Deliverance by Smith Nicholas Sansbury

Author:Smith, Nicholas Sansbury [Smith, Nicholas Sansbury]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction, Horror, thriller, Fantasy
Amazon: B0BZDSS5PD
Goodreads: 123510988
Publisher: Blackstone Publishing & Aethon Books
Published: 2018-05-15T07:00:00+00:00

Les Mitchells held a glove up to catch a snowflake drifting down from the swollen clouds. Lightning split the sky in a brilliant arc. By the time the flash faded away, the flake had melted.

“Never thought I would see snow,” Jennifer said.

“Radioactive snow,” Les replied. He lowered his hand and checked his wrist monitor. The rads were in the yellow zone.

“Everyone, keep an eye on your suit-integrity monitor,” Erin said.

“I don’t think my warming pads are working,” Ty said. “I’m freezing.”

Les checked the temperature reading on his HUD: thirty degrees and dropping by the minute.

“It’s probably because you’re as thin as a beanpole,” Jennifer said.

“Shut up and keep moving,” Olah snapped.

Erin brought a finger to her helmet, shushing them. They had been following her across the barren wasteland for hours, stopping only to raid the supply crates and pick up gear. She moved slowly but without hesitation.

Les was more grateful than ever to have an experienced leader on the team, but after seeing Tom die in the first few minutes of the mission, he was worried that Phoenix would end up like Erin’s old dive team. How many more of them would be killed down here?

Olah grunted as he dragged the ski-mounted supply crates over the snow. So far, he seemed to be handling the plastic boxes fairly easily. There wasn’t much inside, just the chutes and gear they had salvaged from Tom Price—not that the stubborn militiaman would ever ask for help if they were too heavy.

They were moving toward their target, an ITC installation deep underground. Erin continued on point with the satellite dish from the supply crate strapped on her back. She cradled one of the two assault rifles.

Les put his hand on the grip of his pistol for reassurance, hoping the cartridges would actually work if he ever had to fire the ancient weapon.

He stumbled over a chunk of rubble. Stay sharp, Giraffe. He was still getting used to the night-vision optics, and it was damned hard to see where he was going in the green-hued darkness.

There was a reason people referred to the surface as hell. Human bones littered the ground almost everywhere they went. They were in some sort of industrial zone now, trekking around old-world vehicles that rose out of the snow. Some of them Les recognized from picture books: cranes, concrete trucks, bulldozers. Others looked like nothing he had ever seen before. The area had been largely spared from the nuclear fires, but the crumbling infrastructure had suffered in the harsh conditions of the intervening two and a half centuries. Most of the vehicles were pocked and riddled with holes, just like the decayed network of roads they had once been driven on.

To the east, streets stacked one on top of another led to a wilderness of steel and concrete. A carpet of snow covered the dead city like a layer of skin. A skeletal arm protruded from a drift to his right, and even though it was ancient, Les checked for tracks.

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