Grid Down: A Strike against America – An EMP Survival Story- Book One (10 page)

***

It was nightfall by the time they made it back to camp, in a totally battered Ford pickup with a single flickering headlight. Rob slowed the truck to a halt near Elliot and Reba’s cabin. There was no one around. The cabin windows were covered, as was their protocol at night. Rob wasn’t sure what time it was, but he knew it was late. Their search for winter supplies along the way had been a bust.

As they pulled up, no one spoke. The near brush with death left them subdued and quiet. Mila had done what she could with Peter’s hand and wrapped it in gauze to control the bleeding. He had passed out some time before reaching Bear Mountain. They had made it back with a half tank remaining and a truck that looked as though it had gone through hell. 

Carlos and Brad stumbled out of the back. They stretched, not saying a word, as Rob switched off the ignition. Mila looked at their own cabin—its windows covered—and held back tears. She felt afraid of everything—too overwhelmed to even get out of the truck. She wasn’t prepared to tell the kids anything, but she
was
grateful to be back.

Rob turned to her, his face as worn and tired looking as hers. “We’re going to be OK.” His eyes stayed on hers. She only nodded in response.

              Rob put his arm around her shoulder. “We had no idea things had gotten so bad. Now we know, and we can be better prepared.”

              “That wasn’t our town,” she said in a shaky voice. “I don’t know what the hell that was, but it wasn’t Nyack.”

              “The EMP …” Rob began.

              “Screw the EMP,” she said. “This is the apocalypse. How could things possibly get so bad? Why isn’t anyone helping us? Where is everyone?”

              “We have to help ourselves. That’s what I’ve been saying since day one. Back there … that was anarchy. Without phones or electricity or working vehicles, we’re nothing but rats in a maze right now. And people
will
take advantage of the situation.”

              “What are we going to tell Josh and Kelly?” she asked as a tear streamed down her cheek. “They need to go back to school. Back to their lives.” She buried her face in her hands and sobbed. “We’ve failed them.”

              “That is not true,” Rob said. “As a family, we’re doing all right, which wouldn’t be the case had we stayed in Nyack.”

              Carlos came to Rob’s side and knocked on the window. “You gonna sit in there all night? Come on.”

              Peter lay slumped in the middle, propped against the seat. Shattered glass from the front and back windows covered the floor of the truck. Mila pushed open the passenger door with her foot and stepped out. Rob opened his door and saw Carlos and Brad leaning against the hood, holding their sides in pain.

              “How are you guys holding up?” he asked.

              Carlos shook his head. “A little banged up, but just glad you got us out of there.”

              Brad winced in pain. “I think I bruised a rib. Might even be broken.”

              Carlos scoffed. “If it was broken, amigo, you’d know it. Trust me.”

Mila was guiding Peter out of the truck as Rob, Carlos and Brad took a few minutes to talk. Nyack wasn’t safe, they agreed. The town had fallen. 

              At the camp, people had been waiting for them, keeping watch, and anxious for news.  They began coming out of their cabins one by one.

              Krystal, Peter’s wife, walked out first. Mayra called out for Carlos and rushed toward him with the children, Antonio and Gabrielle, following. Brad’s wife, Ashlee, came out next, squinting into the darkness. Josh and Kelly walked past her holding ChemLights, eagerly looking for their parents.

              “Carlos!” Mayra said. She dashed over and threw her arms around him. “I’m so relieved. It seemed like days. We were worried.”

              “We’re fine. Everything is fine,” Carlos said, stroking her head.

              Brad and Ashlee hugged each other, rocking back and forth in each other’s arms, not saying a word.

              “Where are the kids? Are they OK?” Brad asked, trying to hide his pain.

              “They’re in bed. Don’t worry.” Ashlee took a step back, examining him. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

              “No, no,” Brad said, waving her off. “Just got a little thrown around back there.”

              “Well, you come inside this instant,” Ashlee said and pulled him off toward their cabin.

              Krystal approached the group in her nightgown, dazed. One look at Peter hanging onto Mila with his hand bandaged sent her into hysterics.   

              “Peter! What happened to him? Oh my God!”

              His head rose as consciousness began coming back. Mila dragged herself toward Krystal with Peter leaning on her shoulder, both of them exhausted.

