EMP Catastrophe by Hamilton, Grace (books to read in your 20s female .txt) 📗

“That’s about the only sensible piece of advice that’s stuck with you,” David grumbled, but Matthew could see the flash of approval in his eyes.

Matthew chuckled and looked into the distance, out toward the carefully plotted trees and shrubs that kept the parking lot from being an eyesore of concrete. The sound of a running motor perked his ears up, and he turned quickly, pointing to the road just past the parking lot as an old 1970s Pontiac zoomed by at a breakneck speed.

“Looks like not all the cars are dead,” David mused as his hand came up to his chest, rubbing at the spot over his heart absentmindedly.

A zing of concern filled Matthew. “Dad, if you’re hurting, take a pill.”

The nitroglycerin pills David’s doctor prescribed were essentially relaxers for the heart. Matthew remembered that David’s doctor had tried very hard to impart the significance of the pills using layman’s terms. Essentially, a heart attack was when your heart didn’t have enough oxygen, which was delivered through the blood. The nitroglycerin pills would let the heart vessels expand, letting more blood reach his heart—important especially if David was having chest pain. A second heart attack was common, especially for the first few years, and despite David wanting to get back to his old life, he needed to take it slow if he wanted to live to a ripe old age.

“I’m fine,” David said, and then added softly, “I know I sound like a broken record, but I’d really like us to find a way home. I don’t want to be stuck out here much longer.”

Worry escalated to fear inside Matthew. His father usually took that tone when he needed something he didn’t want to admit to. Maybe he’d been feeling worse than he’d said. Matthew took a deep breath. Right. If David needed to get home, then that’s what they would do. But how? Their cell phones were dead, making calling his mom impossible. Most of the payphones had been decommissioned by the county because no one used them anymore. Even the landline from inside the antiques shop hadn’t been working. He had to let that possibility go.

Briefly, he considered leaving David with the truck to find a working car or even a tow. Even though he didn’t have enough cash to rent a used vehicle that worked, he could ask for a ride. Or they could bike back to Galena. That sounded more plausible than finding a car. Find a pawn shop, get a mountain bike with gears, and slap all the cash he had down on the counter. Wildly, he considered even pawning the truck—he could always come back for it later once they got David home—but that sounded extreme, even to him. He could even sell whatever he had on his person that would be worth something. Anything except the gold band on his left finger.

David pressed his hand over his heart again, his wince more pronounced.

Well, that killed the bike idea. His father’s wince reminded Matthew that the doctor had recommended biking only for short intervals. Long-distance biking might stress his heart rate above the light cardio level and could put David in danger. No way was Matthew going to put his father at risk in that way. Matthew couldn’t imagine what he would do if his father suddenly collapsed and they had no service to call for help; he wouldn't even know if the ambulances were running or could make it to them in time. Biking was out of the question.

If they couldn’t call his mom with a cellphone, maybe he could find another landline somewhere. A smattering of people still milled around the parking lot. Surely, one of them must have an idea or could direct him someplace that could help them leave Wilson’s Antiques’ parking lot. “Let’s go talk to someone,” he said to David, inclining his chin towards a couple deep in conversation next to their dead Mazda. The woman had colored auburn hair and long silver earrings. Her black-haired companion had sunglasses on and wore a green tee-shirt.

Matthew approached the couple with a bright smile and a wave. “Hi there,” he said. “Car trouble?”

The woman gave him a small smile. “Just like everyone else, it seems.”

“I’m Matthew,” he said, holding his hand out to shake.

“Brenda,” she said, taking his hand. “This is my husband, Jacob.”

“We were wondering if you’re locals?”

Brenda nodded. “Born and raised.”

“Do you happen to know if anyone might have a landline nearby? We’re from Galena and really need to get in touch with our family back home to let them know we’re in trouble.”

Brenda let out a sigh. “Not that I know of.”

“Cab service maybe?” Matthew asked.

“There is one a couple of miles away, but I know for a fact they only service Madison’s city limits. Galena is just too far.” She gave him an apologetic smile.

“What about a bus? Is there one that comes to this area? Usually they’re on a schedule.”

“Yeah, there is,” Jacob put in, leaning against the hood of his car. “But again, it doesn’t service outside of city limits. You could take a nice ride around Madison, take in the sights.”

Matthew nodded, ignoring Jacob's attempt at humor. Even though the couple had given him unhelpful news, at least they’d been kind. “No worries. I appreciate you letting me know. As an out-of-towner, it’s hard being somewhere I’m not too familiar with.”

“Yeah, I get that. I wish I could be more help.”

“That’s all right,” Matthew said. “Have a good day. I hope you both get home safe.”

“Thanks,” Brenda said, pushing her auburn hair behind her ear. “You too.”

Matthew and David turned away and shuffled back towards their car. A passing group of teenagers meandered by, and Matthew called out to them. “Hey, do you guys have any signal? We’re looking for a ride.”

The teenager with long blonde hair waved at him but kept walking. “Sorry, we’re walking home,” she shouted and turned back to keep up with her friends.

David shuffled back to the