Fight Like a Man: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (The SHTF Series Book 1) Page 2

  He re-focused on the iPad. Still no connection to the internet. He clicked to try to re-connect and patiently watched it cycle through three more retries and countdowns.

  Not working. No internet service either?

  The letters: E M P screamed through his head again.

  The keys to his truck were on the table. He snatched them up and hurried—as much as he could while limping—through the eerily silent, dark house to the driveway, with Ozzie following behind him.

  Could this really be happening? He’d prepared for it for years, but when one after another crisis passed with not much more than a wrinkle, he’d almost began to believe—just like the sheeple—that no end of the world event would ever happen in his lifetime after all. This past year he’d been lackadaisical in his prepping. Had he even rotated the expired canned goods this year? Had he reminded Jake to treat the fuel tank lately?

  A sweat broke out on his forehead. He slid barefoot into the driver’s side of his truck with his heart pounding. If someone had asked him a year ago if he was ‘prepared’ for an EMP, he would have said yes. But that was a year ago. Now? He wasn’t so sure.

  He inserted the key and turned it, holding it there much longer than necessary.

  “If this is it, it’s gonna leave a mark,” he mumbled.

  2

  Grayson

  The truck started!

  He slammed his hand against the steering wheel.

  Damn, I must be losing my mind… panicking over a power outage?

  He laughed at himself, realizing he was more affected by his wife not being home than he thought he had been. Jumpy. Paranoid. He wasn’t even going to mention this to her when she returned.

  But still…

  No power in the house.

  No cell phone service.

  No internet services.

  It really could have finally happened. Maybe it wasn’t an EMP, but the news had been filled with reports of smaller cyber-attacks. Accusations had been thrown far and wide, including against Russia whose president denied the accusations, but was getting seriously pissed about it. The Russian president was a proud and scary man, and the memes and funny jokes posted all around the world of his ‘relations’ with America’s new president had to be rankling his skin.

  In fact, Grayson had seen a special report just yesterday that warned Russia’s good diplomacy toward the new president—which Russia had been accused of helping into office by hacking into our systems and swiping strategic bits to share with WikiLeaks in order to shape United States politics—was flipping. If Russia had indeed helped the new president win the election, the president wasn’t returning the favors. Within his first six months in office, he’d not only given the Russian president the cold shoulder, but he’d also slapped them with several new sanctions, bombed one of their allies and given no quarter toward the Russian president or his country, as far as anyone could see.

  If they had been in bed together, the honeymoon was definitely over between Russia and America’s president.

  Another channel had been reporting sporadic power outages country-wide due to system hacks, as well as breaches to national security information files. This particular news channel implied the Chinese were the culprits, warning that while China hadn’t yet launched an attack, exactly, but that they were engaged in “passive intelligence-collection activity”—otherwise known as cyberespionage.

  After two years of hearing both sides of the political parties whine and cry about unsecured emails, system hacking, and cyber-stuff, he’d mostly tuned it out as just noise. Like probably millions of other Americans, he’d flipped the channel after only a few moments, looking for something more entertaining.

  The more he thought about it, the more he realized he’d been seeing and hearing a lot of threats to the electrical grid and entire infrastructure of the United States. But he hadn’t really paid attention. As soon as the talking heads started talking, he’d flip to Alaskan survival shows or start another Netflix binge.

  When had Americans become so desensitized that they ignored news reports like that? Maybe that was the plan? Bombard television and social media with possibilities, threats, what-ifs and maybe’s so that we stopped listening and our guard went down and they could really catch us all with our pants down. What better way to cripple a country? Fight an invisible war with no boots on the ground? Let the country implode around itself without firing the first bullet or nuclear weapon? It could be done with little to no loss of life and/or money to the attacker.

  So what if it had finally happened?

  It wasn’t like he hadn’t warned his friends and family that something could happen so many times that he’d felt like Chicken Little. Or The Little Boy Who Cried Wolf.

