Ryan Westfield

FINAL PANIC

A POST-APOCALYPTIC EMP SURVIVAL THRILLER

1

JIM

It hadn’t been long since the EMP. But it’d been long enough for society to start to unravel. Violence was everywhere. Those who’d survived were in hiding, trying their best to seek out whatever meager existence they could.

Jim, Aly, Jessica, and Rob had taken shelter in Aly’s uncle’s lake house, a couple of hours from Rochester. They’d only barely survived an attack by a neighboring family. Aly had been shot, and when the infection had gotten bad, Jim had ventured outside the relatively calm area of the lake to get the antibiotics she’d needed.

Jim had just barely made it back. And his wife, Aly, had just barely recovered from her infected wound.

It wasn’t like there were any hospitals or doctors they could get to. If the penicillin hadn’t worked, there wouldn’t have been much more they could do.

Shortly after Aly had woken up, her uncle Jordan had reappeared.

It was his lake house that they’d taken shelter in. And, frankly, Jim had been glad to see that Jordan had been gone when they’d arrived.

The brother of Aly’s mother, Jordan was the black sheep of the family. And it wasn’t like he hadn’t earned his reputation. He’d been an alcoholic for years, if not decades, and he’d spit in the face of every opportunity he’d been given. He’d been arrested for minor and major infractions more times than one could count.

How Jordan had even supported himself had always been a mystery to Jim.

Right when the Carpenters had been defeated, when Aly was recovering, when it seemed like the lake house was enjoying a period of relative calm, Jordan had shown up, looking like he’d been through hell.

Jordan was emaciated, looking like he hadn’t eaten in weeks. His hair was longer than Jim remembered, and filthy. He wore a patch beard on his dirty face, and his unpleasant stench filled up the room.

“What the hell did you do to my house?” said Jordan, his lips twisting up viciously.

“Let’s take a step outside,” said Jim, gripping Jordan’s upper arm firmly. “Just you and me. We’ll discuss this. Aly’s weak. She’s still recovering.”

Jordan gave him a stiff nod. Maybe he realized he didn’t have much choice in the matter.

Jim caught Aly’s concerned look as he led Jordan out of the room.

When they were finally outside, out of earshot of everyone else, Jim said, “Where have you been, Jordan? We thought you were dead.”

“Is that why you’ve taken over my house? And thrown everything out?”

Jim just stared at Jordan for a moment, studying his face. There were scratches on his cheek, and what looked like the remnants of a black eye. Had he been in a fight? What had he been doing since he’d disappeared?

“We threw out the trash,” said Jim. “You didn’t exactly keep a clean house. There were empty bottles everywhere, and fast food wrappers. We practically couldn’t move. It was disgusting.”

“You’re not answering my question. What the hell are you all doing here?”

“What everyone else is doing, trying to survive.”

“Trying to survive? Don’t give me that line. That’s what I’ve been doing all my life.”

Something wasn’t adding up. The conversation was strange. But then again, it nearly always was with Jordan.

“We had nowhere else to go. Rochester was becoming dangerous. Fast. We didn’t think you’d mind your niece and husband staying with you, considering the circumstances.”

“You could have called first. Set something up. Isn’t that the way things are normally done? Even these days.”

Suddenly, it was if a light dawned on Jim.

“Don’t you know about the EMP?” said Jim.

“The what?”

“The electromagnetic pulse. It knocked out all electronics. Everything’s down. Society’s falling. And fast. You don’t know, do you? Where have you been?”

Jordan stared at him with a blank expression on his face. “I’ve been getting sober.”

Jim looked Jordan up and down. “You don’t look sober.”

Jordan held out his hand, flat, with the palm down. “Look. It’s not shaking. And I haven’t had a drink in three months.”

“Where were you? You don’t look like you’ve been in rehab.”

“Rehab? That doesn’t work. None of that stuff works for me. I did it my own way. Living rough in the woods.”

“You’re telling me you’ve been living rough in the woods by yourself while trying to kick drinking? For several months? And you’re just coming back to society now, and have no idea what an EMP is or what’s happened?”

Jim wasn’t exactly buying it. It was too far-fetched. But then again, Jordan really didn’t seem to know what was going on.

But did Jordan ever really know what was going on? He was an exceptionally odd guy and always had been.

“Hey there!”

Jim spun his head and reached for his revolver.

Someone was shouting at them, from somewhere down by the road.

Jim and Jordan were standing only partially out of view from the road, next to a large pine tree.

“Get down,” hissed Jim, as he crouched down.

“Get down? What the hell are you talking about?”

Jim’s eyes scanned the area, looking for who had shouted.

“Hey! I see you two over there. Come on, I’m not going to bite.”

Jim finally located the source of the voice. The man was standing on the other side of the road. He was far away, but Jim could make out his clothes.

He wore a police uniform. Pants, shirt, and everything. He even had one of those wide-brimmed hats that highway patrolmen sometimes wore.

Jim’s mind immediately jumped to the cops that he’d been forced to run away from. And to the memory of breaking Aly out of a jail cell in Pittsford.

“What the hell are you doing down there?” said Jordan loudly. “Stand up like a man. You’re scared of a cop? I thought you were on the up-and-up. And what’s all this about society falling apart?”

“I’ll have to explain it to you later,” hissed Jim.

The cop didn’t stop waving, and now he was walking towards them. He took long strides, closing in on them fast.

Jim stayed in the crouching position, with both legs bent. He held his revolver steady and pointed right at the oncoming cop.

2

JORDAN

The story Jordan had told Jim wasn’t entirely true. Well, “not entirely” might even be a stretch.

The part about being away for a long time was true enough. But Jim had already known that.

The rest, well, that was more or less a complete fabrication.

Jordan had actually sobered up quite a bit. But that had purely been by accident.

He’d been having trouble making ends meet for years now. He’d lost one job after the other. And the ones that he had managed to keep, where the boss would tolerate his drinking, well, he had always ended up realizing that he didn’t like working that much. The pay was too low for the effort, he thought.

So, when a job had come along that paid a lot more for a lot less effort, Jordan had jumped at the chance.

He’d left his home at the lake and traveled northeast, up near the Canadian border, where he’d worked growing and harvesting marijuana for some guys he’d met through the local bar.

They’d worked out in the boonies, far away from any stores, and they didn’t like to travel into town much since they were trying to keep a low profile.

Jordan didn’t know quite how he’d gotten more or less sober. Maybe it’d been the work, being outside, less access to alcohol, or the increased availability of pot.

But the reality was he’d only had a couple small nips of vodka yesterday. And none today. That, for him, was as close to sober as he was ever going to get.

He’d been at the pot farmers’ camp when the EMP had hit. Of course, they hadn’t known what it was that had happened.

There’d only been three of them total at the camp. They’d just sold off a good haul the past week, and they’d sort of been sitting around trying to figure out whether to split with the money or stay around and get another crop going. Earning even more money, of course, was tempting.

When the cell phones had gone down, Jordan had seen his opportunity. He hadn’t known it was an EMP. All he’d seen was an opportunity.

He’d taken all the cash and split.

Of course, given his luck, the car had broken down about a hundred yards from the camp. The noise had woken up his “colleagues,” and they’d come after him. He’d had to evade them in the trees, running until he couldn’t run any longer, and hiding when he’d been too exhausted to move.

He hadn’t done badly for a man in his sixties. An alcoholic in his sixties, on top of that. But then again, he’d never really been one of those alcoholics with completely ruined health. Instead, he’d always had that kind of old-time wiry strength that you can’t get from going to a gym or training. It was just something natural to him. He didn’t look muscular, but he was incredibly strong.

His colleagues had chased him through the woods for miles. They’d been desperate for the cash.

In the end, he’d gotten away from them, and without resorting to violence. Which was good. He wasn’t necessarily the violent type. Not that he was a pacifist. Far from it. He’d been in his fair share of bar fights over the years. And while he hadn’t won each brawl, he’d rarely come out without inflicting some serious damage on his opponent.

So, he’d gotten away from them without a fight. Merely by hiding. By being clever. But what had been difficult had been the journey back home. That’s what he’d barely survived.

It hadn’t initially occurred to him that heading back home wasn’t the best idea. After all, they’d be looking for him.

But when he’d gotten close enough to home, without any other plan, he’d said “screw it,” and decided to head home and have a well-deserved drink. Or a couple of drinks.

It had been a weird journey. And it had just gotten even weirder, now with all these people in his house. And the power was out? What the hell was going on? And what was Jim talking about?

Jordan had spent the entire journey home in the woods, avoiding the roads and civilization. Sure, he’d noticed a complete lack of light pollution in the sky at nights, but he’d just shrugged it off. Obviously, his first thought hadn’t been that the power had gone off everywhere and that civilization was on the verge of collapsing.

And now that’s exactly what Jim was telling him was happening. And while Jordan didn’t exactly like Jim, he never figured him for the type of guy to just make stuff up. Jim wasn’t frivolous, and he wasn’t paranoid. In general, he had his head on pretty straight.

And Jim had never seemed like the type of guy to lose his head and go nuts. But then again, stranger things had happened.

And now Jim was there, pointing his gun at a cop. That definitely was something the regular Jim would not do. Unless he’d lost his mind. Or civilization was collapsing and the cops could no longer be trusted.

Jordan had to consider both options.

After all, Jordan’s number one rule had always been to look out for himself. And to protect himself, he either needed to align himself with Jim, until a better opportunity came along, or else he needed to get the hell out of there. Being on the same side as a nutjob with his gun trained on a cop wasn’t exactly where Jordan wanted to be. Especially with his various priors and his extremely checkered past.

“What the hell are you doing, Jim?” snapped Jordan. “You can’t shoot a cop.”

“My worry is that he’s not a cop.”

The cop stopped about ten paces away and put his hands in the air. “I’m unarmed,” he said.

“An unarmed cop?” said Jim, his voice full of suspicion.

“I barely got out of Rochester alive,” said the cop. “They took my gun from me.”

“Who did?” said Jim.

“A mob. I don’t know. Does it matter anymore?”

“A mob?” said Jordan. “What are you talking about?”

“He doesn’t know about the EMP,” said Jim.

“Have you been living under a rock or something?” said the cop.

Jordan said nothing, just nodded vaguely. He was trying to put all the pieces together, his mind working as fast as it could.

“I’m Andy,” said the cop. “By the way.” His hands were still in the air. It seemed like an odd way to introduce himself.

Jim said nothing for several moments. His face was impassive, as if he was thinking deeply.

“Come on, Jim, put the gun down,” said Jordan. “Whatever this EMP thing is, I’m sure we can work it all out. This guy looks like he needs our help. Isn’t that right?”

“I’m just trying to stay alive,” said Andy the cop. “Just a meal, and a place to stay. That’s all I need. I’m trying to rejoin up with the force, or the National Guard. Or the army. I’m just trying to serve my country.”

“Listen to him, Jim.”

“We’re already short on food,” said Jim. “We don’t have room for one more.”

“You mean two more,” said Jordan. “Me plus him. Listen, Jim. Whatever’s going on, it’s my house. And that means I get to choose who we let stay or not.”

Jim was silent, but the changes in his face let Jordan know he’d struck a chord. Jim had always been really hung up on personal property, personal rights, and all that stuff. Much more so than Jordan himself was. Jordan knew how to play right into people’s belief systems. He knew how to manipulate people based on their sense of right and wrong.

Jordan knew which strings to pull. That had always been something he’d been good at, knowing how to get people to do what he wanted.

And in this case, strange as it may have seemed, he wanted the cop to stay with them.

Jordan’s hunch was that the cop really was a cop, even if Jim still seemed suspicious.

If those pot farmers came looking for their money, it’d be good to have an extra guy around. Someone who really knew how to use a gun.

Sure, Jim had his little revolver there. But as far as Jordan knew, Jim didn’t really know how to use it. He’d been a city guy all his life, tinkering away at his little electronic store or whatever it was.

A cop, though, would know how to use a gun. He’d protect Jordan from whoever came looking for him.

Jordan surreptitiously patted the wad of cash that was tucked away safely in his pocket.

He had big plans for that money. Big plans.

“So, what do you say, Jimmy? Put the gun down.”

“How do we know he’s really a cop?”

“He’s got the uniform and everything.”

“Anyone could get that uniform.”

“It fits him and everything. Look at it.”

“Let’s see some ID,” said Jim to Andy the cop.

“They stole my wallet,” said the cop.

“Badge?”

“Yeah, let me see here. I took it off and hid it.”

The cop rolled up one of his torn pant legs and pulled something out of his sock. It was a shiny police badge.

“Looks legit enough,” said Jordan, peering forward.

“All right,” said Jim, grimacing. “But this is on you, Jordan. We’re already having trouble feeding the four we’ve got here.”

“Four? You’ve got four people crammed into my house?”

“They’re guests of your niece. Nothing you can do about it.”

“You could be a little more polite with me. It is my house, after all.”

“New circumstances, new rules,” said Jim.

“Can I put my hands down now?” said the cop.

Jim gave a brief nod.

“I really appreciate it, guys,” said the cop, ambling over. “I thought I was done for. But don’t worry, we’ll get this country back on track. Have you seen any other members of the force around here? Or the military?”

Jim shook his head. “Not around these parts,” he said.

Jim kept talking, but Jordan stopped listening.

There was a rumbling sound off in the distance.

“Sounds like an engine out there somewhere,” said Jordan.

Jim and Andy stopped talking.

It sounded like it might be a large engine.

And it was getting closer.

“You hear that too?” said Jordan.

Jim nodded. He hadn’t put his revolver back in its holster.

“It’s too far off right now to get a good look,” said Jordan. “But I’ll just pop on up to the roof.”

“The roof?”

“Yeah, I go up there all the time. You can see for at least a mile down that way. The way the trees are makes it… I’ll show you.”

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but do you think I could get something to eat soon?” said Andy.

“Stay there,” said Jordan, ignoring Andy.

Around the side of the house, there was an old ladder that lay partially hidden under a pile of dead leaves. Jordan wasn’t a diligent sort of person, and raking leaves had always been the last thing on his mind. He took the ladder, got it up against the house, and started to climb.

From the roof, he could see through the pine trees.

“See anything?” said Jim.

Jordan squinted. He could just make it out.

“It’s an RV,” he said. “A big one. Headed this way.”

“Great,” said Jim. “Just what we need.”

“Wait,” said Jordan. “There’s another one behind it… and another.”

“A caravan of RVs?”

“Looks like it.”

3

ANDY

Andy wasn’t a cop.

And he’d never been one.

Of course, he wasn’t planning on telling anyone that.

It wasn’t like he was innocent. He hadn’t just happened upon some dead cop and taken the uniform because he’d had to.

No, he’d killed the cop. He was guilty. Very guilty.

It hadn’t been his first option. But he hadn’t had any others.

It had happened just yesterday. Andy’d been cooped up in his little apartment with the lights out, waiting for everything to go back to normal. He’d been waiting for the world to start turning again.

He’d been scared. Petrified and shaken right to his bones.

He’d been desperately hoping it’d all been a dream, that someone would pinch him, he’d wake up, and everything would be normal once again.

But nothing like that had happened. He’d been running low on water, and his food had run out days earlier.

He’d heard the noises outside, the screams and the chanting. He’d heard gunshots, and the occasional roaring of an engine screaming along the road.

The cop had broken into his apartment, probably doing what everyone else had been doing, which was looking for food and water. Or maybe he’d just been doing his job, hunting down a crook, or trying to secure the peace.

Andy had decided he wasn’t going down without a fight. Not only that, but he’d decided that it was time to act. Time to take what he needed. No matter whether it was right or wrong.

He knew he wasn’t going to wake up. He knew it wasn’t a dream. Nothing was going to change unless he changed it.

And so, when the cop had broken in and flashed his badge, Andy had done what he’d had to do. Or what he’d decided was necessary.

He’d rushed the cop, taking him by surprise with a kitchen knife. He’d stabbed hard and fast, right in the cop’s stomach.

It wasn’t until the cop was lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood, slowly dying as he bled out, that Andy felt a twinge of guilt.

But he’d rationalized the whole thing to himself, telling himself that the cop was a bad egg, a bad cop through and through. Why wasn’t the cop out there, trying to serve and protect, instead of looking for food for himself?

Andy created a wholly imagined narrative for the cop. Andy could only justify it all to himself if the cop really was bad. And with no way to really know, he’d simply decided.

The human mind was capable, he realized then, of incredible things. Incredible patterns of belief. Incredible conviction in the face of overwhelming evidence. Incredible systems of justification.

Killing the cop had been a turning point for him.

Before that, he’d been frightened, waiting alone in his apartment, waiting to die.

Before the EMP, he’d had a normal job. He’d been an insurance salesman. He hadn’t been anything special, and he hadn’t tried to be. He’d been completely content to go to work in the morning, head to the grocery store after work, and spend the evening relaxing at night by himself in front of the television.

He’d hadn’t thought much about his lifestyle. But looking back on it now, it seemed as if it was all too easy. If he’d forgotten to pick up something at the grocery store, there was a phone app for that, and the food would be delivered to his door only minutes later.

Everything had been taken care of. If there was a problem with the plumbing, it was a simple call to the landlord.

If there was a problem with his body, it was a simple trip to the doctor. And a simple pill from the pharmacy to fix it all.

Andy recognized that the EMP had changed all that. It’d never be like that again.

The old system had vanished in the blink of an eye. Andy was smart enough to understand that.

And the new way of life would be hard. Everyone would have to do everything themselves. There’d be no more deliveries. No more ease. No more getting someone else to take care of one’s problems.

He’d have to take care of himself.

Complete self-sufficiency.

A terrifying prospect.

So, as he’d sat there next to the dying cop, who mumbled something incoherently, Andy made up his mind to survive by whatever means necessary.

But what skills did he have?

Practically none.

Except for his ability to sweet talk people into deals.

He’d been good at his job. He could sell people policies they’d never need in a thousand years. He knew what to say, and how to find the right people. It was like he had an innate radar for picking saps.

So the easiest thing to do would be to trick people. Trick them into getting what he wanted. What he needed. What he desired.

With just a little bit of cleverness, he could approximate his old life, despite the craziness of this new world.

Maybe food wouldn’t be delivered to his doorstep, maybe he wouldn’t be able to get a pill from the doctor for whatever ailed him, but he could certainly create a situation in which things were easier for him, where others could do the real work for him.

That’s when he’d had the idea to steal the cop’s uniform and integrate himself into a community that had everything pretty much already figured out.

Andy had heard about survivalists before the EMP. He’d read the occasional article about some guy building a bunker and he’d just chuckled to himself. He’d seen the occasional piece on the evening news about a community of survivalists preparing for the worst. And again, he’d just chuckled, knowing that day would never come.

But now, those people didn’t seem so crazy after all.

And they were out there, those survivalists. They were sitting pretty now, having done all the work years in advance.

So how could Andy get in on that? How could he take what wasn’t supposed to be his?

The idea stayed with him all through his journey out of the city. He knew he had to get out into the boonies, where he was more likely to find a group with a good setup. They weren’t going to be hanging out in downtown Rochester, that was for sure.

It’d been a long journey out of Rochester and to the lake house.

He’d found it more or less by accident.

It had been a magnificent stroke of luck.

One that he wasn’t about to give up.

The uniform he wore would give him prestige and authority. Or so he hoped.

He had no intention of doing what he’d said and joining up with the police or the National Guard and trying to heal the country. That had just sounded like a good, believable line, one that would make him more convincing.

From what Andy had seen on his way out of Rochester, the country was done for. Screwed. Toast. Completely destroyed.

The only thing to do from this point on was to look out for himself.

If he played his cards right, he could get a really nice setup for himself. And without much work.

He’d have to see if these people here really had something good going on. If it seemed like they might actually end up surviving, Andy would ingratiate himself into the group as best he could. And then, when the moment was right, he’d do what he had to do to make things better for himself.

If they didn’t seem like they’d survive, well, he’d take what he needed from them and move on to greener pastures.

He’d kill again if he had to. Sure, killing that cop had been a shock to his system. But it had been a good shock, like a breath of fresh air.

He’d do it again if he had to. And it wouldn’t shock him. Instead, it would invigorate him, give him the energy he needed to keep going on.

4

JESSICA

“What’s going on?” said Jessica, stepping out through the door and seeing a stranger there standing in a police uniform.

Her internal defenses immediately went up. Who was this guy? Was he really a cop? What was he doing here?

“How many RVs now?” Jim was saying.

“Four, I think,” called out Aly’s uncle Jordan from the rooftop.

“You think?” said Jessica sarcastically.

“It’s hard to see through the trees.”

“Who’s he?” said Jessica, gesturing to the man wearing a cop uniform.

“A cop, apparently,” said Jim. “Aly’s uncle wants us to let him stay with us.”

“With us?”

Jim nodded, but he didn’t look happy about it.

“That’s crazy,” said Jessica, who didn’t have any problem voicing her opinions in front of the stranger, even if he was a cop, and even if it was rude to do so. “We’re going to have enough trouble with the addition of Aly’s uncle.”

“I know,” said Jim. “But he’s right. It’s his house.”

“So, what are we going to do?”

They were standing a little away from the others now, speaking in low voices to one another.

“I don’t know,” said Jim. “Either stay here, or leave.”

“Aly’s in no condition to leave,” said Jessica.

“I know, I know,” said Jim, sounding stressed. “And we don’t have anywhere to go, either.”

“There are plenty of places to go,” said Jessica. “Think of all the houses that are going to be abandoned now. People are going to be fleeing, looking for a better place, a place where they can survive.”

“Exactly,” said Jim. “And if they’re leaving, it’s either out of panic or for a good reason. I don’t see someone leaving a house that has everything they need. So what are we going to do? Move into some abandoned house that wasn’t good enough for someone else? Where else are we going to find a spot near a lake, where we can fish, and get water?”

The sound of the approaching RVs was loud now. Jessica could clearly hear their engines.

A second later, the first one appeared at the end of the driveway. It was large, and it looked fairly new.

The RV drove fast, kicking up dirt and dust as it passed the driveway.

Another RV followed, then another, and another. Making four in total.

Jessica looked at Jim. “What do you think they’re doing here?”

Jim shrugged. “The same thing as everyone else. Looking for a place to survive.”

“What should we do?”

“Check it out,” said Jim.

“Sounds good,” said Jessica, readjusting the rifle strap that was slung over her shoulder.

“Not you,” said Jim. “I’ll go alone.”

“We don’t know who they are. You need backup.”

“We need someone here.”

“Rob’s here. It’ll be fine.”

“All right, come on. We’ll take the path through the trees by the shore. They won’t see us coming.”

Jessica started walking towards the lake, heading towards the path. Jim stayed back for a moment, saying something to the two new men, and then he jogged to catch up with her.

“You’ve got the binoculars?” said Jessica.

“Yeah,” said Jim.

They walked in silence in single file, following the narrow path that twisted through the pine trees.

The sun, as usual, was hidden behind the clouds. It was a gray day, as most of them were.

Occasionally, as they walked, Jessica caught glimpses of the lake. The water lapped gently against the shore. The lake wasn’t large enough to have real waves, but the ripples moved gently this way and that, giving her a peaceful sensation that was at odds with the situation.

Jessica’s mind was all over the place, running this way and that.

She didn’t think much about what was about to happen, about the newcomers in the RVs. They’d have to deal with whatever happened.

Instead, she thought about the future, about the practical things that they hadn’t quite figured out yet. Like water purification, fishing, and ongoing medical care.

The winter loomed large in her mind. Upstate New York winters were notoriously difficult. And that was with modern technology, with heat, with food in the supermarkets only a short drive away, with sophisticated medical care only a phone call away.

How would they fare once the winter came? Sure, they had several months before the first frosts rolled in. But they couldn’t simply wait without planning, pretending that it wouldn’t happen. They’d have to gather wood, figure out how to heat the small house. They’d have to gather enough food and figure out how to store it. They’d have to figure out how much food the lake could provide, and then drill a hole through whatever ice formed so that they could keep fishing through the winter.

They’d have to worry about their clothing, about boots, about the small countless winter issues that would become amplified into huge problems.

Up in front, Jim stopped. He held up his hand with his fist closed, signaling for Jessica to stop as well.

She already had her rifle in her hands. Her Glock was in its holster, fully loaded.

They’d walked only a small part of the way around the lake.

Jessica looked around carefully, but she didn’t see anything.

Not yet.

“You see them?” she said, speaking in a low voice.

“I see the corner of one of the RVs. You see? Over there, by the beach.”

Jessica looked, and sure enough, she saw the dim sunlight glinting off the fender of one of the RVs. They were still far off.

“It looks like they might be parking near the beach. There’s a big parking lot.”

Jessica nodded. She’d seen the beach only from the distance. From where they stood, they could see the beach across part of the lake, where the shore curved around.

“Should we keep going? What’s the plan?”

“Yeah,” said Jim. “We’re going to run into them sooner or later if they’ve decided to set up a more or less permanent camp here. And that’s probably what they’re doing. So, we might as well confront them now.”

“Confront them? You mean just like walk up and introduce yourself?”

“Basically,” said Jim. “But I want to get closer first. Check to see if they look like they’re carrying weapons, that sort of thing. Get a read on them.”