              “He cut his hand, but he’s going to be OK.”

              Rob walked around the truck to meet up with Mila just as Josh and Kelly found them. They looked as concerned as everyone else, and ran to Rob and hugged him. Kelly choked back tears.

              “I’m OK. I’m OK…” Rob said, rubbing their backs.

              “Did you see our house?” Kelly asked.

              “Is the power back on yet?” Josh added.

              “In time. Let us get situated first,” Rob said. His voice was hoarse and shaky.

They ran from him to Mila, who had just guided Peter into Krystal’s arms as she scolded him.

“What did you do out there, trying to give me a heart attack?” she asked, leading him to the cabin.

“I need to treat his hand tonight,” Mila called as their cabin door shut.  

Josh and Kelly threw their arms around her and squeezed tightly, nearly knocking her over. She pulled them close, sobbing and assuring them that everything was fine.

              Elliot then stepped out, having just woken up. He walked toward them in boxers, a white T-shirt, and slippers, scratching his head. One look at the dangling headlight and shattered windshield nearly sent him over the edge.

              “What in God’s name happened to my truck?” he cried, running.

              Rob grabbed his arm, stopping him. “Not now, OK? I’ll explain everything in a minute. But we have a job to do. We got the medical supplies, and my wife is going to treat Reba. The run nearly cost us our lives.”

              Elliot looked on, confounded. “That bad? H-how? No police? No military?”

              “Nothing,” Rob said. “Just us now.”

              Later that night, Rob and Mila lay in bed, still shaken from the experience. Their bodies ached, but the soft mattress was a welcome change from being thrown around in the truck. Mila rested her head on his chest, sighing. It had been a long night for her.

She had done her best picking bits of glass from Peter’s hand and cleaning his wound. Then she turned her attention to Elliot’s wife, Reba, administering medication to her and checking her vital signs. She believed that Reba would make it. Only time would tell.

              “I know that it’s for real now,” Mila said, breathing into Rob’s chest. “We never got the winter supplies, but I don’t know if I can go back out there.”

              His hand massaged her back as his eyelids grew heavier. “We’ll figure something out. Don’t worry,” he said.

              She lifted her head and kissed him. “I love you.”

              “I love you too,” he said, drifting off.

              “Rob?”

              He awoke. “Yes?”

              “Do you think we can survive this?”

              “I do,” Rob said. “Things are bad now, but we’ll find our way soon.”

              “Thank you,” she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Good night.”

***

Sunday, November 20, 2016

              It was morning and business as usual at the camp. The kids were doing their chores, Elliot was pulling guard, and Mila was tending to Reba—trying to nurse her back to health. No one had gotten very much sleep. Rob had called for a quick meeting to fill everyone in about what they had seen and done in Nyack.

              Brad and Ashlee sat among the Santos family and the Dunnes. Peter cradled his bandaged hand, recently dressed and cleaned by Mila. He was doing better but traumatized by the thought of ever going into town again. Carlos looked a little banged up, with a bruise or two on his forehead. The stoic, concerned faces let Rob know that the group had reached a threshold, and that their next moves would determine their fate in the camp.

              Before addressing them, he tried to put on his best face. He wanted to assure them that there was still hope, despite their once-idyllic town having gone to hell. The chilly morning breeze was a stark reminder of the coming winter, which only added to the question of how long they could continue to hunker down.

              “I called this meeting because I think it’s important to assess where we’re at. I’m sure you’ve all explained to your families the dismal condition of our town, and it’s true, what we saw yesterday was very concerning.”

              “Who are these people?” Krystal cried out. She took Peter’s bandaged hand in hers. “The men who shot at my husband. I want to know.”

              “I’m not sure, but I do have some idea,” Rob answered.

              “Enlighten us, please,” Carlos said. Murmurs of agreement traveled through the group.

              Rob continued. “The ability of law enforcement to do their jobs has been greatly diminished following the EMP. The same thing with the military. According to the last emergency broadcast, this situation is not exclusive to Nyack. Many areas have been besieged by criminal elements—gangs, hoodlums, you name it. It’s my guess that these groups have taken over Nyack and implemented their own mob rule. And I’m also willing to assume that the people we saw stacking bricks and doing yard labor like prisoners are the residents. Those who stayed behind.”

