Impact: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival series (Cloverdale Book 1) Read online

  “Come on. Let’s see what we can salvage.” She was already halfway out of the truck before Cy could argue with her. He shifted into neutral and killed the engine, letting the Toyota drift the last couple of inches until it came to an abrupt stop against the curb in front of the drug store.

  “We need to try to find oxygen for your son and anything else we can save that might be useful,” Reese shouted back to the couple in the truck bed. The mother was still holding the boy closely and didn’t bother looking up.

  “I’ll help.” The man huffed as he climbed over the side the truck and joined them.

  “You sure you’re okay to help?” Cy asked.

  “I’ll be fine,” he said through a cough.

  Cy nodded and the three of them approached what was left of the building. The left half of the drug store was a total loss. Several large fires raged, so salvaging anything from that part of the store was impossible. The windows had been blown out across the front, and they decided to climb in through one of the large openings on the opposite side.

  “Watch for glass!” Reese cautioned as she gingerly made her way over the jagged shards still embedded in the window frame. Cy offered his hand for balance as she high-stepped through the window and into the storefront. The shattered bits of glass crackled under their feet until they were well inside. The smoke was filling the place quickly and formed a dense white cloud that extended a few feet down from the ceiling. They had to crouch down as they pushed farther in. Cy’s dad probably wouldn’t approve of this, but Reese was right: if they didn’t get what they could now, it would all be lost.

  “Grab whatever you can,” Reese said. “Water, bandages, anything to treat burns. I’ll look around behind the counter for any meds we might need.”

  Cy spotted a section of shelving that had bandages and ointments and began loading them into a small hand basket he’d grabbed near the front of the store. The man followed his lead and did the same. Every time they finished loading a basket, they would carry it to the front and place it outside the broken window, then grab another and go back for more.

  “Cy, back here. Bring a basket!” Reese yelled from somewhere in the back. He grabbed an empty basket and headed toward the sound of her voice. As he made his way behind the pharmacist counter, he saw a pile of supplies on the floor, including a few small oxygen bottles complete with masks and tubing. Reese, her arms full of bottles and boxes, appeared from behind a large shelving unit. She headed right for him and unloaded them into the basket he was holding.

  “We need to take what we have and get out of here. There’re a lot more oxygen tanks locked up in the back that I can’t get to and the fire is getting close. We don’t have long before this place blows!” Reese glanced at Cy with a frantic look on her face, then started gathering the pile of supplies on the floor and stuffing them into a bag she’d found. He helped her get the rest of it into his basket, and they headed for the front of the store.

  “We need to go, now!” Cy shouted to the man, who was still loading supplies from the shelves. He stopped and looked at them as they passed. He grabbed what he could carry and followed. Once outside, they dragged everything away from the store and ran it to the truck in several trips, hastily throwing it all into the back.

  “Careful with that one,” Reese cautioned. Cy could hear glass bottles clinking together as he loaded the last bag Reese handed to him. The man rejoined his wife and son in the back of the truck and sat down among the mess of supplies.

  Cy hurried into the driver’s seat and started the truck. About to throw it in gear and back out, he realized Reese hadn’t joined him yet. He looked back through the window and saw her strapping a mask over the boy’s face and giving some quick instructions to the mother.

  “Let’s go!” he shouted. Glancing at the pharmacy from the outside, he couldn’t believe how much the fire had spread since they arrived. The flames were now leaping through the roof and some of the side windows.

  Reese hurried to the passenger’s seat and pushed Buster back as she jumped in and slammed the door behind her.

  “Go!” she shouted.

  Cy threw the truck in reverse and the rear wheels chirped as he backed away from the curb. He cut the wheel hard and maneuvered the truck backward down the street until he swung the front end around. He put the truck in first gear and spun the tires again, then popped the clutch. They lurched forward, and he looked back to make sure his passengers were okay. He hadn’t meant to do that, but it had been a while since he drove a stick and he was rushing. He was about to apologize for his driving when an explosion rang out. Several more followed and they looked back to see a large fireball rising up from the drug store.