Jim had spent time here before the EMP, and he knew the lake better than anyone except Aly, and presumably her uncle, too. He explained that there was a path that would take them around to the other side of the parking lot where the RVs were parked. They could stay behind the trees for most of the way, only having to cross the road once.

Jessica agreed to the plan, and they spent another five or ten minutes walking along the path. The only time they were exposed, out of cover, was when they crossed the road. But there seemed to be no one there.

When they were in position, they could see all four RVs lined up in the parking lot.

“What now?” said Jessica.

“Wait and watch,” said Jim.

And that’s what they did.

They watched the parked RVs closely. They took turns passing the binoculars back and forth.

The idea was for one of them to always be the “spotter,” similar to how snipers worked in the military. That way, someone couldn’t sneak up on them easily.

“What do you think they’re doing?” said Jim.

There were a half dozen people or so gathered around the RVs. They were shuffling around, dragging things like coolers and tents around. It was hard to tell exactly what they were doing.

“I don’t know,” said Jessica. “I’d say they’re setting up camp, but that doesn’t make sense. Wouldn’t they just sleep in their RVs?”

“That’s what I was thinking,” said Jim.

The people around the RVs looked normal enough. They were in their forties, fifties, and sixties. There were men and women, wearing shorts, pants, t-shirts. Just normal clothing.

“OK,” said Jim. “They don’t look too dangerous. I’m going to go see what’s up.”

Jessica nodded and watched as Jim holstered his revolver, stood up, and started walking towards them.

She waited, rifle in her hands, ready to back him up if need be. From that distance, she was confident that she could get off a good shot or two if needed.

But she hoped they weren’t dangerous.

If they were, Jim would be in a bad position. He’d be outnumbered, and there was only so much he could do with his revolver, and so much Jessica could do with her rifle.

5

ALY

Aly wasn’t feeling that well. But she was better than she had been.

The return of her uncle was a huge surprise. Honestly, she’d assumed he was dead.

He’d just come into her room again, after having stepped outside with Jim.

“You don’t smell like alcohol,” said Aly, not able to contain the surprise in her voice.

Her uncle Jordan laughed. His open mouth was full of food. He had a couple packets of crackers that he was jamming into his mouth as fast as he could.

“Careful,” said Aly. “We don’t have an endless supply of those, you know.”

“I haven’t eaten in days,” said Jordan. “I’m about to pass out from hunger.”

“Did you quit drinking or something? You don’t sound drunk.”

“Something like that,” said Jordan, shrugging his shoulders. “You know how it goes.”

“I don’t,” said Aly, her voice sounding harsh.

But she didn’t blame herself. Jordan had been nothing but a problem for her family since she could remember. They’d been so many frantic midnight phone calls, so many trips to the emergency room. So many family crises that never seemed to resolve, no matter how much effort her mother and father put in. More than she could count.

Aly watched from her bed as her uncle put his muddy shoes up on the edge of the bed, instantly dirtying the sheets with mud and filth.

“Make yourself comfortable, why don’t you?” said Aly.

“Hey, it’s my house,” said Jordan.

“What, are you going to kick us out?”

“Well, your husband keeps talking about some kind of apocalypse thing. So I don’t think I can in these circumstances.”

“But you would otherwise?”

“What difference does it make?” said Jordan, his mouth still full of crackers.

There were cuts and scrapes on his face. There was dirt in his overgrown hair.

He looked disgusting.

“Why don’t you go take a bath in the lake or something?” said Aly.

“The lake? I think I’ll take a shower, like a normal person.”

“Maybe you didn’t catch on yet, but nothing works.”

“The shower doesn’t work?”

Aly shook her head.

There was silence in the room for a few moments.

“How’s your mother doing?” said Jordan. “I kept meaning to call her…”

“She’s dead,” said Aly.

“Dead?”

Aly said nothing. She’d already told him. She didn’t see the need to keep repeating herself.

“Wow,” said Jordan.

A man appeared in the doorway. He wore a cop uniform.

“You got any more of that beef jerky here?” he said. His mouth was also full. It looked like sardines, maybe.

Aly just looked at her uncle for an explanation.

What was that guy doing, eating all their food? A complete stranger.

If she’d been feeling more like herself, she would have done something about it.

But each new worrying thought seemed to make her feel weaker. She didn’t, after all, think that she could even get out of bed.

“That’s Andy. He’s going to be staying with us,” said Jordan. “I already talked to your husband about it.”

“And he was OK with it?”

Jordan nodded. “Well, not really. But it’s my house.”

“What about the jerky?” said Andy.

Aly shook her head. “We’ve got to save that,” she said. “We’re on tight rations. We don’t just go eating everything in sight when we feel like it. It’s not like we’re going to get that food again.”

“Lighten up,” said Jordan. “We’re both starving. What? You want us to drop dead?”

“Where’s Jim?”

Jordan shrugged. “I don’t know. Went off to talk to some RV people or something.”

“Well,” said Aly, after a long pause. “You know, I didn’t really expect to see you again.”

“I’ve always been the black sheep of the family. Your mother always treated me like dirt.”

“That’s not true…” said Aly, interrupting him.

But he continued. “But keep in mind. This is my house. You’re my guest here. So things are going to go the way I want them to go. And I say that our guest here, this valiant policeman, well, he can eat as much as he wants.”

“But you don’t even understand what’s going on,” said Aly.

She started to explain about the EMP, about how everything was down. All the systems.

“Everything?”

“Yeah,” said Aly. “It was hard for me to believe at first, too. But that’s the way it is.”

“I’m sure it’ll all come back on,” said her uncle.

“That way of thinking is going to get us killed,” said Aly. “If things keep sliding in the direction they’ve been sliding, we’re going to be lucky to be alive. And we can’t expect the power to suddenly come back on.”

“I don’t know,” said Jordan. “Things always have a way of working out.”

“That kind of attitude could be the death of us all.”

“You sound so much like your mother.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” said Aly.

“I don’t mean to interrupt this little family drama,” said Andy the cop. “But what’s been going on around here? The lake, I mean. It was crazy back in Rochester. I barely got out alive.”

“Why aren’t you with the force there?” said Aly.

He waved his hand. “It’s a long story,” he said. “For another time. Tell me what’s been going on here.”

Aly told him briefly about the Carpenters, how she’d been shot, and the battle that had taken place with them.

“And nothing else happened? No one else is around here? No gangs? No police?”

Aly shook her head. “We’ve been lucky so far.”

“Hey!” shouted a male voice from outside the bedroom.

Aly heard the front door squeaking on its hinges. It took her a second to realize it was Rob’s voice.

“Rob?” she called out.

Rob appeared in the doorway, sweating from head to toe. His hair, a little longer than he normally kept it, was drenched and plastered against his forehead. In another context, his appearance would have been funny.

But now, it made her heart leap with fear.

“What is it?” she said.

All heads were turned, facing Rob.

“There’s someone out there,” he said. “Someone with a gun.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. Where’s Jim? And Jessica?”

“They’re off to investigate some RV thing.”

“Shit,” muttered Rob.

“Well,” said Jordan, standing up and tapping Andy the cop on the arm. “You’re the cop. Why don’t you get out there and see what’s going on? Give him your gun, Rob.”

Rob shook his head. “No way,” he said.

“Well, how’s he going to defend us without a sidearm? As I understand it, his was taken in the line of duty.”

“Uh, that’s right,” said Andy, looking nervous. “Look, I don’t think going out there in uniform is the best approach. Maybe he’ll just leave.”

“What?” said Jordan. “What happened to bravery and all that? Bravery in the line of fire?”

“Well, it’s just that…”

There was a loud knock at the door.

“Anyone in there?” came a rough, male voice.

“He’s here,” whispered Rob.

Jordan didn’t sound nervous. He wasn’t talking like he was nervous, but when Aly glanced at him, she saw that he was sweating. Beads of perspiration had accumulated on his brow. And his hand, which he was trying to conceal close to his body, was shaking almost violently.

“I’ll deal with this,” said Rob, taking a deep breath and turning back around to head out of the room.

6

JIM

Jim didn’t want to approach them with a gun drawn. For all he knew, they weren’t violent people and weren’t armed themselves. And if that was the case, the presence of a gun might cause them to become fretful. And even violent.

No, it was better to try the peaceful approach first.

He knew he was taking a risk approaching them like this. It was just him against a group of an untold number.

But at least he was just risking himself.

Then again, if something happened to him, it’d put the rest of the lake house group, his wife included, at greater risk.

He sighed. Everything seemed wrong, no matter how he looked at it.

He tried not to think about Aly’s uncle and the new cop stranger. It was strange. A strange situation, and the more he thought about it, the more he didn’t like it.

He’d have to do something. Think of something. Come up with some plan.

But he’d worry about that later.

Up ahead, he could see the RV folks more clearly. It looked like they were setting up a grill.

They didn’t look dangerous. One of the men wore shorts and boat shoes. He looked like a guy on vacation.

If there hadn’t been the EMP, it would have looked totally normal. Just some friends with some RVs gathering around a nice lake for a cookout.

But that’s not the way things were.

“Hey there,” shouted Jim, when he was within earshot of the RVs.

He waved his hand. A big wave. Trying to make it look as friendly as he could.

He didn’t want to catch them off guard.

Everyone stopped what they were doing.

Jim held both hands up in the air, trying to show that he wasn’t holding a weapon. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

It took them a long moment to respond. All of the men and women seemed to look to one man who was taller than the rest, as if he was the leader. He had short, close-cropped hair on the sides, and was bald on top. He was clean-shaven, wore flip-flops and a polo shirt along with khaki shorts. He looked like he might have worked at a bank or a credit union, or even in one of the financial institutions on Wall Street.

The tall man stepped away from the grill that he was setting up and beckoned Jim to come over with a wave of his hand.

“What can I do for you?” said the man.

The others parted as Jim approached. They stood around the tall man and Jim in a semi-circle.

It seemed like a strange question, given the circumstances.

“I saw your RVs approaching from my house,” said Jim. “And since it seemed like you were setting up camp, I just thought I’d come by and see…”

“And see what our intentions were?” said the man, with a slight frown.

“Basically,” said Jim. “Don’t take it the wrong way. But you never know who’s going to be peaceful and who isn’t.”

The man nodded, as if he was deep in thought. “Well,” he said. “What can I say? We’re in the same boat as everyone else.”

“Were you on vacation when it happened?” said Jim.

“Yeah, a summer thing for folks with RVs.”

“Where were you?”

“Up in Canada.”

“And what’s happening up there? We haven’t had any news of the outside world at all.”

“It’s the same everywhere, from what we’ve seen. We kept away from the cities. But there are people everywhere, stragglers, wandering the roads. People in distress. People in bad shape. All sorts of injuries. Starvation.”

“Any sign of the police? Of the National Guard? Or whatever Canada’s equivalent is?”

The man shook his head. “Nope,” he said. “Nothing.”

“And what’s your plan?” said Jim.

“Well, basically to stay here. We can fish here and it’s relatively peaceful. I’m assuming that’s why you chose this spot as well.”

“Well, that and we already had a house here.”

“I figure there’s plenty of fish for all of us,” said the man.

“Yeah,” said Jim. “It’s a big lake. The thing I’m worried about is others coming. People who are less friendly. Did you run into anyone like that?”

“Well, we’ve been driving around the country for years. We know the area well, and we stayed out of the trouble spots. But we heard rumors.”

“Rumors of what?”

“Gangs, basically. Criminal organizations taking hold. Controlling the remaining resources.”

Jim nodded. “The cities are going to be a disaster.”

“It’s not just the cities. It’s all over. They’re spreading out.”

“Hey,” said Jim, switching tracks. “I guess you managed to get fuel for your RVs?”

The man nodded. “My friend over there is a very clever engineer. Worked for a top firm in Canada. He rigged up a hand-crank pump that could get the fuel up from the tanks in the ground. But…”

“But what?”

“It was getting too dangerous.”

“Too dangerous just being out there, on the road?”

“Well, that, and the gas stations were getting dangerous. Plenty of people hanging around, either trying to loot the stores or just trying to rob and kill those who came by looking for gas.”

“So there are plenty of vehicles still working on the road?”

“Enough,” said the man. “I’d guess about ten percent.”

Jim nodded.

Things were looking good, as far as Jim was concerned. This man seemed reasonable, and he didn’t seem prone to violence. It seemed like he had a good head on his shoulders. For now, he was a source of good information about the outside world. Maybe later, they could team up and work together to survive.

“I’m Jim, by the way,” said Jim.

“Liam.”

They shook hands.

“So,” said Liam, his tone of voice changing. “Are you here with anyone?”

Jim didn’t know what to make of the question. Had the man spotted Jessica?

Liam seemed to sense his confusion, starting to speak again, to explain further. “I just mean—are you married?”

“Uh,” said Jim. “Yeah.” It seemed like a strange question. “Why are you asking?”

“Well, what I didn’t mention before is that the reason we meet up every summer in Canada is that we’re all members of a special organization.”

“A special organization?”

“Yeah, I won’t bore you with the name. It’s just an acronym for a long-complicated term. But what it boils down to is that we’re all swingers. And we meet up in the summer to swap partners in the wilderness, away from prying eyes.”

“Uh, OK,” said Jim. “I mean, good to know, I guess.”

Swinging wasn’t something Jim was into. It seemed a little strange. But as far as he was concerned, it wasn’t really any of his business how these people managed their love lives.

Jim found himself looking around at all the people who were gathered around himself and Liam. He hadn’t noticed before, but they were an equal number of men and women. The men, for the most part, had their arms possessively draped over the women who were presumably their partners.

They were all attractive individuals, athletically built.

“You see,” said Liam. “I’m a professor. Or I was, I suppose that’s all over with now. And my partner and I don’t get to practice our… hobby… as much as we’d like to during the school year. So every summer we like to let loose and go a little crazy, if you know what I mean…”

“That’s great,” said Jim, cutting him short. “But what does this have to do with me?”

“Oh,” said Liam, attempting to sound like he was making an off-hand comment. “I just thought now that society has collapsed, or is collapsing, or whatever, someone like you might want to join in the fun. You and your wife, I mean.”

“No thanks,” said Jim.

Liam wasn’t paying attention, however. He was looking behind Jim at something else.

Jim turned around to see what it was.

It was Jessica, strolling towards them.

Jim wasn’t in the habit of looking at other women. His wife, in his eyes, was the most attractive woman he’d ever seen. And he didn’t buy into the axiom of “looking never hurt anyone.”

But from an objective standpoint, Jessica was an extremely attractive young woman. With the extreme food rationing, she’d slimmed down even more, but still managed to retain her curves.

Her hips were wide and her whole body seemed athletic and purposeful.

“Is this your wife?” said Liam, his voice low and strange sounding. The sound of it alone gave Jim the creeps.

Jim didn’t like the vibes he was getting from Liam.

“No.”

All the men and women surrounding Jim and Liam had turned their attention to Jessica.

“Everything OK?” said Jessica, her rifle in her hands. She came up and stood next to Jim.

“I think so,” said Jim.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” said Liam, reaching out his hand. “I was just inviting your friend here to participate in one of our parties.”

“Parties?” said Jessica, looking at Liam’s hand with a confused look on her face. Eventually, she extended her own hand.

Instead of shaking it, Liam took her hand in both of his, and bent down and kissed it gently.

“Watch it,” said Jessica, pulling her hand away.

“I was just telling your friend Jim here that with the world ending and everything, we’re just looking to have some fun. Worship the bacchanalians while Rome burns in the background.”

Jessica shot Jim a confused look.

“We’ve got to be going,” said Jim.

“Not just yet,” said Liam, taking a couple steps forward so that he stood close to Jessica.

He reached out and put his hand on her thigh, just resting it there awkwardly.

But his hand was only there for mere seconds before Jessica grabbed his wrist. She pushed it off of her leg roughly.

And she didn’t stop there.

Her hand formed into a tight fist, she swung her arm out hard and fast. Her fist collided with Liam’s face.

He stumbled back, but didn’t fall.

“Well, well, you’re a sassy one,” he said, as he fished into his pocket for a handkerchief that he held against his mouth.

Blood appeared on his lip.

Jessica was standing there, her hand inching towards her Glock’s holster. There was fire in her eyes and an intense expression on her face.

The door to the one of the RVs swung open.

A buxom woman stepped out. “Liam!” she said. “What’s happened?”

“Just a little misunderstanding,” said Liam, laughing. “I forgot to introduce you to my partner, Julia.”

“We’ll have to save the introductions for another time,” said Jim. “We’re leaving.”

“Have it your way,” said Liam, his lip starting to swell up, affecting his voice. “But I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other soon enough.”

Jim grabbed Jessica’s hand and pulled her away. He was worried she was going to start a fight.

They walked swiftly away, and Jim kept turning back to make sure that Liam and the others weren’t following them.

“What the hell was that all about?” said Jessica. “Who is that creep?”

“Some guy named Liam.”

“I got that much,” said Jessica.

“He was a professor somewhere. They’re swingers.”

“Swingers?”

“Yeah, you know… they swap partners.”

“Gross,” said Jessica.

“Whatever floats his boat,” said Jim. “But my worry is that he’s going to get us all involved. He seems intent on enjoying the apocalypse, rather than trying to survive it.”

“Well, I’m not interested.”

“I gathered that much. But now we’re going to have to keep an eye out for them. I don’t like having these creeps here on the lake with us.”

“Are they following us?”

Jim glanced back around again. “Doesn’t seem like it,” he said. “But they do outnumber us quite a bit. If they decide to attack…”

“I didn’t see any weapons.”

“Doesn’t mean they don’t have any. They managed to survive on the road down from Canada. That means they’ve got something up their sleeves that they didn’t want to show us.”

7

ROB

“Step away from the door,” called out Rob.

He put his eye to the peephole. The muscular man he’d seen in the driveway stepped back away from the door. He put his hands in the air.

But he obviously wasn’t going away.

Rob had to deal with this.

He was nervous. His hand was sweating, and he tightened his grip on his handgun. He didn’t want it to slip.

He wiped sweat away from his brow.

It was an unusually warm day by upstate New York standards.

Rob threw the door open and stepped back. “Stay where you are,” he said in a loud voice, practically shouting.

The man grinned at him. A weird reaction, considering the situation.

Rob noticed for the first time that the man had tattoos running up his neck. He wore a simple t-shirt and jeans.

“What do you want?” said Rob.

“I’m a messenger.”

“A messenger? What the hell are you talking about?”

The man just grinned at him.

Rob pointed the gun at the man’s chest. It was a clear message. He wanted to show that he meant business.

“Let’s try this again,” said Rob. “Tell me why I shouldn’t shoot you right now.”

“Because I’m part of something bigger,” said the man. “I’m just one head of the hydra. Just one part of the beast. Cut off one head and the rest comes back, stronger than you could ever imagine.”

“Speak to me straight,” said Rob.

“I am. What more do you want?”

“I want answers. You’re just giving me questions.”

“There’s a new tide coming. A new wave. A new ocean, even. A new law and order. A new resurgence. Everything will change. Nothing will be the same. The world will be fire and nothing more. And it will all be under our control.”

Rob had had enough of this nonsense.

“You’re in a gang, is that it? Is this your idiotic credo or something?”

The man looked Rob in the eye, pointedly spat on the ground.

A split second later, the man had turned around and was sprinting in the other direction.

He’d gotten on Rob’s nerves. And he’d given what seemed like a threat. Maybe not an explicit threat. But a threat nonetheless.

Rob wasn’t having it.

He started running after the guy. His feet were slamming into the ground. His arms were pumping.

But the guy was already putting considerable distance between them. And it had been mere seconds.

Rob was already out of breath. He still had a lot of extra weight.

His muscles were already burning.

He was in better shape since the EMP than he had been in years. But not in good enough shape.

There was no way Rob was going to catch up to him.

But he couldn’t let him get away.

What if that guy came back with his gang?

For the first time in his life, Rob actually felt responsible for something. He was responsible for the lives of Jim, Aly, and Jessica.

He was doing his best to live up to his new responsibilities.

Back before the EMP, he was always losing jobs because he shirked his responsibilities. But that was because the responsibilities weren’t real. They were just things that some boss told him to do. They were just things that he had to do to make someone other than himself some money. All he got out of it was a few measly dollars that he usually had to spend on beers after work just in order to relax.

Now, the responsibilities were real. Lives were on the line.

He felt like a new man.

And this new man wasn’t going to let this guy get away.

Now he had resolve. He’d never had that before.

Rob stopped dead in his tracks.

He planted his feet.

He brought his arms up. Straight out in front of him. Both hands on his handgun.

He took careful aim.

He took a shallow breath, holding it in as he squeezed the trigger.

The shot was a good one. Excellent, really.

The bullet struck the running man in the leg. Back of his thigh.

He screamed, lost his balance as he tried to keep running forward. His limbs went flailing, all lost together in a jumble.

The man hit the ground hard, his arms folding under him and failing to protect his face from the gravel driveway.

Rob was over there in a flash. He pushed his knees into the small of the man’s back, putting all his significant weight onto him.

Rob didn’t waste his breath on talking. First, he frisked the man, going for his pockets, ankles, and under the shirt, in case there was a holster.

Rob found a knife in a pocket. A cheap gas-station flipper, with flimsy-looking steel and a weird handle that’d been molded in China out of the cheapest materials.

In the other pocket, Rob found a gun.

“You should have pulled this on me,” growled Rob, pocketing the gun after checking to make sure that the safety was on.

The man grunted something.

“What’s that?” said Rob. “I can’t hear you.”

Rob got up for a second, grabbed the man’s shoulders roughly and flipped him over so that he lay on his back. Rob got back down, pressing his knees into the man’s stomach and chest.

“Now you’re going to tell me exactly what you meant by those threats,” growled Rob.

The man tried to speak, but Rob’s weight was too much for him.

Rob let up a little, adjusting his knees so that the man could speak.

“I’m not telling you anything.”

“You’d better,” said Rob. “Because it doesn’t make any difference to me whether or not I shoot you dead.”

Rob pushed the muzzle of his gun into the man’s temple. Hard.

Rob wasn’t really that much of a tough guy. But he knew that his size and shape were intimidating enough. He knew that if he acted a certain way, people would think he was

Or at least he hoped.

But it didn’t seem to have any effect on this guy who was on the ground and bleeding from his thigh that had a bullet lodged in it.

“I’m not telling you anything.”

And with that, the man moved his hand rapidly. From somewhere, he produced a long knife. A fixed blade.

The knife’s steel glinted in the limited sun.

Rob thought he’d checked everywhere. But apparently not.

The knife swung up at him.

Rob swung his arm, trying to deflect the blow by striking the man’s arm below the hand that held the knife.

But it wasn’t enough.

The blade caught against Rob’s arm. It was sharp, and dug into the skin.

Rob had brute force. He had size. But he lacked hand-to-hand combat skills. If he tried to deflect the knife another time, he might get stabbed. And die.

He had no choice.

He pulled the trigger before anything else could happen.

The gun kicked.

His ears rang with the sound of the shot.

Blood erupted.

Part of the man’s skull exploded inwards.

The man’s body fell still. His arm fell heavily to the ground. He wouldn’t move again.

Rob looked down at his hand. It was covered in some kind of bloody discharge.

Rob was in a state of some type of shock. He’d never seen the insides of a human head before.

And it wasn’t a pretty sight.

Instead of getting up or wiping his hand, Rob just stayed there, as if he was frozen.

His head seemed to turn by itself. His eyes followed the path he’d taken down the driveway, towards the lake house.

He could see the door, and it swung open.

He didn’t immediately recognize the man who stepped outside.

It wasn’t Jim or Aly or Jessica.

Who was it?

His brain seemed to be moving slowly.

Was it Aly’s uncle? What was his name? Jordan? The drunk.

No, it wasn’t him.

The man wore a policeman’s uniform.

Then it hit him.

It was the new guy.

Andy? Was that his name?

Yeah, it was Andy.

Rob’s semi-frozen mind registered on the fact that Andy shouldn’t have been doing what he was doing.

Andy, the stranger, had a huge amount of stuff with him. Stuff that he hadn’t had when he’d arrived at the lake house not that long ago.

He was loaded down.

He wore a huge backpack that looked like it was stuffed to the gills.

He carried a full trash bag in one hand.

“Hey!” shouted Rob.

Andy turned, saw Rob, and hurried off towards the lake.

“Hey! Get back here!”

Rob stood up, his hand and gun still covered in gunk.

It sure seemed like Andy was stealing a lot of their gear.

Shit.

They really needed to work on the security.

They couldn’t be taking strangers in like this.

Rob started running towards the lake, determined to chase down the thief.

Behind him, the body of another stranger lay on the gravel. Blood leaked slowly out of the head.

8

ANDY

Andy hadn’t been there long. But he’d been there long enough to realize that it wasn’t the place he’d been looking for.

The lake house was about the furthest thing from a secure bunker that you could find.

Sure, there was gear and some food.

But that was about it.

The people seemed like clowns.

First of all, they’d taken him on. And he didn’t have good intentions.

But he thought that’d been a simple honest mistake.

