Defending Freedom: An EMP Survival Story (Surviving The Shock Book 2) Read online

  Chapter 1

  Thomas Criver let off the gas pedal. The USS Sardine, as Criver had dubbed their car, stopped its acceleration and now was coasting down the highway. He had lost track of how many times he had done this. Apply gas to about fifty miles per hour, then gently release the pedal and let the vehicle run without adding further gasoline. Of course, this would be a very dangerous way to actually drive, but this was no longer an ordinary world.

  For one thing, there were no cars on the road, except for those whose drivers suddenly had lost control, driven off the road and crashed. This was a backwoods state road that had little traffic at the time the world went to Hell, so hardly any cars were left on the pavement. So, Criver could coast the car with a clear field.

  Second, there were no open gas stations anywhere. Criver had to preserve every precious drop of fuel in the car tank as if it was gold. He could not simply stay on the gas all the way back to his home city. He had to pull every trick in the book to make sure they made it to Cheryl’s house.

  The needle on the gas gauge was past the halfway mark, and now entering the last quarter. That should be enough, but Criver wouldn’t take any chances. This car already had a weight problem—it was holding two grown adults and thirteen children. Hence, Criver’s name for the car, the USS Sardine.

  The fact that this car had two backseats saved their bacon. One child sat in the passenger seat, with another on his lap. Another child sat in the middle. The remaining rows were packed with children. In fact, the crowd was so large Criver could not see through the back window. So he had to rely on “scouts.” A few of the kids kept watch out the windows to alert him to anything approaching.

  And to add to the absurdity of the situation, Criver’s adult companion wasn’t even in the car, technically. She had propped open the trunk and was riding in it along with the two oldest children, all of them anchored in with a long leather belt. Criver pictured the whole scene in his mind. It was like something out of those road comedy movies he watched as a kid, yet this was even less believable.

  Their last stop had been in a small warehouse in a tiny exurb that was totally abandoned. It turned out to be a transfer point between the Coach and other warlords, but for some reason, the place was deserted.

  The Coach. Criver frowned. He could picture the tall brute, the hideous scars that ravaged his face, and the man who stole all these children, and imprisoned them within an abandoned asylum. In spite of his training for his role as a security guard, Criver never fought such a man in his life.

  He rubbed his right arm. He still was smarting from the fight in the Coach’s arena. That he survived was a miracle. Months ago, the country’s electrical systems were knocked out by a devastating electromagnetic pulse. Wires, microchips, electronics, all were taken out, plunging the United States and most countries back hundreds of years. That included most cars, and even the cars that could run ground to a stop from lack of gasoline.

  The warlord’s hideout had had a tank of gas, but it wouldn’t last. The USS Sardine was down to its last quarter tank. Soon they had to stop and set up camp, but they couldn’t just stop anywhere with thirteen kids. Criver wanted a town, preferably not a big one. The papers they got from the warehouse indicated the warlords had seized the big metropolitan areas. They could be jumping out of one boiling pot into another.

  “Hey, Mister Criver!” That loud voice came from a thin, brown-skinned boy just behind Criver. That was definitely Rinaldo. “I see a house up ahead!”

  “No fair. I saw it first!” shouted Dominick from the opposite window. “I was about to tell him!”

  “Easy. There’s no competition. I give you both credit,” Criver said as the house came into easy view.

  In the past few days, Criver had developed a good feel for some of these kids, not all of them, as a few still kept to themselves. Some, like Terry, had personalities that just leaped right out, while others were quieter.

  Criver wanted to slow down to get a good look at the house, but he wasn’t sure yet they had hit an actual community. He couldn’t cut down the car’s coast yet. Still, he had enough time to see the house was actually black and charred, with much of the roof burned away.

  “Ho-lee!” Terry leaned over a girl’s lap to see past Rinaldo’s chest to the open window.

  “Hey!” The girl, Annie, smacked Terry on the chest. “Get off me!”

  “I want to see!” he protested.

  As they passed the house, it became clear the kids wouldn’t miss much. House after house along the street was burned and gutted.

  Fred, on the other side of Terry, leaned forward as much as he could, his ebony hands grasping the back of the passenger seat. “What happened?”

  Criver gazed at the houses. He had come across burned out buildings in his home city not long after the electricity went out. But to see people’s homes in this condition made his heart sink. “They all caught on fire,” he replied grimly.

  “Why didn’t the firemen put it out?” The question came from Kristin, all in the back seat.

  “Well, after everything got shut down, that also took out the running water. So, I imagine the firemen couldn’t hook their hoses to a fire hydrant. And some of the fire trucks may not have worked either,” Criver replied. “The fire may have started with one house and just kept spreading when there was no water available to fight it.”

  “People!” Dominick pointed out the window. “I see people!”

