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  SURVIVE THE LAWLESS

  A Powerless World Book Two

  Jack Hunt

  Direct Response Publishing

  Copyright © 2021 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.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to an online retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  SURVIVE THE LAWLESS: A Powerless World Book Two 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

  Contents

  Also by Jack Hunt

  Prologue

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  A Plea

  Readers Team

  About the Author

  Also by Jack Hunt

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  A Powerless World series

  Escape the Breakdown

  Survive the Lawless

  Book #3 coming in March 2021

  Outlaws of the Midwest series

  Chaos Erupts

  Panic Ensues

  Havoc Endures

  The Cyber Apocalypse series

  As Our World Ends

  As Our World Falls

  As Our World Burns

  The Agora Virus series

  Phobia

  Anxiety

  Strain

  The War Buds series

  War Buds 1

  War Buds 2

  War Buds 3

  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

  The Wild Ones Duology

  The Wild Ones Book 1

  The Wild Ones Book 2

  The EMP Survival series

  Days of Panic

  Days of Chaos

  Days of Danger

  Days of Terror

  Against All Odds Duology

  As We Fall

  As We Break

  The Amygdala Syndrome Duology

  Unstable

  Unhinged

  Survival Rules series

  Rules of Survival

  Rules of Conflict

  Rules of Darkness

  Rules of Engagement

  Lone Survivor series

  All That Remains

  All That Survives

  All That Escapes

  All That Rises

  Mavericks series

  Mavericks: Hunters Moon

  Time Agents series

  Killing Time

  Single Novels

  Blackout

  Defiant

  Darkest Hour

  Final Impact

  The Year Without Summer

  The Last Storm

  The Last Magician

  The Lookout

  Class of 1989

  Out of the Wild

  Prologue

  Merced County, California

  Gilbert Sanchez was ready to kill the day they released him from jail. Trudging west down Sandy Mush Road, he glanced back at John Latorraca Correctional Facility, thinking any minute now they would realize they’d made a mistake.

  But they hadn’t.

  He’d been one hundred and fifty-two days into his sentence when the power went out. It had happened before. He didn’t think anything of it until they were forced back into the cells, and the COs turned to manual operations because the backup generators weren’t working. Five days later, as conditions got worse, rumors began to swirl that it was related to the pandemic, and that’s why he’d believed them when a guard showed up at his cell to escort him out.

  “Sanchez, you’re up.”

  “For what?”

  “Release.”

  “I still have twenty-eight days left.”

  “Yeah, well, consider this your lucky day. The pandemic is your winning lotto ticket. Come on,” Marko said. Gilberto’s cellmate slipped off his bunk bed, thinking he was getting out too.

  The guard pushed him back in. “Nope, not you. You’re staying here.”

  “Hell no! Why’s he being let out and not me?”

  “Because I’m better looking,” Sanchez said jokingly as the CO locked the door.

  His cellmate banged on the door as they walked away, rage getting the better of him. “This is not right. No power for five days. The food has taken a nosedive, and now you’re letting out criminals?” A criminal. The term still hadn’t sunk in, but that’s what he was in the eyes of the law. He’d made threats to shoot up the Gustine high school, and he might have followed through if it wasn’t for his friend Gareth opening his big mouth.

  He knew he shouldn’t have told him, but he figured he’d be on board and provide the firepower as his old man owned a gun store in town.

  “I don’t get it.”

  “You don’t need to,” Marko said. “Be grateful your name was pulled from the hat. If I had my way you’d be locked up for the next few years.”

  “But there must be a reason. Is it to do with the blackout?”

  “Yes and no.” He held a door open and ushered him through. He looked as if he was in a hurry. “The CDCR has been doing it since the outbreak. It’s meant to reduce population and maximize space. They think it will alleviate the impact on hospitals from those we would have had to transport there.”

  “So they’re letting me out?”

  “Crazy, isn’t it? I’d say look it up online but the internet is down.”

  The CDCR was the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation. They were the arm of the government responsible for the operation of state prisons and the parole system. He came to learn that it wasn’t just California inmates released, it was happening across the country, in every state, as the outbreak spread behind bars.

  “Okay, but why me?”

  “Well, you’re special, Sanchez. Haven’t you heard?”

  “Special?”

