Getting Out Read online

  “Must have picked it up somewhere. Wait.”

  He grabbed her arm and held her.

  “There’s someone up there,” whispered John. “In the woods. Do you see them? Stay still.”

  Up ahead, there was the faintest bit of movement. A flash of a color. Synthetic, definitely not natural.

  “Yeah,” whispered Cynthia. “I see them. What do we do? Run?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Let’s wait,” said Cynthia. “See who they are.”

  They ducked down, out of the way, behind a large tree.

  Five minutes later, they could see them. A man and a woman, each with a large hiking backpack.

  “They don’t look dangerous,” whispered Cynthia.

  “I don’t know…”

  John’s gut was telling him not to be afraid. The pair was in their mid-twenties. If it hadn’t been for the EMP, they would have looked like normal hikers, not out of place on any serious trail in Pennsylvania.

  But John’s brain was telling him that he needed to play it safe.

  The hiker couple didn’t look like they were armed. They didn’t look like the types—not that that meant much these days.

  John and Cynthia stayed hidden.

  “What do we do?” whispered Cynthia.

  John didn’t answer. He didn’t want to give away their position.

  Instead, when the sound from the hikers got louder, John rose into view, pointing his handgun at them, holding it as steadily as he could.

  “Don’t move,” he said loudly.

  Cynthia rose up and copied John, holding her gun out too.

  “We don’t want any trouble,” said the man.

  “Hands in the air,” said John.

  They did as he said.

  John got a better look at them now that they were close. The man had close-cropped hair. The woman was pretty, with long blonde hair tied into a ponytail. They both wore wedding rings.

  John had changed. Weeks ago, he’d been living the high life in Center City. He’d been the one someone would have tried to mug. Now he was pointing a gun at strangers.

  But he’d been through a lot.

  Cynthia glanced over at John expectedly. She was waiting for him to do something.

  John had to figure out how to determine if they were a threat or not.

  They certainly didn’t look it.

  But how could he tell just by talking to them? Just do the best he could, he guessed.

  “What are you doing out here?” said John.

  “Same as you, I guess,” said the man. “I’m Derek, and this is Sara. We’re from the suburbs. We decided to hike out when things got bad.”

  John nodded.

  “You armed?”

  “I wish I was,” said Derek. “But unfortunately no.”

  “Put your packs down,” said John.

  John moved over, keeping the gun trained on Derek, and grabbed the packs. He kicked them off to the side. They were heavy, loaded down with gear, and likely food. Gallon water bottles dangled off the sides.

  John wasn’t going to let his guard down, even though the vibe he was getting from these people screamed “normal people, not a threat.”

  “Keep your gun on them,” said John to Cynthia.

  Keeping his own gun on them, he patted them down one by one, checking everywhere he thought a gun might be hidden. Waistband, under the arm, the ankles.

  “Looks like they’re clean,” said John.

  Since there might be a weapon in the packs, and knowing that it would take a long time to go through them, John pushed the packs farther away.

  “You can relax,” said John. “Let’s sit down and have a talk.”

  “Awesome,” said Sara. “I’m beat. We’ve been walking forever.” She threw herself down on the ground, and Derek did the same.

  “Sorry about all that,” said John. But he kept his gun in his hand.

  “No worries,” said Derek. “We know how it is. Everyone’s gone crazy. You don’t know who to trust.”

  John nodded. “Tell me your story. Where are you coming from?”

  “Ardmore,” said Sara. “And we’re headed out as far as we can get. We’ve been hikers forever, so this seemed like the natural route. We already had all the gear.”

  “We hike the Long Trail in Vermont every year,” said Derek. “That’s actually how we met.”

  They seemed like nice, honest people. The more they talked, the more John found himself trusting them. And they really didn’t seem to mind the guns. Maybe Derek and Sara had a good read on people, and could sense that John and Cynthia weren’t going to murder them for their possessions.

