Nuclear Winter Whiteout Bobby Akart (love letters to the dead .txt) 📖

going, determined to make it to the point he’d identified on the map before turning west. His breathing was labored, but he kept pressing on.

Almost there. Peter encouraged himself to continue up the hill. He stood on the pedals and pushed downward to keep a steady pace. He was not going to quit, but, in his mind, he hoped the intersection would provide another vacant gas station or business to shelter him for the night.

Peter looked ahead and saw that the top of the hill was approaching. Like reaching the apex of a roller coaster, he arrived at the top and began to sail down the hill, building up speed to get to his destination sooner. Peter leaned back on the seat and arched his back to relieve some tension. He took a deep breath of the musty air inside the gaiter he’d been wearing from time to time.

He was coasting at a high rate of speed as he crossed through the intersection with several abandoned businesses in sight. As had been his practice, when the stop sign appeared, he ignored it. He hadn’t encountered any operating vehicles since his Mustang stopped running.

This time was different.

As he entered the intersection, a car appeared out of nowhere from the west. Peter struggled to slow the bicycle to stop. When he couldn’t, he chose to pedal faster to beat the approaching vehicle, which he did. Barely.

He abruptly applied the brakes and skidded to a clumsy halt, almost toppling his bike over as he lost control for a moment. He stepped off the pedals to straddle the frame. Peter furrowed his brow and physically wiped his eyes with the back of his hands. He looked in wonderment as the passing vehicle slowed at a curve and applied the brakes before speeding eastward.

“Wow! Didn’t expect that,” Peter said aloud.

HONK!

Peter jerked his head around. Another car was approaching, and they were laying on the horn to force him out of the road. Peter pushed off and shuffled to the shoulder to avoid getting hit by the second car. This time, he got a better look at it. It was a late-model Mercedes.

Once again, he rubbed his eyes as if he were dreaming. Then he rubbed both hands on his thighs as if to confirm he was really standing by his bicycle. In the growing darkness, he studied the buildings around him. None of them showed signs of life, much less electricity. Yet two late-model cars had just sailed past him.

Peter took a deep breath and held it. He focused all of his senses on his surroundings, straining as he listened for any signs of machinery operating, whether it be another car or a small appliance. He cupped his hands to his ears in an effort to block out any ambient noise caused by the wind rustling through the trees. He concentrated.

Then he heard it. It was the low rumble of a truck approaching from behind him. He pushed his bicycle off the shoulder of the road behind a dumpster standing between a gas station and a barbeque restaurant.

Peter pulled his weapon and crouched next to it. Peering around the edge of the dumpster, Peter saw headlights appear on the road he’d just traveled along. The truck had lumbered up the hill and was coasting down the other side toward the stop sign. Only, he stopped, whereas Peter hadn’t.

After a second, the driver of the diesel farm truck began to drive past him, shifting gears as he picked up speed. Peter wanted to call out and ask him a simple question.

How?

Chapter Nineteen

Friday, November 1

Stokesdale, North Carolina

Peter eased up out of his crouch and assessed his surroundings. There were several older homes at the intersection together with an auto repair business on the back side of the gas station. The barbecue restaurant was attached to a hair salon. Despite the vehicles that had unexpectedly passed him, the rural crossroads was devoid of life except for a dog nosing around the back of the building.

Peter breathed a sigh of relief. He watched the dog sniffing around in search of food and wondered if the older pup might help him find something to eat as he suddenly realized how hungry he was.

The pup noticed him and immediately made a beeline to Peter’s side. Tail wagging and the tags on his collar jingling, the family pet turned scavenger used his friendly nature to introduce himself to Peter.

He crouched down and held his right hand out for the dog to sniff him. Peter spoke in a calm, reassuring tone. “Hey, buddy. Are you looking for some yummies?”

The dog responded by wagging his tail even faster. He sniffed at Peter’s arm and then sat down, eagerly allowing Peter to scrub on his neck. His panting and smiling face confirmed to Peter that he wasn’t likely to bite him.

“I wish I could help ya. I’m pretty sure the MRE bars I have would suck for you as much as they suck for me.”

Peter stood and rummaged through his bag in search of the Clif protein bars. Most of them had chocolate, but he found one that substituted carob, a powdered form of the dark brown pea produced by the carob tree that tasted like chocolate. He broke off a small piece and allowed the Heinz 57 pup to try it.

“Um, did you even taste that?” asked Peter with a chuckle. The dog panted, and his eyes seemed to ask for more. “All right, a couple more bites. Let’s not overload that stomach.”

Peter fed his new friend half and ate the other half for himself. It was hardly enough but satisfied him until he could find shelter. The dog raised his nose in the air and caught a scent of something. He darted off between the buildings and glanced back at Peter before disappearing.

He suddenly felt exposed. Thus far, he’d been riding along with very little human contact, thank goodness. Either the people he’d encountered had tried to kill him or they