Survive the Panic (Nuclear Survival: Southern Grit Book 3)

by Harley Tate

  “What about the bike?”

  “Leave it. If they can figure out how to ride it, they can have it.” Grant tossed the motorcycle key on the ground. “There’s a bike in the bushes outside the gate. Good luck getting your buddy on the back.”

  Grant rushed over to the gate and pushed it open before following Dan’s form through the lot. The kid with the bullet wound shouted obscenities at their backs.

  Dan tugged open the door to a two-door Dodge, three cars down from the Buick. “Meet you at your place?”

  “Sounds good to me.” Grant slid behind the wheel of the Buick and fired it up while Dan cranked the Dodge. He waited for Dan to back out before following him out through the front of the lot and onto the road.

  The kids had managed to hobble over to the bike and the one with two working legs straddled the seat. Grant shook his head. The poor guy didn’t stand a chance.

  As the Buick coasted out of the lot and onto the road, Grant found the headlights and flicked them on. He couldn’t wait to get back to his wife.

  Chapter Fourteen

  LEAH

  2078 Rose Valley Lane

  Smyrna, Georgia

  Monday, 8:00 p.m.

  “What’s going on?” Susie braved the front of the house with Leah’s air rifle gripped tight in her hands.

  “We have company and they’re way less polite than Greg.”

  Susie’s eyes went wide as Leah ushered her up to look through the slat in the window. From their vantage point, the women could make out the two houses across the street, the truck stopped with the row of overhead lights blazing on top, and a gaggle of men lit up like stage actors on a play in front.

  “Who are they?”

  “No idea, but they have a megaphone and they want our stuff.”

  Susie pulled back in alarm. “How do they know we have anything?”

  Leah shrugged. “It’s a nice neighborhood. I’m assuming they think we’re better off than most.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “Watch and see what happens. Maybe Greg will talk some sense into them.”

  Susie almost choked. “I don’t think that man knows what common sense is.”

  Leah turned back to the window. Men from the truck hopped down and entered the light. They all wore masks. Not balaclavas or ski masks, or even pantyhose over their faces like criminals in half the thrillers Grant loved to watch.

  No, little kid Halloween masks. There was a dog, a frog, and—Leah squinted to make it out—a fairy? She shook her head. Their masks distracted from what really mattered: the crowbars and baseball bats in their hands.

  One man separated himself from the rest of the pack and approached Greg, who stood on the edge of the pool of light. Thick dreads sprouted from the top of the man’s head and stuck up above his unicorn mask, making him look like a half horse, half lion.

  He held a megaphone out to the side and one of his compatriots plucked it from his hand. Leah pressed her lips together. Without the megaphone she wouldn’t be able to hear.

  She spun around. The guest bedroom upstairs fronted the street. She reached for Susie. “Stay here and keep watch. I’m going to listen from upstairs.”

  Leah raced up to the second floor and Faith followed right on her heels. The tree in their front yard hid most of the second floor from view, but she could still make out the men in the street through the branches.

  Leah set the rifle on the floor and unlocked the window. The metal thwacked into place and she froze. If they heard her, would they come for their house first? For all she knew Greg was selling her out right now, claiming she had all the gear in here and if they only busted into her house, they could leave everyone else alone.

  She had to hear what they were saying, even if it meant exposing her location. With a tight grip on both pulls, Leah lifted the window. Humid night air rushed into the room, carrying the voices from the street.

  “—don’t understand. We ain’t here for no social visit. Get outta my way.”

  Greg crossed his arms and widened his stance. The KC lights from the truck shone right in his face. “This isn’t some store you can ransack for TVs and new sneakers. Go find the Walmart down the road. It’s got everything you could need.”

  The man opposite him turned to the frog mask wearer and laughed. “You hear that? This fool thinks I want a TV.” He turned back around. “I don’t want your fancy flat screen TVs. I want your guns.”

  Leah shivered.

  “You really think any of the people in this neighborhood are going to give you their weapons?”

  “Damn straight, I do.”

