not just firearms, but knives as well. One of the two would have the rifle as well.

The new schedule meant less rest for all of them. Four hour shifts of sleep, rotating around the clock.

But it was necessary.

Who knew what the Carpenters were planning. But for now, at least, it seemed not a question of when they would return, but when.

After all, the way Jim and the rest of them saw it, Jim had given the Carpenters a chance for an honorable truce. And they’d turned around and shot his wife. A cowardly move. And one that signaled their ongoing intentions as clear as day.

There wasn’t any time to waste.

Rob and Jessica insisted that Jim take the first rest shift. He eventually agreed, but instead of sleeping he spent the entire time with waiting by his wife’s side.

With the rifle, Rob patrolled the outskirts of the lake house, while Jessica stayed close by, keeping a watchful eye and cautious ear out for the Carpenter’s return.

Four hours later, it was Jessica’s turn to rest. But there wasn’t any rest to be had, since there were chores to be done. She had to feed Aly, for one thing, not to mention make sure they were consuming their food at the right rate. They had a little ration chart that Jim had drawn up, and it needed to be diligently kept up to date, or else they might burn through more of their food then they realized.

They were hoping to start fishing soon enough, to stretch out their supplies of packaged food, especially now that they’d already finished the perishables. But with the Carpenters as a very near and very real threat, spending hours at the lake dangling a fishing line didn’t seem like a good idea.

But life had to go on, despite the heightened security. Water had to be fetched and boiled, with the hopes that the gas tank wouldn’t run out on them any time soon.

The shifts of rest and watches began to blur together, and before Jessica knew it, a few days had gone by.

She was more exhausted than ever. Running on little sleep and few calories.

It was three days after the Carpenters had shot Aly that Jim came up to Jessica with a worried look on his face.

She was standing outside the house, her eyes scanning the surrounding trees, looking for anything suspicious. For any movement.

When Jessica glanced at Jim’s face, she saw his sunken and blurred, bloodshot eyes. But that was normal. She knew she looked the same. But there was something else in his face. His mouth was twitching at the corners.

“She’s worse,” said Jim. His voice was low and level. But crystal clear. There was no mistaking his meaning. “The wound isn’t healing.”

That wasn’t news. Jessica had seen it herself over the last few days. It hadn’t healed as it was supposed to.

But what Jim said next was news. “It’s infected,” he said.

“Infected? Are you sure?”

Jim nodded. “It’s red and inflamed. Parts of it are purple and swollen.”

Jessica thought for a moment before responding. “What are we going to do?”

“We don’t have any antibiotics,” said Jim.

Jessica nodded. It was one of the most useful medicines missing from their otherwise very complete stockpile.

“Couldn’t we give her something else? Some of the corticosteroid creams?”

“Those will just make the infection worse,” said Jim. “They’re not used for treating something like that.”

“So what are we going to do?”

“I thought we could wait it out,” said Jim. “I noticed it yesterday, but it’s worse today. The only thing to do is to get some antibiotics.”

“But how?”

“I’m going into town,” said Jim.

“It’s too dangerous,” said Jessica. “We have no idea what’s going on out there.”

That wasn’t entirely true. While there’d been no news from the outside world, they had seen more plumes of smoke rising over the trees.

Whatever was going on in the outside world, it wasn’t good.

“I’ve got to do it,” said Jim. “She’s not going to survive without antibiotics.”

Jessica knew Jim well enough at this point to know that he meant what he said. And there wasn’t any changing his mind.

“I’m going with you, then,” said Jessica. “Who knows what you’re going to find out there. You’ll need backup.”

Jim shook his head. “I can’t ask you to do that. Plus, I need you here. You and Rob need to protect Aly. The Carpenters are coming back. It’s just a question of when.”

“Probably when they get more desperate from starvation.”

“Exactly,” said Jim. “And desperation will make them all the more ruthless. Rob’s not going to be able to defend the place by himself.”

“When are you leaving?”

“In an hour. I’m already packed.”

“You’re taking the Subaru?”

“It’s going to be faster. But I need your help with something before I leave.”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t know if I have enough gas to get there and back. Especially if something happens and there’s a delay. So I need you to get that bike of yours ready for me to ride. I’ll bring it with me and ride it back with the antibiotics if something happens. Aly can’t wait long and I’ll need to get back as fast as I can.”

“Sure,” said Jessica. “You keep watch while I work. It shouldn’t take me long.”

Jessica went inside to grab some tools. The door to Aly’s bedroom was open, and Aly lay there on the bed. She didn’t look good at all. Her face had lost all its color, and she breathing slowly and shallowly.

“You doing OK, Aly?” said Jessica.

Aly didn’t answer. She just shook her head ever so slightly, and stared at Jessica with barely opened eyes full of pain.

Jim was right. If Aly didn’t get the antibiotics she needed, she wouldn’t make it. And even if she did get the medicine, there was still a chance she’d die.

Jessica tried to put all that out of her mind. And she set to work. It was the only sensible course of action, after all. The thing to do was just to keep going. To push on through it all.

Jessica didn’t have all her bike tools with her, but she did have a small multi-tool designed specifically for bike maintenance. It had the hex wrenches on it, as well as a couple other odds and ends.

She’d done enough roadside maintenance in her time to know how to improvise when the right tools weren’t available.

The bike wasn’t in terrible shape, but it wasn’t rideable right now.

One of the tubes was punctured. That was an easy enough fix, and it only took her a couple minutes. After all, she was a pro.

The chain had been knocked off the gears. This was normally an easy fix, but some of the links had been bent beyond repair. There was no way to get the chain back onto the gears.

The only solution, in the absence of a replacement chain, was to remove some of the links. Shortening the chain meant that Jim wouldn’t be able to change gears. He’d essentially have a single speed bike. Using sewing pins and a lot of swearing, Jessica got the links removed and got the chain reattached around the middle gears.

The bike’s frame was cracked near the bottom bracket. Normally that meant it wasn’t safe to ride. But there wasn’t any way to fix it. Jim would have to hope that the crack didn’t get worse.

Jessica raised the seat since Jim was taller than her, and took the bike outside to him.

“How long you think it’ll take you?”

“Dewittville is only two hours away by car. But who knows what the roads are like. And if I have to bike back, it’ll be even longer.”

From the end of the driveway, Rob came walking quickly. He’d been patrolling the wider area.

“We’ll take good care of her, Jim,” said Rob. “Just try to stay safe yourself.”

Jim nodded. His had an expression of grim determination on it as he lowered himself into the Subaru.

No more words were spoken as Jim cranked the engine and backed slowly down the gravel driveway.

