Getting Out: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller (The EMP Book 1) Page 22

  Mandy realized that she’d assumed Max would be there with them, his comforting, strong presence, his leadership. But maybe he wouldn’t make it…

  She realized that she’d assumed that she and Max would become a couple. It had happened quickly, this change in mindset, and it had become something of a background thought that she merely assumed…

  Now, though, she wasn’t so sure. He might not make it back.

  After a couple hours of waiting on the porch, Chad told her that she’d better get inside and get some rest. He assured her that he was fine to stay up. He still couldn’t sleep right because of not having his pills. The stuff was out of his system, but it would be a long time before his body was back to normal.

  But Mandy stayed on the porch with him, refusing to budge, even when Georgia came out and asked her to come inside.

  “I’m just going to wait out here a little longer,” said Mandy.

  Georgia nodded, and went back inside with her kids.

  Chad and Mandy didn’t speak through the night.

  Mandy’s mind was filled with a thousand thoughts. She thought about the future, how they would survive out here, how they would grow their food, how they would defend themselves against the hordes of people that Max had assured her would come from the city.

  But most of all she thought of Max.

  The hours of the night passed. Long, dark hours. The animals were awake, making noises. Mandy heard the hoot of an owl, and movement off in the distance. Towards dawn, they heard the birds waking up, singing their songs.

  The sky was cloudless, and the moon faintly illuminated the fields in front of them, all the way to the edge of the forest. Their eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, giving them good night vision.

  The sounds were not what Mandy was used to. Back in her suburban life, the only sounds she’d heard at night were cars speeding by on the highway. And the occasional bird in the morning, of course. But the sounds in the suburbs were nothing like the sounds out here. If this had been a vacation, Mandy would have felt relaxed. And that was the strange thing—this was just the sort of place one might come for a relaxing vacation, to get away from it all.

  The sun was rising, and Mandy was still awake.

  “You still awake?” said Chad.

  Mandy just grunted her acknowledgement.

  “He’ll be here soon,” said Chad, trying to comfort her. He seemed to understand her feelings for Max.

  But Mandy didn’t see how he could possibly come back. It should have only taken him a few hours at the most. But it had been all night.

  “Hey,” said Chad, poking her. “Look!”

  Mandy lifted her tired head and looked to where Chad was now pointing.

  At the edge of the overgrown field, there was Max.

  It was definitely him. Mandy felt she would recognize him from any distance.

  He was emerging from the forest.

  Her heart leapt as she saw him.

  But something was wrong. He wasn’t walking right.

  “He’s limping!” said Mandy.

  She got up off the steps quickly and ran towards Max.

  Chad followed, his heavy footsteps falling at a distance.

  “Max!” cried out Mandy.

  33

  Max

  Max woke up in a bed, the morning light streaming in through the window. He looked at the window, and saw that the glass was cracked, but not totally broken. Below the window sill lay some wooden boards that he guessed had been used to board up the window. Someone had removed them.

  Max felt better than he had all week. His body was recuperating, as he’d hoped.

  He moved his leg under the sheets, straightening it. It felt stiff, but it was good he could move it. Hopefully soon he would be able to walk easily. For now, he was confined to the bed. He hated being in this position. He didn’t like feeling like he was an imposition to everyone else, even though they all assured him that that wasn’t the case.

  When Max had first arrived at the farm house, he hadn’t thought that he was going to make it. His vision had been blurry and he could barely see the house, let alone a few feet in front of him. His vision had swum and he’d been so filled with pain that he was sure he couldn’t take another step.

  It had taken him all night to make the short hike. He’d needed frequent breaks, sitting down on the trail, lying down, whatever it took to gain just a little bit more energy, to have a slight break from the constant pain in his leg. As he’d continued walking, the wound had bled. The more he had walked, the more it had bled, but there was nothing he could do about it except tighten the tourniquet and grit his teeth against the horrible searing pain that rocked through him, burning his body like a high-powered laser.

  If someone had come along, another convict, Max would have been done for. But he had been lucky. He hadn’t met anyone on the trail.