  Greg shook his head in disbelief. “Then you’re even crazier than that mask makes you look. You knock on the wrong door and someone will shoot you on the front step.”

  Leah hated to agree with anything that came out of Greg’s mouth, but the man was right. If anyone tried to steal the rifle at Leah’s feet, she would shoot first and worry about the consequences later.

  Mr. Unicorn reached behind him and pulled something out of his waistband. Leah’s heart dove for her stomach as the man pointed a handgun at Greg’s chest.

  The interlopers weren’t without guns. They wanted more.

  Greg’s hands rose into the air. “I’m not armed.”

  “Too bad for you.” Mr. Unicorn held out his free hand. The frog handed the megaphone back. “Attention, all you greedy, selfish bastards in this ’hood. We are here for your weapons. You have a gun? Bring it out. You got a metal baseball bat? That bitch is mine. Switchblade? Come to daddy. All of it.”

  He took a step closer to Greg. “Or this asshole standing out here like he’s king gets popped.”

  Leah swallowed. They wouldn’t kill him, would they? Greg might be a jerk with a superiority complex, but he had kids and a wife and worked at Home Depot. He wasn’t the head of some rival gang or some mastermind criminal.

  Not that these guys were, either. Of all the people in the neighborhood to hold as ransom, Greg was the worst choice. Leah chewed on her lip. From where she crouched, Grant could take out the guy with the gun.

  But Leah hadn’t ever fired a full-sized rifle. She picked up the gun and brought it to her shoulder to aim. The barrel wobbled in the air. She was just as likely to shoot Greg as Mr. Unicorn or miss entirely and take out someone else.

  And if she missed, everyone would know what house to attack first.

  Leah lowered the gun. Whatever happened to Greg out there, he was on his own.

  The man in the unicorn mask chortled orders to each of his guys and they fanned out across the street, rushing up to front doors and pounding. He clicked on the megaphone again. “Let me repeat myself. If you have any weapons, bring them outside. Now.”

  He stuck the handgun straight up toward the sky and pulled the trigger. The shot echoed through the neighborhood like a massive clap of thunder. “Next time, I aim straight for this chump’s face.”

  The door to Greg’s house flew open and Jennifer tore down the street in a bathrobe and bare feet. “Stop! That’s my husband.”

  Greg moved toward her, but Mr. Unicorn pointed the gun back at his chest.

  Jennifer rushed up to stand between them. “You don’t have any reason to shoot him. He wasn’t doing anything.”

  “Jennifer. What are you doing? Go back inside.”

  She shook her head, but didn’t turn around. “No. I’m not letting you get shot out here.” She turned back to the man in the mask. “If you let my husband go, I’ll tell you what houses have weapons.”

  Leah’s mouth fell open. It didn’t take a genius to know which house she would point out first.

  “Jen, no! Don’t do it.”

  She finally turned to face Greg. “Why not? What do we care if some of the people around here lose their advantage? You were going to do the same thing.”

  Greg looked like he was about to throw up. He ran a hand through his hair and looked around. “This isn’t right. You should go back inside.”


  “No. I’m not letting you die out here.”

  The thief waggled the gun at Greg. “You really gonna let your old lady do the heavy lifting?”

  Greg turned to look at Leah’s house. She didn’t know if he was detailing ratting them out or wishing they would come to his rescue, but it didn’t matter. Either way, he’d probably be shot in the end. These guys didn’t seem like the sort to leave loose ends.

  He turned back to Mr. Unicorn. “You let my wife go back inside and I’ll tell you all I know. There aren’t a ton of guns in the neighborhood, but I know a few houses that have what you want.”

  The unicorn mask bobbed up and down. “That’s more like it.” He waved at Jennifer. “Get her out of here.”

  “What? No! Honey, what are you doing?”

  He smiled at his wife. “The right thing. Go inside.”

  Two men reached under her arms and hauled her back toward her house. She fought them every step of the way. “You’re going to get yourself killed!” She pointed up at Leah’s house. “Just tell them about Grant!”

