The Last Orchard [Book 2] Read online

  The Last Orchard- Book 2

  James Hunt

  Contents

  Prequel- The Last Orchard Book 0

  1. One Week Later

  2. One Month Later

  3. Three Months Later

  4. One Year Later

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  21. One Year Later

  About the Author

  Copyright 2018 All rights reserved worldwide. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, by any means without prior written permission, except for brief excerpts in reviews or analysis.

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  Prequel- The Last Orchard Book 0

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  Charlie Decker traveled to Seattle to acquire a much needed loan for his family’s Orchard. After a dozen requests, Charlie is forced to head home empty handed. But his plans are derailed after an unexpected attack on the city renders all electronics useless. No cars. No phones. Everything about the modern world has been destroyed. And that’s when the chaos begins.

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  1

  One Week Later

  The nightmares hadn’t stopped. Every night they replayed, and each time the sickening sour pit in Charlie’s stomach worsened. Just like tonight.

  Charlie awoke, gasping for air and dripping with sweat. He hands ached from clutching the sleeping bag so tightly. He sat upright, catching his breath, and tried to rid himself of the images of his dead father. He shook his head. “It’s not real.”

  But despite the repeated mantra, Charlie couldn’t shake the dreams. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep, Charlie dressed, hoping that dawn was near, and he was pleasantly surprised to find the sky gray with early morning. He swiped at the growing scruff on his face and then slicked back his hair.

  Charlie stepped around the tents sprawled outside the back of Doc’s house, half of which had been consumed by the fires when the terrorists had marched from Mayfield. But the rain that followed had been kind enough to allow Doc to keep some of his home.

  It was where Liz and Adelyn slept, along with Mario’s children and the Bigelow boys. They were crammed inside that house like sardines in a tin can, and while Charlie may have had to sleep on the ground, he was thankful for at least a little bit of privacy.

  The tents were on loan from Dixon. After the battle in Mayfield, he had a sudden surplus of field gear due to the casualties he suffered from the conflict with the terrorists. And the shelters weren’t the only items on loan from the newly minted commander.

  Charlie reached back inside the tent and grabbed the AR-15 that he kept on his person at all times. None of the adults walked the premises without being armed. It was a rule that Charlie initiated.

  With the rest of the group still asleep, Charlie headed toward Doc’s back door and found the retired veterinarian awake, sneaking a smoke on his back porch. It was a habit the old man had picked back up, and the number of smokes he was sneaking had increased the longer they’d gone without power.

  Doc raised his eyebrows as Charlie approached. Both men kept their voices low.

  “How’s it looking today?” Charlie asked, his stomach tightening from stress even before he asked the question.

  Doc exhaled smoke through his nostrils, and then ashed the cigarette into a small pile of dirt near the back steps. He shook his head. “We have another three days of food. Maybe only two.”

  Charlie glanced back to the tents, and then to the blackened fields of the orchard. He’d gone through the fields every day since they buried his father, and every time he looked at them, he was reminded of the insurmountable amount of work that lay ahead.

  Past the fields were the skeletal remains of Charlie’s family house and barn. He had already sifted through the wreckage, but the fires had left little to salvage.

  The food stores that Charlie and his family had stashed in the cellar had been destroyed, leaving them with what food Doc had and what rations that Dixon was able to spare, but he hadn’t been as willing to part with his food as he had his weapons.

  “Hector and his wife have already been asking about how much we have left.” Doc groaned as he stood and his knees popped. He straightened out his back, eliciting another crack. “What do you want to do?”

  Charlie peeled his gaze away from the blackened fields and then looked to Doc as the first rays of dawn broke over the eastern horizon. “We’ll have to head out. Scavenge.”

  Doc nodded, pocketed his hands, and then stepped closer to Charlie. “You know what that might mean, right?” He tilted his head to the side.

  “I do.” And it was one of the reasons why Charlie had dreaded going out in the first place. He hadn’t anticipated being so behind the curve. He was supposed to have enough food, water, and supplies to last them for at least a few months while they hunted and fished.

  But the three excursions that they made out into the woods for game had been fruitless, and Mario still hadn’t completed the nets to use on the river. Time was against them.

  Doc gripped Charlie’s shoulder, his old blue eyes still vibrant, the mind behind them still as sharp as a man in his twenties. “This isn’t the same world anymore, Charlie. We all have to adapt to it.”

  Charlie nodded, and then both men turned back toward the house at the sound of the back door opening. It was Liz.

  “Everyone up?” she asked.

  Charlie walked to her, taking her hand and helping her down the stairs. “You shouldn’t be up and walking around like that.” Charlie took her hand and then pulled her close, kissing her lips and abiding the hunger that went beyond the need for food. But Liz was still recovering, and Doc hadn’t lifted his restrictions on certain activities. Both eagerly waited for that day to arrive.

