War Buds 3: Overcome (A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Thriller), page 1
WAR BUDS 3
Overcome
Jack Hunt
Contents
Also by Jack Hunt
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
A Plea
Newsletter
About the Author
Copyright © 2017 by Jack Hunt
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
WAR BUDS 3: Overcome is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
For my Family
Also by Jack Hunt
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The Agora Virus series
Phobia
Anxiety
Strain
Camp Zero series
State of Panic
State of Shock
State of Decay
Renegades series
The Renegades
The Renegades Book 2: Aftermath
The Renegades Book 3: Fortress
The Renegades Book 4: Colony
The Renegades Book 5: United
Armada series
Defiant
Mavericks series
Mavericks: Hunters Moon
Time Agents series
Killing Time
“I prefer dangerous freedom over peaceful slavery.”
Thomas Jefferson, 1787
Prologue
Four months since fallout
Cyrus Ramsey slammed a magazine into his AR-15. After chambering a round, he brought the scope to his eye and scanned the desolate landscape on either side of Highway 395. He’d been waiting inside the two-man foxhole for the better part of an hour. A harsh wind nipped at his face, causing him to readjust his beanie to cover his ears. It was freezing, his breath clouded in front of his lips. It would soon be winter and survival was at the forefront of his mind. Supplies were at an all-time low even though they had managed to scavenge what little remained in surrounding towns, and steal the rest from unprepared travelers
Beside him, Damon Hartwig was fidgeting. The sound of a match striking a box made him turn his head. Damon cupped a hand near his mouth as he lit a cigarette.
“Put that out, they’ll see the smoke.”
Damon shook the match. “Who? Cyrus, we’ve been at this now for three days in a row and we haven’t seen anyone.”
“Put it out.”
Damon pinched the end of it, then tucked the charred remainder behind his ear.
“Fuck’s sake man, this is bullshit.”
“You’ve got to have patience.”
“Patience? I don’t see why we don’t just deploy the spike strips and keep one guy down here with the radio. They aren’t going to be able to run anywhere. We could be here in less than twenty minutes.”
Cyrus ignored him and got on the radio. Static crackled over the speaker.
“Victor, you got eyes on anyone?” he asked.
“Not yet.”
They were positioned halfway between Mammoth and Bishop. It was roughly a forty-minute drive on an ordinary day. Victor and Joe were in a hole a quarter of a mile down the road. That main stretch of highway in the first two months had offered up numerous opportunities to prey upon the weak. Though with winter coming, fewer people were traveling by horse, foot or vehicle. Abandoned cars and trucks were dotted across the road like a scrapyard. Doors were open, baggage was scattered and gas had already been siphoned out. Desperate times had driven people to commit all manner of atrocities in order to survive. It wasn’t personal. Since the fallout, the town of Mammoth Lakes had become nearly deserted. No one really knew how to cope with the blackout. Some fled, others stayed, many died.
Damon leaned his AR-15 up against the inside of the foxhole and climbed out.
“What are you doing?”
“Putting down the strip.”
“Are you stupid?”
Damon wagged his finger in Cyrus’s face. “I told you, don’t call me that.”
“Think, Damon. What use is a vehicle going to be to us if the tires are flat?”
He wasn’t the brightest spark but they’d known each other since their short stint in the military. They’d both settled into life as mechanics in Mammoth Lakes and for the most part kept to themselves and tried to live out a meaningful existence until the shit storm of the century occurred. Since then they had banded together with friends and family to ensure they wouldn’t go without.
Damon stormed over from the middle of the road with the strip in hand, and he tossed it back into the hole. “We should be out there, looking for them.”
“And get yourself killed?” He shook his head. “It’s about making smart choices. If they waltz into our neighborhood we’ll handle them but I’m not going out of my way to start a war. Besides, do you honestly think they are faring any better than us?”
He shrugged and looked despondent. Cyrus sighed. “Go ahead and have the cigarette, just keep it low.”
It didn’t take much to put a smile on his face. It was the small things now, anything to provide a level of normality in a country that had collapsed. Without any communication with the outside, they hadn’t been able to know what the level of danger was, who had attacked America or what they were facing beyond what they had learned so far. But right now it didn’t matter. All that mattered was making sure they had that next meal, their weapons were loaded and they had enough supplies to make it through the fall and winter.
Victor’s voice came back over the radio, it was low, almost a whisper.
“Cyrus. A target is approaching.”
“How many?”
“Two. They’re moving fast, Cyrus. Really fast.”
He furrowed his brow. “Roger. Take out the second driver, we’ll handle the first.”