“You think he’ll make it?” said Rob, as they watched the Subaru disappear behind the trees.

“Yeah,” said Jessica. “He’s got to. Now let’s talk about what we’re going to do if the Carpenters return while Jim’s gone.”

23

JIM

Aly’s pus-filled infected wounds were weighing heavily on Jim’s mind.

But he had to push them to the back of his head. There were plenty more immediate things that he needed to worry about.

The Carpenter’s house was up ahead. If he didn’t make it past there, Aly wouldn’t get her antibiotics. And she’d die. There were no two ways about it. And Jim didn’t believe in sugar coating anything, even to himself.

Jim grabbed the shifter, depressed the clutch, and got the Subaru into neutral. He didn’t want to kill the engine, but if he could coast by the Carpenter’s house, there was less of a chance they’d hear him.

If they saw him, they might try to shoot him as he passed. Or, worse, they might try to attack the lake house now, knowing that he was away.

The blinds in the squalid little house were drawn and there was no one out. No sign of anyone, really, except for the beat up pickup in the driveway.

When Jim was well past the Carpenter’s house, the Subaru was slowing down, and he put it back in second and slowly accelerated, keeping the engine noise to a minimum.

His plan was to take the back roads north to Dewittville, which was a small town of only a few thousand. He had maps with him, as well as a small backpack with enough food to sustain him for a few days.

But he didn’t expect to be eating much.

The plan was to get to the pharmacy, grab the antibiotics and head back. As quickly as possible. And with as little human interaction as possible.

People were going to be getting desperate. Every new interaction would have a possibility for violence. For confrontation. For injury. And death.

The biggest problem that he foresaw was that the pharmacy would likely be already raided. And antibiotics were going to be a prime target for everyone.

Sure, many people would go for the opiates. For the anti-anxiety meds. But the ones who understood the true risks at play in a situation like this would go for the antibiotics. They’d stockpile them.

And that meant that if Jim had to get to them, he’d be up against people who knew what they were doing, who were most likely armed.

He didn’t know how it would play out.

But the one thing he did already know was that he’d stop at nothing to keep his wife from dying from an infected gunshot wound. Especially one that was his fault.

Jim kept a close eye on the gas gauge as he drove. It was getting down into the danger zone, and he expected the emergency gas light to come on at any moment.

But he knew that he had about three gallons left once that warning light came on. And that was a lot of miles, so long as he drove carefully. The important thing for gas economy was to not drive faster than 55 MPH, and accelerate and brake slowly.

When possible, on the long sloping down hills, Jim put the Subaru into neutral and killed the engine.

There weren’t any other cars on the road.

He’d expected to see a few. Maybe some stopped. Maybe some moving.

But there were none.

Rather than being reassuring, it was eerie, giving him a sense of dread that sunk deep into his bones. He couldn’t shake it no matter how hard he tried.

Occasionally, when the trees allowed for it, Jim could glimpse thick plumes of black some on the horizon. He didn’t know where they came from. But he knew what they meant.

Chaos.

Jim wondered what would happen to the lake house if the Carpenters attacked while he was gone.

Would Jessica and Rob be able to handle it on their own?

They’d be, after all, severely outnumbered.

There wasn’t anything he could do about it. Not now while he was away. He’d done his best training Rob in firearms. In accuracy. Reloading. Everything he knew.

Hopefully it’d be enough.

Jim glanced at his map. He was getting close to Dewittville. He was expecting to come up to an intersection at any moment. He’d take a right, and it’d be a five minute drive into the center of town.

The road took a long, sloping curve around to the right.

The intersection was up ahead. Finally visible.

But there was more.

A large windowless van was parked laterally across the street, about a hundred feet before the road broke into the turn offs.

Jim slowed down, keeping his eyes peeled, looking for any sign of human activity.

The van was from the 1980s, one of the large ones used by plumbers and other workmen. Probably one of the one ton versions.

If Jim drove partially off the road, there’d be just enough room to squeeze around the van.

But maybe that was what someone out there was hoping for. After all, there must have been a reason the van was parked like that.

Someone could easily be hiding in the woods or the interior of the van, waiting to spring out and shoot at Jim’s tires.

Or worse, shoot him through the window.

Jim’s mind was working rapidly.

The way he saw it, he didn’t have any other options.

He had to go for it.

And if he was going to do it, he was going to do it fast. This wasn’t the time for caution. The faster he got through there, the safer he’d be. Sure, he’d risk an accident, but that the least of his worries right now.

Still no sign from the van. Or from the woods.

Jim downshifted quickly.

He floored the accelerator.

The Subaru leapt forward.

Jim drove straight towards the van, swerving only at the very last moment.

The right tires hit the bumpy ground. The Subaru rocked forcibly across the bumps and ruts.

The van on the left side moved by in a rapid blur.

Jim was going too fast.

There was a tree in his path straight ahead. If he continued, he’d wrap the right side of the engine around the tree.

Jim jerked the wheel to the left as hard as he could. The Subaru turned sharply.

There was a flash of movement off to the left.

Jim didn’t have time to look. He was struggling to get the Subaru back on the road.

He didn’t dare take his foot off the accelerator, in case whoever was there got their way.

A loud bang rang out.

The window behind Jim let out a loud crack.

The Subaru swerved onto the road. Yanking the wheel, Jim got it into a straight line.

In the rearview mirror, a woman stood in the middle of the road, directly behind him. She had long, tangled hair that hung past her shoulders. A rifle was in her hands, pointed directly at the Subaru.

Jim ducked down just in time.

Another loud bang and another crack. The bullet had struck the rear windshield.

Jim popped his head back up just in time to take the turn to the right.

A few tense seconds later, he was around the corner and speeding down a calm, empty road.

The van and the woman were behind him, and he was unharmed.

There wasn’t time to examine damage to the Subaru. Besides, a few semi-shattered windows didn’t matter.

His heart was pounding and there was sweat on his forehead.

He didn’t have to know who that woman was to know what she meant.

She meant that the societal situation had progressed to chaos. She was a rogue, robbing people on the road. Highway robbery was, in a very real sense, an ancient tradition that happened in places where the rule of the law had fallen to the wayside, where the natural ruthless nature of the human had room to freely raise its head and spew forth the violence and chaos that were required to take what it wanted, what it needed for its survival.

Jim was approaching the town.

Up ahead, there was a gas station to the right. And a supermarket to the left.

Farther down, there was a large hardware store.

The parking lots were all full. Probably from the shoppers that’d been there when the EMP had struck.

Jim slowed down as he approached a traffic light. The intersection here connected his road with a large, four lane road that ran through the center of the small town.

