Brace for Impact

by Harley Tate

  Grant swiveled in the seat, looking for any sign of Leah’s little sedan. It wasn’t there. He pulled the run wires apart, grabbed his suitcase from the back, and struggled out of the car. White curtains moved in the house next door. Grant ignored them.

  He walked up to the front door, carrying his suitcase over cracked concrete steps, and took a deep breath. This is it. He knocked, twice.

  Hurrying feet sounded inside and moments later, the door swung open. Dawn stood in the open door, looking every bit the younger version of Leah. Same blonde hair pulled back in a haphazard ponytail. Same trim figure, only an inch or two taller.

  She smiled and it almost broke Grant’s heart. “Grant! You’re safe!” Dawn reached out and wrapped him up in a massive squeeze before pulling back.

  One look at his face and Dawn’s smile slipped into confusion. She rose up on her tiptoes to look behind him. “Where’s my sister? Where’s Leah?”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  LEAH

  Barnes & Noble

  Greater Atlanta Area

  Wednesday, 10:00 a.m.

  Leah sat in clean clothes, stretching behind her back to braid her own hair. Day four of living in a bookstore, and she’d run out of books on nuclear bombs, water, and edible food. Most of the coffee shop’s supplies were dependent on refrigeration. Without it, everything spoiled.

  She ate the last questionable muffin the morning before. There wasn’t anything left. She’d even eaten the candy in the kids’ section. All the little cellophane bags were in the trash and Leah didn’t feel any better.

  Her stomach ached and every so often her vision blurred. A headache pounded in the base of her skull. She was dehydrated and beginning to make stupid mistakes. It started with a nasty paper cut. Then she’d tripped over a stack of books and cut her knee.

  Too much more and she would doubt her ability to leave. She turned and looked at the coffee shop. The water still ran, but she wasn’t sure if she could trust it. One of the books outlined how water could become contaminated with radiation thanks to the invisible particles soaking into the ground and ending up in wells and treatment facilities.

  The last bottle of water sat in front of her on the table. An inch of water left. Her lips cracked as she grimaced. Three days. That’s about how long the human body could survive without water before suffering permanent damage. One down, two to go.

  She unfolded the map of Atlanta and remeasured her route for the tenth time. According to the map, the Barnes & Noble sat approximately ten miles from the state Capitol in a straight shot to the northwest.

  If she were a bird, she could fly another thirty miles and be knocking on her sister’s door in time for lunch. But she wasn’t. She was human and susceptible to radiation poisoning.

  Her stomach rumbled.

  And easily overcome by starvation.

  Leah pressed her lips together. Ten miles was the very edge of typical radiation clouds for the bombs in World War II. If the one detonated in Atlanta were of a similar size, then she might be okay leaving now and heading away from the city.

  If the bomb were bigger, it would be too soon.

  She rested her head in her hands, unsure what to do. Waiting would kill her. Leaving too soon would kill her. She stood up in a rush and trotted to the kid’s section. Enough drama and headache. Distraction worked to ease hunger pains; maybe it would work to clear her mind.

  The shelves were stuffed with every picture book she loved as a kid. Blueberries for Sal, Where the Wild Things Are, The Velveteen Rabbit.

  Leah plucked one she’d never read off the shelf and cracked it open. It told the story of a girl who came down with a bad case of stripes all because of lima beans. Leah laughed out loud at the hilarious sickness. She wished she’d known of the book when she spent a month training in the children’s unit at Georgia Memorial.

  One thought of the hospital and Leah shut the book.

  She stared out at the sea of illustrated covers and choked back a sob. All the children and their families. All dead or dying. And for what? Why?

  She put the book back and clutched her middle. Was Atlanta the only city hit? Or were the top twenty-five now home to the sick and injured and dead? How would the country ever repair itself?

  Would other countries rush in to help? Was the United States at war?

  She worried about food production and the federal government and the military and police. A million questions burst in her mind like popcorn in a microwave. She snorted. A microwave. Add that to the long list of things no one will remember.