  Cy looked at Reese. “That was close.”

  “But it was worth it,” she said and pointed to the boy and his mother in the back. The boy had his eyes open now and was holding the oxygen mask to his face on his own. Teary-eyed, the father turned to face Cy and Reese and nodded as he mouthed the words “thank you.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Vince had broken off from the others and headed in the opposite direction. He would check the hardware store first, then Mary’s house. It went against his instincts and better judgment to let the kids go off on their own, but there was little choice in the matter if they were going to cover a lot of ground quickly.

  At the rate these fires were burning, before long there would be nothing left of the town. Without emergency services available, there would be no help, no firefighters to put out the countless fires, and no medical aid for those unfortunate enough to be injured. Even if these services were still available, the current need far outweighed the resources of a small town like Cloverdale.

  He briefly considered going to his house first to see if anything was left, but he decided to put it off. Mary’s house was on the way, and that was far more important to him right now. Once he got to Mary, they could make their way out to his place to see if his house was still standing.

  Even if it was burnt to the ground, all might not be lost. He kept his gun safe in the basement, and it was a good-quality sixty long-gun-capacity fire-rated safe. It cost him a small fortune, and he had done his research. If he was going to pay that kind of money for something, he was going to get the best. The one he chose had a 120-minute fire rating and was supposed to withstand temperatures of up to two thousand degrees. Another feature the company boasted about and seemed like a waste of money at the time was the EMP-proof high-security digital keypad and bypass key. Even if the keypad was destroyed or melted, the bypass key he had on his keychain would open the door.

  The safe was bigger than he needed, but he liked the idea of being able to keep other things in there along with his firearms, so after much research, he went for it and bought the biggest model. The thing weighed 1,250 pounds and took him and Bill and a healthy dose of trust in the old wooden steps to get the safe down into the basement. But they managed to wrestle it into place over a couple beers one Saturday evening, and now it was all worth it. And because of the extra room in the safe, he was able to keep a decent amount of canned goods along with a case of MREs that he took on all-day hunting trips. He also had a few valuables in the safe and the deed to the property. But most importantly, he had his hunting rifles and a couple shotguns, along with a fair amount of ammo for all of them, including the .45 still tucked under his seat. Among the guns in the safe was one of his favorites: a Springfield Armory M1A-A1 semi-automatic Scout squad rifle chambered in .308. He used the gun for deer hunting occasionally but mostly for target-shooting. He ran the gun with iron sights and loved the simplicity of it. He had a steel plate set up at one hundred yards behind the house and could drain the twenty-round magazine in less than thirty seconds with every round finding the target.

  The safe would be there, fire or no fire, and he’d find out if the money he paid for it was worth it after all. But right now, every minute wasted could be the difference between life and death for Mary. His top priority was finding her
and anyone else that was fortunate enough to survive this.

  He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel nervously. It was frustrating not being able to drive faster, but the thick smoke made it nearly impossible to see more than twenty or thirty yards in front of the car.

  As he rounded the corner, he saw that the hardware store had been reduced to a pile of burning rubble, and his heart sank in his chest. Fortunately, he didn’t see Mary’s white Jeep where she normally parked out front.

  Disappointed to see the store in ruins but unwilling to accept defeat, Vince wasted no time in turning the car south and heading to Mary’s house. She was an early riser, and with any luck, today was no exception. She was fortunate enough to have one of the larger properties in town, right on the edge of the residential area. She was a self-sufficient woman and took great pride in that, one of her many qualities Vince admired.

  On her small farmette she raised chickens and goats along with a few ducks. Last time they talked, she admitted that it was getting out of hand and that she had over a dozen chickens, a handful of goats, and a few pigs roaming the yard. It wasn’t this way by design, but she had a hard time saying no and had rescued a few critters over the years.

