Survive the Panic

by Harley Tate

  Grant turned to Leah. “You’re sure you’ll be all right?”

  She nodded. “We’ll be fine. Faith will let us know if anyone’s snooping around.”

  “And if they are?”

  “I’ll scare them off.”

  “Good.” Grant leaned in and kissed her quickly on the lips before hustling to the stairs. He rummaged through his drawers before changing into clothes similar to Dan’s. By the time he returned, Dan was in the garage, wrestling with the milk crate attached to the back of the bike.

  Grant helped him take it off. Dan opened the garage door and Grant wheeled the bike out into the evening light. He glanced at Dan before turning back to the bike. “It won’t be comfortable.”

  “As long as you don’t throw me off, I’ll be fine.”

  Grant eased one leg over the seat and slid as far forward as he could go. Dan clambered on behind. His belly brushed Grant’s back, his thighs were uncomfortably close, and all Grant could think of were family sitcoms that would never air again.

  “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  Grant revved the engine to life and eased onto the road before they had a chance to change their minds.

  Chapter Ten

  LEAH

  2078 Rose Valley Lane

  Smyrna, Georgia

  Monday, 5:30 p.m.

  Leah shut the single slat she could reach in the dining room window before walking back into the living room. Susie and Oliver sat on the couch, one cushion apart, looking every bit as uneasy as she felt.

  She closed her eyes and leaned against the wall. So much had happened in the last week, but it still didn’t feel real. Every morning she woke up expecting the world to be back to normal and all of this to be some sort of terrible dream.

  Leah reached up and felt the skin around her stitches. There was no avoiding the reality of the situation with a still-healing head wound.

  She pushed off the wall and headed into the kitchen. After scooping up three glasses, she pulled the last bottle of wine off the counter.

  With a smile on her face five times bigger than her mood, she held up her spoils. “Who wants a glass of wine?”

  Susie glanced at Oliver. “Do you think we should?”

  “If we don’t lighten it up at least a little bit around here, I’m going to lose my mind.” Leah set the glasses on the coffee table and unscrewed the wine. “Remind me when we find a grocery store to look for screw-top bottles. We can open these anywhere.”

  Oliver waited until Leah filled up all three glasses before picking one up. “I’ve never been a wine drinker.”

  Leah picked up her glass in a toast. “Here’s to trying something new. It’s one of the few things still good without refrigeration.”

  Susie lifted her glass as well and clinked it against the others. “To new adventures and new friends.”

  Leah gulped down a mouthful and exhaled. A breather. Maybe that was all she needed. She leaned back in the overstuffed chair and days of built-up tension slid off her shoulders.

  “Tell me, Oliver. What did you do for a living?”

  He grimaced as he sipped a bit of the wine. “Mostly freelance web design. Some backend hosting support, too.” After another gulp, he shrugged. “Guess I’ll be looking for a new job.”

  Grant worked in the computer field, too, but he wasn’t hopeless without the internet. Thanks to his prior military service and general awareness, he could adapt. But Oliver was starting from scratch.

  If they didn’t restore order or power soon, how would he take care of himself? She glanced at Susie. How would anyone?

  “I’m afraid I’m almost as useless.” As if Susie read Leah’s mind, she apologized. “I worked at the local nursery.”

  “But that means you know what grows here and what doesn’t. And I’ve seen your garden.” Leah shook her head. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

  Susie tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “But I can’t defend myself. The way you and Grant stood up to Greg—I could never do something like that.”

  “You can if you put your mind to it.”

  Susie frowned. “It’s not that easy.”

  “When those men were in front of the sporting goods store, I almost got us all killed.” Oliver shuddered. “I didn’t think they’d actually try to hurt us.”

  Leah swallowed. Grant had only told her the vaguest of details about that interaction. For once, she was glad he held back.

  Oliver sipped more wine before holding up the glass. “The more you drink it, the better it gets.”

