World on Edge: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller (World on Edge Book 1) by Chris Pike (top ten ebook reader TXT) 📗

On the flip side, he preferred to be stuck on land instead of in the Gulf of Mexico where he would have been when the EMP struck. He shuddered at the thought of being caught in the Gulf Stream, a swift current originating in the Gulf of Mexico, hugging Gulf Coast states, then northward along the eastern coast of the United States, and Newfoundland, stretching across the Atlantic Ocean, until reaching its destination of Iceland, south of England, or into oblivion in the Arctic Sea.

So, it could have been much worse.

Always a silver lining, Joe mused.

They needed to make forty plus miles to the safety of home, where they could eat a warm meal, even if it was heated by a Coleman lantern or cooked on a fire. And bathing in cold water would be considered a luxury after what the group had gone through.

Joe admonished himself for fantasizing for a few seconds. He needed to focus on the situation at hand. “Something’s not right here,” he said. “Turn around and—”

A group of haggard men with unkempt beards and dressed in clothes stained with dirt and sweat rushed the puttering Model T. The majority brandished baseball bats with nails sticking out; others had large knives nearly the length of a machetes raised over their heads. The Model T offered scant protection.

A distressed man rushed the slow-moving antique, his hollow eyes wild and filled with desperation. His clothes hung on his skeletal shoulders, his faced marked with the sores of a meth addict.

Lexi wrapped her hand around Oscar’s collar and struggled to hold him back. The dog barked loud and his jaws snapped shut with the force of a lethal bite. “No!” Lexi yelled.

The man rushing the car held a machete high over his head, ready to strike at Tyler and the other passengers.

In a matter of a second, Joe recognized the threat, and like he had been trained to do, he raised the rifle he’d confiscated from the zoo, aimed it at the man, and blasted a hole in the middle of his chest, blowing it wide open. A rifle meant to take down big game nearly cut the man in half.

The other machete and bat wielding men in the crowd stopped in their tracks. One glance at the dead man with a gaping hole in his chest was enough to convince them to back off. As quickly as they had emerged from the shadows, they disappeared, ghost-like, camouflaging themselves among the debris and discarded wood they called home under the overpass where days before, the hum of a million cars filled the air.

Tyler pressed the gas pedal to the floor, his white knuckles gripping the steering wheel. “Come on, come on,” he urged through clenched teeth. The car’s tires spun, kicking up dust and loose gravel on the road. The engine groaned and pistons pumped to the maximum.

No one could call the Model T a race car, yet the passengers held onto the seats for dear life and anything else that they could.

The entrance ramp to the elevated tollway was less than half a mile away. Tyler zigzagged around the modern cars reduced to stalled, useless heaps of modern engineering metal. To think one of the first combustible engines saved their lives was indeed a miracle.

“That was close.” Joe glanced over his shoulder, making sure they weren’t being chased.

“I thought Oscar was going to jump out and attack those men,” Lexi said. “Fortunately, I had a good grip on him.”

“Thank you for keeping him back,” Joe said.

Lexi nodded.

When they were on the elevated part of the tollway, a collective sigh of relief could be heard.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Joe cautioned. “In ten minutes we’ll be traveling through an area notorious for gang activity. If we’re approached, looked at, or even yelled at, I’ll shoot a warning shot. After that, it’s game on. Everybody in agreement?”

“I sure am,” Tyler said.

“Me too,” Ethan added. “I’m pretty sure I can speak for Becca and Kinsey.”

Becca nodded her approval. Kinsey was too shaken up to answer.

“Joe, I’m with you,” Lexi said. She patted his knee, a simple gesture requiring little effort, yet one which had a profound meaning.

“Good,” Joe replied. “I’m glad to hear it.” He placed his hand on hers, letting her know he understood what she was conveying. Lexi had his back, and he had hers. During all the destruction surrounding them, this was the moment they connected. Two people formerly on a different life trajectory, yet their lives now crossing and intertwining, bringing them together on a shared and unknown path as they navigated the new challenges facing them.

Joe rested the rifle across his lap, taking a breather from the adrenaline-rushing run-in with the armed drug addicts. While he’d rather think about Lexi and what she meant to him, he stayed focused, his mind alert to their surroundings, buildings, large trees, semi-trucks, and anything that could be used for sniping, or places in the road suitable for roadblocks.

It had been several years since Joe’s honorable discharge from the military, and while he was constricted by rules of engagement during combat, the current situation didn’t adhere to those rules. This was every man and woman for themselves, shoot now ask questions later type of situation.

Only three days into the catastrophe and no government help was anywhere to be seen. FEMA? A joke. Red Cross? Non-existent. In the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina where the residents of New Orleans endured unimaginable conditions at the Super Dome, it took the government days to rescue people.

Pure determination propelled those people to live, the same quality Joe and the others would need to survive the upcoming hardships. From experience, he understood the people least expected to demonstrate bravery and compassion and sacrifice, revealed to show their true selves during the direst of circumstances. Hannah was