There were cars everywhere on the road, many of them when their doors and trunks open. They’d been abandoned, just left there.

There wasn’t another person in sight.

But Jim knew that didn’t mean much. Especially after his last encounter.

He’d barely survived. And that made him nervous. He didn’t like the idea of traps. Traps were situations where he didn’t stand a chance, where the odds were already stacked against him.

But that was reality.

And reality wasn’t fair.

There wasn’t such a thing as a fair fight.

Jim took the turn, heading onto the main road, heading down to the right where the largest cluster of shops seemed to be.

He had to weave through the stopped cars, sometimes driving slowly as he squeezed through tight spaces. Fortunately, the Subaru was a narrow vehicle.

It hadn’t even been two weeks since the EMP.

The way Jim saw it, it would take much longer for the majority of the population to die off.

If there was no violence, which was highly unlikely, people could survive for three weeks without any food at all. And there were bound to be scraps of food here and there to eat. So the real timeframe of starvation die off in this situation was much longer.

Jim doubted the city water here would be running, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t less than ideal water to drink. There’d be water in toilets, in the pipes, in water heaters, in ponds, and plenty of other places. People might get sick, but they’d be alive, for the most part.

The violence had likely already started, but who knew how far it had gone. Countless factors could determine what the violence would play out like, and it would probably be different for every town, city, and geographical area.

So Jim was heading into a town where people were closing in on the point of starvation. They were likely sick and starving and willing to do just about anything to get themselves and their families out of that situation.

They were desperate and dangerous.

Jim felt his Ruger with his hand, just to make sure it was there. It was reassuring. But only to a certain extent.

Jim saw no one as he weaved through the stopped cars. He drove past various shops and a few small houses that had been turned into apartment buildings.

Everywhere he looked, the shades were drawn and the doors were closed. Everywhere he looked, of course, there was no power.

Jim’s eyes scanned the shops for anything that looked like a pharmacy. Grocery stores often had pharmacies inside. But Jim figured grocery stores would be raided even before pharmacies.

To the left, he spotted one. A small pharmacy, probably family owned.

The pharmacy looked strangely normal, as if it was any other day, except for the absence of lights. A couple cars were in the parking lot.

Jim swung the wheel around and pulled the Subaru into the parking lot.

He killed the engine, pocketed the keys, and got out.

Grabbing his backpack from the rear, he unzipped it and checked the contents.

Everything was there. A hammer. A crow bar. Bolt cutters. A pair of thick work gloves. All taken from Aly’s mother’s basement.

Hopefully breaking in would be as simple as breaking a window.

It wasn’t like he had to worry about alarm systems.

Jim glanced up and down the street. He saw no one.

But he didn’t expect it to stay that way. For all he knew, there were people waiting and in hiding. Ready to pounce. Ready to take from him what he had.

Jim strode swiftly across the parking lot, heading towards the rear of the store.

The front windows of the pharmacy were shattered. Piece of glass were completely missing in places.

Jim figured it was safer to go in the back. He wanted to stay out of view as much as possible.

In the back, the pavement of the parking lot was cracked and weeds grew. There weren’t any cars there. Just an old, rusted dumpster that was overflowing with trash. It reminded him of the area behind his little computer shop.

For all Jim knew, people had ransacked the shop, stealing cell phones and expensive electrical equipment, not knowing that it was all worthless now.

There was a back door to the pharmacy. Instead of a thick, steel door, it was a regular wooden door with a pane of glass.

Small town, thought Jim.

He couldn’t have gotten away with a door like that in Rochester.

With the hammer, Jim gave the glass a single, hard, whack.

The glass shattered.

Not wanting to injure himself, Jim got a glove on his hand, reaching inside. It wasn’t hard to find the deadbolt.

A couple seconds later, the door was wide open.

The darkness of the interior yawned in front of him.

Jim’s flashlight was still working, and he flicked it on, and took a single, cautious step inside.

But not before taking his revolver from its holster and getting his finger on the trigger.

As far as he was concerned, it was time to shoot first and ask questions later.

24

ROB

Rob was beyond tired. Beyond exhausted. He felt almost like he was living in a dream. He’d never pushed his body this hard.

He’d never walked this much. Or stayed awake this long for so many days on end. He’d never eaten so few calories in his entire life.

But he kept going.

And that was new to him.

He’d always found a reason to quit everything. Or, if he didn’t quit, he’d give up in some way or another.

He’d been fired from too many jobs to count. And while he always acted like he didn’t know why, he always did. After a couple weeks, he’d lose interest in the job and start slacking off. He’d show up late, leave early, just about everything he could to ensure he’d get canned.

Of course, it might have been happening unconsciously. Or at least part of it.

The jobs had seemed meaningless. He’d always sold tires or hotdogs or even insurance. And in the back of his mind, he’d known that none of it really mattered.

If he hadn’t sold the goods, someone else would be happy to step in and fill his shoes.

But now, things were real.

People relied on him.

Jim relied on him. Jessica relied on him. And Aly too, probably more than any of the rest.

If Rob failed, the other three might not make it.

What Rob did mattered.

He had a purpose.

And that was why he’d pushed himself harder than ever.

There’d been moments, sure, where he’d almost caved. There’d been moments where he’d found himself alone in the kitchen with all the food. He could have easily snuck a few hundred extra calories.

But he’d somehow stopped himself. He hadn’t given in. Just thinking about them all starving in a few weeks was enough to stop him.

He’d continued to work on his firearms training after the Carpenters had shown up.

When they came again, he wouldn’t feel like he couldn’t shoot. He’d remember everything that he’d been taught and put it into practice. He could almost see Mr. Carpenter lying on the ground already, a bullet in his chest.

He wasn’t someone who liked to hurt people. But that cheap shot, the way they’d shot Ally when driving away, well that was too much. It made his blood boil.

Rob was standing outside the lake house, watching the end of the driveway intently.

It had only been a few hours since Jim had left.

The door behind him opened, and Jessica stepped out.

“How’s Aly doing?”

“Same as before. Doesn’t look good.”

“I hope Jim gets back soon.”

“Me too. I hope he gets back. Period.”

“He will.”

“How do you know?”

“I know him. I’ve seen him once he puts his mind to something.”

“Let’s hope that’s true.”

“What are we going to do about the shifts?”

“With just two of us, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“We’ll rest when we can. A couple hours here or there. Should be enough to keep us going until Jim gets back.”

“You look like you’re going to pass out right now.”

“I’ll be fine. You should get some rest, though.”

“I’m fine, too.”

