Grid Down: A Strike against America - An EMP Survival Story- Book Two (12 page)

The sheriff sat up straight again, peering at them through his aviator sunglasses. He picked up a pen on his desk and started to tap it. “I understand where you’re coming from. I know about loss. My wife… well, let’s just say I miss her. And sometimes I wake up at night not knowing where I’ve been. I’ve had the same dream over and over again where I’m a sheriff of another town, fending off maniacs from getting inside our walls.”

“He’s built a wall around Nyack,” Mila said. “At least fifteen feet tall. And he’s not going to stop there. He’s going to come for this town too.” She vaulted up from her chair, startling the men in the room. “Now’s the time to fight them. We can’t do it without you. I know the weak points in town, places we can enter, undetected. I’d do it myself if I could, but I can’t.”

“I don’t know,” the sheriff said. He looked up. “What do you think, Jordan?”

Jordan stepped forward, pondering the decision before them. “The question is, should we get involved?”

“You think that you’re safe here?” Mila said. “If he attacked you before, I can guarantee he’ll be back. That’s how he operates. His ego is larger than the size of both our towns.”

“We don’t know that,” Jordan said.

“You don’t know that he won’t,” Carlos added. “Are you willing to take that chance?”

A brief silence came over the room as the sheriff leaned forward and crossed his arms over his desk. “It’s going to take my people some convincing. Survival is hard enough as it is without stirring up more trouble. What exactly do you need from me?”

“Anyone who can handle themselves,” Mila said. “Anyone who can give us a chance against these monsters. I can get you into the town. I can help you fight. And after we win, I’ll be forever in your debt.”

The sheriff nodded and studied Mila with what looked like admiration. “I appreciate your tenacity… but it’s not entirely up to me.” He laid his hands flat on the surface of his desk. “Here’s what I can do. We get some of our best people together for the job and ask them.”

“What can you give us in return?” Jordan interrupted.

Mila and Carlos thought to themselves. “We brought supplies,” Mila said.

“Keep going,” Jordan said.

“Our weapons?” Carlos said.

“That’s a start.”

“The Buick,” Mila said outwardly. All eyes went to her.

“No,” Carlos said. “The Buick is off the table. Hell, Mila. It’s not even ours.”

The sheriff, however, seemed to take keen interest in the offer. “You hand over your car, and then we can talk. That’s for starters.”

Mila and Carlos looked at each other with little to say.

“Surely this isn’t the first time you’ve had to barter?” the sheriff asked.

Mila turned to him. “We’ll give you
a
car. The Buick doesn’t belong to us.”

The sheriff’s eyes widened. “You mean you have more cars that run?” He smacked his desk with his palm and laughed. “Jordan, you know what we have here? A couple of doomsday preppers!”

Mila and Carlos awkwardly smiled as the sheriff’s laughter died and his face went serious. “You get me in that town, little lady, and my people will do what we can. But first, I need to rile them up.”

Outside the police station, the sheriff had called his strongest and most resourceful team to help Mila and Carlos in their fight against the criminal forces of Nyack. Around fifty no-nonsense men and women showed up just after hearing the name Arthur.

“We remember the man,” the sheriff said from his soapbox. “He terrorized this town, but we pushed him back. Now it’s come to my attention that he’s taken over another town—our neighbor, Nyack. In a few short months, he’s built a wall around the town and changed its name to Tartarus.”

Laughter emitted from the crowd as Mila and Carlos stood close to the sheriff, hoping they would garner the support needed for their cause.

“It’s no laughing matter, ladies and gentlemen,” the sheriff continued. “We’ve been down this road before. I believe it’s time that we helped our neighbors and took out this cancer once and for all.”

The crowd listened attentively without clear indication of where their emotions were. Apparently, riling them up was going to take some work.

“Arthur has deemed himself mayor and terrorized the good people you see before you,” the sheriff continued. “Mila and Carlos here have come to us asking for our help. Many of you will ask yourselves why you’d risk your life for complete strangers. I know because I asked myself the same question. Jordan here too.”