  Bloody hell.

  Maybe this really was it. He had a gut feeling it was something.

  Something more than just a typical power outage.

  Blood coursed faster through his veins, fueled by a sudden shot of adrenaline. His heart slammed against his chest, scaring him more than a little. All the beer, chili and junk food lately—not to mention the bacon he ate four or five times a week for breakfast—made him a prime candidate for a heart attack. He clutched his chest in panic.

  If he was right, and this was the fabled teotwawki, it was going to be bad. He was a prepper; so he was more prepared than the average Joe. But no damn good it did him when his family wasn’t here. He’d never seriously considered that possibility.

  Ozzie whined outside the truck, unsure if they were going somewhere, and not wanting to miss out on a ride. Grayson dropped his head to the steering wheel and took in several deep breaths. No use getting worked up if this was it. He knew what to do. They all did. Everyone had a job to do and they had a somewhat solid plan. His was to get the house ready. Theirs was to just get home.

  Olivia and her sisters were at the beach, his daughter at university in Columbia, and Jake and Dusty hopefully were just in town; at least they were local.

  He wondered if his little brother, Dusty—who was married to Olivia’s little sister, Emma—would come immediately to the homestead, or if Dusty would be wrapped up in police stuff.

  Grayson breathed in relief when he realized Rickey, Dusty’s stepson, was with him. Emma would have his hide if he didn’t bring the kid directly here if this was the real deal. Yeah… he’ll come here first; police business next—if ever.

  With no way to communicate with his family, he hoped they’d all figure it out if this wasn’t a typical power outage. If they waited too long to leave and head home, there was no telling what they’d run into. Especially the women. And his little girl.

  A chill ran down his spine.

  He slowly shook his head from side to side.

  If this was it, his long-awaited plan had failed on the first day.

  3

  The Ladies – Two days later

  “Shit… meet fan,” Gabby announced as she hovered over her twin sister, Olivia, casting a long shadow.

  “Shit meet sand, don’t you mean?” Emma said and laughed.

  While Gabby tried not to stare, it was hard not to see several people squatting out on the dunes. Men. Women. Children. No one was exempt from bodily functions, and after days of being stuck in their rooms, many had realized house-keeping wasn’t coming back. If they wanted to continue to sleep in their hotel rooms, they’d have to use the bathroom outside. All the public restrooms in the hotel were beyond ‘out of service,’ too.

  Mothers had confiscated their children’s sand shovels to dig cat-holes, while the kids stood wiggling in place uncomfortably, tear-stained faces shining. Make-shift screens were thrown up with daddies holding beach towels or umbrellas and then taken right down. Everything was valuable now. Couldn’t afford to leave it up to help others who may not have a towel or umbrella. It was every man for himself and this was the hardest part—so far—for the children, especially the young ones who not that long ago were trained to only potty in a private toilet. Teenagers were
even more hesitant. They’d rather plan their own funeral than poo in public. It was hard on everyone.

  Several small groups of people were clustered around pots or large bowls covered in saran wrap. Inside the pot or bowl would be another smaller bowl, in which to catch the excruciatingly slow dripping condensation from the salt water they were trying to desalinate to drink. Right now, it was mostly all fun and games and wannabe survivalists tried to show off their skills.

  Soon, it would become deadly serious.

  Gabby exchanged rueful glance with Emma. Neither one of them wanted to get involved with strangers but someone should tell them it would take all day to fill a small container up like that, and it wasn’t enough for even one person to survive on. They were only making things worse for themselves sitting in the hot sun and sweating. They needed more containers. Lots more, and set out in a safe and sunny place that wouldn’t require people standing over to watch in the hot sun.

  Like maybe on their balconies?

  Duh.

