Prepper: Book 5 (PREPPER: A GRID-DOWN POST-APOCALYPTICDYSTOPIAN SURVIVAL SERIES) by Tom Abrahams

Author:Tom Abrahams [Abrahams, Tom]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Piton Press LLC
Published: 2024-07-30T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

SEMINOLE COUNTY, FLORIDA

GRID DOWN, DAY 18

Pickett ended his phone call and looked at the screen for several seconds before tucking it into his front pants pocket. He wore cargo pants and a short-sleeved fishing shirt with zipper pockets on the chest and venting across the back. His boots were goat-leather Chelseas that zipped up the sides. His gunmetal web belt with a matte black buckle finished the outfit, which he liked to call “tactical casual.”

He was sure he heard the description before but could not place where. Perhaps it had been some dog and pony show tour of a political hotspot. Regardless, he liked the characterization of the attire that made him, in some small way, feel like one of the high-level operators he employed. All he was missing was the shoulder harness or combat suspenders so many of them wore.

Pickett stood in the growing heat of the central Florida sun, having moved to a clearing in the forested area for a better cell signal, and replayed elements of the call in his head. As much as the movement of the plan in the field encouraged him, the lack of real progress in Washington was disheartening. The places where he and Obsidian historically proved most effective were in the halls of Congress, Parliament, Kremlin, Knesset, or the Great Hall of the People.

Yet the widening ideological chasm on Capitol Hill was proving difficult to navigate. Even Obsidian’s influence and strategic use of kompromat to induce policy fought against a level of resistance Pickett had never seen.

He tapped the fabric of the deep thigh pocket into which he had put his phone, deciding he could worry about the complications in DC at a later time. There was nothing he could do in the moment to effect the appropriate change in behavior.

His phone buzzed against his leg, and at first, Pickett thought he had inadvertently triggered a response on the device. Then it buzzed a second time, so he fished it from the pocket and tilted the screen so he could read the display against the sun’s bright glare.

It was Smooch. Pickett answered on the fourth ring.

“You have a signal in there?” Pickett asked.

“I’m using the Wi-Fi,” Smooch said. “It’s better than the 5G they have out here. You know that tech, which uses millimeter waves, provides faster speeds but much smaller range. 4G offers less speed, but the range is, like, ten miles under good conditions. If it were up to me, I—”

“What do you want?” Pickett asked, uninterested in cellular technology.

“I’ve got something to show you,” Smooch said.

“What is it?”

“That project you gave me? We’ve been working on it and seen significant progress. Where are you?”

“I’m on my way.”

Pickett disconnected the call without answering Smooch’s question or awaiting his reply. He gripped the phone in his hand instead of putting it in his pocket. It was slick from the sweat on the side of his face. The Florida humidity was no joke.

He stepped from the clearing and found the worn path that wove through the canopy of pines, palmetto, and live oaks.

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