  He remembered Mandy and Chad running towards him. He remembered hands carrying him into the farm house. He remembered someone pouring alcohol down his throat, some type of harsh vodka that burned his mouth, but helped a little with the pain. They’d laid him out on the dining room table and Max vaguely remembered Georgia using a kitchen knife to cut away his clothes entirely, as Mandy bent over him and checked the wounds. He remembered how frantic everyone had acted, how worried they’d been. The last thing he remembered was Mandy leaning over him with a pair of medical forceps.

  Mandy had filled him in on the details after he’d woken up a day later. She’d grabbed a medical field guide that Georgia had with her. She’d learned on the spot how to remove a bullet from a body, and apparently she’d done a good enough job because Max was still alive, and he was sure that his leg was healing nicely.

  “How you feeling?” said Mandy, poking her head into the room.

  “Good,” said Max, grinning at her. “Thanks to you.”

  She blushed. “You keep going on about the impromptu surgery,” she said. “But it’s nothing you wouldn’t have done for me.”

  “I just don’t think I would have been able to pull it off successfully,” said Max.

  Mandy laughed. “Who knows,” she said. “Hopefully we won’t have to do any more surgeries on the dining room table.”

  “How’s the day looking?” said Max.

  “Good,” said Mandy. “Chad’s been up since before dawn organizing the food.”

  “How’s it looking?”

  Mandy seemed to force a grin. “We’ve got about a month left,” she said. “And now that the well is bringing water through the pipes, we’ve got enough water for…”

  “For a while, hopefully,” said Max.

  “Yeah,” said Mandy. “I don’t know anything about wells, and was hoping you did.”

  “Sorry,” said Max, shrugging. “I don’t. I guess to be safe, we should find a nearby stream or something.”

  “We need to check the water filters,” said Mandy. But she looked at Max, and seemed to see that he was just as worried as she was about all these things. “But don’t worry about that now, Max. You just need to get your strength back. We’re getting on fine without you.”

  Max knew that Mandy knew he wanted to be up and active, helping out. That was just his nature.

  But Max also knew that he wouldn’t be much good to anyone if he didn’t let his leg properly heal.

  “No sign of any more convicts?” said Max.

  “No,” said Mandy, shaking her head.

  “It’s only a matter of time,” said Max.

  “We’ll be prepared,” said Mandy, a look of determination on her face. “Chad, James, and Sadie have been working on digging a trench.”

  “Good,” said Max.

  “Let’s see how that leg’s doing,” said Mandy, approaching the bed.

  She pulled the sheet back and studied Max’s leg.

  “Looking good,” she said. “No black spots or anything.”

  “Dr. Mandy approves?” said Max.

  She nodded and smiled at him.

>   She leaned down, and Max reached up and pulled her closer to him. His mouth met hers, and they shared a deep, passionate kiss.

  “Well,” said Mandy, blushing as she pulled away, straightening up. “I’d better get back to see how Georgia’s doing in the kitchen. I’ll bring your breakfast soon.”

  Max just smiled at her as she left the room. He reached for a book that had been lying on the bedside table. He’d been reading it all yesterday. It was a field guide to edible plants native to their area of Pennsylvania.

  Max’s eyes sank into the words as he absorbed them. He knew that this book might hold the key to surviving the coming winter.

  There were many obstacles that they faced—hunger, escaped convicts, the hordes leaving the cities.

  Max had always possessed that grim determination that had served him well so far. But for the first time since the EMP, Max actually felt optimistic about their chances.

  Book 2 is out! Look for Staying Alive: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Thriller, book 2 in The EMP.

  Free short story available. Sign up for my mailing list to receive information on new releases: http://eepurl.com/c8UeN5

  About Ryan Westfield

  Ryan Westfield is an author of post-apocalyptic survival thrillers. He’s always had an interest in “being prepared,” and spends time wondering what that really means. When he’s not writing and reading, he enjoys being outdoors.

  Contact Ryan at ryanwestfieldauthor@gmail.com