Survive the Chaos (Small Town EMP Book 1) Page 7

  “Wow,” Malachi said, the single word summing up what they found.

  The cupboards were all hanging open. There was a bag of rice spilled on the floor, various spices canisters and boxes tossed about, and the refrigerator door left wide open, as well. A funky smell was already starting to develop. The kitchen had been ransacked.

  “I guess whoever killed him wanted his food,” Savannah said, shaking her head.

  “And carried it off on his horses.” Malachi walked to the refrigerator and closed the door as if that would make it all better. Savannah turned around, taking in the sight of the mess and wondering what would have made someone act so horribly.

  “Mal?” they heard Jim call out.

  “In here!” he replied.

  His parents appeared in the kitchen a minute later, their faces revealing their own shock at the scene before them. Tonya’s mouth opened to form words, but then she closed it without speaking, her eyes wide as she surveyed the damage, as if it wasn’t real.

  “No way. We can’t, Jim!” Tonya exclaimed.

  Jim reached out and put an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Shh, it’s okay. We’ll be fine. It’s the right thing to do.”

  “What’s going on?” Malachi asked.

  “We’ve talked about it, and we’ll stick around for a day or two and wait for Savannah’s father to get back. If he doesn’t show up, we’ll have to leave. We can’t stay here, especially after seeing this,” he said, waving an arm to encompass the kitchen.

  Happy for the short reprieve, Savannah smiled in thanks. She just knew her father would be back sometime that day, even if he had to walk from wherever it was he’d gone to. He couldn’t be all that far, and she knew her dad was tough. He would fight back if anyone tried to hurt him. She refused to believe anyone would shoot her father like they had the farmer. No way. There was no way this world would leave her without any parents. Plus, nobody would have reason to hurt him—all he had on him worth stealing would be his truck, and that was no good at the moment if things around town were any sign to judge by.

  “Thank you,” she said sincerely, focusing on Malachi’s mother since she knew Tonya was against the decision.

  The woman nodded, but it was her husband who answered. “Savannah, I’m willing to put my faith in God to keep us safe. I know how important it is to stay with family, especially in times of crisis. We’ll offer you our company for two days,” he said firmly.

  “Okay. I’m sure he’ll be back today, any minute now.”

  Jim looked her directly in the eye. “This is a dangerous place. My family is in no position to hang around here. We aren’t violent people. We don’t know how to defend ourselves and, honestly, I don’t believe I would ever be able to raise my hand against another human. I need to do what’s best for my family. We’ll stay for two days, max. If your father doesn’t return, you can come with us,” he said, as if that were her only option.

  Savannah nodded—not agreeing with him, but not openly arguing with him. “I understand. I appreciate you staying.” She would smile and pretend to go along with whatever Malachi’s parents said for now.

  “Why don’t we clean this up?” Tonya suggested, clapping her hands together.

  “Clean it up?” Savannah repeated.

  “Well, I can’t function in a messy kitchen. Jim, you and Mal go help take care of the farmer. He deserves a proper burial. We’ll have a small service for him later.”

  There was a new note of matriarchal determination in the woman’s voice now, and Savannah was a little surprised by her take-charge attitude. In the brief time she had known Tonya Loveridge, she’d been meek, leaving all the decisions to her husband. Even five minutes ago, she had appeared to be shaken to her very core. This was a complete change in her personality. Savannah could actually admire this new woman standing in front of her and doling out orders like a drill sergeant.

  Jim looked proud, as well. “We’ll do that,” he said before giving his wife a quick kiss on the cheek.

  Malachi waved before they walked out of the kitchen. Savannah watched them leave, wishing Malachi could have stayed to help; being alone with his mother felt awkward, at best.

  She turned to look around the kitchen once again, watching as Tonya closed cupboard doors and then disappeared into the dining room. She returned a few minutes later with a broom and a dustpan, smiling as she came back into the kitchen. For her part, Savannah began picking up items that had been scattered on the floor, setting them on the counter to be washed or put away. Cleaning the kitchen seemed like the least important problem in her opinion, but she didn’t want to do anything to irritate the Loveridges. She did not want to be left alone.

