Deluge (The Best Thrillers Book 2) by James Best (top romance novels txt) 📗
- Author: James Best
Book online «Deluge (The Best Thrillers Book 2) by James Best (top romance novels txt) 📗». Author James Best
She peered intently at her screen and then exclaimed, “Oh, shit!”
“What?” Baldwin yelled back.
“The internet crashed. Damn it all.” The normally agreeable Wilson slapped her desk with the flat of her hand.
“Great,” Ashley said. “No food, no water, no electricity, no transportation, and we have lost contact with the world.”
“Do you have a battery-powered radio?” Smith asked Wilson, ignoring Ashley.
She shook her head no, but added, “I have lots of candles.”
“That’s a start,” Baldwin said. “Okay, listen, this isn’t getting better right away. Shut down computers and phones to conserve battery power. Next, let’s start by taking inventory.”
Smith nodded. “I’ll collect our water from outside.”
Earlier, Smith and Ashley had raided recycle bins on the street and brought back a supply of plastic water bottles. Baldwin had proceeded to fill them from the tap. That is, until the water in the gravity tank on the roof had been depleted. Smith had convinced them that they should gather whatever water they could because the tenants living in the upper three stories above the store were undoubtedly doing the same. Considering how fast the water had run out, he had been prescient.
Earlier, Smith had come up with another survival idea. He took two hundred-dollar bills from Baldwin and went upstairs to the store. Everyone had warned him that the tiny grocery store was likely picked clean, but he’d insisted that product remained to be bought. He shortly returned with a smile and a case of tuna that had been hidden away in a storage room. The twenty-four cans cost two hundred and fifty-seven dollars, Baldwin’s cash, plus everything Smith admitted to having in his wallet.
He went back out and returned from the outside stoop, shaking his head. “Only a couple quarts altogether. The building blocks most of the rainfall. Still, we’ll need to collect it every couple of hours, or people will steal it.”
Baldwin took the pail from Smith and set it on the short kitchen counter. “That means we have twenty-six bottles that I filled from the tap, four gallons of distilled water, and two quarts of pure, organic rainwater. Not enough to bathe, but plenty to drink.”
For the next fifteen minutes, they inventoried the rest of the food in the kitchen. Wilson did not stock a bountiful pantry. They would surely tire of tuna, but they wouldn’t starve over the next week.
When they’d first heard about the possibility of brownouts, they’d immediately charged their phones and other electronic devices. Now that the electricity was off, they left on only one cell phone and put the designated device in power-save mode. Until internet service returned, their phones were now their only connection to the outside world. Cell coverage had failed on the road, but not yet in the city.
“Let’s take a walk,” Smith said.
Well, yes, Baldwin thought, they could still get around by foot. They might get wet, but they wouldn’t drown.
“Any particular place in mind?” Baldwin asked.
“It’s a fool’s errand, but let’s see if we can buy some of those power sticks that you use to recharge a cell phone.”
“Tom, those things don’t come already charged,” Baldwin said.
“I know, but if the power comes back on, we can charge them. I suspect it would be prudent to collect electricity like we’re collecting water. Besides, I want to see what’s going on out there.”
“I will stay here,” Ashley said. “I do not care what is going on out there.”
“Good,” Baldwin said. “You and Sherrell guard the fort.”
Wilson sighed. “That’s what this is, isn’t it? A fort. A small island of civilization that we need to protect.”
“Glad you did the math,” Smith said. “That’s really why I want to go out there. Risk assessment.”
Ashley leaped to his feet. “Do you think there are riots?”
“No doubt,” Smith responded. “But are they close? Is there a police presence? How strong? Are they random or is there a pattern? That’s what I want to learn.”
“I’m going with you,” Baldwin said.
“I hoped you would. Safety in numbers.”
“You want us all to go?” Ashley said in dismay.
“No. A lone man may appear threatening, but a man and a woman walking together won’t draw attention unless we foolishly get in the middle of it. We’ll stay clear of danger. I just want to look around.”
When they got outside and raised their umbrellas, Baldwin asked, “Why did you really want me to come along?”
Smith said, “One, I think Sherrell and Jon are itching to be alone, and second, I saw you slip that paring knife into the outside pocket of your purse.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning you take care of yourself or at least will try. Sherrell and Jon would be a burden. Plus, you have good observation skills.” He walked on a few paces. “Do you know how to use a knife?”
“I did ten years ago. Not much call for that skill at UCSB.” She walked a few paces and then added. “Do you know how to use a gun?”
He chuckled. “You saw?”
“Yeah, I checked to confirm that you’re still carrying.”
“In answer to your question, yes, I know how to use it. I took classes at Front Sight Firearms Training Institute.”
“Ever shot at a person?” Baldwin asked.
“No. And I hope I never will.” Smith abruptly looked at her. “Have you?”
Baldwin ignored the question. “Which direction are we going?”
“West, through Haight-Ashbury to the park. The Haight still attracts an odd assortment of mostly wannabes, but a few are real trouble-makers, and Golden Gate Park provides a good gathering place for people from all around. If everything is quiet there, we’ll head south. That’s where trouble will come from, especially if, as I suspect, police have been heavily allocated to the north.”
Duboce Triangle was a gentrified residential area located to the east of Haight-Ashbury. They walked slowly down Haight Street, seeing nothing worrisome. As they came closer to the park, the residential neighborhood morphed into a funky commercial area. Baldwin had visited Haight-Ashbury only once, when she attended Berkeley. She had found the district no more
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