American Fallout (Book 1): Edge of Collapse: Read online

  “You guys see anything?” a man yelled. He sounded young. Maybe in his early twenties.

  “No. Where’d he go?”

  “Goddamned ghost,” a third man said before hawking a wad of saliva and spitting. It landed near Luke’s feet.

  “Let the snakes and coyotes have him,” an older man said. “No point in chasing one man when there will be more coming along the road. Move out.”

  The footsteps receded, but Luke didn’t move a muscle. As he waited to make sure they were gone, the sounds of nature took over the night. Small animals scampered through the grasslands; frogs croaked. He was probably alone, but to be sure, he held his position for fifteen minutes.

  He slowly pushed the tarp up. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, but without any towns nearby, there wasn’t enough ambient light to illuminate the landscape. Convinced the men were gone, he crawled out from under the tarp. He stood and brushed dirt and muddy leaves off of his shirt.

  The temperature had dropped, and although he wasn’t uncomfortable, he could have used a jacket. Unfortunately, his was in the wrecked truck. He couldn’t go back for it. The truck was totaled and he couldn’t risk running into the men again.

  He needed to get away from the road and find a safe place to hide for the night. It was too dark to read his map without a flashlight, so he used the tree line as a guide. It paralleled the road for about a mile. The river turned, taking him away from the road. He didn’t want to wander too far away from it until he could get his map out.

  As he plodded through the muddy riverbank, he scanned the shadowy landscape. When he spotted a bridge up ahead, he picked up the pace. It wasn’t the same bridge he’d tried to cross, so hopefully the makeshift highwaymen hadn’t blockaded it too.

  He approached with the stealthy pace of a SEAL. He hadn’t been in combat in years, but muscle memory took over.

  About ten yards out, he hid behind a tree so he could scout the location. He set his pack on the ground and slowly unzipped it. After shifting a couple of items, he pulled out a Bestguarder 6x50mm HD Digital Night Vision Monocular. It wasn’t military grade by any means, but it did the job. He held it to one eye. Night turned to day.

  As he scanned the bridge, the black and white contrast gave him a two-hundred-yard view. Much farther than he needed, but nice for the added security.

  The vacant bridge stood out in light gray contrast to the dark gray sky. He searched for any sign of man or animal, but found nothing. Perfect.

  He unzipped an outer pocket and placed the monocular in it for easy access. He’d have to rearrange his pack now that he was on foot. But plotting a new route took precedence.

  After scrambling up the bank, he found a dry spot on the embankment under the bridge. He set his pack down then squatted in front of it. He pulled out a laminated, waterproof map of central California. Although he’d never expected to end up on foot, he’d packed several sets of California maps just in case.

  He unrolled his tarp and used it as cover over his head and pack. He retrieved a small Fenix PD35TAC Tactical Edition flashlight which was clipped to his pocket. After laying the map out, he cupped his fingers over the flashlight. No point in broadcasting his location. Even with the tarp cover, if someone else had night vision, they’d easily spot him. The faster he moved, the better.

  As he traced his finger down Highway 165, he groaned. He had to be at least three hundred miles away from home. And that was if he took a straight line through LA, which would be impossible.

  The slow burn of frustration gnawing at his gut intensified when he calculated how many days it would take to walk home. At ten miles a day, it would take a solid month to get home. Minimum. If he ran into any more problems, it would take even longer.

  He hadn’t planned a route around LA yet because he’d expected to make it to Buttonwillow within a few hours of leaving San Jose. But with the detour and now the loss of his vehicle, he’d be lucky to make it there within two weeks. He was still one hundred and fifty miles away from his first real planned stop.

  He turned off the flashlight. Going back for the truck wouldn’t work. He’d hit the trees hard. The engine had to be permanently damaged. There were other supplies in the truck, but he could only carry so much. He’d also have to contend with the people who’d shot at him. Overall, it wasn’t worth it to try to salvage anything.

