Brace for Impact (Nuclear Survival: Southern Grit Book 1) by Harley Tate

Author:Harley Tate [Tate, Harley]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Harley Tate
Published: 2018-02-07T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

GRANT

Rural South Carolina

Saturday, 1:00 p.m.

Grant tapped the gas gauge for the tenth time. The needle hovered on the E for empty. Cursing himself, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before looking around. He was in the middle of nowhere.

No houses. No little towns. No gas stations.

When he ran out of map, Grant thought he could manage by street signs and follow the state roads through South Carolina and into Georgia. It wasn’t that easy. The signs claimed this was a state road, but it wasn’t getting him anywhere fast.

For all he knew, a town could be just over the next rise or forty miles to his west or east. He stared out at the wire fencing separating the scrabble on the side of the road from the pasture beyond. Someone owned these fields, but who?

Farms had gas for their tractors and other equipment. If he could only see a house. Grant leaned forward, squinting into the distance when the car sputtered. Oh, no. Not yet. He pumped the gas pedal.

The car coughed and the engine died. Grant coasted over to the weeds and put the Cutlass in park. He rested his head on the cracked steering wheel.

I’m never going to make it home in time. He pulled out his phone. No service. He stared at the picture of his wife he used as a background and almost lost it. Tears pricked his eyes and he snuffed back a storm of snot. Please get out of the city. Please make it somewhere safe.

If the bombs went off before he could find her, it might take weeks to track her down. Months, even. Grant didn’t know much about nuclear bombs apart from what he remembered reading about in high school history class. Vague terms like fallout and radiation clung to him, but the details were too sketchy to recall.

He sat back and sucked in a breath before wiping at his face. Giving up now wasn’t an option. If he couldn’t drive to Atlanta, he would walk. Walking was only a setback, not a death sentence. He would find his wife.

Grant moved to shove his phone back in his pocket, but stopped. He pulled open the services section and moved to cellular. The phone searched for service, but it came up empty. He scrolled to Wi-Fi. He knew the odds were a million to one, maybe worse, but as the little wheel turned looking for signal… He prayed.

A single Wi-Fi network appeared. Dueling Banjos. Signal strength, one bar. He tried to connect. It prompted him for a password. Grant looked up. Somewhere near him, someone had power.

He clambered out of the car and held the phone up to the sky. Still one bar. He walked ten paces and waited; the signal didn’t improve. Pulling the phone down, Grant spun in a circle. Trees and pasture all around. He would need to hunt.

Grant set the phone on the roof and tugged open the back door of the Cutlass. After

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