  She always had more eggs than she could use. With most of the birds laying an egg a day, they piled up quickly. At least once a week, she brought a basketful for him to use or give away along with his produce, although he always kept the larger duck eggs for himself, as they were his favorite.

  Vince made the left onto Lincoln Avenue and followed it away from North Main Street. There were only a handful of houses on this road, and the air quality, along with his visibility, began to improve a little as he followed the road farther away from town. Vince held his breath as he passed the first home and was disappointed to see that it had not been spared the effects of the EMPs. The fire had already reached the second floor as flames poured out of the second-story windows and curled upward toward the roof.

  Mary’s house wasn’t far now, just around the next turn. He leaned forward over the steering wheel and strained to find her house through the thinning smoke. He was pleasantly surprised to see the old yellow two-story farmhouse still standing and seemingly unaffected. He felt a small amount of relief as he turned into the gravel drive and sped to the house, leaving a cloud of dust behind the wagon. As he parked and turned the car off, the familiar sound of chickens clucking greeted him. Her one lone rooster ran over to inspect him as Vince stepped out of the car, but the bird got sidetracked by his reflection in one of the polished chrome hubcaps.

  Vince paused for a moment and surveyed his surroundings. Other than the occasional cloud of smoke that drifted across the property and the lingering burnt odor that seemed to cling to everything, he’d never know he was in the middle of World War Three. But he was, and a quick scan of the horizon and the rising black plumes of ash brought him back to reality.

  Vince was concerned that there was no sign of Mary anywhere. Any other time he’d stopped by, she would be out on the front porch, waiting to greet him. He jogged up the steps to the front door and knocked. It was louder than he meant to knock, and he hoped he hadn’t scared her. Mary had a shotgun and knew how to use it. In light of the day’s events, she probably had it handy.

  Vince was relieved to see Nugget, Mary’s Blue Heeler, run to the door and bark at him through the sidelight. Nugget went everywhere with her, and it gave Vince hope that Mary wasn’t far behind. Sure enough, he spotted her coming to the door. She approached cautiously, probably because of the way he knocked, and he immediately felt bad for causing her alarm.

  “It’s me, Vince,” he called through the frosted glass sidelight. “Are you okay?”

  He could see her distorted outline through the glass as she approached the door. It slowly opened until Nugget had enough room to slip out.

  “Oh, thank God. It’s you, Vince!” She surprised him with a hug and pulled him inside. “Nugget, get your butt in here!” she scolded. The little dog had taken the opportunity to wander onto the porch and was already halfway down the steps. She sniffed at the air, holding her nose up as high as she could before reluctantly heeding Mary’s call to come back inside. Mary closed the door behind her as she sauntered into the house.

  Her eyes widened. “What’s going on? Are these nuclear bombs?”

  Vince followed her into the kitchen, where she glanced through the window that looked out over her back yard and the wheat fields beyond. From there, he could see several black plumes of smoke rising on the distant horizon.

  “Yes, I think so. EMPs actually.”

  “I was out feeding the animals and collecting eggs when it happened. Nugget and I came inside right away and haven’t been back outside since. I wasn’t sure what to do. I’ve been trying to get the news on that little hand-held radio but nothing’s coming in.” Mary pointed to a small black and yellow hand-cranked emergency radio on the kitchen table next to the morning’s collection of eggs.

  “It’s bad out there. Really bad. There’s no power anywhere and…and the town is… Well, the town is on fire, at least most of it. I was in Indianapolis picking Cy up from the airport. We’re lucky to be alive.” Vince shook his head. “The hardware store is gone.”

  “What? What do you mean gone?” She sat down at the kitchen table.

  Vince pulled out a chair, sat down next to her, and put his hand on her knee. “Burned to the ground. Most places are. There isn’t much left, or at least there won’t be by morning. I was surprised to find your house still standing. You’re lucky! We all are.”

