Blood, Sweat & Tears: A Postapocalyptic Novel (The New World Series Book 5) by G. Michael Hopf

Author:G. Michael Hopf
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2015-10-30T04:00:00+00:00

Grandview, Idaho, United States

Gordon reached the Snake River and with it a covered natural avenue for him to flee west. Disregarding his physical condition, he pushed west, stopping along the way to adjust his gear and take short breaks. Accustomed to the luxury of having a phone, he was distraught when he found his phone was broken, more than likely from the fall. Unable to communicate, tired, aching and hungry, he kept moving.

With his hunger plaguing him, he stopped on the outskirts of the tiny town of Grandview. Being careful as usual, he surveyed the town and couldn’t see any movement. In fact, the little town looked abandoned. It was not unusual, considering the staggering death toll that had befallen the country since the lights went out back in early December last year. The estimates done before said ninety percent of the United States population would die, and from his experiences on the road, he could believe it. Each time recon teams would return to McCall, they would report finding fewer and fewer people, so finding a small town like this empty was not a surprise, but he didn’t just stroll into towns without at least surveying the area.

Feeling confident the town looked clear, he headed in.

To call the town small was an overstatement, Grandview was the proverbial ‘don’t blink or you’ll miss it’ kinda place. With his rifle at the ready, he left the cover of the riverbank and headed into town.

He thought of finding a market or store, but that was a foolish idea. The supplies there would have been exhausted within days of the attack. Instead he chose the first house he came upon.

He scaled the wood steps of the back deck and walked to the door. He peered through the grimy glass and saw no one. He stepped back, ready to kick the door in, when the simple idea of checking the doorknob popped in his head. Grabbing the cold bronze handle, he turned it and, click, found it unlocked. “What do you know?” He laughed. With a turn and a shove, he pushed the door open and was greeted with an intense pungent smell. After months of living in the new world, he recognized the smell as rotting flesh, not fresh but someone who had died a while ago. He recoiled and stepped back outside. The positive was the room he had stepped into was the kitchen, and it looked like it had never been ransacked; the negative was he’d have to deal with that smell. He tore off his pack, found a bandana and tied it around his face. Smelling his stale sweat was preferable to the grotesque aroma of human flesh past its expiration date.

The kitchen was a gold mine. The cabinets and pantry were stuffed with canned foods, and on the floor of the pantry was a case of bottled water. With a vast selection of food, he found himself being a bit picky. His eyes lit up like a child when he found the Chef Boyardee spaghetti with meatballs.

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