Rob grunted. “Why don’t you make us some coffee, at least, if we’re both too stubborn to take a break.”

Jessica nodded. “Sure,” she said. And after a pause, she added, “Do you think they’ll come in the truck?”

“You say that like they’re definitely going to come.”

“I thought that was a given.”

Rob said nothing for a couple moments. He was thinking. His eyes scanned the driveway and moved to the evergreens that surrounded the lake house, shielding it from view. “If it was me,” he said. “I wouldn’t come barreling down the driveway. I’d sneak up. Maybe split up.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” said Jessica. “Because that’s the same thought I had.”

“So how do we defend against that?”

“Keep an eye out,” said Jessica.

“That’s it?”

“What else can we do?”

Rob groaned. “I think I’m going to need that coffee to be a double. Maybe an extra tablespoon of instant in mine?”

Jessica shook her head. “Rations, remember? They even apply to coffee.”

Rob groaned again as Jessica disappeared inside the house, the door closing behind her.

The seconds turned into minutes, and Jessica didn’t yet return with the coffee. He wondered if she was expecting him to go into the kitchen. But on the other hand, she knew one of them had to be outside at all times.

His mind was tired. Of course she’d come back outside.

Thoughts came and went in cloudy swirls, disappearing and reappearing without any apparent order.

He was vaguely aware that he was losing track of time.

How long had it been since he’d slept?

What was he doing?

Oh yeah, he was patrolling around the house. Where had he been last? Maybe out to the road.

It was time to check on the lake.

By the time he was walking towards the lake, through the trees, he’d completely forgotten about the coffee and Jessica.

Rob knew that sleep deprivation affected short term memory. But that knowledge didn’t help him remember anything.

It was only a few minutes walk down to the lake. Rob stood on the edge and stared out across the calm waters. There was a slight breeze that had been blocked by the trees around the house.

Rob took deep gulps of the air, and it seemed to make him feel more awake.

The lake looked beautiful. The sun, when it peeked out from behind the clouds, glinted across the ripples on the water.

It would have been a nice place to visit on a vacation, if Rob had ever really had a vacation. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d held a job long enough to have a vacation.

What was he doing down here?

Patrolling.

He needed to keep it together.

People relied on him, after all.

Where was the reliant Rob? The hardworking Rob? The Rob with a purpose?

He was fading away. Sleep deprivation and exhaustion were eating away at him.

But he’d push through. Just like he knew Jim would, out there in the nearby town.

Suddenly, Rob realized that something was out of place.

There was a canoe on the edge of the lake. The bow had been pulled up and it rested on the rocky shore. The stern of the long, green, canoe bobbed slightly with the tide.

That canoe shouldn’t have been there.

It wasn’t there before.

Even Rob’s muddled brain could understand that.

His heart started to pound.

Adrenaline started to course through him.

He started to wake up out of his stupor. His brain understood the danger. It was telling his body to marshal all available resources.

So that he could be ready for a fight.

Rob’s hand went to his gun. He got it out. Got it ready. Finger on the trigger.

He sunk down to a crouching position, getting himself closer to the ground.

His eyes scanned the area, moving rapidly.

So the Carpenters had decided to come. And some of them had come across the lake.

But where were they?

Had they already made their way toward the house and Rob had somehow missed their path when he’d come down to the lake?

Or were they there, hiding among the trees? Waiting to ambush him?

Rob felt his hand getting sweaty as it gripped his gun.

It was completely silent, except for a lone bird off in the distance and the gentle lap of the water against the short.

The only thing Rob could hear was his own heart thumping.

25

JIM

Jim moved cautiously but swiftly through the abandoned pharmacy.

As he’d suspected, the place had been ransacked. Probably days earlier.

Everything that could be eaten or drunk was gone. The shelves were empty, and many had been overturned.

There was trash on the floor. All sorts of things, from papers to wrappers. There was even a street sign that had been graffitied, torn off, and dragged into the store for some unknown reason.

Maybe it was the work of a mob. Maybe it was just a few people, desperately looking for something to feed their families with.

Who knew.

What mattered to Rob was whether or not there were antibiotics left.

Most of the over-the-counter products were gone.

Rob moved behind the counter, only to find that the carefully arranged shelves of pills had met the same fate as the rest of the store.

Pills littered the ground, crunching under his boots as he walked.

His heart sunk.

He realized he’d been unrealistic. He’d been hoping to find a neatly labeled pill bottle of antibiotics.

But instead the shelves were empty and what was left of the pills was literally under his feet.

But maybe it wasn’t all lost.

He bent down and scooped some of the remaining pills into his hands. Maybe he could make out a marking. Some lettering. Something that would tell him what the pills were.

Many of the pills were crushed and their markings were unreadable. He spent some time gathering pills that were intact, and began examining their markings with his flashlight.

He glanced at his watch. Five minutes had already past.

He didn’t want to spend too much time here. Who knew who might come along, or what might happen to the Subaru.

There were pills of all shapes and sizes and colors. Most of the markings meant nothing to him.

Five more minutes went by.

Was that a noise?

It sounded like something had moved. A soft thud.

No, probably nothing. Just something off in the distance.

Jim bent his head down again, putting the pills close up to his eye to get a good look at them.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Jim found a pill that looked familiar.

It was a white tablet. Oblong and fairly large. The markings, on one side only, read PVK. There was an indent that bifurcated the tablet, making it easier to snap in half.

PVK… PVK…

Jim had seen it before.

He held the tablet up to his nostril and inhaled sharply. Not the safest thing to do normally, but it given the circumstances, it made sense.

It was a unique smell.

One that he’d smelled before.

It was penicillin.

He remembered the smell and the taste. And the memory, then, came flooding back.

PVK stood for penicillin-VK. He’d taken it before, years ago, for some problem that he’d now forgotten about.

He didn’t know if they were 500mg or 250mg. There were no numbers on the pill. But that didn’t matter. He’d give them to Aly anyway, and if she wasn’t getting better, he’d double the dose.

Or maybe it’d be better to start off with a higher dose. After all, the risk of taking too much penicillin wasn’t great. As far as he knew.

No time for that now, though.

He placed the one pill carefully in his pocket, bent down further on the floor, and began searching for more.

Now that he knew what he was looking for, it wasn’t as hard.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t just scoop up all the pills there and bolt out of the pharmacy. If he did that, he’d have no idea if he had enough penicillin or not.

One penicillin tablet became two, then three, and pretty soon he had a handful of penicillin.

He didn’t stop there. Not while he had the chance to gather up medicine that might save the life of someone else down the line.

