Ryan Westfield - Pushing On

But he was a big man with a barrel chest. Well built. He didn’t fall. It’d take more than a couple punches to fell him. He may have been a white-collar professional before the EMP, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t physically tough. As tough as they come.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking. I don’t know what you’re planning. But don’t think we’re dumb enough to take you to our boss without the radio. He’s not going to like that. It’s simply not going to happen.”

“That’s the only way you’re getting it,” said Miller.

There was blood in Miller’s mouth. Maybe a tooth had gotten knocked out. He wasn’t sure.

The leader reached into his pocket and pulled out an automatic knife. He hit the button, and the blade flashed out. Double-sided, like a dagger. And it looked sharp.

“We’ll make you talk. And you’ll die. I don’t partially enjoy torturing much myself, but Kenny over here,” he said, nodding his head to the guy who had the shotgun pressed into Miller. “He’s a sick freak or something. He gets off on slicing people to ribbons. I’ve watched him do it.”

Maybe they were bluffing. Maybe not.

Miller decided to wait it out for as long as he could. Take his chances. Because if this plan didn’t work, he couldn’t take out these four guys by himself.

He’d almost convinced himself that there really was a radio. Of course, there was nothing. He’d have to lead them to a place where he could take them out.

“You’ve got two seconds.”

“Boss or nothing,” said Miller.

“Whatever, have it your way. Here you go, Kenny.” He went to hand the knife to Kenny.

The shotgun moved away from Miller’s belly.

“I’ve got my own, boss,” said Kenny. Delight dripped all over his words.

Miller watched as Kenny took something like a Bowie knife from a leather sheath.

“Remember,” said Kenny, pointing the knife at Miller. “You asked for this.”

Miller figured they’d just try to scare him. Maybe drag the point of the Bowie knife across his skin. Maybe draw some blood.

That was the best case scenario.

It was almost too fast when it happened. Miller felt a hand on his. He felt his fingers being tugged away.

The knife flashed as it sliced downwards.

Pain in his hand.

Miller wasn’t sure what happened. The pain was diffuse. What had been hit?

Miller looked down at his hand.

His pinky was missing. Completely gone, down to the knuckle.

Blood flowed freely, already pooling on the ground.

Kenny just laughed.

The leader laughed.

The two others chuckled nervously. Maybe they were worried that a similar fate awaited them too, if they didn’t stay in line.

The blood kept flowing.

No one spoke for a long moment.

Miller didn’t know how long he’d last, bleeding out like that. But he didn’t move to put pressure on the wound, or to raise it above his head. It needed more attention than that, anyway.

“Here’s the deal. This is your last chance to come clean and cooperate with us. If not, I’ll set Kenny loose on you. And I mean really loose. You wouldn’t believe what he’s capable of. He’s a sick man.”

Miller knew he was out of options.

“OK,” he said. His voice sounded funny to him. Maybe it was the adrenaline coursing through him, as his body responded to the wound. He felt a little shaky. “I’ll take you to the radio.”

“Good.”

Now all Miller had to do was figure out what the hell he was going to do.

The pickup truck came speeding towards them. It looked like two drivers in the cab, and no one in the back. The bed looked empty. It was an older truck.

They all had their rifles ready.

Max’s hand was on his Glock.

The driver of the pickup didn’t hesitate. Whoever it was drove it right up to them, stopping only about twenty feet away.

They weren’t acting like they were looking for a fight.

The engine cut off.

The highway was silent once again.

“What do we do, Max?” said James. His voice sounded shaky.

“Stay calm,” said Max.

Max walked, Glock ready, towards the pickup.

He could see through the windshield more clearly now. There was only one person. Someone with long hair.

A woman?

The driver’s side door opened.

A woman stepped out.

She was tall, with long legs clad in tight black jeans. Her hair was thick and dark, tied behind her head in a messy ponytail.

She wore a gun on her hip, but she didn’t reach for it.

Not yet, at least.

She and Max locked eyes.

“You’re entering our territory,” she said.

“Whose territory?”

“Ours,” she said.

“You represent a group?”

She nodded.

She was in her early forties, most likely. Her face was pretty, with slightly angular features. No makeup. Her expression was serious, and she stood tall and didn’t waver or quake. She seemed like someone who was sure of herself and used to getting her way.

“Look,” said Max. “I don’t know who you are, or what group you represent. But we’re just passing through. We’re not looking for any trouble.”

She just stared at him.

“What’s the name of your group?”

“We don’t have a name. We’re a self-sufficient democratically organized community.”

Max nodded. “That’s great, but you don’t own the highway. As far as I can tell, it belonged to the people of the United States. The EMP didn’t change that, even if the government has fallen all over. And it seems like it has.”

“How many of you are there?”

“Six.”

“Men, women, children?”

“Three women, three men. No children.”

Max didn’t consider James and Sadie children. They were quickly becoming adults.

“Where are you headed?”

“That’s our own business.”

Max didn’t want to reveal their plan to head to Kentucky. He didn’t know who this woman was, and while she didn’t seem interested in physically harming them (she wouldn’t have been a threat, anyway, against them all, or even Max alone), she could do damage to them in some other way.

“My name is Kara,” said the woman, taking the conversation in a new direction. “You should come with us. We welcome newcomers to our group.”

“We’re not interested in joining.”

“You might change your mind once you see our community. We’ve been building it for years before the EMP. We have medical facilities, showers, bathrooms. We grow our own food.”

“Not interested.”

Max didn’t trust her, or her supposed community. It was better to strike out on their own, take matters into their own hands.

“You could come and see what it’s like. Get a shower. Eat some food. Good food. No pressure, no obligations.”

“Sounds too good to be true.”

Max didn’t trust her, even though she looked like a trustworthy person. Or at least as trustworthy as they came after the EMP.

“Talk it over,” said Kara. “You have time.”

Max didn’t like to take orders from a stranger, but he was smart enough to realize that she had a point. Talking it over would be good.

Their supplies were perilously low, as they always seemed to be. Even a single meal would do them good, allow them to continue pushing on.

And information. They could get information from Kara and her group. Information about the route ahead, about the dangers that lay in their path.

“Come on, James,” said Max, walking away from Kara and heading towards the Ford Bronco.

Chad stood there, looking dazed. Max didn’t know what was going on with him. He didn’t bother calling him for a group discussion.