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No Ordinary Mission: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller
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No Ordinary Mission
A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller
Harley Tate
Copyright © 2021 by Harley Tate. Cover and internal design © by Harley Tate. Cover image copyright © Deposit Photos and NeoStock, 2021.
All rights reserved.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The use of stock photo images in this e-book in no way imply that the models depicted personally endorse, condone, or engage in the fictional conduct depicted herein, expressly or by implication. The person(s) depicted are models and are used for illustrative purposes only.
Contents
No Ordinary Mission
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
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
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Also by Harley Tate
Acknowledgments
No Ordinary Mission
A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller
When everything is on the line, would you have what it takes to survive?
Emma survived a shootout, an ambush, and the end of the modern world all thanks to a hitman sent to kill her. Now that he’s gravely injured, she struggles to imagine life without him. If he doesn’t recover soon, she might not have a choice.
Can you ever atone for the past?
Beaten, shot, and stabbed, John’s hanging onto consciousness by a thread. But his injuries are the least of his problems. His old boss is out for blood and won’t stop until John and Emma are dead.
The apocalypse makes strange bedfellows.
With chaos unfolding all around them, Emma, John, and their friends are up against an enemy they might be too weak to defeat. If they don’t find a way to prevail, it’ll be the end of their friendship, and their lives.
The EMP is only the beginning.
No Ordinary Mission is book three in the No Ordinary Day series, a post-apocalyptic thriller series following ordinary people struggling to survive when an EMP plunges the United States into chaos.
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Chapter One
EMMA
“I swear this case of soup weighs more than it did a couple of days ago.” Emma hoisted the shrink-wrapped stack of cans into the back of the Explorer before wiping the sweat off her nose and forehead. They had moved so many times in the past week it had become routine.
“Where’s Vince?” Raymond checked his watch for the hundredth time since sunrise. “We’re cutting it close.”
“We all know we need to leave, Ray.” Gloria cast a placating smile at her husband as she shoved a case of water into one of the last open spaces. “But we don’t want to starve, do we?”
Ever since the collapse of the power grid, Emma, Gloria, and the rest of the group had been on the run. Not from the apocalypse, but from men hired to kill them. Whether CropForward, Emma and Gloria’s former employer, had put out the hit, or as one of the hitmen claimed, the orders were from the Federal government itself, the women had no idea. Either way, it meant constant vigilance and a never-ending undercurrent of fear.
Emma glanced at the house where John lay sprawled out on the sofa, barely conscious of anything other than pain and nausea. She’d managed to shove pills down his throat, but they came up an hour later. His knife wound was puffy and swollen around the stitches and Emma worried about infection. The sensible course of action included rest and recovery in one place. Not driving hundreds of miles to a primitive cabin in the middle of the woods. But if John’s boss was determined to carry out the hit, they needed to move. Now.
Holly rounded the corner of the barn, leading a chestnut mare by the bridle. Raymond took one look at the horse and groaned. “I thought we’d agreed to leave the animals behind.”
“But Vince said—” Before Holly finished, a cloud of dust and an old pickup truck emerged from the fields, towing a horse trailer.
After parking in the turnaround, Vince hopped down and motioned to Holly with a smile. “Get Cornflower on up inside. I’ll work on Tailwind.”
Raymond stared at the trailer as a mix of surprise and anger washed across his features. He stepped forward, hands bunching into fists.
Oh, no. Emma rushed forward, gravel crunching beneath her shoes as she hustled across the parking area. “Hey, Ray.” She held up a hand. The last thing they needed was a fight when they were late already. If Vince wanted to bring the horses, it was his right; they were headed to his property because he invited them. “I know we talked about traveling light, but Vince made a good point this morning.”
His shoulders tensed and he looked past her to where Vince held the trailer door open. “I’m listening.”
She smiled even though he didn’t look her way. “The horses might be our only means of transportation soon. You’ve seen how hard it is to find gas already. What will it be like in a few weeks?”
“The trailer will slow us down.”
“Yes, but the horses might make the difference later.”
“It’s not worth it.” Raymond refused to look her way and Emma was out of arguments in Vince’s favor.
Ever since they showed up at Raymond and Gloria’s cabin, they had been at odds. Raymond only regarded John with suspicion, had to be convinced to leave for Vince’s place, and now this. If she pushed him any harder, he might crack and do something they would all regret.
“This is bigger than just the drive.” Gloria wiped her hands on her jeans and approached her husband. Emma eased back to give her room. “We need to think long-term, hon.”
Raymond lowered his head to make eye contact with his wife. “Long-term won’t matter if you’re dead.”
