American Fallout_Book 1_Edge of Collapse Read online

  He entered the snack aisle. Most of the beef jerky was already gone, but he found a few bags on the bottom shelf. He tucked his shirt in and started dropping energy bars, bags of trail mix, bags of nuts, and candy bars down his shirt. When he couldn’t carry one more thing, he headed toward the counter. The female cashier arched a brow.

  “Hungry?” she asked as she rang up the items.

  “A little.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  He kept his mouth shut. The more talking they did, the slower she’d ring up the purchases.

  A loud crash shook the windows. Everyone in the store turned toward the sound. The front end of a pickup truck had smashed into the concrete wall. Was the guy trying to ram his way in?

  The guard ran out and pointed his shotgun at the man in the truck. The driver got out and started yelling at the guard.

  “Dammit, Jimmy. He’s gonna end up killing someone someday,” the cashier grumbled. “Total comes to $130.45. Cash or credit?”

  “Credit. Can I get cash back?” he asked.

  “Sure. But only forty dollars.”

  “I’ll take it.”

  The more cash he could get now, the better. Who knew how long the grid would hold up. If the nuclear attacks were planned to take down the grid, the amount of money he had in his account wouldn’t make a damn difference. He had about four hundred dollars in his Get Home Bag, but another forty wouldn’t hurt.

  After the cashier had crammed everything into four plastic bags, he carried it to the truck. He didn’t slow down or make eye contact with anyone. He used his peripheral vision to scan for threats. As he tossed everything into the truck, a shot rang out. He reached for his gun. By the time the second shot punched through the air, he had it in his hand.

  3

  Liz didn’t smell the smoke until the fire alarm blasted. She hurried through the kitchen to drag the pan of burning oil off the stove. After opening the windows and the sliding glass door in the living room, she grabbed a broom and waved it at the screaming smoke alarm.

  “Is the house on fire?” Kyle yelled down from upstairs.

  “No. I was cooking. Can you come down here?” she asked.

  Kyle bounded down the stairs. Justice, their one-year-old golden retriever, followed him. Both boy and dog sniffed the air when they entered the kitchen.

  “What did you burn?” Kyle asked.

  “Oil. I was going to fry chicken.”

  “Can we order pizza instead?”

  “We can’t even call out,” she said. “And even if we could, I don’t think they’re delivering right now.”

  “Why not?”

  “The bombs.”

  “We drove past Pizza Hut on the way home. They looked open,” he said.

  “If you can get through, we’ll order pizza.”

  He grabbed the house phone off the wall and dialed. The grin on his face faltered, then faded. He hung up.

  “Couldn’t get through.”

  “Busy signal?”

  “Call can’t be completed as dialed. Same as before,” he said.

  “There’s a frozen pizza in the outside freezer.”

  “I’ll get it.”

  As he headed toward the garage, Justice followed. The dog never left his side. Initially, Luke had wanted a dog for additional security. She’d been against it, not wanting to have to vacuum up fur all the time. But Luke had insisted. Now she couldn’t imagine life without the little fur beast.

  “Mom!” Kyle ran into the room without the pizza. “There’s a cop car outside. They’re saying something with the loudspeaker.”

  Liz checked to make sure the fire was completely extinguished before heading outside. She waved at her neighbor Jennifer whose house was directly across from hers.

  A sheriff’s department black SUV rolled down the cul-de-sac. A message blared from the speakers.

  “President Grayson has declared Martial Law. Mandatory curfew is in effect beginning at sundown and ending at seven a.m. Anyone found outside after sunset will be arrested. Please stay inside and lock your doors and windows.”

  A chill ran down her spine. Martial Law? Already? Not that she had any point of reference as to when it should be declared. But still, it seemed extreme. Did they think something else was going to happen?

  She ran into the middle of the street to flag down the sheriff’s deputy. He rolled down the window, a grim expression on his face.