  At least he’d grabbed his Bug Out Bag. Most of the equipment he’d need for a long trip home was in the bag, but he’d still have to stop for food and water. Trying to plot out more than a day’s trip at a time would only increase his frustration. He’d have to take it ten miles at a time.

  If the terrain was easy enough, he’d try to get closer to twenty, but with so many potential factors to consider, it didn’t make sense to over-plan.

  He could go longer without food, but he wouldn’t last more than three days without water. He’d have to stay within range of a river or lake the whole way home. Unless…

  He flicked on the flashlight and studied the map. The California Aqueduct crossed under Highway 5 close to the 152 cutoff. He’d planned on heading in that general direction anyway, so he could continue on the same route, then follow the aqueduct down to LA. He’d have an endless supply of water. If he needed food, there were plenty of farms up and down the highway. And who could forget the fetid stench of cattle near the Coalinga cutoff? “Cow-linga” as he preferred to call it.

  The situation was still total bullshit, but at least he had a plan. Maintaining a good attitude would go a long way toward making the journey home less arduous. He’d have enough to deal with from a physical standpoint, so he needed to keep his mindset on point.

  Situational awareness and adaptability were two of his greatest strengths. He’d use every skill in his arsenal for the express purpose of getting back to his family. Sure, the journey would take much longer than he’d expected, but he’d make it home eventually.

  In the meantime, Liz was more than capable of taking care of the kids. He’d married the strongest, smartest woman he’d ever met, and had no doubt she had everything under control back home.

  But then again, he’d thought he had everything under control and now he was hiding out under a bridge. He couldn’t help but worry about his wife and kids.

  Since leaving the gas station, he hadn’t been able to tune into any live radio stations. They all seemed to be broadcasting the same emergency message. He had a small hand-crank radio in his pack, but didn’t want to risk using it and giving away his location. Maybe he’d have a chance to try it out tomorrow.

  With too much adrenaline flowing through his veins, he wasn’t ready to sleep. The more ground he could cover at night, the better. He’d have to watch out for snakes and coyotes—humans too—but he couldn’t sit around all night.

  After drinking a bottle of water, he refilled it with water from the stream. Once the bottle was full, he screwed the top on. When he ran out of fresh water, he could use the Lifestraw Water Filter in his gear to make the stream water drinkable. It wouldn’t be the best-tasting thing he’d ever drunk, but it sure beat getting the runs.

  Liz perched on the edge of her bed and dialed Luke’s number for the fifth time in an hour. Phone lines were still down. She’d sent several texts to both Sierra and Luke. Neither had responded. They were probably trying to reach her too, but couldn’t get through. She’d been tossing and turning for the last two hours. Trying to sleep was pointless. Worry clung to her like Spanish moss to a southern oak.

  The shotgun lay by her side where Luke should have been. Her heart jumped with fear. What if he wasn’t safe? How was he going to get home? Was he even still alive?

  She slipped out of bed and tightened the robe around her waist. Even with the hot, September wind blowing through her window, she couldn’t get warm. Fresh air usually helped her mood and her bedroom was on the second floor, so it was unlikely someone would try to climb through it. Hopefully, she wouldn’t end up glowing in the dark.

  According
to the sheriff, they were safe from radiation. She believed him. She’d caught Luke playing with a nuclear blast simulator online once. The fallout zone for a direct hit in downtown LA would extend out as far as North Orange County, but it wouldn’t blow south unless the prevailing wind changed directions. The Santa Ana winds would reverse the normal airflow and would blow the fallout into the ocean. Not ideal, but really, was there an ideal place for nuclear fallout?

  Maybe a cup of herbal tea would help her get to sleep. She padded down the hall to check on Kyle. His door was closed. She listened for a few seconds before heading downstairs. In the kitchen, she put a kettle on the stove.

  While she waited, she tried calling out on the land line. Nothing.

  The teapot whistled. She filled a mug with boiling water. A chamomile teabag followed.

