Ray Gorham - 77 Days in September

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77 Days in September: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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On a Friday afternoon before Labor Day, Americans are getting ready for the holiday weekend, completely unaware of a long-planned terrorist plot about to be launched against the country. Kyle Tait is settling in for his flight home to Montana when a single nuclear bomb is detonated 300 miles above the heart of America. The blast, an Electro-Magnetic Pulse (EMP), destroys every electrical device in the country, and results in the crippling of the power grid, the shutting down of modern communications, and bringing to a halt most forms of transportation.
Kyle narrowly escapes when his airplane crashes on take-off, only to find himself stranded 2,000 miles from home in a country that has been forced, from a technological standpoint, back to the 19th Century. Confused, hurt, scared, and alone, Kyle must make his way across a hostile continent to a family he’s not even sure has survived the effects of the attack. As Kyle forges his way home, his frightened family faces their own struggles for survival in a community trying to halt its slow spiral into chaos and anarchy.
77 Days in September 5 Stars — bookstackreviews.com
4.6 Stars — Anthony Wessel, kindlebookreview.com
5.0 Stars — Stephanie, Beauty Brite Reviews
4.57 Stars — Average Amazon Customer Review (100 plus)
An EMP (Electro-Magnetic Pulse) is a magnetic pulse that overwhelms, and thus destroys, all electronic devices exposed to it. It is the most serious threat faced by a technologically advanced society. An EMP can be human caused, through the detonation of a nuclear bomb high above the atmosphere, or natural, through a severe geo-magnetic storm. In multiple reports prepared for Congress, scientists predict the complete destruction of modern American society and question our ability to ever recover if we are the target of an EMP attack. Further, some predict the death toll in America in the aftermath of such an event to be in excess of 200 million. • • •
WHAT IS AN EMP?

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Hurrying to the back of the car, Jennifer opened the trunk and found herself staring at a dozen plastic bags filled with groceries — pasta, canned vegetables, a dozen or so cans of tuna fish, crackers, and plenty more. She removed her backpack and quickly filled it with bags of food. As she worked, she noticed a foul odor and found, in one of the bags, a package of chicken thighs, which was now a putrid, dripping, brown mass. Holding her breath, she tied the bag of rotting meat shut, finished loading her bags, and climbed back on her bike.

Jennifer rode around to the front of the building where she had last seen Cassidy, but Cassidy was gone. She rode to the other side of the building and looked both directions, spotting Cassidy pushing the stroller down the street and away from the store. “Cassidy!” she shouted as she hurried to catch up. “Cassidy! I found some food!” Startled, Cassidy turned to see Jennifer holding out a bag. “There was a car on the other side of the building. The trunk was full. I grabbed this for you, but there was more for you to take if you go back.”

Cassidy’s eyes went from Jennifer, to the bag, then back to Jennifer again. She reached out and took the bag, but her expression didn’t change. “I don’t know that I should.”

Jennifer nodded. “Go ahead. I have as much as I can carry on the bike. I just wanted to find you and let you know.”

Cassidy shook her head. “What’s the point, Jenn? So we get some food. That just prolongs the inevitable. Now we’ll die in two weeks instead of one. It doesn’t change the reality.”

Jennifer stared at the young mother, shocked. “What are you saying? That you’re giving up?”

Cassidy looked away from Jennifer and didn’t respond.

“I can’t believe you,” said Jennifer, her anger rising along with her voice. She struggled to find the right words. “You’re a mother. You should be ready to kill for your child, not sentence him to death.” Jennifer felt her hands shaking, and she clenched the handlebars of the bike. “You should be ashamed. I’ve heard of mothers fighting wild animals to save their children, and you’re just going to give up?”

Cassidy turned back around and started to push her baby away from the store, the single bag of food hanging from the stroller.

“You need to think of Austin,” Jennifer called to her. “He deserves a chance at life, not a death sentence. The car is by the far exit if you change your mind, but the food won’t last long.” As a few people nearby took Jennifer’s directions to heart and ran for the unclaimed groceries, Jennifer watched Cassidy walk away, feeling madder than she had in years.