  “Ma’am, please don’t run into the middle of the street,” he said.

  “I’m sorry. I wanted to make sure you’d stop.”

  “Do you need assistance?”

  “No. But, Martial Law? Isn’t that a last resort? Do they think there will be more bombings? Did radiation blow down here from LA? Are we safe?”

  “You will be safe as long as you follow instructions. That is all the information I have at this time.”

  When he moved to raise the window, she grabbed the edge of the door.

  “Wait. What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Ma’am, you will be safe if you obey the law. Right now that means locking yourself inside your house at sundown. When we have more information, we’ll come back through with another announcement.”

  “Please, just tell me if we’re in danger of radiation poisoning. We have someplace else we can go,” she said. “I need to know if I should leave.”

  The sheriff’s deputy sighed. He stared at her for a moment before pinching his nose and closing his eyes. He opened them and gave her a sympathetic look.

  “As far as I know, the radiation hasn’t reached Orange County. We have a radiation meter at the station and so far it’s not picking anything up. We think the Santa Ana winds will blow the fallout into the ocean. That’s all I know. I understand your fear, believe me. I have a family to worry about too. Right now, I can’t give you more information because we don’t have any.”

  “Thank you.” She released her grip on the door and took a step back.

  The sheriff raised the window halfway.

  “You can’t go wrong staying inside,” he said. “Stay safe.”

  “You too,” she said.

  She continued to stand in the middle of the road after the sheriff left. Jennifer joined her. Although they weren’t close friends, all of the neighbors knew each other and liked each other enough to coordinate an annual Fourth of July party.

  “What did he say?” Jennifer asked.

  “Nothing more than the message he was broadcasting. He told me the safest place to be is locked inside the house.”

  “That’s some horseshit,” Kent said as he joined them. The recently retired man never had a nice word to say about anything or anyone, so she wasn’t surprised by his comment.

  “You’re in a good mood today,” Liz said.

  “I’ve got to make dinner for the kids. I’ll come over later,” Jennifer said as she fled the group.

  “I knew this administration was going to find a reason to take our guns,” Kent grumbled.

  “Take your guns? Nobody said anything about taking guns.”

  “They’re going to have to pry them from my cold, dead hands.”

  “What kind of guns do you have?”

  “Couple of .45s, an AR-15, a shotgun.”

  “Aren’t AR-15s illegal now?” she asked.

  “May as well be. You need a fixed magazine. Can’t hold more’en ten rounds, at least until they change the damn laws again. Heard they’re taking it to the Supreme Court to get it sorted. Supposed to remove the pistol grip too. It’s all nanny state horseshit.”

  “I thought you could register them as-is if you owned them before a certain date,” she said.

  “Register them? You think I want the damn sheriff knocking on my door fixin’ to steal my guns when shit hits the fan? No way. Easier to make ‘em compliant.”

  “I hope you have gun locks on them.”

  “Why?” he asked, genuinely perplexed.

  “So someone doesn’t accidentally shoot themselves.”
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br />   “I live alone. If anyone shoots themselves with one of my guns, they deserve it for breakin’ in.”

  “You know that’s illegal too, right?”

  “Breakin’ and enterin’?”

  “No. Leaving guns sitting around without gun locks.”

  “How am I supposed to defend myself in the middle of the night when some punk breaks in if I have a gun lock on my shotgun?” he asked.

  “Try calling 911 instead?”

  He laughed until he’d doubled over and his face turned beet red.

  “Liz, you’re killin’ me. You think the government’s gonna help us when we’re in the middle of nuclear war?”

  “The sheriff was just here. They’re helping us now.”

  “He give you any good intel?”

  “Basically said to stay inside and lock the doors,” she said.

  “Damn right lock your doors. And line up your guns while you’re at it. You can’t even call out right now. If someone breaks in at night, you’d better be ready to take ‘em out. Don’t wait around for the law to save ya. We’re in a WROL situation.”

