Refuge After the Collapse by Scott B. Williams

Author:Scott B. Williams [Williams, Scott B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781612433240
Publisher: Ulysses Press

Grant hoped he was making the right decision as he jogged down the deserted gravel road leading away from the cabin. Even before they left, as Joey and Zach were loading the Johnboat and canoe with most of the supplies from the cabin, Grant was quickly weighing his options. Although none of them was ideal, at least they were leaving him free and unhurt. He knew he was lucky Joey or Zach had not shot him and Scully, too. Somehow they’d been stupid enough to believe that they were effectively stranding him and that Scully was going to lead them right to the catamaran.

The motorcycle the two of them had ridden there from New Orleans was a possibility, despite the fact that Joey had taken the key and drained the gas. The lack of a key was hardly a deterrent. Grant was no mechanic by any means, but he’d owned a couple of dirt bikes when he was a teenager and he knew he could bypass the switch and push start the bike by rolling it down the hill behind the cabin if necessary. The Harley Sportster didn’t even come with a steering lock, making it a very easy bike to steal.

The empty fuel tank wouldn’t stop him either if he really wanted to use it. He was certain he could find some gas easily enough in the tank of an abandoned vehicle on the nearby road. But tempting as it was to be able to travel at the speed of a motorcycle, Grant knew it wasn’t practical. First of all, there was the matter of the roadblock at the state line that he had to assume was still in place, even though it was possible it had been dismantled in the weeks since they’d first found out about it. But even if it were possible to get through and ride south, there were all the dangers of travel by road that he and the girls had already dealt with on the bicycles. A running motorcycle would be a much more desirable target than a bicycle, and as it was a Harley, Grant knew it would be loud, giving anyone on the road ahead plenty of time to hear him coming and set up an ambush.

He thought the bicycles they’d hidden near the bridge south of the state line were probably still there, too, covered in brush in the dense canebrake and ready to ride, but even though he could travel quietly and still make good time on a pedal bike, there was still a major problem. He had canoed the entire waterway to the coast once, before all this happened, and was familiar with the terrain, even if he didn’t know the exact location of the anchorage Casey’s uncle had chosen. No road passed anywhere near that part of the river, and the surrounding swamps were impassable even on foot for the most part. He would still need a boat of some kind long before he got close, anyway,

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