Nuclear Winter Series | Book 2 | Nuclear Winter Armageddon Read online

  “You and I can start working on it tomorrow,” Jackie said as she started walking toward her building.

  No, Jackie. Not me. I’ve gotta go.

  The two of them rounded the corner and marched toward her apartment. Jackie suddenly stopped.

  The front door was wide open.

  “Something’s wrong,” she muttered as she took off running. “Mamaw!”

  “Jackie, is that one of the kids over there?” asked Peter, pointing toward the parking lot.

  Jackie took a step toward her youngest sibling. “Taysha! Come here. What are you—?”

  “Jackie! Help!” her oldest sister screamed at her from inside the apartment, drawing her attention from the wandering child.

  She raced ahead and rushed through the doorway. She immediately stopped and covered her nose and mouth with her arm. The apartment reeked with the stench of vomit.

  Her grandmother was sprawled out on the floor facedown. She’d emptied the contents of her stomach next to her chair and again when she hit the floor.

  “Mamaw!” Jackie screamed as she fell to her knees beside Asia.

  Peter joined her. He pressed two fingers under her jaw against her carotid artery to feel for her pulse. Her meaty throat made it difficult.

  “Help me roll her onto her side.”

  “What?”

  “Jackie, come on. Roll her over.”

  It was difficult to move the extremely overweight woman. Peter needed to determine if she was alive. As they rolled her over, Asia began to gasp for air. She coughed up the last of the vomit in her throat and began to take rapid, shallow breaths.

  “Honey, go get your sister out of the parking lot,” Jackie ordered her sister. Then she turned to Peter and looked him in the face. “Is she dying? We gotta do something!”

  “Hold her steady.” Peter dumped the bag of insulin bottles onto the floor. He ripped open his cargo pants pocket and located the tactical flashlight. He read the labels of the dozens of insulin vials, looking for answers as to which one to give her. “Jackie, do you know what kind to use? They’re all different.”

  “She uses Tresiba. It lasts almost two days.”

  “We need something fast acting,” said Peter.

  Asia began to get the dry heaves, as the contents of her stomach had emptied. “Peter! We have to do something!”

  “Get me a syringe!”

  Peter frantically read the labels. His hands were shaking, as he could feel Asia’s life slipping away. Then he held a vial and rotated it through his fingers. This had to be it.

  Jackie returned with a syringe. Peter handed her the vial.

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  “No, but we have to try. It’s called Novorapid. Rapid means fast. Do it!”

  Jackie, who’d administered her grandmother’s insulin shots in the past, expertly drew out a large dose of the fast-acting insulin. She pulled her grandmother’s nightgown aside, exposing her belly. She inserted the needle and depressed the plunger. Then, with a sigh, she lovingly covered Asia’s stomach.

  She managed a chuckle. “She’d kill me if she knew you saw her uncovered like that.”

  Peter reached over and squeezed her hand. “When she comes to, we’ll gladly take the tongue-lashing, right?”

  Her siblings had returned, and she ordered them to their rooms. If Asia was going to die on the living room floor, she didn’t want the young children to witness it. She and Peter sat on their knees next to Asia. Jackie lovingly stroked her grandmother’s face as the minimal sunlight moved across the horizon so that it shone through the open doorway.

  Asia’s breathing became less labored. Her clammy skin became warmer. She began to stir.

  “What happened?” she whispered. Her voice was strained from the vomiting fits.

  “We’re here, Mamaw. Don’t worry. We got your medicine.”

  Peter whispered to Jackie, “How do you test her blood sugar? Do you have anything besides the glucose meters?”

  “She has a patch on her other arm,” replied Jackie. “It’s called a FreeStyle Libre. It constantly checks her blood sugar levels.”

  “We’ve gotta help her up to check it.”

  Jackie shook her head. “It quit working after the bomb hit.”

  “Jackie! Is Mamaw okay?” It was her little brother.

  “Yes! She’s gonna be all right.”

