Escape the Fall (Nuclear Survival: Southern Grit Book 2)

by Harley Tate

  Escape the Fall

  Nuclear Survival: Southern Grit Book Two

  Harley Tate

  Copyright © 2018 by Harley Tate. Cover and internal design © by Harley Tate. Cover image copyright © Deposit Photos, 2018.

  All rights reserved.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  The use of stock photo images in this e-book in no way imply that the models depicted personally endorse, condone, or engage in the fictional conduct depicted herein, expressly or by implication. The person(s) depicted are models and are used for illustrative purposes only.

  Contents

  Escape the Fall

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Acknowledgments

  About Harley Tate

  Escape the Fall

  Nuclear Survival: Southern Grit Book Two

  After unthinkable, would you know what to do?

  With a four-legged companion and no food in the pantry, Grant Walton faces an uphill battle. His wife is still missing, downtown is a smoldering crater, and radiation is killing more people every day. Torn between searching for his wife and gearing up for what’s sure to come, Grant is forced to put more than his morals to the test.

  A nuclear attack wounds long after the explosion.

  Leah Walton escaped a nuclear bomb that flattened her hospital and vaporized her friends. Now she’s racing to find her husband miles away. When her borrowed car ends up in a twisted, smoking heap, she wakes up injured and alone. She’ll have to rely on the kindness of strangers to survive and hope none of them kill her in the process.

  Could you drop everything to save yourself?

  While Grant and Leah struggle to stay alive, the United States falls deeper into chaos. Bombs destroyed cities, but mankind will rip the country apart. Can Grant find his wife in a city of six million people? Can Leah survive until he does?

  The attack is only the beginning.

  Escape The Fall is book two in Nuclear Survival: Southern Grit, a post-apocalyptic thriller series following ordinary people struggling to survive after a nuclear attack on the Unites States plunges the nation into chaos.

  Subscribe to Harley’s newsletter and receive First Strike, the prequel to the Nuclear Survival saga, absolutely free.

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  Chapter One

  LEAH

  State Road 372

  North of Atlanta, Georgia

  Thursday, 9:00 a.m.

  Cold morning air frosted Leah’s cheeks as she leaned her head out the window. The biting sting contracted her pupils and forced oxygen to her brain. If she hadn’t lived the past six days in the center of it all, she would never have believed it.

  First, a high-altitude nuclear detonation took out the electrical grid for most of the East Coast. It sent downtown Atlanta into chaos. Cars crashed all over the road. Hospital equipment at Georgia Memorial stopped working. Leah powered through a twenty-hour shift and barely made a dent in the suffering.

  If only that were the worst of it. People could survive without electricity, but the nuclear detonation on the ground changed everything. Flattening downtown Atlanta and almost everyone Leah knew, the weapon didn’t care about hospitals or patients or babies clinging to life.

  Leah swallowed. The top twenty-five cites in the United States were clogged with the dead and dying. Smoking and smoldering ruins sat where hubs of activity used to be. The blasts must have killed millions, and exposure to radiation would kill millions more.

  She pulled her head back inside the ancient Buick and wrinkled her nose. Even with the windows rolled down, the stale whiff of cigarettes made her twitch. Thanks to an old man who cared more about sitcom reruns than survival, Leah had a car. She was lucky.

  Sun glinted off the hood of the old station wagon and she blinked back a sudden rush of tears. If she blocked out the sight of a string of abandoned cars, Leah could almost pretend the country wasn’t falling apart. She pulled the visor down and flipped open the mirror. No signs of radiation poisoning yet. Her blonde hair still waved in the wind. Her pale cheeks turned pink from the cold. Her eyes were clear and focused.

  A concrete and brick bookstore had saved her life, and a handful of locals guarding a Walmart had kept her going. Now it was time to find her family. In a few hours, she would coast into Hampton, Georgia, hug her husband and sister, and thank God for small favors. As she turned a corner, the first open stretch of road in forever beckoned and Leah took advantage.

  The Buick wobbled as she eased the accelerator to near highway speeds. Her hair whipped against the seat back, the tears finally leaked from her eyes, and Leah glanced at the passenger seat. An air rifle sat on top of a duffel stuffed with food and drinks. I’d trade it all for someone to talk to.

  As she returned her attention to the road, her gaze caught on the radio dial. What were the chances?

  Leah turned it on, hoping against hope. Static. She spun the dial, frowning as the little red bar reached the end of the stations. Nothing. It had been hopeless from the start, but she longed for a human-generated sound. Music. Talk radio. Even meaningless advertisements.

  With the world turning digital, she hadn’t bought a CD in years. Did anyone even own a record player? So many songs. So many voices. All gone.

