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

Jackie readied her weapon as Peter had taught her on the way to the pharmacy. She pressed her back against the wall next to the entrance, constantly looking through the busted-up entrance for any signs of movement.

Peter drew his weapon and walked through the store in a low crouch. Because it was so dark, he had to use his tactical flashlight. He held it backwards in his left hand as if he were prepared to stab someone with it. Then he placed his right arm over his left wrist. This allowed both hands to act as one as his light pointed the way, and the barrel of the gun could lock on to any target he illuminated.

In this case, it took only seconds to locate a target. He made his way to the left side of the store toward the refrigerated coolers and the food aisles. To the right were things like makeup and sundries. By the time he reached the second aisle, he found several children sitting cross-legged on the floor, shoveling chips and candy into their mouths. Their eyes grew wide as they saw the gun pointed at them, but it didn’t deter them from continuing their snack.

Peter approached them cautiously. “Is there anybody else in here?”

“No, mister. Just us,” the oldest of the kids replied.

Peter studied his face to assess his trustworthiness. Kids don’t lie, usually, he thought to himself. It made him feel better, but he exercised caution nonetheless as he quickly moved through the aisles. Less than two minutes later, he was satisfied he was alone.

He was also pleased to discover the steel cage doors rolled down from ceiling to countertop at the pharmacy were still intact. While access would be more difficult, his chance of finding insulin for Asia that hadn’t been rummaged through was better.

“Clear!” he shouted to Jackie.

“Nothing going on out here, either!” she yelled back.

“Stay there for now. There are a few kids in the food aisle, but they’re cool.”

Peter holstered his weapon and gripped the tire iron. He’d been in a CVS pharmacy dozens of times before. He thought the roll-up doors would be too difficult for one person to open. However, he had another plan.

He made his way to the pharmacy windows. As expected, the counters identified as drop off and pick up were secured with a mechanical, cagelike door that locked in place. He walked past the pickup counter to the small room adjacent to the pharmacy, marked Consultation. This space could be accessed by both patient and pharmacist to discuss the medications being dispensed.

Peter took a deep breath and reared back and hit the glass insert on the door as hard as he could. All he accomplished was a jarring jolt to his shoulder, as the glass easily repelled the tire iron and knocked it from his hands.

“Dammit!” he shouted as pain shot through his upper body. He was still sore from the multiple tumbles he’d endured after his car stalled.

Peter stomped around out of frustration. He was certain this would be an access point into the pharmacy. He used his flashlight to inspect the surrounds of the pharmacy. His mind hearkened back to the Vitamin Shoppe at the mall.

He shined the light onto the ceiling. The front of the pharmacy was identified by a red, curved fascia clearly identifying the space to shoppers. After all, CVS was supposed to be a pharmacy and not the variety store it had become over the years. The fluorescent light fixtures were spread equidistant throughout the drop-ceiling panels. The panels ran through the entire pharmacy area, past the secured counters and outward toward the fascia.

He shouted to Jackie, “Are we still good?”

“So far!”

Peter pulled himself onto the drop-off counter by using an adjacent shelf full of cold remedies as a step. Once on the counter, he held onto the steel-grate screen to keep his balance. His head pressed against the drop ceiling. With his right hand, he pressed upward on the ceiling tile. With a little effort, it broke free of the grid and pushed upward.

Peter stepped onto the top of the elevated section of shelf that contained the cold and allergy medications. His upper body was now into the ceiling. He used his flashlight to light up the space.

“This is too easy,” he mumbled to himself. The steel-grate dividers acted as a deterrent to most. However, for the experienced burglar Peter had become, they were just window dressing.

He took a deep breath and pulled himself into the ceiling by grasping an iron water pipe that ran along the space. He pulled upward, and with a kick of both legs, he was able to wrap his arms around the pipe.

Peter didn’t have to go far to drop into the pharmacy. In less than a minute, he’d pulled himself above the ceiling tiles and kicked his way through into the pharmacy. He dropped his body inside, inadvertently kicking the flat-panel monitor off the countertop.

“Oops, sorry about that,” he said with a stifled laugh. Peter was full of himself. His overconfidence would prove to be a mistake that almost got him killed.

Chapter Twenty-One

Sunday, October 27

Mount Weather Operations Center

Northern Virginia

“Why the hell can’t we do something!” the president shouted at the representatives of half a dozen agencies charged with the responsibility of rescuing and assisting Americans in their time of need. Between his lack of sleep and frustrations caused by an increasingly dire situation, President Helton was viewed as becoming unhinged.

“Sir,” the secretary of Homeland Security began to respond. He’d borne the brunt of the president’s tirades, as he oversaw so many agencies designed to meet the needs of those impacted the most during a catastrophic event. “The fact of the matter is nobody ever thought this would happen. Until the Cold War ended during the Reagan administration, nuclear Armageddon was on the forefront of everyone’s mind. Since then, we’ve allocated our resources elsewhere.”

The president lashed out, not at those in the room but at his predecessors. “And we’re paying a