He knew time was passing quickly. He knew he shouldn’t spend too long there in that pharmacy.

But who knew when he’d have another chance like that.

Glancing at his watch, Jim saw that half an hour had passed. He’d been absorbed in the whole process, the collecting.

Finally, he had enough tablets.

Jim stood up.

Suddenly, he realized that he’d been so absorbed in gathering the pills that he’d neglected to keep checking his surroundings.

He shouldn’t have done that.

But he’d be OK. After all, he would have heard if someone had been approaching.

Jim moved cautiously back around the counter and towards the back of the store.

Trash crunched under his boots and he shone his flashlight as a guide.

He was almost to the door that he’d come in through.

“Hands in the air,” came a gravely deep voice.

Jim turned his head to the right where the voice had come from. His Ruger followed the path. And his flashlight.

“Drop it and hands in the air.”

Jim’s flashlight illuminated the man. A regular looking guy. Except that he had a gun in his hand.

An image of Aly flashed through Jim’s mind.

He wasn’t going to leave without those pills.

He had to get back to her.

The guy would rob him. There was no question. Jim saw it in his eyes.

The guy was good. Waiting for him like that. Jim should have noticed.

But the guy had made one crucial mistake. He hadn’t shot Jim dead when he’d had the chance.

Jim saw the guy’s gun moving, tracking towards Jim’s chest.

Jim pulled the Ruger’s trigger. A good fast pull.

The Ruger kicked.

It was a good shot. Right in the stomach.

A whooshing in the air. Jim heard it. But it was too late.

Something hard hit him in the back of the head.

Someone else was there.

Pressure in his eardrums. Blackness overcoming his vision. But just for a moment.

Jim staggered forward, almost falling. But he caught himself at the last moment with his leg.

The heavy thing crashed again, this time into the small of his back.

Pain flashed through him, roaring out in all directions, up and down and across his back. And down his leg.

Jim lurched forward again, but he didn’t fall.

Jim’s face was only a foot away from the man in front of him, who he’d just shot.

There was blood on the man’s shirt, around the stomach. His face was contorted into rage and pain. His hand still clutched his gun.

And he was slowly raising that gun. It cost him a huge effort to do so. But inch by inch it was rising.

In another couple seconds, he’d shoot Jim.

Jim ignored the pain in his back, the black spots that remained in his vision.

He acted more out of instinct than anything.

Jim pulled the trigger again.

The Ruger kicked.

The shot rang out throughout the store.

The bullet struck the man in the face, leaving a grizzly mess where his features had been.

Jim swung around, trying to meet his still unseen attacker.

But he wasn’t fast enough.

Another blow to his back knocked him over. He lost his balance and he tumbled into the corpse of the man he’d just shot.

26

JESSICA

Aly hadn’t been doing well. Jessica had stopped by her room when she’d gone inside to make the instant coffee, and Aly had been awake and moaning in pain.

There was much to do for her, other than dole out a few more tablets of aspirin. She was already taking a lot, and they didn’t want to overdo it. A couple tablets every few hours already was approaching a few grams of aspirin a day.

Too much, and Aly’s blood would get too thin, increasing the possibility that she’d bleed out.

Jessica stood there in the kitchen, waiting for the water to boil on the stove. Aly’s moans of pain were perfectly audible from where she stood.

There just wasn’t anything she could do about it.

She hoped Jim would get back soon. With antibiotics.

If she knew Jim at all, though, she knew he wouldn’t come back without something that would cure his wife. He wasn’t the type of guy to come back empty handed.

Jessica was staring out the window to the trees as the water boiled.

All of a sudden, she saw something.

It was a flash of something. Some color that wasn’t natural. It had been so fast, she didn’t get a good look at it.

Maybe it was yellow. Maybe orange.

Aly’s mind went to the Carpenters.

Her hand went to her Glock. She seized it from its holster.

With her other hand, Aly killed the gas to the stove.

Her eyes scanned the area outside the window, but she saw nothing more.

She listened.

No sounds.

Except for Aly moaning.

Jessica knew she had to act fast.

She moved rapidly to the bedroom, grabbing the rifle where it leaned against the wall in the hallway and slinging it across her back.

“Aly,” she said, grabbing a handgun from the nightstand. “You need to take this. Someone’s here.”

Aly’s eyes were barely open. It was almost impossible to think she’d be able to defend herself with a handgun in that state.

But Jessica figured that if it’d been her in that bed, she’d have wanted to have a gun. After all, if she and Rob died, Aly would be helpless and alone in bed, unable to stand up.

Maybe there was a chance she could raise a gun and get one last shot.

“Here, grab hold of this,” said Jessica, taking Aly’s hot to the touch fingers and wrapping them around the gun.

Jessica turned on her heel and left the room. There was nothing more, after all, that she could say. Nothing that could help.

In her mind, she counted up the Carpenters. There were the parents. Two of them. And three of the adult children.

Five in total.

Five against two.

Not exactly a fair fight.

But since when had fighting, or anything, been fair?

And Rob, despite his efforts, wasn’t anything close to being an expert shot. Or even a competent shot.

Jessica paused by the door, listening, with her ear against it.

Nothing. No sounds.

Her heart was pounding and her grip on her Glock instinctively tightened.

There was only one door to the house. Two would have been better.

If she were going to invade the lake house, how would she do it?

Probably come in through the door.

She could post up near the door, ready to shoot anyone who came through it.

But Rob was out there.

She couldn’t leave him alone.

Jessica threw the door open, staying back and out of the way.

A gunshot rang out from somewhere outside the house. It sounded close.

Another gunshot.

Jessica flattened herself against the wall.

Now there was nothing but silence.

She had to move. Rob was out there.

She poked her head around the corner, looking out the open doorway.

Nothing. No one was there.

Where was Rob?

If only she’d had some way to communicate with Rob. A radio. Or a cell phone.

Something moved in the trees.

It wasn’t the same color she’d seen out the other window. This was a khaki color, like dirty khaki pants.

Rob wore jeans. No khaki. Jim too. It wasn’t one of them.

Jessica didn’t hesitate.

She raised her Glock and squeezed the trigger, tracking the target as it disappeared again into the thick trees, out of view. She anticipated its movement and trajectory.

Two quick shots, and a shout of pain.

Jessica’s ears were ringing as she threw herself back inside the house, out of view of the open doorway.

She waited, counting the seconds.

It sounded like she’d hit whoever it’d been out there.

But there was no way to know if they were dead or not. They’d fallen out of view, hidden by the evergreens. It’d be best to find them, finish them off. As of now, they were still a potential threat.