Two vehicles? The rumble of a truck could now be heard. Victor would usually take out the driver, causing the vehicle to go out of control, and Cyrus and Damon would finish off the remaining occupants, however, that was if there was one vehicle. More often than not, folks were traveling on horseback.
“How do you want to do this?” Damon asked. Cyrus scrambled out of the foxhole and stayed low in the tree line waiting for the sound of Victor’s gunshot. In the past, they could usually take them out from the foxhole but this time there could be no room for error.
The truck was a blue Chevy 4 x 4; the one behind it was some old piece of crap that looked like it had seen better days. A trail of dust lifted behind them. They were gunning the engines as if they were being chased, except there was no one following.
The crack of Victor’s rifle, and the sudden loss of control from the second truck was their signal to step out into the middle of the road. Both of them raised their AR-15’s and unloaded a flurry of rounds at the windshield. In an instant, glass shattered and a red mist sprayed before the driver slumped and the vehicle swerved off to the right and crashed into the ditch. Metal crunched and flying dirt filled the air before it came to a grinding halt. The passenger side door flew open and a middle-aged man dropped out and returned fire before trying to flee.
It wasn’t uncommon to see people fight back. It was the way the world was now. Who knew what their situation was? It was probably much like theirs — desperate. That’s why Cyrus didn’t think twice about killing a stranger. When it came down to it, it was their life or his. It wasn’t like they hadn’t encountered their fair share of roaming gangs who had shown up and tried to take from them. They hadn’t once come across anyone willing to help them, so why would they?
“I’ve got him!” Damon said dropping to a knee, and squeezing the trigger twice. The first shot missed, the second struck him. His legs buckled and he landed hard, crying out in pain. As Damon moved in to finish him off, Cyrus told him to wait.
“But…”
“I said wait!” Cyrus snapped. They hurried over to the man who had waded across a small river and made it a few feet up a steep embankment before he collapsed. Seeing them approach, his fingers raked at the soil in one final attempt to reach his rifle but it was out of reach. He flipped over just as Damon pressed a muddy boot against his bloody thigh.
Groaning in pain, and through gritted teeth he spoke, “Please. Take whatever you want. Just…”
Cyrus bent down cradling his rifle and looked at the man. He sniffed hard. “Why are you in such a hurry?”
“What?”
He genuinely seemed confused by the question.
“Speeding. Why were you speeding? Were you trying to get away from that other tr
“No,” he said shaking his head. “That was my brother.”
Tears welled up in his eyes. Were they genuine? No one cared.
“So?” he probed him.
His face contorted. Confusion, agony and despair all rolled into one. “Don’t you know?”
“What?”
He was getting a little impatient with the man acting so vague.
“Russian and North Korean troops have seized the city of Bishop. They are taking residents into custody and executing anyone who resists.”
Cyrus sat back and stared at him blankly. Was he having a mental breakdown? Troops occupying? He knew the country was at war and they had suffered a nuclear attack, but troops on U.S. soil? Russians and Koreans? And why the hell would they be in Mono County? There was nothing here for them.
“And you managed to escape?” Damon asked.
“We weren’t in the city. We have a farm on the outskirts. My brother saw the soldiers arrive. Paratroopers. Some arrived in trucks.”
Cyrus didn’t know what to make of it. Was the guy delirious? Was he trying to sell them a line in the hope that they would have mercy on him? He was going to die either way, as they didn’t leave anyone behind. And they sure as hell didn’t give anyone a free pass. That was a rookie mistake.
“How many?”
Damon stifled a laugh and Cyrus glared at him. He knew he thought it was a joke but after the shit the country had just gone through, it wasn’t a far stretch of the imagination to think that whoever had dropped the nukes would eventually follow through with a full-scale invasion.
“How the fuck should I know? We didn’t stick around to count them.” He groaned as Damon applied pressure to his wound. “Please. No. There was a lot. That’s all I know.”
“That’s all you know?”
He nodded. Without missing a beat Cyrus straightened up and fired a round through the man’s skull. They turned and walked away without a second thought. Killing had become the norm. Keeping people alive only meant more mouths to feed and they were already scraping the bottom of the barrel trying to stay alive themselves.
“You think he’s full of shit?” Damon asked as they crossed the river and made their way over to where Victor and Joe were going through the second truck and pulling out anything that was of use.
“Well, there is only one way to find out.”
Damon looked at him and frowned. “We aren’t going anywhere near it.”
“No? And what if he was telling the truth? If they’ve moved this far north, it won’t be long before they reach Mammoth and then what? Our only advantage is to find out.”
“Hey Cyrus,” Victor held up a six-pack of Budweisers. That was all Damon needed to distract him.