Jennifer jerked the bike around and had just started to pedal when she felt something tug on her bicycle. She twisted her head around and saw a man with unkempt, curly red hair holding onto the cable of the lock she had wrapped loosely around the bike seat post. The sight of him holding her back frightened her, and Jennifer pressed harder on the pedals, trying to break free of his grip.

“What do you want?” Jennifer shouted as he pulled her to a stop. Her heart was racing and her legs shaking so much she had a hard time keeping her balance.

“You said you have food. I want it,” the man demanded.

“Please, I have three children. I need it.”

The expression on the man’s face didn’t change. He was young, probably in his mid-twenties, and his face was covered with freckles, giving him an especially youthful look, but his eyes were set hard, and Jennifer could tell by his expression that he was completely serious. “I don’t care about your kids. I have my own worries. Give me your food!”

Jennifer swallowed hard, trying to stay calm. She could see Cassidy monitoring the situation over her shoulder, but hurrying in the opposite direction, and making her escape while she still had a chance. “Please,” Jennifer begged. “Please, I really need the food.”

The man jerked on the cable, pulling the bike and nearly knocking Jennifer to the ground. “Just shut up and give me the food. I don’t want to hear about it.”

Jennifer swiped at a tear on her cheek and had started to slip the backpack from her shoulders when she heard another voice from across the street. “Let go of her!” it demanded.

Both Jennifer and the man holding her bike turned in the direction of the voice. An older man wearing boxer shorts and an undershirt that was once white was striding across his lawn with an aluminum baseball bat raised threateningly above his right shoulder. He had a determined expression and was making a beeline towards them.

“Stay out of this, old man,” the red head snarled, looking back at Jennifer. “This is none of your business.”

“I’ve seen enough to know this is my business, you little punk. Let go of the lady. I don’t want to have to get your blood on my bat. You understand?”

The young man nodded slowly and released his grip on the cable, the lock falling back against the frame of the bike with a metallic clang. “Leave now!” the man with the bat ordered, looking at Jennifer.

Jennifer wasn’t sure who he was speaking to, but didn’t really care. As soon as she was free, she pushed her bike away and reached with her foot for the pedal. Once up to speed, she turned to look back at her protector. Just as she looked she saw the red head lunge towards the older man, and the baseball bat swing around in a heartbeat, catching the red head on the side of his head and dropping him to the ground like he’d been shot.

The violent act shocked Jennifer and she almost lost control of the bike. Catching herself, she weaved the bicycle between a couple of abandoned cars and turned back to where the two men were. This time the older man was kneeling on the ground, checking the younger man for signs of life.

She let out a horrified gasp, but she didn’t stop, too frightened to spend any more time in the city.

CHAPTER 13

Sunday, September 11 th

Northern Texas

The eastern sky glowed a peach-tinged yellow as the sun began its daily ascent. Kyle tied his shoes, then rolled up his sleeping bag and squeezed it back into its designated place in the cart. After a few hours of pulling on Wednesday, he had stopped and adjusted the load every mile or so until finding just the right balance. Now his challenge each morning was to repack the cart without upsetting the carefully earned equilibrium.

With his bedding repacked, Kyle stepped into pulling position, grabbed the handle, and set off for a fifth day. His legs and shoulders ached, but not as much as they had the day before, gradually becoming accustomed to the demands of pulling.

North Central Texas was forgivingly flat, and heading north from San Angelo, Kyle had made better time than he expected. Wednesday, his first day, he had pulled until well after dark, making it most of the way to Sterling City before stopping. A grassy patch had been his first bed site, but bugs, noises, worries and the hard ground had kept him from getting much rest. The second day started early, and he had walked to just north of Sterling when an old pickup passed him by. One thing that had surprised Kyle as he walked was the number of vehicles still operating. He had expected the roads to be devoid of any traffic, but on Wednesday, eight vehicles had passed him, and the pickup was the second one on Thursday.

Most drivers just waved as they sped by, and Kyle had been expecting the same from the pickup, especially since the truck bed had been loaded with boxes and bags, but it pulled over and a young couple jumped out.

“Where are you headed to?” the driver asked.

“Montana,” Kyle answered with a grin. “I don’t suppose you’re headed that way?”

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