  Criver turned to his right. Yes, there was a procession of tents, with groups of survivors gathered around them. Many of them turned and looked as Criver’s car passed them by. Obviously, the sight of a working car was rare to them.

  The gaggle of people caught the kids’ attention, with all of them turning to the right. “Hey, let me see!”

  “Get your arm out of my face!”

  “Put your head down!”

  “Calm down!” Criver called to them. This many people may be a good sign. They could be bartering partners. On the other hand, they may be at the end of their rope and might decide to rob them, or try stealing the car.

  Tom, you’re not going to find a place that’s totally deserted. And it looks like this is your best chance to set up camp before it gets dark.

  Criver set his foot back on the gas pedal. He would explore the town and look for a possible resting spot.

  After a short while of turning down street after street, Criver was pleased with what he saw—a small town that probably didn’t hold more than a few thousand when it was up and running. The entire western half was almost packed with refugees. The far eastern part, however, was mostly quiet.

  The blue of the sky above was starting to dim. Criver had to bring them to a stop. This street he just had turned on had few structures to speak of. One caught Criver’s eye. It appeared to be a house, but as he approached, he could make out the words John Wagner Library on a moniker above the doors. The two glass windows sandwiching the front door were untouched. No one had broken in here, perhaps because a library wasn’t exactly a prime place for food and water, or the calamity of the fire simply kept everyone away.

  It was their best prospect. Criver turned into the parking lot, then stopped the vehicle. “We’ve landed!” He raised his hands, exhaling a large breath.

  ***

  Criver stretched his arms. “God.” He cricked his toes inside his boots. He hated sitting down that long. The kids liked it even less as they all started walking or running around the car.

  “Hey, keep it close, don’t run off!” Criver shouted as he hurried to the trunk.

>   “Eww!” That was two girls shouting at once. Jackie and Kristin, no doubt.

  Criver looked over the car. Two girls were pointing at Terry, standing at the edge of the lot, back to Criver, peeing into the grass. “He’s peeing!”

  “I’ve got to, it’s been forever since I went to the bathroom!” Terry protested.

  “Good idea!” On the opposite side of the car, Dominick unzipped his pants.

  “You’re all disgusting!” Annie held a hand to her face.

  “Nobody cares, there’s no police anymore!” Terry shouted, “We can go where we want.”

  “Guys, guys, if you have to go, at least try going…in a bush. Warn the girls before you go,” Criver said as he hurried back to the trunk.

  He arrived just as his adult companion had unbelted herself from the trunk, freeing herself and two children, Amir and Alice. Criver looked into the woman’s eyes. “I’m going to stick my head in the trunk and slam the lid on it repeatedly.”

  The lady hopped out, her black boots slamming onto the concrete. Criver comforted himself with the sight of Cheryl Dennis. Her camouflage pants and green T-shirt showed off her former profession as a U.S. Army Sergeant.

  “Sorry, but there’s no putting you out of your misery.” She tapped him in the chest. “We’re sharing this together.”

  Chuckling, Criver looked past his companion to Amir, the boy who started this whole adventure. “Hey little man. Enjoy the trip?”

  “Yeah. It was great. It’s good it didn’t rain,” he replied.

  “No joke.” Then he turned his attention to Alice. The girl had dirty blond hair and was dressed in a blue shirt and shorts. She smiled and walked to Cheryl.

  A chorus of boys cheering and laughing cut Criver off. “Fred’s pooping!” Jackie shouted.

  Criver and Cheryl looked off to the side and confirmed Jackie’s shout. “Fred!” Cheryl cried out.

  ***

  Criver looked up from the paper that listed all the kids’ names. To his slight embarrassment, he still couldn’t remember all their names. He had them all line up, then he recited each name, to which the child would raise their hand or pipe up. He had to account for each and every one. It would be frighteningly easy for one of them to wander off or perhaps even get overlooked.

  Amir, check. Terry, check. Alice, check. Fred, check. Dominick, check. Rinaldo, check. Kristin, check. Annie, check. Jackie, check. Irvin, check. Charlie, check. Sam, check. Michael… Criver flinched.

  Michael.

  A thin boy with dusty blond hair raised his hand. He barely spoke. That made it easy for Criver to forget his name, yet every time he did recall it, it filled him with melancholy. For Michael was the name of his late son, Michael Christian Criver, who died from a sudden case of SIDS shortly before the EMP hit. Criver couldn’t help but feel awkward around this new Michael.

  Michael, check.

  Cheryl looked over Criver’s shoulder at the library, bringing his thoughts back to Earth. “So, we’re making camp here?”

  “We may not have a choice,” Criver said, keeping his voice low. He couldn’t afford to scare the kids. “With all those kids weighing down the car there’s no way we can go much farther. The gas’ll run out before you know it, and I don’t want to get stuck in the woods.”

