EMP Survival 2: Monterrey Monster

Masa flattened herself against the ruined wall and listened to the people surrounding the fire barrel, crouched and at the ready. She peered around the edge, hand resting on the handgun at her waist feeling the cold metal in her hands. It was an unfamiliar presence that weighed heavily at her side, along with the knowledge of what that presence meant. Tonight, she might have to kill someone.

When she was younger, her father taught her how to shoot and while she wasn’t bad at aiming, it was not nearly the level she would need to defend herself against so many. She had longed to see people so badly and now that she had arrived in what was left of Monterrey, their presence alone terrified her.

The people around the fire bore no resemblance to one another. Some spoke Spanish poorly, their pale skin marking them as foreigners. Others who spoke were locals, their words coming through clearly and their skins tanned from the summer sun. Some were old, some were children. They all had one thing in common, the dirt that covered them and the same look of emptiness in their eyes.

A young boy burst into tears and clung tightly to an older woman. “Mama!” he screamed. “I want my Mama!”

“Calm yourself, Carlos,” the older woman said, drawing the young boy onto her lap. She patted his head and a gentle humming came from her lips while she rocked him.

For a long time, the air was filled with nothing but her sweet voice. Others joined the song, humming alongside the older woman and sharing their loss.

Masa thought of her own father and her chest filled with pain. Tears filled her eyes and drifted down her cheeks. Her hand left the gun and covered her mouth, trying to stay silent. Staying alone and hidden behind the ruined wall while the people were together became almost unbearable. No, she needed to keep it together. It was better to stay safe and hidden.

“It’s not safe here,” growled a man about the age of her father and the tune ended. He stood at the fire’s edge with an air of authority, his hair tinged with grey. What was left of the clothing he wore, hung from his shoulders and waist peppered with gunfire holes and covered in blood. “We need to leave Monterrey. We should seek out a prison or a military base. Somewhere we can defend more easily.”

Another man stood, meeting his gaze with narrowed eyes. “Then how will the US Army find us? We’re ex-pats,” argued a man with an American twang, “Any day, they’ll come to rescue us and evacuate. If we leave, they’ll never find us.”

“We already fought off one group of bandits,” cried an older woman. “Matias is right. It’s not safe here.”

“I’m not leaving until I find my husband,” screamed a younger woman.

A commotion broke out and the adults stood and began arguing with each other. The voices wove together and any trace of conversation was indistinguishable from the rest. It grew louder, filling the air with a hum like a swarm of bees. An occasional word rose above the others laced with profanity. A woman screamed and the children burst into tears.

The sound of a gunshot filled the air and the people gasped and backed away. The American Expat stumbled back, staring at his chest. He collapsed onto his knees and fell face first on the ground. “I’m in charge now,” yelled Matias. “We do what I say. And I say we move.”

“But my husband…I have to find him...” screeched the young woman from before.

Mattias pointed the gun in her direction. “Do you have a problem?”

The woman shook her head and backed away. Tears filled her eyes and she ran from the group.

A brand-new tyrant taking his first stand. Masa stared at him, sizing him up. The light from the flames caught the edges of his face, highlighting the shadows beneath his eyes. The anger in them made him look like a demon; the pride like a serpent. He was well-built, perhaps ex-military or police. He must have been in charge while they defended against the bandits the other people spoke of. No doubt, he now thought he was the one in charge.

The rest of the people hung their heads in submission, defeated by either fear or grief. Whatever made them back down, any strength to fight they had was gone. She thought of her father and how much she had needed to search for him. The decision to move on had been hers and not someone else's and that had helped her stay strong. These people deserved the same.

Matias began barking orders to the men about supplies and then told the women to get the screaming children under control or he would shoot them.

Masa gripped the handgun, glaring at him from the shadows. It would be so easy to shoot him from this distance and the people would be better off without him. She pulled the hammer and cocked the handgun, removing the safety. Her hands shook while she aimed it at the man’s head, fully ready to fire.

“No, don’t,” said a voice behind her, tinged with a twist in his words that defined him as yet another American.

Masa went rigid, her eyes darted behind her in a panic. Her hand reflexively moved and pointed her gun at the teenage boy who had spoken. His dark skin caused him to barely be visible beneath the shadows. A few of his loose dreads swung across his face, fallen free from the rest hidden behind his head in a ponytail.

He frowned and stared at it, his hands shaking while he raised them in defense. “Please don’t shoot me.”

“Why not?” she hissed, pressing the gun into his chest.