  Everyone laughed. Leah wished it could always be this easy. No fights. No threats. Nothing except good friends and good company. But it would never be this simple. Not for a long time.

  Susie scooted forward on the couch. “So after Kennesaw State, where should we go?”

  Oliver glanced her way. “What do you mean?”

  “To live. We can’t stay at a college forever.”

  Leah thought about her sister and the little town of Hampton. There had to be others like it all over north Georgia. “I’m sure we can find a small town that will accept us.”

  “But without power, what good will they be?” Oliver flopped back on the couch. “We should head north to Canada. They have power and a functioning government. It’ll be like the bombs never went off.”

  “Until three hundred million of our closest friends try to do the same thing. The borders have to be swarmed already.”

  Oliver sagged. “I suppose you’re right. They’ve probably gone on lockdown. No more migrants. Mexico’s probably done the same thing.”

  “Wouldn’t they want to help?”

  “Only until their own countries were harmed. Think about the other migrant crises all over the world. At some point, every country shuts their borders.”

  “Then how about Vermont or Maine?” Oliver perked back up. “They should have power. The EMP didn’t reach all the way up there, right?”

  Leah nodded. “That’s what the reporter said on television. Parts of Florida, Maine, and Vermont were still operational.”

  “That’s where we should go, then.”

  “Vermont’s an awful long way. It’ll be overrun before we reach it.”

  “Do you have any better ideas?” Oliver raked a hand through his hair and it stuck up in all directions. “We can’t just stay here!”

  “Sure we can.” Susie set her glass on the table. “I know how to garden. Leah can treat any injuries. Dan can hunt.”

  “And I can be a drain. Great.”

  Susie leaned toward Oliver. “I didn’t mean that.”

  He sighed. “I know. But suddenly being bad at everything isn’t easy.”

  Leah set her glass on the table. “How about you try and get online? Maybe we can narrow down where to go.”

  Oliver jumped up and pulled out his laptop, punching keys faster than Leah could follow. Five minutes later, he shut the computer with a frown. “It’s no use. There’s nothing.”

  He shoved his fingers beneath his glasses and pressed on his eyes. “If the college doesn’t have the capabilities to reach the outside world, I don’t know if we’ll ever be able to.”

  “Why not?”

  “The satellite companies are operating at barely sufficient capacity to even allow service. It’s down most of the time as it is. The only time I’ve been online the past week was two in the morning with a clear sky. By now, whatever backup power was running the substations on the ground might be nonfunctional.”

  Susie twisted on the couch. “If the college doesn’t have the means to get online, what does that mean?”

  Oliver turned to her. “Without leaving the United States, we’re cut off.”

  Her mouth fell open and she turned to Leah. “Do you really think that’s possible?”

  “Anything is possible.” Leah leaned back in the chair. “For all we know, Georgia Power’s a week away from bringing us back online and the National Guard is just around the corner with
trucks full of food and water.”

  “You can’t believe that.”

  Leah closed her eyes. “Not a chance.”

  Faith hopped up and trotted into the darkness of the front of the house. Leah leaned over to catch a glimpse.

  She couldn’t see the dog, but she didn’t have to. The low growl emanating from the darkness got the point across. Leah glanced at her watch and her eyebrows rose in alarm. Eight o’clock already? Where were Grant and Dan?

  Faith growled again.

  Leah eased up off the chair and motioned for Oliver and Susie to stay quiet before approaching the front door.

  Chapter Eleven

  GRANT

  Westfield Parkway

  Smyrna, Georgia

  Monday 6:30 p.m.

  Grant eased the motorcycle to a stop a hundred yards past the entrance to the used car lot. He killed the engine and Dan almost fell off the seat.

  The older man groaned. “Thank God I’m too old for kids because after that ride, I’d never have any.” He hopped around on the sidewalk, tugging down his pants.