Andy had eaten his fill and then hung back and watched how things worked there at the lake house.

The woman was in bed and she seemed too weak to work.

She wouldn’t be of any use to Andy.

And one of them was obviously a drunk. Or had serious problems.

The others?

They were rushing off somewhere.

No one seemed to have a good grasp on how to survive. Or how to do what was necessary.

Andy had watched out the window as the big guy had chased after a stranger. He’d been clumsy. He’d barely known what he was doing.

Andy suspected that it was only a matter of time before the lake house ran up against more serious threats. Gangs and roving groups of starving, desperate people.

It hadn’t taken him long to realize that the lake house wasn’t the shelter he’d been looking for.

So the most logical thing to do?

Well, he had to look out for himself first and foremost.

So he’d grabbed as much food and gear as he could and he’d hightailed it out of there.

He got out the door without the drunk noticing much of anything. He was staring at the wall, apparently lost deep in thought.

The sick woman in the bed yelled out something at him.

But he just ignored her.

Andy was heading towards the lake when the big guy noticed him and started chasing him.

But when Andy turned around to look, the big guy had tripped and fallen face-down onto the ground.

Andy just laughed.

He was weighed down with the gear. But he had a head start. He knew they wouldn’t catch him.

He headed straight towards the lake, and then when he was out of view, hidden among the trees, he took an abrupt turn to the right.

He didn’t have much of a plan, except that he had to get far away from them.

Andy was sweating in the warmer weather.

It was tough carrying all this weight with him. But he knew it would pay off soon enough. He had enough food with him to last weeks. If not more.

Sure, the people at the lake house might starve. But that wasn’t his problem.

It was every man for himself now.

And only the smartest would win.

The cop’s clothes were uncomfortable. He didn’t have any underwear on. Not that he remembered why.

The pants were chafing his thighs terribly.

But fortunately, luck was on his side. It had been ever since he’d decided to take control of his own destiny and kill that cop.

Up ahead, through the woods, there was another house. And a dock that jutted into the lake.

There were two boats that had been dragged up onto the shore. A two-person canoe and a rowboat.

The canoe, being thinner, would probably be faster.

There was a paddle laying inside the canoe.

Andy dropped the stolen gear into the canoe before pushing it into the water.

He kept glancing over his shoulder, expecting to see someone coming for him. But there was no one yet.

When he got the canoe mostly into the water, he had another thought. If they did end up coming after him, it’d be hard to do it without a boat of their own.

Unfortunately, the rowboat was made of metal. Andy didn’t think he’d be able to put a hole through the metal, no matter how hard he tried.

So he decided to do the next best thing. He’d take the rowboat with him.

With some dirty, frayed rope that was lying near the rowboat, Andy got the two boats tied together.

Then he got them both in the water.

He was drenched in sweat by the time he was paddling the canoe away from the shore. The rowboat was in tow, floating behind him like a persistent ghost.

The paddling was hard work. He only got sweatier.

But he knew how to paddle.

He’d learned it when he’d gone on vacation as a kid. His father had taught him how to dip the paddle in the water and tilt it just the right way. His father had taught him how to paddle efficiently, how to steer.

And he’d taught him a moral code. The same moral code that his own father had taught him.

Andy was throwing that all out the window now. And he knew that. He was aware of it.

And he was OK with that.

He justified it to himself, saying that the situation was different now. The normal moral code had been the system of rules for one way of living. Now people were living differently. It only made sense that the rules had to change too.

Andy had big plans for himself. This gear was just the first step. He’d find that group, that place where he could be secure. He’d ingratiate himself there. He’d set something up. It’d take time, but he knew he could do it.

He’d have a family of his own one day. While the rest of the world burned, while everyone else starved, he’d be there with his family. They’d be well fed. They’d have protection.

Sure, there were details that still needed to be worked out. But he was a smart guy. He could do it. He knew he could.

And when his future son started to grow up, Andy wouldn’t teach him the moral code that he’d learned himself. No, he’d teach him the new code. Which was to look out for yourself above all else. Do whatever it takes.

Andy was getting ahead of himself. He was getting lost in his own thoughts.

He moved his focus back to paddling.

He had the food now. He had the gear.

If he let himself wander off into his thoughts, he might end up getting caught. No point in getting cocky.

So he kept paddling.

Harder and harder.

He was drenched in sweat and exhausted.

But it felt good.

The physical work felt good. The burning in his muscles felt good.

He was doing something with his life. He was making good choices.

There was purpose to his life now.

Maybe the EMP had been good for him. He already knew that killing that cop had been good for him.

More than a few times, Andy glanced behind him, checking to see if anyone was following him.

But there wasn’t so much as a sign of anyone.

The lake looked pristine. The clouds were breaking overhead and the light was glinting in just the right way off the ripples.

The lake was gentle. A gentle force. A beautiful piece of nature that seemed like it was put there just for him.

Andy was the only one on the lake.

For that moment, it seemed as if Andy was the only one on the planet.

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

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

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

He knew he’d make it.

9

JIM

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

There was a body lying on the gravel.

The front door to the house was wide open.

He feared the worst.

His heart started to pound.

His hands and feet felt ice-cold.

“What is it?” said Jessica.

Jim didn’t answer.

He couldn’t answer.

His mind was flooded with fear.

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

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

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

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

But this was real life.

And real life didn’t work like the movies.

“Jim?”

Jessica had her hand on his shoulder.

Strangely, it was reassuring.

“You OK?” she said.

Jim shook it off.

He got himself under control.

He gave her a stiff nod.

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

Jim moved swiftly.

He was through the doorway.

“Whoa!”

It was Jordan, holding his hands in the air.

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

“Where’s Aly?” he said.

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

Jim was in the bedroom in a flash.

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

“You OK?” said Jim.

“Yeah,” she said.

“What happened? Is everyone OK?”

“That new guy ran off with our stuff.”

“What stuff?”

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

“You’re sure you’re OK?” said Jim.

She nodded vigorously.

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

“Shit,” muttered Jim.

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

The damage had been done.

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

But maybe Jim could.

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

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

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

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

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

Jim glanced down the driveway at the dead man.

Who was he?

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

He heard a muffled yell from down by the lake.

That was all he needed.

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

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

And there was Rob.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The lake.”

“The lake?”

“He took a boat out.”

“A boat?”

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

“Where’d he get a canoe?”

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

“Is he still there?”

“Out of view.”

“Where’d he go?”

“Other side, I guess.”

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

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

He’d have to find out later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He reached the next house in practically no time.

Sure enough, there were no boats.

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

The sun was shining. The clouds had parted.

The lake had never looked more beautiful. And peaceful.

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

He needed that gear.

He’d do anything to get it.

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

He had to think of them.

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

It was a long way off.

But he could get there.

He was a strong swimmer.

Or he had been.

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

Freestyle had been his specialty.

He could do it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

==

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

So that’s what he’d done.

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

But he’d feared them.

And he’d feared drowning.

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

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

He could make it.

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

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

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

Now he was waist deep.

There was no point in putting it off any longer.

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

The water was cold.

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

Jim swam, and swam some more.

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

He had a long way to go.

And a fight after that. If he was lucky.

A lot was at stake.

10

ROB

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

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

But Jordan made no move to get Rob a drink.

And Rob didn’t want one.

He wanted to curl up and disappear.

Rob was sitting cross-legged on the floor.

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

He didn’t feel like a man.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rob looked up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

“Clean up. You’re disgusting.”

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

He let out a nervous laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t know that,” said Aly.

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

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

“But the other guy’s a cop.”

“So what?”

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

“Then why’d he steal our stuff?”

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

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

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

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

Jordan took a step back.

Rob took another step forward.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rob leaned forward towards Jordan as he spoke.

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

But now it all had meaning.

The meaning was to survive.

They had to survive.

And to survive, they all had to work together.

The room was heavy with silence.

Rob finally took a step back.

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

“Do you hear that?” said Aly.

“Hear what?”

“Just shut up and listen for a second.”

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

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

Then he heard it.

Rumbling, throaty engines.

More than one.

Probably a few.

It sounded like motorcycles.

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

The three of them exchanged looks.

“This isn’t good,” said Aly.

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

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

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

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

“Get me a gun,” he said.

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

“You know how to use it?” said Rob.

“More or less. Point it and pull the trigger.”

“That’ll have to do for now.”

The engines outside continued to rumble. The motorcycles must have been parked a little ways down the driveway, judging just from the sound.

“Come on,” said Rob. “There’s no time to lose.”

His thoughts turned to Jessica.

He was already at the door, with Jordan at his heels, when Aly called out something after them.

But he didn’t hear it, and there was no time to waste, so he threw the door open and rushed outside.

Rob knew he was going in hot. He knew he was just rushing in. He knew that maybe he should have tried to be subtle, try to observe them first, see what he was dealing with.

But his mind was on Jessica.

She was out there.

Somewhere.

He hadn’t heard any gunshots yet. That was good.

When his feet hit the gravel driveway, he saw what was going on.

Way down towards the road, there were three motorcycles. Big ones. Black and chrome, with high handlebars and big exhaust pipes. Old-school styling all around.

But his attention didn’t settle on the motorcycles themselves.

There were three riders. As expected.

One was on his bike.

The other two, big hairy men who wore black leather vests with patches, were a little ways off the driveway.

There was someone with them.

Someone moving.

Someone struggling.

Jessica.

It was Jessica.

He saw her hair seemingly hanging in the wind, in complete disorder. It had come loose from whatever she normally did with it.

It all seemed to be happening in slow motion.

Rob was running towards them, but he was too slow.

Jordan was somewhere behind him.

The only thing Rob could hear was his own heavy breathing and the thud of his feet on the ground. His breathing was so heavy it had become like a dull roar that seemed to drown out the rest of the world. It was as if everything else was silent. As if he was watching a movie.

One of the big hairy motorcycle men was swinging something.

His arm was moving in a high arc. Something was in his hand.

Jessica’s head snapped to the side as the object in his hand collided with her. Her hair swung around.

The two men grabbed her. She was kicking her legs wildly.

Rob was never going to make it. He was too far away. And he was too big. He couldn’t run that fast.

But he was going to try.

He was still too far away to get off a good shot. If he tried, he’d probably hit Jessica instead of the men.

He wasn’t going to let them kill Jessica.

One of the men produced a handgun. But he didn’t seem to be paying attention to Rob and Jordan. He swung the handgun at Jessica. It struck her in the head. Her body fell limp. She stopped kicking.

Now, the man turned towards Rob.

He leveled the gun at Rob, his arm straight. It looked like he knew what he was doing.

Rob threw himself to the ground as the sound of the gunshot cut through the roar of his own breathing.

Gravel dust kicked up as his body slammed belly-down on the driveway. He got his arms stretched out in front of him, his gun in both hands, ready to return fire.

The bullet missed him.

Another shot rang out.

There was nothing he could do. He couldn’t see because of the dust. The best he could do was hope that he didn’t get hit.

He felt useless. Hopeless. But the adrenaline and the intensity of the situation kept him going. Kept his heart pumping.

But by the time the dust had settled, Rob still wasn’t hit, but the men were back on the motorcycles.

Somehow, they’d gotten Jessica’s limp body onto one of the bikes. He didn’t know how they were holding her on there. Maybe they’d strapped her down, right behind the rider where a second passenger might ride.

Jessica’s head hung limply to the side, her hair hanging down loose, almost dragging on the gravel.

The motorcycle engines were rumbling and roaring and revving, spitting noise into the air.

The motorcycles were moving, the fat tires starting to roll.

Rob got himself up as fast as he could. He had his gun trained on them. But he couldn’t take the shot. His finger was on the trigger. He was itching to pull it. But he knew it’d be the worst thing he could do. There was no way to ensure that he didn’t shoot Jessica in the process.

So he watched hopelessly as the motorcycles pulled out of the driveway.

Someone rushed past him from behind. It was Jordan, who he’d completely forgotten about.

Jordan stopped a few paces in front of Rob. He spread his legs out wide, taking a stance. He held his gun in front of him.

Jordan was going to try to save the day. He was going to try to take the shot.

But there was no way he was going to make it.

Rob had to stop him.

This wasn’t the time for words.

Rob rushed forward, and he did what he was good at.

He collided with Jordan, tackling him to the ground.

They fell together, Rob’s heavy body pushing Jordan’s body towards the ground rapidly.

The dust came up again.

The air was knocked from Rob’s lungs.

His body hurt all over.

“Jordan?” he said, as he pushed himself up and off of Jordan’s body.

“What the hell did you do that for?” snarled Jordan, still on the ground.

“You were going to miss. You were going to hit Jessica. That’s why I didn’t shoot.”

Jordan just snarled at him.

Shit.

What was Rob going to do?

The motorcycles were long gone. He could just barely hear their rumbling engines down the road.

“What are we going to do?” said Rob, his mood sinking. He reached down and gave Jordan a hand to help him up off the ground.

“What are we going to do? Are you dense or something?”

“What?”

Jordan held his arm out, his finger outstretched and pointing to the Subaru.

Rob spun around quickly, facing the Subaru wagon that he’d forgotten about.

There wasn’t any time to feel like an idiot.

“You’re staying here,” he shouted at Jordan, as he started running towards the house. He needed to get the keys, which hopefully were still hanging on a peg in the kitchen.

Jordan shouted something back, but Rob didn’t hear him.

“What happened?” said Aly frantically, as Rob threw open the door and raced through the house.

The keys were on the peg, hanging there just as he’d expected.

Rob grabbed them and raced back through the house, past Aly, without answering her.

He was already losing time. Every second he wasted, Jessica was being taken farther and farther away.

And it wasn’t like there’d be any way to track her once she was gone.

There were no police to call. There was no one to investigate.

Before the EMP, if someone was kidnapped, the proper government agencies got involved. They’d send out a network of advertisements, announcements, notifications, and surveillance. The toll gates on the highway captured license plates, and CCTV camera recorded faces and car makes and models. Credit and debit cards were tracked. It was hard for anyone to get away with anything.

But that was now all ancient history.

All those systems were gone.

The motorcycle guys could take her as far as their tanks of gas lasted. And as far as Rob knew, motorcycles got much better gas mileage than cars. Or station wagons for that matter.

The motorcycles could simply outdrive the Subaru in terms of distance.

And on top of them, if you added up all the different turns and corners, the possible routes were almost limitless.

He had to catch up to them.

Fast.

Rob threw himself into the Subaru’s driver seat. The wagon shook with his weight, the suspension sinking down and rocking.

“You’ve got to take me with you,” shouted Jordan, rushing around to the passenger side door.

Rob turned the key. The engine rumbled to life.

At the same time, Rob hit the automatic lock button.

Jordan grabbed the handle of the passenger door, but he couldn’t get the door open.

Jordan started banging on the window. “You said I needed to decide,” he yelled. “And I’m deciding to help! Let me in. You can’t do this on your own.”

Rob threw the Subaru into reverse.

He wasn’t used to driving stick, and it took him a couple moments to get it into gear.

He slammed the accelerator to the floor, and let out the clutch more jerkily than he’d intended.

The small engine whined and the Subaru leaped backwards with a jerk.

Jordan needed to stay with his niece, Aly, who couldn’t protect herself.

There wasn’t time to tell Jordan that. He’d have to figure it out for himself.

Rob was turned half around, struggling with his big frame and the back of the seat, facing the end of the driveway, and the Subaru’s engine was whining loudly as the tires kicked up dust from the gravel.

He didn’t know what was going to happen.

But he knew that he was going to find Jessica. No matter what.

He’d never done something so altruistic in his life.

But it wasn’t just Jessica’s life that was at stake.

It was his. It was Jim’s. It was all of theirs.

If they lost Jessica, they’d be more vulnerable.

Not that this thought was at the forefront of his mind.

All he was focusing on was driving.

The Subaru rocketed out of the driveway onto the road. Rob slammed on the brakes, shifted into first, and he was off, headed down the road in the direction that the motorcycles had disappeared down.

11

JIM

The water felt colder now than it had.

But Jim swam on.

His pants were dragging too much. He wished that he’d taken them off.

But it was too late.

He had to keep going.

Jim hadn’t even paused to look behind him, to see how far he’d come.

He just swam on.

It had been about thirty minutes, and he was already feeling it in his muscles. A burning sensation. A deep one.

He was using muscles he hadn’t used in years. And he was using them in ways that he hadn’t used them in years.

Ten minutes later, Jim was even more tired.

And he was beginning to think it was pointless.

Why did he think he could outswim a boat?

Why had he thought this was a good idea?

With the missing food, he was just wasting energy now. And it was energy that wasn’t going to be replaced easily.

With the supplies missing, they’d have to get creative in order to eat. And getting creative meant expending more energy.

It was just a tremendous spiral of energy loss. Thoughts of the second law of thermodynamics swirled through Jim’s head. Energy is always lost. The physicists called that entropy. Jim had studied it in school, and knew of it from his work with electronics, not that it had ever proved to be that useful, practically speaking.

But they weren’t useful thoughts.

He needed to concentrate.

So far, he hadn’t yet decided to turn back.

So the only option was to continue. Forward.

Just when he thought he couldn’t continue, just when he thought his burning, exhausted muscles might give out and he’d sink to the bottom of the lake, unable to rescue himself, he saw a flash of metal up ahead.

He paused in the water to get a better look. Treading water felt good compared to propelling himself forward constantly at an impossible pace.

This way, too, he could get his head higher out of the water, getting a better look.

Sure enough, there was a boat up ahead. He saw the sun glinting off its metal where the paint had worn off.

The boat was far off.

But not too far.

He could get there.

He just had to keep pushing.

At least the boat wasn’t lost. At least the fake cop hadn’t yet gotten to the shore.

All wasn’t lost.

Instinctively, Jim reached for his revolver in its holster. He didn’t draw it, but just felt the reassuring hardness of its handle as he wrapped his fingers around it.

The gun was his lifeline.

He didn’t waste much time treading water.

He’d been swimming freestyle, and he switched now to breaststroke. His thinking was that breaststroke wouldn’t create as much of a splash.

The competitive version of breaststroke had the swimmer moving up and down in the water quite a bit. The head bobbed up and dove back down again in an almost vicious way.

But Jim, instead, swam the more casual style.

He didn’t want to draw any more attention to himself than he had to.

He couldn’t make out, from where he’d been treading water, what kind of boat it was.

If it was a canoe, the fake cop would be facing forward.

Less chance for him to spot Jim as he approached.

Jim had to assume that he was armed.

If it was a rowboat, then Jim was in trouble. The fake cop would be facing exactly in Jim’s direction.

And it wasn’t like Jim could try to cut him off from the side. It would be too much swimming. Too long a route.

Jim already didn’t know how he’d managed to outpace a boat.

He’d been swimming as hard as he could, sure.

But the fake cop must have been paddling lazily. Either that or he was in terrible shape and had stopped, huffing and puffing, for a few breathers as the boat coasted, unpropelled, as slowly as a turtle for long periods.

It was ten more minutes before Jim was close enough to really see the boat.

It turned out it was two boats, rather than just one.

The fake cop was in a canoe, towing a rowboat.

Maybe that was what had slowed him down somewhat.

Jim’s plan was to get as close as he could, start treading water, and get off a single clean shot. All before the fake cop even spotted him.

It wasn’t exactly an honorable approach. Not like in the old cowboy movies, where the two dueling cowboys always faced each other, even perhaps exchanging pleasantries before the guns were fired.

But the situation was unjust from the start.

There was one way it could be honorable.

As far as Jim was concerned, he was hunting a thief.

Nothing more.

And a thief like that deserved what was coming to him.

Jim swam hard.

And fast.

But not fast enough.

When he was coming up for air, his head rising out of the cold water, he saw Andy in the boat suddenly turn around.

Their eyes met for a split second.

If Jim stopped to tread water now, he didn’t stand a chance in a gunfight.

Not at the distance.

Not without the relatively solid footing of the boat that Andy would have.

And Jim knew that Andy would go right for his gun.

So Jim didn’t wait.

He took a large breath, inhaling deeply and fully.

He dove down, pulling himself through the water.

He went down and down, as if he was trying to reach the bottom of the lake.

Just a few feet below the surface, the water was already getting noticeably colder.

Jim just kept swimming.

The first bullet hit the water.

It was a strange sight.

Jim saw the bullet’s trail, rather than the bullet itself.

The bullet left a wake of bubbles, a line cutting through the water.

Water is denser than air. The bullet slowed down as it drove down. It would reach the bottom of the lake.

And hopefully Jim wouldn’t.

The second bullet cut a path through the water. This time, it was a little closer to Jim.

Jim had two choices. He could resurface and return fire. Or he could dive deeper.

He chose to dive deeper.

A third, fourth, and fifth bullet hit the water.

Jim didn’t know what kind of gun Andy had, or how many rounds it held.

Ideally, he’d wait until Andy emptied his gun, and then resurface.

But that wasn’t likely to happen. Andy was clever. A clever thief.

Jim swam down another two feet.

He was already feeling like he needed to take a breath. He wasn’t used to swimming, let alone holding his breath underwater.

He needed to think fast.

He needed a plan. A better one than just waiting and then resurfacing to get shot.

Jim could see the hull of both boats above him. They weren’t far away.

He didn’t think. He just started swimming. Instead of continuing down, he started cutting across.

If he could make it under the boat, he could resurface on the other side. Maybe take Andy by surprise.

If he was lucky.

He didn’t know how much longer he could last without air. It was getting rough. His head felt light and strange. It wasn’t just another symptom on top of the normal exhaustion. This symptom was impossible to ignore. Impossible to simply push through. This symptom would kill him sooner rather than later.

He swam as fast as he could.

Bullets pounded through the water all around him. There was nothing he could do about them.

He just had to keep going.

Somehow, he got to the other side.

Ideally, he’d have liked to get some distance between himself and the boat.

But he wasn’t going to make it.

His body was screaming for air.

Desperately.

It was all he could do to simply resurface. He didn’t even reach for his Ruger.

His head pierced the surface of the water and he gasped loudly for air, his lungs finally receiving what they’d been screaming for.

He’d barely taken three breaths when the paddle swung through the air towards him.

The wide part of the paddle hit him in the head.

Pain flared through his skull.

His vision blacked out for a moment.

He sunk back down into the water, too filled with pain to move his arms or his legs.

He was sinking.

12

LIAM

“They didn’t seem interested,” said Julia, Liam’s longtime partner.

“No,” said Liam, shaking his head, and sitting down on the edge of the bed in their RV.

Liam and Julia were staring at the same thing. On a small built-in coffee table, there was an ornate wooden box with the lid open.

They’d gotten the box on one of their trips to China, during one of their first summers after graduate school, where they’d met.

Inside the box were the last remains of their opiate stash.

They had the good stuff. Pharmaceutical pills. The real ones, right from the factories.

Liam had never messed around with the street stuff. Julia had. Just once. She’d said it had felt dirty. Totally unclean.

They were high-class people. Professors at a good school. And they considered themselves high-class.

Swinging, or whatever you wanted to call it, was just something that the lower classes didn’t understand. It was common at the universities. At least among the more open-minded professors.

They’d pursued their lifestyle all their lives. It was what they’d wanted. Educating and partying.

Sure, educating often had taken a back seat to partying. To having fun. To finding new partners. New excitement.

Opiates were rolled into their lifestyle.

They wouldn’t have been able to untangle one from the other.

They both knew that they couldn’t stop. They didn’t want to.

Before finding opiates, they’d both been depressed. Depressed with that academic spiritual ennui that was almost like a job requirement. For the humanities departments, at least.

The opiates had rescued them from that depression.

They’d allowed them to live.

To pursue their dreams.

To pursue other partners.

To pursue pleasure.

Together.

There wasn’t any turning back now.

The world was over.

And their lives were over.

“We’ve just got to make the best of it,” said Liam, speaking without looking at his longtime partner. “We’ve got to have as much fun as we can, while it lasts.”

“That’s what we’ve been doing.”

Liam reached forward and grabbed the box. He shuffled through the contents.

“There’s not much left,” he said, taking out a bottle and shaking it. “We’ve got a week at most.”

“There’s got to be some other way to get the stuff,” said Julia.

“Another way? Are you crazy?”

“It’s not that crazy. I mean, there’s always a way, right? That’s what we used to say when we were seducing someone together. That there was always a way. And it was usually right. Almost always.”

“We’ve already stopped at all the pharmacies we could find,” said Liam. “Opiates were the first things that were raided. We were weeks late.”

“But…”

“But what?”

“There’s got to be something natural we could try…”

“I think the slight withdrawal you’re experiencing is making you stupid. You know as well as I do where the poppy plant grows and where it doesn’t grow. And it’s not like we can get anywhere, start a crop, cultivate and process it, within time. And especially not with all the violence… I mean, hell, you taught a two-semester course on the opiate trade and its history…. Here, you really need this.”

Liam opened up the pill bottle, shook out a single pill. He tossed it to Julia, who caught it and swallowed it within a second. And without water.

“Feeling better?”

“Give me a moment.”

“I’d better take one too,” said Liam, shaking out another pill. And he shook out a second one, surreptitiously, so that Julia wouldn’t notice. He swallowed them both, throwing them back from the palm of his hand and opening up his throat the way he’d trained himself to.