  Leah screamed and kicked at a shelf of books. Half of them fell to the floor. She couldn’t stay there. She couldn’t be trapped in a bookstore and her own head, slowly dying of starvation and dehydration while the rest of world died of radiation sickness.

  Grant could be in his final hours. He could be out there somewhere sucking in his last ragged breath and Leah wouldn’t know. She wouldn’t be there to comfort him or wipe his brow or ease his suffering.

  She wasn’t easing anyone’s suffering. Not even her own.

  Leah walked over to the front windows. The Buick sat in the parking lot exactly where she left it, doors and windows shut. Could she drive without the risk of radiation? Or was the car full of it?

  She checked her watch. The bomb went off around 5:30 four days ago. That put it close to ninety hours post-explosion. All the books claimed the radiation was the worst within the first seventy-two hours.

  If she rushed to the car, got in and drove as fast as she could toward Dawn’s place, how much radiation would she be exposed to? She swallowed. I’ll have to risk it.

  She turned around to grab her things when the room spun. She grabbed a bookcase for support. I can’t make it to Dawn’s without food. I’ll pass out in the car and crash.

  Leah eased back down into the chair and focused on the map. If she stayed on the road with the bookstore, she would hit a major cross-street in a mile that she could take all the way to Hampton. It wouldn’t be the fastest, but it would be the least likely to be jammed with cars and the most likely to have a store.

  Highways were out of the question.

  There had to be a pharmacy or a grocery store on the route. Somewhere ten miles from the bookstore and well out of the range of any plume. She could stop, load up her body, and make it the rest of the way.

  All she had to do was hold on long enough to find it.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  GRANT

  83 Iris Street

  Hampton, Georgia

  Wednesday, 11:00 a.m.

  “What do you mean, she’s not with you?” Dawn paced in her kitchen, one hand on her head and the other wagging at Grant. “Leah has to be with you! You’re her husband!”

  “I was in Charlotte at a conference. I’ve already explained this three times.” Grant sat at the kitchen counter, barely able to contain his frustration. He should be on the road looking for Leah, not fielding the same questions over and over from her sister.

  “We’ll have to go looking. Do you think she’s at the hospital?”

  Grant jerked his head up. “There’s nothing left of the hospital.”

  Dawn froze. “What are you talking about?”

  “The bomb.”

  “What bomb?”

  Grant tried to control his tone. “You’re joking, right?”

  Dawn’s face turned that shade of pink Leah’s became only when she was about to blow a gasket. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re pulling, Grant Walton, but if you don’t tell me what in blazes is going on, I’m going to lose it.”

  The front door opened and Grant turned around. Dawn’s husband Chris stood in the entry, a smile lighting up his face. “Hey, Grant! Good to see you!” He turned to his wife and the smile slipped to an open mouth. “Babe, you okay?”

  “No, I am not okay!” Dawn stamped her foot. “Grant is sitting there telling me that he doesn’t know where Leah is and that some bomb went off!”

  Chris s
hut the door and walked into the kitchen. He gave his wife a squeeze before addressing Grant. “Care to explain? You’ve never struck me as the crazy type, but that car you’re driving is a little out there.”

  Grant gripped the counter and leaned back. “Are you two telling me that you didn’t see the fireball Saturday night? Or the mushroom cloud hanging over Atlanta?”

  “Mushroom cloud?” Dawn snuggled against her husband. “He’s lost his mind.”

  “No, I haven’t.” Grant pushed up to stand and ran a hand through his hair. “A nuclear bomb went off in the city Saturday around five thirty or six. From here you should have seen a flash of light and I would have thought a cloud.”

  Dawn looked up at Chris with a frown. “Saturday night we were all at the rec center having a community meeting. The sheriff gave us an update on the power outage.”

  Chris agreed. “We were there from five to about eight or nine. It’s a big gymnasium. There aren’t windows.”