  “What’s a WROL?” she asked.

  “Without Rule Of Law. Mark my words, the government can’t help you now. Only you can save yourself and your family. Where’s Luke?”

  “San Jose.”

  “Damn.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, lock up tight tonight and hope he finds a way home. Last I heard they grounded all planes.”

  “Where did you hear that?” she asked.

  “Ham radio. Made contact with a fella up in Las Vegas. Nothing’s going in or out of McCarran. They’ve been scrambling fighters out of Nellis though.”

  “The Air Force base?”

  “Yup.”

  “Have you heard anything else?” she asked. “I haven’t been able to get anything on TV other than the shelter in place message. Internet’s down too.”

  “Bet they did that too,” he said.

  “They?”

  “The FCC. I bet they’ve got a kill switch they can use to keep people in the dark. Probably trying to avoid riots.”

  “I would think they would want people to have more information, not less.”

  “You’re still thinkin’ like we’re in the real world. The world we knew is gone. People don’t realize it yet, but this is World War III.”

  “How do you know we’re at war?” she asked.

  “We got hit by nukes. Of course we’re at war. I hope we blow the damn Chinese off the map.”

  “Did someone say China did this?” she asked.

  “Didn’t have to. Only a handful of countries have the capability.”

  “What about Russia?”

  “Could have been them too. Doesn’t matter. Either way, we’re screwed. I’ve got to head back. Just came out to see what all the fuss was about.” He turned to leave, then stopped and looked back. “I like your family, Liz. I know you got guns and know what to do with ‘em. Talked to Luke about home defense a bunch of times. Be careful. Don’t trust anyone.”

  “Even you?” she joked.

  “Even me,” he said solemnly before heading home.

  She cocked her head to one side. Kent was nuttier than an acorn tree in September, but she’d never considered him dangerous. The comments he’d made about not being able to call 911, and about how riots would eventually break out made her gut churn. Tonight, she’d sleep with a loaded shotgun by her side. Just in case.

  Sierra elbowed through the growing crowd in her apartment. Since word of the nuclear attack had spread through campus, everyone she knew had gravitated to her place. It wasn’t the biggest apartment, but nobody seemed to mind. Flowing beer and thumping music had attracted even more people. The party had been raging for hours, but now it was getting on her last nerve.

  Fortunately, the alcohol supply was running low. She wasn’t looking forward to cleaning up the mess. Red cups of beer dominated every flat surface in the kitchen and living room. The balcony was overrun with pot-smoking freshmen. The sickly sweet scent wafted in to mingle with the scent of spilled beer. She’d have to leave the windows open overnight to get the smell out.

  Nina approached her, a pissed-off expression pinching her features. She said something Sierra couldn’t make out over the electronica music blasting from the speakers.

  “What?” Sierra yelled.

  “This party’s getting out of control.”

  “I know. I hope they leave soon.”

  “What?”

  “I hope they leave soon,” Nina hollered.

  Several partygoers cast her angry looks, as if they had every right to be there, trashing their apartment.

  “They’re your friends,” Nina said. “Get rid of them.”

  “Yours are here too,” Sierra said, annoyed that her roommate was trying to pin the disaster on her.

  “Fine. How do we get rid of them?”

  “Throw the rest of the beer into the hall?”

  “Problem, Ladies?” Donovan Parker’s voice sent shivers of lust down her spine. “You need anything?”

  Sierra took a sip to buy time, almost choking on her beer in the process. Oh she needed something all right—him. All six feet of his dirty-hot, tatted-up body. She’d caught glimpses of tattoos on his arms. He even had a green and blue snake coiled up one calf. The ink must have cost a fortune. Not that he’d have to think about money, ever. He was filthy rich.

  “Hey Donovan.” She flashed her most dazzling smile. “Who invited you?”

  “Do I need an invitation?” He licked his bottom lip and narrowed his eyes as if he wanted to devour her. Warmth flooded her cheeks.