Ten minutes later, the pills had started to kick in.

They were both feeling better.

“So what’s the plan?” said Julia.

“We’re going to go out with a bang.”

“A bang?”

“Yeah. We don’t have that much longer left. So we’re going to do what we do best.”

“And what’s that?”

“We’re going to have fun.”

“With who? We’ve already been with everyone else here hundreds of times. It’s lost its luster, you know? And no offense, Liam, but there’s nothing new if it’s just the two of us.”

Liam nodded. “Don’t worry, kid. We’re thinking along exactly the same lines.”

“So who is it then?”

“Who? Who better than that attractive pair that visited us earlier today.”

“They didn’t seem interested.”

“We’re going to have to make them interested. After all, it’s a new world. That means new rules.”

13

JIM

It was almost a full minute before Jim got a grip on himself. The pain was still there. Throbbing. But it wasn’t as all-encompassing and overpowering as it had been.

He was still sinking.

The water was cold and dark.

He fought against the pain and moved his left foot first.

Then his right.

Now his arms.

He kicked with his feet and churned with his arms.

He was rising, rising towards the surface of the lake.

The air had been knocked out of his lungs when the paddle had hit him.

But he was going to make it to the surface before he suffocated.

He knew he could do it.

He didn’t know how or why.

Or why he was continuing. It was if there was some resolve burning deep down inside him that couldn’t be snuffed out no matter what his body went through.

Jim felt the burning in his chest. It was intolerably painful.

He knew he didn’t have much longer.

He had to reach the surface soon. His lungs needed air. His body needed oxygen.

Jim had read about what it felt like to drown. They’d been horrible descriptions that were painful to read. But at the time he’d read them, they’d just been mere words on a page. Black and white text. Nothing more. No reality to them.

What he’d read had said that the body knows not to breathe underwater. The reflexes are so strong that a drowning person won’t automatically take a breath until right before they’re about to fall unconscious.

Knowing this, Jim was watchful for his own reflexes.

He felt it starting. He felt the yearning in his lungs and his throat and his mouth. He felt his body wanting to open his mouth.

But his mind knew that it was just water he’d be taking in, that he’d just die sooner.

The fact that the yearning was coming on now meant he wasn’t far from drowning.

He was kicking with everything he had. Pulling with his arms.

His muscles burned with an intensity he’d never felt before.

Suddenly, it was over.

All over.

His hand punched through the surface of the water. He felt the air on his hand before his mouth reached it.

His head broke through the surface. His mouth was already opening reflexively, water pouring into it.

He gasped and sputtered.

He tasted the air pouring in.

There wasn’t any time to think about whether he was about to be shot. Whether Andy was there in his boat, waiting for him to reappear.

If he was shot, he was shot. And that was it. His body was on the edge of death.

It wasn’t just that he couldn’t think about getting shot. It was that there was simply nothing that he could do about it.

Jim’s muscles continued to burn. The pain wouldn’t leave them as he tread water.

The seconds passed slowly. They turned into minutes.

Time was moving as slow as molasses.

As the minutes passed, Jim slowly started to feel calmer. His mind was no longer ringing like an alarm, sending him every signal it could to tell him he was almost at the point of death.

His heart rate slowed.

His muscles were still exhausted.

He was freezing cold.

But he was alive.

He could breathe. There was oxygen in his blood and his brain.

And he hadn’t been shot.

Jim had to force himself to take stock of his surroundings, to scan the water around him.

The boat was gone.

And he couldn’t see the shore.

His head still throbbed in pain from the blow.

Jim reached for his Ruger instinctively, checking to see if it was there.

It wasn’t.

But it had to be there.

His holster was a good one.

Jim reached again, felt around, mental alarms going wild.

It was definitely gone, probably resting now on the bottom of the lake. Completely irretrievable.

Jim took a deep breath, trying to calm his panicking mind.

Panic wasn’t bad in and of itself.

You just had to know what to do with it.

Jim knew he couldn’t let it overtake him.

He couldn’t let himself become mentally defeated.

He knew he had to go on.

They desperately needed what Andy had stolen.

And Jim wasn’t about to give up.

He could deal with extreme exhaustion. He could deal with a blow to the head.

He’d figure out a way to deal without his sidearm. He’d improvise. On the shore, there’d be all sorts of things that could become weapons. It was just a matter of using them correctly.

Now all he had to do was find the shore.

If he couldn’t see it, he’d have to guess and just start swimming.

There was always a way forward. Always a path to survival.

It was just a matter of keeping the mind strong, fortified against self-doubt and weakness of all types.

14

JESSICA

Jessica woke up with the worst headache of her life. Her mind and memory felt foggy.

Her surroundings were swimming around her, refusing to come into focus.

There were diffuse blobs somewhere in front of her. There was a source of light coming from somewhere.

It was like she was looking at the world through a dirty piece of thick glass.

Her eyes closed again. Her eyelids simply felt too heavy. And somehow painful. She couldn’t help herself.

It was a strange sensation, losing the little visual contact she had just briefly established with the world.

She must have been hit on the head. She was sure of that much, even though it took her minutes to figure it out.

She was putting the pieces together slowly. Not of what happened. But of what was going on now.

Her body seemed to be coming back online. System by system.

With her eyes closed, sound became more important.

There were rough male voices nearby. Talking raucously. Laughing.

Jessica was pretty sure they were speaking English. But she didn’t understand what they were saying. Her brain felt too slow to string the words together.

Slowly, the memories started coming back.

She’d been in the driveway of the lake house.

There’d been the men on the motorcycles.

Something had happened. Had she fought them?

What about the others? Jim? Rob?

Had they been hurt?

She couldn’t remember.

Her memory was a fog that she couldn’t break through.

All she really knew was that she’d been hit on the head. Hard.

And that she wasn’t at the lake house.

And that the voices around her weren’t voices she recognized.

The most likely scenario? She’d been kidnapped. Taken somewhere against her will.

To what purpose, she could only imagine.

Her mind felt impossibly tired. Just from being active. From thinking. From being conscious.

And with that, Jessica faded back into blackness. Back into a sleep that wasn’t restful. A sleep that didn’t restore. A sleep that wasn’t really sleep at all. A sleep punctuated by nightmares of the worst kind.

When she awoke again, she felt a little better. She didn’t know how much time had passed.

It was silent around her. The voices had disappeared.

She was hesitant to open her eyes. She remembered the last time. She remembered how she’d seen nothing but fuzzy shapes and lights.

What if the blow to her head had damaged her vision permanently?

What would she do then?

It wasn’t like there were doctors and surgeons who could potentially fix the issue.

No, she’d be blind for life. Or seriously sight-impaired.

And then what chance would she have?

Well, if she was blind, the sooner she learned the truth, the better chance she’d have.

She’d have to get out of this situation one way or the other, whether she could see or not.

It wasn’t any use sitting around feeling sorry for herself.

She opened her eyes.

Jessica breathed a sigh of relief.

She could see.

Her eyesight was a little blurry still, around the edges of her field of vision. But it wasn’t that bad. And maybe it’d get better.

She was out in the open, underneath the sky. The sky was gray and she couldn’t see the sun.

There were trees all around her.

She was in some sort of small clearing. It might have been a campground. Or something similar.

There were two motorcycles parked not far from her.

The men weren’t in sight.

Good.

It was the perfect opportunity.

All she had to do was get away. She’d be able to hide safely among the trees. She’d be able to rest until she was strong enough to start to find her way back to the lake house.

She reached to her side, expecting to feel the comforting weight of her Glock.

But it was gone.

Of course it was gone.

They’d have to have been idiots to leave her with her weapon.

But then again, they’d left her unsupervised.

Her mind was still foggy, and she suddenly realized that all she’d been doing for minutes now was looking around and planning. She hadn’t moved a muscle, except to reach for her Glock.

She was in a strange position, lying on her side on the ground.

She went to move, trying to uncurl her legs so that she could stand up.

Only to find that they were bound together. Tightly.

She looked down, craning her head down awkwardly.

Her ankles were bound together, as well as her thighs.

It wasn’t rope that bound her. Instead, there were jumper cables.

Great. Just great. They’d be tougher to break. Tougher to saw through.

But her hands were free.

She realized it all of a sudden. After all, she’d reached for her absent Glock just now. Her mind was still a mess of fog, the pieces of reality fitting together strangely, as if everything was desynchronized.

That had been with her right arm.

Her left arm was trapped underneath her body, and she realized that she couldn’t feel it at all.

She tried to keep calm.

Getting worried about her arm would do her no good. It would just make her less effective.

And if there’d ever been a time when she needed to be effective, it was now.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t think clearly.

So she’d have to take things slow. Proceed item by item. Take things one at a time. Calm and measured.

OK. She was doing it.

She needed that arm. She’d get it to work.

She knew the clock was ticking. The motorcycle men might come back at any minute. But she still needed to proceed as calmly as she could.

Her left arm was probably just asleep. It had been stuck underneath her body for who knew how long.

Jessica tried to shift her weight off her arm.

But it was hard to move with her legs bound together.

The best she could do was wriggle her body around until she flopped down on her stomach. Her face pressed uncomfortably into the dirt.

Her left arm hung uselessly there. But at least it was free.

It was only a matter of time now before she started to regain feeling in it.

She knew she’d have to wait. She knew she couldn’t let herself get overcome with anxiety.

A minute passed.

Then another.

It felt like an eternity.

But, sure enough, she started to feel the painfully intense sensation of pins and needles creeping over her left arm.

It wasn’t long after that, that she was able to move it.

Now she had both arms at her disposal.

She pushed herself up off the dirt and got her legs around to her front so that she could reach down to untie the cables.

The motorcycle men had tied tight, complicated knots.

But they were still nothing more than knots.

What had they been thinking?

Had they been planning on her simply not waking up?

Or maybe they hadn’t been expected to be away for so long.

Jessica worked methodically and carefully.

In just another couple of minutes, she had the knots undone.

She stood up shakily, her legs in pain from the tight cords.

It was then that she heard the laughter.

Laughter coming from behind her.

Raucous laughter.

Cruel laughter.

She spun around.

The two motorcycle men were there, emerging from behind the trees where they’d been hiding.

They walked towards her.

One held a gun. Pointed right at her.

There was a vicious smile on his face.

“I told you that’d be hilarious.”

“It was even better than I thought it’d be.”

“Shit, we should do this with everyone we get.”

“The best part is when they think they’ve gotten away.”

“Definitely the best.”

Jessica’s heart was pounding. Her body was telling her to run. She was entering panic again.

But they’d just shoot her.

There was no point in running.

Slowly, she raised her hands into the air. She was frozen in place, her feet firmly planted on the ground.

15

ROB

Rob didn’t know where he was going. He didn’t have the slightest idea.

The Subaru engine was whining terribly, the tachometer pushing into the red zone.

He was forgetting to shift. And he knew that wasn’t good. He was wasting gas. Putting unnecessary strain on the small four-cylinder engine.

But his mind was a nexus of panic and focus. All he could think about was getting to Jessica. Rescuing her. Fighting with everything he had.

He was aware that he wasn’t approaching this rationally. He wasn’t acting the way Jim would have acted.

Jim would have taken a mental step back from the situation, evaluated his options, and proceeded calmly and diligently along the best route.

Instead, Rob felt like he was just plowing on full steam ahead without really considering the consequences.

After all, what happened when he ran out of gas?

What happened when he found himself stranded, unsure of how to get back?

What happened if he crashed? After all, he was driving erratically.

He was doing everything wrong. There were a thousand errors he could potentially make. And they were all more likely in his current mental state.

And, still, there was no sign of Jessica.

There was no sign of anyone.

All he knew was that he was heading southwest. Well, he didn’t even know that for sure. It was just his best guess.

Rob hadn’t spent much time outside the greater Rochester area. Aside from a couple of trips to New York City when he was younger, and a few school field trips, he’d barely seen what was beyond his immediate surroundings.

And before now, he’d never seen a problem with that. He’d figured that everything was pretty much the same everywhere. He’d figured that if he’d been to New York City, where he’d been shocked by the rudeness of the people and the speed with which the organized chaos moved, he’d pretty much seen it all.

Now he was wishing he’d at least glanced at a few maps. Or spent a little time with one of those web pages that showed you an area’s topographical features.

Rob was out of his element.

Pine trees rushed by as he drove along at a brisk eighty-five miles per hour.

His eyes were constantly moving, scanning the road for any sign of a motorcycle.

But what was he going to find?

The riders were long gone. Jessica was long gone.

It wasn’t as if they’d leave behind a calling card. It wasn’t as if they’d leave behind some item that was immediately recognizable as belonging to them, like a motorcycle helmet or a pair of leather saddle bags.

For the first time since he’d sped away from the lake house, Rob seriously considered turning around.

After all, had he even done the responsible thing? He’d left Aly there, protected only by her uncle. And Jordan certainly wasn’t someone you could rely on. Not in a life-or-death situation.

He’d done what he’d thought was best, and now he was second-guessing himself.

It had been an impossible call.

After all, he’d known in that instant, as he’d watched the motorcycles speeding away, that there was no getting Jessica back once she was gone.

It was a one in a million chance she’d return. And it’d be all up to her. She’d have to escape herself. Then find her way back. Without any gear. Without a map. Without knowing where she was.

Jessica was capable. More so than Rob. More so than a lot of people. But that didn’t mean she’d be able to escape her captors.

Especially not with a blow to the head.

Rob was panicking. His breathing was ragged. His thoughts were going every which way.

He was sweating, even though the air was cool and the windows were down.

His vision was going fuzzy around the periphery.

Rob made a snap decision.

He jerked the wheel, and the Subaru careened to the side of the road, crunching over some gravel that lay on the shoulder.

Rob slammed on the brakes.

The car shuddered to a stop.

He forgot to hit the clutch, and the engine stalled.

There he was, sitting on the side of the road, the nose of the Subaru pointing out towards the trees, its rear bumper hanging into the road.

Without the sound of the engine, silence seemed to ring out. It was an overwhelming silence, one that cut right through him.

The only thing he could hear was his own heart pounding.

Rob threw the door open and bolted out into the road.

He was freaking out.

He hadn’t felt this bad since… he couldn’t remember when.

He stood there in the middle of the road, leaning forward, his hands on his knees, breathing like he’d just run a marathon, cold sweat covering his forehead.

He had to get it together.

People’s lives depended on the decision he was about to make.

If he continued on, he was putting Aly at risk. Not to mention himself. Who knew what dangers lay beyond this stretch of road.

If he turned back, that’d be it for Jessica.

Rob wasn’t cut out for these types of decisions.

What would Jim have done?

Would he have cut their losses and turned around?

No, Jim would have thought of something much cleverer a long time ago. He would have nipped the situation in the bud. Right from the beginning, he would have acted differently.

But that was because he was Jim and not Rob.

Maybe Rob just needed to go with his gut. All this thinking was driving him crazy. He’d never been an intellectual sort of guy. He’d always let his gut and instinct drive him.

And look where it’d gotten him. Too many lost jobs to count. Too many unpaid bills and long-standing legal problems.

Well, he had a clean slate now. He didn’t owe anyone any money. There wasn’t even any money.

Maybe his instincts just hadn’t worked well in the modern world. Maybe the modern pre-EMP world had worked against what came naturally to him.

Maybe in the post-EMP world, his gut instincts would serve him correctly. Maybe humans were wired for life-and-death survival situations. And those prewired instincts simply didn’t work well when it came to credit scores and reliable employment. Maybe all along, Rob had been fighting against impulses that would now serve him well.

Or maybe he was completely wrong. After all, he’d been wrong too many times to count.

His gut was telling him to keep going. To search for Jessica.

Maybe it wasn’t what Jim would do.

But Rob wasn’t Jim.

Rob shook his head like a wet dog, trying to shake away the panic.

He took stock of his surroundings, trying to resettle himself.

He was alone on the road. It was just him and the stalled Subaru and the trees. Nothing for miles.

But that couldn’t have been the case. There must have been someone out there. Somewhere. Probably in hiding.

After all, it wasn’t like this part of the state was that deserted. Sure, there were fewer people here per square mile than there were in the greater Rochester area.

But it wasn’t deserted.

It wasn’t Wyoming.

Rob may not have known a lot. But he knew that much.

So, there must have been someone around.

Maybe there was someone who knew something about some guys on motorcycles.

After all, it hadn’t been that long since the EMP. The chances that some biker guys had moved in from another area, well—that was certainly a possibility, but not as big of a possibility that they were native to the area.

Now that Rob had made his decision to press on, he was a little calmer. And now that he was a little calmer, he realized that his best course of action was to simply find someone from around here, ask them about local bikers, and then track Jessica down that way.

With a clear plan in his head, Rob rushed back to the Subaru.

He was still nervous, his hands and feet not completely under his control, and he stalled the wagon twice more while trying to start it.

But he got the engine started, put it in reverse, and got back on the road.

Now all he had to do was find someone.

He glanced at the gas tank.

Was it an eighth of a tank left? A quarter? It was hard to tell. The level always seemed different, depending on what angle he looked at it.

It didn’t matter much, anyway. All he had to do was get to Jessica. After that, they’d be able to get back with or without the Subaru. They’d figure something out.

Jessica was more important than the vehicle. And not just as a human being. But for her practical value as a member of the group. Rob knew very well that his own odds at survival were far stronger if Jessica was alive and well.

Rob was pretty sure he’d seen a house on the roadside a couple miles back. He’d just sped by it at the time and hadn’t given it a good look. But there was a good chance, he supposed, that someone local was still there.

He got the Subaru turned around and went speeding on down the road, headed towards that house.

It was a simple home, just one story, with a perched roof that covered a small attic. The yard in front was just dirt. There were a couple odds and ends scattered about, like old tires and rusty bicycles.

There wasn’t a car in the driveway, so Rob parked the Subaru there, making sure to lock the doors and pocket the keys.

Maybe no one was there. Maybe whoever lived there had left. Maybe they’d fled, thinking that other areas of the country would offer them solace. Or maybe they were already dead. Or stuck at work, never to return home again.

There were a thousand possibilities.

Rob felt strange, hoping that someone was actually at home. Normally, it would have been better to stay clear of anyone. People meant danger. People could mean death.

As Rob approached the house, he spotted something in the backyard.

If he wasn’t mistaken, it was a pickup truck hidden under a tarp. Someone had piled up leaves and sticks, trying to hide the shape of the vehicle. But from where Rob stood, it was unmistakable.

Rob gulped down the rising panic.

But this was what he wanted, wasn’t it? He needed to talk to someone.

As he approached the front door, Rob reached for his gun.

16

JIM

Somehow, Jim had reached the shore.

He lay there, gasping for air, breathing heavily, flat on his back.

He was freezing cold. His body was shivering almost uncontrollably. The water had been colder than he’d realized.

But there wasn’t any time to rest. He couldn’t let that fake cop get away.

Jim stood up, his wet pants clinging to him heavily.

Again, his hand reflexively went to the Ruger that wasn’t there.

He scanned his surroundings.

It was mostly just trees. A couple scrubby bushes here and there. A patch of sand. Some kind of beach. A couple of pieces of permanently installed exercise equipment. Pull-up bars and parallel bars.

A house stood about a hundred yards away. A regular, nondescript sort of house. Two stories.

No sign of Andy or the boat. Or the stolen gear.

It was hard to think quickly and clearly with his body exhausted, pushed to the very edge. But he concentrated on his breathing, which steadied his thoughts, and gave him some kind of stability.

Andy couldn’t be that far. Right now, he’d be trying to find a vehicle with which to abscond with the gear. He had to continue on land now, where the boat was of no use to him. He must be somewhere close by, near the shore.

The house. That was the answer.

There didn’t appear to be anyone home. Of course, it wasn’t as if he could go by whether lights were on or not.

But there were subtle signs that his eyes picked up. There wasn’t a car in the driveway. That was an obvious sign.

But there was something else, something about how the flag near the front door had gotten wrapped around the pole in the wind. No one had been there to untangle it.

Or maybe they’d been scared to.

Maybe there was someone holed up in the basement, clutching a shotgun or a butcher knife, shaking with fear.

It was a chance Jim had to take.

He made his way to the front door, his sopping wet clothes hanging heavily on his frame.

He tried the door handle before knocking. Unsurprisingly, it was unlocked.

That almost certainly meant there was no one home.

The door creaked open and Jim stepped across the threshold into the darkened downstairs. The curtains had been drawn and not much light entered.

Normally, he would have liked to take stock of the situation. He would have liked to understand his surroundings, to check to make sure there really wasn’t anyone there, and to check for anything useful that he could use.

But there wasn’t any time for that.

Jim’s body was exhausted, but the possibility of spotting Andy was giving him new energy. He bounded up the stairs, two at a time.

There was a small bedroom that faced the lake. Jim entered, stepping over the things that had been scattered across the floor, as if someone had been packing in haste and abandoned the project at the last minute.

At the window, Jim threw back the curtains.

Outside, the sky was gray. He could see the lake, which seemed to stretch endlessly out and into nothing. He couldn’t believe that he’d swum across it.

No sign of Andy.

Not yet, anyway.

Jim was patient.

He knew that it was normal for the human brain to miss seeing objects that were right there. He’d chatted with a former air force fighter pilot once. He’d just been some nondescript guy who’d wandered into Jim’s shop, and they’d happened to get to chatting. It turned out the guy had been a really good pilot, and he said the trick to it all was in the eyes.

Jim hadn’t known what he’d meant at first, and had asked him more about it.

The eyes, the guy had explained, move seemingly on their own. When there are blind spots, like the pillars in a car that border the windshield, your eyes skip right over them. And in doing so, they tend to miss things near the blind spots.

So, the answer, according to the former pilot, was to force yourself to focus your eyes on three distinct spots that span across the field of vision.

Jim had tried it out in his car, driving around Rochester. He’d found it fine at first, but as he’d kept practicing, he realized that he was noticing things that he would have otherwise missed. And then one day, it saved him getting plowed into by an enormous SUV that was coming towards him in his blind spot.

Jim did the trick now, focusing on three points outside the window.

And then he saw it.

It was the boat, tucked neatly away amid some shrubs.

It was about a half mile to the east.

If the boat was there, Andy would be nearby.

There was no time to waste.

It was unlikely that Andy’d managed to find a working vehicle in such a short amount of time. But there were plenty of other means by which he could escape. All he needed to find was a bicycle, and he could be off Jim’s radar in no time.

Jim raced back down the stairs, threw the door open, and took off at a run towards the east, where he’d seen the boat.

It wasn’t until he was halfway there, that the rush of adrenaline started to die off, leaving him with muscles so exhausted that they felt like nothing but dead weight.

He didn’t think he could keep going.

He slowed to a jog.

And then a walk.

And now he was barely making headway. Each step he took seemed impossibly difficult, impossibly painful. The lake had taken almost everything out of him already. He wasn’t sure how much he had left to give.

When he found Andy, how would he have the strength to fight?

There was no time to rest.

And that’s when he remembered, reaching for his Ruger, that he’d lost it.

His mind must have been scrambled from the fatigue. He should have searched the house for a weapon. For a knife. For a baseball bat. For anything at all.

Now he was empty-handed.

He’d reached the boat, his thoughts distracting himself from the painfully exhausting walk.

Nearby, the water lapped gently against the shore. The sky was gray, and the nervous chatter of small birds was nearby.

Jim looked towards the woods, and he saw Andy, dragging some kind of improvised sled, piled high with Jim’s own gear and supplies.

Jim reached again for the Ruger that wasn’t there, and his heart started pounding in his chest. It didn’t feel good, and it didn’t feel right. The beat felt fast and slow at the same time. It felt heavy, and it made him feel sick. It felt like his blood was cool.

He’d have to think of something. His eyes scanned the area for some kind of weapon. They settled on the boat’s paddle. It was big and heavy. Maybe too unwieldy to swing easily. But it would do serious damage if it smacked into a skull. Andy hadn’t swung it hard enough, but Jim knew that he could.

Off in the distance, Andy seemed to be struggling with getting the gear over something in the ground. Maybe some rocks. Maybe some jagged pieces of concrete that had been left there. Jim’s vision seemed worse than normal, and he couldn’t make it out.

Jim kept his eyes on Andy as he reached for the paddle.

Just as his hand wrapped around the wood of the paddle, Andy turned around and saw him. Andy’s eyebrows shot up and a look of fear took over his face.

A scared enemy was a dangerous enemy.

Andy’s hand went right for his gun. He was fumbling. And he clearly wasn’t a good shot. But it didn’t matter.

All that mattered was that he had a gun and Jim didn’t.

17

ROB

Rob knocked on the door. It felt strange to do so. It felt like he was being overly polite. After all, the world as they all had known it was over. Wasn’t knocking a little antiquated at this point?

Or maybe not.

After all, he didn’t want to get shot.

Maybe going in with his hand on his gun wasn’t the best move. Sure, he had to be careful. But drawing first could lead to problems. Serious problems.

He had to really force his hand to relax its grip on his gun. It wasn’t an easy thing for him to do.

“Someone?” Rob heard, called loudly, from deep inside the house.

And then silence.

Rob knocked again.

