Atomic Threat Box Set [Books 1-3]

by Bowman, Dave

  She had no idea where she would sleep at night.

  On her back, she wore a backpack stuffed with warm clothes, a blanket, a little food, and two water bottles. She had strapped a small pillow and a second blanket to the outside of the pack. She hoped it would be enough to keep hypothermia at bay.

  And then there was the risk of being attacked while she slept. If she could get far enough outside of the city this first day, maybe she would find a quiet spot in the woods or in a farm field, she told herself. Somewhere she could hide herself and her bicycle and not be seen by anyone on the road.

  After another hour, she could no longer ignore her growling stomach. In some small town outside Roanoke, she came to a stop along the highway. Digging through her bag, she had a small snack of dried fruit and a couple sips of water. She shook her head, lamenting her tiny supply of food and drink. She couldn't wait to get home and tuck into a large, home-cooked meal.

  A flash of something moving to her right caught her eye. She looked up, startled. It was a man, heading toward her at a brisk pace.

  A wave of fear coursed through her. She stashed her food and bottle in her pack, then pushed off on her bike again. She glanced at the man as she took off. He had sunken eyes with dark circles around them. He didn't look harmless. Heather didn't know what he wanted, and she didn't want to find out.

  The man started running toward her. “Hey, wait! I just want to ask you something!”

  Heather steered the bike away, flying down the road and out of his grasp.

  It had been a close call. She would have to be more alert.

  She left the small town without delay. Though she was already getting exhausted and weakened from hunger, she had to push herself. She knew she would have to find a safe place to rest that night.

  Her trust in strangers was at an all-time low.

  Heather wanted to be as far away from people as she could. She knew that if she had any shot at surviving long enough to see her family again, she'd have to watch her back.

  15

  As Annie waited down the street from her house, gunshots echoed through the hills.

  Charlotte had been gone for a while. Too long. With each passing moment, Annie grew more worried.

  She had never seen her street so dark. Without the street lights, very little could be seen. Which meant that the headlights of Dan's Porsche stood out like a spotlight on stage. And the engine broke the relative quiet of the neighborhood.

  At least, it was quiet for moments at a time. Then the shooting would begin again.

  It seemed as if there were some gun battle happening several streets over. Maybe people fighting for territory. How many of these houses were now occupied by squatters or invaders? Had Annie's neighbors been murdered? Maybe the entire city would be taken over by gangs and criminals. Whoever had the most guns and ammo would win.

  And now Annie was left without a weapon. The thieves had taken Jack's Glock, which she had been counting on to provide much-needed protection. Dan's .22 was better than nothing, but it did Annie no good at the moment.

  If things were this bad in a relatively quiet neighborhood of Austin, she could only imagine how terrible it must be in Los Angeles. Once again, her thoughts went out to her husband. She hoped he was safe, and she hoped he was on his way home.

  If only those intruders hadn't taken Jack's gun. But they had. And now she had to leave all of her belongings behind.

  She had planned to pack some clothes for herself and her husband. And food – Jack and Annie had enough food in the house to fill up the Porsche. And all her photo albums and precious family heirlooms! She knew she wouldn't have been able to take it all, but she could have grabbed the most important things.

  But now, it was all lost. She had to leave it behind with those thieves who would destroy it.

  A dark thought made Annie shudder. What if they burned the house down? She had seen several houses burned to the ground in the city. Ones that had been outside the blast radius, and either had been burned by accident or for fun by arsonists. The people in Annie's house now had sounded so disturbed that Annie wouldn't put it past them to do something as cruel and senseless as that.

  And just like that, her home could go up in flames. Everything she and Jack had worked so hard to create, just gone.

  Annie was filled with rage at the three people who occupied her home. But she was powerless to do anything. The powerlessness just made everything worse.

  If only she could escape to the country, away from all these criminals and violence. Things would be better at the Hawthorne ranch in Loretta. If only they could get there.

  As the minutes ticked by, Annie debated what she should do. What if Charlotte had gotten lost and couldn't find her way back to Annie's street? Should Annie go looking for her? But then she would miss her if Charlotte returned a different route. No, better to wait where she was.

  Finally, she heard an engine revving in the distance. Was it Charlotte?

  It grew louder and louder. Annie gave into the hope brimming inside her.

  Please, please, let this be her.

  Headlights appeared suddenly on the street as a vehicle turned quickly onto Annie's street. The light blinded Annie, and she couldn't see what vehicle it was. Whoever it was, they had now seen Annie. She jumped to her feet and stood waiting on the side of the road.

  The car slowed down as it approached her. Annie held her breath. As the car decelerated, it lurched forward, moving jerkily.

  Annie smiled. It was definitely Charlotte.

  The Porsche came to a stop right in front of her. Charlotte opened the driver's door and stepped out, hurrying over to her best friend.

  “I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry, Annie!”

  Somewhere behind them, the front door to one of the houses opened, reminding both of them that the Porsche attracted attention and danger wherever it went.

  “There's no time for that!” Annie said as she ran around to the driver's side. “Just get in!”