  Leah’s breath caught in her throat. The unicorn mask tipped to the side. “Who’s Grant?”

  Greg didn’t answer right away.

  Mr. Unicorn stepped closer and pointed the gun at Greg’s forehead. “Who the hell is Grant?”

  “He’s a neighbor.”

  Leah blinked. So far Greg hadn’t sold them out, but that could change any moment. She picked up the rifle and brought it into position.

  “What neighbor?”

  Greg paused again. Leah brought one leg up to a ninety-degree angle and rested her elbow on her thigh. Now was her chance to shoot the mask-wearing man and end this. If Greg ratted them out, she’d have a bigger problem. If he didn’t, then she’d owe him.

  Either way, she needed to make the tough choice. Leah sucked in a breath and let it out, slow and steady. Her finger found the trigger and she jammed the butt of the rifle as tight to her shoulder as it would go. Lowering her head down into position, she sighted on the man’s chest.

  Everything slowed. Time. Movement. Energy.

  I can do this. It’s like shooting a clay pigeon, just with blood and death attached.

  She tensed to squeeze the trigger when Greg lunged. His whole body came forward as Leah fired.

  Time sped up to warp speed.

  Greg yanked Mr. Unicorn off center with his hand around the barrel of the handgun. The round discharged from Leah’s gun, and she jerked back from the recoil. Mr. Unicorn fired his own weapon as he stumbled forward.

  She fell back and shouts erupted.

  Leah scrambled toward the window as the simultaneous gunshots echoed against the dark houses. Both Mr. Unicorn and Greg had fallen to the ground.

  Did I get him? She waited with lungs full of pent-up air. Mr. Unicorn staggered to his feet, gun still in his hand. Blood coated his chest and his left arm.

  Greg didn’t get up.

  Leah exhaled.

  Jennifer screamed. The two men holding her let her go and she rushed up to Greg’s body on the ground, bathrobe flying open to reveal a chemise and nothing more. She fell to her knees in the middle of the street.

  “No!” Blood wicked up her robe as she tried to lift Greg’s lifeless body. “No!”

  She spun on the shooter. “How could you! He was going to tell you what you wanted!”

  Mr. Unicorn staggered in the street. He transferred the gun to his left hand before grabbing his left bicep. Blood oozed between his fingers.

  Leah swallowed. Her shot was accurate. If Greg hadn’t lunged, she would have hit her target square on. Instead, she tagged his arm. Assuming he stopped the bleeding, the man wouldn’t die.

  Damn it.

  The man ripped off his mask and looked around before stalking up to Jennifer. He yanked her onto her feet by her hair.

  She screamed even louder.

  He jabbed the gun into her temple, grinding the barrel into her skin. “Someone shot me. Who was it?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  GRANT

  Rose Valley Lane

  Smyrna, Georgia

  Monday, 9:00 p.m.

  The car bottomed out as Grant turned toward his subdivision. With close-to-flat tires and a shot suspension, the Buick was years past its prime. But as long as it fit people and gear and got them on the road, it would have to do. At some point, they could find something better.

  He slowed to turn into his neighborhood when two pops made him stop. Were those gunshots? Pulling over to the side of the road, he flashed his lights for Dan to slow.

  The other man stopped and backed up his car until it sat parallel to Grant. Dan cranked the window down. “What’s the matter?”

  “Gunshots. Two of them, from somewhere inside the neighborhood.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Grant rubbed his chin. “No. But there would have been more if it had been firecrackers.”

  As they sat idling a hundred feet from the turn-in, shouts flitted through the silent houses. Grant strained to listen, but he couldn’t make out the words.

  “Something isn’t right. I say we stash the cars and go in on foot. If Greg is up to no good, the last thing we need is him wrecking another vehicle.”

  Dan grumbled, but agreed. “We can pull into the warehouse just down the road. The parking lot has some stalled cars in it. These will blend in.”

  “Perfect.” Grant waited for Dan to pull out before joining him back on the road. He turned off his headlights and crawled past the entrance to the neighborhood.

  He didn’t like what he saw.