Someone was moving inside the house, unseen behind the thick door.

“I mean no harm!” shouted Rob, as loudly as he could. “I’m looking for my friend. I just need some information.”

A long silence.

Rob knocked again. He wasn’t going to give up so easily.

He figured that if he hadn’t been shot yet, chances were they weren’t going to shoot him. If he’d stumbled on the wrong house with the wrong inhabitants, they could have easily aimed down at him from an upstairs window with a shotgun.

“I’m just looking for my friend! Just tell me through the window. Will you just come to the window?”

Rob was feeling now like he wasn’t going to give up.

Rob banged on the door, and he didn’t stop. He just kept going.

Five minutes passed, and he kept banging.

Finally, the door opened.

It happened all of a sudden, and his hand went right through the open doorway, colliding with something.

“Shit,” muttered someone.

“Did I hit you?”

Rob felt his hand inching towards his gun.

Starting off by hitting the homeowner wasn’t exactly good. It wasn’t the first impression that Rob had hoped to make.

“Are you OK? Did I get you bad?”

He still couldn’t see who he’d accidentally hit.

“I’m fine, damnit. Get inside. I don’t like to keep the door open.”

It seemed strange, after so much trouble, to suddenly be allowed access to the home. Especially considering that they didn’t even ask him who he was, or whether or not he was armed.

There wasn’t much light near the door, and Rob stepped across the threshold, his eyes not yet adjusted to the new levels of light.

“Does it hurt?” said Rob.

“I’ve had worse. Don’t build yourself up too much, you’re not that strong. Hell, I could knock you down with a single punch if I had to. I doubt you could say the same.”

It was a man’s voice in the darkness. An old voice. But how old, Rob didn’t know.

Rob didn’t know what to make of the words. Were they meant as threats? As jokes? All bets were off in this new world. Anything could happen.

“Take a seat. Don’t wear out your shoes. You’re probably going to need them at some point. Now what’s this all about? Wait, just know that we’re not going to feed you. You’re on your own with that, young man.”

Rob was more and more starting to feel like he was speaking to a man who had to be at least in his eighties.

The man was talking almost nonstop, not giving Rob a chance to speak.

“Well, what are you waiting for? There’s a couch right behind you. Don’t tell me you’re going to try to rob us. Because if that’s the case, you’d better just walk out the door now. Lonnie’s got a 12-gauge trained on you from the other room. Isn’t that right, Lonnie?”

A woman’s voice answered from the other room. “That’s about right, Danny.”

Rob didn’t want to seem like a threat, so he backed up, still not able to see anything, until the backs of his legs bumped into the cushioned couch.

He fell back onto it and was surprised to find that it was an unusually comfortable couch. His body instantly felt more relaxed. The furnishings of the lake house had, of course, been the last thing on his mind. But suddenly he realized that they were far from the best available.

“Now there’s a candle around here somewhere. I can’t see anything. Lonnie, where’d you put those candles?”

“They’re where you left them.”

“You had them last.”

“I saw you with them earlier today.”

“That was yesterday. Don’t start losing your mind on me, Danny.”

There was a bunch of noise, papers being moved about, drawers being opened. Finally, the noise of a match being struck and then the glow of a candle that illuminated the old man’s face.

Rob had been right. Well, probably. Danny looked like he was in his late eighties. And in pretty good shape. His shoulders were square, and he stood tall. He looked like the sort of man who had spent at least a few decades doing some serious manual labor.

Rob watched as Danny settled himself into a rocking chair, holding the candle in front of him, which flickered in the drafty house.

Rob could see a little over the surrounding room, and more as his eyes adjusted. It reminded him of his grandparents’ house, and other older relatives. There were framed photographs, cute little saucers and plates everywhere, and a piano that looked like it was used regularly.

“So what’s this all about?” said Danny.

“Well,” said Rob, starting to speak.

“Wouldn’t you like some tea?” interrupted Lonnie, from the other room.

It seemed strange to be offered tea by a woman who was supposed to be pointing a shotgun at him. But Rob was getting used to strange things and strange circumstances.

“Come on, kid, have a cup of tea.”

“Uh, all right, sure, I guess,” muttered Rob.

“I’ll get the water boiling,” came Lonnie’s voice.

Rob heard her leaving the room, presumably to enter the kitchen. He didn’t hear her putting down a shotgun. He figured that it’d be pretty difficult to start making tea with a shotgun in hand, so he figured that there really was no shotgun. Not that he was going to say anything. If they didn’t have a gun, that was fine with him. It was smart, actually, to pretend to have one.

But it did give Rob an idea.

“You want me to hand over my gun?” said Rob. “That way you know for sure there’s nothing to worry about.”

Danny nodded stiffly at him. “That’d be fine,” he said. There was something in his voice that made Rob think that Danny had wished that he’d come up with that idea himself. But obviously Danny and Lonnie were just regular people, people who in their past life hadn’t had to deal with threats of violence or the threat of home intruders. They were making do the best they could now.

They seemed like nice, ordinary people. Rob hoped they’d be able to hold out. But he didn’t think it was realistic. After all, the hordes would be coming, looking for the lowest-hanging fruit.

Rob was acutely aware that he was in a hurry. In a way, he felt like when he’d visited some elderly relatives before the EMP. He’d always been a hurry to head off to the bar, or to meet up with some friends, feeling like he was trapped there in the stuffy rooms that were decorated in styles that dated back decades.

But he also knew that he needed to gain more of Danny and Lonnie’s trust before they’d tell him what he needed to know.

He tried to bottle the anxiety deep down, stuffing it away somewhere, knowing that he needed to be patient.

“So, you’ve been doing OK since the EMP?” Rob ventured to say.

“We’re fine here,” said Danny. “We’ve got everything we need. But now don’t you get any ideas.” He took Rob’s gun, which he offered to him with the safety on, handle first, and placed it on a small table near him, muzzle pointing at the wall.

“Like I said before,” said Rob. “I’m just looking for my friend. You see, we’re over by the lake.”

“The lake? Which one? There are lakes all over the place.”

“Uh…” said Rob, completely blanking on the name of the lake. He felt like he was back at one of those horrible job interviews where he couldn’t answer the easy questions about former employers and his checkered history of parole violations and DUIs.

Fortunately, Danny just went on talking, not waiting for an answer. “We used to vacation by a lake up in Michigan every year. It got to be too much, you know how it is, I’d imagine. Getting all the gear ready, making sure the car’s in good working order. Not to mention getting the time off work. I used to work in the mill around here. Not that you’d know much about it. You never hear a word about it these days. Closed down a few years back. Worked my way up to foreman…”

“There you go, going on and on, dear,” interrupted Lonnie, appearing in the room for the first time. She might have been several years younger than Danny. There was something about her face and hairstyle that reminded Rob of a great aunt of his that had died a few years back.

She held a tray with three teacups on saucers neatly arranged on it. She served one to Rob who took the teacup carefully with both hands.

Tentatively, he took a sip.

“Wow,” he said. “That’s delicious. I can’t remember when the last time I had tea was…”

“It’s imported,” said Lonnie, settling down on a nearby armchair and taking a sip of her own tea. “I got sick of the stuff in the supermarket.”

“This is a lot better, that’s for sure,” grunted Danny.

Rob didn’t mention the shotgun that Lonnie was supposed to be keeping trained on him.

Danny was silent, apparently engrossed in his tea.

The three of them sat there for a few minutes, taking sips of their tea in that post-EMP silence that seemed to ring out around them. It was a weird scene. Strange. Unusual. Unexpected.

At least it wasn’t violent.

Rob had already seen so much violence. Death. Injury. Cruelty.

And he knew that he’d only encounter more of it as the days passed. He knew that there was no going back to the old world that, in retrospect, felt so safe and comforting.

This quaint living room here would have seemed old-fashioned before the EMP. And in the days that would follow, in this new world, it would be beyond quaint. It would be like a museum that showcased the old, comfortable world. The hard reality of survival would dictate entirely new types of decoration. Teacups and saucers would be as out of place as they possibly could be.

Rob figured it was as good a time as ever to bring up his question.

“So,” he said, holding his teacup between his big hands. “The reason I came…”

It was strange, having to remind them that he wasn’t some long-lost nephew who was merely paying them a visit.

“What is it, dear?” said Lonnie.

“Don’t we have any biscuits?” said Danny.

“We’re out, remember?”

“To hell with them anyway.”

“Anyway,” said Rob. “My friend was… Um,” He didn’t know how to ask his question. He had the idea that it might not be a good idea to mention that his friend was kidnapped. Mentioning violence might shatter the little reality that Danny and Lonnie were clinging to. It might provoke some kind of extreme reaction, rendering them unable to answer his question.

So he tried a different tack. “Would either of you happen to know if there are any motorcycle owners around these parts?”

“Motorcycles?” said Lonnie, her voice creaking a little. She sounded sweet, like a doting grandmother, as she searched her memory. “Danny, wasn’t there that big parade a couple years back? There were all these men with their motorcycles. Those old-style bikes, I think.”

“Out of towers,” barked Danny. “But what about the Johnson boy? He was always riding around on those things. Couldn’t get off one of them long enough to get himself a proper job.”

“Oh yes, the Johnson boy. What a shame. He never did make much of his life.”

As Lonnie and Danny recounted the Johnson boy’s various encounters with the law, Rob felt like he was listening to his own story. Sure, the Johnson boy sounded a little more extreme than himself. He’d been arrested plenty more times. Rob had always managed to skirt serious trouble. But who knew? If things had gone just a little bit differently with Rob, he could have easily found himself serving time in the state penitentiary.

And then what would have happened to him now? Rob pondered that for a moment, as Lonnie and Danny continued. Would those prisoners be stuck in their cells, abandoned by the guards, left to starve to death? Surely not. Surely the majority of them were resourceful. And having spent years locked up, they would have learned all the tricks of the trade, so to speak. They’d know how the cells could be opened, if they just had enough time away from the scrutiny of the guards. It seemed like a sure thing that the majority of them would escape. Escape right into a half-destroyed, lawless world where power and violence were the only authority required.

“Sam! That’s his name. Sam Johnson”

“Right on the money, Lonnie.”

“So this Sam Johnson, where does he live?” said Rob.

They didn’t seem to want to know why he was interested. Maybe it was because he’d phrased his question innocently enough.

“Oh, he lived with his dad pretty much all his life. Where was that house again?”

“Up on Baker, I think.”

“No, you know what, I know where it is. It was that ramshackle place, off of Route 22. The one with the long driveway.”

“You know, you’re right. You couldn’t even see the house from the road. But I went there once. I forget what before. Maybe to drop off a bulletin from the city council or something.”

“Route 22,” said Rob. “Is that the one off of…?”

“You just head back about a mile and make a left. And that’s 22 for you.”

Rob nodded his head and took another sip of tea.

Inside, he was getting more anxious by the minute. Thoughts were rushing through his head about what could be happening to Jessica right at this moment. He imagined terrible things, and he tried to push them to the back of his mind.

“His dad died a couple years back, and the house really went to seed after that. Sam never really could keep it together. Never mowed the lawn or anything.”

“And those shutters? Did you see those? The paint was peeling off all over the place.”

“You think he’d still be around there?” said Rob.

“Are you looking for him or something?”

It was the question he’d been waiting for. It couldn’t be avoided any longer.

Rob just nodded.

“Look, I don’t want to get involved in whatever it is you’re up to. Your business is your own business. Maybe it’s an old-fashioned attitude these days, but I’m old, so I’m allowed to think that way.”

“Aw, you’re not that old, Danny.”

Danny laughed hoarsely. “Like I said, I’m not going to get involved. But you seem like a nice kid, so I’ll give you a piece of advice.”

“And what’s that?”

“Just watch out.”

“Watch out?”

“Keep your eyes peeled. Sam’s dangerous. Half the time he got locked up it was for getting into a fight. Sure, sometimes you’ve got to fight. But he’d fight when he didn’t need to.”

Rob nodded. He already knew Sam was dangerous. And his friend. They’d kidnapped Jessica after all.

“Well,” said Rob, thinking he’d gotten all the information he was going to get. “Thanks for the tea. I’d better get going.”

It felt sad, as if he was visiting his grandparents, and he knew it was going to be the last time that he ever saw them.

They said their goodbyes, and Rob stepped back across the door’s threshold.

The door closed behind him.

And as soon as it did, he realized that he was once again in the post-EMP world. People could hide that fact from themselves, but the reality would always be there, waiting for them.

His heart starting to pound in his chest.

The anxiety that he’d pushed aside came rushing back up.

Adrenaline was coursing through his veins.

His thoughts turned completely away from the cute old couple and their tea saucers. And they turned to Jessica. And the fight that he knew he couldn’t avoid.

As he got into the Subaru and cranked the engine, he had the sinking feeling that this might be a fight that he couldn’t win.

He didn’t feel any relief at discovering where Jessica likely was. He didn’t feel relief in knowing that he knew how to get there, or knowing what he had to do.

Instead, he felt dread. And he realized that he’d never really before felt true dread. It was a sinking feeling deep in his guts, as if a pit was opening up, a yawning chasm of darkness stretching out inside of him to nothing at all. A bottomless pit.

It wasn’t obligation that was driving Rob to press on.

It was something else.

Duty.

Responsibility.

It was the responsibility that he’d always been chastised for lacking.

It was rising up.

And it was driving Rob to do the right thing.

He put the Subaru into reverse, jammed the accelerator, and the wagon rocketed backwards down the driveway. He hit the road, spun the wheel vigorously, got it pointed in the direction of Route 22.

And he was off. The wheels spun. The engine whined. The window was down and the air was in his hair. His gun, handed back to him by Danny, was once again within reach.

18

JIM

Jim ducked behind the boat as shots sounded.

The boat was metal. But thin metal. Jim didn’t know if the rounds would penetrate or not.

The one thing Jim definitely had going for him was that Andy was a bad shot.

Even so, Jim acted in order to maximize his safety. That was half the battle. He covered his head with his arms and hands, thinking that he’d rather take a bullet in the arm than the head.

Jim counted the shots as Andy fired in quick succession.

Jim’s exhausted brain was trying to take in the situation, trying to analyze it. He needed to stay as calm as he could if he wanted to stay alive. Otherwise, he’d make some error that would see him wind up dead.

It was quickly becoming clear that Andy, on the other hand, was acting irrationally. Acting out of fear. Discharging his weapon as fast as he could. And from a good distance.

One round struck the boat. Jim heard the diminutive pinging sound it made.

The other rounds must have missed widely.

The large heavy paddle lay at Jim’s feet.

It was going to be a guessing game. Guessing when Andy’s gun was empty. Guessing whether Jim could rush him with the paddle in the time it took to reload. Guessing just how spent Jim’s body really was, and whether or not he could count on himself to sprint the required distance.

Jim thought he could do it. But he also knew that his mind wasn’t right. He knew he couldn’t trust his own judgment.

But what choice did he have?

It was time to act.

Silence rang out. There were no gunshots.

Jim seized the paddle as he rose to his feet. In doing so, he was exposing himself.

The paddle was heavy. It’d be hard to run with it.

But it was the only weapon he had.

His eyes tracked onto Andy, who had apparently been walking towards Jim as he discharged his gun.

Andy’s eyes widened as he saw Jim. He had the gun in both hands, and he was fumbling, trying to load the gun.

Jim launched himself forward, putting absolutely everything that he had into it. He focused his entire being on getting to Andy. On destroying him.

Andy wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

And it was up to Jim to win that fight.

Jim’s muscles responded more than he’d expected them to. His feet were slamming into the ground. His arms were moving awkwardly from holding the paddle. He felt his head bobbing slightly in time with his pacing.

He closed the distance in no time.

Andy was raising the gun.

It seemed to be happening in slow motion.

Jim didn’t know if Andy’d gotten the gun loaded or not.

It didn’t matter. He’d already committed himself to this. There was no turning back now.

Jim brought the paddle up, holding it like a club with both hands. As he ran, he brought it back behind his shoulder.

Jim’s timing was good.

Only a few feet left now. Andy was right in front of him, each feature of his face clearly visible.

Jim started swinging the paddle back, as if he was about to hit a home run.

Andy pulled the trigger. The gun clicked.

But nothing happened.

No shot rang out.

Pure terror appeared in Andy’s eyes.

The paddle was swinging. Heavy and hard.

Andy started to bring his hands up to defend himself, either to try to catch the paddle or to cover his head.

But he didn’t get them up in time.

The wide part of the heavy paddle connected with Andy’s skull.

Jim had done well. It’d been a good swing. The timing was right. And he’d put everything he’d had into it. The fact that he’d been sprinting forward as he’d swung had only added to the total force of the blow.

There was a sickening sound as the paddle hit.

Something happened to Andy’s eyes. Jim didn’t know if they’d rolled back in his head. It was too quick to see, because the next thing he knew, Andy had collapsed to the ground.

Jim was panting heavily. He dropped the paddle and scrambled for Andy’s gun.

A guy like Andy couldn’t be trusted. Even when he was apparently passed out.

Jim held the gun in one hand as he patted down Andy’s body with the other. Most of the gear was on the improvised sled, but he found a few items that Andy had stuffed into his pockets. There was one of Jim’s own knives, a box of matches, and a couple candy bars. Jim pocketed the items, and then took a step back.

He kept the gun trained on Andy and thought about what came next.

Andy was still breathing. Shallow, sickly breaths. The hit to the head had been hard.

He was still alive.

There was a chance he’d die from the blow.

But there was also a chance he’d recover.

And if he lived, there was no doubt in Jim’s mind that after Andy had slunk off to recover, he’d come looking for Jim again.

A stern verbal warning would mean nothing. This wasn’t one of those old cowboy movies where the bad guy could simply be warned never to step foot in town again. And anyway, Jim wasn’t sure how often that’d worked in those movies.

There were obviously no cops to call. No jail to lock Andy up in.

The choice was clear.

Andy would either be alive or dead. And it was up to Jim to decide.

He didn’t mind killing. Not if it meant protecting himself, his wife, and his friends.

Killing was required of him.

But it didn’t make it any easier. Especially not when his enemy lay wounded, unconscious, on the ground in front of him.

Andy was completely helpless.

But Jim knew he had no choice. He had to do it.

He examined the gun, his exhausted and blurry mind finally registering on the fact that it wasn’t loaded.

Well, he hadn’t found any rounds on Andy’s person. They must have fallen to the ground.

A quick scan of the ground didn’t turn anything up.

Jim pocketed the weapon, and again considered his options.

He had the paddle, his hands, his feet, and his knife.

The knife seemed like the most humane method. Slit the throat. Be done with it. Quick and swift. Not as painful or as horrible as bashing Andy’s skull in further.

Maybe it was the exhaustion, but Jim had to reflect for a moment before he did the deed.

He had the knife ready in his hand.

But it seemed like such a horrible thing to do. It seemed as if circumstances had forced them all to behave like savage animals. Like people who’d lost all civility.

And in a way, that was all true.

It was every man for himself when you really got down to it.

Jim had no choice. He had to be both the judge and executioner.

Andy had crossed the line. And he’d do it again. Those were the choices he’d made, and now he’d face the consequences.

As Jim knelt down, putting his knees onto Andy’s chest, Andy seemed to almost regain consciousness.

Andy’s eye flitted open, and, for a moment, they locked right onto Jim’s.

Jim said nothing.

He ran the knife swiftly across Andy’s neck, one hand gripping the top of his head firmly.

Blood gushed out.

Andy let out a gurgling noise, and blood bubbled out of his mouth.

Jim stood up.

The fight was over. The adrenaline was already starting to fade, and his weakness and exhaustion were returning to the forefront of his consciousness.

He didn’t feel good about what he’d done. He didn’t feel good about winning the fight.

Surviving didn’t always feel victorious. It just felt like continuing to press on. Like grim determination.

Jim knew what he had to do. He had to get the supplies back to the house, check on Aly.

It was a big job. A tiring job. And he knew that it’d be best to work quickly. After all, gunshots had been fired.

It was hard to guess, given the variety of terrain, how far the sound of the shots had traveled. Jim knew from experience that sound could be unpredictable.

What kind of person would the sound of gunshots attract? Someone who wanted to swoop in and pick through the scraps, that’s who. Scavengers, people who were desperate and reduced to being nothing better than carrion birds.

Jim was under no illusions that he could fight off anyone else. His body felt like it was on the verge of complete collapse. He wanted nothing more than to sit down and eat the candy bars.

But he didn’t have that luxury.

Instead, he seized the improvised sled loaded down with gear, and dragged it back to the boat, which he began to survey.

“Shit,” muttered Jim, as he saw that the boat’s hull had been pierced by a round.

It was no longer seaworthy.

There was no patching up a hole like that.

He’d need a new way to get the gear back home.

Dragging that sled back around the shoreline would take hours, if not days. And he didn’t even think he’d be able to actually do it, not in his current physical state.

Jim tore the wrapper off one of the candy bars as he thought, taking almost half of it in a single bite.

The sugar quickly started to make him feel better, starting to lift his mind out of the fog, making him feel just a little bit clearer, a little more resilient.

He took a step back from the damaged boat and the laden-down sled, surveying them once again.

His only real option was to hide the gear and come back later for it with a boat. He’d hide it and then start the long walk back around the lake.

There might be boats on the shore. But it’d be easier to simply return with the Subaru, load it up, and then drive back home.

He was mad at himself for not having thought of the solution earlier. It seemed so simple.

Jim bit off another hunk of chocolate and set to work. It’d be tough dragging that sled far enough away, but he could do it.

19

JESSICA

Jessica had initially gotten interested in firearms because she’d been assaulted. She’d vowed that she’d never let it happen to herself again. She wanted to be strong. Able to defend herself. Even dangerous.

And now, she was in the situation that was her worst fear.

She didn’t know what they wanted from her.

So far, they just seemed to be enjoying her struggle. It was entertainment to them. Nothing more. They didn’t see her as a human being with thoughts and concerns of her own. Or, if they did, it only added to their amusement.

When she’d broken free from the cords that had bound her, they’d pointed the gun at her, approached her, and backhanded her hard across the face.

They’d kneed her in the stomach, and she’d doubled over in pain. The next thing she knew, she was tied up again with the very same cords that she had just managed to undo.

She was trying to look at the upside of all of this. Not because she was some sort of sunny-side up Pollyanna person. But because she was practical.

If there was a way out of this, she needed to know it. And she wouldn’t find it by sulking and thinking about how unlucky she was or how unfair the situation was. No, that wouldn’t do her any good.

Her captors were nearby. She’d had a hard time seeing them, since she was lying again on the ground, immobilized, and her field of sight was limited.

But she’d seen them breaking out dirty little plastic bags filled with powders. She’d come to the unmistakable conclusion that they were drug addicts, getting ready for their next fix.

Good. That was one advantage she already had over them.

She’d heard them chuckling, out of view, chatting in low voices, presumably about how they were going to torture her just for kicks.

Or who knew. Maybe they were planning on selling her off. It wouldn’t surprise her. That kind of stuff had happened with regularity before the EMP. And after? It was a wide-open market for anyone who wanted to get interested. Sure, the old networks and lines of communication might suffer. But that sort of criminal behavior would always find a way. If it was possible to profit off the intense suffering of another human being, there’d always be some dark soul ready to take up the yoke and get to work at the dirty business ahead.

When her captors stopped talking and laughing, she assumed that they were nodding off, fully overtaken by the drugs they’d consumed.

So, she set to work.

Methodically and carefully and quickly.

She used the same methods she’d used previously.

It was faster this time. Maybe five minutes all told.

Soon, she was standing there, free once again of the cords that had bound her.

She was still in the clearing in the woods. She turned to look at her captors.

They were pathetic. Worthless lumps of nothing.

One had his eyes closed. The other, his eyes were open, but it was as if he saw nothing at all, just staring straight up at the gray sky and the tops of the trees.

Jessica waited while her legs regained feeling again. The pins and needles feeling was strong. As she waited for it to pass, her eyes scanned the ground.

She spotted a large stick.

Her legs were ready.

She strode forward, picking up the stick as she walked.

One of the men stirred. The one with his eyes open. His big dumb eyes with the small pupils turned towards her. He muttered something, drool oozing down his chin. His hand spasmed as it tried to reach for something.

But it was too late.

Jessica had the stick swinging in a long arc. She knew how to swing it, really putting her hips into it, using all her body weight, her one leg extended out as if she was playing baseball.

The stick connected with the man’s face. He let out an “ouff.”

Jessica wasn’t done. He was clutching his face as she swung again, this time making contact with the side of his head.

There was rage inside her. Rage and anger at her captors. She wanted revenge.

But she knew that she couldn’t let herself get carried away by the emotions.

After all, what she wanted most was simply to escape. To live. She wasn’t going to let herself get in the way of that. No matter what.

While his buddy slept, the man tried to fight back.

His coordination wasn’t good. His hands didn’t seem to be doing him any favors.

So he did the next best thing. He used his bulk

He launched himself forward, right into Jessica.

He hit her hard, and she fell to the ground heavily.

The fall knocked the air out of her lungs.

The man was heavy, and right on top of her. His hands were fumbling for her neck, seemingly not able to grasp on completely. So instead, he pushed his knees into her chest. Hard.

