Read Online Under a Tell-Tale Sky: Disruption - Book 1 by R.E. McDermott - Free Book Online
Authors: R.E. McDermott
Tags: Chaos, apocalypse, post apocalyptic, Dystopian, teotwawki, shtf, EMP, solar storm, the end of the world as we know it, solar flare, solar, grid, grid-down, shit hits the fan, coronal mass ejection, power failure
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unit was another ‘compromise,’ as the twins each wanted the unit in their own bedrooms. Jordan had issued a Solomon-like decision and installed the unit in ‘neutral territory.’ The girls were informed they could double bunk in the guest room during power outages or sweat. He called it a ‘compromise,’ but the twins characterized it as a ‘decree.’
She looked at the pile of unpaid bills and sighed. Oh well, with power down, there was likely no one at work to pay anyway; not a pressing problem in the scheme of things. Truthfully, other than Jordan’s absence, they had no major concerns. Water was no problem as long as she could run the well pump, and the generator ran on propane. She’d just had the tank filled last week to take advantage of low off-season prices. They were always prepared for hurricanes, and the ample kitchen pantry was well stocked. And if push came to shove, they could always eat pecans until the garden started producing more.
The sturdy old farmhouse built by her great-grandparents sat well off the blacktop, nestled in a grove of ninety-year-old pecan trees from which the property took its name. Laura thought naming property was pretentious in the extreme, and the practice always conjured up visions of yuppie assholes named ‘J Something the Third’ with overpriced McMansions built on one-acre lots in trendy suburbs. Houses the owners named ‘Long Ridge’ or ‘Beechwood’ prior to adding ostentatious driveway entrances suggesting Camelot lay within.
But unlike those efforts to fabricate a past that never was, Pecan Grove was a name bestowed not by the owners, but by area inhabitants. A name arising over time as the towering pecan trees grew to a landmark of note in the otherwise flat pastures and rice fields of Southeast Texas. A point of reference, such that ‘out by the Pecan Grove’ or ‘about a mile past the Pecan Grove’ became common directions. So common, in fact, Laura’s ancestors finally adopted the term as the name for home, without the least bit of pretension or posturing. It was always just ‘home’ to them, with ‘the’ omitted for convenience and ‘Pecan Grove’ becoming a place instead of a feature of the landscape.
And those old trees still produced a bountiful crop each year, a small side business to Laura’s large animal veterinary practice. All the proceeds of bulk pecan sales went into the girls’ college funds, and the ten-acre pecan grove in most years provided sufficient surplus for a seemingly never-ending supply of pecans for home consumption and gifts to family and friends. Laura’s honey-glazed roasted pecans were a coveted Christmas gift.
No, they weren’t likely to starve, regardless of the length of the power outage, and her only real concern was Jordan. Was he safe, and when would he get home?
Chapter Six
Cape Fear River
North of Wilmington, NC
Day 7, 2:00 a.m.
The best-laid plans, thought Levi, as he watched the river in front of the boat, the landscape a dull green in the NV goggles. Dull green but clear as day, thanks to a full moon. He’d counted on moonlight, and though a trial night river run had been on his ‘preparation to-do list,’ like many things, it had remained undone. He hadn’t really appreciated just how much visibility the moonlight reflecting off the water would provide. It made things much easier—and much riskier. The moon was so bright, the NV goggles made the trip like navigating in broad daylight, and they’d made much better time than he’d planned. They quickly reached the point where the Black River became the Cape Fear, and the Peter Point highway bridge loomed across the river in the distance ahead. Levi cut the outboard and the muted muttering died, leaving only the sounds of the river around them.
“Let’s switch to the trolling motor,” Levi said softly. Sounds carried a long way over the water.
“Isn’t it a little early,” Anthony whispered back. “We’re still a half mile
She looked at the pile of unpaid bills and sighed. Oh well, with power down, there was likely no one at work to pay anyway; not a pressing problem in the scheme of things. Truthfully, other than Jordan’s absence, they had no major concerns. Water was no problem as long as she could run the well pump, and the generator ran on propane. She’d just had the tank filled last week to take advantage of low off-season prices. They were always prepared for hurricanes, and the ample kitchen pantry was well stocked. And if push came to shove, they could always eat pecans until the garden started producing more.
The sturdy old farmhouse built by her great-grandparents sat well off the blacktop, nestled in a grove of ninety-year-old pecan trees from which the property took its name. Laura thought naming property was pretentious in the extreme, and the practice always conjured up visions of yuppie assholes named ‘J Something the Third’ with overpriced McMansions built on one-acre lots in trendy suburbs. Houses the owners named ‘Long Ridge’ or ‘Beechwood’ prior to adding ostentatious driveway entrances suggesting Camelot lay within.
But unlike those efforts to fabricate a past that never was, Pecan Grove was a name bestowed not by the owners, but by area inhabitants. A name arising over time as the towering pecan trees grew to a landmark of note in the otherwise flat pastures and rice fields of Southeast Texas. A point of reference, such that ‘out by the Pecan Grove’ or ‘about a mile past the Pecan Grove’ became common directions. So common, in fact, Laura’s ancestors finally adopted the term as the name for home, without the least bit of pretension or posturing. It was always just ‘home’ to them, with ‘the’ omitted for convenience and ‘Pecan Grove’ becoming a place instead of a feature of the landscape.
And those old trees still produced a bountiful crop each year, a small side business to Laura’s large animal veterinary practice. All the proceeds of bulk pecan sales went into the girls’ college funds, and the ten-acre pecan grove in most years provided sufficient surplus for a seemingly never-ending supply of pecans for home consumption and gifts to family and friends. Laura’s honey-glazed roasted pecans were a coveted Christmas gift.
No, they weren’t likely to starve, regardless of the length of the power outage, and her only real concern was Jordan. Was he safe, and when would he get home?
Chapter Six
Cape Fear River
North of Wilmington, NC
Day 7, 2:00 a.m.
The best-laid plans, thought Levi, as he watched the river in front of the boat, the landscape a dull green in the NV goggles. Dull green but clear as day, thanks to a full moon. He’d counted on moonlight, and though a trial night river run had been on his ‘preparation to-do list,’ like many things, it had remained undone. He hadn’t really appreciated just how much visibility the moonlight reflecting off the water would provide. It made things much easier—and much riskier. The moon was so bright, the NV goggles made the trip like navigating in broad daylight, and they’d made much better time than he’d planned. They quickly reached the point where the Black River became the Cape Fear, and the Peter Point highway bridge loomed across the river in the distance ahead. Levi cut the outboard and the muted muttering died, leaving only the sounds of the river around them.
“Let’s switch to the trolling motor,” Levi said softly. Sounds carried a long way over the water.
“Isn’t it a little early,” Anthony whispered back. “We’re still a half mile
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