Lone Survivor (Book 2): All That Survives Read online

  As they would be hiking roughly sixteen miles a day with a few twenty to twenty-five mile days, he knew it was better to wait a little longer than find himself unable to make the journey that would take at least three months to complete based on their current location.

  Three months. He couldn’t believe it would take that long before he could see his family. A lot of shit could happen on the trail, but he had to put that out of his mind. It was too overwhelming.

  First step. Reach Damascus.

  But it wasn’t far from there that the problems began.

  With over fifty miles to cover, and roughly nineteen hours until reaching their first stop in the small town of Damascus, Virginia, Landon had already worked up a sweat that drenched his shirt. Twenty pounds didn’t seem like a lot when he saw it on the ground but after strapping it on his backpack and walking just an hour, his heart was pounding and his thighs burned.

  He dug the walking sticks into the spring earth, remembering that their goal was to walk at least sixteen miles a day. Sixteen? He was ready to give up after just eight miles. Beth took the lead scanning for threats with Grizzly at the rear. She’d already warned him that it wasn’t going to be easy. It wasn’t just a simple straight path to Maine. No, the Appalachian mountain range had some of the most grueling terrain in the USA. They would traverse well-worn trails that curved wildly, over rocks, up and down mountains, through valleys and across fields and roads. The path known to many as the green tunnel due to the tree cover most of the way wasn’t for the faint of heart. Many who embarked each year never finished, and those hikers weren’t facing the horrors of a nation without power. There was no way of knowing what they would encounter, but hell or high water, Landon was going to complete the journey.

  In order to join the trail in Damascus, the initial chunk of their trip involved trudging through the Cherokee National Forest, crossing over into Tennessee and going through a few tiny communities like Beech Creek, Neva, Mountain City and Laurel Bloomery.

  It was in those first few hours they encountered the first hurdle just on the outskirts of Beech Creek.

  “Look at those bastards. Everyone wants to take what another has,” Landon whispered. “We should help them.”

  Beth shook her head. “There will be a lot of people out here like this. We can’t help everyone. No, we’ll go around.”

  She was dressed in tight faded jeans, a warm navy blue hooded winter coat and a beanie hat pulled down over her long blond hair. Both of them wore layers as temperatures would vary from day to day and they needed to be able to adapt to the ever-changing weather conditions. Rain, heat, wind, snow, it was all so unpredictable. What they wore could either be their enemy or savior from blistering heat or chilly nights. He was wearing Buff Headwear, a long-sleeve compression shirt, hiking pants and trail runners.

  Beth was prone and staring through the scope on a Howa Mini Action .300 BLK. That damn thing only weighed 6 pounds and had enough punch to drop a deer from 200 yards out.

  Beth was different from Ellie in so many ways. Ellie was confident but a real girls’ girl. At only eighteen, Beth was mature beyond her years, carrying herself with the confidence of someone who’d lived thirty years.

  They’d taken the rifle off one of Cayden’s guys after the assault. He’d had a hard time believing she’d taken out all four but when she explained it, it seemed to make sense. Rhett had done a fine job of raising her to be self-reliant, confident and situationally aware. A week after the assault, Landon had asked her if she wanted to talk about it. She’d been quiet but he’d come to realize that was just her. She wasn’t loud or brash, seeking attention like some young girls or boasting about what she knew about survival. There was a depth to her that he’d only just begun to see.

  Beth popped up from a prone position, ready to leave. Landon followed but the cries of a young girl reached him and he couldn’t bring himself to walk away. “Just let me take a look,” he said.

  “Landon. You want to reach Maine. We’ve got a lot of miles to cover. We can’t just stop every day for someone who’s caught up in some unfortunate situation.”

  “No? Is that what you thought when you saw the plane come down?”

  “That was different.”

  “Just let me take a look.”

  She groaned and handed him a pair of compact binoculars. He peered through and scanned. “There’s three of them,” he said. “They’ve dragged the mother and father outside, and now they’ve got a girl.” He glanced up at Beth. “She can’t be older than eight.” It was strange to think he needed her permission to help as he was older than her. Had it been Ellie he would have made the call but he trusted Beth’s expertise. Heck, she’d kept him alive this long. He looked back through the binos. The three dirty men looked like they hadn’t taken a bath in months. Their faces were covered in dirt, and their clothes ratty as if they’d torn them in the brush.

  Landon was hidden by the thick foliage and trees that hedged in the road they were traveling on. It was a rural area with homes spread out along a large double-lane road that cut through the heart of the town. Many of the homes had been ransacked or burnt to the ground. Broken windows, and furniture dragged out onto lawns near the dead, revealed the sign of the times.

  With enough supplies for the next four days they didn’t bother venturing into homes. There was no need, at least not yet. Besides, walking into one with a scared family could mean eating lead for supper. No, they needed to remain calm, cautious and avoid trouble.

  Except trouble was everywhere.

  After a gunshot, they’d heard cries and taken cover. Avoidance was the best tactic, not being a hero, but there were only three of them. A clean shot from Beth, and he figured he could take one out. The other one would likely turn and run. With the coverage of trees, the assailants wouldn’t even know where they were. In his mind the risk factor was low. He shared his idea.