  “No,” she murmured.

  Lonnie and Cameron walked in behind Donovan. They grinned at her as they headed for the makeshift bar someone had constructed on the kitchen table.

  “We’re trying to figure out how to get rid of everyone,” Nina said.

  “Why? The party’s raging,” Donovan said.

  “It’s getting out of control,” Sierra said.

  “Maybe that’s exactly what you need.” Donovan put his hands on her hips and started to gyrate to the techno beat.

  As he pulled her into a tight embrace, Sierra gasped. She’d never expected him to be so aggressive. But why not? He could have anyone he wanted, and apparently, he wanted her. She banged into another girl who gave her a dirty look before turning back to her boyfriend.

  “You never know where they’re going to drop the next bomb. We should live it up while we can,” Donovan said.

  “What if ‘they’ don’t drop a bomb on our heads? Who’s going to clean this up?” she asked.

  “I’ll help.”

  “Really?”

  “It’s the least I can do. Besides, I’ll be here in the morning anyway,” he said with a sly grin.

  “You’re cocky.”

  “But I’m right, right?”

  “Wrong.”

  She broke free of his embrace and headed for the bar. She wasn’t a one-night-stand piece of ass. If he wanted to get laid, he needed to find someone else. She didn’t need that kind of reputation no matter how cute and connected he was.

  “Hey.” He grabbed her arm and yanked her toward him.

  “Ouch!”

  “I was just kidding.”

  “My head is killing me. It’s after ten p.m., and someone’s going to call the cops. I don’t feel like getting busted tonight.”

  “I have a great idea,” Donovan said.

  “What?” Nina elbowed past him to stand between him and Sierra. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. Apparently she’d been watching the exchange.

  “We’ll move the party to my place,” he said. “It’s bigger and it’s off campus so no one’s going to care if we’re up partying. Besides, the cops will be too worried about the nuke attacks to do anything about a party.”

  “Sounds great,” Sierra said, ready to agree to almost anything to get rid of the partygoers.

&n
bsp; “But I have one condition,” he said, a sly grin splitting his face.

  “What?”

  “You two have to come with us.”

  “Why?” Nina asked. “It’s going to take us at least an hour to clean up this place. And I want to go to bed.”

  “I could arrange that,” Cameron said as he inserted himself between Sierra and Nina. He handed Nina a red cup.

  “No thanks,” she said. “I already feel a headache coming on.”

  “Okay then.” He glanced at Donovan before turning to Sierra. “You try it.”

  Donovan smiled and strolled past her. He returned a moment later with a bottle of beer. He held it aloft as he made a toast.

  “To the end of the world,” he said.

  One of the other women at the party stumbled toward him.

  “Hey, Donnie. Come dance with me, baby,” she cooed.

  “Duty calls.” He winked at Sierra as he moved toward the other woman.

  “Wait,” she said. “What about moving the party?”

  “If you come with us, we’ll move it. If not, eh, you’ve got a good thing going already.”

  “Ugh! Fine. We’ll go to your place,” she said.

  Nina groaned.

  “We’ll only stay a few minutes, then we’ll come back and clean this hellhole up,” Sierra whispered.

  “We make a break for it as soon as we can,” Nina said.

  “Sounds like a plan.” Sierra took a sip of the unidentifiable drink. “What is this?”

  “Jungle juice,” Cameron said. “It’s my own special blend.”

  “It’s really sweet.”

  She took another sip. It wasn’t the worst thing she’d ever drunk, but it wouldn’t be her first choice. Typically she preferred a more sophisticated drink like a martini or a cosmopolitan. But she’d settle for anything a bartender would give her while looking the other way. An eighteen-year-old with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a low-cut shirt didn’t have to worry about getting carded. And if she did, she’d just have one of her friends hook her up instead.

  “Party’s moving to Casa Donnie,” Cameron hollered.

  A cheer went up as people filed out the front door.