Nuclear Winter Series | Book 3 | Nuclear Winter Whiteout Akart, Bobby (reading an ebook .txt) 📖

his nerves as he ran his fingers around the pellet holes again. The wounds were circular and somewhat seared. He’d likely been saved by the floor, sofa and layers of clothing that the pellets had had to travel through before reaching his body. He also assumed parts of all of those things had traveled with the pellets as they entered his chest.

The edges of the wounds were raw and flaring out somewhat, different from the other puncture wounds. This had been Peter’s first indication that the pellets were embedded. He took a deep breath and went to work on the chest wound first, which seemed to be producing the most blood. He considered taking a finger from both hands and mashing the wound like he was a teenager popping a zit. Then he wondered if he might end up pushing the pellet deeper inside.

He opted instead to use the tweezers that came with the first aid kit he’d found at the sporting goods store. He looked up for strength, and then he gritted his teeth. This was gonna hurt.

Peter slowly pried open the wound, an action that almost caused him to scream in agony. He knew he couldn’t because he had to keep his wits about him during the entire process, and he wasn’t certain he was completely alone. With the wound slightly agape, he gently pressed on the sides of his skin to urge the pellet to pop out. His eyes grew wide as he fought to keep his hands steady. If his grip on the tweezers slipped, the silver steel ball might be forced farther into his body, and the wound could be expanded.

With a final gentle nudge, the pellet popped out of his chest and rolled down his stomach until it fell to the ground. Peter quickly retrieved the gauze pad and began to clean the wound. Having practiced on the first three, he was able to cleanse and bandage the hole quickly.

Then he turned his attention to the second pellet. The process was similar to his first effort, and having done it once, his confidence grew. Again, in less than a minute, he’d extracted the pellet, which managed to roll into his belly button. Peter spontaneously laughed, causing him more pain than the removal of the bullet.

“I couldn’t do that again in a million years,” he mumbled to himself with a smile.

He pulled the pellet out of his navel and shoved it into his pocket. This was a story he’d tell his dad and uncle when he got to Driftwood Key.

Peter cleaned himself up, drank some more water, and then dressed in the hunting gear he’d found at the mall. He now wished he’d kept the camping equipment he’d had to leave behind in order to lighten his load. The multiple layers of cold-weather hunting clothes might not be enough to keep him warm out in the open.

For a moment, he thought about looking for a place to sleep. He lay in the grass, surrounded by his belongings and the bloody reminders of what he’d been through the night before. He contemplated what was ahead of him. The length of the trip. The threats he’d face. The challenges of riding a bicycle with his body beat all to hell. His mind wandered, and then it shut down as he fell into a deep sleep.

Chapter Five

Thursday, October 31

La Junta, Otero County, Colorado

Sheriff Shawn Mobley exited the communications room at the Otero County Sheriff’s Office with a disconcerting look on his face. The normally amiable sheriff had shepherded his community through the aftermath of the devastating electromagnetic pulse that had destroyed the power grid for several hundred miles around its point of detonation outside Boulder. The effect was immediate, and all electronics and vehicles that weren’t hardened against the powerful pulse of energy ceased to function.

Sheriff Mobley had prepared his department and his community for this eventuality. An Army veteran who was also a proud father of four, as well as a grandfather, he’d studied the threats posed by a massive power outage. He’d researched the consequences of massive solar flares as well as the potential of a nuclear-delivered warhead triggering an EMP.

What he never imagined was being subjected to the devastating climatic impact of nuclear winter. Weather anomalies were beginning to appear, and he’d just received contact via his ham radio network that a flash freeze had engulfed the west part of Otero County toward Pueblo.

He was told a handful of livestock had been frozen even though they were sheltered within barns. However, those fighting the freezing conditions in the fields never had a chance. The reports of a sudden temperature drop to below zero coupled with high winds immediately raised concern for the residents around Fowler located on U.S. Highway 50.

His deputies had really stepped up during the crisis. They’d spent countless hours away from their own families to check on the elderly residents of the county and to assist ranchers in protecting their cattle. The community was close knit, and they came together to soldier through the greatest catastrophe to strike America in her history.

He entered the break room at the sheriff’s department without a word. It was five in the morning, and the overnight shift was winding up their workday. His deputies had settled in for a few hands of shotgun poker.

At the sheriff’s office, gambling for money was forbidden, so the deputies improvised. The currency of choice was ammunition. Red twelve-gauge shotgun shells were the lowest value. Next came the nine-millimeter rounds used in the Smith & Wessons that had been the department’s service weapon for years. Tonight, the guys had raided the ammunition lockers for a couple of boxes of Speer Gold Dot hollow points.

Sheriff Mobley had just received an order of several Glock 17 Gen 5s for his patrol deputies, which were outfitted with Trijicon suppressor night sights. Otero County was generally crime-free, as it enjoyed a low unemployment rate and a stable economy. However, U.S. Highway 50 was