But there were four more Carpenters out there. She couldn’t waste any time. Best to get them all as far out of commission as possible.

Jessica weighed her options.

Stay in the house. Go out the door. Or go out the window.

Self-preservation told her to stay.

Her duty told her to get out there. Help Rob.

If Rob fell, she knew she and Aly wouldn’t stand a chance. They’d be outnumbered.

Jessica knew that overestimating her own ability could easily see her dead.

She needed to be cautious. But more importantly, she needed Rob alive.

There were five Carpenters. Down to four now, probably. That meant someone was probably out there. They’d heard the gunshots. They’d expect her to be coming for the door.

Now they’d be in position.

Jessica made a split second decision to go for the window on the other side of the house.

She threw the door closed, threw the deadbolt, and pushed a chair up against it, tilting it so that it rested underneath the doorknob. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

She opened and got herself out of it, but not without checking the surroundings. She saw no one and heard nothing.

As soon as her feet hit the ground, she reached up and closed the window. It wasn’t locked, but it was better than nothing to have it closed.

She broke into a run heading straight for the trees.

The house was the target. But if she stayed close to the house, she’d be out in the open while the Carpenters picked her off from the trees.

The only thing to do was to get into the trees herself, and then pick off the Carpenters as they tried to approach the house.

Easier said than done, though.

She was running as hard as she could. The rifle stock was slapping against her back painfully.

She was tired and exhausted and sleep deprived, but adrenaline was coursing through her. Her body was doing everything it could to give her the strength she needed to survive another minute, another hour, maybe even another day.

She was almost to the trees.

Her sneaker caught on something.

A root.

She tripped and fell forward.

Her left hand dampened the fall. But not enough.

Her face hit a rock. Hard. Pain flared through her. She tasted blood. It was flowing freely from her face.

She got up quickly, ignoring everything, and made it behind a drooping evergreen bough.

Good. She was out of view.

She heard the noise too late.

She saw him too late.

It was one of the Carpenters. One of the sons. She recognized his mean face, plastered with that mean look. The look that said he was going to do whatever he had to do, kill whoever he had to kill, in order to feed his family.

That look would be on faces across the nation now. That look would be the last look that countless saw before they died.

He was already raising his rifle.

She reacted without thinking, pivoting slightly and unloading three quick rounds from her Glock without taking aim, shooting almost from the hip.

Two of the bullets missed.

The third struck Carpenter. Or grazed him. She didn’t know.

It wasn’t a good shot.

The bullet had hit his forearm. Blood was coming out.

He yelped in pain, a high-pitched sound that didn’t seem fitting for the situation.

He got off a shot with his rifle.

It missed. But not by much. She felt a whoosh as it passed her.

Jessica was raising her Glock for a good clean final shot.

But he wasn’t going down without a fight.

He screamed something unintelligible as he rushed her, sprinting forward at her with everything he had.

He got to her before she could get off another shot.

It was all happening so fast.

This wasn’t like at the firing range.

Nothing in her training had prepared her for this.

His tall body, much bigger than hers, crashed into her, knocking the Glock off track.

Her finger pulled the trigger. The Glock kicked. But the bullet went off into the air.

Her back hit the ground hard, knocking the breath from her lungs.

There was blood on her face and blood on his arm, all of it mixing together in the struggle.

His mean face was inches from hers.

They struggled together for position.

But he was bigger. And stronger.

His fist slammed into the side of her face.

Now her shoulder.

She couldn’t overpower him.

Now he was going for the Glock.

Her hand still held it, but the muzzle was pointed harmlessly off to the side.

Both his hands grabbed the gun, and he pulled hard.

She held onto it, but her wrist twisted and she yelled in pain.

She didn’t have many options.

Any second now he’d wrench the Glock free from her hands.

She had to think of something.

She had to outsmart him. Outmaneuver him.

27

JIM

Jim fell into the corpse. Pain flared through his back.

The corpse broke his fall.

His hand was still around his Ruger, clutching it tightly.

Blood from the corpse was all over him.

There was a grunt behind him. Sounded like a man.

Jim shifted his weight as hard as he could, spinning himself around.

The ground was wet and slippery with blood.

Finally, he saw the face of his attacker.

The man was coming at him with a piece of some kind of tubing. Probably metal, by the way it had felt.

The light was dim. The flashlight had been dropped to the floor, illuminating some useless corner.

Jim pulled the trigger. The gun kicked.

The bullet struck the man in the stomach. He grunted in pain, but didn’t scream.

And he didn’t drop to the ground.

But it gave Jim the time he needed. He rose up, his boots slick on the bloody floor. But he got to his feet. Unsteady from the pain. His vision shaky and slightly blurred.

Jim didn’t have endless rounds for the Ruger.

The man would bleed out like that. He’d die a horrendous death.

The man staggered forward, towards Jim, who took a step to the side. The man swung the pipe again, but it missed wildly. His eyes were wide and he looked startled, fearful, and intensely angry. His eyes seemed to bore into Jim with nothing but hatred.

The man didn’t seem human.

He seemed like an animal. Ready to take someone else down with him, knowing that he was going to die and not caring anymore what the fight was for or what it was about.

Jim stepped to the side again, easily avoiding the next swing of the pipe.

Jim had to put him out of his misery. Otherwise it meant hours of agony. Intense agony.

But he didn’t want to waste another round.

The right thing to do wasn’t easy anymore. Now that society had fallen, the right thing to do meant something different than it had.

Jim reached into his pocket for his knife, took it out and flicked it open in a single, swift motion.

Jim knew he owed this man nothing. If Jim let him, the man would kill him without hesitation.

But there was something human left in the man. Not long ago, he’d been a member of society on some level. He’d been someone with a name, a social security number, probably a credit card or two.

Jim knew that he himself wasn’t that far away from falling into it all himself, letting the animal survival instinct takeover. A few weeks without food and he’d be just as deranged.

Jim needed to hang onto his humanity.

In whatever way he knew how.

And in this case, it meant slitting this man’s throat to put him out of his misery, to give him, if not a painless death, at least a swift one.

Jim holstered his Ruger and moved fast, springing forward despite the pain.

In mere seconds, he was behind the man, his knife arm around the man’s throat in a semi chokehold.

Jim drew the knife across the man’s neck in one swift motion, pulling back hard on the knife.

The cut was good and deep.

Jim expected the man to drop down, to crumple right to ground.

But that didn’t happen.

The man didn’t die instantly.

Hot blood covered Jim’s hands and the knife. Jim withdrew his hands and took a couple quick steps back.

The man was coughing. But the cough sounded like it was coming through water. He was gargling on his own blood.