Jessica was gasping for air.

She didn’t have much longer.

She needed air.

Her head turned to the side, looking for something. Anything that could be a weapon.

A rock.

Sitting there. Heavy and perfect.

It was mere inches away from her hand.

She pushed her arm as far as it could go, shifting her body to the right.

Her fingers wrapped around the rock, and she wasted no time. She brought it up swiftly. As hard as she could.

The rock collided with the man’s skull.

His eyes opened up, his pupils rolling back.

A horrible sound.

Blood on the rock.

He started teetering, slumping off of her and onto the ground. He wasn’t yet dead, but he was close. Jessica doubted that recovery would be possible for him, even in a pre-EMP world with hospitals and attentive doctors.

The other man had been unconscious through the entire exchange.

But he stirred now, his eyes opening and latching onto Jessica.

Jessica had been lucky once. She couldn’t count on it happening again.

She turned on her heel and started sprinting as fast as she could.

She didn’t care what direction she was headed.

She just needed to get away.

She had no gun. The man, however, was armed. She had no way of knowing what state he’d been in now, whether he’d able to shoot or not.

She wasn’t going to take any risks.

The sounds of the woods became almost silent as she ran, her own sounds taking over. All she heard was the sound of her own ragged breath, and her feet pounding on the dirt.

She ran through the trees, zigzagging in case there was a gun trained on her.

She didn’t look back. Instead, she put all her effort into simply getting away as fast as possible. Getting as far away as possible.

Up ahead, there was a house.

She hadn’t been expecting it. She’d thought she was in the middle of the woods, at some campground.

But it quickly became apparent that she’d merely been in a large backyard.

The trees ended and she entered the backyard, which was mostly clear, except for some things scattered around, like a motorcycle exhaust system, and an ancient, rotting sedan.

The house had been nice once, but it had gone to seed years ago. Some windows were broken, and many decorative shutters had fallen away and never been replaced. There had once been a nice porch on the rear of the house, jutting out from what seemed to be the kitchen, but it was falling away now, crumbling into a mess of rotting, wet wood.

Jessica finally turned around.

The man was pursuing her. Running through the trees. Holding a gun. He didn’t seem to be in a stupor.

She caught just a glimpse of his expression. Nothing but rage. Rage and revenge.

Jessica kept running, her feet slapping hard on the ground, and, soon, the driveway that ran down the side of the house.

There was no point in trying to seek shelter inside the house. She’d merely trap herself. She’d be like a caged animal.

Unless she could find something to defend herself with.

What were the chances of that? Unless she found a firearm, she’d be stuck with a kitchen knife at best. Or a baseball bat.

And her pursuer had a firearm.

No. It’d be better to keep running. Get into the street. Cut across to some other house. Disappear into the woods, zigzagging once again through the trees.

Her odds weren’t good. She knew that.

It seemed like the man was gaining on her. He was fast for a junkie. Maybe his muscles were as numb as his mind, incapable of feeling pain. Maybe it was just the idea of vengeance that motivated him, pushing him on and on.

The driveway was long and tree-lined.

Jessica chose the busted-up pavement, rather than weaving through the trees. It was surer footing, even though it meant she’d be an easier target. She didn’t think he was close enough yet to get a good shot at her.

Once she hit the street, she knew she’d really be at risk. She’d be out in the open, whereas the driveway did curve a little.

Suddenly, she heard the noise of an engine whining. It sounded familiar. And loud, intensely high-pitched, as if something was going wrong.

The vehicle represented a new threat.

But she couldn’t turn around.

She couldn’t stop.

So she kept running.

She was about halfway down the driveway. Rounding a curve, she could see the road up ahead.

A car appeared, taking her by surprise by turning, bumping into the driveway.

It was speeding right towards her. Its engine was whining.

Light glinted off the windshield. She couldn’t see who drove it.

There was hardly any time to act. The car was really bolting down the driveway at a terrific speed.

Not wanting to stop running, she veered off to the right. She hoped that she could use one of the trees as a barrier. If the driver wanted to run her over, it’d be more difficult with a tree in between them.

Before she could even get to the side of the driveway, the car had almost reached her.

Jessica suddenly recognized it. It was Jim’s Subaru.

The Subaru wagon slammed to a sudden stop. The driver door swung open.

Jessica felt her heart swelling, hope appearing for the first time. Jim had come to rescue her. Jim, always capable and cool-headed. He was the guy who always seemed to know what to do, no matter what the situation.

But Jim didn’t step out.

Rob did.

Jessica’s heart dropped.

But at least he had a gun.

“Get in!” he screamed at her, waving his hand violently.

Jessica was over at the passenger door in a flash.

She grabbed the handle and pulled. But the door didn’t open.

“It’s locked!” she screamed.

The man who pursued her had disappeared from view. But she knew that he was out there. She knew in her bones that he wasn’t going to give up easily.

Jim would have had the door already unlocked.

“Shit,” muttered Rob, throwing himself back into the driver’s seat, and fumbling with the controls on the door.

After a few frantic tries, where she and Rob couldn’t coordinate, the door opened and Jessica threw herself into the passenger’s seat.

“Get us the hell out of here,” she shouted. There wasn’t time to ask how he’d found her, why he was here, or what his plan was.

Not that his plans would have mattered. The only thing that was clear was that they needed to leave. Quickly.

Rob was fumbling with the gearshift, jamming his feet against the pedals.

He stalled the Subaru once, the gears and engine making a rough sound as the car jumped and stopped abruptly.

Then he stalled it again.

“He’s coming!” said Jessica, pointing through the windshield.

Sure enough, he was coming.

On his motorcycle.

Apparently, he wasn’t affected by the drugs. At least not enough to prevent him from riding his bike.

Somehow, the man held a shotgun, the barrel against his chest, facing the sky.

He was speeding right towards them.

Rob tried again. This time, it worked, and the Subaru rocketed backwards down the driveway, the engine whining.

20

ALY

Aly was in a lot of pain. She was feeling stronger, but the pain was getting worse. It was strange. Like some sort of paradox.

She was also getting hungry. She was just lying there in bed, with her stomach rumbling. Sure, she’d been hungry basically since the EMP. But this was a new type of hunger. A serious hunger.

Maybe it was a good sign. Maybe it was a sign that she was starting to heal. After all, the body needed energy in order to rebuild itself. That’s what her mother had always said.

She’d tried to avoid thinking about her mother. Dead in her house. Just lying there. No chance of burying her. It was horrible. Tremendously horrible.

Aly shuddered.

She needed to think about something else.

The only other thing she could think about was food.

“Jordan!” she called out. “You think you could bring me something to eat?”

It wasn’t a good situation. Just her and Jordan alone in the house. And she wasn’t in much of a position to defend herself if something should have happened.

But so far things had been quiet.

Sure, she was worried about the others. Especially her husband. But that was the world they lived in now. There were no calm, peaceful commutes to work, or trips to the pharmacy, where you knew your loved ones were statistically extremely likely to return home safe and sound.

It was a new world.

And Aly figured she’d better get used to it.

There was no answer from Jordan.

In fact, she hadn’t heard from him in quite a while. Hours, at the very least.

She tried once more, yelling his name as loudly as she could.

She waited, hoping to hear his footsteps, his uneasy gait as he came ambling towards her room.

But there was nothing.

Aly looked around the room.

There was nothing more to eat.

She decided to get up and get something herself. She could do it. To hell with everyone telling her that she needed to stay in bed. She’d always been stubborn, but that was only because she knew what was best for her.

Plus, what if something had happened to Jordan? He was old, after all. And in terrible health by all accounts. Or at least he should have been, after the way he’d treated his body over the years.

She didn’t want to be alone there in the house without realizing it.

Someone might come.

It took considerable effort, but Aly managed to get herself out of bed.

She used a light straight-backed chair that was nearby as a sort of makeshift cane, pushing it in front of herself on the floor as she walked, leaning down and putting a lot of her weight on it.

By the time she got into the hallway, she was already breathing heavily from exertion.

She didn’t know how much farther she could go. Could she make it all the way through the house?

She called out his name one last time, yelling as loud as she could.

No answer.

She kept going, pushing the chair, letting it scratch up the floors. Not that it mattered anymore what the floors looked like. And she wondered whether it ever had, in the sense that maybe they’d all been concentrating on the wrong things before the EMP. How much easier would their lives be right now if they had done a little bit of preparing before the actual event? What if they’d put aside a little fund, a little extra money, using it once a month to buy supplies, building up a stockpile? What if they’d come up with plans, designated meeting places, and everything of the sort?

There wasn’t much point in thinking about it now. Except in terms of things that they could implement in the future. Without communication devices like cell phones, carefully laid-out plans and rendezvous spots should have been a basic requirement.

Aly wound her way through the entire house. Eventually, she found Jordan slumped against the wall in a corner, behind an armchair.

It was as if he’d been hiding from her.

He was unconscious, his eyes closed, drool coming out of his mouth.

One of his arms was stretched out, and in his hand, he loosely held a bottle of something. Hard liquor, most likely. Or maybe moonshine, for all Aly knew. Maybe even absinthe. Or rubbing alcohol. She wouldn’t put anything past Jordan.

Despite her weakness, Aly managed to give Jordan a weak kick in the stomach.

But there was no rousing him. He was out for good.

Fine. Whatever. She’d get herself something to eat.

Hopefully, nothing would happen. Hopefully, no one would show up looking for a fight, looking to steal, looking to murder whoever they could simply out of anger and frustration at the way the world had finally turned out.

Aly was making her way to the kitchen, still using the chair for support, when she passed by a candle that Jordan must have lit for some extra light.

Despite the candle, it was hard to see. The blinds had all been drawn as a security feature. It wasn’t a good idea to let someone see inside the house, to see who was there, to see what kinds of supplies were there.

Aly’s chair knocked into something. She was weak and it was hard to get it to go exactly where she wanted it.

To her horror, she watched as the table that she’d bumped into wobbled. It was a long coffee table in front of the couch, and the lit candle rested on top of it.

The candle wobbled.

Aly reached out.

But she wasn’t fast enough.

Before she could get to it, the candle had fallen over. It fell off the table, right onto the ancient small woven rug. The rug had been filthy, and Aly remembered that Rob had taken it outside to give it a good beating, getting what had seemed like pounds and pounds of dust out of it.

Aly gasped as the rug caught fire. The flames rose much higher and faster than she would have expected. The rug must have been incredibly dry, and very flammable.

Aly was in no shape to deal with the fire. She could barely walk. What was she supposed to do?

But she tried anyway, casting aside the chair that she’d used to support herself, and trying to grab at the rug. She hoped that she could take it outside, or beat it against the floor to extinguish the flames.

But the flames were high now, and they licked her hands as she tried to grab onto the rug. She instinctively pulled her hand back, gasping in pain from the burn.

“Jordan!” she screamed.

Could he really be that out of it? So far gone that he didn’t hear anything? That he didn’t somehow sense the danger?

Fire was one of those primordial things. It meant health and security. And it meant danger. Extreme danger. Aly felt her body reacting to it now, screaming at her to get out of there, away from the flames. It was something that was hardwired into her. Her body felt like a spring, getting ready to sprint right out of there, despite her physical condition.

She screamed Jordan’s name again. But there was no answer.

The flames had spread to the couch, which was rapidly erupting into something resembling a fireball.

And that’s when Aly really knew it. The house was going up in flames. It was already a lost cause. There was nothing she could do about it.

“Jordan!”

No answer.

She had to get out of there.

And she had to get Jordan out of there too.

He may have been a sleazeball and a drunk, but he was still her uncle. Her blood. She’d already lost her mother. Losing Jordan, as much as she didn’t want to admit it, would be too much.

The flames seemed like they were all around her. Smoke filled the air.

It seemed almost unbelievable, how fast it had all happened.

Visibility was reduced. Her body was hot, and the air felt like it would scorch her.

Her body was still incredibly weak.

But adrenaline coursed through her.

She could do this.

She could save Jordan. Grab him, shake him awake. Or drag him out of the house if she had to.

With determination etched into her face, Aly stepped forward, making her way between the high flames, towards the corner where Jordan lay slumped.

21

JESSICA

“He’s gaining on us!”

“I’m pushing it as hard as I can.”

The Subaru engine was whining like it’d never whined before. Jessica was sure it’d simply shut down at any moment, overloaded however engines got overloaded.

Jessica didn’t really know, though. She knew about bikes, not cars. Bikes were something she could understand, with the simple and easy-to-see connection between the source of power (the legs) and the rear wheel. The drivetrain was something she could touch and feel. A car? That was a whole different story. She understood, in theory at least, that it wasn’t totally different.

Jessica had her head spun completely around, her neck craning, as she watched the motorcycle following them.

Up ahead, the road was ending at an intersection.

The trees were ripping by them. They might have been going a hundred miles an hour. Maybe over. Definitely over ninety. And it wasn’t the sort of road you should drive that fast on.

Rob barely slowed down, taking the turn so fast that Jessica feared that they’d lose control completely and crash headlong into a tree.

But somehow Rob kept it together, jerking the wheel hard to get them back on track. Two wheels bumped over uneven earth on the side of the road, but soon all four wheels were back on the pavement.

The motorcycle was still pursuing them.

It was like a country road. It wasn’t exactly curvy, but it definitely wasn’t a straight shot from one end to the other. There were enough slight curves to keep Rob occupied at the wheel.

“Why’d you go that way?” shouted Jessica, above the sound of the engine.

The windows were down, and the air was blowing her hair around crazily.

“What?”

“Why’d you go this way?”

“Back to the lake house,” she heard him shout.

“You’re leading them back to the lake house?”

Rob flashed her a look. She could see it in his eyes. He was scared. And he didn’t know what he was doing.

Suddenly, the noise from the engine cut off.

The car started to slow down immediately. It wasn’t getting any power. It was just coasting along. Jessica may have not known a lot about cars, but she knew that.

Rob shot her a terrified look as he fumbled with the keys, the pedals, and the shifter.

No matter how hard or frantically he tried, he couldn’t get the engine started again.

“Shit,” was all he could say, over and over again.

Through the rear window, Jessica could see the motorcycle rapidly gaining on them.

There was just the slightest decline to the road. If they’d been headed uphill, they might be stopped already.

They must have been going at least a hundred miles an hour. They had a while before the Subaru completely stopped due to lack of momentum.

Rob was still having to turn the wheel, to keep them on the road. There was absolutely no power, and the power steering must have been dead. But their velocity still allowed him to turn the wheel easily enough.

“He’s gaining on us,” said Jessica. “Give me your gun.”

“Of course he’s gaining on us! We’ve got no power. We’re toast. What are we going to do?”

“We’re going to not lose our shit, that’s what we’re going to do. Now give me your gun.”

“What? You’re going to shoot him out the window? Like we’re in some movie?”

“Yes,” said Jessica. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do. Now for the last time, hand it over.”

With just one hand on the wheel, Rob handed over his gun.

Jessica checked it, felt the weight of it in her hands. It felt good to be armed again.

The Subaru was, little by little, decelerating. It wasn’t much, but it was perceptible.

Jessica didn’t know how long the road went on like this. It wasn’t like they’d have to stop if they came to a stop sign. But surely the slight downhill would end at some point, turning into a slight uphill.

Not that it mattered.

The biker had already closed the distance. He was maybe ten feet behind them.

And he was repositioning his shotgun.

It looked like he was trying to get the gun into position so that he could fire it at them while still riding the motorcycle.

“What’s he doing?” Rob’s voice was anxious. A little high-pitched.

“Trying to shoot us. Maybe blow out a tire.”

“Right now?” Fear in his voice, ducking his head down a little.

“He’s not going to be able to make it. This isn’t the movies. There’s no way he can ride that thing one-handed.”

Jessica was getting into position, trying to get to where she could get as far out the window as she needed to be.

But it was harder than it looked, and it seemed that to get the angle on the shot she’d need, she’d have to be really hanging out of the Subaru. And that didn’t seem possible, unless she wanted to fall.

Again, this wasn’t the movies.

“Aren’t you going to shoot him?”

“I can’t get the angle.”

“Why not?”

“Just shut up and drive.”

This wasn’t the time to have to explain everything to Rob.

Jessica was again spun around in her seat, watching the guy on the bike.

He was close.

Very close.

Still fumbling with the shotgun.

What an amateur.

Suddenly, Jessica had an idea. She didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of it before. Or Rob, for that matter.

“OK, Rob. You’ve got to listen to me.”

“What?” Rob’s voice made it sound like he was losing control. And that’s not what would help them right now. But there was no time to get him calmed down. He just needed to be able to follow her instructions.

“Just do what I say. No arguing. OK, on the count of three, you’re going to hit the brakes. And hit them hard. Really slam on them.”

“The brakes? The car’s off. They’re not going to work.”

“They’ll work, trust me. You’ve got to hit them really hard. Use both feet. Really jam them down. I’ll pull the emergency brake while you’re doing that.”

“But, wait…”

Jessica had once, long ago, been in a car that had suddenly quit in the middle of a commute. Her mother had slammed on the brakes, and the car had stopped. Jessica may not have understood how it worked, but in this situation, total knowledge of the mechanics didn’t really matter.

“But…” Rob was still protesting. He was starting to freak out.

“Now!” Jessica screamed right in his ear. There wasn’t any time to try to be calm with him, to try to coax him through this. He just needed to do it.

With both feet, Rob slammed on the brakes.

Jessica seized the emergency brake lever that sat between the seats. She yanked it as hard as she could.

The Subaru jolted. The tires screeched. Jessica was thrown forward, her seatbelt catching her and digging hard into her chest.

Mere seconds later, there was another jolt, and a tremendous noise. The motorcycle behind them had crashed into the Subaru.

Just as Jessica had suspected, the biker hadn’t had enough time to swerve or brake to avoid the Subaru. He’d been too busy trying to get his shotgun into position, and by trying to hold it, he’d lost the crucial ability to maneuver as he’d needed to.

There wasn’t any time to waste.

Jessica’s hand went to her seatbelt button, jamming against the button.

It was stuck.

“Shit,” she muttered.

Rob seemed dazed, and he was mumbling something.

Jessica glanced in the mirror, but she couldn’t see the biker. She knew that it wasn’t likely that he was dead. He was still there. And he still had the shotgun. He was still a threat.

Jessica dug into her pocket, looking for her knife. But it wasn’t there.

Of course it wasn’t there. They’d taken it from her when she’d been kidnapped and tied up.

“Rob, give me your knife. Quick.”

“What’s that?”

Rob sounded dazed. Maybe he’d hit his head.

There wasn’t any time to waste. The seconds were ticking by. Each new second meant that the chance of danger was increasing. All it’d take was for the biker not to be so critically wounded that he couldn’t wield his shotgun.

Jessica reached over and dug her hand into the pocket of Rob’s jeans. She hoped his knife was on her side.

It was. She removed her hand, clutching the knife. With one hand, she flicked it open.

In a single stroke, she sliced through her seatbelt, pulling the blade away from herself.

She was free. She opened the door, stepped out, keeping herself low and behind the Subaru for cover.

The biker was moaning in pain. From somewhere unseen.

Jessica moved quickly, slightly ducking, to the back of the car.

The motorcycle was tangled up with the Subaru’s rear bumper. It lay partially under the Subaru.

There were streaks of bright blood on the pavement that formed a trail that led away from the Subaru.

Jessica followed the trail. The knife was in her hand. It was still opened, and her fingers tightened around the handle. With each step, she stood up straighter, growing less fearful of the man who had kidnapped her and tormented her.

She saw him now. He’d crawled his away off the road. He’d almost reached a tree. The shotgun lay a few feet behind him on the road. Apparently, he’d abandoned it.

There was blood all around him. She couldn’t tell where it was coming from, or what exactly his injuries were.

But it didn’t matter what they were. She knew what she had to do.

With long, purposeful strides, Jessica reached him.

In a single motion, she grabbed his head by the hair, pulled it back, and, with her other hand, ran the knife across his neck.

There was a gurgling noise. Blood came from his mouth.

And that was it. Thirty seconds later, he was dead, his body lying unmoving in blood that was pooling up around him on the dirt.

Jessica gazed down at him, expecting to feel something. But she felt nothing. Nothing except satisfaction that she had lived through another dangerous encounter, that at the end of it, she’d been the one who’d lived.

She leaned down and ran her hands across his pockets and his belt, looking for anything that might be useful. On a carabiner attached to his belt loop, there was a ring of keys. She took it and pocketed it. In another pocket, she found her own knife, plus another, one that she recognized as a Buck 110.

Jessica left him there, and, picking the shotgun up from the ground, she went back to the Subaru to check on Rob.

He was awake, but he still seemed dazed. His hands were vaguely fumbling with his seatbelt.

“It’s a good thing the airbags didn’t go off,” said Jessica, surveying the situation. “You OK, Rob?”

“Yeah, I think so,” said Rob, seeming a little more ‘with it’ now that Jessica addressed him directly again.

“Come on,” she said, using her bloody knife to slice through Rob’s seatbelt. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

“The car?” said Rob.

“We’re leaving it here.”

“Leaving it here?”

“It doesn’t work. Remember? The power cut off as we were driving.”

“Oh, yeah…”

“Come on. We’ve got to go.”

Jessica had to actually grab Rob under his armpits and pull on him until he started to use his own muscles to actually get out of the seat.

She helped him pull himself upright, and he leaned against the side of the Subaru, swaying slightly. He gazed off towards the dead biker with the blood around him.

“Shit,” said Rob.

“Don’t worry about him. I took care of him. Come on.”

“What are we going to do with the car?”

“Leave it,” said Jessica. “We’re not going to be able to fix it.”

Jessica’s mind was rushing through the possibilities. Rob wasn’t really cognizant enough to discuss it with him. She had to figure it out herself, and simply tell him what they needed to do.

There was the possibility that they could fix the Subaru, even though Jessica didn’t know how to do it herself. And she guessed that repairing it was beyond the capabilities of even Jim, who was the handiest of all them.

It’d be a huge blow to lose the Subaru.

But at least it wasn’t loaded down with their gear, which was safely at the lake house.

They might be able to get another vehicle. After all, people would be dying off like flies in the coming days and weeks, leaving their vehicles behind them to be scavenged by people like Jessica.

Trying to hang onto the Subaru meant hiding it somewhere on the side of the road. Or just leaving it in the road.

Hiding it meant expending a lot of energy and time. Energy that they didn’t have. Rob was in a daze. And she wasn’t doing much better. Her head ached and her muscles were burning from struggling against the cords that had bound her.

It was better to just leave the Subaru there.

“Come on,” said Jessica. “Help me get this bike upright. Maybe there’s a chance we can start it.”

She was surveying the motorcycle, and it didn’t look promising. She doubted it would run.

But it didn’t hurt to try.

“What’s that?” said Rob.

“Did you hit your head or something?”

“I think so. The crash or something.”

“Great, now we’ve both been hit in the head. Let’s hope you snap out of it soon.”

22

ALY

“Jordan! Come on. Wake up!”

She was screaming into his ear. She was shaking him as best she could.

But his eyes were closed, and his breathing was shallow. He wasn’t dead, but he was dead to the world. And dead to the flames that had already overtaken the living room.

She couldn’t believe how fast the flames had spread. The room had lit up like a pile of tinder.

She knew she was going to have to make a decision. And she knew that time was running out.

Jordan wasn’t waking up. Not anytime soon.

Aly could feel the intense heat of the flames. If Jordan could sleep through the heat and the growing roar of the flames, he’d sleep through any attempt of hers to wake him from his drunken slumber.

Aly wasn’t about to let herself get burned alive. In just a few seconds, she’d have to decide whether to leave Jordan there to be burned alive, or to try to drag him out through the flames. If she tried to save him, she’d be risking her own life. After all, her own ability to save herself was already severely diminished by her injuries.

Well, she’d test it out first. See how hard it was to drag him.

She seized him under the armpits and started to pull. She pulled as hard as she could.

It wasn’t any good. He moved about an inch, his body sliding just a little against the wall.

The flames were closer. It felt like they were closing in around her.

She needed to get out of there.

It was one of the most difficult decisions she’d ever made, but there were no tears in her eyes when she let go of her uncle and turned her back to his unconscious body, ready to face the flames herself, ready to escape with her own life intact.

The smoke was filling the room now, plumes and clouds of dense gray stuff that she could barely see through.

Aly’s mind didn’t dwell on her uncle. Instead, now that she directly faced the flames, her body kicked into survival mode. Her body was flooded with adrenaline.

She barely remembered that she was injured. She pushed her way through the flames, coughing intensely, trying to ignore the intense heat that her body was desperately telling her to avoid.

She knew that she needed to get out quickly. The smoke was too thick now.

She had to keep pushing. She had to ignore the coughing. Her lungs were burning. The air was intensely hot. She felt like she couldn’t breathe at all.

She couldn’t see. The air was nothing but red and gray. Nothing but smoke and flames. But she kept going.

It felt like an eternity, but finally, her hands found the door.

The door handle was as hot as a burning coal. But she had no choice. She grasped it and turned it, yelling involuntarily in pain as she did so.