  Glancing back at the radio, the rectangular opening beneath it caught her eye. The car was way too old for cassettes. Leah pushed the play button and music filled the cabin. Not the dowdy old standards she expected, but a raucous, upbeat, dance-in-your-seat disco track.

  Leah laughed out loud as Donna Summer’s voice rose above the rhythm. The vocals and the melody and the never-ending optimism brought back so many memories. Her mom dancing in the kitchen while she cooked Sunday dinner. Her father picking her up and spinning her around like the kids on American Bandstand. She turned the volume up and sang along, cruising down the street and away from Atlanta.

  Leah thought about her sister’s little town nestled forty miles away from the horror of downtown. Five thousand people tucked between rolling hills and a flowing river. They might not have electricity, but they would still have books and pianos and guitars.

  Music could still spread joy. Hope filled Leah’s heart as she smiled for the first time in a long while. The last few days would fade from her memory and the horror right along with it. She would survive. America would rebuild. She just had to have faith.

  As the chorus crescendoed, Leah cranked up the volume. The dashboard rattled, the seat shook with each bass beat, and Leah shouted out the words. The road rose in front of her and Leah eased the gas pedal to the floor, forcing the Buick into the red line on the RPM. She almost felt like she was flying.

  As the car nosed over the hill’s crest, a noxious smell hit Leah’s nose
. She snorted and eased up on the gas.

  A plume of smoke rose from the engine. The car shuddered.

  Oh, no. Leah squinted at the dash. The engine temperature hovered in the critical zone. The smell of burning fluid and rubber and something nasty filled the car. A rush of smoke wafted over the hood and windshield. Why didn’t I notice? Why did I push the car so hard? Every second the smoke increased, obscuring her view of the sloping road ahead. She fumbled with the wipers, trying in vain to clear the smoke enough to see.

  The road dipped to a steeper grade and Leah applied the brake. She’d been going so fast, it would take forever to stop the car. She leaned out the window, trying to see. Through the smoke a shape loomed ahead.

  Leah’s eyes went wide. Something massive sat in the road, way too close and gaining. A garbage truck? A dumpster? Leah whipped the steering wheel, grabbing it hand over hand and cranking with all her might as she stomped on the brake.

  The car shimmied and the brakes squealed and she lost control, spinning in a circle as the tires hit something slick.

  The billowing smoke turned it all into a blind nightmare. She didn’t know if she would clear the blockage or if the car would slam into it head-on. Panic closed her throat and sent her heart into overdrive, beating like a hummingbird against glass.

  The car tipped with two wheels off the ground, and Leah screamed. Throwing her arms over her head, she ducked for cover as the rear of the station wagon slammed into something solid and unforgiving.

  The metal crumpled inward, the rear window shattered, and the back seat buckled under the force. Leah’s seat flew forward from the impact, slamming her shoulder into the dashboard before she bounced back against the cushion. Her head hit the door handle and she screamed again as her whole body flew like a marionette on strings.

  Everything was spinning. The car, her vision, the world all around. This was it. She would survive a nuclear attack to die in a car crash while an 8-track cheered her on. Leah opened her eyes as the steering wheel rose up, larger than life in front of her face.

  The sound of crunching bone accompanied a shooting pain in Leah’s head and the music finally stopped.

  State Road 372

  North of Atlanta, Georgia

  Thursday, late afternoon

  The cloying smell of copper roused Leah into consciousness. She blinked over and over, trying in vain to pull apart matted eyelashes. They wouldn’t budge. Pain radiated from her shoulder and head and her whole body ached.

  I have to clean myself up. I have to assess my injuries. The nurse in her operated on autopilot as she stretched over to the passenger seat to fumble with the glove compartment. It fell open and her fingers closed on a wad of napkins. With gentle pressure, Leah pried the worst of the sticky glop from her eyes and struggled to bring the car into focus.

  The first thing she saw was the blood. It covered her shirt and pants and clung to her downy arm hair like a crumbling jacket. It was everywhere. How am I still alive? She patted her face with ginger fingers, easing up into her hair until a shock of pain made her gasp.

  A laceration three to four inches long split her scalp just above her hairline and it still oozed with thick, clotting blood. Leah swallowed. I need stitches.

  She twisted around in the driver’s seat and found the seatbelt. It wouldn’t open. She jerked on the belt and whacked the release with the base of her palm until at last it gave way. The entire back of her seat was warped toward the middle, with rips and tears in the fake leather. Stuffing leaked from the ruined back seat and fluffed in the breeze. Shattered glass littered the floor.

  Leah turned to peer outside. The sun still shone, albeit lower in the sky. Was it the same day? Had she slept for thirty hours or only a handful?

  Leah felt her neck for a pulse beneath a layer of crusted blood. Weak, but steady.