  7

  Austin’s eyes felt like sandpaper had been rubbed over them. He blinked several times, trying to orientate himself to his surroundings. It was the throbbing in his leg that brought it all back in a painful flash.

  “Savannah,” he mumbled, moving a hand to his face, rubbing the beard stubble and then his eyes.

  Finally, he opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling of Amanda’s living room. He was on the couch, his broken leg piled high on several pillows. He looked down his body, covered with a blanket, and could see his toes peeking out. He didn’t dare try to wiggle them. He’d done that once and paid a hefty price. Simply enough, he was stuck. Helpless. He couldn’t walk out of the house and get to his daughter. Not even if he tried.

  “Hey.”

  Amanda’s scratchy voice had come from behind him, and he shifted to look for her. “What time is it?” he asked.

  She laughed, the emotion behind it genuine. “I have no idea. I would guess around eight or nine, maybe. How’s the leg?”

  “It’s fine. I need to get out of here, Amanda. I didn’t mean to sleep so late,” he groaned.

  “I’ll get you another pain pill and some antibiotics. You’ll need to take them with food. I’ll see what I can throw together,” she said, yawning.

  He watched her fold a blanket and put it on the coffee table next to the couch. “Did you sleep out here?” he asked her.

  “Yep. I slept in the recliner just in case you started running a fever or got some wild idea to try and walk out of here,” she said, stretching her back.

  “Thank you,” he said, wishing again that he didn’t need this kind woman’s help.

  “Of course. Sit tight and I’ll be back in a second.”

  Austin closed his eyes, breathing through a fresh wave of pain. He knew from experience that it was the second day of an injury that was always the worst. But he’d broken enough bones to also know that the pain was temporary. He could get through it.

  He heard a knock on the front door then, and his eyes popped open as he involuntary stiffened, pulling the tender bruised muscles in his broken leg. With his position on the couch, he was blind to seeing much of anything. He could see the top half of the front door over the back of the couch, but little else. He felt completely exposed under this blanket in only his underwear, unable to walk. He needed his clothes. Suddenly, he remembered the drive Callum had given him. He wondered if it was still in his pocket, and if so, if it had been ruined by his impromptu swim. The case had looked waterproof, but there was no way to tell for sure without testing the thing. How to do that was something else entirely.

  Interrupting his thoughts, Amanda walked through to the door. “Who is it?” she called out without opening it.

  That was smart, Austin thought, but if anyone on the other side wanted in, the door wasn’t going to do much good stopping them.

  “It’s Daniel Carver! I’ve got a heifer trying to calve and it isn’t going well! Can you come help?” he hollered through the door.

  Austin waited to hear what Amanda would do. He sat up on his elbows, peering over the couch, and watched her open the door, propping a long .22 rifle behind it. He smiled. She was very smart.

  “Daniel, hey there,” she greeted the man she obviously knew. “Do you have phone service?” She popped he
r head outside. “Did you drive over here?”

  A tall, lanky man wearing Wranglers, a button-up plaid, and a white cowboy hat stepped through the door when Amanda stepped back inside. Austin didn’t have to see his feet to know he’d be wearing boots. The guy was a legit cowboy. He pulled off his hat, revealing a full head of brown hair that was a little too long, a ring around his head from where the hat had been sitting.

  “My truck is toast,” he said, nodding to Austin now that he saw him. “I don’t know what happened. I rode my horse over here. My phone doesn’t work, either, or I would have called you. I’m real sorry to barge in here like this, but she’s been laboring all night. I waited as long as I could, but I would really appreciate your help,” he pleaded.

  Amanda looked at Austin, then back at her friend. “Sure. Let me grab my things and change. You go ahead and I’ll be right behind you.”

  “You gonna drive over?” he asked.

  “The battery in my truck died and I haven’t had a chance to do anything about it.”