  “Beth, we can walk on but who knows what they’ll do.”

  Beth sighed and ran a hand over her face.

  A bead of sweat formed on his brow and ran down his temple. He wiped it with the back of his arm and took another look while Beth did the same. “No. If that third one doesn’t bolt, they could still wind up dead. He could grab the kid and barricade himself in the house. Then what?”

  “So I take out the one closest to the kid. You know how this is going to end if we don’t intervene. Alternatively I can try to talk them down from the ledge,” he said with an amused smile knowing full well that they were far beyond that point. Negotiations were a thing of the past. The only thing people understood now was the bullet.

  “But you’d need to get closer. That shotgun won’t cut it from here.”

  He was carrying a Mossberg 500 courtesy of Cayden. He glanced at it.

  “Yeah,” she said. “What you see and what I see are two different things.”

  She was right. He hadn’t thought it through.

  “What if I draw one of them away?”

  She frowned. “You’ll only make the other two nervous — again not a good situation. No, we move on. It’s too risky.” She stared at him for a few seconds and he realized she was right. “Let’s go, Grizzly,” she said leading the way. Under his breath he apologized as if he was responsible for their well-being. Even as he looked back at the family and placed himself in their shoes, he knew they couldn’t help everyone if they wanted to make it back alive. Some might have called her decision callous but he knew that wasn’t her. Still, it didn’t help when they heard the distant echo of three rounds.

  It was a new world with new rules and not everyone would survive.

  2

  The world had gone to hell and he kind of liked it.

  Deputy Sam Daniels stood on the back porch of his home in Castine, Maine, smoking a cigarette and listening to the dinging of a buoy bell as it bobbed in the water. A bright sun pushed back the gray morning with a deep orange. Spread before him was Penobscot Bay, its frigid dark waters filled with boats as
fishing became the number one source of food.

  He glanced at his watch. Except for the few times he needed to go into the department, his cruiser was his mobile office. At any given time he could be patrolling one of ten communities spread out over 2,345 square miles. By now his shift would be in full swing with the Hancock County Sheriff’s Office but all that had changed in the blink of an eye.

  At first, they figured it was just another outage, some even laughed that someone had screwed up and hit the wrong switch, but when vehicles stopped working, and communication ended, things became drastic.

  Mobs took to the streets.

  Looting became rampant.

  Starvation killed several, and the rest struggled to hold it together.

  Now had it occurred in the middle of the summer, they could have continued providing service using bicycles, but with so much snow on the ground, they were left to patrol by foot and the few deputies that showed up for work soon tired of that. Within a month the Ellsworth department was reduced to a skeleton crew.

  Born and raised in Castine, he’d told Sheriff Wilson that Carl Madden and him would oversee the small town if only to give the residents a sense that someone was still trying to help. Of course it was a ridiculous task but what else was he supposed to do with his time? Sitting around watching boats might have been good once he retired but he still had a fire in his belly and this provided an opportunity to perform the kind of police work he signed up for, not the one that was hamstrung by a tainted justice system.

  While Hancock suffered from its fair share of crime, most of his time had been spent dealing with domestics and the odd theft. But since the blackout, crime had reached new levels. He knew people could be violent but this was another kettle of fish. At this stage he wasn’t concerned so much about looting as he was about protecting people’s lives. Four months since the blackout, there wasn’t anything left to loot except homes.

  Over the past few months, Sam had attended numerous town hall meetings that erupted into arguments. He’d seen people point fingers and accuse them of not doing enough but what did they expect? Manpower had been reduced to a handful across the county. They weren’t being paid. The department had no transportation and besides a few walkie-talkies there was no communication. Before, if someone was robbed in the middle of the night, a cop could be out there within ten minutes and they could block off roads and often find the culprit before they left the county, but now it was less about stopping crime than it was ensuring that whoever was involved was identified and taken off the streets.

  The two of them had tried to do that themselves but had found that it was too overwhelming. He’d been in talks with the town manager and suggested deputizing a few of the locals, people that had demonstrated they could be trusted. It was a tough call. That was where he was meant to be that morning. But first things first — he needed a cup of coffee, a quick shot of caffeine to kick start his day. Then he might feel ready to deal with the crap that was piling up. Forget paperwork, that was a thing of the past. The biggest challenge was determining who was at fault for crime.

  With the locals’ nerves on edge, many had turned to carrying handguns and weren’t afraid to use them, resulting in the death of several people. They were trespassing. I thought they were going to attack me. Under normal circumstances, evidence would be compiled, statements taken, lawyers would argue it out in court and a verdict would be reached. But now all they could go on was their word.

  That had been the case with Sara Gray.

  One of the first people in Castine to kill after the event.

  One of the first to come under scrutiny for her actions.

  Three dead; one beaten to death and two stabbed. It was a bloody mess, and when questioned all she had to say for herself was that she had no idea what they wanted. It was a hard pill to swallow. People didn’t attack without reason. At least not those who were sane. Sure, if they’d been drugged up that might have made sense but according to the local coroner, they were drug free. Had it not been for her boy and Jake Parish, or the fact that she was considered by many to be an upstanding citizen, or the fact that more murders and looting followed, she might have found herself in deep waters.