  I have to get out of this car. I have to find supplies and close my head wound.

  She turned to the driver’s door and gripped it as a wave of vertigo and nausea roiled her stomach. She pulled on the door and handle and gave it a shove. The door wouldn’t open. Damn it.

  The crash warped the car so badly nothing worked. Leah swallowed down the bile in her mouth and crawled across the bench seat. Her duffel and air rifle somehow managed to stay put and Leah sent up a silent prayer of gratitude. At least she had some food and water and a weapon, no matter how meager.

  She unzipped the bag and fished out a Gatorade. The citrus tang made her gag as the liquid hit her throat, but Leah forced it down. Blood loss meant dehydration and confusion. Hydration would be the key to staying alert and conscious.

  The passenger door opened without issue and she dragged herself out of the car and onto the asphalt. She didn’t know where she was or which way to go. Her sister’s house could still be twenty miles away. She was in a part of town she’d never been, bleeding from a head wound.

  Helpless and hopeless.

  She shook her head and the world spun. I’m not hopeless. Not yet. With shaky steps, Leah turned back to the car and grabbed the air rifle. She thought about Paul’s instructions when he handed the gun to her outside the Walmart that morning: pump it a few times and then it’s ready to fire.

  Leah forced the pump action down and up. A wave of nausea passed and she pumped the rifle again. After six pumps, Leah sagged against the mangled frame of the car. It would have to be enough.

  Her vision blurred as she picked up the duffel and slung it on her shoulder, but Leah didn’t collapse. She gripped the car with one hand and the rifle with the other and looked around. No people anywhere. No one to ask for help.

  Across the street, a boarded-up and abandoned strip mall stood like a silent sentry already prepared for the new world. Behind her, privacy fences led into residential backyards. A typical cut-through road on the outskirts of town.

  She could go around to a house and knock on the door, but who would help her in this condition? She looked like a war zone survivor or a woman risen from the dead. And no house would have the supplies she needed: sutures and antiseptic and antibiotics.

  Leah squinted into the distance at the only cross-street she could see. A sign sat on the side of the road, twenty feet closer than the stop sign. Leah forced her feet toward it.

  As she closed the distance, her heart beat faster. She licked her lips and almost managed a trot. When the words became legible, Leah froze.

  North Georgia Regional Hospital

  An arrow pointed left. Despite the pain and vertigo and blood still coating her face and clinging to her hair, Leah smiled. A hospital would make everything better.

  Chapter Two

  LEAH

  Crabtree Parkway

  North of Atlanta, Georgia

  Thursday, late afternoon

  The lyrics to the song playing before the crash echoed on repeat in Leah’s head and she cursed at her own foolishness. Singing and speeding and pretending for a moment the world hadn’t changed overnight? Mistakes like that could get her killed. This one almost did.

  Trudging down the sidewalk, Leah blinked back the setting sun and willed her body not to collapse.

  One foot in front of the other. That’s all I have to do.

  From the intermittent dizzy spells and the radiating pain deep into her skull, Leah surmised she earned a low-grade concussion to go along with the nasty gash. She needed to clean and treat her wounds and then rest and recuperate. All of which she could manage at a hospital.

  The sign didn’t proclaim the distance, but it couldn’t be too far. Leah squinted into the sun. The orange orb hugged the line of houses and trees ahead. Sunset would be upon her soon. If she didn’t find the hospital before dark, she would have no choice but to keep going. Stumbling around in the night wasn’t the best option, but neither was passing out from blood loss.

  The hospital would be running on generators and the dark might even ease her search.

  She thought about her sister, Dawn, and her husband who hopefully waited in Hampton for h
er. Grant probably paced her sister’s living room right now. His eyes would dart to the clock every five minutes. His fingers would wear a hole in his shirt as he rubbed it back and forth. He had to be worried sick.

  If he couldn’t sit still, he would be out there, somewhere, searching the streets for her. Leah needed to make it to Hampton. She needed her husband.

  Everything that happened since the power went out filtered through Leah’s mind. First the EMP and the twenty-hour shift in the hospital keeping babies alive and treating accident after accident. Then listening to her husband’s frantic voicemails and leaving the hospital with Andy.

  The explosion in the building across the street and the TV broadcaster warning of a nuclear bomb. Then the detonation. Blinding light. Risk of radiation exposure.

  The long days and nights inside the bookstore.

  A muffled sound pricked Leah’s ears, but she ignored it. The trials of the past few days took up too much space to process anything else. The risky stop at the Walmart and the men who almost scared her to death.

  A crack in the concrete caught Leah’s toe and she stumbled. Her hand broke her fall as she landed half on the concrete and half on a strip of unruly grass.

  “Get in here and fix this cooler!”