  As she headed upstairs, she heard clicking coming from Kyle’s room. She knocked on the door.

  “Come in.”

  She found him sitting up in bed reading a comic book.

  “Still awake?”

  “Can’t sleep.”

  “Why not?”

  “I think we should Bug Out.”

  “Really?” she asked, amused. She took a sip of tea. “What makes you think we should leave?”

  “Gunshots.”

  “What?” Tea sloshed over the rim to burn her trembling hand. “Crap.”

  She set the mug down and wiped her hand against her robe.

  “Need ice?” he asked.

  “No, it’s not bad. What’s this about gunshots?”

  “I heard them a few minutes ago. They woke me up.”

  “Where did you hear them? Close by?”

  “I don’t think so. Sounded like it was coming from the other side of El Toro Road. From those ugly orange-colored houses.”

  “Those are condos.”

  “Same difference.” He shrugged. “I haven’t heard anything since, but I can’t get back to sleep.”

  “I’ve been thinking about Bugging Out too,” she admitted.

  “To the cabin?”

  “Yeah. But I think it’s too early. So far nothing’s any different in the neighborhood. It’s safer to stay at home with all of our stuff than risk breaking curfew.”

  “Do you think they’ll really arrest people for going outside?” he asked.

  “I’m…I’m not sure.”

  Was it realistic to arrest people for simply walking around? She could see it if they were breaking the law, but if they weren’t, it seemed a bit extreme. It wasn’t like there were huge mobs of people running around firing off shotguns with one hand while holding blazing makeshift torches in the other. As far as she knew, there weren’t any machete-wielding maniacs—yet.

  But would there be? The possibility of a lawless world seemed unfathomable when she’d woken up that morning; now, she wasn’t so sure.

  The pop-pop-pop of gunshots broke through the silence.

  “Did you hear that?” Kyle asked, eyes wide.

  “Yeah.”

  She moved to stand next to his window. Although the shots sounded like they were coming from several blocks away, she positioned her body to one side of the glass before peering out. She couldn’t see anything but other houses and rooftops. She squinted and considered getting Luke’s night vision goggles from the garage.

  Another round of shots splintered through the night.

  “See? It’s coming from those orange houses,” Kyle said.

  “Sounds like it.”

  “We should Bug Out. Dad would have bugged out already.”

  “We can’t. Not tonight. We might get arrested. I don’t want to take the chance. Why don’t we wait until morning to decide? Maybe we can find out what happened over there.”

  Kyle furrowed his brow. He ground his lips together before reaching for his comic book.

  “I’ve got Dad’s shotgun and the alarm system is on,” she said. “I know hearing those shots is scary, but we’ll be safe tonight. I promise.”

  “How can you promise we’re safe when we don’t even know what’s happening outside?”

  “If anyone tries to get in through the windows or doors, the alarm system will go off. I’ve got the shotgun and I’ll use it if necessary,” she said.

  “We should get my rifle out of the gun safe,” he said. “I can help guard the house.”

  “No,” she said in a tone that left no room for negotiation. “The guns stay in the safe unless we’re going to the range.”

  “Or when we Bug Out.”

  “Or when we Bug Out,” she agreed.

  “I still think we should leave. What if Dad’s already there? Didn’t he tell us to go to the cabin if any nukes were ever dropped on LA?”

  “He did, but he was assuming all hell would be breaking loose. Other than those gunshots, nothing has happened. I think we’re a lot safer at home where we have an alarm system and a big supply of food and water.”

  “We have food and water at the cabin,” he said.

  “True. But look, we’re safe for now. No one’s coming in the house tonight. Whatever’s going on over there is over a mile away.”

  “Not very far. I could walk there in twenty minutes.”

  She sighed, unsure of how to convince him not to be afraid when she was worried herself.

  “If you want, I can stand guard at the top of the stairs while you sleep,” she said.

  “I’d feel better if I could have my rifle.”

  “Not tonight.”

  “Tomorrow night?” His eyes lit up.