  Derek and Sara told them what it’d been like in the suburbs. They’d stayed through the formation of the rogue militia, the same group that had tried to kill John. The group that had murdered Cynthia’s husband.

  “I went through there myself,” said John. “It seemed like it was made up of military guys? The police? It just didn’t make sense. I mean, I knew guys in the service, and cops too. They were good men. And women.”

  John shook his head. “I mean, it was a mix. There were some military guys, some cops. There are bad eggs in any basket, you know? A lot of the guys that we saw in the militia were actually criminals. They’d escaped from the penitentiary. Others were just scrounger types, nobodies who’d been waiting for a chance to break through and have things their way. And the guys who’d been cops, a lot of them just figured they were doing the right thing. Trying to keep things under control and all that.”

  “They did some horrible, horrible things,” said Sara, her face contorting in the memory of it all.

  John looked at Cynthia briefly, but she didn’t seem to want to relive the memory of her husband’s death by talking about it. Not now, at least.

  “The real problem is the leader,” said John. “Apparently he was in the joint for years and years. You’ve never seen someone like him. Missing half his teeth. Tattoos all over him. Just huge. Spent all his years locked up working out. He’d gone in for a triple homicide. Goes by the name Kor. Don’t ask me what it means. Some kind of prison nickname, I don’t know.”

  “You saw him?” said Cynthia, sounding scared.

  “Well, not personally. Or we probably wouldn’t be here. But the rumors were crazy.”

  “Do you know anything else about him?” said John.

  John knew that the more information they had, the better off they’d be. Even though the rogue militia was far away from them, they could still be a threat.

  “Well,” said Derek. “The word is that they’re looking for communication devices.”

  “Communication devices?” said Cynthia. “You mean like cell phones? I thought everyone knew those don’t work.”

  Derek nodded. “They don’t.”

  “The towers aren’t going to work,” said John.

  Everyone nodded.

  “Right,” said Derek. “But a shortwave radio would work.”

  “It’d have been ruined in the EMP,” said John. “It was so powerful that even small electronic devices were affected.”

  Derek nodded. “They’re looking for one that was shielded by a Faraday cage. You know, a metal cage inside another metal cage. It blocks all electromagnetic signals.”

  “Who would have put their shortwave radios in a Faraday cage?” said Cynthia.

  “Well, people who were very prepared,” said Derek. “But think about it, not that many people have shortwave radios to begin with these days. They’re pretty rare.”

  “So what’s the deal? What does this Kor guy want with a shortwave radio?”

  “Rumor is he thinks he can gain more power,” said Sara. “Basically he wants to expand his little empire. And unfortunately, he’s pretty savvy. He knows that communication is going to be crucial for what he wants to do.”

  “Shit,” muttered John. “This isn’t good.”

  “At least we’re pretty far away,” said Cynthia.

  “I d
on’t know how much good that’s going to do,” said Sara. “Word is they’re sending scouting parties out. We narrowly avoided one of them.”

  “You’re lucky to be alive,” said John. “Hiking all the way out from the suburbs. We did the same thing, but it was tough.”

  “We know all the little trails,” said John, giving a half-smile. “Better than most.”

  “Sounds like you’re pretty prepared yourselves,” said John. “I had nothing when I started out.”

  “Well, in a way, yeah. But we need weapons.”

  John thought for a moment. They seemed like good people. And they were pretty relaxed and easygoing, considering the situation. He knew they weren’t going to try to hurt him or Cynthia.

  “Maybe we can help you out with that,” said John. “But what are your plans? Staying around here?”

  “No,” said Derek, shaking his head. “We’re going to keep going.”

  “We want to get out as far as we can,” said Sara.

  John frowned. He wondered if he and Cynthia should be doing the same thing. Maybe the farmhouse wasn’t the best option.

  “You can help us get weapons?” said Sara. There was eagerness in her voice.

