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

“A party line?” Tyler asked. “You mean to tell me information came from standing in a line at a party?” He scrunched his face in disbelief.

“No.” Lexi chuckled. “A party line is to modern telecommunications like the iPhone, as the Wright brothers’ first plane is to a space shuttle.”

“Ahh, I get it. Like Cro-Magnon man to modern man.”

“Exactly.”

“Don’t tell me we’ll be living in caves soon,” Tyler said.

“Never say never.” Lexi cracked a smile.

“Like the James Bond movie.”

“Great analogy. Well…” Lexi sighed a long breath, exhaling the stress from the past several days. “I guess this is where we part ways. Thank you for your help. Ethan, take care of Becca and her children. And don’t let anybody steal this thing…a Model T, right?”

“The Cro-Magnon of cars,” Ethan quipped.

“If you need anything, remember we’re not far from here,” Becca said. She retrieved an old receipt from her purse and scribbled down her address. “Here’s where we live.” She handed the piece of scrap paper to Lexi. “It’s not a bad walk. Perhaps five or seven miles.”

“I appreciate it,” Lexi said. “And the same goes for us. If you ever need anything, you know where we are.”

“We’d better get going,” Joe said. As he reached for the lever to open the door, the hair on the back of his neck prickled. The sensation rocked him back from pleasant good-byes to the reality they were in a life and death situation. Without showing any shoulder muscle movement, he casually placed his right hand on the rifle’s trigger.

“You put your hands where I can see them, mister, or I’ll blow a hole as big as Dallas in your head with my shotgun. And your brains will splatter on that pretty thing next to you. I ain’t no fashionista but I know from experience that gray brain matter won’t win any fashion or art awards, unless your name is Jackson Pollock, and even then, I could paint better than he could any day, standing on my head with one hand tied behind my back, and make more money which is in short supply these days.”

The woman’s calm voice indicated she meant what she said, and though she appeared to be a country bumpkin, she was self-educated and could debate anyone on current affairs, art, or politics. She was a woman who worked the land, who got her hands dirty doing chores, and one who didn’t oblige to anyone about to trespass on her land. She carried few extra pounds on her small stature; her shiny silver hair was pulled into a bun. Wispy strands of white hair framed her face covered by a wide brimmed hat, decorated in flowers, protecting her skin from the effects of the hot Texas sun.

Lexi moved her hand to Joe’s thigh and squeezed it. “Do as she says.”

Ethan bumped his elbow against Becca. “Don’t move,” he said under his breath, forming words without moving his lips. “Looks can be deceiving.”

“Same goes to you too,” the woman said, motioning with the gun. “You, the man in the flight suit. There ain’t nothin’ wrong with my hearing, and nothin’ wrong with my looks. My wrinkles are from age and wisdom, and since you have smooth baby bottom skin, it’s apparent you’re lacking wisdom. And who the hell sneaks up on someone’s land? Now I can understand why the whipper snapper driving wouldn’t have the brains of a worm, but for the rest of you? I mean, come on. You’re lucky I haven’t shot you yet. I’m surprised the youngster – who also needs a haircut by the way – can even drive one of the finest cars made, by one of the finest entrepreneurs this century has ever seen. Or was it the last century? Oh, never mind what century it was.”

“Oh, God. I can’t believe this,” Lexi said. She lowered her head in embarrassment.

As Lexi swiveled her head to face the woman, the woman said, “Same goes for you too. Are the ramblings of a mature woman offending your pretty raven hair?”

“I’ve had enough,” Lexi announced, projecting her voice loud enough for everyone to hear.

“You want enough?” the woman asked. “Just come on out and I’ll give you enough you’ll never forget. And next time you address a mature woman of stature, you need to say ‘Ma’am’. Got it?”

“Don’t,” Joe pleaded. “The woman is crazy.”

“I know,” Lexi said.

“No talkin’!” the woman yelled.

“Graaannnnny!” Lexi over-enunciated each sound, ending her annoyance with a high pitched eeee.

“What’d you say?”

“Granny!” Lexi lowered the tone of her voice, cutting the word short. “It’s me!” Lexi’s eyes blazed, angry for not being recognized and embarrassed at her grandmother’s behavior. “Is this how you greet your only granddaughter and visitors?”

“Lexi darling, is it really you?”

“It is.” There was a touch of petulance in Lexi’s voice. “And for God’s sake, don’t point your gun at us.”

“Sorry, hun. My eyesight and hearing ain’t what they used to be. My mind is goin’ too.”

Lexi leaned into Joe and whispered, “Don’t believe that for a minute. She has the eyesight of a hawk and the hearing of a nervous cat. Smart as a whip too.”

“You have no idea how glad I am to see you, Lexi. Praise the good Lord. Aren’t ya gonna introduce me to your friends?”

“Everyone,” Lexi said, using a compulsory tone, “this is my granny, Debra Sue. She’s a real pistol, so don’t let her granny appearance fool you.”

“My goodness,” Debra Sue said. “Come on in and let me get you something to eat. I don’t mean no offense, but y’all look like you fell into a cesspool, which reminds me of the time a little boy who came to play with me when I was no taller than knee high to a grasshopper who wanted to impress me