  And then there was their sister, Olivia, doing her own bit of avoidance. In the resort, they were sheltered from the madness and chaos running rampant in the already-crazy tourist town of Myrtle Beach. But several people had left the resort and reported back that things were nucking futs out there; looting, fighting, and worse was going on outside the resort gates. Emma and Gabby had wandered out themselves and hurriedly returned. After what they saw, there was no doubt it was time to get out of Dodge, before things got worse. They certainly weren’t going to get any better.

  Gabby crossed her arms, fuming that Olivia was just sitting there on the beach, paperback in her lap, enjoying the sights and sounds of the ocean, while she and Emma had worn themselves out walking in the hot sun. They had hoped to find at least one gas station nearby that still had gas and a generator to pump it. Or water. They’d found nothing. Gabby had wanted to venture out further, but neither of them had wanted to leave Olivia behind in her little bubble of denial for too long.

  Olivia gave her identical twin sister a bored look. “What now, Gabby? Fire and brimstone raining down from the sky?” She looked from Gabby to their little sister, Emma, and took a long sip of water.

  Great. Now we’re down to three bottles, Gabby thought. They were the lucky ones. They’d brought along a case of water to keep in their room for the trip. But their supply was quickly dwindling down.

  Emma smiled at Olivia patiently.

  They all knew it was time to leave. Olivia was just being stubborn, refusing to believe this could possibly be the event that her own husband has been preparing for; that they’d all helped to prepare for. Apparently, she had thought it had all been for fun and games for them to learn to shoot, and to can veggies and the other dozens of survival skills that her own husband, Grayson, had insisted they try. A fun hobby. Something to do to bring them together as a family. She probably never thought this would really happen.

  Gabby swung her long, brown hair over her shoulder and put her hands on her hips. She looked to her little sister, Emma, who stood beside her for support. Emma was their little mini, except she was eight years younger—in her mid-twenties—and four inches shorter. She shared the same slender build, long dark hair and blue eyes. If it wasn’t for the height, they could pass as triplets, even with the age gap between her and the twins.

  Emma shrugged, not yet ready to choose sides between the twins.

  “Olivia, I’m serious,” Gabby said. “I think this might really be it. Remember those loud noises we heard after the power went out? Some of the other guests said it was transformers exploding. This is more than just a power outage. If you walk out of the resort and up the road, you can still see smoke. There’s buildings on fire. Things are crazy out there. They’re going to get worse. We need to get home.”

  Olivia shook her head. “It’s been two days, Gabby. Give them time to find the problem and get the power back on. Let’s wait it out, get a good night of peaceful sleep tonight and see if things are back on tomorrow. I’m not leaving our vacation. Don’t be silly. What are we going to do, walk two hundred miles home?”

  She faced the ocean again, watching the waves roll in and break against her feet. She wiggled her toes, poking the carefully manicured red tips up out of the sand, as though she didn’t have a care in the world… just another day at the beach, la-la la-la la…

  Gabby wanted to slap sense into her. They needed to get moving. Grayson had always predicted if this ever happened, it would probably be only two or three days before all hell broke loose and people lost their minds—and their humanity. Then it would be TEOTWAWKI: the end of the world as we know it. And Emma’s husband, Dusty, had agreed. He was a cop for Pete’s sake. How much more validation did Olivia need?

  “It’s not just the power. It’s the internet, too. And phone service. All communications. We’re cut off here from the world. Ever known that to happen before? So yes, that’s exactly what we’re going to have to do. Walk. Because you didn’t want to fill up with gas before checking in and now, there is no gas to be had. And that’s not all, either. Not only is it the electricity, phones, air-condition, and internet. It’s water, too. Water is the game-changer. We really have to leave now because the hotel is out of water—and food. All the water we have is what’s left in our room. And here you sit in the hot sun, drinking it. We’ve got to head home,” she insisted.

  Olivia looked at her watch. She shrugged. “I’ve heard a few cars leaving. We just need to find gas wherever they’re finding it.” She pointed out to the ocean, where the sun was beginning to drop fast, spreading its pink, orange and red coloring across the horizon. “And we’ve got more water than we need right there.”

