Free Grid Down: A Strike against America – An EMP Survival Story- Book One by Roger Hayden

remained in their positions—across from each other and crouched behind cars. One had his rifle resting on the hood of a car and his eye at the end of the scope.
    Rob cupped his hands over his mouth and called to Mila. “Are you OK?”
    “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said from under the truck.
    “Listen,” he said, “we can’t stall much longer. When I fire, everyone get in the truck. Tell Carlos and Brad to lie down, flat as they can.”
    Mila pushed herself backwards and scraped against the pavement. Another shot rang out and hit the driver’s-side mirror. It split into two chunks that flew to the ground in pieces. The men were getting more brazen and advancing closer by the minute.
    “Why are they shooting at us?” Brad said.
    Peter moaned in agony while wrapping his hand with the bottom of his shirt.
    “I can see them,” Carlos said as he glanced around the rear of the truck. “There’s two of them. They got rifles.”
    From the ground, Mila reached out and grabbed Peter’s tote bag. She pulled it under the truck and continued her awkward low crawl to the tailgate, where she met the others—all crouched down and waiting. “Here,” she said, handing Brad the bag. She then looked at Peter. “Let me take a look at your hand.”
    He exposed it with hesitation and winced when she touched it. Glass bits were embedded all over his hand. Blood flowed from all the tiny wounds into a thick pool on the ground. “I can’t treat this here. We’ve got to get you back to camp.”
    Peter’s face was pale. He nodded deliriously.
    “Listen,” Mila said to the group. “Rob’s going to lay down some cover fire, and when he does, that’s our signal to get into the truck. Carlos and Brad, you guys need to stay down.”
    They nodded in agreement. Rob put his head just inches above the dashboard to look out. The men had advanced two cars closer with their rifles poised and ready.
    “Howdy, strangers!” the man on the left bellowed. “How about you step away from the truck with your hands up. We promise we won’t hurt ya.”
    Both men looked at each other and exchanged a laugh. Rob saw his chance. He raised his pistol above the dashboard and fired several shots in rapid succession, hitting tires, windows, and anything in range.
    The men flew to the ground, surprised. Rob turned the ignition switch, and the engine roared back to life. He heard two thuds as the truck shook from the back of the pickup. Carlos and Brad were in, flat on their stomachs. Mila came running to the passenger side with her arm around Peter. She pushed him inside, jumped next to him, and slammed the door shut. “Go!”
    The hunters jumped up once they heard the engine. Rob shifted the steering wheel lever to Drive and gave it some gas. Their tires squealed, and smoke rose from the tarmac-black skid marks left in their wake.
    “Oh no,” Rob said as the hunters emerged with their rifles pointed. They were mere feet away and ready to unload. Mila rose and saw the men take aim. She held her pistol out and fired at the man on her side. The shots tore through his shoulder and knocked him to the ground.
    Shocked and livid, his partner jumped out in front of their path and fired a series of shots through the hood, dashboard, and windshield. As more glass fell, Rob plowed through the man and threw him to the side in a contorted heap.
    The man’s shoes flew into the air. Mila screamed. Peter clutched his hand in pain. Rob then took a sharp right out of the parking lot and drove off just as he saw the other man crawl out with his camouflage jacket drenched in blood. He went to his unconscious partner, raised a fist in the air, and screamed out in vengeance. For now, they had escaped.

Supply and Demand
     
     
    It was ration day at Tartarus. A day that all residents—servers and prisoners alike—looked forward to with heightened anticipation. Arthur Jenkins’s control over the town wasn’t by force alone. He and his men had set up a distribution