  Peter agreed, for now. Asia was breathing normally and began to complain about the vomit. Peter helped her sit upright, and Jackie instructed the kids to come out of their rooms.

  The kids raced to embrace their grandmother. Nobody cared about the mess on the floor and her gown. Then they cried tears of joy because they hadn’t lost the woman who’d been forced to raise them for the last couple of years. Jackie let out all of her emotions again, relieved that she didn’t have to carry the burden of protecting her siblings, and herself, alone.

  Peter didn’t try to stop the tears flowing down his cheeks. Breaking into the pharmacy. Shooting those men. All of it was worth this moment. The saving of a good woman’s life. The ability to give these kids a chance to survive.

  He stood and stepped back from the family as they held one another. Then, as if the sun had been eclipsed, the minimal amount of sunlight went away. Instinctively, Peter swung around to look outside. What he found was a hulking figure that filled the door frame from side to side and top to bottom.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Monday, October 28

  Fairfax, Virginia

  “Who are you?” the man’s deep voice boomed through the living room. Peter was frozen, unsure of what to do. He hesitated to reach for his weapon in case the man had a gun in his hands. What happened next shocked him.

  “Daddy!” jubilantly yelled one of the kids.

  Jackie’s father, a gentle giant of a man, entered his living room, allowing the hazy sunlight to enter with him. He dwarfed Peter and stood somewhat menacingly just a few feet away. Then he was surrounded by arms and hugs and joyful tears as his three youngest rushed to his side.

  “Praise Jesus!” exclaimed Asia. She grasped Jackie’s arms. “Help me up, honey.”

  Peter was still speechless as he stood off to the side, the man’s wary eyes locked on his. Their father knelt down and wrapped his massive arms around all three of the young children and lifted them into the air. His son hugged his dad’s neck while the others were easily hoisted upward until they wrapped their legs around his waist. Peter had never seen anything like it.

  “Mama, are you okay?” he asked.

  “Yes, son. I am,” she replied as she leaned on Jackie to stay upright. She had difficulty standing on a good day. This one had started out poorly, but things were looking up.

  Jackie appeared to be in a state of shock. Almost in disbelief. She’d been through so much trying to carry the load as a teenager. His sudden appearance was surreal.

  “Peter, this is my daddy, Al.”

  Al set his youngest kids down, still keeping a guarded eye on Peter. He slowly approached Jackie and his mother. Without regard to the vomit-covered clothing on both of them, he hugged them and showed his tender side as tears began to stream down his face.

  “I’ve missed y’all so much,” he said as he choked back the tears. “I’ve worried every minute since, you know. God has answered my prayers.”

  “Ours too, Daddy,” said Jackie.

  She stepped back to allow mother and son to reunite. They held each other for half a minute, whispering in each other’s ear. When they finally broke their embrace, Al grabbed his mother’s walker for her, and she made her way down the hallway toward her bedroom to clean up.

  Finally, Al spoke directly to Peter. He reached toward Peter to shake hands. Peter was struck by the size of the man’s hand and fully expected his to be crushed by the handshake. Instead, it was rough but somehow soothing.

  “Mama said God sent you to save her life. Is that true?”

  “Well—” Peter began before Jackie interrupted.r />
  “Yes, Daddy. He did. If it wasn’t for Peter …”

  Her voice trailed off as her eyes welled up with tears again. She wrapped her arms around her father, as did her brother and sisters. The family enjoyed another moment as Peter watched. He was beginning to get the sense he was intruding upon their reunion. He looked around the living room for his gear and the second bag of pharmaceuticals he’d managed to gather.

  Al whispered to his children, “My babies, go to your room for a minute while I talk to this gentleman and Jackie. Okay?”

  “Daddy, we wanna hear all about your trip home,” said the oldest of the three.

  “No, baby girl, you don’t. Now, hop to it.”

  The three feigned being upset in a childish sort of way, but they dutifully followed their father’s orders. When they’d left, Al turned to Peter.

  “I wanna hear about how you got Mama her insulin.”