              “Can’t they fight back?” Ashlee asked. The group nodded and voiced agreement while awaiting Rob’s answer.

              “Not if they lack the means,” Rob said. He paced the stage. “Think about it. The power has been out for two months. Resources are low. People are desperate. All it takes is one bad element to come in and take over. We’re witnessing a complete breakdown.”

              Carlos stood up. “So let’s go into town and take care of those bastards. Our friends and neighbors are counting on us.” Mayra touched his arm, urging him to sit back down.

              “Hear, hear!” Brad said, himself feeling inspired to do something. People began clamoring for action, and the meeting was getting out of control.

              “Listen!” Rob said, quieting the group. “It’s not that easy. We’re preppers, right? And what is our main goal as preppers? It’s to ensure the safety and survival of
our
loved ones. We can’t do that by trying to be heroes. Many of us have friends and family out there, and we’re without any idea of their status.

“It’s scary and frightening, and I know it’s driving us all crazy, but we have to stick to the plan. Until the power grid is returned and law and order established, we need to remain here, only leaving for supply runs. The real issue now is not the fate of Nyack, but the fate of our families, and how we’re going to survive the winter.”

              The group was silent. Rob’s blunt assessment had resonated with them—or so it seemed. They all had their own concept of what hunkering down meant, but this was no weekend drill. They had been living in the mountains for over two months with no end in sight. The situation in Nyack was frightening. They truly were on their own.

***

Later that day, Josh and Antonio gathered their supplies for a day of fishing—the one activity that kept them sane. Cooped up in a cabin with their parents and a sister wore on Josh, and most of their days, outside of homeschool, were spent outdoors.

At fifteen, Antonio was two years older, but Josh got along with him just fine. They both liked video games and rock music. Antonio even played guitar. They did what they could to keep their minds occupied while trying to pitch in at the camp. At the end of the day, though, they were teenagers.

              “I can’t believe that there’s no girls out here,” Antonio said as they hiked down the mountain trail toward the river. “I mean, why can’t a Swedish bikini team get stuck out here with us or something?”

              Josh nodded. “Yeah.”

              “That’s the worst thing about all of this, you know?”

              The Dunne kids—Jeremiah, Mark, Luke, and Allison—were in their early teens too, but mainly kept to themselves. Allison barely said a word. She was fourteen and pretty, but extremely hard to talk to. Her brothers always surrounded her like bodyguards. Josh had pretty much given up.

              Antonio continued. “I’m dying out here, bro.”

              “I hear ya,” Josh said, ducking under a tree branch with his fishing pole in hand.

              Antonio waved him off. “Ah, you wouldn’t know what to do with a girl if you had one.”

              “That’s not true,” Josh protested.

              Antonio halted and looked at Josh with a raised brow and a disbelieving expression. Josh had no choice but to stop as well. “Oh yeah?” said Antonio. “When was the last time you kissed a girl, huh?”

              Antonio crossed his arms and waited as Josh thought about it, trying to conceal his panic. “Well,” he answered, turned away, “I haven’t done
that
yet, but I’m getting real close.”

              Antonio bellowed. He slapped Josh on the back and couldn’t stop laughing, near tears now. “Oh, man. You are
too
funny.” He grabbed his sides while catching his breath. Josh looked down, not saying anything.              

              “Relax, Don Juan. I’m only messing with you,” Antonio said with a smile.

              Josh looked up and shot him a skeptical look. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up.” He couldn’t help but smile too. He glanced over Antonio’s shoulder and froze as he saw something in the distance.

              Antonio continued his exaggerated laughing, but when he got no reaction, he looked up and saw the dread on Josh’s face. Concerned, his smile disappeared.

              “What is it, dude?”

              “Someone’s out there,” Josh said.

              Antonio spun around to look. Beyond the trees, a man was stealthily moving toward them. Antonio dropped his fishing pole and bucket and pulled out his pocket knife.

              “Who’s there?” he shouted.

              Josh felt his stomach tighten into knots. Had they been found out? Had others discovered them? Rob had always told him to not make too much noise during his fishing trips and not bring attention to himself. Was it too late to heed the warning?

              “I’m not messing around, man,” Antonio called, holding his knife in the air. “Try me.”