  Sam had tried to come up with some solution, some viable plan of action to deal with it but it was pointless. With every passing month it felt like they were taking twenty steps back in trying to keep the community safe. In the first few weeks they’d tried to get some of the locals on board with sharing supplies but that idea fell on deaf ears. No one was willing to give up what they had and yet in turn they then wondered why houses were being raided by desperate people.

  He breathed in deeply trying to enjoy this rare moment in his day. He knew he didn’t have to do anything; he could have joined everyone else and pointed a finger but where would that have got them? Besides, that wasn’t his way. No, he was only good at one thing and that was policing.

  Sam strolled back inside and retrieved a small Jetboil stove that he had for camping and used it to boil up some water. He fished out of the cupboard a pack of coffee and dumped a few spoonfuls into the French press. It was the small things he would miss. Coffee. Cigarettes. They were a luxury now.

  “Morning, sunshine,” a familiar voice bellowed

  He turned to find Carl standing in the doorway. He was clean shaven, with buzz cut ginger hair and a uniform that had lots of creases.

  Great. His timing was impeccable.

  “Perfect timing,” Carl said. “I’ll have a cup too. Hold the cream and sugar.”

  “Well that’s good because I ran out of sugar and cream a month ago.” He chuckled and took a seat in his rocking chair out on the porch. “How’s the barricade coming along?”

  They’d set up two barricades on State Highways 166 and 199, the two main arteries that ran into Castine. It was one of many ideas that were set into motion within the first three weeks of the outage, as looting was rampant and they wanted to catch anyone trying to leave with large amounts of food, and prevent those from outside of the area who had no business in town. It had worked for a while with the assistance of locals but motivation to help soon waned and the group of twenty-five that had been all full of beans to work together soon fell apart. At the last count, they had only six people.

  “Don’t you mean those who are supposed to be manning it?” Carl replied, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. He blew gray smoke out of his mouth and squinted as it went up into his eye.

  “They’re not there?” Sam asked, pausing as he lit the flame to boil the water.

  “No, word has it a number of people have left town on foot heading for Bangor. Can you believe that? What a total bunch of idiots.”

  Sam shrugged. “I don’t know, that’s where they say that FEMA camps are.”

  “Oh really?”

  “You didn’t hear about that?”

  “No, I was unable to squeeze that radio time in with patrol and all,” he said with a glint in his eye. Word had spread that America was under martial law and the government had set up refugee camps around large cities. They said it was meant to help but he had to wonder. They had yet to see the military roll into their neck of the woods and he didn’t expect it either. If their luck of holding on to employees was anything like the local misfortune, the US government was probably running on a skeleton crew as well.

  “So who’s manning the posts?”

  Carl crossed one leg over the other. “No one.” He said it like it didn’t matter, or he didn’t give a shit. “In fact I was thinking we should probably take the damn things down. I mean it’s not like there’s any food to protect anymore. The stores are empty. Besides what people have in their home, and what folks are bringing in by fishing, I can’t see anyone targeting this town. It’s too small, too insignificant.”

  He was right on it being small but insignificant? No. It was because it was small that it would become a target. Larger towns would have more to protect, and no doubt had formed factions that would stand a
gainst crime. But here, the lawless could run amok and there wasn’t much people could do about it.

  “No, let’s keep them up.”

  Carl threw up his hands. “Why?”

  “Because of the recent string of murders.”

  “C’mon, Sam, that was par for the course and you know it,”

  “It doesn’t mean we should settle for it. The way I see it, Carl, we are the last line of defense against whoever and whatever chooses to target this community.”

  Carl laughed. “Man, you make me laugh. You see, I’ve been thinking about that. How long has it been since we saw Wilson?”

  “A month and a half but he’s got his hands tied.”

  “Oh I bet he has, banging that woman he was having an affair with before the outage.”

  “Carl.”

  “It’s true. We all know it. Shit, Sam, we are the only ones dumb enough to still be at this. Davenport and Jenkins. Gone. That’s right. They’re no longer in Ellsworth. And think, who have we helped so far? Huh?”

  “Lots of people.”

  “Name one.”

  He was at a loss for words. Carl was once again right, and he hated that.

  “See! If we walked away, things would just continue the way they have. No, I say we kick back, take off the uniforms and ride this out on that boat of yours. You always were complaining you never got enough time to use it. Now’s the time before they figure out what caused this damn shitfest, and the lights come back on.”

  “And if they don’t?” Sam asked.

  “Don’t be so pessimistic.”

  “Pessimistic? Carl, it’s been months. Don’t you think if they could have done it, they would have by now?”

  “Please. We’re talking about our government. You’ve seen how they operate. It takes them years just to approve one thing in this country. They just need some time. And in the meantime, we take the opportunity to get some serious R and R because when the power comes back on, the boss will have us on back-to-back shifts.” Carl then glanced into the house and squinted. “What’s that?”