“I’m Richards,” he said, smiling nervously, “Leron Richards. What’s your name?”

“I’m not here to make friends,” Masa snapped, still keeping her voice low. Her hands began to shake. It was one thing to shoot a tyrant, another entirely to shoot a boy her age. She put the handgun down and scowled at him. “Why shouldn’t I shoot him? You saw what he did.”

“You didn’t see the bandits,” Leron said, sitting against the wall. He gestured for her to join him. “They killed so many of us….there was much blood…”

Masa slid down the wall beside him and barely listened while he told her about the slaughter. Her fear was overcoming her and she longed to escape. By putting her gun down, she had put herself in danger. Leron could easily hurt her, or alert the man called Mattias. The people here might decide she was a bandit and shoot her instead. She wrapped her arms around her bent knees and hid the tears in her eyes.

“Come on you can tell me. What’s your name?” he asked. His Spanish was terrible, filled with the wrong words, but he seemed to be trying. And for the most part, she understood.

“Masa Gomez. Are you going to turn me in now?” she said, keeping her head hidden.

“No.” Leron sighed. He sat silently for a time before continuing, “Matias is a good man. The bandits killed over half of us. We had to bury them this afternoon including the kid's mother. Matias…he....he’s just trying to prevent everyone from killing each other. That also happened early on.”

“It’s only been a few days since whatever happened.”

“A lot can happen in a few days.”

Masa looked up at him, “Oh.” She wiped the tears from her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder. It felt good to be close to someone, anyone.

Leron wrapped his arm around her. “The American Matias killed was keeping us here, but it’s been days. If anyone was coming to rescue us, they would have. Your attempt to shoot him from here shows how dangerous it is to stay. Where did you come from?”

“A small town on the other side of the mountains.”

“Are there more people there?” he asked, his voice filled with hope.

“No. I was the only one who survived.”

“And I thought we had it rough.” He sat for the time, picked up a rock, and began playing with it in his hands. “Do you want to meet the others?” he asked at last.

“No...I don’t know,” she croaked. Masa swallowed back the tears and hid her head once more. Did she? Would Leron allow her to escape if she didn’t? Would she still have to shoot him? Was being with people worth being forced to serve someone like Mattias? She had longed to be around people so badly. And what if she left and the other groups of people were just as bad or worse?

“My parents both died,” he said, breaking the silence. “They heard the sirens and threw me in the refrigerator at their restaurant along with some of the people here.” He began to shake and she looked up and saw the tears in his eyes. “There…There was no room left and it had to be shut from the outside.”

“I’m sorry. I lost my father, too. We were out working on the satellite dish and it collapsed on us. I don’t know what happened to him.”

Leron shook his head, “I can’t believe it all ended so fast.” He sighed and climbed to his feet, “I need to go or they will be wondering where I have disappeared. Will you come with me?”

Masa stared at his open hand. “Will you let me go if I say no?” she asked.

“Won’t say a damn thing.”

“I will stay.” Masa reached up and took his hand. He led her from the shadows and towards the fire.

Matias was warming his hands over the flames, he turned and scowled at Leron. “Where have you been? I was about to send out a search party.”

“This is Masa. She came down from the mountains and wants to stay with us.”

“The community of preppers? Did anyone survive? Are there any supplies left?” he said with an air of desperation. He approached Masa, madness filled his eyes and she backed away, afraid of what he had done earlier. If she couldn’t help him, would he kill her too?

“No, there is nothing left,” Masa lied. She had no intention of telling him about the secret basement beneath the communications center. This man might protect them as Leron said, but she wasn’t going to help him any more than she had to.

Matias grew angry and took hold of her shirt, pulling her close to his face and studying her eyes. “You’re lying,” he seethed. The stench of his breath was sickening.

“Leave her alone,” cried Leron, trying to push them apart.

"Get away, Chico." When Leron didn't back down, Matias slapped him out of the way.

"Tell me!" he yelled.

“Let go of me. I’m not lying.” Masa reached for the gun at her waist and considered shooting him point blank. Before she could shoot, Matias released her, throwing her back to the ground. She groaned as the wind was knocked out of her. The brute of a man sighed and returned to the fire. “Find a place for her to sleep then.”

Leron rubbed the side of his face, eyes narrowed with rage. He climbed to his feet and helped Masa back on hers and towards a set of stairs leading down beneath one of the ruined buildings.

“I should have shot him,” she said, “It would have been better for everyone. He really is a monster.”

“Maybe, but every monster has people they protect. In this world, I would rather be protected by a terrible monster than none at all.”