  Grant chuckled and turned to the lot. The fencing stretched all the way down the road with no gaps. “I wouldn’t get too excited. Place looks pretty secure to me.”

  “No way. We’re getting a car. Whatever it takes.” Dan smoothed his hair back and cracked his neck. “How do you want to do this?”

  “As easily as possible.” Grant reached for his Shield and confirmed it sat snug in his holster. “And this time, no shooting until we agree.”

  Dan smirked. “That’ll be easy. You’re the only one packing. Especially now that my balls are numb.” He turned toward the car lot. “Let’s go.”

  Grant followed Dan toward the lot. It sat in a transitional area, one of the first businesses after a stretch of overgrown forest and kudzu vines. A mile down the road, traditional car dealerships took over, offering new and used cars of every make and model.

  But this lot wasn’t for the ordinary consumer. With prices in big orange stickers in the low thousands, it was a place for people who could only pay cash, no questions asked.

  If the owner of the lot had more sense, he’d be open with sky-high mark-ups or trades. People would pay dearly for a car that still ran.

  But how many people even knew it was possible? Grant only figured it out thanks to an ancient taxi in Charlotte.

  He crouched next to Dan at the fence line. “I’ll do a perimeter run. Holler if you see anyone.”

  Dan nodded and Grant took off at a slow lope, checking the lot for any sign of activity. From the dust coating the windshields, it looked like the place had been abandoned the moment the EMP killed the power. It was deserted.

  He hustled back to Dan. “It’s clear.” He wiped the sweat already beading on his forehead. “We need something old. No digital components.”

  “A POS, then.”

  “You could call it a classic, but yeah.”

  Dan eased forward and tested the fence. It didn’t budge. He glanced up at the top. “Feel like climbing?”

  Grant scuttled down the fence line, checking the black aluminum for gaps. He came back with a frown. At nine or ten feet tall, with nothing but aluminum posts and a top rail, it posed an impressive obstacle. Scaling it wouldn’t be easy, but it was the only option.

  “Looks like I don’t have a choice.” He stood up. “Give me a lift, will you?”

  Dan interlaced his fingers and took a knee. Grant placed his foot in Dan’s grip and the older man hoisted him up into the air with a wobbly grunt. Grant lunged for the fence, clawing for purchase at the top rail.

  Two fingers on his left hand cleared the lip and Grant swung to the right. His right hand cleared the top and he gripped on for dear life, struggling to pull himself up. After a few agonizing moments, his chest bumped against the top. He practically flopped over, more fish out of water than graceful mountain climber, but he succeeded.

  His feet landed hard on the asphalt and all the air whooshed from his lungs.

  “About time. For a minute there, I thought you weren’t coming back down.”

  Grant sucked in some air. “You could have given me a bit more of a push.”

  “What would be the fun in that?” Dan stood up and stretched his back. “Now find a way to let me in.”

  Turning toward the gate mechanism, Grant looked for any means of manual override. He popped the top and squinted into the dark interior. “Toss me that flashlight, will you?”

  Dan handed a small light through the fence and Grant clicked it on. Beneath a section of gears, he found a red pull tab. Bingo. Grant yanked and the fence disengaged. With Dan helping from the other side, they pushed the gate open wide enough for a car.

  “Looks like the SUVs are back on the far fence.” Grant clicked off the light and took off through the lot with Dan right behind.

  Ten boxy behemoths sat against the fence, back ends grazing the aluminum. Grant searched the row. None were old enough. Not by a long shot.

  He cursed. “We need something huge to haul all the gear.”

  Dan ambled back toward the rear of the lot, behind the financing trailer. A gaggle of low riders with spoke rims took up the spaces. “This is what we need. A couple of these babies.” He reached the first one, a dusty brown Cadillac that stretched on for miles.

  “It won’t traverse a river, but it’ll hold the gear.”

  “It’s a sedan.”

  Dan grinned. “With a six-body trunk, at least.” He reached for the handle and the door swung wide open.