  Annie started the car and took off just as Charlotte was shutting the passenger side door. She drove a block, then turned left down a side street. They headed away from the gun battle raging to their right. Silently, she said goodbye to her neighborhood. She didn't know if she would ever be back.

  Annie felt tears forming in her eyes, but she forced them back. She didn't have time for nostalgia.

  Charlotte groaned. “I've had a hell of a time getting back here. First, I had to get away from those guys who were coming after me in front of your house. Then I went too close to that war zone a few streets down. They started shooting at me!”

  Annie glanced at her. “You're not hurt, are you?”

  “No, but I got scared out of my mind when they started shooting at me over there. Look!” Charlotte held out her hand to demonstrate its shakiness.

  Annie gave her hand a squeeze. “Well, I'm glad you made it back to pick me up. I was afraid you had gotten lost. Or that you had decided to ditch me!”

  Charlotte scoffed. “I'd never leave you, Annie!” She leaned back in her seat. “Besides, I much prefer riding shotgun. Who else is going to chauffeur me around?”

  “Very funny,” Annie said.

  Charlotte looked at her. “Those people were in your house, weren't they?”

  Annie drew a deep breath and blew it out.

  “Yes. They had broken in.”

  “What are they doing in there?”

  “Breaking the framed pictures of me and Jack, from what I could hear.” Annie shrugged. “I guess they're living there now. They even took Jack's gun.”

  Charlotte shook her head. “But how did you get in there?”

  “They must have been in the backyard when we pulled up,” Annie said. “They must not have heard us over the sound of gunshots coming from that gunfight. And I went in the side entrance, so they didn't see me. I went straight upstairs to look for the gun. And that's when I heard them come in from the back.”

  Annie paused, remembering the scare sh
e'd had earlier. “I was terrified! I was trapped in there, up in the bedroom. I thought they would find me!”

  “And they ran outside when they heard me pull off in the Porsche, I guess,” Charlotte said.

  Annie nodded. She steered the vehicle onto the highway headed west. “I'm just ready to get out of here. It's too dangerous in the city. Maybe things will be better outside of Austin.”

  “I hope so,” Charlotte said as she settled back in her seat. “Maybe the EMP didn't hit the small towns. Oh, wouldn't that be great if we had electricity and phones out there?”

  “Yeah, it would,” Annie said.

  But she didn't say anything more about the subject. She didn't want to get her hopes up.

  As they traveled west through the outskirts of Austin, Annie picked up speed. Before long, they were outside the city limits. Houses and businesses were getting sparser, from what Annie could make out in the dark. She felt her tension decrease a bit. There weren't any more gangs of people chasing after them. No more gunfights on the streets – at least not any they saw right then.

  They had made the right decision to leave the city.

  Soon, they began to enter the Texas Hill Country, with its rolling hills, winding roads, and rocky terrain dotted with junipers, cactus and oaks.

  But everywhere they looked, there were still signs of the EMP having hit. Abandoned vehicles on the road. Farmhouses with all the lights out. And every now and then, a dead body. Annie tried not to look at those.

  Finally, they came to a deserted stretch of road over an hour outside of Austin. Here, there was almost nothing around. It was an isolated, desolate area. They rode several miles without seeing a single building.

  It was the middle of the night, and they were both exhausted. Annie looked forward to getting to the ranch house in a couple of hours. She knew the place well. She and Charlotte could have their own bedrooms, each outfitted with a comfortable bed. And there were clean linens in the closet. No one had lived in the house for years – since Jack's mother had died – but she and Jack went there frequently. They kept it up. It was a comfortable, well-maintained home.

  She looked forward to collapsing in a nice bed. She didn't know how they would survive long-term. What they would do for food and water, or how long it would take Jack to make it home. But at least she and Charlotte would be all right for the time being. They would be safe and off the street at last.

  She was thinking of that bed as she came over the crest of a steep hill.

  And that was when the semi came into her view.

  Halfway down the hill, an eighteen-wheeler was parked almost horizontally across the road. And Annie's Porsche was headed right for it.

  Instinctively, Annie slammed on the brakes. But she wouldn't stop quickly enough.

  She jerked the steering wheel to the left, seeing a small opening on that side of the truck.

  If she could just fit through that space. . .

  But the Porsche handled differently than what Annie was used to.

  She lost control of the vehicle. The car skidded off the road.

  The car slid into the deep ditch on the left side.

  It came to a sudden stop.

  Annie gasped for air. It felt like the breath had been knocked out of her. Beside her, Charlotte was panting as well. She sat frozen in the passenger seat, bracing herself on the seat.

  Annie turned to her with round eyes. “Are you okay?”

  “I think so,” Charlotte said. “Just scared as hell. Are you?”

  “Yeah,” Annie said. “That was a close one. I just knew we were going to smash into that truck.”

  They sat there for a few moments, trying to calm themselves after the fright. Finally, Annie shifted the car into first gear, and tried to take off.

  The car wouldn't budge.

  Annie tried a couple more times. It was no use.