              A rustle came from the bushes as a man with a long gray beard and a rough, wrinkly face emerged. It was Grady, the hermit who had taken to bothering their camp as of late. He wobbled forward in his green jacket and torn, baggy jeans, appearing addled and drunk as usual. They had crossed paths with the old man a few weeks ago, when Grady had given them slurred and rambling warnings about coming dangers. This time seemed no different.

              Josh felt relieved. Antonio kept his knife in view. Grady stopped when he was about five feet in front of them, leaned against a tree and let out a loud belch.

              “What did I tell you last time, old man? Leave us alone!” Antonio said.  

              Grady raised his shaky arm and pointed at them. His eyes were wild and glazed over. “Buncha no-good punks … that’s all you are. Trespassing on my property…” His head stooped then went back up again. “How many times I gotta tell you to stay off my property?” he slurred.

              “This isn’t
your
property,” Antonio said. “How many times do we have to tell you that? Get it through that thick, crusty head of yours.”

              Grady’s face reddened. He looked confused, angry, and delirious all at once. His hanging arm began to shake violently, as if in a spasm. “You—you can’t talk to me … not like that. I want you off my property.” He tried to step forward but clung to the tree to keep his balance. “I want you off now!” he shouted.

              Angered, Antonio took a couple of steps toward Grady, brandishing his knife. “Yell at me again, old man. See what happens.”

Josh leapt forward and grabbed Antonio’s shoulder, causing him to turn around. “It’s not worth it, man. We both know he’s crazy. Come on.”

Antonio calmed down and let out a big breath, almost as if he were relieved that Josh had intervened. He lowered his knife and stepped back. Grady clung to the tree, his wrinkled face filled with pure spite.

“News flash. You can’t own a mountain,” Antonio said, shaking his head in disgust.

“I can own anything I want!” Grady rambled. His hands went into his jacket, feeling for something. Antonio pulled his knife out again. Grady pulled out a flask, put it against his dry lips, and took a long drink that ended in a coughing fit. An air of relief came over the two boys. They weren’t sure what Grady was up to. Antonio slowly folded his knife and put it back in his pocket but kept his eyes locked on Grady.

“Let’s go already,” Josh said. “Enough of this guy.”

Antonio hesitated, but after a moment gave in. “All right,” he said, and knelt down to retrieve his fishing pole and bucket. He rose just as the old man was getting started again.

“You wanna know something else?” Grady bellowed. A light whooshing sound followed through the air. His face went blank with shock, and his body tumbled, falling flat onto the pebbles and leaves.

Josh and Antonio looked at each other, curious. Grady had simply slumped over without a word. They thought maybe he had passed out, but something wasn’t right. His legs and arms twitched, and then they noticed a long arrow sticking out from the back of his head.

“What the hell?” Antonio said.

Josh looked beyond Grady and saw several men dressed in camouflage jackets about twenty yards away, huddled in a pack. One of them was holding a bow.

“Nice head shot!” a lanky man with a handlebar mustache said. He gave a thumbs-up to the bearded man with the bow. 

“Oh my God,” Josh said quietly. His feet felt frozen to the ground. Antonio was still transfixed by the arrow in Grady’s skull when Josh tapped him on the shoulder. He then looked up, noticing the men.

“Back to the cabin,” Josh said in a deadly serious whisper.

The men looked back—five of them in all—and noticed Josh and Antonio, it seemed for the first time, because they looked as panicked as Josh and Antonio did.

Josh dropped his fishing pole. “Run!”

The men sprinted forward, chasing them. Antonio went for his knife when Josh yanked him away. “Move!”

He got the message and bolted along with Josh, back up the trail toward camp. They could hear bushes rustling as the men raced after them. Another arrow whizzed right by Josh’s head and hit a nearby tree. He screamed out and pushed his legs as fast as they could go.

“Don’t let ’em get away!” a man shouted.

Antonio trailed slightly behind, gasping for air. Their legs felt like jelly as they ascended a steep hill. No matter how hard they pushed, gravity weighed them down. At his most frantic point, when he thought they were dead, Josh could hear the men’s voices fading. They were losing them.

“Come on!” he cried out to Antonio. “Keep moving.” They made it to the top of the rise and kept going with adrenaline racing through their blood.