  “You can’t be serious.” Grant clenched his fists. “You don’t know. I can’t believe you don’t know.”

  “Don’t know what?”

  He looked up at Dawn and her husband. “The United States was attacked. The power outage was caused by a high-altitude nuclear bomb. It caused an EMP that knocked out the power across the entire eastern half of the country.”

  Chris frowned. “The sheriff said they didn’t know yet what caused it and that they were having trouble getting in contact with Georgia Power.”

  “That’s because they can’t. It’s all down. Everything. That’s why cars don’t work and cell phones won’t make calls.”

  Dawn smacked Chris on the chest. “I told you the cars were a big deal.” She turned to Grant. “When is it all coming back? The power? The phones?”

  “Probably never.”

  The color fled Dawn’s face. She leaned back against the counter and shook her head.

  Chris rubbed the back of his neck. “What’s that got to do with the explosion?”

  “The theory is that the EMP was a precursor. Something to knock the government into disarray so it couldn’t prevent the real attack.”

  Grant kept talking before one of them interrupted again. “I can’t confirm every city, but it appears the top twenty-five in the United States have been the victims of a coordinated nuclear attack.”

  “Nuclear bombs?”

  “Detonated in each city, yes. I don’t know the size or the scope or if every city on that list was hit. But I got confirmation a few days ago of Atlanta, Charlotte, Denver, Houston, Miami, Tampa, and Orlando.”

  Dawn began to shake. “Is there anything left? Are the cities destroyed?”

  “I don’t know. One man who had eyes on Charlotte said there were no high-rises left and that the mushroom cloud hung above the city for an hour after the explosion.”

  “Did you see a cloud?”

  Grant shook his head. “I was too far away and it was too dark by the time the bomb went off.”

  “You’ve always been a stand-up guy, but this is too much.” Chris took his wife’s hand. “I don’t believe it.”

  Dawn hesitated, but after a moment, she joined her husband. “Neither do I.” She stared at Grant for a hard minute. “Unless you have proof, I—I think you should leave.”

  Grant didn’t know what to say. He stared back at Leah’s sister, slack-jawed and confused. Never did he consider them not knowing. He swallowed and tried again. “When I was in Charlotte, I overhead a hacker talk about the threat. He said the bombs were smuggled in via shipping containers.”

  Chris let go of Dawn’s hand and stepped toward Grant. “Now I know you’re making it up. Hackers in Charlotte? We’re not in a Friday night movie on cable.”

  “I know that, but I’m not crazy.” Grant’s voice rose. “The bomb probably went off downtown. If it did, Georgia Memorial is a radioactive crater in the ground. Leah could be dead.”

  Dawn shrank back. “Get him out of here, Chris.”

  Chris stepped forward, but Grant held up his hands. “You need to listen to me. Don’t drive toward the city. Stay here for at least another week.”

  “You heard Dawn. You need to leave. Now.”

  Grant took a step toward the door. He couldn’t believe Leah’s sister didn’t trust him. Why would he come there and make it up? “This is just the fear talking. Once you accept the truth, you’ll know I’m right.”

  “I’ll call the sheriff if you aren’t out of here in thirty seconds.”

  Grant snorted. “On what phone?” He walked to the door. “I’ll leave, but you should follow up with the sheriff, the mayor, and anyone else who might know something. This is bigger than a blackout. You need to be prepared.”

  He grabbed his suitcase and opened the door. “If I find Leah alive, I’ll bring her here. Don’t freak out if you see the car.”

  Dawn stood in the kitchen, her arms wrapped around her body just like Leah did when she was scared. Chris waited in the living room, watching Grant leave.

  He took the steps two at a time and yanked the door to the Cutlass open so hard it almost swung back and hit him. If they didn’t know where Leah was, he couldn’t stay. But the doubt stung.

  Would other people act the same way? Did any small town without access to radios or other communications not know what had happened?

