After the Fall: A Post Apocalyptic EMP Thriller (Surviving the EMP Book 2) Read online

  “Stafford?” Candice said. “Lucky for you, we’re just down the road from there. Should be able to get you home in time for lunch tomorrow.”

  “Will there be lunch?” Emma asked.

  Mitch opened his mouth like he was going to intervene. But Candice put a hand on his knee. Tightened it.

  “I hope so, Emma,” she said. “I hope so.”

  Emma looked at her in the flickering light of the flames, and she swore she saw sadness in her eyes. Mitch had told Calvin how to start the fire. Jean insisted she had a lighter, but Mitch said there were going to be times they didn’t have lighters, so they had to learn how to adapt for those times. He said there were a few ways—something about flint and steel, and how carrying matches was always important. There was also a way to use the old magnifying glass approach.

  But Mitch had taught Calvin how to start this fire using friction.

  He’d got a log and made a v-shaped notch in it, then rubbed a spindle between his hands quickly. It had taken a while, but eventually, the log had started to smoke, to which they’d added their leaves to it. The fire had started from there. Calvin was sweating, but it seemed like he was happy he’d achieved something.

  Emma turned to Candice. “Where are you from?”

  “Me?” Candice asked. “I’m from Glasgow.”

  “Why were you down here?”

  “I was… I was at university. But there’s… there’s not much left for me there. Not anymore.”

  Her eyes twinkled. And for a second, Emma swore she saw tears building.

  But then Candice looked up at her, and she smiled.

  “Now come on,” she said. “Rest. We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow. Cross your fingers and who knows? We might just be lucky with the power.”

  “I find that unlikely,” Mitch said.

  Candice punched him on the knee, to which he yelped.

  But as Emma lay down, totally sleepless, in front of the fire, she couldn’t shake the feeling he was right.

  She closed her eyes and thought of Logan.

  Chapter Six

  When Logan was absolutely sure he was alone, he opened his eyes.

  It was dark. Far darker than he remembered. Night had come quickly, and although he didn’t remember falling asleep, he must’ve, because there was no way it was this pitch black earlier.

  And the more he thought about it, the more he could remember things. Dreams. Dreams of walking down steps, towards basements. Only… this time he was walking out. Towards the sun. A girl in his arms.

  Emma.

  A dread swallowed him up when he thought about her. He’d lost her. She’d been stabbed, caught up in a fight that wasn’t hers.

  And then he’d rushed into action to save a woman and a kid from another lunatic.

  He shouldn’t have intervened. He should’ve kept his focus on Emma; on getting her to safety.

  But he hadn’t. And now he was here.

  But he couldn’t stay here. The people here, they’d seen to his wounds, made sure he was okay. But he’d heard the things some of them—many of them—had said. He’d seen the way they looked at him. Seen them spitting at him. And he knew they weren’t going to want him here. He wasn’t welcome—and he was never going to be welcome.

  He needed to get out of this place. For more reasons than one.

  He wasn’t safe here.

  Especially if the power came back on.

  He thought about how close he’d been to getting out of all of this. His impending appeal hearing. The incident in the showers with Spice Stu, and the knowledge that his actions were probably going to cost him his release.

  But now he’d seen how people on the outside were with him, and he knew that even if he had been released, things were never going to be easy.

  At least now, with the power out, he had a chance to get as far as he could from this place. Somewhere new. A fresh start, living in a cabin in the woods, off grid.

  And when the power did come back, at least then he’d be so far out of the way and so low on the list of things to attend to that he might just have a chance at eternal freedom after all.

  He pushed himself up and looked out of the car window.

  There was a man leaning against the passenger side.

  He froze. He didn’t know he was there, where he’d come from. He was staring down at the road, not paying much attention.

  And Logan found himself wondering whether he could sneak outside, swiftly take this man out before fleeing this place. Because he appreciated all these people had done for him. He respected them for keeping him alive.

  But he wasn’t their prisoner.

  He wasn’t going to die here.

  He had to make a break for it while he still could.

  He reached for the door on the driver’s side of the car. Pulled it open, heard it click.

  The man flinched.

  He stopped. Froze. Closed his eyes, leaned back down on the driver’s seat.

  And then he heard something.

  The man yawning.

  Stretching.

  He looked at him through the corner of his eye. Saw the way he was peering into the car.

  And then he mumbled something under his breath, slumped down the side of the car and leaned back against it.

  Within seconds, he was snoring.

  Logan opened that door, slowly. Part of him expected an alarm to sound, but he remembered there was no electricity, so no chance of that.

  He pushed the door open. Stretched it right out, so he could climb out.

  He went to step onto the road.

  And he heard something hit the concrete.

  A phone from the driver’s seat tumbling to the footwell.

  A bang that echoed through the night.

  He froze again. Went completely still. Waited for the moment of truth.

  But then he heard the snore of the man guarding the car.

  He took a deep breath and stepped out into the darkness.

