EMP Post-Apocalyptic Survival | Book 4 | A Day To Fight [EMP Survival In A Powerless World]

A Day to Fight


James Hunt


Contents
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


Copyright 2021 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
Created with Vellum


1
The interior of the conference room was bland. There were no pictures on the gray walls, no windows. Plastic chairs lined the walls, and a square table sat in the center where four seats were located. The room was illuminated by candles that provided an occult atmosphere, which many would argue was exactly the kind of meeting that was about to take place.
The door opened, and a stream of men entered, all of them dressed in tactical gear. Their uniforms were mismatched, but one symbol united them, which they wore with a hateful pride. On each shoulder was a bastardized version of the American flag.
At first glance, it looked normal, but a closer look revealed the swastika symbol on the blue patch where the stars should have been located. The official symbol of The New Order.
Nervous energy filled the air as the men filled the empty chairs. Everyone was eager for the latest news on the war efforts.
No official ranks had been given within The New Order, but the three men who sat at the table in the center of the room were held in high regard.
Tom Watts, Vincent Delgado, and Mark Riker. Each of them brought a level of cunning and savagery to their mission. They had laid the foundation for the organization and were integral in the planning of the EMP strike and subsequent militant attacks around the country.
Before joining The New Order, they had been wondering souls, lost and without purpose, just like the rest of the men in the room. But one man had brought them together. The one man whose chair had yet to be filled.
What started as a conversation in a basement almost ten years ago had finally come to fruition, and they were one step closer to realizing their ultimate goal. And none of them had sacrificed more than Mark Riker.
Mark had been the first disciple the supreme leader had found. He had been handpicked and molded into the supreme leader’s most trusted advisor and military leader. And while he showed no outward appearance of fear, inside, he was barely holding it together.
Mark’s last mission had been the most difficult of his tenure with The New Order. Harder than the detonation of the EMP, more strenuous than the endless fighting that had occurred in its aftermath. But keeping the truth a secret, he had learned, was more dangerous than speaking it aloud.
The supreme leader stepped through the door, and every fighter stood, showing their respect. He entered alone, as he always did.
The supreme leader found his chair but didn’t sit at first. He glanced around the room, pausing to look each man in the eye. The supreme leader wasn’t a large man; nothing about him appeared extraordinary at first glance. He was of average height and weight. He wasn’t much of a fighter. He didn’t have the greatest military mind. By many respects he was unremarkable, the kind of man that blended into the background.
But he had a way with words. And he was skilled at reaching into the minds of those who society had cast aside, and over the years, he had developed a following who had become his zealots for his twisted vision of the future.
A future that was becoming frighteningly close to reality.
“The night is long, but the dawn is bright,” the supreme leader said.
The New Order’s mantra was parroted back to the supreme leader, and when he sat down, the rest of his men followed suit.
“Conviction is something I’ve always preached about,” the supreme leader said. “Without conviction, we are lost and wandering souls finding meaning in the meaningless and purpose in ambiguity.”
Mark struggled to sit still, and despite the fact that the supreme leader wasn’t even looking at him, he was certain he saw Mark fidgeting.
“I have been straightforward from the very beginning about our mission and the likelihood of success,” the supreme leader said. “The longer we are engaged in modern warfare with our enemy, the less likely our victory becomes a reality. We do not benefit from prolonged warfare. We don’t have the men, and we don’t have the time. The EMP was simply a starting point for us, but we all knew this country’s military would regroup. It’s only a matter of time before they have air superiority and all of their tanks and missiles back online. Once that type of weaponry is unleashed against us, it will not matter how much food we have or how many automatic rifles we collected, or the stockpile of bullets in our coffers. The only way we win is through the complete annihilation of the central nervous system of our enemy. We strike at the heart with precision and purpose.” He closed his hand into a fist, and every eye in the room was drawn to it.
That fist was a symbol of strength to the men in the room, just as the bastardized flag emblazoned on their shoulders.
“Our conviction is the only weapon the enemy cannot take away from us,” the supreme leader said. “It is the sharpest tool in our arsenal, and it can propel us through any hardship. And make no mistake that hardship is on the horizon.”
While the supreme leader spoke of conviction, all Mark could think about was how he had shown his enemy mercy. The past he had thought was buried had resurfaced, and with it came a conflict he had avoided over a decade before.
“Bring him in!” the supreme leader shouted.
The door opened, and a man was dragged inside with