  The interior reeked of smoke.

  Grant coughed. “Hasn’t been to the detail shop, I guess.”

  “For four hundred bucks, what do you expect?” Dan reached in and pulled out the for sale sign before sliding into the driver’s seat. He flipped the visor down searching for keys, but came up empty. “You find another car and I’ll find the keys.”

  Grant eased around the boat on wheels and approached an Oldsmobile about a decade newer and four feet shorter. It wasn’t that different from the Cutlass he drove from Charlotte to Atlanta.

  Lifting his head, he searched for Dan. With no sign of him, Grant didn’t wait. If it were anything like the other car, he could hotwire it before Dan found the keys. He opened the driver’s door and pushed the seat all the way back.

  The steering column appeared about the same, but with more plastic housing. He worked the cover back and forth until it gave before fishing out the wires. The difference in models made a difference in wires, too.

  Grant frowned. He didn’t know which ones to pull apart.

  “Quit dicking around with the steering column and pick the keys.” Grant sat up to find Dan standing in front of him with a key board in his hand. He fingered through them for an Oldsmobile tag.

  The key fit in the ignition and Grant cranked it. The car sputtered. “These things are junk. We’ll be lucky if we make it home.”

  “We’ll be lucky if we ever find another working car. Try it again.”

  Grant cranked the key again and pumped, but the engine refused to turn over. “It’s no use. This one’s dead.”

  “Then we have to find another—”

  A screech from the entry to the lot cut Dan’s words short. Grant slid out of the Oldsmobile and crouched on the ground. “What was that?”

  Dan lowered his bulky frame. “No idea, but it can’t be good.”

  “Do you have the keys to the Caddy?”

  “In my sweaty palm.”

  “See if it starts. If we can only get one car, so be it.” Grant eased toward the front of the car.

  “What about you?”

  “I’m going to scope it out.” Grant ducked around the side of the car and low-ran to the edge of the trailer. Thanks to the time it took to open the gate and then fumbling through the cars, the sun had long since passed the horizon.

  Darkness set in so fast, Grant’s eyes hadn’t fully adjusted. He could barely see more than ten feet. Damn it. He pulled his gun from the ho
lster and eased forward around the corner of the trailer.

  Nothing moved.

  He scurried across the open space to the first row of halfway decent sedans and ducked behind a Kia. The fence line sat twenty feet away and even though he couldn’t make out more than ghostly blobs near the cars, the fence stood out against the pale concrete behind it.

  The gate was shut.

  Grant’s stomach settled in his throat. They weren’t alone in the car lot anymore.

  Chapter Twelve

  LEAH

  2078 Rose Valley Lane

  Smyrna, Georgia

  Monday, 6:30 p.m.

  Leah peered through the peephole. Greg’s face loomed, wide and out of proportion on the other side of the door. Oh, no. Leah turned and pressed her back against the wood. Nothing good could come of Greg paying them a visit.

  She turned and looked again. At least three men poked around the burned-out wreckage of the truck. From the distance, Leah couldn’t tell who they were, but she guessed it was the posse Greg assembled at the community meeting.

  Not good. Faith ran in a circle around her legs and let out another growl. Leah wished the dog was ten times her size and rabid. Then she could take care of the men outside and Leah wouldn’t have to make tough choices.

  But Faith couldn’t do much more than make noise. Maybe trip them up with some fancy bobbing and weaving. Leah snorted.

  “Come on, Grant. I know you’re in there. Open the door.”

  Leah didn’t say a word. If she stayed quiet, Greg might go away.

  Faith paced back and forth in front of Leah’s feet, sniffing and grumbling.

  “If you don’t come out, we’ll have no choice but to break down the door. I don’t think you want that to happen.”

  Leah closed her eyes and wished for a miracle. Please, go away.

  After a minute, Greg whammed on the door and Leah jumped. “I know you’re in there. I can hear the damn dog.”