He paused and looked to Jordan, who stood to the side, observing.

“But after talking about it, I’m convinced that Arthur poses every bit of a threat to our town as he does to our friends here. That’s why it’s important to take him out before he comes back with more people. More firepower. And more determination than ever.”

The townspeople followed along with stern expressions that matched their apprehensions. They weren’t warriors, by any measure. Their faces were tired and dirty. They wore layers of tattered clothing like vagrants. But there was anger in their eyes. Anger that Mila believed Arthur could ignite.

“Who will join them to fight back? Who will say, ‘Enough’?” The sheriff stopped to catch his breath and then pointed into the crowd. “Bill Howell. You remember what Arthur and his men did to your home. The home you worked decades restoring.”

“They tore it to pieces!” Bill, a pale, disheveled man, shouted from the crowd.

“That’s right,” the sheriff said, pacing the stage. “Susan Miller. Those sons of bitches raided your house, beat you and your husband, and left you for dead.”

“They did,” she said from deep within the crowd. Her face was scarred, and her eyes welled with tears. “And we’ll never be the same again. There’s no going back from that.”

“Care to even the score?” the sheriff said, leaning forward. He took a step back and bellowed out in his loudest voice yet. “It’s time to help our neighbors! It’s time to reclaim a town that has suffered a fate worse than our own. It’s time to take the fight to the people who wronged us. I ask again, who’s with me?”

The crowd responded with wild enthusiasm, whistling and shouting. Mila looked at them, somewhat surprised. They looked angry and impassioned. The cheering continued, filling Mila with hope. She moved near the sheriff and put her hand on his shoulder, thanking him.

He leaned close to her and tried to speak over the crowd. “We’re still good on that Buick, right?”

Mila hesitated. “Anything for your help.” She didn’t like the idea of offering up Peter’s car, but there was no going back. The sheriff had done his part. So far.

He cut in. “I don’t plan to take it now. It’ll be perfect as a lead back to Nyack,” he said, putting his hand out.

Mila handed him the keys as Carlos shook his head.

“You won’t regret it,” the sheriff said with a smile. “We beat these scumbags before; we’ll do it again.”

She didn’t know how she was going to explain it to Peter. They could work something out. There could be some compensation. He would have to understand. She would have traded twenty Buicks if there was hope of getting Rob back. Nothing was more important.

Rob was back in his cell, alone with his thoughts. If Arthur had meant anything he had said, the opportunity was there. The townspeople needed help. Rob wanted to help them, but any kind of alliance with Arthur was out of the question. Perhaps there was another angle. He knew that Arthur regularly mistreated the residents, taking prisoners and punishing them with forced labor. Yet now Arthur was masquerading as a legitimate official, one who was concerned for the well-being of the residents. Rob didn’t believe any of it.

Arthur wanted power above all, and the more Rob thought about it, the more Arthur’s proposal made sense. Arthur’s power relied heavily on controlling all the town’s resources. Rob’s self-sufficiency knowledge, outdoors survival skills, and prepper know-how was a resource in itself.

Of course,
Rob thought.
The bastard has no intention of letting me leave.
  

He examined his darkened cell. The tiny window was much too high up and small to even consider escaping through. There was no escape from his cell. The key, Rob believed, was to get himself in a position where escape was possible. He burned with determination and wondered how many others had been taken from their families and locked in this very same room.

He was startled out of his daydream when he heard the sound of keys jingling and the door unlocking. His body ached from Larry’s cheap blows. He figured that before the day was over, more beatings were in order. An armed guard stepped inside, one Rob hadn’t seen before. He was older than most and had gray hair and a bushy beard. Tattoos ran up both arms, and his face looked as though he had seen plenty of things in his lifetime. He said nothing as he glared at Rob with contempt.