  “Doc said that I should be moving around if I can,” Liz said, taking a step of independence away from Charlie and toward the rising sun. Once she was away from him, she looked back at him and smiled. “And I can.”

  “Just don’t overdo it,” Doc said, returning to the kitchen. “I’ll get breakfast ready. If you two are up, then the rest won’t be far behind.”

  “Thanks, Doc.” Charlie waited until he and Liz were alone, and then he joined her, gently and carefully wrapping his arms around her waist, enjoying her warmth and the weight of her body as she pressed back against him.

  After a minute, Liz turned around, frowning. “What is it?”

  “Nothing,” Charlie answered.

  Liz cocked her head to the side. “Haven’t we gotten past this?”

  Charlie took a breath and then nodded. He glanced around, making sure that they were still alone, and kept his voice to a whisper. “We only have two days’ worth of rations left.”

  “Can you talk to Dixon?” Liz asked, matching his secretive tone.

  “I already did,” Charlie answered. “That’s where I went yesterday. He said no.”

  Liz exhaled, her worry suddenly matching his own. She bit her lower lip, chewed on it for a minute, and then nodded. “You’re going out?’

  Charlie had already tossed the idea around with a few people in the group, the ones he trusted the most. Doc, Mario, and Liz. He would have spoken to his mother about it, but the pair hadn’t said a word to each other since the day they buried his father.

  Martha Decker had closed herself
off, shut down. The only person she spoke with was Liz, and whatever they spoke about was kept between them.

  “I’ll take Mario and Hector,” Charlie said. “We’ll head west.”

  Liz nodded, trying to hide the worry but doing a poor job.

  “I’ll be fine,” Charlie said, forcing a smile.

  Liz studied his face and then pressed her hands on either side of his head, running her nails through his hair. She lifted herself up on her tippy toes and kissed him. “Just come back.”

  “I will.”

  Breakfast was uneventful, though there were a few grumbles from the kids about having beans again. Adelyn sat with Liz and Charlie, the little girl becoming their adopted daughter. Adelyn spent most of her time with Liz, and the pair had bonded over the past week.

  Charlie had done what he could, but fatherhood wasn’t a role he had time to prepare for. It was trial by fire, as was everything now.

  After everyone was fed, Charlie pulled Mario and Hector to the side, telling both of them the plan. And while Mario looked prepared, Hector’s cheeks had gone pale.

  “Grab enough water for a day’s hike, along with your rifles and ammunition,” Charlie said. “We leave in ten.”

  The pair of men nodded, both returning to their wives, each of them concerned after their talk.

  While they hadn’t had any incidents on the orchard yet, everyone had heard the random gunshots that periodically echoed through the day and night. It was a constant reminder of the world’s new order.

  Charlie returned to his tent, digging up the extra magazines that he’d hidden beneath it, accessed through a flap that he cut out in the canvas floor. He put the magazines in plastic bags to prevent any dirt from jamming the weapon. He placed them in his backpack, and when he stepped out of the tent, he was surprised to find his mother standing outside, waiting for him.

  Charlie froze with his hand on the grip of the blade he clipped to his belt. He frowned. “Mom, are you all right?”

  Martha Decker remained motionless, her expression stoic, as her faded grey eyes studied the man in front of her. “You’re leaving.”

  Charlie adjusted the straps of his pack and slung the rifle over his shoulder as he walked to his mother. “Mario, Hector, and I are heading out to search for food.”

  “Search, or take?” Martha asked.

  Up close, Charlie had a better view of his mother’s deteriorating condition. Her eyes had sunken along with her cheeks, clinging to the shape of her skull. Her arms were bone thin, and the little patches of gray had spread to nearly every strand on her head. In the week since Harold Decker’s death, Martha Decker had aged another five years. Grief had changed his mother. And Charlie wasn’t sure if the woman who had raised him would ever return.

  “Your father knew how to handle a weapon,” Martha said, keeping her tone cold. “Do you remember what he taught you, Charles?”

  Charlie winced. She had never called him that, not even as a child. It was like being addressed by a stranger.

  “I remember.” Charlie loaded a magazine into the assault rifle.

  “Don’t come back empty-handed,” Martha said. “Your father wouldn’t come back empty-handed.” She turned and quickly left, leaving behind nothing but the sting of her words.

  Once Mario and Hector had their weapons, Charlie made sure each of them carried two duffel bags to help carry back any provisions that they found.

  Goodbyes were said, Charlie kissed Liz one more time, gave Adelyn a hug, and then headed west.

  Conversation was kept to a minimum, and Hector and Mario continued to look back toward the orchard even after they were gone. But Charlie kept his eyes forward.

  Turning around now meant facing those brittle trees and his failure to protect his family’s home. And he’d already had enough reminders about that today.

  Charlie stayed alert, constantly readjusting his grip on the rifle in his hands. Every step in this new world was dangerous.