  Jackie stood tall and pulled her shoulders back. She was still nearly a foot and a half shorter than her father, but in that moment she, too, was a giant as she threw his words back at him.

  “No, Daddy, you don’t.”

  The insolence was not lost on Al, and he immediately bellowed in laughter. Peter doubted the loving father had had many opportunities to laugh like that in the last couple of years. It made all three of them feel good.

  After he calmed down, with a toothy grin, he pointed at Jackie. “I’m gonna give you a pass this time, young lady. There will be a time when we’ll discuss this and everything else. For now, I’d like to talk to Peter.”

  “I’ll go change clothes,” said Jackie. She hugged her dad around the neck and kissed him on the cheek. Once he and Peter were alone, Al sat on the couch, and Peter pulled a chair from the dinette set.

  The two men chatted about their experiences since the bombs hit. Al explained that he’d been convicted of conspiracy to distribute drugs although he never actually sold them himself. He’d been arrested driving a delivery van that had opioids hidden in the back. He’d refused to testify against his employers and was saddled with a stint in the Virginia prison system at Coffeewood, southwest of Fairfax, on the way to Charlottesville.

  His wife had been similarly charged on another bust except her charges were federal in nature. She was housed at the Federal Prison Camp in Alderson, West Virginia. It was the same facility that had held TV icon and businesswoman Martha Stewart.

  “Al, I was glad to help. Please don’t be too hard on Jackie. She’s been through a lot, and I had no business allowing her to go with me to the CVS.”

  “She’s headstrong, like her mother. Even if you told her no at the top of your lungs, she would’ve just followed you over there anyway.”

  Peter laughed. “Asia said the same thing. I figured that out pretty quick.”

  “I don’t know how I can repay you for saving Mama’s life and, really, all of my kids. She’s overweight, but she gives this whole family strength.”

  “Don’t worry about it. They’re tough, and I see they have their father, and Asia, to thank for that. I do need to be on my way, though.”

  “Where to?”

  “My family lives in the Keys. It’s a long haul.”

  “No doubt about that,” said Al as he nodded his head. “Do you have a car that runs?”

  “No,” Peter replied. He pointed toward the duffel bags, backpacks, and camping gear. “I’m gonna walk.”

  Al thought for a moment, and then he stood from the couch. “I have something that’ll help.”

  He walked through the front door onto the sidewalk. Lying on the ground was a gray Schwinn Mendocino bicycle. It was an eBike, a new design of electric bicycle with a rack-mounted battery above the rear wheel.

  “I felt bad because they let me out of jail, and less than a day later, I stole something,” explained Al. “The battery needs chargin’, but I couldn’t figure out how. Either way, it pedals like a regular bike and holds me pretty good. You might be able to strap your bags on the rack or somethin’ like that.”

  Peter walked to the bike and set it upright. It appeared to be fairly new. Then he hesitated as he set it against a support post holding up the walkway above them.

  “I can’t, Al. You’re gonna need this to find your mom a hospital.”

  “No arguments. Jackie and I can manage. This is perfect for you, and you know it.”

  Peter nodded and shrugged. Other than a nonstop flight from Dulles to Miami that wouldn’t likely happen for years, this was his best option.

  “Okay. I have something for you, too.”

  Peter wheeled the bicycle closer to the front door so it didn’t inadvertently ride off with someone else. The family had gathered in the living room again, and Jackie worked with her sisters to clean up the floor.

  He gathered up the medications and distributed the potassium iodide tablets for everyone to take. He also provided them a bottle of amoxicillin for infections.

  Finally, the tears flowed once again as Peter said goodbye to everyone, especially Jackie. They hugged until she finally relented. It was if she thought she could keep him if she didn’t let go.