  Marko chuckled. “I’m pulling your chain, dickwad. No one cares about you.”

  “So why then?”


  “Do I look like Google?” He opened another heavy door. “If you must know, the CDCR is only expediting the release of inmates who have non-violent offenses, who aren’t sex offenders and have sixty days or less to serve. You fit the bill.”

  Non-violent? He had violent intentions, was that not enough?

  “And before you ask. Yes. I think they made a mistake. I don’t like the idea of sending you out on the street any more than the next guy, but obviously, intent for violence isn’t the same as what some of these guys have done. So they’re letting you go.”

  “Well, slap my ass and call me Norman,” he said. “I won’t argue with that.”

  “I didn’t think you would.”

  Gilbert got a spring in his step as he began to think of all the things he would do as a free man. The food he’d consume. The women he’d have sex with, and more important — those he planned on visiting.

  “And this blackout? What’s the deal with that?”

  They’d been very vague about it. Some in the prison had said the power grid was down, others were saying it was done by the warden to make their life a living hell. They still hadn’t gotten an official word from the COs.

  “God, you ask a lot of questions.”

  “Well, don’t I deserve answers?”

  Marko stopped and pushed him up against the wall, his eyes narrowing as he spoke through gritted teeth. “My kid was at that school. The only thing you deserve, Sanchez, is to do more time… but I’m sure we’ll see you again.”

  “I wouldn’t bank on it!”

  He scowled at Gilbert and they continued.

  Led through a series of corridors and heavy metal doors, Gilbert was taken down to the main foyer to collect his civilian clothes. He was greeted by the sight of ten cons, others just like him. Some he knew, some he didn’t. There were two he recognized. Brock Fernsby and a black guy named Deshawn Cyrus.

  “Well damn, if it isn’t Sanchez,” Brock said. “Seems we all lucked out.”

  Gilbert was confused. “Why are they letting you out? The CO said they were only focused on nonviolent offenders.”

  “Got a medical condition.”

  Sanchez frowned. “Dare I ask?”

  “Not if you don’t want to get shanked.” Brock laughed. He had been convicted for carjacking, kidnapping, and murder. He’d already served eighteen years in prison. “How did the governor word it, Cyrus?”

  “You had exceptional conduct.”

  “Exceptional?” Sanchez asked. He laughed, thinking back to the guy shanked in the showers. It got blamed on the wrong guy. They didn’t think it was Brock because he was mentoring younger inmates and already being lauded by the administration as a model inmate.

  “Yep, I knew those hours would pay off in the end.” He laughed. “Rehabilitated, I am, just like the thousands of other inmates that are being released. That and I’ve been deemed as high risk because of my medical condition. It could make me vulnerable to the pandemic.”

  “Yeah, you keep on telling yourself that,” Marko said, walking back into the room to hand Gilbert a plastic bag full of clothes. Clothes he hadn’t seen in months.

  “Oh, don’t be a sore loser. Just think, Marko. You no longer have to put up with our crap,” Cyrus said.

  “Lucky me,” he replied before leaving through one of the steel doors. As Gilbert stared at his old clothes he couldn’t believe they were letting this guy go. Brock had been given 72 years to life for killing a woman.

  “Yeah, it seems that those who’ve already served a lengthy sentence and pose a low risk and are vulnerable to what is going on out there are being considered. I’m just glad they thought of me,” he said, tying up his scuffed old boots. He had short ginger hair that was cut in a way that made him look like he’d just gotten out of the military. Tight at the sides. Tidy. He was the kind of man that was found doing push-ups in his cell at all hours of the day. He wore glasses not because he needed them but because he said it made him look intelligent, trustworthy, mature. The fact was he was a con in every sense of the word. A complete con artist. Brock, at thirty-six, was twice the age of Gilbert, a local from the same town as him. He didn’t know him when he arrived but he’d taken him under his wing like many of the others, offered them protection, not for money, not for sexual favors, but so it would help him at a time like this.

  “And what about you?” Gilbert asked Cyrus. “You got a medical condition?”

  “Yeah, I’m allergic to this place.”

  Brock burst out laughing and fist-pumped him. Like Gilbert, Deshawn Cyrus was close to being released after four years inside for assault with a deadly weapon. He came to learn that he’d recently been diagnosed with diabetes, how much truth was in that, and how much he’d paid someone to sign off on it was unknown. Deshawn was in his early forties, a resident of Merced, a city twenty minutes north of the facility.