  Grant slid into the driver’s seat and started up the car. He didn’t know where to go or what to do. He checked the time. Noon. Over ninety hours after the explosion.

  Could he risk a trip to the city? He glanced at the gas gauge. Half a tank. He didn’t know where Leah could be or what he’d find inside the city limits, but he had to try.

  His wife was out there somewhere, and she needed him. Grant put the car in reverse and eased back onto the road. Retracing his drive into Hampton, Grant ignored the stares of other residents. They could be suspicious all they wanted.

  It didn’t matter now. At the stop sign on the edge of town, Grant sucked in a deep breath and turned south. A sign beside the road proclaimed Atlanta, 39 Miles. Grant passed it and exhaled.

  Hold on Leah, I’m coming.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  LEAH

  State Road 108

  Northern Georgia

  Wednesday, 12:00 p.m.

  Standing at the front door to the bookstore, Leah hesitated. Once she opened the door, there was no going back. She would be out in the world, exposed to whatever radiation was still in the air.

  Another wave of vertigo overcame her and she grabbed the door for support. I don’t have a choice. I have to go.

  She’d never been good at skipping meals. Combining a fast metabolism and a demanding job, Leah burned more calories than the average woman her size. If she didn’t eat regularly, she passed out.

  With a deep breath, she pushed the door open and headed for the Buick. It seemed so far away. The broken asphalt crunched beneath her feet and she picked up the pace, running across the rest of the parking lot.

  Halfway to the car, she let out the last air from the bookstore and inhaled. The outside air didn’t smell any different. A little colder, but that was all. Am I breathing in radiation? Am I killing myself?

  Leah reached the car, threw herself and her bag inside, and slammed the door. She didn’t feel any safer inside the oversized metal can. Thanks to fifty years on the road, it probably had as many holes in it as a colander. She glanced up at the bookstore. Too late to turn back now.

  The car started as soon as she turned the key.

  She drove in a wide arc, angling through the parking lot and onto the road. The street headed due north and Leah followed it, focusing on the blacktop in front of her. As long as she focused on the road, the waves of dizziness were manageable.

  When she glanced in the rearview, the world wobbled and her stomach threatened to heave. Gagging on sticky spit, Leah scanned the buildings she passed for possibilities. More subdivisions, more side streets, nothing that would help.

  Anothe
r major cross street loomed ahead. A gas station sat on the corner. She slowed as if to stop for the non-existent red light. Could she break in?

  Bars covered the windows and the front door of the mini-mart. She thought about how hard it was to get inside the bookstore. Add in metal bars and Leah pushed the gas pedal. She needed somewhere easy. Across the street, a Walgreens with a drive-through took up the next parking lot, its sign that usually scrolled with sales and health alerts black and empty.

  Cars occupied two parking spaces: an electric with the cord from the charging station still plugged into the port, and a five-year-old Honda. Neither would be working now. Leah stopped on the road and stared at the building. Were the owners of the cars inside? Would they let her in?

  Bars covered one of the folding doors, but not the other. The exposed door tilted awkwardly in the track, like it had been forced apart and then haphazardly shoved back together. Leah glanced at the tire iron sitting atop her duffel in the passenger seat. It wasn’t much protection.

  She drove on.

  The strip mall just past the pharmacy housed a restaurant and a clothing boutique and a business aimed at helping kids with math. None of them were viable.

  With every rejected option, Leah’s frustration grew. Driving straight to Dawn’s became more and more attractive. She could make it in a couple hours if the roads were mostly clear. But what if she couldn’t? What if she met an obstacle she couldn’t avoid?

  If she were stuck on the road until dark with no food and no water, it would be bad. She might pass out or do something stupid.

  No. I need to eat.

  Leah pushed on, eyes focused on the side of the road. A Waffle House sat tucked between a car wash and an apartment complex. Leah brightened. If anywhere were still open and serving food, it would be a Waffle House. As she slowed to turn in, a large, handwritten sign caught her eye.

  We Are Out of Food!