  But go he did. Peter had a long journey ahead of him. One that would present him with many challenges if the stories Al relayed were true. Staying nourished and healthy would only be part of his difficult task. Not being killed for his belongings would be a bigger one.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Monday, October 28

  SNO-PARK at Echo Lake

  Near South Lake Tahoe, California

  The night before, Lacey and her family had ventured up the access road leading to Echo Lake and its surrounding campgrounds. It had taken them several hours to search for anything of value in the wrecked vehicles on the bridge. In addition to finding the ammunition for both pistols, the pickup had two full cans of gasoline, a loaded shotgun, and two hunting knives. Some of the other things they found included a Craftsman toolbox containing a variety of tools and several operable flashlights with batteries. Pushing through the pileup was an arduous task considering the slick conditions, but the additional snowfall proved to be a benefit, as the mud and snow tires mounted on the Bronco were up to the task.

  It was getting dark, and Lacey was concerned about approaching South Lake Tahoe on the Nevada side of the state line. This was a tourist destination full of casinos, hotels, and surrounding campgrounds. The town was likely full of people, as, ordinarily, October was a beautiful time to visit the mountainous region.

  So they turned off the highway and ventured up the access road toward Echo Lake, an outdoor paradise allowing visitors to hike, camp, and cross-country ski in the winter. A mile up the road was the first SNO-PARK, a permit-only parking area maintained by the State of California for visitors to be guaranteed a parking space that had been plowed in the winter.

  They discovered several cars abandoned there despite the fact it was the least active of the nineteen SNO-PARK locations at Echo Lake. Once Owen pulled up to the small cabin that was used as a visitors’ information center, he parked the truck, allowing the three of them to observe their surroundings.

  “If anybody’s here, I’m sure they’ll show themselves out of curiosity, don’t you think?” Lacey asked.

  “I agree,” replied Owen. “Plus, it’s been three days since they hit the west coast. I imagine these people walked the ten or twelve miles to Tahoe.”

  “Do you want me to go look around?” asked Tucker. “I could take a gun for—”

  “No!” protested Lacey a little too aggressively. She caught herself and explained, “Tucker, you need to learn how to use a gun first. I think I’m the only one who’s ever shot a gun, and that was when I was a teenager.”

  “That’s right, son. You can’t mess around with those things. Your mom has to teach us both how to use them.”

  “We don’t have enough bullets to practice,” said Tucker.

  “That’s true, but it doesn’t mean we can’t practice. Uncle Mike taught me how to handle a w
eapon by dry-fire training.”

  “Dry-fire?” asked Tucker.

  “That’s right. I’ll teach you what I know about handling a gun safely, and then we’ll practice pointing and shooting with no bullets in the gun. It’s called dry-fire shooting. Believe it or not, I got pretty good at shooting before I ever fired an actual bullet.”

  Tucker was anxious. “Let’s get started!”

  “Let’s make camp first,” said Owen, tamping down Tucker’s enthusiasm to practice with the weapons. He turned to Lacey. “Since you can handle a gun, can you stand watch while Tucker and I set up a camp? I wanna check out the little cabin. It looks like it has a stovepipe sticking up through the roof.”

  Lacey checked the twelve-round magazine and confirmed it was full. She reinserted it into the base of the PT-111 Millennium Pro nine-millimeter handgun made by Taurus. It was a compact model and fit into her hand easily. She smiled and nodded to her husband, appreciating the confidence he had in her.

  “Okay, I’ll walk around the truck while you guys get us set up. There’s some firewood over there, if you can use it.”

  “We’re gonna have to sleep in shifts from now on, don’t you think?” Owen asked.

  She grimaced and managed a smile. If the shoot-out at the bridge was any indication, their world was far more dangerous than it had been prior to the bombings.

  “Dad, the door’s open,” announced Tucker, who had slipped out of his father’s sight and approached the visitors’ building without him. He tried the light switch several times with no success. He used a penlight flashlight he’d found in the wrecked Kia to light up the small building. “There’s a wood-burning stove. The place was trashed by somebody, but the windows aren’t broken out.”

  Ten minutes later, a fire was built in the stove, and their sleeping bags with bedding had been unloaded into the small cabin. It was plenty warm, and the trio was in good spirits as they settled down for the second of their three meals of stale MRE bars.