  Daniel nodded at her, and then glanced over at Austin one last time before walking out the door. Austin had a feeling there was a little jealousy happening there. Daniel was probably in his forties, and Austin hadn’t noticed a ring on his finger. He probably had the hots for the pretty vet and didn’t appreciate finding a man on her couch.

  Amanda closed the door behind him and then looked to Austin as if to judge what Daniel would have seen or guessed was going on. With a chuckle, she shrugged before disappearing back into the kitchen. She came back a minute later with a can of Sprite and a bowl.

  “Are you sure it’s safe for you to go?” he asked.

  She raised an eyebrow at him. “I’ve known Daniel most of my life. He’s a good guy, and I can take care of myself anyway. As for you? Here’s a bowl of Raisin Bran minus the milk and a warm Sprite to wash down the meds. I know it isn’t gourmet, but it will put something in your stomach.”

  He moved to sit up a little more even as Amanda sprang into action, piling pillows behind him to prop him up. “Thank you, seriously, I cannot tell you how glad I am it was you who pulled me out of that water.”

  She grinned. “You did need a vet, that’s for sure. Now, eat and take your meds; I need to change and get over to Daniel’s.”

  Austin used the spoon to take a bite of the dry cereal. He nearly choked on the dry bran flakes. The can of warm soda barely helped wash down the cereal, and then he popped the pills in his mouth and took another drink.

  “Are my clothes nearby?” he called out, not sure where she was in the house.

  “I’ll grab them. I hung them out to dry last night—hopefully, they’ve had a chance,” she called out in response, her voice muffled.

  Amanda came into view a few minutes later. “I’m going to leave my rifle next to you, just in case. Here’s your clothes. The jeans are still a little damp.”

  “Great,” he mumbled, eyeing the rifle and knowing he could do little to fend off an attacker in his current condition.

  “I’ll be as fast as I can. Daniel is capable. Once I deliver the calf, I’ll be back,” she told him.

  He looked at the brown duffel bag she was carrying, with Amanda Patterson displayed in gold lettering on the side. “Be safe,” he said, hoping it wasn’t the last time he saw her.

  What else could he do but wait, though? He truly was at her mercy, something he didn’t like in the least. He had never been helpless.

  “Trust me, calving is icky, but it isn’t dangerous,” she said with a smile.

  Austin finished the cereal only because he knew the pain meds required it, the roof of his mouth feeling a little abused by the crunchy flakes. Having set the bowl down, he then leaned back against the pillows and let his eyes roam around the room. The silence was mind-boggling. He’d been on the Little farm for a couple weeks with Savannah, but it had never been this quiet. Here, there was nothing to break up the monotony of silence. No train whistles or rumbles of a diesel engine in the distance. He couldn’t hear planes or anything overhead. It was dead silent. It was as if the wildlife that was normally out and about didn’t want to disturb the quiet. He strained his ears, listening for the sound of a bird call, and still heard nothing.

  It was too weird, too strange, and being alone and unable to move stirred up a little panic deep in his gut. Out of nowhere, he heard the screech of a hawk. Relief washed over him. For a brief moment, he’d been worried they were dealing with something much more sinister than an EMP.

  “Okay, everything is still normal, minus electricity,” he assured himself.

  He relaxed for a few moments, but then realized he was facing another problem that was far more pressing than the lack of bird calls outside.

  “Seriously?” he groaned, reaching for the crutches that were lying on the ground next to the Remington .22.

  He had to pee. Having been on the couch for a good twelve hours, of course, he needed the bathroom. He was actually a little glad Amanda wasn’t around now. She would have insisted on helping him, and that was the last thing he wanted help with from a complete stranger. Let alone a pretty female stranger. He threw off the blanket, only then remembering he was essentially naked. He debated on struggling with the jeans or taking the chance that he was well and truly alone and going outside in only his boxers. It would certainly make what he needed to do a lot easier.

  Boxers it was. He had to go, after all, and knew it would be a long process to get his jeans on, especially considering they were still damp. He gently moved his wrapped leg, wincing with pain as he lifted it, turning his body at the same time and carefully putting it down. He grabbed one crutch, standing it in front of him while using his right arm to push himself off the couch.