“I don’t think you remember what I’m like hungry.” She rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. The simple gesture melted Raymond’s cool exterior, and he leaned into the kiss. “It’ll be okay. I promise.”
As Raymond wrapped his wife in a hug, the front door to the main house swung open. Emma turned as Vince’s wife Sandra stopped on the threshold. She’d been nothing but trouble since they arrived; first insisting they leave, then complaining when Vince offered them food, even belittling her own daughter. Emma glanced at Holly. So far, the girl hadn’t noticed.
“You’re leaving me with nothing.” Sandra spat the words across the parking area at her husband who still stood beside the open trailer. “All that food you’re taking should stay behind.”
Vince didn’t respond, opting instead to work on the lever for the door to the horse trailer.
After a moment, Sandra filled the silence, gesticulating at the Explorer. “I might not have paid for that food, but I bought it. It’s not right for you to just take it.”
With slow, methodical movements, Vince swung the door to the trailer shut and locked it before turning to his wife. “We’re not taking everything. There’s n
o need to be so dramatic.” He fingered the brim of his cowboy hat as he pulled it low enough to obscure his eyes. “The simple fact is, there are six of us and one of you. We need more food than you do to survive.”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, but I’m not putting any of it back.” He dropped his hand and tilted up his head to look Sandra in the eye. “It’s coming with us.”
She shot out a red painted nail in Holly’s direction. “She’s not even your daughter. Why do you care about her more than you care about me?”
Emma blinked. Sandra might be Holly's biological mother, but that’s where the bond ended. It didn’t matter how many times she witnessed the woman being ugly to Holly, it came as a surprise every time. To Holly’s credit, she didn’t even flinch, remaining steadfast bedside the trailer.
Vince gave her a smile before turning back to Sandra. “She might not be my flesh and blood, but I’m married to you and that makes her family. You might not have any feelings for her,” he paused, swallowing down what Emma guessed was bile, “but I’m not going to abandon her.”
Sandra leaned down, reaching for something just inside the door. As she stood up, the shotgun was in her hands. “I’m sorry, Vince, but I can’t let you do this. That food and those horses are staying here.”
His eyes widened as he took stock of the gun. “Sandra, put that down.”
She laughed and Emma shivered. “You really think you have any right to tell me what to do?” She lifted the shotgun into firing position, jamming the butt against her shoulder. “Unhitch the trailer and take that food back inside.”
Vince held up his hands. You’re not going to shoot me.” He took a step forward and Sandra lowered her head to take aim.
Emma’s blood pressure spiked. “Vince, I wouldn’t—”
He stepped toward his wife and her finger circled the trigger.
“Vince, I’d stop—”
Sandra fired. The bullet missed Vince by inches, grazing the side of the trailer before diving into the dirt beyond. “That was your last warning. Leave the horses, that trailer, and the food.”
“Three horses and plenty of food are staying behind.” Holly spoke up from the other side of the trailer. “You don’t need any more.”
Sandra twisted, head still bent over the shotgun, to aim at her daughter. “Why would I settle for that?”
Holly pulled the handgun Willy had held to her head only the day before from behind her back and pointed it at her mother. “Because I’m a better shot and my guess is, you don’t wanna die today.”
Emma stared wide-eyed at the teenager. Would she really shoot her own mother? The relationship was strained at best, but Emma caught the girl crying more than once when she thought she was alone. Did children ever lose the desire to please their parents? She spoke up across the turnaround. “Holly, maybe—”
She waved Emma off. “I’m sorry, but she has enough. She doesn’t need what we’re taking.”
After another few moments of tense standoff, Sandra lowered the shotgun. “You really are your father’s daughter.” Without another word, she stomped inside, slamming the door shut behind her.
Everyone outside sucked in a collective deep breath. Holly shoved the handgun back beneath the waistband of her jeans and Vince leaned over to say what Emma hoped were words of encouragement.
In the course of not much more than a week, Holly had changed from a timid and frightened fifteen-year-old, to a take-charge, assertive little adult. If only Zach, her father, could see her now. Emma’s lips thinned as the memory of finding his dead body came to mind. Thanks to John’s former employer Dane, and his nephew Willy, not only was Holly’s father dead, but they were on the run. Again.
Emma shook herself back to the present and picked up one of the last cases of food. Gloria rounded up Tank and Pringles and gave her reluctant husband a pat on the arm. Within a matter of minutes, they finished preparing.
Without another peep of complaint from Sandra, Vince, Holly, and Tank climbed up into the cab of the old pickup. Raymond half-carried, half-dragged John to the Jeep and Emma helped stuff him into the passenger seat. He moaned as his head lolled to the side and Emma buckled him in.