The man was gasping, sputtering. He sank to his knees. Blood was everywhere.

Thirty seconds later, the gruesome scene was over, and the man collapsed. Dead.

Jim made a mental note that it hadn’t happened like in the movies.

But it still worked.

Jim looked around him, wiped the blood from his hands onto his pants. He checked his pockets for the penicillin, which was still there. He wiped off his knife and closed it. He examined his Ruger. He opened the cylinder and began to reload it with spare rounds from his pocket.

He needed to get out of there. Who knew what might happen next.

He opened the back door cautiously, leading with his revolver.

The sun, even hidden behind the clouds was bright, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust.

There seemed to be no one out there.

He went around the other side of the pharmacy, heading towards his Subaru in the parking lot.

He was half expecting the Subaru to be missing, or for it to have been ransacked. Or for someone to be waiting underneath it, or even waiting inside it.

But there was no one.

The parking and the nearby road were both deathly silent.

Inside the vehicle with the doors locked and the windows up, Jim got out a map. He was hoping to find a way back to the lake house without passing that intersection where he’d been ambushed by that van.

But there was no other way back.

He’d have to figure out something.

He cranked the engine, put the Subaru into first, and got back on the main road.

Even though everything was the same, it all looked different to Jim than when he’d come into town.

The stopped cars were still in the street. The houses and businesses were still silent. There was still no one in the street.

Jim had known the dangers when coming in. He’d understood the situation mentally.

But now he had a visceral, intensely real, situation to make it all seem different. More frightening. More unreal.

Jim’s clothes were covered in spots of blood and his back hurt so much he couldn’t sit completely upright in the driver’s seat.

The way back seemed shorter than the way in. Before he knew it, he was quickly approaching the intersection where he’d almost been shot.

Some may have stopped the vehicle and paused for a few moments to think. Some may have hesitated.

But not Jim.

Instead, he sped up, heading right towards where he knew the van would be.

He didn’t have a plan.

There was no point in making a plan when he didn’t know what would happen.

28

JESSICA

Jessica was holding her Glock as tightly as she could. The man’s strong hands were trying to wrench it free from her grip.

Her mind was racing a mile a minute, trying to come up with something.

Suddenly, she had it.

She jerked her head sharply, turning it to face the opposite direction.

She let out a fake gasp of surprise. “Rob!” she called out, even though Rob wasn’t anywhere in sight.

It was a classic trick. One that worked in cartoons and movies. And in real life, too.

He turned to look as well, thinking that she’d spotted her friend.

It was all the time Jessica needed.

She leaned her neck forward, opened her mouth wide, and bit down hard on his ear. She tightened her jaws. Hard.

He screamed out in pain.

She tasted hot blood.

His hands let up on the Glock.

Despite her wrist pain, Jessica yanked the Glock hard out of his two hands. Now she had it.

She pushed the Glock’s muzzle right into his torso.

She pulled the trigger.

The gun kicked.

A point blank shot.

He died instantly, his body losing muscle tension, going limp, and now weighing down heavily on her.

She pulled herself out from under him, grabbed his rifle, and dashed off to another tree. She didn’t want to wait around for someone else to shoot her.

She pressed herself against the tree trunk and tried to listen. Her ears were ringing. She heard no other sounds. No gunshots.

She hoped Rob was still alive.

If Rob had killed one of the Carpenters with those gunshots she’d heard, there’d be two Carpenters left. By her count, at least.

If Rob had died from those gunshots she’d heard, there’d be three Carpenters left.

Jessica tried to put herself in the place of the Carpenters. What would she have done if she were them?

Probably try to get in through the front door. Take what they could and leave. Cut their losses.

Then again, the Carpenters had no way of knowing that their family members had died.

Either way, they’d still probably go for the lake house.

And once they found out about the deaths, they’d go for revenge, if their past behavior was any judge.

She had to get back to the front door.

She started running, staying in the trees, taking the long way around the lake house that would take her towards the water. This was the only way she could stay within the cover of the trees.

She was sweating and panting when she got near the front door again, just a few minutes later.

Jessica stayed back, hidden among the boughs of the evergreen trees, waiting for something to happen, for someone to show their face.

Was it possible they were already inside the house?

Probably not, unless they’d gone in through a window. She might have missed the sound of a window breaking during her skirmish.

If they’d gone in through the door, it would have been busted open.

But she could see it there, closed and intact.

A gunshot rang out, breaking the silence.

It had come from the road.

Now at least she knew where the action was.

Another gunshot followed, and Jessica started moving swiftly in that direction. She tried to stay under the cover of the trees as best she could, not straying far from the trunks.

Finally, she saw Rob. He was maybe a hundred yards in front of her, out on the other side of the road. He’d taken shelter behind a tree.

Another hundred yards or so from Rob, off to the left, were the two oldest Carpenters.

It was a standoff. Each side was under cover.

Jessica watched as Mr. Carpenter moved slightly out from behind the trunk, getting off a single useless shot in Rob’s direction. They still hadn’t seen Jessica.

Jessica unslung one of the two rifles from her shoulder, holstered her Glock, and got the sights lined up with Mr. Carpenter.

It’d have to be a clean shot.

But she didn’t think she had the skill to pull off a headshot.

The chest was easier. Less risky.

She had it all lined up.

The safety was off.

She pulled the trigger.

The shot rang out.

Carpenter fell.

His wife screamed, a wail so painful that Jessica thought for a moment that somehow the bullet had hit both of them.

But Mrs. Carpenter was still very much alive.

And it was then that it hit Jessica. She’d just killed not just a husband and father, but two brothers, two sons. She’d almost decimated an entire family.

And it was a family that, before the EMP, while they might not have been the most engaging or polite, they’d been something. They’d been taxpayers, workers, maybe students. They’d been something. A family unit. Humans.

She didn’t let it get to her.

As far as she was concerned, the Carpenters had transformed beyond all that. And it was a choice that they themselves had made.

She felt no remorse. It wouldn’t have made sense.

This was about survival.

A bullet slammed into the tree trunk behind which Jessica was standing.

Mrs. Carpenter wasn’t giving up without a fight.

She was committed to going down with her husband. To die trying to take out someone else with her. Two if she could, probably.

It was senseless.

But it wasn’t meaningless.

Jessica was about to pop out from the other side of the tree trunk to get off another shot when she felt a whoosh of air.

She heard the gunshot a split second later.

Shards of wood exploded out from the tree trunk above her. The bullet had missed her by inches.

More importantly, the bullet had come from the other direction.

It wasn’t just Mrs. Carpenter who was left.

There was another.