  The EMP had robbed people of their decency, casting the surviving population into the Stone Age, forcing people to fight and claw and scratch for scraps.

  A few miles west of the orchard and Charlie spotted a cluster of about a dozen mobile homes, all of them raised on blocks, situated on a small clearing off the mountain road.

  The people who owned the cluster of units rented them out to anyone that paid cash only, which attracted the type of clientele that usually had legal troubles. Charlie wasn’t sure what they might find inside, but he was going to sweep every location until he found food.

  Mario and Hector clustered near Charlie by a rocky out-cove just before the clearing for the mobile homes. A nervous energy ran through them, none of them able to remain completely still.

  “I’ll be the first to enter,” Charlie said. “Hector, you follow after me, clearing the left while I handle the right.” He turned to Mario. “Watch our backs.”

  “What do we do if someone is inside?” Hector asked.

  Charlie was quiet for a moment, and it was the silence that made Hector drop his gaze, mumbling in hasty Spanish.

  “Whatever we find, whatever happens, remember what we have back at the orchard,” Charlie said. “We have more to think about than just ourselves.” He leaned forward, letting the men feed off of his confidence. “We come back with nothing, and our people suffer.”

  “We won’t come back empty-handed,” Mario said, looking to Hector. “Si?”

  Hector nodded but still couldn’t completely erase the worry from his face.

  Charlie faced the mobile units and headed for the nearest one, moving quickly and keeping low on his approach. The old wooden steps that led to the front door groaned from their weight, and every noise caused Charlie to wince.

  The element of surprise was their greatest ally, and while Charlie had been able to show Mario and Hector the necessary functions and general safety elements of the weapons they used, none of them were tactical experts.

  What little Charlie knew he pried from Dixon. The most important piece of advice was keeping everyone on the same page. Give a person a job, have them focus only on that, and trust that everyone else completed their assignments. Because if that trust failed, then people died.

  Charlie burst into the first home, his adrenaline pumping and his brain processing information so fast it barely registered in his conscious mind.

  Luckily the room was empty, save for a few broken chairs and a pile of dirty sheets in the far corner of the room. The rest of the mobile home was searched, and they found nothing.

  The next three units were in similar condition, and the more the trio worked through the process, the more they fell into a rhythm.

  At the fourth unit, Charlie stood opposite of Hector, rifle aimed at the opening of the door crack, and they counted down from three. On zero, Hector opened the door, and Charlie stepped forward.

  Once past the entrance’s threshold, a force kicked the rifle barrel out of his hands, tackling him into the wall, the motion slamming the door shut in the process.

  A random gunshot fired and drowned out the sound of Charlie choking on his back, squirming to get the upper hand on his attacker.

  A pair of bulging and crazed eyes stared down at Charlie, the pair of hands clamped around his neck tightening like a vise. Charlie smacked at the assailant’s arms, and then the door swung open and Mario barreled inside, shoving the attacker off of Charlie and knocking him to the floor.

  His throat free of the hands, Charlie gasped for air and then rolled to his side, cheeks purple as he hacked and coughed, forcing down the crawl of hot bile that was making its way up his throat.

  “There’s more outside!” Hector shouted.

  Charlie forced himself to his hands and knees, and then grabbed the rifle that he’d dropped to the floor, aiming it at the man Mario had pinned down.

  Hector rushed inside, slamming the door shut behind him, and ducked to the floor as gunshots thundered and bullets pounded the flimsy trailer walls.

&nbs
p; Charlie flattened himself to the floor as well, and for the moment both Mario and their attacker had suspended their squabbling as they avoided the deadly barrage of bullets.

  After a few minutes the gunfire stopped, and Charlie raised his head. He glanced over to Hector, then back to Mario, and finally the attacker who was propped up on the back wall, head cocked to the side, mouth hanging open and motionless. Two red holes punctured his chest, blood leaking from the wounds.

  “Come on out!” The voice barked the command, but it was far away, the shout little more powerful than a breeze on a cool day.

  Charlie looked to Mario and Hector and pressed his finger to his lips. Slowly, he crawled to the nearest bullet hole and squinted through it.

  Two figures appeared, but only one of them was armed. Charlie maneuvered to get a better look at what he couldn’t see, and then saw a third body, also armed.

  Charlie leaned back, then held up three fingers and pointed outside. Hector and Mario nodded in understanding.

  “Let Frankie out!”

  The second voice was different than the first, and judging by the way they were hushed, Charlie suspected that they weren’t supposed to speak.

  “Come out, now, or we will kill you all!”

  “You want your man to come out alive, you drop your weapons!” Charlie shouted, hoping the attackers wouldn’t call his bluff.

  Silence followed the request and Charlie peered through the holes again, watching the trio deliberate. After a minute, they broke apart, and one of the armed men stepped closer.

  “You let him out, and then we let you go!”