  Cheryl marched up to the front door. To no surprise, it was locked. She reached into a small satchel on her belt and pulled out a long, thin metal pick. “I really don’t want to smash the glass,” she said.

  Keeping this place intact would be important. She picked the lock. The door was open. The library was quite small. Two rows ran on either side, with a large middle isle that led to a librarian’s desk.

  Criver sneezed. “Okay, keep this door open and open up any window you can find.” This place needed to be aired out if it was to be livable.

  “Amir, Terry, I need vermin duty. You smell something rotten, look for a dead rat or any animal and then tell me. And if you see food, don’t eat it. It’s been sitting out for God knows how long, and it’s liable to be rotten and filled with germs. You eat it, it can make you sick or kill you.” Then he sneezed again. “Dammit.”

  The children set about their tasks while Criver did a quick scouting trip through the structure. In addition to the main library, there was a men's and a ladies’ bathroom, a storeroom, and a small office. The presence of the bathrooms got the kids excited, so Criver constantly had to tell them, “Don’t use the bathroom! The toilets don’t flush!”

  It was then that Cheryl showed up. Criver wiped his forehead. “So, what’s the story?” he asked.

  “I didn’t see anybody on this street. It’s pretty quiet. But there’s a crowd forming the next street over. Even with the burned-out houses, people are coming in. This town’s probably going to keep filling up. But there are no signs of warlords or any hostiles yet.”

  “They’re just survivors. If we talk to them, it should be okay. We’re going to need help.” He waved his finger.

  Before Cheryl could speak, Dominick came running up to Criver. “Mister Criver! Irvin peed in the toilet when you told him not to!”

  A small boy ran up from the opposite end. “But I couldn’t hold it!”

  Cheryl looked at Criver with a smile, while he sank his head in his hands.

  ***

  The hours ticked down to nightfall. Criver, Cheryl and the children worked steadily, with everyone taking their appropriate duties. Criver handled anything that needed heavy lifting, with Cheryl helping out. The kids moved the supplies and did some fast tiding up in the library, thanks to some brooms discovered in a broom closet. To Criver’s relief, there were no vermin problems, and there seemed to be no obvious signs of disease, molds or mildew Free of the need to set up a tent, the group—the family—was free to prepare the library for their first night.

  Family. When he first had kissed his wife Jessica at the altar, he was excited at their new life together, including their children to be, but he never imagined that someday he’d end up in charge of thirteen of them! After the tragic loss of Michael Christian, Jessica ended their marriage and left their house for the outside world. She was never seen again. Criver hated to think what happened to her after the Darkness fell upon the nation, but in all likelihood, he never would know. He had to consider that chapter of his life closed forever.

  No, this was his family now. A family he still was getting to know.

  Cheryl passed by him, carrying a wrapped up, thin blue sheet. “I hope you don’t mind sleeping under this, but I wanted the kids to get all the blankets and mats and throw pillows we had.”

  “It’s fine. It’s likely to be warm for the next few months anyway.” Criver returned his attention to his immediate task. “Steady, steady…” Criver watched Terry and Fred hold up the sheet.

  “There!” He then slid the small case against it. “Come on down.” The two kids retreated as Criver pushed the nearby bookcase against the sheet, pinning it to the wall.

  “Mister Criver,” Irvin asked, “Why are we covering the windows and the door?”

  Criver exhaled loudly. “So no one can see inside.”

  “Why don’t we want that?” Irvin asked.

  “It’s to keep us safe,” Criver replied, “We just don’t want everyone to see inside.”

  He refrained from saying why. Should the wrong party see the kids inside, they may break in and try kidnapping them. The horrors of the Coach’s operation, plus the revelation that other kidnapping rings were out there, always were in Criver’s thoughts. Plus, there was the chance that someone might try looting them.

  Now I’m slightly less than fully paranoid, he thought to himself, remembering how Cheryl had described herself when they first had met.

  He gazed back at Cheryl, who was leaning over to pick up a box. For the first time in perhaps days, he indulged himself to look at this fantastic woman. In Criver’s eyes, Cheryl Dennis was a beautiful woman, smart, determined, sassy, a fierce defender of all she loves, and for a time, she ha
d a wounded heart. She spent much of her adult life in the army to escape a bad home life with her mother’s new husband, only finding refuge with her brother. To Criver’s surprise, Cheryl never had won the notice of a man, but it seemed she may not have been interested in one anyway.

  At least not until they met.

  Fatigue crept into his limbs. There was no way they could keep going for much longer. He strode up next to her. “Hey. We should probably finalize the checklist.”

  She nodded. “Sure.”

  “Now, Amir got some pee buckets ready in the bathrooms. We just have to remember to dump them.”

  “Check,” Cheryl said, “And we fed everyone.”

  “Amir did that, too.”

  “Water?”

  “Amir…”

  “And you were checking me out.”