Nuclear Winter Armageddon by Bobby Akart (ebook reader 7 inch txt) 📗

“Why’s that?” asked Tucker.

“None of the interior lights are on even though the doors are open.”

“See if it will start, Owen,” said Lacey. She continued to pick up clothes and shove them into the back of the now empty Expedition.

Owen slid into the driver’s seat and tried to start the truck. There was no response. He lifted the glove box and searched for a flashlight he kept for emergencies. He found Lacey’s iPod and earbuds.

“Here ya go,” he said softly as he handed the device to his wife. As she took it from him, she pressed the sleep/wake button to power it on.

Nothing happened.

“That’s strange. I charged this before we left. It shouldn’t have drained in sleep mode.”

“Mom, it’s like our watches,” interrupted Tucker. “Something happened when the bomb hit. Remember? None of our watches worked after the lights went out in the bunker.”

“Son, toss me the keys to the Bronco,” said Owen as he walked along the other side of the Expedition. Despite it being the middle of the night, the orangish glow provided light equivalent to dawn.

Owen unlocked the Bronco and climbed onto the black nerf bar of the truck. The tow dolly elevated the front end slightly, requiring him to climb up to get in. He unlocked the door, and the interior lights immediately came on. The rig sank to one side until he was planted in the driver’s seat.

Tucker wandered toward the truck, nervously looking in all directions. There were no other cars driving around. There were no lights in the homes or emanating from the school. He glanced up at the streetlights that were spread out every hundred feet or so. None of them were lit up.

He rushed to the front of the Bronco and spoke in a loud whisper. “Dad! Wait! Get out of the car and close the door!”

His father was genuinely confused. “What? Why?”

“Please. At least close the door to cut the lights.”

Owen carefully shut the driver’s door and studied Tucker, dumbfounded by his sense of urgency. Tucker jumped over the tongue of the tow dolly and approached the driver’s side door, moving his hand in a rolling motion to indicate to his dad to roll down the window.

“Tuck, what’s going on?” Owen asked in a concerned voice.

Tucker looked down and carefully stepped up onto the nerf bar so he could lean into the window. “Dad, there’s no power.”

Owen looked around as Lacey rounded the rear of the truck to join the guys. “I see that. Maybe the fire knocked the power out? That’s PG&E’s specialty, remember?”

“Tucker’s right,” interjected Lacey. “Listen. Do you hear any cars at all? No emergency sirens. Nothing.”

“I think the bomb killed the power, Dad.”

“Okay, but …” Owen’s voice trailed off, unsure of an explanation.

“And my iPod,” said Lacey.

“Watches, too,” added Tucker. “Everything electronic. Well, except for the Bronco for some reason.”

Owen ran his hands over the top of the steering wheel and then unconsciously rubbed the slightly cracked vinyl dashboard.

“There are no electronics,” said Owen. “Think about it. This was made long before sensors and computers ran our cars. You need a key to turn it on. You crank down the windows. Even the radio is that old-school solid-state design. It plays eight-tracks, for heaven’s sake.”

Nobody said anything as Owen turned in his seat and looked into the back of the truck. It was jammed full of camping supplies and survival gear. They’d stored their food and drinks in the Expedition because it was climate-controlled during their trip.

He reached up and moved the small black manual switch that operated the overhead light. Then he instructed Tucker to step back so he could get out of the Bronco. As he opened the door, the courtesy lights mounted in the lower part of the panel turned on, but he shut the door so quickly they were only on for a few seconds.

A gust of hot wind washed over them, causing the group to quickly face east. After it passed, they turned back around as if they were looking for the source. The sight of flames dancing high into the air gave the family a new sense of urgency. They worked together to repack their clothing and salvage everything they could out of the Expedition.

To avoid using interior lights, Tucker climbed through the driver’s window while Lacey and Owen handed him their duffel bags. He crammed everything into the back seat while Owen disconnected the Bronco from the tow dolly.

Then the parents coordinated rushing into the truck so as to minimize the light exposure. Once inside, they held their breath as Owen prepared to fire the ignition.

“Here we go,” he muttered as he turned the key. The engine tried to turn, but couldn’t. He quickly switched off the key and urged the 1967 classic to start. “Come on, now, Black & Blue. You can do this.”

Owen took another deep breath as his eyes darted from one side of the truck to the other to determine if they’d been seen. The orangish glow caused the skies to brighten further. The fire was coming. He turned the key again, pumping the gas pedal a couple of times as he did.

The engine started, and Owen didn’t hesitate. He rolled the truck off the dolly, causing the back of the Expedition to rise and fall as the weight shifted. Because the street was littered with disabled vehicles, he drove onto the sidewalk and carefully made his way to a large front yard where he could turn around.

“Let’s head for Tahoe,” he mumbled as he muscled the steering wheel through the maneuver. He was soon driving down the sidewalk back toward the highway where they drove in.

“North, on the interstate?” asked Lacey.

“No,” he quickly replied. “I’m thinking south, through the mountains and Eldorado National Forest. Less traffic.”

Oddly, his last words drew a laugh from both Lacey and Tucker. Normally, it would apply to a busy travel day full of cars coming and going. Tonight, it meant fewer obstacles to drive around and, possibly,