Before Rob could ask him what he wanted, he simply stepped aside as a man in a suit walked in. Rob had
seen
him
before. He was the supposed pastor, who had declared Arthur some kind of divine being in front of the townspeople. Another man with glasses walked in, wearing slacks and a button-down dress shirt and tie, sleeves rolled up, and a pair of purple latex gloves. They were both well-groomed and far different from the usual convicts Rob was used to seeing.    

“Hello, Mr. Parker. I’m—”

“I know who you are, Phelps. Arthur send you here?” Rob asked. He didn’t get up, just stayed there sitting on his mattress.

“Yes. He wanted me to talk with you, but that’s not the only reason I’m here.”

The two men looked at the guard as he stood watching by the open door.

“Think we could have a moment here?” Phelps asked.

The guard flashed a look of incredulity. “You wanna be alone with
that
guy?” he asked, pointing. “You got some kind of death wish?”

“It’s quite all right,” the man with the rolled-up sleeves said. He then turned to Rob. “My name is Dr. Layish, and I’ve been sent here to check you out.”

Rob shook his head in amazement and laughed. “This is one hell of a place.”

“So if you would, please,” Phelps said to the guard, gesturing toward the door.

The guard fidgeted with the door handle, slowly moving the door back and forth on its hinges. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. After that kid got shot, we’re supposed to be a lot stricter ’round here.”

Rob perked up. “What kid?”

“Nothing you need to worry about,” the guard said.

“Sir, please,” Phelps said to the guard. “Can’t you see that you’re already upsetting this man?”

“What kid?” Rob asked. “I want to know.”

The guard looked at Phelps, backed away, and started to leave the room. “You got five minutes. Anything happens, that’s on you.” He slowly closed the door behind him.

Layish and Phelps looked at Rob with concern.

“What kid was he talking about?” Rob asked.

“An unfortunate tragedy involving a young prisoner being shot trying to escape,” Phelps said. “But I don’t know the details.”

Rob swung his head to Layish. “What about you?”

“This is the first I’ve heard about it. Now, can you stand up, please?”

“This is stupid,” Rob said. “I don’t need a doctor, and I don’t need a pastor. Tell your boss that he’s won. Tell him that I don’t need any more convincing.”

Layish stepped closer. “Please stand. I want to have a look at you.”

Rob groaned and stood up. Layish walked over to him, examining him through oval-shaped spectacles. “Are you feeling any pain or discomfort?”

“No,” Rob said.

“Can you lift your shirt, please?”

Rob grudgingly raised his shirt, exposing a bruised back and side. Layish immediately zeroed in on the marks.

“What happened here? Where did you get the bruises?” He lightly touched Rob’s side with a gloved hand.

“Where do you think?” Rob said. “One of Arthur’s goons took a couple of cheap shots at me earlier. I’ll live.”

Layish seemed less than satisfied. “You need to let Arthur know. His guards can’t be doing this to prisoners.”

“I’m sure he’ll make it a top priority,” Rob said, lowering his shirt. Layish had him open his mouth and stick out his tongue. He took his blood pressure with a Velcro arm band and small pump he pulled from his pocket. As the examination continued, Phelps at first watched quietly then began speaking in a raised voice.

“I used to be like you, Rob. I was a man of my convictions. And I’m still that man today. But what I came to realize is that Arthur’s methods, though questionable at times, have held this town together. I heard that things were pretty bad at the beginning, but he’s changed. I truly think he cares about this community now. If you spend some more time with him, you’ll see that.”

“I told you I don’t need any more convincing. I said that I’ll help. But don’t for one second try to convince me that he’s nothing more than a degenerate psychopath.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Phelps said. “Layish can vouch for that too.”

Layish nodded. “That’s true. Arthur
has
changed. He wants this community to work.”

“He wants power, and he’s afraid to lose it,” Rob said. “Without heat, half the people in town will freeze to death. He doesn’t care if they die. He only cares if they try to leave. That’s why he’s pushing this insane wall project.”

“Nonsense,” Layish said loudly. “You couldn’t be more wrong. Why can’t we all work together?”

