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

had already been dead. Peter had developed a survival mindset in which everyone was a threat and the world would be lacking any form of operating electronic device. Yet, here he was, roughly three hundred miles from Washington, and he’d just witnessed three vehicles that had survived the electromagnetic pulse generated by the nuclear warhead destroying the city.

Peter needed to process this as well as rest for the next day’s ride. He considered his options. Unlike the small communities he’d ridden through previously, these businesses didn’t appear to be looted. There was no electricity, at least as far as his eyes could see. This was puzzling to him as well. If the EMP didn’t impact the cars, why would it take down the electric grid here?

He paced back and forth behind the dumpster, contemplating all of this. Finally, he pushed his bicycle between the buildings. At the rear of the simple block building, which contained the restaurant and hair salon, there was another business that built storage sheds. They were the kind you found at most home improvement stores. Shaped like small cabins and Dutch barns, the simple structures could be loaded on the back of a flatbed delivery truck and installed on blocks just about anywhere the owner desired. They’d become popular for some as tiny houses, a way of living inexpensively and, in some cases, off the grid.

Now that he’d seen signs of activity in the form of moving vehicles, Peter assumed law enforcement was active as well. He was not comfortable breaking into the businesses to look for food and shelter. He looked to the inventory of storage barns as an option that might not draw the owner’s ire if he was discovered.

He checked the door handles of the first few floor models lining the front of the business. They were all unlocked. After a look around, he decided on a small, near-windowless storage building in the middle of the business’s inventory. The lack of windows would insulate him from the cold, and the centralized location within the property might give him a heads-up in the event somebody else had the same idea.

Operating vehicles meant people were more mobile. The lack of electricity meant they were still going to be desperate.

Peter wheeled his bicycle inside and unloaded the gear. Then he laid the bike crossways across the barn door and used his bungee cords to secure it to the interior door handles. This barricade would give him peace of mind as he slept.

After rebandaging his wounds, he laid out the various pills that had become part of his daily regimen. The Keflex followed by the potassium iodide. He also took a multivitamin, vitamin C, D, and E supplements as well as a zinc tablet, most of which helped build his body’s immunities to disease. He had a sufficient supply to last him six months although he was certain he’d be back at Driftwood Key by then. Meanwhile, as he traveled, he’d be more likely to encounter diseased animals or people. And, as he’d proven, the prospect of being injured was high as well. The vitamins and supplements would help protect him while his nutrition was lacking.

After settling in, Peter took a sip of the Chivas Regal scotch he’d packed at the golf course. It caused him to wince as it went down, but he allowed himself another swig. He chuckled to himself as he imagined a doctor assessing his mental state. On the one hand, he was taking extra precautions to keep his body safe with various supplements. On the other, he was swigging a premium scotch without regard to the countereffect on his medication.

“Sometimes, you gotta just say screw it. Right, Pete?”

He took another sip. Within minutes, the lack of food in his stomach immediately resulted in a buzz. Peter, who’d never been a heavy drinker, had become a survivalist much like his sister. He recognized the importance of keeping a clear head. He capped the bottle of Chivas and stored it away before he took one swig too many.

Peter inhaled deeply, leaned against the wall of the shed, and laid the AR-15 across his lap. He closed his eyes and ran all the scenarios through his head. He tried to recall everything he’d ever learned about EMPs.

After all the calculations and possibilities were run through his mind, he came to the conclusion that the effect of the ground detonation in Washington had been limited to a certain radius. He became convinced that the power grid had been taken down due to the cascading failure similar to what had happened in India years ago.

Most likely, he decided, appliances and electronics like computers could function the farther he traveled away from DC. And, as he’d witnessed, vehicles were moving, although not in large numbers.

This meant his options for getting home just widened. As Peter drifted off to sleep, his entire focus changed. He needed to find a ride, one with at least four wheels.

Part III

Day sixteen, Saturday, November 2

Chapter Twenty

Saturday, November 2

Mount Weather Emergency Operations Center

Northern Virginia

President Helton was about to learn not all EMPs were alike. The electromagnetic pulse generated by the nuclear warheads had a differing effect on the U.S. depending upon whether it was an impact explosion or if the warhead detonated above the Earth’s surface.

Homeland Security and its experts were called in to brief the president on the impact the EMPs had on critical infrastructure and anything dependent on the use of electricity. While trying to help those in need, he was constantly looking forward to the rebuilding effort.

“Mr. President,” began the DHS director, “since the nineties, an argument raged in Washington as to whether the EMP threat was overhyped or a grievously overlooked existential threat to the nation. Generally, the debate centered around the funding of the various means to insulate our critical infrastructure from the effects of an electromagnetic pulse.

“These EMPs, whether naturally created by the sun in the form of a coronal mass ejection of solar