As Raymond climbed into the driver’s seat of the Explorer, Pringles let out a bark of encouragement from Gloria’s lap in the passenger seat. They pulled out with Vince in the lead, leaving the comfort of his farm behind for a primitive property a day or two away.
With the sun full and round above the horizon, they turned onto the main road, headed southwest. Emma hoped they had left in time to avoid any more of Dane’s men. With John out of commission, she didn’t know if they could survive another attack.
She glanced at John sacked out in the passenger seat. He might have been sent to kill her, but now she couldn’t imagine life without him.
Chapter Two
JOHN
John blinked away the sticky crust of sleep and three things hit him all at once: pain, nausea, and the bright midday sun. He ran his tongue across sandpaper lips and turned toward the driver’s seat. “How long have I been out?”
She glanced at her watch. “Six or seven hours.”
He groaned and turned back to face the front.
“That good?”
“I’ve been better.”
“You should drink some water. Try some food.” She eyed him long enough for John to grow uncomfortable. “When’s the last time you kept anything down?”
“Before Willy filleted my leg, I’d guess.” He reached for the water, unscrewed the cap, and brought it to his lips. He didn’t drink. “Where are we?”
“Just crossed into Arkansas. Vincent’s property is in Texas. We’ll have to stop for the night.”
John rubbed his eyes as they passed a speed limit thirty-five sign. “Has it been this slow the whole way?”
Emma shook her head. “Only when we come upon a town.” She slowed the Jeep to maintain a healthy distance away from Vince’s trailer as the first glimpses of a town came into view. They passed a small brick bungalow sitting smack in the middle of a mowed lawn followed by another and another. Vincent stopped at a stop sign and Emma pulled up behind. As she lifted her foot off the brake, movement caught John’s weary eye.
A kid no more than fifteen, with acne-pocked cheeks and an oversized T-shirt, ran into the road waving his arms overhead.
Emma glanced at John, eyes wide.
John grimaced as he pushed himself up straighter in the passenger seat. “Don’t open the window.”
“What if he needs help?”
“What if he doesn’t?” He reached for the Sig Sauer sitting in the console, thankful Raymond came to his senses after John relieved the prisoners of their weapons back in Georgia and gave him back his favorite pistol. He checked the magazine.
“Do you really think that’s necessary?”
John jerked his head in Emma’s direction and a wave of nausea roiled his stomach. “It’s worth being prepared.”
Emma flashed a tight smile at the kid as he reached their vehicle. John had half a mind to wave the gun in a get lost motion. But every second that ticked by brought more saliva and stomach acid up his throat. Another minute and he’d hurl.
The kid pointed toward the window and then the ground in an attempt to convince Emma to roll it down. Her fingers hovered over the button.
“Don’t even think about it.”
She glanced at John before turning back to the kid with another smile. “Can I help you?” She called out, loud enough for him to hear.
The hint of a mustache puckered as he frowned. He motioned for her to roll down the window again, but when she refused, he shouted at the glass. “My mom! She’s having a baby, but something’s not right. The baby won’t come.” He glanced past Emma to John and for a moment, a wave of something John couldn’t identify crossed his face. He turned back to Emma. “Please! We need your help.”
On an ordinary day, with his faculties fir
ing on all cylinders, John would have already reached over the console, grabbed the wheel, punched the gas, and driven on. But he could barely focus above the pain. “We aren’t helping him.”
Emma slumped back against the seat, the need to help and John’s refusal in conflict. “What if he’s telling the truth?”
“You have to assume he’s not.”
“Why? Not everyone is a bad guy, John.”
Most are. “I’m not in a position to have your back. You’d be going in without support.” He flicked his eyes up to give the kid another look. “He’s shifting his weight back and forth, glancing behind him every ten seconds. He’s not trustworthy.”
“His mom is in labor. He’s probably frantic with worry.”
“We can’t drive away and leave him with nothing. If it’s true, the baby could die. His mom, too. Then what will happen to him?” Emma kept her wide-open eyes trained on John and after an excruciating minute, he reached for the walkie-talkie.
“See what Raymond thinks.” He shoved the device toward her. “If he wants to help, then I won’t stop you. But you’re going armed.”
Emma’s fingers slipped around the walkie-talkie, and she clicked the button before bringing it up to her mouth. “Raymond, can you hear me? We’ve got a situation.”
The walkie-talkie crackled. “Is that kid bothering you?”
Emma’s gaze drifted to John. “He says there’s a pregnant woman in labor and it’s not going well. Wants us to help.”