EMP Post-Apocalyptic Survival by Hunt, James (acx book reading .TXT) 📗

Ben nodded. “That’s good to hear. Why don’t you speak with Mrs. Riker, and she’ll set you up with something?”

Gray smiled. “Sounds good.” He turned to leave, and Ben had the sudden urge to reach out to him one last time.

“Gray,” Ben said, causing the boy to turn around. “How are your folks?”

Gray’s smile vanished. “Unfortunately, the same.” He turned around and disappeared.

“That kid looked kind of depressed for having a second lease on life,” Jackson said.

Ben mounted his horse and then looked back to Gray before turning to Jackson. “He’s had a rough go of it. Comes from a hard family.”

“Family can make or break a man,” Jackson said.

Ben offered one final glance at his own family, Jackson’s words radiating through his head. “Yes, they can.”

Ben and Jackson headed for the gate, Ben glancing behind him one last time at the facility. Because while it looked nothing like the house he had built with Liz when they were first married, it was still home.

Every single person Ben cared about lived here now. His sons, his wife, and his surviving friends. He was doing his best to keep everyone alive, but if he couldn’t convince Jackson to give him the reinforcements he needed to keep them safe, Ben wasn’t sure how much longer they would survive.

7

The town’s sign had been graffitied over, but Mark could still see the original name underneath. Casselberry was one of the smaller mountain towns in the area, with a population of less than one thousand. But it was on the quickest path on their journey toward Asheville, and Mark had no time to waste to go around it.

The fight ahead of them in Asheville would be the first real test of their strength since the EMP was detonated. And while Mark was confident in his own abilities, he wasn’t sure about the rest of his unit.

Mark led a force of one hundred men. He had wanted more, but the supreme leader instructed him that one hundred men were more than enough to go up against any battalion. He liked to reference the Spartans against the Persians and how only one hundred Spartans repelled an entire army, fighting all the way down to the last man.

It wasn’t that Mark was afraid to die, but ever since Mark had run into his brother back in their hometown, there had been a cloud of doubt circling overhead. He couldn’t get his brother’s voice out of his brain. Ben was like Jiminy Cricket preaching against the evil in Mark’s heart.

Mark had never been conflicted in his mission, but a crack had appeared in the once invincible armor that was his loyalty.

“Sir,” one of the scouts appeared from the woods on the side of the road. “The town is half a mile down the road around the bend. They have two sentries stationed on either side of the town on the main road access points, but there is no other security through the woods.”

“If they have the brains to post sentries, then they at least know how to defend themselves,” Mark said. “Did you get a count of how many fighters they have?”

The scout nodded. “I counted at least three dozen armed men walking the streets, maybe the same amount tucked away in the houses and stores. It’s a smaller community, and while the other places we’ve encountered have had weapons, I don’t expect this to be any different. These are fighters, sir, like us.”

“No,” Mark said. “Not like us at all. Have the number two and three teams on standby in the woods. Everyone else follows me to the front.”

“Yes, sir.” The scout dispersed to deliver the commands.

Normally, Mark didn’t need to pep talk himself when it came to his missions. He had always been able to turn it on when he needed to and then turn it off when he was finished. But for the entirety of that last half mile, Mark couldn’t get his head on straight.

As Mark neared the front of the town with his men, he saw the two guards the scout told him would be waiting for them. They were both middle-aged men armed with hunting rifles.

“I think that’s far enough,” the first guard said.

Mark held up his hand, and his men slowed to a stop behind him. They had marched on foot, and to the small towns they had come across, they looked like a ragtag group of men searching for shelter or food. But they were far more dangerous.

“What brings you to our neck of the woods?” The sentry who spoke was a heavyset man wearing a dirtied white crew shirt and jeans.

“We come with good news,” Mark said, “for anyone willing to listen.”

The pair of sentries exchanged a glance, and then the heavyset one spoke again. “And what good news would that be?”

“Yeah, did you bring the power with you?” the second sentry asked and then chuckled to himself. He had a high-pitched laugh, but it matched his small frame. The man couldn’t have weighed more than one-twenty soaking wet. The rifle in his hands was almost as big as he was.

“No power,” Mark said. “Just an opportunity.”

Mark noted the number of people slowly gathering at the front of the town now. It seemed their curiosity outweighed their fear. From the looks of them, Mark didn’t think these folks had suffered much. Casselberry was so far away from any major city that they had probably escaped the wrath from their main units after the EMP was detonated. These people might not even know what was going on.

“And what opportunity is that?” the heavyset sentry asked, keeping his rifle at the ready despite no sign of aggression from Mark and his people. Not that it would make a difference.

“To join a cause,” Mark said, taking a few steps forward and now speaking more to the people who had come forth from the town to see what was going on. “There is a