  “Dammit,” he growled as the pain washed over him.

  He managed to get to a standing position, though his leg felt like a lead ball hanging from his thigh. There would be no water, so using the toilet would be pointless. He was going to have to go outside. He vaguely remembered the covered porch he’d had to climb to get into the house.

  “Screw that,” he mumbled. He was not going down those stairs. He’d pee off the end of the porch. Desperate times called for desperate measures and a shelving of proper etiquette. There was no way he could go in search of a tree.

  Just getting out the door was painful enough, but he hobbled along to the end of the porch facing away from the driveway and the swollen stream beyond it. As he relieved himself, he scanned the area. The burnt out remains of Amanda’s barn were on his left, pasture beyond it. Directly in front of him, he could see what looked like corn growing about a foot high, moving in the slight breeze washing over the farm.

  The air was already warm, and he could smell the charcoal and hint of smoke lingering in the air as the breeze kicked up. He used the crutches to walk back to the opposite end of the covered porch and saw her Ford 250 sitting in the driveway. He smiled, thinking they were kindred spirits with matching rigs, his just a little newer and shinier.

  He scanned the area before heading back inside. His body was stiff and sore. He knew that, without the pain meds she’d given him, he’d have been in far more pain. It was his good fortune that had brought her to his rescue. Now, he just needed a little more good luck to leave and find his daughter.

  Seeing the barn’s remains had given him an idea, though. They couldn’t drive off, and he was in no shape to walk forty miles on crutches, but surely, he could ride a horse. When Amanda got back, he was going to ask her to borrow one. He’d find a way to pay her or return the horse once things returned to normal. Fumbling his way back inside, he tried not to think about the fact that ‘normal’ could be a long way away.

  Austin sat on the couch as carefully as he could, propping his leg back up and relaxing against the pillows. He was sweating with the exertion it had taken to go pee. That didn’t bode well for his grand plans to ride a horse forty miles back to his trailer. Maybe tomorrow, things would look brighter. For now, he’d have to
trust Bob Little to look out for his daughter. With that depressing thought, Austin tossed the blanket over his thighs, leaving his bare chest and lower legs exposed before closing his eyes and trying to breathe through the pain that was racking his body. He could feel the drowsiness growing with every passing second now, and welcomed the idea of sleeping through the pain. Soon, he felt himself drifting off, and didn’t fight the urge to close his eyes.

  “What the hell?” he snapped, jerking awake at the sound of a loud crash.

  He jerked up to a seated position, only remembering he wasn’t in good shape after his leg fell off the pillow. He cursed out loud, nearly biting his tongue; it felt like he’d broken the bone all over again.

  He didn’t have time to worry about the pain, though. Someone was in the house, and he was only lucky he’d cursed quietly instead of screamed outright. He gingerly rolled off the couch with the help of one crutch, finding the rifle and quickly checking to see if it was loaded. One bullet was not going to do him a lot of good, he thought angrily. What good was a gun with a single bullet?

  Whoever was in the house was in the back room. They must not have seen him lying on the couch, and he had been hopped up on painkillers and not heard a thing until they’d gotten careless and loud with whatever they were doing.

  “It’s in that cabinet,” a male voice called out.

  More than one person in the house, then, which meant he absolutely needed more than a single bullet. A gun cabinet with a glass door was against the wall nearby, and he could see a shotgun and what looked to be another long rifle in the rack. He hated gun cabinets with glass doors—they were completely ineffective for actually keeping the guns safe, but in this case, it was a godsend. Not wasting another second, he pulled himself over to the cabinet, hoping there were some cartridges stored there.

  The gun cabinet was locked, of course. He looked around and saw a framed picture of an older couple sitting on an end table. He grabbed it and did his best to shatter the glass as quietly as possible, using a nearby afghan to muffle the sound. He could hear the men in the other room, knocking things over and talking to one another. He was praying they were too loud to hear him.