Free State of Panic: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller by Jack Hunt

blade through my skull. The very second the guy fell off, I reached around, pulled the knife and jammed it into his leg. He let out a high-pitched scream and staggered back. Meanwhile Edgar was still going nuts with his oversized wrench. I noticed he had been cut as he was bleeding from his side but it wasn’t stopping him. Reaching down to my leg, I pulled off the chain, wrapped it around my fist so a large piece dangled down and then unleashed it like a whip around the face of the guy who was climbing the stairs with a spiked knuckleduster.
    He let out a blood-curdling scream before Murphy came up behind him and slit his throat.
    We all stood there for a second gazing at the bloody aftermath. My hand was shaking.
    Now I don’t think we got lucky, we just wanted to live more than they did. As I looked around at the carnage, those that were still alive were groaning on the floor, writhing around in pain. Panting hard, I pulled the knife from the guy’s leg and he let out another cry. At least he wasn’t dead. I wasn’t sure I was ready to kill anyone.
    Murphy wiped a bloody knife on his leg.
    We grabbed up what weapons they were carrying and set off again.
    Front Street was on the far edge of town. We could hear the noise of people screaming along with laughter and chaos erupting in the streets. What little calm remained after the blackout was now gone. Anarchy was alive in the streets like a snake seeking to devour and destroy.
    “How much longer?” Edgar asked.
    “A few more blocks,” Murphy replied with a stoic look on his face. We were getting close to Third Street and Cypress when we saw another group. They had dragged out several people from an inn and were beating them. A woman pleaded for her husband’s life but they didn’t care. They were savages.
    I wanted to help but there were too many of them and Murphy told us to keep moving. We might have escaped death back at the library but the chance of being able to fend off another attack was unlikely, especially when there were only four us and at least fifteen of them.
    The journey to Murphy’s place was tough but it was only made harder by the constant stopping and starting. We had to drop down behind cars, and behind fences. All the while we had a front seat to the torture of human life. They were like a pack of rabid wolves encircling their prey and taking turns to inflict as much as harm as possible.
    In a town with a population of just over eight hundred, it wouldn’t be long before they would overtake and control the streets. It wasn’t even like the police could radio for help. This was a sudden and coordinated attack. Like a lion waiting in the undergrowth, just biding its time, waiting for the right moment to pounce.
    We eventually arrived at Murphy’s place. It wasn’t anything fancy. Just a small clapboard house set back from the road, shrouded by trees with a small gravel driveway that led up to a property that couldn’t have been more than fifteen hundred square foot.
    “Didn’t you come here first?” Luke asked.
    “No, I went straight to City Hall after collecting Sara from the hospital and picking up Ally and Matt.”
    As we made our way in, Luke carried on peppering him with questions. “So what’s the deal with him? When did your ex meet Matt?”
    “She’s not my ex. Well, she is but not on paper. We haven’t finalized the divorce.”
    “How long have you been separated?”
    He unlocked a metal cabinet inside his house and pulled out an M4 carbine, along with two AR-15s.
    “Here, hold this.”
    I stared down at it.
    “Isn’t that illegal?” Edgar asked.
    Murphy just rolled his eyes. He was obviously used to hearing all manner of questions about weapons and what was or wasn’t allowed in the country. He didn’t even bother to answer.
    “What kind of firepower does this put out?” I asked. I had seen and fired a Remington rifle but nothing like these two.
    “The Colt M4 Carbine, 700 rounds per minute. The AR-15 is 30