  The car was stuck.

  “Dammit,” Annie said as she pounded the steering wheel. She sighed.

  “Well, let's get out and push.”

  They got out of the Porsche and could quickly see the extent of the damage.

  The car was on an angled slope. The right side was significantly higher than the left. And it was situated precariously in the ditch.

  Annie's muscles began to hurt. She felt herself tense up all over.

  The car didn't look good.

  They tried pushing together, then they tried with Charlotte pushing and Annie at the wheel. Then with Charlotte at the wheel.

  Then the two of them together, again.

  All their efforts had only dug the tires deeper into the soft earth. It was wet from recent rains, and the ground gave way easily. They had nothing to put under the tires to improve the situation, either.

  It was hopeless.

  The Porsche was stuck.

  16

  Jack's eyes moved between the man in front of him and his revolver.

  Jack had his own pistol trained on the guy. But off to the side, he could hear shouts and movement as the other men within the junkyard came running over.

  Behind Jack came a voice, surprising them both.

  “Drop it.”

  Brent came to a stop beside Jack.

  He aimed his gun with both hands at the man threatening Jack.

  In the split second of surprise, Jack fired.

  It hit the man, and he fell backward.

  The man fired his own gun, but it went wide and missed both Jack and Brent.

  At nearly the same instant, Brent fired his pistol. But he didn't aim properly and he missed wildly. He stumbled back from the recoil.

  Jack fired his gun again, shooting the man dead.

  “Run!” he ordered Brent.

  The two of them took off running toward the highway. They crossed the exposed distance along the fence.

  Two or three men in the junkyard began firing at them. A few rounds hit the ground near them or ricocheted off the fence.

  Once Jack and Brent made it to the stand of trees, they took cover.

  “You don't know how to use that,” Jack said quickly, fearing Brent would shoot Jack or himself accidentally. “Keep it pointed down!”

  The men on the other side of the fence had gotten too close. They were standing in the open of the junkyard now, where the moonlight illuminated them.

  Jack aimed at one of them and squeezed the trigger.

  He missed. He fired twice more.

  The guy fell.

  The other one kept firing.

  “Go,” he told Brent as he aimed at the shooter. “Get out of here!”

  Brent couldn't help him now – he was just a hindrance at this point.

  Brent hesitated.

  “Go!”

  Brent took off.

  Jack fired at the man in the yard, then ran ahead to take cover behind another tree.

  His heart was pounding in his head. He was running low on ammo, he knew.

  Every shot had to count.

  He held his fire, hoping that it was too dark for the remaining man to see him. He had lost track of where his opponent was.

  Suddenly, more shots came from within the yard. The guy had moved again, but Jack could see where he was from the muzzle flash of his firearm.

  Jack took a breath. Everything was riding on this.

  He steadied his arm and fired once.

  He could hear the man fall to the ground, followed by his pistol a split second later as his arm splayed out to the side.

  Jack waited, trying to calm his breathing.

  The junkyard was silent. The three shooters appeared to be dead.

  But what about the leader, the man wearing boots?

  Jack shifted his gaze toward the office. It was quiet.

  Perhaps he had a chance at that Pathfinder after all.

  Moving quietly but efficiently, he crept through the stand of trees back toward the office. From his new position, he could see the three men's bodies lying on the ground in the moonlight.

  Jack ran
across the exposed area, then got to the concrete wall once more. He stopped and listened. Still, no sound

  Slowly, carefully, Jack moved farther along the wall. Then, just as he rounded the corner, he froze. Someone was moving inside the office.

  The boots clicked as the man ran across the concrete floor, then out the back door. Jack moved toward the window and watched as the man ran outside.

  He listened as he heard a car door open.

  The Pathfinder! The man was going to escape!

  Jack entered the office quickly and glanced around. It was empty. He approached the back door, keeping his back flat against the wall.

  He was prepared to fire. He was prepared to fight for the car.

  Suddenly, two shots broke the silence of the night.

  Someone outside in the yard had fired.

  Jack crouched down, ready to shoot. He leaned forward, just a bit, to look out the back door.

  The man with the boots was staggering backward against the Pathfinder. His arm fell limply at his side, and his gun fell to the ground.

  Finally, he fell to the dirt as well – first his knees, then his torso, then his head with a dull thud.

  Jack scanned for the shooter.

  Off to the side, just ten feet from the vehicle, lay the beaten, bloodied man they had just been torturing minutes before. He lay in the dirt where they had left him.

  Apparently, his captors hadn't finished the job of killing him.

  He had used the last strength in his body to prop himself up and shoot at the man wearing boots. Now, he fell down into the dirt once more.

  He groaned. It took Jack a moment to realize the man was trying to form words.

  Slowly, Jack opened the door into the yard and inched out. He scanned the entire space, looking for any threats.

  “Shoot me,” begged the man, and Jack realized the man was speaking to him. “Can't do it myself. End it for me.”

  Jack cautiously approached the man. When he was close enough to see him, his stomach turned. He was so disfigured, it was a wonder he was still alive.