“For the better of the community,” Phelps added.

“Whatever you say. Just remember, some day he’ll pay for all that he’s done. And you two will be judged right next to him.”

Phelps did a one-eighty and leaned close to Rob. “We have to be careful. Arthur has spies everywhere,” he whispered.

Rob turned to him, his brows raised.

“You appear to be in good health, Mr. Parker,” Layish said loudly. “Try to take it easy on the back.”

“We don’t have much time, so I’ll make this fast,” Phelps continued. “We need to stop him before it’s too late.”

“What are you talking about?” Rob whispered back.

“Dr. Layish and I have been coerced to help him, just like you. He made promises to me as well, and I have to play along.”

Layish then spoke in a whisper. “I heard them talking. Crazy things. Unbelievable things.”

“Like what?” Rob asked.

“Just a couple of days ago, they captured an old army truck and killed the two soldiers driving it. Before he died, one of the soldiers revealed that the military was making its way up here to restore order. It’s taken a while, but it’s happening all over the country.”

Phelps cut in. “Arthur said that if that ever happens, he would see to it that everyone in town was dead.”

“How?” Rob asked. “By shooting them?”

“No,” Layish said. “He doesn’t have the manpower or ammunition for that. He’s going to poison the food supply. He’s calling it The Last Meal. Then he plans to flee. Him and all his men. Just like Jim Jones, leader of the Peoples Temple, and the mass Kool-Aid killings in Guyana.

“The difference,” said Rob, “is that most of those people drank it willingly.”

Phelps tapped Layish on the arm and signaled to the door. Layish perked up, stepped away from Rob, and began speaking loudly again. “So, Mr. Parker. You’re in good health. Just make sure you dress warm out there. You don’t want to catch cold!”

“We don’t know when he plans to do it,” Phelps said quietly. “But if the military come outside those walls, that’s what’s going to happen.”

“Just tell the people what he plans to do,” Rob said.

“I told you,” Phelps said. “He has spies everywhere. Dr. Layish and I have played along far enough. We need to put an end to it.”

“Why are you telling me this? What do you want me to do?” Rob said.

“We’ve both talked secretly of killing him. But we can’t do it. I-I’m a man of God. Dr. Layish, well…”

“You want me to do it?”

Phelps reached into his suit coat and pulled out a switchblade.

“We just need you to get close enough to make it happen.”

“So I think our work is done here, Pastor,” Layish pronounced loudly. “Why don’t we give Rob some time to rest? Big day tomorrow.”

Phelps leaned in close to Rob’s ear. “Tomorrow he’s going to perform another mock ceremony. He wants me to declare him a saint in front of the entire town. I don’t think I can go through with it.”

“I have a family,” Rob said. “A wife and two children. Killing him puts my life in danger, and we don’t even know each other. How can I even trust you?”

“Please,” Phelps said, holding the knife for Rob to take. “It has to be you. You can save these people.”

The outside bolt unlocked as the door creaked open. Phelps pushed the knife into Rob’s hesitant hand. “Please…” he said.

The bearded guard walked in just as Phelps backed away from Rob. “Trust in Arthur,” Phelps said, patting Rob on the shoulder. “Together we can get this community through the winter and beyond.”  

The guard watched them suspiciously as Rob slipped the knife into his pocket. “Five minutes are up. Let’s go.”

“Of course,” Layish said, turning to Rob. “Be well, Mr. Parker.” He walked to the door just as Phelps gave Rob one last urgent glance.

“Good day, Mr. Parker,” he said, leaving the room.

The guard remained for a moment and shook his head at Rob. “Like a bunch of snakes in the grass. Arthur will wise up soon and put bullets in your heads. Outsiders.”

Rob said nothing as the guard turned and left. The door swung shut, and Rob slid back down the wall onto the mattress as the bolt slammed home. The cold steel of the switchblade protruded from his pocket. His mind raced with options, and he wasn’t sure what to think of any of it.

What have I gotten myself into now?