Jessica couldn’t hide behind the tree trunk, or she’d be in a perfect position for Mrs. Carpenter to shoot her.

So she started sprinting, heading right towards where the bullet had come from.

She ran in a zigzag pattern. She used the trees as cover.

Another gunshot sounded. Then another.

She was getting closer. She drew her Glock and pointed it forward as she ran.

She had him. She pulled the trigger as she ran. Once, twice. A third time and he was done, lying on his back, not a single spot of blood visible on his clothes.

He was dead.

Another gunshot rang out. The sound of a rifle.

Jessica spun around, hoping against hope to see Rob still standing, and to see Mrs. Carpenter dead behind the tree.

29

ALY

Aly woke up feeling better than she had in days.

For the first time, the world didn’t seem to be a swirl of confusion. She didn’t feel overheated, and she wasn’t sweating.

“You’re awake,” said Jim, putting his hand gently on her outstretched arm. He was seated in a chair next to the bed.

“What happened?” said Aly.

“You’re going to pull through. That’s what happened.”

“I remember getting shot.”

“The wound got infected.”

“She’s awake!” came Rob’s voice from outside the room.

A moment later, he’d thundered into the room. He stood there, his huge frame taking up the entire doorway.

“Was it that bad?” said Aly. “I can’t remember much. I just remember being really hot… everything was confusing. I didn’t know what was going on. I must have been having nightmares. I remember hearing gunshots. Lots of them.”

“That was all real,” said Jim. “When I was gone, the Carpenters came back.”

“They did? That was all real?”

“Very much so. But they’re not a problem anymore.”

“You mean they’re…”

“Dead, yes.”

“And where were you?” said Aly. “It was just Rob and Jessica here with me?”

“He went to Dewittville to get you the antibiotics you needed,” said Rob. “Risked his life, too. Pretty dangerous situation, from what he’s said.”

Aly looked at her husband with a sense of admiration and pride. But Jim merely shrugged his shoulders and said, “I got through it.”

“So what do we do now? What’s going on in Rochester and elsewhere?”

“We don’t have a lot of information,” said Jim. “But if Dewittville is any indication, things aren’t going well for the people in Rochester.”

“They’re dying off,” said Rob. “At least that’s what Jim says.”

“There’s no need to sugar coat it for me,” said Aly.

“I was just trying… you just woke up after all.”

“You think I’m delicate?”

“I didn’t say that,” said Jim.

Aly couldn’t help herself. She laughed, laughed at Jim’s serious expression.

He obviously cared for her. She could see that more clearly now than she had in a long, long time. Maybe their relationship wasn’t as doomed as she’d thought it had been when they’d separated and she’d moved in with her mother.

“So what’s the plan?” said Aly. “Lay it on me. I’ll feel better if I know what’s going on.”

“We’ve started to catch fish from the lake,” said Jim. “Now that the Carpenters are gone, we’ve got a little more freedom. We don’t have to worry about security quite as much.”

“You haven’t had any other visitors?” said Aly.

“I saw someone walking down the road, but that was it,” said Jim.

“And the Carpenter’s house? I hope you got what was there.”

“It was pretty filthy,” said Jim.

“Absolutely disgusting,” said Rob.

“And they didn’t have much food. But we got some useful things. They’re in the living room, already categorized.”

“So you think we’re going to be OK here?”

“Well, until more people start leaving the cities. There isn’t going to be avoiding them. But we’ve got some plans for that.”

“Hopefully that doesn’t happen for a while,” said Aly. “I feel better, but not like I’m ready to fight anyone yet.”

“There’s no telling how long it’ll be,” said Jim.

“Jim keeps saying it’s ‘a question of when, not if,’” said Rob.

Suddenly, Aly realized that no one had mentioned Jessica. She started to feel anxious. Was it possible they were saving the worst news for last?

“And Jessica?” said Aly, her voice sounding low and timid.

“She’s on watch,” said Jim.

“Somebody’s got to do it,” said Rob. “Don’t worry. She’s got a thermos of coffee. We found plenty of coffee at the Carpenter’s house. So no more rationing the coffee.”

“We’ll see about that,” said Jim. “As far as we know, that might be the last coffee we come across.”

“Come on, Jim,” said Rob. “What are we going to do without coffee?”

“I didn’t know you were such a coffee fanatic?”

“You didn’t know that? We’ve only been drinking coffee together for… how many years?”

“You two sound just like you used to,” said Aly, letting out a weak little laugh. The laugh made her bullet wound hurt. But it wasn’t too bad.

Suddenly, Aly heard the front door being thrown open. There were heavy, fast footsteps on the floor.

Jim stood up and drew his revolver.

“It’s Jessica,” said Rob, his head and gun around the corner of the doorway.

Jessica appeared, out of breath and sweating. “We’ve got company,” she said.

“Who?” said Rob.

“How many?” said Jim.

“Just one.”

“One?”

“He says he knows you,” said Jessica, looking right at Aly.

“Me?” said Aly, confused.

“He says he’s your uncle.”

Aly let out a long sigh. She didn’t know what to think. On one hand, she was glad her uncle wasn’t dead. On the other, he’d done nothing but cause problems for the family his entire life. And that was before the EMP. What kind of trouble would he cause now?

“Should I let him in?” said Jessica.

Jim nodded, but Aly noticed that he didn’t put his revolver away.

Jessica disappeared and returned a few moments later, followed by a man that Aly almost didn’t recognize.

Jessica stepped to the side and Aly got a full view of her uncle.

He didn’t speak.

He just looked at her.

And she looked at him, speechless.

It looked like he was back from the dead.

His hair and beard were incredibly long and filthy. His clothes were nothing more than rags. He was emaciated, almost nothing but skin and bones.

His face was filthy, and she could smell the stench of alcohol on him from across the room.

“Where the hell is everything?” he suddenly barked, his voice sounding like he hadn’t used it in months. “My vodka? What the hell have you done to my house? And who’s this guy?”

His return was going to be difficult to deal with, to say the least.

* * *

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About Ryan Westfield

Ryan Westfield is an author of post-apocalyptic survival thrillers. He’s always had an interest in “being prepared,” and spends time wondering what that really means. When he’s not writing and reading, he enjoys being outdoors.

Contact Ryan at ryan@ryanwestfield.com

Copyright

Copyright © 2018 by Ryan Westfield

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Any resemblance to real persons living or dead is purely coincidental. All characters and events are products of the author’s imagination.

Content

Ryan Westfield
FINAL CHAOS
A POST-APOCALYPTIC EMP SURVIVAL THRILLER

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About Ryan Westfield

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