  “I don’t feel very lucky right now.” Mary took her hands away from her face and looked at Vince as if she suddenly felt guilty for her comment.

  “Is Cy all right?” she asked.

  Vince nodded. “Yeah, he’s fine. But we got out of there just in time. Indianapolis is in ruins, and from the looks of things, it’s not the only place. The nukes caused a power surge, and from what I can tell, they wiped out all things electronic. There isn’t much left out there that works anymore. We ran into the Morgans on the way back from Indy. They were picking up their daughter Reese at the airport when their car caught on fire. We found them walking on the side of the road and brought them back to town with us.”

  Nugget wandered over and lay down at the base of Mary’s chair. Staring at the radio on the table, Mary reached down and scratched Nugget’s head briefly. “How could all this happen? I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t have any answers, but I do know that we need to act fast and save what we can. What do you say? Are you up to riding with me and looking for survivors and supplies?”

  The expression on Mary’s face changed and she sat up in her chair.

  “Okay.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Mary gathered a few bottles of water from her still-cold refrigerator and grabbed a pair of work gloves on their way out the door. With Nugget close behind, they made their way onto the porch. Vince smelled what was now a familiar odor, and it reminded him of the extra masks he had in the car.

  “Better lock it up,” he cautioned.

  “You really think so?” Mary asked.

  “I’m afraid so. Someone tried to break into the shop last night. Can’t be too safe. From what I’ve seen, you’ve got one of the few places still standing, which means it’s likely to attract some unwanted guests.”

  Mary shook her head as she locked the deadbolt on the door. Vince thought about telling her to grab her shotgun, but he didn’t want her to panic. They could come back and get it later, along with some of her things. He didn’t want her staying out here alone. Not now. It wouldn’t be safe. She wouldn’t be happy about it and would probably argue the point, but Vince would hold his ground on this and insist she stay with them in town. They could figure out what to do with the animals sometime down the road.

  “It’s a shame about the break-ins around town. I guess it’s not going to get any better now, is it?” she said.

  “No, I gu
ess not. In fact, I imagine things are about to get a lot worse. Once people start to run out of food and water, they’ll get pretty desperate. That’s why I’ve been thinking about pooling our resources and making a stand in town. The old motel across the street from my garage is still standing. With a little work, I could supply the place with power and probably work out a way to get running water too.”

  “How long do you think we’ll be without electric and other services?” Mary asked.

  Vince realized she hadn’t grasped the gravity of the situation yet. Vince took a deep breath and looked at Mary. “It’s going to be a while.”

  Truth was, it was going to be more than a while. Depending on the targets and the accuracy of the ICBMs aimed at those targets, it could potentially be years. He hoped he was wrong, but his gut told him otherwise.

  She hadn’t seen the devastation and destruction he had. But soon enough, she would. This was an isolated little pocket outside of town—a welcome sight after what he’d seen today—but it wasn’t reality anymore. Life seemed so complicated all of a sudden. Or was it simpler now? He couldn’t decide. Either way, it would never be the same again; that was for sure.

  His mind was going in a million different directions at once. He wasn’t just trying to process what was happening; he was beginning to come up with a plan and ideas for their survival. He was as shocked as everyone else when the first bomb went off, but he also knew and accepted that they were on their own.

  Nugget was already at the wagon, sniffing around the tires, when Vince and Mary reached the car. She wasted no time getting in and taking a spot on the front bench seat, where she sat upright with a good view out the front window. It wasn’t Nugget’s first time in Vince’s car. He and Mary often went for drives through the countryside on lazy Sunday evenings. They usually ended up at the Chocolate Moose down in Bloomington for an ice cream and a hot dog for Nugget. If the weather was nice, they’d put the windows down and let Nugget hang out in the wind, tongue dangling from the side of her mouth, tail wagging. The dog liked that part, even more than having a whole hotdog to herself.