  Gabby huffed and took in a deep breath, blowing it out in frustration.

  Emma put her hand on Gabby’s arm, letting her know she’d try. “Olivia, the people you saw leaving may have had gas when they left here, but they won’t get far before they need more, and there isn’t any. The gas stations that did still have gas were charging up to a hundred dollars a gallon cash only, and even that went fast. It’s gone now. We’re stranded—”

  Gabby interrupted. “And we can’t drink saltwater. You know that. We don’t have any idea how to do it. It’s not just boiling water, ya know? There’s salt to get out of the water, too. We could use the condensation trick, but that’d take forever to get just a tiny bit to drink.”

  She waved her arms slowly to indicate the beach. “There’s just not enough resources here. There’s too many people. We have to go somewhere else. Emma and I just came from the resort snack bar and restaurant. We stood for over an hour waiting to get in and just before our turn, they hung up a closed sign. They’re out. No more food either. We’re going to have to walk farther to find some. All we have is what’s in our room—our unbearably hot, stinky room. The maids aren’t coming. No more water is coming. No more food. No magic genie who can turn saltwater into drinking water or gas. If we’ve got to go find food and water for ourselves anyway, we may as well do that on the way home.”

  Gabby stopped long enough to take a breath, but Emma held up her hand to take a turn, “Olivia, she’s right. We’ve got to leave now. Things are getting worse. You can’t change it by denial. Your own husband has been telling you this could happen. Grayson would be so disappointed in you for stalling.” She pursed her lips and slowly shook her head at Olivia. “And what about Graysie stuck an hour from home at college? I’ll bet she’s not just sitting there with her head—or feet—in the sand thinking someone is going to turn the power back on. She’s probably on the way home, too.”

  Olivia abruptly stood up, the back of her legs knocking her chair over in the sand. “Fine! But how the heck are we—three women—going to walk all the way home? Two hundred miles. Have you two lost your minds? We aren’t nineteen years old like Graysie, and this isn’t just a lap around the mall or a hot yoga class.” She waved her hands around. “This is…it’s… insane. We’re talking hot asphalt and pavement, dusty
roads, and woods. Lots of woods. Do you seriously think we can make it all the way there on foot?” Olivia’s voice wavered on the last sentence and her chin trembled.

  Seems she was a little more bothered than she’d been letting on after all.

  Emma nodded emphatically while Gabby smiled and hugged her twin sister, knowing she was coming around—finally.

  “We can find a way,” Gabby insisted. “The only other option is to stay here, and you know the guys are probably worrying themselves to death about us. I’m sure Rickey is safe with Dusty, but I’ll bet he’s worried about his mama.” She gave Emma a sympathetic look. “Let’s pull up our big girl panties and show them we were listening for the past two years. I’ve got my bug-out bag in the room, and both of yours are in the car. We’ve got guns. I think we can do it.”

  Olivia grimaced. “Yeah, I need to talk to you about those bags.”

  Before Gabby or Emma could respond, they were knocked over by a man running between them awkwardly swinging a heavy ice chest. As the girls tumbled to the sand in a heap and another man…and another…ran through them, giving chase.

  “Hey! Watch it,” Gabby yelled after them. “There’s women and children—”

  Bang Bang Bang

  Shots fired out and the beach erupted in screams and a scurry of people grabbing children and running away toward the beach access ramp, sprinting toward safety in a panic. In seconds the once spread-out crowd who’d only dotted the sand every fifty to hundred feet were now running toe to heel, clustered together and bottlenecking at the access ramp to the resort. Some were jumping the fence over the dunes, others shoving to get through the gate onto the boardwalk. People kicked and screamed. Women and children were crying.

  Total chaos in seconds.

  Another Pop Pop Pop and the crowd roared and surged, doubling their efforts to get away.