Edge of Darkness: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller (Edge of Collapse Book 3) by Kyla Stone

Author:Kyla Stone [Stone, Kyla]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Paper Moon Press
Published: 2020-03-23T16:00:00+00:00

30

Noah

Day Eleven

The FEMA guy was named Aaron Andrews. He was a short, overweight black man in a blue FEMA-emblazoned jacket and cap, clutching a clipboard and pen.

He’d arrived with a military escort. Four soldiers in ACUs stood around two armored Humvees, M4s slung across their shoulders.

Rosamond, Annette, Julian, and Wiggins surrounded Andrews in the small foyer just inside the entrance. No one made a move to head deeper inside with the crowd of restless refugees.

“What happened to us?” Julian asked. “Who did this to us, and have we nuked them into the next century, yet?”

“I can only confirm that we were indeed attacked,” Andrews said, a pinched expression on his face.

“Surely, you’ve heard rumors at least,” Annette said. “Rumors with a bit of oomph behind them? An educated opinion?”

His gaze shifted briefly to the soldiers before returning to Rosamond. “The scuttlebutt pins it on China. They’re denying it, and their nuclear warheads are accounted for. But that doesn’t mean jack squat.”

“The White House knows,” Wiggins said. “You can bet your ass on it. They’re dragging their feet. Congress doesn’t know their head from their tail end on a good day. They don’t have the balls to do what needs to be done.”

Andrews shrugged. “Not my department.”

“When can we expect FEMA aid trucks to arrive?” Annette asked.

The man squeezed the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “I’m not here for that.”

Everyone stared at him blankly.

Noah cleared his throat. “What?”

“We’re alerting towns, townships, and villages in the region. FEMA emergency centers have been erected south of Kalamazoo in Portage and outside of St. Joseph off Old 31, along with Red Cross tent hospitals. FEMA busses will be escorting citizens to the appropriate regional centers, dependent upon the National Guard clearing the roads and keeping them clear. I’ll provide you with a schedule to disseminate to your citizens.”

“Not many folks here want to spend months trapped in a crowded, stinking FEMA camp,” Julian said, scowling.

The man went rigid. “They’re not camps—”

“We’ll pass on the information,” Rosamond said quickly to smooth over the tension. “Thank you so much for letting us know.”

“What about food?” Noah asked. That was the most pressing concern. Even with the militia’s supply run, what they had wouldn’t last several hundred people more than a week. “When will the FEMA distribution trucks start coming?”

The man shifted from foot to foot and sighed, his obvious discomfort increasing. “They’re not.”

“Come again?” Rosamond asked.

“I’m not the decision-maker here,” Andrews said dourly. “If folks are hungry or need shelter, they can come to one of the official emergency centers.”

“No aid is coming?” Annette said, dismayed. “Nothing at all?”

The guy shrugged helplessly. “I’m just trying to do my job. I’m sorry.”

A sinking sensation took hold of Noah’s stomach.

“That is unacceptable.” Rosamond’s voice was calm but sharp-edged with fury. She gestured behind her. “Look at these people. They’re not getting enough as it is.”

“Look, I’m sorry.” Andrews wrung his hands and glanced back at his armed escort like he was wishing they’d come rescue him from another irate town.

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