She was halfway out the door when she took one last look inside, thinking, hope against hope, that her uncle was somehow behind her.

But he wasn’t. She could see nothing but the smoke and the flames.

That last look only took a second. But it felt like a long time. But he wasn’t. She could see nothing but the smoke and the flames.

She burst into the fresh open air, doubling over as she coughed instinctively.

Aly saw stars as she started to vomit, the entire contents of her stomach coming up and spewing onto the ground. And she kept coughing.

She felt weak, and the burning in her lungs wouldn’t let up.

She was a safe distance from the house now, and she collapsed to the ground. She simply lay there on her side, gasping for breath, too weak to move or stand up.

She was gazing back at the house, which was quickly becoming engulfed in flames.

Those flames were engulfing not just her uncle, but all of their possessions. All that food. All those supplies. Everything that they’d worked so hard to obtain and hang on to.

It wasn’t just terrible. It might mean the line between life and death.

And then she remembered the stolen supplies. If they were recovered, maybe there was still a chance.

Her thoughts turned to her husband. She felt a yearning for him, a longing, an intense hope that he was safe and alive, ready to return soon.

From behind her, she heard a sound. The low rumbling of an engine. But not a car engine. Something bigger.

Struggling, she flopped herself over so that she could face the driveway and the road.

There were just a couple trees in between her and the road. She was basically out in the open.

Her hand instinctively dug into her pocket, trying to find her pocketknife. But it wasn’t there. Maybe it’d been on the bedside table. Or maybe it’d fallen out of her pocket. She didn’t know.

The vehicle was a familiar one. It was a single, large RV. Maybe one of the ones that had driven by earlier. Maybe not. But chances were that it was.

What did they want? Had they seen the smoke rising to the sky from across the lake? Had they come to help or to take advantage of those in distress?

Whatever they wanted, Aly didn’t want to deal with them. On a day like today, at a time like this, strangers didn’t mean good news. Everyone was a potential threat.

The RV pulled partly into the driveway and crawled to a stop.

Aly waited. She wanted to run. She wanted to hide. She wanted to do anything but be there, simply waiting.

But she couldn’t. Getting out of the house had taken everything out of her.

With the house burning behind her, she watched as the door opened, and two people stepped out and onto the driveway. They pointed to the house and then began scanning the surrounding area. It didn’t take them long to spot Aly. They pointed to her, and then began walking towards her.

“Shit,” muttered Aly, clutching the knife tighter.

“Hello there!” called out the man, speaking in a jovial way that somehow seemed completely fake. He stopped near her. A woman about his age stood next to him. “Now what do we have here?” He leaned forward, as if to get a better look at Aly.

“Looks like we’re going to have some fun after all,” said the woman, chuckling to herself.

“I told you not to give up hope. When there’s disaster, there’s hedonism.”

Hedonism? What were they talking about? They seemed like strange people. Very strange. They gave off a weird vibe, and something looked strange about their eyes, as if their pupils were somehow too small.

“Don’t come any closer,” shouted Aly, using all her energy to raise the knife, brandishing it towards them.

“There’s no need for that,” laughed the man. “Come on. We’re not going to hurt you.”

“Not yet, at least,” said the woman, smiling wildly. “But plenty of people find that they enjoy BDSM. I know I do.”

“We practice a variation,” said the man. “It’s more painful.”

“And more dangerous.”

“But a lot more fun.”

“For us, at least.”

They approached her together, taking steps towards her.

Aly was simply too weak. As they got closer, she was overtaken with a coughing fit. Her lungs still burned.

She wasn’t even able to swing the knife before strong arms seized her arm and held it in place. Before she knew it, the knife was wrenched from her hands as the man and woman laughed.

They kept laughing all the way back to the RV. They carried her, and she was too tired to do much more than kick a single time at one of them. But it was a weak blow and it merely glanced off the man’s side, making him laugh all the harder.

“It’s more fun when they fight back a little, isn’t it?” he said.

“That’s right. Now get the rope.”

“I think it’s behind the driver’s seat.”

“No, don’t you remember? It’s hanging up by the bathroom.”

“I’ll get it.”

“Get me my pills, while you’re at it.”

“You’ve had enough.”

“I didn’t know we were rationing now? I thought we were going out in style.”

“Fine, I’ll get them.”

Aly was overtaken again by a coughing fit as the woman held her down on the floor of the RV. The man tied ropes tightly around her.

Her face was pressed against the floor. She heard the RV engine start, and felt the RV back up.

She hoped someone would find her. Though maybe it was too much to hope for.

23

JIM

Jim was more than exhausted, but as he neared the lake house and saw the plumes of gray smoke in the sky, he quickened his pace.

He didn’t know how long he’d been walking for, or for how long he’d been away for. He still had his watch, but to his tired brain, the hands on the dial didn’t seem to mean anything. What’s more, he had no idea what time he’d left.

He only knew that he’d been away for a long time. Long enough, apparently, for something serious to happen.

His view of the house was, for a good while, obscured by the trees. But as he got closer, he saw more of the smoke. And he could smell it.

Something was burning. Something big.

And that something, whatever it was, was right where the lake house was.

It wasn’t hard to figure out what was burning.

Jim thought of his wife. He quickened his pace, breaking into a run.

His muscles burned as he ran, and he felt like he was gasping for air, but he kept going.

When he finally came around a group of trees, he saw the house. He saw the flames, rising high.

It was immediately clear there was no saving the house. It was an inferno, burning hot and wild. There’d be no entering that house without dying.

Jim’s eyes immediately began scanning the yard and the surrounding area, hoping to see someone, hoping to see Aly.

But there was no one.

Jim didn’t let himself panic. That’d only make him less effective. He focused on his breathing, keeping it as calm and steady as he could in his state.

And there it was. A sound. Beyond the roar of the fire, he heard it. It was an engine. Rumbling and low. But not that far off.

Jim didn’t waste any time. He sprinted as fast as his exhausted body would allow down to the driveway. By the time he reached the road, he was panting and out of breath.

But it was worth it. Down the road, he could see it.

The RV.

It was far enough away that it looked small. He couldn’t make out the markings, but the size and shape of it looked just like the RV he’d seen earlier.

The RV was too far away to get a shot off. He’d miss by a mile.

But it wasn’t too far to run after.

Sure, there was every chance in the world that he wouldn’t catch up with them. He was just one lone man, tired and exhausted, trying to catch his breath. And he’d be up against a diesel-burning RV, with who knows how much horsepower.

And Jim didn’t even know who was in the RV. It was a long shot. His wife, not to mention the others, might be dead in the burning house right now. Or close to dying. But Jim had no chance of rescuing them if that was the case.

If they were in that RV, taken prisoner or hostage, then there was at least a chance of rescuing them.

It wasn’t the kind of strategy that worked in poker. But it sometimes worked in real life.

There were so many “ifs” that it all seemed crazy.

But he had to try. No one else was there. There were no other options.

Jim didn’t waste any time. He’d made up his mind. He started running.

He was already losing sight of the RV. It didn’t seem to be going fast, but it was going a lot faster than he was.

But he kept going.

After all, if there was a chance, however small, that he could save someone, or do something, then he had to take it. Worrying about the fire, the burning fire, and all the problems that would result from it, was pointless now. Completely and utterly pointless. And not just that, but an actual determiner to what he could potentially accomplish.

The day had been a long and gray one. The sun wasn’t yet setting, but the light was already getting low.

Jim had already been through his second and third wind. He didn’t have a fourth one in him.

But he still ran.

He was pushing with everything he had. His stomach was empty. His throat was dry from not drinking anything in ages. His head ached and his vision was blurry around the edges.

He kept his eyes focused on the RV.

And somehow, as he kept running, he was getting closer to the RV. It wasn’t just a little speck at the very edge of what he could see. It was getting bigger. Slowly, yes, but surely.

Had the RV stopped?

He kept running, and after a couple minutes, he was sure that the RV had stopped. He was getting closer with each step. He just had to push.

By the time he got there, he felt like he might collapse right onto the ground.

The RV was just sitting there, parked with two wheels off the road and two wheels on it.

Jim had his gun in his hand. His finger was inside the trigger guard. Right on the trigger. Already putting just the slightest bit of pressure on it. Maybe not the best practice. But these weren’t the safest of circumstances. His life might depend on a split-second reaction.

Jim pushed the door open. It swung wildly and slammed into something.

Someone screamed. A woman’s voice.

Jim leveled the gun, holding it with both hands. His legs were shaking, and so were his arms. But he tried to keep everything steady, spreading his legs shoulder-width apart.

Aly was on the floor in the space that functioned as the kitchen. She was face-down, with ropes binding her.

Jim recognized the other two people. They were the creepy couple he’d encountered earlier. He should have known they’d be trouble. Maybe he had known.

The woman had her hands in the air. She’d been the one who’d screamed.

The man didn’t react at all. He looked like he was on drugs, with his face going all droopy in a weird way. “I thought you’d never come,” he slurred. “Now we can really have some fun. Put that silly gun down and come join us on the bed. We’ll untie this woman when she’s ready. She looks like she’d be plenty of fun. Don’t you think?”

From the ground, Aly let out a muffled scream of “Help me.” Her face was pressed against the floor.

Meanwhile, the woman still had her hands in the air. But she wasn’t standing still. She was inching towards the small microwave and the kitchen sink.

Jim’s mind was jumpy with fatigue. His body was switching between feeling like he might fall asleep and as if he was pumped up on adrenaline. He was shaky and felt like he might simply collapse, no matter what state his mind was in.

He saw her hand moving in a jumpy way, as if it was lit by a strobe light. But he wasn’t going to let his fatigue interfere.

She already had the kitchen knife in her hand.

Jim was acting slowly.

But it wasn’t too late.

Jim trained the gun on her. Pulled the trigger.

She fell to the ground, the knife clattering somewhere on the floor.

Aly cried out, not able to see what was happening.

The man on the bed was somehow no longer on the bed.

Jim must have been really losing it. Losing his mind to extreme exhaustion.

The man was almost at Jim, his face contorted into some insanely intense emotion. He was scrambling, his arms flailing.

Jim was barely keeping it together. He was just getting flashes of what was happening, all of it jumbling together like a bad dream.

But he knew what he had to do.

His muscle memory wasn’t going to let him down. All those hours at the target range had been for something, after all.

The gun was as steady as it was going to get. It was aimed right at the man, who was inches away from Jim.

Jim squeezed the trigger.

The man fell. Right at Jim’s feet.

Jim didn’t know if he was dead. So he gave the body a kick to see if it would respond. It did. The man grunted in pain. Jim pressed the gun into the man’s temple and pulled the trigger.

Now he was dead.

Next, Jim moved to the woman. She was already dead. Blood was pooling up around her.

Jim grabbed the kitchen knife from the floor and cut Aly loose. She smelled like fire, and there was soot all over her. She looked exhausted and in pain.

Jim pulled her to her feet.

“You OK?” he said.

She nodded. “I was expecting you.”

“Sorry if I was late.”

“I’m fine. You came just in time.”

“The others? Were they in the house?”

“Rob and Jessica… they were gone… don’t know where… It was just Jordan. He was passed out. I tried to… I couldn’t…”

Jim put his arm around his wife and held her close to him. They were both unsteady on their feet, but somehow they managed to remain standing.

“What do we do now?” said Aly.

“I don’t know.”

24

ROB

Rob was feeling a little better. He hadn’t really hit his head that hard. Instead, it had just been the shock of the accident that had somehow made his brain go all weird and fuzzy. He was annoyed and upset at himself. He felt like he’d been weak.

Jessica had tried to convince him that it wasn’t the case, but eventually she got annoyed of constantly trying to make him feel better, and they spent the next couple of hours walking together in silence back to the lake house.

The motorcycle had not been salvageable. So they’d just opted to leave it there along with the Subaru.

They’d taken what few items from the Subaru that might prove useful sometime in the future: some flares, a knife that had been in the glove box, two LED flashlights, and a couple of energy bars that Jim had apparently stashed by the spare tire years ago, forgetting about them. They were a few years past the expiration date, not that it mattered in times like these. They might end up tasting a little stale, but it’d still work for calories.

It was night now, the sun having set hours ago. There was a chill to the air. They walked along the roadside, and not a single car passed.

It was a dark night. The clouds were out, and they had to use their flashlights to see. But they didn’t keep them on all the time. Instead, they just flicked them on when they needed. This way, they’d preserve the batteries, and also make themselves less visible for whoever might be out there.

It was strange, passing houses that were completely dark. They should have been used to it by now, but they weren’t. Or at least Rob wasn’t. Jessica wasn’t talking, after all.

Jessica was good with directions, and she led them.

Finally, after what seemed like an entire day of walking, but had really just been several hours, they were getting close to the lake.

It felt good to almost be back. Rob’s legs were aching just from the walk alone. He couldn’t remember a time that he’d walked this much, let alone on so few calories.

Before the EMP, he’d been content to lounge on the couch, throwing back a couple beers, watching whatever happened to be on. He’d really liked watching nature shows, the ones where they show animals savagely devouring each other. Back then, the natural world had been something to marvel at, not something to participate in.

Now Rob and his friends were just like those animals. They were going to eat or be eaten. Not literally, of course. Well, so long as things didn’t get really bad. Not that Rob would ever do that. The idea repulsed him. But he wouldn’t put it past others. People were sick and messed up, no matter who they were or where they came from. Rob had known that for a long time. At every job he’d ever managed to hold onto for a couple weeks, he’d inevitably find that some normal-seeming coworker was, in fact, nothing more than a psychopath in disguise. Or, at the very least, someone with very serious problems.

And now all those people weren’t stuck at work. They weren’t stuck trying to make a living, trying to gather up enough currency to be able to pay rent and afford food and entertainment. No, now they were out in the wild, where their hard-earned money was no good, and they’d do whatever they could do to survive. Just like everyone else.

It was enough to give Rob shivers down his back, the kind that he used to get when he’d watched scary movies.

“Hey,” whispered Jessica, nudging him. “You see that up there?”

“Huh? Why are you whispering?” said Rob, speaking much too loudly.

“In case someone’s here. Keep it quiet, would you?”

Up ahead, there was something. It was something red, glowing.

“What’s that?”

“Fire?”

“Fire? But shouldn’t the lake house be right there?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe we got lost.”

“Let’s hope so, because it’s looking more and more like fire.”

The closer they got, the more it became apparent that it was fire. Or, more accurately, the end of a large fire. The flames weren’t intense, but those kinds of low, glowing flames you get when a fire had already consumed most of the material available.

“You think that’s the lake house?”

“Yeah. Look around you. That’s definitely the lake house. Don’t you recognize the trees? The driveway?”

“It’s dark. How can you see anything?”

“I guess you just have worse eyesight.”

“There’s no need to snap at me.”

“I’m not snapping.”

Rob shrugged it off. They were tired, and people got snippy when they were tired. Not to mention hungry.

He was more concerned about what it meant that the lake house had apparently burned to the ground.

They got closer now, close enough to feel some of the heat coming off the fire.

It was definitely the lake house they were looking at. Or its remains. The house had been completely consumed by fire, and the remains of the walls and ceiling had collapsed inwards. What was left was just a smoldering pile of wood, with flames lapping at the edges.

The smell was horrible, as if something unnatural had been burned, almost like plastic, but not quite.

“This isn’t good,” said Rob.

“Understatement of the year.”

“Do you think they’re…”

“Dead? Why not just come out and say it?”

Rob didn’t answer. Instead, he moved closer to the burning house, using his elbow to partially cover his face, trying to protect himself a little from the smoke.

Jessica was at his side.

“If there’s anyone in there, there’s no saving them.”

“What do we do?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“Why? Do you?”

Not knowing what to do, not knowing what had happened to the others, and knowing that there was no way they could salvage anything useful from the house, they retreated back to a clump of trees.

They huddled up, getting close to the trunk. They sat back-to-back, but even so, they were shivering in the cool air. Rob could feel Jessica’s back as she shivered, and it unnerved him. It was hard to viscerally feel that she was cold, and it was hard to know that Jessica, who always seemed to have everything together, who always seemed to know what to do, was at just as much of a loss as he was.

Sitting there in the dark, Rob felt hopeless. The idea was to keep an eye out. If the others had lived, they’d hopefully return to the house hoping to meet up with Rob and Jessica.

“You think they died?” came Jessica’s voice in the darkness. It sounded hollow and scared.

“No,” said Rob. “Come on. There’s no way. We don’t know what caused the fire, but whatever it was, they would have had time to leave the house, right? It’s not exactly big. It’s definitely no mansion.”

“Yeah,” said Jessica. “But if that was the case, wouldn’t they have just put out the fire?”

“Uh, I guess. Maybe they couldn’t, though?”

“Come on. If it was a candle or something, they could put it out. Hit it with a rug, pour some water on it, whatever it takes.”

“Then what do you think happened?”

“Some kind of fight.”

“A fight?”

“You know, a home invasion. Something like that. They swoop in, kill everyone, and burn the house down.”

The thought gave Rob those chills again. Chills of fear. After all, it was a real possibility.

He might never see Jim or Aly again.

The two of them fell into silence, and, gradually, the night wore on. The hours passed, and nothing happened. No one showed up. There were no noises, other than the noises of animals. No cars drove by, and no lights shone.

They remained almost in the same position until morning.

Jessica had fallen asleep, and Rob had felt like it was his duty to stay awake and keep watch. She’d been kidnapped after all. And possibility tortured. She hadn’t told him what had happened to her, and he hadn’t asked.

Rob had been running through the options in his head.

Meanwhile, he’d been observing the fire, watching as it slowly died, leaving glowing embers mixed into the rubble of the house.

He realized that once the sun came up, there’d be no choice but to start searching through the rubble for the remains of his friends. Bones would certainly remain, and possibly more. Rob didn’t really know, but he knew there’d be something.

Of course, if they did find human remains, what did that mean? They’d be hard-pressed, most likely, to identify those remains.

But it would give them something. Some information.

And if they found no one? No remains? Well, that’d be good. They’d have to wait around by the lake for a few days, to see if Jim and the others reappeared. And if not? Or if they found the remains of three people in the house?

Then it meant Rob and Jessica were on their own.

It was a possibility that Rob didn’t want to admit to, but he knew that he had to. He very well might have to face it.

It was a terrifying prospect. He’d always known that he relied on Jim, but he’d never quite realized just how much. Even before the EMP, Jim had always been there for him. To give support. Or simply doing nothing more than drinking a cup of coffee silently with him when things weren’t going well for either of them.

“Jessica,” whispered Rob, poking Jessica as gently as he could with his elbow. “Come on. The sun’s out.”

Saying that the sun was out was a bit of an exaggeration. It was upstate New York, after all, and the sky was heavy with the usual clouds.

“What’s happening?” mumbled Jessica. “Where’s the coffee?”

She clearly didn’t know where she was, and it would have been funny if she wasn’t about to realize what had happened to the world, and that not only did she not have any coffee waiting for her, there wasn’t much food either.

“Come on, Jessica. Let me help you up.”

He took her hands and pulled her to her feet. She turned sleepily and saw the house, and Rob could see on her face that it was all coming back to her.

“Shit,” she muttered.

“My thoughts exactly.”

Rob explained what he’d thought about all night, and she agreed, for the most part, with his plan.

They didn’t bother with breakfast, except to drink some water from the lake. They didn’t have bottles, so they just cupped their hands together and drank water from them.

“I hope this is clean,” said Rob.

“Clean as we’re going to get now.”

And it was true.

Next, they checked the house.

Overnight, what had been left of the flames had died down. The house was gone. Completely. It was just a pile of smoking rubble, all blackened.

Everything was still hot to the touch, but they were able to walk over the rubble. Of course, they had to be careful.

“Let’s hope we don’t find any bodies,” Rob was mumbling, more to himself than to Jessica.

Just as he said it, he spotted a body. It was in the corner of the house.

He’d tried to mentally prepare himself for the sight during the night, but what he’d imagined in his head was very different from what he saw now. He’d imagined some charred bones, maybe a skull. Something out of some scary movie, almost cartoonish in nature.

But what he saw shocked him.

It wasn’t a skeleton.

Instead, it looked more like a bloated doll, some grotesque representation of the human form. And it was all completely blackened, the way a marshmallow gets when you hold it too long over the flame.

Rob stood there, frozen, staring at it. In all likelihood, it was one of his friends.

“Jessica,” he whispered. “You’ve got to see this.”

“What?”

Jessica arrived at his side, saw the burned corpse, and immediately vomited. She leaned down, bending over, vomiting out what little was left in her stomach.

It wasn’t really solid, more like some off-color gunk, something you might find at the bottom of an old swimming pool.

Vomiting was an understandable reaction, given what they were looking at. Their pre-EMP lives hadn’t prepared them for such sights. No amount of scary movies with Hollywood effects could have prepared anyone for this.

“You OK?”

“Fine.”

“You see any more bodies?”

“No.”

There wasn’t any point in looking for identifying characteristics of the corpse. Everything was burned beyond anything Rob had seen before.

They kept looking, combing over every inch of the rubble.

There were no more corpses.

“So this must mean that…”

“Let’s not bother with that,” snapped Jessica. “We don’t know who that is over there. Let’s not make any assumptions that are going to hinder what we’re going to do now.”

“Fair enough. And what is it that we’re going to do now?”

“Look for the others.”

“Where?”

“I thought we talked about this. You’re the one with the plan.”

“Yeah, but…”

“Don’t let the corpse affect you. We’ve got to keep on going.”

After a quick trip to the lake, so that the dehydrated Jessica could get another drink, they set off down the road that led, more or less, around the lake.

The plan was to search the area for their friends. Or any sign of them. Before leaving the burned house, they decided they needed to leave some sort of message, in case the others were alive and returned.

They tried carving a message in a piece of bark, but it was harder than it seemed to actually write out words. In the end, they settled for “J+R, BRB.” It was internet or phone slang, and Rob knew that Jim, having worked on so many broken cell phones, would know what it meant.

They set off down the road, not feeling like there was much hope at all. Rob tried to keep his growing despair hidden from Jessica because he knew that it wouldn’t be helpful. But he did wonder if she wasn’t doing the exact same thing as he was.

They hadn’t gone very far when they spotted an RV parked just off the road. Two wheels were on the road, and two were off.

“Is that…?”

“That’s the RV I saw with Jim. The exact same one.”

“You sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

“The one with the creeps?”

“The exact same one.”

“Should we check it out?”

“What choice do we have?”

With their guns drawn, a shotgun and a handgun respectively, they knocked on the door. Jessica hung a little back, in case something happened. Something like a shotgun blast to the door.

Rob waited, then knocked again.

“No answer?”

“You’d have heard it, wouldn’t you?”

“There’s no need to get snappy with me.”

“What should we do?”

“What are you waiting for? Go in.”

Rob shrugged and tried the handle. To his surprise, it was open.

It was a little darker in the RV than it was outside, but there was still plenty of light to see by.

At this point, after what he’d been through, he’d thought that nothing would surprise him. But as he took in the scene inside the RV, his jaw dropped.

There were four bodies on the floor. There was blood on the ground. Blood all over, really. It had pooled up here and there, and run across the floor, which was at a slight incline.

Two of the bodies he recognized.

They were Jim and Aly.

“Rob? Everything OK?”

Rob was choking back tears as he said, “There’s nothing to see in here. Don’t bother coming in.” He wanted to spare Jessica from this sight. He wasn’t exactly sure why. It was just an instinct. It was just what came to him.

But she ignored him, of course.

“What the hell?” she exclaimed.

Suddenly, one of the bodies stirred.

Someone wasn’t completely dead.

Rob leveled the shotgun at the body.

“What are you doing?” shrieked Jessica. “That’s Jim!”

Rob had reacted instinctively and quickly, too tired to actually realize he was pointing the shotgun at his best friend.

“Shit,” he muttered, rushing over to Jim, stepping on one of the other bodies as he did so.

“What’s going on?” came Jim’s voice.

His voice was hoarse and he sounded strange. But he was alive.

25

JIM

The last thing Jim remembered was discharging his gun.

He had a vague idea that he was in an RV. And that Aly was with him. And that he’d been tired. Very tired. More tired than he’d ever been.

And that was it.

And now Rob and Jessica were peering down at him, asking him what seemed like a million questions at the same time.

Jim’s head throbbed and his muscles burned. Slowly, the events of yesterday started coming back to him, images that flashed across his mind. Images of the lake. Swimming. Almost drowning. Stashing the gear. Aly.

“Aly?” croaked Jim, his throat painfully dry.

“I’m working on it,” came Jessica’s reply.

“Aly, Aly, wake up, Aly.”

Jim was involuntarily holding his breath, waiting to hear what had happened to his wife. He managed to turn over, with Rob’s hands helping him, so that he faced Aly

There wasn’t blood around her.

It seemed like too much to hope that she’d be alive.

“Morning,” mumbled Aly. Her voice was sleepy. But it was her voice. And she was alive.

Jim stood up abruptly, unsteady on his feet. Rob tried to hold him back, but Jim staggered forward until he’d reached his wife. He tried to hug her from his standing position, but soon he collapsed to the floor, his arms wrapped around her.

“I can’t believe you two are alive,” said Rob. “We thought…”

“So, you saw the house?” said Aly.