“Are you kidding me?” Damon hollered, hurrying over. Victor tossed him one and he cracked it open and chugged it down in one go. Cyrus didn’t take one. His focus shifted to the road that wound its way off into the distance, towards Bishop. They were a good twenty minutes away. Had the men been spotted heading this way? If they had, it wouldn’t be long before soldiers would be heading their way, if there were any.
Their group of eleven had survived so far because they hadn’t encountered anyone capable of giving them real trouble, well, except for a small group they had a run-in with a few months back but they had all but vanished.
“Cyrus. Cyrus.” Victor repeated his name to get his attention while holding out a beer. He took it and cracked it open but didn’t drink it. His mind was occupied by the dead man’s words.
“What is it?” Victor asked.
“He thinks troops are on the ground,” Damon said letting out a chuckle. Cyrus ignored him. Whether it was true or not, he didn’t like surprises and he certainly wasn’t going to ignore the stranger. They were speeding for a reason, and there was only one reason anyone shifted ass now and that was a threat against their life.
“Victor, take the second vehicle and drive it into the tree line, stash it out of sight. We’re going to pay Bishop a visit and see for ourselves.”
“Are you serious?”
As if snapping out of a trance, Cyrus turned and glanced at him. He didn’t need to raise his voice or lose control to make it clear that he wasn’t screwing around. They had all known him long enough.
“Okay.” He jogged over to the truck and drove it out of view.
“You know, the other truck has several cases of baby food. Not exactly my idea of good food but you can’t be picky now,” Joe said. Cyrus cut him off as he was about to continue.
“Joe, drag the driver out of the other truck and bring it around.”
He didn’t argue and just went to it. Damon however wasn’t as easy to convince. Their entire lives he’d questioned Cyrus over his decisions. If he wanted to go left, Damon usually had three reasons why they should go right. It didn’t matter if going right was a dumb move or not. He got off on doing the opposite, usually to get a rise out of Cyrus.
“Look, Cyrus, I’m all for seeing if he’s telling the truth but shouldn’t we wait until this evening?”
“We might not have until then.”
“And if they see us?”
Cyrus backhanded his stomach. “Grow a pair.”
He heard Damon exhale hard as Cyrus turned back towards the road and finished off the beer. He didn’t want to believe that troops were beginning to occupy America but they had to be prepared for the worst. Joe pulled around the truck, and they waited for Victor to join them before heading towards Bishop.
Cyrus had Victor pull off a few miles from the city. He knew the area well as he’d spent the first ten years of his life in Bishop before his father took a job in Mammoth. They cut through a farmer’s field, and he had him bring the truck around to the back of a home. They parked there and crossed through a field to a large area called Millpond Recreation Area. Moving at a crouch they threaded their way around trees until they crested a rise. Cyrus brought up a pair of binoculars and scanned the western side of Bishop. He nodded slowly.
“Let me take a look.” Damon was eager to see for himself.
Sure enough the place was occupied by troops. It was hard to tell how many there were as they were spread out and from the looks of it had set up two checkpoints on U.S. Highway 395 and Red Hill Road. Damon lowered the binoculars and looked over to Cyrus who had pulled out a cigarette. He stared at it like it was his last and rolled it between his fingers before placing it into his lips and lighting it.
“What does this mean?”
“What the fuck do you think it means?” Victor said taking a turn to look through the binoculars. “We are at war.”
“No. I mean. What do we do now?”
Cyrus had no idea. His mind was reeling and still processing it all. This changed everything. It was no longer about preparing to survive the winter. They were going to need help, but they had all but burned their bridges with those in Mammoth.
“That group we encountered. Where did you last see them?” Cyrus asked Damon.
“On the west side of town — Crestwood Hills.”
Chapter 1
Forty-eight hours later
Walker was a shithole in the middle of nowhere. An hour and twenty minutes north of Mammoth Lakes, the small town had boasted a population of seven hundred and twenty-one before the fallout. Now it was deserted. At least that’s what they thought when they entered early that morning searching for supplies. They’d got into the habit of going out twice a week to surrounding towns to see what they could scavenge. Food and water was a top priority yet they would take anything that was useful. Even though Mack had well stocked the camp at Iron Mountain there were now twenty mouths to feed. When they weren’t hunting animals or searching nearby towns, they worked in rotating shifts patrolling the area.
Brody felt the noose tighten around his neck. Chase was beside him.
“Ever had one of those déjà vu moments?” Chase said grimacing as the two large men pushed them forward towards the edge of what appeared to be a new building. They shuffled forward, their wrists and ankles bound tight.
“I gotta say, this is a very unorthodox method of hanging,” Brody remarked.