  “Maybe. Depends on what we find out in the morning. Hopefully someone knows what happened.”

  She used to be able to turn on the news or go online to find out what was going on in real time. The neighborhood even had its own Twitter hashtag and Facebook account. Now she’d have to settle for in-person communication. Not the fastest way to get information, and probably not the most accurate way either. But without any other options, she’d have to wait until sunrise to find out why someone was shooting their gun in the middle of the night.

  6

  Sierra dragged herself across the cold tile floor in her bathroom. She’d spent the whole night praying to the porcelain gods. The shriveled up, empty core of her stomach ached from all the barfing. Her mouth tasted like raw sewage and she stunk.

  As she dragged herself into the bathtub, she considered calling out to get Nina’s help. Her friend had been by her side all night. She’d only left to open the door to Grant who’d come at dawn to check on her. Nina knew him from high school, so she’d asked for his help in getting Sierra home from the disastrous party.

  Sierra had refused to let him into the bathroom to see her. She’d lied and told him she was perfectly fine when in truth, she didn’t know if she’d ever be okay again.

  After plugging the bathtub, she turned the hot water on. Even though Donovan hadn’t touched her, the slimy aura of his malicious intent still clung to her. She couldn’t wait to wash off the evil.

  How could she have been so infatuated with a monster? Was she really so blind that she couldn’t see beyond his charm? She’d always considered herself a good judge of character. But after last night, she wouldn’t be so quick to trust anyone no matter how handsome and charming they appeared.

  The scalding water lapped at her legs. She turned on the cold faucet so she wouldn’t be burned. As the tub filled, she added bubble bath the way her mom used to do when she was young. She’d tried calling her again, but the phone lines were still down.

  It was probably better that way. Her mom would never let her out of her sight if she found out about the party. She’d probably lecture her on being careful. Situational awareness, she called it. A term picked up from her dad’s prepping books.

  How many times had her dad told to be careful about meeting new people? How many times had he lectured her on why she should always be aware of her surroundings? He’d tried to drill situational awareness into her head, but had she listened?

  No.
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  She hung her head in shame. Humiliated by her stupidity, she wasn’t sure how she’d ever face Nina again. Her friend probably thought she was a complete moron for ending up in the bedroom with Donovan and his friends. And could she really blame her?

  As tension coiled up her spine, the pounding in her head increased. She sank down into the water and closed her eyes. When the water turned cold, she toweled off and dressed in a pair of loose-fitting pants and a baggy shirt. The clothes had no shape, but no one was going to see her today. She wasn’t stepping foot out of the apartment until she was sure the world was safe.

  After making a cup of mint tea, she sat on the couch. She clicked on the TV and flipped past the red alert screens. One of the cable news channels was broadcasting from the Hollywood Hills sign. A female reporter in a hazmat suit stood with her back to what was left of Los Angeles. Smoke rose up from the ashes. The cameraman zoomed in on toppled skyscrapers which lay in ruin in downtown LA.

  Sierra couldn’t stand the images. She changed the input so she could watch a romantic comedy. As she flipped through the options, a key scraped into the front door.

  Nina walked in with Grant by her side. They were covered in dirt and ashes. Crusty stains of what looked suspiciously like blood dotted their shirts and jeans.

  “What happened?” Sierra asked.

  “Nothing,” Nina said sharply while glaring at Grant.

  “We should tell her,” Grant said.

  “Tell me what?”

  “Nothing.” Nina faced Grant, her tone morphed into a low growl. “I told you to keep your mouth shut. If you tell anyone—anyone—you won’t be able to justify what you did.”

  “What did you do?” Sierra asked softly.

  Nina and Grant were silent for a moment, glaring at each other.

  “Nothing,” Grant said.

  “Exactly. Go home. Burn your clothes. And keep your mouth shut. No one will find out unless you tell someone,” Nina said.

  “You better keep your mouth shut too,” Grant snapped.

  “There’s no way in hell I’m telling anyone about what happened.”