“The house?” said Jim. He felt like there was a memory there, but he couldn’t quite get to it.

“It burned down,” said Aly. “Didn’t you see it?”

The memory came in a flash. The flames. The collapsing walls.

“I must have been hit on the head harder than I thought.”

“Join the club,” said Jessica.

Slowly, Jim started to wake up. The throbbing in his head was still there, but someone handed him a glass of water, and it seemed to help.

Soon, all four of them were talking at the same time, each of them telling their story to the others. Jim didn’t end up talking much, and instead of telling every detail of his story, he listened attentively to what had happened to the others. But Jim had always been like that, more or less, knowing that he had more to learn from others. For what information he needed to impart, he tried to keep it as succinct as possible.

Jessica and Rob described the body they’d seen in the house, and Aly recounted her story of what had happened to Jordan, how he’d been passed out drunk, and she’d done everything she could to save him.

No one was particularly upset about losing Jordan, least of all Aly. He hadn’t been good to anyone, and in his last moments, he’d decided to get drunk instead of protecting his niece like he should have been. It was almost a miracle that Aly had managed to get out of there alive.

It was also almost a miracle that nothing had happened to Jim and Aly after they’d passed out from exhaustion. They’d slept through the whole night in the RV with the door unlocked. No one had been watching. Neither of them would have been prepared for any kind of attack.

Jim didn’t waste any time feeling shame or embarrassment. He’d done everything he could. Sometimes things worked out that. He always did everything he could to prevent situations like that, but sometimes things simply didn’t work out the right way.

Somehow, before they knew it, an hour had passed, and they realized that they’d been sitting there talking with two dead bodies in the RV with them.

Jim and Jessica took it upon themselves to perform the grim task, dragging the bodies down the RV steps. They took them a little ways off the road and left them there. Burying them didn’t seem appropriate, considering the circumstances, and it would have taken a lot of manpower, not to mention calories. Calories that they couldn’t spare.

When they returned to the RV, Aly was going through the cupboards and handing things to Rob, all the while instructing him on how to prepare a breakfast.

“Just don’t go crazy,” advised Jim. “This food has got to last us a while.”

“But you managed to save the other stuff, right? The stuff that that fake cop guy, whatever his name was, stole?”

“Yeah,” said Jim, nodding. “But we’re going to have to go get it. After breakfast, I guess.”

“After breakfast?” said Jessica. “Why wait? We’re in an RV, after all. It’s a kitchen on wheels.”

They all laughed as much as their tired bodies would allow, and Jim used the keys he’d taken from the dead man, got into the driver’s seat, and started the engine.

“You know how to drive one of these things?” said Jessica.

“Not really.”

It turned out that it wasn’t that difficult. Then again, it wasn’t like there was any traffic.

Driving back around the lake in the RV was a lot easier than having to walk around it or having to swim across it.

As he drove, Rob was pouring out cereal, measuring out sugar, occasionally spilling things when they went over bumps. Aly was resting in a chair, observing and criticizing, and Jessica had taken it upon herself to review the entire RV to see what kind of supplies they had at their disposal.

“Lots of pills here,” she’d call out when she came across another stash of pills.

“Seems like that’s all they have.”

“Well, pretty much. There’s not much in the way of survival gear.”

“Hopefully no one’s stolen our stuff from where Jim stashed it.”

Jim ignored the chatter for the most part, and let his mind wander a little as he drove. He thought about what they would do next. It wasn’t just enough, after all, to have gear and supplies. Nor an RV.

No, they needed more than that. They needed a secure location. They needed to be strategic.

Maybe they could stay at the lake. But one couldn’t say that it had worked for them so far.

And now without a home, what reason did they have to stay at the lake? Sure, there were other empty houses that they could move into. But Jim found that now he had a different perspective on the post-EMP world. When it had happened, all he could think about was getting out of Rochester, getting far away.

Now he realized that there was more to it all than just getting out of the city. It was clear that the power wasn’t going to come back, and that society was just going to further disintegrate from here on out. They were in this for the long haul, and likely it’d be better to get even farther away.

“What’re you thinking about, Jim?” said Jessica, suddenly sliding herself into the passenger seat next to Jim.

“Where we’re headed next.”

“You’re thinking the same way I am, then. We can’t stay here.”

“I guess we could. But I don’t see a good reason to. And if we’re going to try to maximize our potential for survival, we’ve got to find a place where everything works out just right.”

“Stack the deck, you mean.”

“Yeah, if you want to use a card metaphor.”

“So where are we headed then?”

“Not sure yet.”

“How about Canada? Fewer people up there.”

“Too cold.”

“You’re from Rochester, aren’t you?”

“Born and raised.”

“And yet you’re afraid of a little cold?”

“Not afraid,” said Jim. “But the winter’s a different beast when you don’t have central heating. The idea is to find the perfect intersection of all the different variables. It’s not just about finding a place with fewer people. It’s about finding…”

“I get you,” said Jessica. “We need a place that’s easy to live at, yet no one else wants to go there.”

“It sounds impossible when you say it like that.”

“Yeah, it does.”

“We’ll do the best we can.”

“You really think we should leave?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe we should take a vote.”

Jim shook his head. “I’m going to get us out of this,” he said. “We’ll head to Pennsylvania.”

“Pennsylvania?”

Jim had simply opened his mouth and the words had come out, but now that he considered it, Pennsylvania wasn’t a bad option. It’d be a little warmer, and the northwestern part of the state was much less populated than the Eastern Seaboard.

“But why not go farther? Wyoming or something like that? We’ve got an RV. We can go as far as we want.”

“There isn’t much chance that we’ll be able to make it that far. Think about it, we need fuel for the RV. And fuel for us. If we drive across the country, we’ll be out in the open, not knowing where we are. Then we’ll be driven to do stupid things out of desperation, taking risks for gas and food. We’ll be sitting ducks, essentially.”

“Moving ducks, you mean,” said Jessica, apparently trying to make a joke.

“Targets, either way you look at it. Anyway, the shorter we keep our trip, the better off we’ll be.”

“But what about the owners of this RV? Didn’t they drive from across the country or something? They made it this far OK.”

“I don’t know if they were telling the truth. Look what they tried to do to my wife. And anyway, things are just going to get crazier from here on out. During the immediate aftermath of the EMP, a lot of people probably stayed put. Now they’ll be leaving their houses, and they’ll be desperate and hungry, ready to do anything to keep themselves and their families alive.”

“You’re saying they would have had an easier time of it when they were driving out?”

“Exactly. Who knows what things look like now.”

“You’re probably right. So, we go to Pennsylvania and then what? Find some abandoned house there?”

“Why get another house? We’ve already got one right here.”

“The RV?”

Jim nodded.

They were almost all the way around the lake, almost to the spot where Jim had hidden their gear and food.

“Stay in the RV?” said Jessica, sounding incredulous, and maybe a little annoyed. “Are you crazy? This thing is small. Ridiculously small.”

She was right. It might have been called a midsized RV. But really it was just a little larger than a large work van, the kind that plumbers used.

“There’s not enough space for us in here. There are four of us.”

“We’ll have to make it work,” said Jim.

“But why? Why not just find some house somewhere.”

“Hear me out,” said Jim. He felt much better now that he’d slept, and his mind was working rapidly, piecing together the plan as he spoke. “Now what’s the main disadvantage of a house?”

“The disadvantage? I don’t know if there are any. All I can think of are the advantages. Like shelter, warmth, a place to sleep. Walls and doors that help us defend ourselves. Keep the bad guys out. Way more security overall than an RV with tinfoil walls.”

“Well, here’s one huge disadvantage,” said Jim. “A house stays in the same place. All the time. It doesn’t move around.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty obvious. But you were just saying that we’re not going to have gas to simply drive the RV from one location to another. And that’s too dangerous and all that.”

“I’m not explaining myself well,” said Jim. “What I’m suggesting is that we hopefully make it down to Pennsylvania, scope out a good spot far out in the woods where no one goes, and then park the RV there. And live in it.”

“OK, I think I’m seeing where you’re going, but…”

“The thing is,” said Jim, cutting her off. He was starting to get excited about the idea. It seemed like it really might work. “With a house, everyone knows it’s there. It’s going to be on various maps, city plans, all sorts of papers that people can find. And people remember. They know where a house was. Sure, you can try to hide it. You can try to obscure the driveway with branches or something, but that really only goes so far.”

“Wait,” said Jessica. “Are you saying that what we do is park an RV out in the woods, and the advantage over a house will be no one knows it’s there, or ever was there?”

“Exactly.”

“You know, that’s really not such a bad idea. We’d be invisible, essentially.”

“As long as we get far enough out. I’d want to avoid places like state parks. Those are on the map.”

“Then what do we want?”

“Maybe some private land that’s not used. Someone who had too much land than they knew what to do with. Let it overgrow. Let it go to seed.”

“Private land? You really think that’s a good idea?”

“Definitely. It’s even less likely now than ever before that the owner would use it.”

“I guess the property deeds don’t really mean much now.”

Jim shook his head. “It’s a shame,” he said. “People worked for what they had, and now? Nothing. They’ve got nothing. The strongest will take what they want.”

“You’re getting off topic a little bit.”

“Breakfast is ready,” called out Rob, sounding a little overexcited, probably because he’d never been much of a cook.

“And I think it might actually be edible,” added Aly. “Thanks to my help.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you, Aly.”

Breakfast was a plate of fried sandwiches. Rob had combined canned ham and fried eggs, one of Aly’s makeshift recipes. He’d fried the pieces of white bread in so much oil that it was almost like deep frying, with the slices of bread completely submerged in the oil.

“Here you go,” said Rob, handing Jim a sandwich.

Jim reached back and grabbed the incredibly greasy sandwich, getting grease all over his hand.

“That’s delicious,” said Jim, taking his first bite, unable to stop chewing long enough to speak with his mouth closed.

And it really was. He hadn’t eaten anything in so long that the sandwich really could have been anything and he would have found it delicious.

But the sandwich really was good. The huge hit of fat, protein, and carbs was just what he needed. Jim knew that fat had more calories per unit of weight than carbs or protein, so deep frying the bread for the sandwiches really was a good idea. A good way to get some extra calories.

“We’re lucky to have all that coconut oil,” said Jessica.

“I just don’t want to know what they were doing with it in this RV.”

“Gross.”

“Don’t worry. We’re all too hungry for it to matter anyway.

“You’re right.”

A few minutes later, they’d reached the stash of stolen supplies that Jim had left. He stopped the RV, made a mental note of the fuel gauge position, and everyone except Aly set to work hauling all the gear into the RV.

It took them about ten minutes of many trips back and forth. It wasn’t hard work, and it was nice to have his stomach full for the first time in a long, long while. The food made his body feel warm and whole again. He made a mental note to keep eating plenty of coconut oil. It was an easy way they could get calories, and it would keep them warm in the winter. And after the coconut oil ran out? Maybe they’d be able to render deer fat for a similar product. After all, it wasn’t like they’d ever get any more coconut oil again. It was just one of countless food products that were shipped daily from far-off countries to the United States, and as far as Jim knew, that entire shipping system was as dead as disco, which itself now had absolutely no chance of a comeback, given that there was no electricity.

With the gear in the RV, there was considerably less space than before, but there were still places for everyone to sit. Aly, though, needed more rest and lay on the bed, which was permanently installed, compared to those folding types.

Everyone agreed with the plan that Jim and Jessica had come up with, but there was some concern that they wouldn’t actually be able to reach Pennsylvania. After all, even smaller RVs like the one they had were notorious gas guzzlers. Jim estimated that, at best, it might get something like twenty miles per gallon, and that was really pushing it. He could make sure to drive slowly, keeping off the accelerator as much as he could, but the RV was heavy, and his efforts would really only amount to so much.

So if they couldn’t make it to Pennsylvania, they’d settle for somewhere out of the way in the southeastern part of New York state. How far they got depended on the availability of gas, and the condition of the roads.

They really didn’t know what they were getting into. There was no traffic report. No news channel to watch, telling them that such and such a highway was clogged up with cars sitting bumper to bumper.

They’d just have to try it out and go from there. There was only so much planning they could do without any more information. And when the time came to make the decision on where to park the RV, they’d just have to go with their gut instincts.

26

ROB

Rob was OK with the plan. He figured that they’d done the best they could, right after the EMP. Heading to the lake house had been a good decision. Just because it hadn’t worked out in the end didn’t mean it’d been the wrong thing to do.

They were still alive. And they had a chance to keep living. Those were the things that mattered most.

Rob also figured that Jim knew better than he did. He didn’t totally trust himself. He’d improved somewhat, and at times he’d felt like he’d been on the right track. He’d done some good. He’d saved Jessica, but then again, he’d frozen up at the wrong moments, crucial points where he could have been more useful, like when he and Jessica had been escaping in the Subaru.

It hadn’t been that long since the EMP, but it had felt like a lifetime. Things had changed. For all of them. But for Rob in particular. He knew that his thoughts were different now. He thought about things in a completely new way. Instead of scrambling to pay his bills, or avoid getting his car towed, he was thinking about the really crucial things in life: food, shelter, and friends.

He knew very well that if he’d been on his own, he’d be a dead man. Likely, he would have starved to death or met his end trying to find food. Maybe a knife, or a bullet to the stomach. It wouldn’t have been pretty, whatever it would have been.

Rob had always heard that humans were social animals. Back in the pre-history times, humans had roamed the earth in small groups, hunting animals and finding edible plants, making medicine from their extensive, scientific-like knowledge of the environment in which they lived.

Those early humans wouldn’t have gotten far if they hadn’t been in groups. If they’d wandered, alone, or in pairs, they would have quickly met death, and the species as a whole would have never survived.

The modern pre-EMP world had, in a way, made everyone feel that they were in their own world. Before the EMP, rates of isolation were higher than they’d ever been. For the first time in history, people felt like they didn’t need anyone else. Sure, that wasn’t everybody, but Rob had noticed it in himself. And it’d made sense. After all, he’d been responsible for his own taxes, paying his own rent, buying his own food. Basically, everything he’d done had been for him and him alone. Sure, not everyone was in that situation, but plenty were.

Before the EMP, entertainment had been a huge industry, and it just so happened that the more the industry progressed, the more individualized entertainment had become. Decades earlier, families had clustered around their one radio, and then their one television. But right before the EMP, it wasn’t unusual for each family member to have not only their own TV, but their own computer, their own individual phone, and who knew what else. Families didn’t have to watch the same programs, which was good in a way, but overall it had probably made each person simply feel more cut off from everyone else.

And feeling cut off was no way to survive in a post-EMP world. Rob realized now more than ever that he had to rely not just on himself, but on Jim, Aly, and Jessica. Together, they had a chance. And on their own? Probably not much of one.

If, before the EMP, Rob and Jim and the others had had the foresight to connect with others in an informal sort of way, things might have gone a lot differently for them. For instance, they could have planned things out so that they’d have had not only a place to head after the EMP, but similarly minded people with whom they could trade goods and services with. Maybe someone would have a patch of potatoes, and another person would have a bunch of chickens.

That wasn’t to say that Rob had any problem with individualism. It might have seemed somewhat contradictory, but he felt more like an individualist now more than ever. After all, he knew that he was totally and completely responsible for his own survival. It wasn’t like there was any government or group that was going to step in and save him when things went bad. There wasn’t just no 911 system, but there were no fire departments either, nor hospitals, nor any other social services.

It was just Rob and his little bands of friends. Each one of them had to pull their weight, or the whole metaphorical boat could sink. They were each individuals, yet all part of a cohesive group that would help each one of them survive.

“You OK, Rob?” came Aly’s voice.

“Huh?” said Rob, realizing that he’d been staring out the window for quite a while, not paying attention to what had been going on around him. “Uh, yeah. I’m fine, why?”

“You look like you’re daydreaming or something.”

“Just thinking.”

“We’ve got a lot of that to do. Here, check these out. Turns out this RV is loaded with maps. Help me with them, would you?”

“Sure,” said Rob, as Aly handed him a couple of folded maps of the eastern states.

Rob glanced at the maps, and then back out the window for a moment.

Suddenly, he realized that what he was looking at was familiar. It was the same road that he’d been on just yesterday when he’d been trying to find Jessica.

They were right near Danny and Lonnie’s house. And about thirty seconds later, Rob spotted their house.

Something didn’t look right about it. Then Rob noticed it: the front door was hanging wide open, completely visible from the street.

“Stop!” cried out Rob, reacting on instinct, rather than thinking about what he was doing.

“What is it?” said Jim, from the driver’s seat, already slowing down the RV.

“I know the people who live there,” said Rob, who was already getting out of his seat.

The RV slowed to a complete stop, right in front of Danny and Lonnie’s house.

There was nothing else wrong with the house. There weren’t vehicles there that shouldn’t have been there. The blinds were drawn as usual.

But the front door shouldn’t have been like that.

“What’s the big deal?” said Aly, from the bed. “A house with an open door?”

“I know them,” said Rob, and he explained briefly how he’d met the older couple on his way to look for Jessica.

“Should we go in?” said Aly.

“There’s nothing we can do for them,” said Jessica.

“What do you think, Jim?” said Rob.

Jim thought for a moment, and then said, “You’re the one who met them, Rob. It’s got to be your call.”

It was a big deal for Rob to hear that from Jim. After all, Jim had always been the unofficial leader. And he’d continue to be. But he was passing this decision onto Rob, and it wasn’t like Rob was just deciding on what kind of dessert they were going to have after dinner. This could be a life-and-death matter.

There wasn’t really any practical reason to enter the house. The way Rob saw it, either Danny and Lonnie were OK or they weren’t. They’d either be dead or alive. Of course, there was a slim chance that if they’d been attacked, they’d be alive, but just barely hanging on. Of course, that would be the worst-case scenario, since it wasn’t like Rob could offer them to come live with him and his friends. They weren’t going to be able to take on stragglers.

“I’m going in,” said Rob. “The rest of you stay in the RV.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Rob,” said Jessica. “We don’t know who’s in there, or what happened.”

“If they were attacked, the attackers are probably gone now,” said Rob. “Why else would they leave the door open?”

“Maybe to invite others in. You know, to trap them.”

Rob scoffed. “I doubt it,” he said. “But anyway, if you’re right, then I’d better take the risk myself. Our group has one thing to gain from this. It’s kind of selfish of me, in a way.”

“It’s not selfish. You’re trying to help them.”

“There might be no one left to help.”

“What do you think, Jim?” said Jessica. “Should we let him go in alone?”

Jim shook his head. “I’m going with you, Rob,” he said. “I’ll back you up.”

They wordlessly got ready.

“Be careful,” said Aly, as they stepped down out of the RV.

Neither Rob nor Jim spoke as they approached the house.

“I’ll go in first,” said Rob, his gun in his hand, his finger on the trigger.

Jim nodded.

Rob crossed the threshold. It was dark inside, but there was enough light coming in through the door that Rob could see even with his eyes not yet totally adjusted.

He could hear Jim’s footsteps behind him as he walked through the house, into the room where he’d sat so recently with Danny and Lonnie.

Danny and Lonnie were there. But they were dead. Their bodies lay on the floor. Their throats had been slit, and blood was in their mouths and on the floor, pooling out around their bodies.

Rob and Jim just stood there in silence, looking at the bodies. There were no sounds in the house, and Rob seriously doubted anyone else was there. For one thing, everything that looked remotely valuable had been taken. The room in which the bodies lay had been stripped of almost everything, including pieces of furniture, which seemed strange, since furniture was most definitely not essential to survival.

Rob should have expected that something like this would happen to them. Their imaginary shotgun hadn’t been enough to protect them, and they were easy targets.

“People are cruel,” said Rob. “They didn’t have to kill them.”

“We’ve got to get used to it,” said Jim. “That’s the world we live in now.”

“They seemed like good people,” said Rob.

Jim nodded.

After a quick check of the rest of the house, in case there was anything they might be able to use, they left the house and climbed back in the RV.

Jim wordlessly started the RV and began driving. Aly and Jessica could tell, without anything being said to them, what had happened.

So they drove in silence, heading down the tree-lined road on a gray upstate New York day. They were headed into the complete unknown, and they all knew it. More than ever before, they all knew that there was certain danger that awaited them down the road. They knew that for the rest of their lives, there’d be no chance of living in peace and tranquility.

A completely new life awaited them, one in which they’d have to fight not just to feed and clothe themselves, but to keep themselves from being killed by those who were stronger and more vicious than themselves.

The odds weren’t in their favor. There was every chance in the world that they’d never live out their full lifespan, but instead meet some untimely end. But wasn’t that how humans had existed before the advent of modern society? For thousands and thousands of years, that’d been the human existence, never knowing which day would be your last.

Rob knew that they had the stuff to survive. It was deep in their bones. It was an attitude, something ancestral and ingrained in their brains. Humans weren’t meant, after all, to shop for their food in supermarkets and play social games of niceties. They were meant to hunt for their food and know how to defend themselves.

It was a return to the old way of life. They were losing security and safety, but they were gaining something. Something hard to describe. Something that might be called freedom.

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Note from the author

At this date, this is the ninth post-apocalyptic novel that I’ve written. For a long time, I’ve thought about the fragility of the various aspects and institutions of modern society. I’ve thought about what could happen, where the weak spots are, and how I and others would respond to social breakdown.

When I started writing fiction, I was excited about exploring in stories the situations I’d played out in my head for so long. I was eager to share the ideas with others, and to get feedback in a way that wasn’t available to me before.

To my surprise, I’ve found that writing about post-apocalyptic scenarios has changed the way I think about them in unexpected ways. If there’s one thing I know about writing stories, it’s that it’s the characters, their emotions, and the suspense that comes from them, that makes the stories interesting to read. Descriptions of gear and survival techniques are certainly important, if not crucial, to stories such as these, but they are not the heart and soul of the book.

So in that sense, I’ve found myself concentrating more on the interactions between the characters, trying to imagine how they would really feel, and the thoughts that would go through their heads as they encounter these incredibly difficult life-and-death situations.

It was in concentrating more on the characters, what they feel, and their interactions with one another, that my thinking about these events slowly began to change.

There are plenty of things to fear in a situation like an EMP. Loss of power. Loss of services that we’re used to, like the transportation and availability of food products. But I believe that the most frightening thing, and the most serious threat, is that you will no longer be able to trust other people. In such a situation, your neighbors may turn on you, and strangers will be a serious threat.

Some people have responded to the idea of social breakdown by forming self-sufficient rural communities, where the members either currently live, or would retreat to should there be some catastrophic threat. There are advantages to this way of thinking: In most situations, communities would be more resilient than individuals.

The advantage of a community may not be obvious. First, there is the social advantage. Humans are usually happier in groups than on their own. In a post-apocalyptic scenario, happiness may not be achievable, but mental well-being shouldn’t be ignored either. When people (and even animals) feel better in general, they are more likely to make the correct decisions, and are even more likely to survive difficult circumstances and extreme situations. They are less likely to give up when things get tough, as proven by the very interesting research done on “learned helplessness.” There are also more tangible benefits, like the division of labor, and the advantage of having people with different skill sets. As people often say, the days where a man could be the master of all knowledge are long gone. Nowadays, there is simply too much to know, and each of us is unlikely to be an expert in auto repair, food foraging, firearms, bushcrafting skills, etc. Even different climates can require vastly different fields of survival knowledge, as the flora and fauna differ greatly across the regions. A group will have more total knowledge than an individual.

However, the solution of a community as a physical location, is not available to everyone, for a variety of reasons. Of course, there are other ways to go about this. Simply developing a stronger rapport with neighbors, for instance, could lead to unpredictable beneficial outcomes. Really knowing who they are will let you know whether they’d be an ally or an enemy, whether they can be relied upon (based on their strength of character) in hard times, and what sort of skills and supplies they have access to.

Developing working relationships with all sorts of people could be immensely beneficial. For instance, if there is a farmer nearby, or a neighbor with chickens in their backyard, you might offer to do some chores for them, in exchange for learning a new skill. You’ll come away not just with useful knowledge, but a new social contact, someone who you might be able to trade with or team up with in the future.

Such informal social arrangements might prove to be invaluable. After all, if there were an event like an EMP, none of the current social-connector tools we rely on would exist.

Of course, while developing strong social bonds is important, everyone should do everything they can to develop new skills and knowledge. Everyone should have a plan, and everyone should feel that they themselves as an individual know how to act in a variety of worst-case scenarios. After all, communities are only as strong as the individuals that make them up. And what’s more, communities are not always an option.

The point of this authorial interlude is not to suggest that the formation of a type of community trumps any other method of preparation. In fact, there are certainly countless individuals who would be fine on their own. I am merely trying to point to a place that I know was a weak spot in my own thinking, and perhaps in others’ as well. When it comes to being prepared, it’s always about trying to identify your own weakness and ways you can improve your strategy.

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 ryanwestfieldauthor@gmail.com

Copyright

Copyright © 2018 by Ryan Westfield

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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.

Content

Ryan Westfield
FINAL PANIC
A POST-APOCALYPTIC EMP SURVIVAL THRILLER

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Note from the author

About Ryan Westfield

Copyright