  He stood there. Looked down the road, at all these stationary cars. And he wondered how the world could ever hope to clean itself up again after something like this. Even if the power came back tomorrow, too much had happened. Too many people had died. The cost of cleaning this mess up alone was going to amount to a ridiculous fee.

  And then there was the mental cost. The cost of loss. The cost of the lack of a response.

  Even if the power came back… the world was going to struggle to ever get over this.

  It was going to take a long time to recover.

  And nobody was going to forget just how easily things slipped out of control.

  Logan had to make the most of that chaos.

  He looked around the car, back at the snoring man.

  “Thanks for letting me go.”

  He turned around and walked off into the woods.

  His body ached from the stabbings. He knew he should take it easy, especially with how dehydrated and exhausted he felt.

  But he headed in the rough direction he’d come from—or at least the direction he thought he’d come from.

  Because as much as he wanted to get far away from this place… there was something keeping him here.

  He searched the woods. Walked past trees that looked the same. Grew convinced he’d walked in a big circle.

  And just when he was ready to give up, he saw it.

  The blood, glistening in the moonlight.

  The indentations where the bodies had fallen.

  The ties beside the tree.

  The scene of the altercation.

  He walked over to the trees where he knew he’d left Emma, and he felt the dread building. He knew he shouldn’t feel this way. He knew he shouldn’t care about anyone else.

  But she’d given him a chance. She’d trusted him, with all she knew.

  And for that, he wanted to know she was okay.

  He pushed past the branches when he saw something he couldn’t believe.

  Emma wasn’t there. r />
  She wasn’t dead.

  She wasn’t alive.

  She wasn’t anywhere.

  He crouched by the tree. Put his fingers in her blood.

  Then he looked over at the little trail leading alongside the one on the route he’d headed from.

  He tightened his fists.

  Stood upright.

  He wanted to get as far away from here as possible.

  But there was something else he needed to do.

  Someone else he needed to find.

  He looked back once more. Took a deep breath.

  Then, he walked.

  Chapter Seven

  Jack lay in bed, Villain by his side, and stared up into the darkness.

  He knew he should be tired after a day like today. All of the events should have taken a serious toll on him. And sleep wasn’t something he usually struggled with too much. If he were struggling, a couple of neat glasses of whisky would be enough to settle him down, distance himself from his thoughts.

  But he was wide awake. And he knew damn well sleep wasn’t coming any time soon.

  Outside, he listened to the wind rushing against his home. He’d seen Bill’s face when they got here. Seen the way he looked at his surroundings with a furrowed brow. Like, as cool as this place was, he couldn’t quite believe anyone lived here permanently.

  And Jack supposed he didn’t see it in the same way. Living in a place had a funny way of masking up its faults. He didn’t care so much about the slight leak in the makeshift bathroom ceiling. He didn’t care about the stacks of unwashed pots and pans by the sink. And he didn’t care about the tiny little RF television perched on an old ironing board, the aerial dangling above it in its optimal position.

  Jack cared that he was working towards an off-grid lifestyle. He had many of the essentials down: shelter, water—which he had acquired for different purposes, like drinking and cooking, and for growing plants with. He had food, particularly a garden area where he was growing several types of plants like asparagus, cauliflower, tomatoes, onions, things like that. And he had clothing, too, something people didn’t fully consider when it came to material and things like that. Pure cotton was the best material. Anything man-made was a no-go.

  But more important than any of that, he was away from other people.

  He lifted himself from his bed, walked over to his window. Looked outside, over towards the shed. He could see a little light shining from the shed where Bill was sleeping. He knew it was from the little torch he’d given Bill. One of the ones he’d had stuffed in a Faraday cage, something he was delighted to see had worked.

  He hadn’t had a chance to test the bulk of his equipment. He hadn’t even tested his Jeep yet. But he knew there was plenty of time for that.

  Tomorrow was the first day of a brand new world.

  He paced around his room, Villain snoring on the bed. He knew there was no point even trying to sleep, so he figured he’d head downstairs and check on a few of his other Faraday cage items. Maybe even try the Jeep now. He’d seen the light in the shed Bill was staying in, so at least he knew he wouldn’t be disturbing him in there. Unless he’d fallen asleep with the torch on. Which would be highly irritating.

  But in the end, he found himself stopping by the door. Catching a glance at the photo frame sitting on the one cabinet he had in this room.

  It was an old photograph of Wayne, his son. His first day at high school. One of the last good memories he had of him.

  He stopped by the photo. Lifted it. Studied it. He’d walked past it so many times that it had just become a part of the scenery at this point.

  But now, he found himself revisiting old memories. The things he’d taught his son. The time they’d spent together. The things he’d passed on to him.

  Wherever he was out there… he hoped he was okay.

  But there was something beyond that, too. He knew his son would be old enough to be in university now. He didn’t know whether he’d gone. Sure, he could’ve done some digging on Facebook or something like that—at least when he used to have it—but he figured he didn’t want to torture himself like that.

  Much better to just stay out of the way.

  But now there was something gnawing at him. An opposing force, the likes of which he’d never felt before.