  Looking at her, no one would have ever thought she’d be so enthusiastic about the possibility of getting a firearm. Even with the dirt from weeks on the trail with no bathing facilities, she still had a glimmer to her. Derek did too. They looked like they’d been living quite the life back in the suburbs.

  “We have a lot of guns,” said John. He explained how they’d arrived at the farmhouse to find all those dead bodies, and he told them about the guns. “I don’t see the harm in parting with two of them. There’s more than we can use. But would you consider staying at the farmhouse with us? There’s room to grow food. And we could use more people to help us defend it.”

  “That’s tempting,” said Derek. “The thought of continuing on, and not knowing what’s coming next is tough.”

  “Very tough,” said Sara.

  “Why don’t you come over, rest for a little while? Get a good night’s sleep in a real bed, and then decide in the morning. No pressure.”

  “Deal,” said Derek and Sara together.

  They all shook hands and grinned as best they could at each other, considering the grim circumstances.

  “Hey,” said Sara. “Do you hear that?” She perked her head up, almost like an animal.

  They all fell quiet.

  “Sounds like a car engine,” said Cynthia, speaking in a low voice. “A big one.”

  John motioned for everyone to move farther away from the road.

  Could it be that the militia had sent a scouting party out this way already?

  Really, it could be anyone. With any intentions.

  To John’s horror, the car didn’t keep going. From the sound of the engine, the vehicle had clearly stopped. Right near them.

  “What do we do?” whispered Derek.

  John held up a hand, letting them all know to stay quiet. His knuckles were white from gripping his handgun. He wished he’d spent more time practicing before venturing out from the farmhouse.

  There was the sound of a door opening, and slamming closed.

  Shit.

  5

  Mandy

  “We’ve got to find him,” said Max. “We’ll split up. Mandy, you come with me in the new car. Georgia, you take your kids in the Bronco. We’ll meet back here in twenty minutes. Keep your eyes peeled. And your hands on your guns.”

  “What if we don’t find him?” said Sadie. She seemed worried about Chad’s fate.

  Mandy wasn’t worried about him.

  She felt guilty about it. But as far as she was concerned, losing Chad would actually be a benefit to the whole group.

  Sure, he’d saved their lives one time, as Max had said. But how many other times had he put their lives in danger? And how many more times in the future?

  “We’ll find him,” said Max. “But if we don’t, we’ll move on.”

  Mandy was surprised. So far, Max had done everything he could for Chad. Hard love, though, that was what he’d given him.

  Then again, Max seemed like he’d do almost anything for any of them.

  Mandy looked at Max’s battered face, badly bruised, and wondered just how far he’d be willing to go for them. And for her.

  “Come on,” said Max gruffly, as he got into their new vehicle.

  This wasn’t the time for pretty words. This was the time for action.

  The car was lower to the ground than a normal car. It took Mandy some effort to get into the passenger’s seat.

  “This is our new car?” she said, examining the flashy interior. Not just the dash was altered. The seats were aftermarket, too, those racing bucket style seats, with seatbelts meant for track-only use. On the rear windshield there were all sorts of logos and stickers.

  “It’s what we’ve got,” said Max, cranking the engine. “It’s too low for going off-road, unfortunately. And it’ll probably be terrible on gas. But the acceleration might come in handy. Maybe.”

  “Hopefully not,” said Mandy. “I don’t know what we’ll do if we run into guys like those scary guys in the Ford Bronco.”

  “What do you mean?” said Max. “We’ll just do have we have to do. No sense in worrying about it now.”

  “You’re always so pragmatic. So practical.”

  “Worked so far,” was all Max said.

  Mandy glanced in the side mirror, watching as Georgia drove the Ford Bronco slowly in the other direction.

  The Honda was almost unbearably loud as they drove down the block.

  “Look everywhere,” said Max. “Who knows where he’ll be.”

  “Why would he just wander off?” said Mandy.

  Max didn’t answer.