  A quarter of a mile past the entrance, Grant pulled into the parking lot and eased the car in between a Camry and a Rav-4 and killed the engine. He pocketed the keys and met Dan in the lot. “There’s a truck in the road on Rose Valley with a light bar all lit up. I don’t recognize it.”

  “See any people?”

  “A ton. All in the road near my house.”

  Dan cursed. “We can sneak down Canary and come around to Rose Valley from the back.”

  Grant checked both the Shield and his second magazine. “If Greg has done anything to Leah or the others, I’m not giving him a free pass.”

  “Neither am I.” Dan shook out his hand, now swollen from punching the kid. “After that fiasco in the car lot, I’m not in much of a nice-guy mood.”

  Together, they headed toward the landscaping flanking the entrance to the neighborhood. Grant eased around a clump of bushes and into the front yard of the first house on the street.

  Fifteen houses ahead, the truck’s lights lit up the end of Rose Valley. Grant could make out four people standing in the road and a cluster of moving bodies closer to the truck.

  “Recognize it?” He motioned at the truck as Dan came up alongside him.

  “Nope. You think it’s someone visiting?”

  “Not the friendly sort.” Grant eased around the house and into the shadows before crossing another yard. Dan kept close and they reached Canary Avenue without issue. As soon as the lights from the truck faded behind the houses, Grant took off in a jog. Whatever was happening down by his house didn’t look good.

  The road swooped around in a giant, flat U behind Rose Valley and came back up the other side. Halfway down the street, a scream stopped Grant still.

  A man’s voice rang out through the space between the houses. “Someone shot me! Who was it?”

  Grant rushed between the houses on Canary and scrambled over the fence to his next-door neighbor’s backyard. Keeping below the top of the fence line, he hurried to the gate. Harvey never locked it.

  With steady fingers, he lifted the latch and eased the wood gate open. It creaked and he froze.

  A man stood in the beam of the truck’s light bar, holding Greg’s wife by the hair. He ground the barrel of a handgun into her temple as she sobbed. Dreads spread halfway down the man’s back and in the light, Grant could make out a giant snake tattoo curving over his non-wounded arm. Blood dripped off his left ha
nd as he twisted Jennifer’s hair.

  Grant swallowed.

  Greg’s body lay in a pool of blood in front of Jennifer. She screamed as the man yanked her harder.

  “Don’t make me ask again. Who shot me? Who was it?” His face contorted into a sneer and a piercing stood out in relief on his eyebrow.

  Tears mixed with a smear of blood across Jennifer’s cheek as she lifted a shaky hand. She pointed straight at Grant’s house and his veins turned to ice. “It had to be Grant.”

  The man dumped Jennifer on the ground and she scrabbled over to her husband’s dead body. Sobbing, she clutched at his shoulders. Greg’s head lolled to the side.

  Something brushed Grant’s arm and he jumped. Dan stood beside him, panting and out of breath. “Next time you decide to take a shortcut, pick the old-man-friendly route.”

  Grant motioned to the street. “These guys are trouble. Greg’s dead. Jennifer’s freaking out.”

  “Who shot him?”

  “I don’t know, but she blamed me for the man with gun’s arm wound.”

  Dan leaned close enough to get a look out the open gate. “I’ve never seen him before.”

  “What about the rest of them?”

  Dan leaned closer to peer around Grant’s shoulder. “Logan’s over by the burned-out truck with three other guys. Must be Greg’s men.”

  Grant counted who he could see. “So that’s six strangers and four neighborhood guys.” From what Grant could figure out, Greg and the man with the arm wound must have gotten into it. At least it meant the neighborhood hadn’t brought in reinforcements.

  But could they count on Greg’s men to fight? Grant glanced up at his house. Where was Leah? Did she shoot the man or was Jennifer just using their house as an excuse?

  Two of the men ran up to the one with the gun and Grant’s mouth fell open. “Are they wearing masks?”

  “I’m guessing they aren’t here for some messed-up birthday party.”

  Grant clenched his fist. “We can’t let them break in to my house.”