  Or at least a force that he’d managed to repress successfully for many, many years.

  That force was screaming at him to go out there. To search for his son, wherever he may be.

  And with that came Hazel, too.

  There was still bad blood where Hazel was concerned. She wondered whether she was living with his former best friend now. Perhaps they were married, with a kid of their own.

  But he’d never stopped loving Hazel. And that was something painful he had to face up to. Something painful he had to admit.

  But then he heard Villain stretching and sighing, and he looked around.

  He put the photograph of Wayne back on the cabinet, only face down this time. He walked over to his bed, climbed back inside it. Curled up to Villain, felt his warmth against his chest.

  “We’re okay,” he whispered. “You and me. Only one I need, eh, boy?”

  Villain let out a contented sigh.

  But as Jack lay there and tried to count sheep to drift off, he couldn’t get the image of his estranged son out of his mind.

  Chapter Eight

  Wayne slept for much longer than thirty minutes.

  When he woke, it was light. He was confused at first. His head ached, and his mouth was dry. The sun beamed across the horizon. There was a clammy warmth to the air already here in these fields. His nose was runny, and his eyes were itchy, his hay fever kicking in already.

  He looked around.

  Mrs Fuzzles was on his lap. Staring right at him like she despised him. Nothing new there then.

  A panic suddenly engulfed him. Candice. He was following her. He didn’t want to rest. If he rested, he was losing time. He wasn’t going to find her. He was…

  He stood up and saw Bella standing over a little fire. Above it, a squirrel was cooking.

  “What the hell?” Wayne said.

  She looked around at him. Smiled. “Breakfast,” she said. “I—”

  “No,” Wayne said. “I don’t care about that. You said you’d let me have half an hour. Tops.”

  “And I didn’t account for the fact I might fall asleep, too.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Whatever. No point beating yourself up over it now. Get some breakfast. Then we can keep on moving.”

  Wayne glared at her, and the skinned squirrel perched above the flames. “Not a cat in hell’s chance I’m eating that.”

  “You’re going to have to get used to eating stuff like this. The longer the power is out and the longer we’re out here, the fewer packaged goods are going to be available. So come on. Try it. I’d say it tastes just like chicken, but that’d be a gross exaggeration of my cooking abilities.”

  Wayne wanted to be annoyed at Bella. But at the same time, he knew he couldn’t be too hard on her. She was bound to be tired after yesterday. She was right. None of them could be too harsh on themselves for falling asleep.

  Besides. He remembered the things his dad had once told him about how to skin animals and how important it was not to be squeamish. The fact his dad had told him was probably why he’d resisted it so much.

  He walked over to her side, reluctantly, Mrs Fuzzles following closely behind. “Where’d you learn a thing like this, anyway?”

  Bella glanced down at the improvised barbecue, and at the squirrel on a kind of spit. “Oh, this? A lot of Girl Scout camping trips when I was a kid. Hated the people there, hated the time I spent there. But hey. Looks like the things I learned there came in handy, in a way.”

  Wayne sat down beside her. Kept checking his wristwatch instinctively, forgetting the time had stopped.

  “Don’t worry,” Bella said. “You’ve just spent the night sleeping. Chances are, Candic
e did too. There’s nothing taking ten minutes for breakfast is going to do to really hold us back.”

  She scooped the squirrel from the spit and tore some of the meat away, handing Wayne some of it. He put it in his mouth, closing his eyes, expecting it to be disgusting, but it was actually kind of nice.

  “How is it?” Bella asked.

  “Not quite a fry up,” Wayne said.

  “Few things are,” she said. “But still. It fills a corner, right?”

  Wayne chewed the squirrel a little easier now he knew it didn’t taste so bad. “Yeah. I suppose it does.”

  They sat there eating for a while. It was only when he got to the end of his portion that a pain split through Wayne’s stomach, the need to shit filling him. But there was no toilet nearby. He really needed to go. He just didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of Bella—and he didn’t want to sacrifice any of his dignity, either.

  He stood up, walked around a little, pretended to be doing a few stretches when in fact he was just trying to stave off these stomach cramps. And try not to make it look obvious that he was bursting for a shit, of course.

  Mrs Fuzzles glared at him with something that looked like a smirk. Like she knew exactly what was wrong with him.

  “You know, if you need to go, you should just dig a hole in the ground and bury it.”

  Wayne glared at Bella, felt himself blushing. “Wh-what?”

  “Instead of walking around like you’ve got ants in your pants. The power’s out. Nobody’s watching. Take a shit in a hole in the ground if you have to. I think the police have bigger things to worry about.”

  Wayne turned away, shook his head. “I’ll give it a miss. But thanks.”

  Bella shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  He glanced at his watch again. He was growing agitated, his sense of urgency increasing. He paced forward, frustrated by how much time Bella was taking, how relaxed she seemed about all this.

  But at the same time, he had to admit he was kind of enjoying her company.

  He felt like his defences were slipping.

  But there was nothing to it. It was just because she was the only company he had. That’s all it was.