  The sun had gone behind the clouds, and the neighborhood was looking practically dismal under the gray sky. The people who’d lived here had been hard workers. They’d done long shifts, when there was work to be found. They hadn’t had the time or money to spruce up their yards with fancy gardens or shrubbery. The houses were unadorned. Practical and neat, but not fancy.

  Max drove down the street and took a turn. There were a couple more trees on this block, but mostly it was more of the same.

  Just when Mandy was thinking they’d never find Chad, there he was.

  Chad was standing in the middle of a front yard, staring up at the sky. He clutched something in his hand.

  Max parked the car and got out.

  “What the hell are you doing?” shouted Max.

  “Huh?” said Chad.

  He spoke in a weird way. He didn’t slur his words, but his voice sounded different.

  “I thought we’d finally lost you,” said Mandy. “Why the hell would you wander off? You put our lives at risk.”

  Max raised his hand, signaling to her that enough was enough.

  “Are you OK, Chad?” said Max, examining Chad for signs of injuries. He stared into his eyes.

  “Your pupils are contracted.”

  Chad just nodded.

  “He’s using again,” said Mandy. “Opiates make the pupils contract.”

  Mandy was disgusted. How could Chad revert to his old self? Sure, she hadn’t liked him either way. But he’d been doing a lot better.

  “Impossible,” said Max. “Where would he get anything?”

  “Who knows,” said Mandy. “Addicts are resourceful when they want to be. When they need their fix.”

  “I don’t think it’s likely,” said Max. “Maybe he’s cracking under the stress.”

  “I’m fine,” said Chad. He finally looked at them, but the dazed look didn’t leave his face.

  “What has he got there?” said Mandy.

  She impatiently grabbed the paper that Chad held in his hand. She had to really tug on it to get it out.

  “It’s just some kid’s school report,” said Mandy, glancing at it. “Fat lot of good this’ll do us.”

 
Max took it from her and began reading it.

  “Don’t waste your time with it,” said Mandy.

  “Look,” said Max, pointing at a line. “It’s a school report, all right. But it might be useful. See here? It says that this kid’s grandfather lived on a farm in Kentucky.”

  “So what?” said Mandy.

  “The farm’s been in the family for years,” said Max, continuing to read the simplistic school report. “There’s no one living there, and it’s not near anything. It’s way out in the middle of nowhere, some rural part of Kentucky. I think this might be our next plan. We’ll head a little bit south.”

  “Are you serious?” said Mandy.

  “Sure,” said Max. “It’s all here.”

  “But it’s just some report. Maybe he made it all up.”

  “Let’s check the house. Maybe there’s more information. Chad, where’d you get this?”

  “Living room,” mumbled Chad.

  Max checked his watch. “We still have twelve minutes before reuniting with Georgia. Come on, let’s move.”

  Mandy followed Max towards the house.

  “You coming, Chad?” said Mandy.

  He just nodded vaguely and stayed where he was standing, swaying a little.

  “I don’t know where you got whatever it is,” said Mandy. “But you’re definitely on something. You’re not fooling me.”

  Chad didn’t respond.

  Mandy’s grip instinctually tightened on her rifle.

  “You think Chad broke a window?” said Mandy. “How’d he get in?”

  The house looked almost identical to the one they’d gotten the Honda from. The only difference was that it was missing some shutters on the windows. Whoever had owned it probably hadn’t had the money to replace the ones that had fall off.

  “Looks like he just went through the front door,” said Max, as he turned the knob and the door opened. “They probably left in a hurry. Didn’t even lock up.”

  The house was a mess. Clearly the former occupants had scrambled to get ready, leaving their possessions strewn around.

  In the living room, as Chad had said, the rest of the report sat on a coffee table in front of the couch.

  “It’s still just a report,” said Mandy, picking up the papers. Most of what she saw were just first draft versions. Chad had taken the final draft, the one without as many spelling errors.