  Gilbert eyed the others. “You both have a ride?”

  “A ride? Best of luck with that. Jameson over there said he talked to a few guys who were brought in on the day the power went out. They told him that transportation isn’t working. All the cars are fried. Something to do with a nationwide event.”

  “Five days ago?”

  “You got it!” He stabbed his finger in his direction.

  Gilbert said, “Yeah, the CO told me the internet is down. What about phones?”

  “That’s down too,” Brock said as he shrugged into his jacket.

  Phones. Transportation. Internet. Could this get any better? “That’s perfect,” he muttered.

  Both of them looked at him like he was insane. “Perfect?”

  He waved them off, his mind distracted by what he could imagine the town of Gustine was going through. Five days, no power, no communication, no transportation. “That means no cameras, no cops.”

  “Oh there’s cops,” Deshawn said. “There’s always cops.”

  “Not in Gustine. They barely have enough staff as it is.”

  Brock walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder while he wriggled on his socks. He leaned in close. “You trying to get sent back here?”

  “That would require transportation.”

  He stared at him then burst out laughing. Gilbert stripped out of the old prison uniform, and got back into his black jeans, then pulled an AC/DC T-shirt over his head. He followed up by sliding his arms into a green army jacket he’d picked up from some thrift store. He checked his wallet and found it was light by about forty bucks. “Damn those COs. And they call us criminals?”

  “Probably bought beers with it,” Brock said, chuckling as he sat down and took out a cigarette.

  “Wait until you’re outside,” a loud, brash CO said from behind strong plexiglass.

  “Ah, keep your pants on. I was just seeing how it felt in my lips,” Brock said. He sucked on it, eager to light it. Gilbert collected a chain with a pentagram medallion and placed it around his neck. “You were into some dark shit, weren’t you, Sanchez?”

  He only responded with a smile, thinking back to the times he would spend in the woods, killing small rodents. He’d strip down and cover himself in their blood, believing it imbued him with some supernatural power. If he’d only had a chance to go through that high school, he would have put a few teachers and students in their place. Maybe now he’d get a chance to go through with it.

  Five minutes later, Marko returned, ready to escort them out of the building and down to the gates.

  It felt good to be outside, smelling the morning air. “You know these other guys?” Gilbert asked.

  “Six of them,” Brock replied as they walked in front of Marko. “A couple are from Gustine, a few from other towns in the area. One of them says they know a guy who’s making waves in the town.”

  “Who?”

  “Bill Manning. Otherwise known as Spider.”

  Sanchez nodded. “So you got family to return to?”

  “Me? No. My family died a long while ago, kid.”

  “What abou
t you, Deshawn?”

  “A brother but he’s in San Francisco.”

  “So what are your plans?”

  “To get laid, drink, and enjoy my freedom,” Brock said, slapping DeShawn’s back. “How’s that sound?”

  “Good to me. Maybe I’ll hook up with this Spider fella. See what his deal is.”

  As Gilbert got closer to the gate, the cogs of his mind turned over. He’d always had big ideas but few people to share them with, and those he had, had turned on him. But these guys were different. They didn’t sit in judgment of him. They were cut from the same cloth. They knew that to get what you wanted you had to take it. To get things done you had to take extreme measures. They were not afraid of a little blood nor did they shy from taking risks. In many ways, in his short stint in the facility, he’d found his tribe, the people he belonged to, those who understood even if they did think he was a little strange.

  As the gates were opened by guards, Marko gave them their marching orders. “I look forward to seeing you gentlemen back here, real soon, especially you, Sanchez.”

  Gilbert turned and threw up the bird at him as soon as he was outside. “Not before I see you. Hey, maybe I’ll visit you. You still live on Fairview Avenue, right?”

  Marko sneered. “You little fuck!”

  Gilbert laughed as he walked away. The truth was he could drop by his family home if he wanted to and pay him back for that beating he’d given him inside, but he’d save that treat for later. He needed to assess the situation. See what was what in town. Find this Spider fella. But before then, there were others he needed to visit first, one in particular, the one who’d been the sole reason he was inside.

  ONE