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G Hopf: Driver 8: A Post-Apocalyptic Novel

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G Hopf Driver 8: A Post-Apocalyptic Novel
  • Название:
    Driver 8: A Post-Apocalyptic Novel
  • Автор:
  • Издательство:
    G. Michael Hopf
  • Жанр:
  • Год:
    2017
  • Город:
    San Diego
  • Язык:
    Английский
  • ISBN:
    978-1-979-20323-4
  • Рейтинг книги:
    3 / 5
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Driver 8: A Post-Apocalyptic Novel: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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Nineteen years have past since a nuclear world war wiped out the United States, leaving nothing but charred and ruined cities. Out of the ashes, small pockets of survivors banded together to forge new societies in the few areas not ravaged by the nuclear holocaust. One community has not only risen but thrived. Known as The Collective, they pride themselves on an orderly system of government with a functioning infrastructure. The citizenry owe their success to their founder The Number One, who presides over them with an iron fist. Life in The Collective centers on contribution and purpose. All are assigned responsibilities and if one cannot fulfill them, they are cast out. The most coveted but dangerous responsibility is that of a driver. Drivers ride the lonely and barren roads scavenging and exploring the outer reaches. Over the years only one has emerged as a legend and his name is Driver 8.

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The door cracked followed by a gush of air. That signaled to him this room hadn’t been accessed in years, maybe even since the day the war started. Kyle stepped back. He pulled out a flashlight and pushed the door fully open. He shined the light across the room before entering and confirmed what he surmised, no one had been down here for a very long time. The room was a snap shot out of time, all preserved under a thick layer of dust. Deciding it was safe, he entered.

His first observation of the basement was that it had been used as living space. In the far corner to his right, a sectional couch sat. On the wall in front of it hung a fifty-inch flat screen television. To the right of that he spotted a pool table.

He cast the beam to the left. There he spotted a washer and dryer with clothes still dangling from a clothesline that spanned from a large support beam to the wall.

Kyle beelined it for the washer and dryer. He grabbed a large basket and began to pile in the bleach and detergents. He paused just before pulling the clothes off the line.

“Let’s make sure you’re clean,” he said out loud. From a utility belt, he removed the wand from his Geiger counter, flipped on the device and waved it just an inch above the fabric. “Hmm, no discernable radiation. Excellent.” Happily, he pulled every stich of clothing from the line and placed it in the basket.

Next to the washer, a large metal storage cabinet teased him. He opened the doors to find a motherlode. Batteries, lightbulbs, towels, paper towels and one of the most coveted items, toilet paper. He emptied the cabinet leaving only a small box of finger nail polish. Just before walking away, he stopped, turned back around and took the box of polish. He shoved it into the basket.

After inspecting the left side, he went to the right. The first thing he did was remove the batteries from the remote controls.

He opened a small media console but found nothing of value.

In his excitement, he had started to work up a sweat as beads began to form on his forehead. Outside of tearing your suit, nothing was worse than your visor steaming over and making it impossible to see.

He glanced at his watch. Two hours until nightfall. He had lost track of time. He’d never make it back to the eastern boundary of The Collective and he wasn’t about to take the chance driving at night.

With no urgency to leave. He decided to camp in the basement and leave first thing in the morning. He stepped back and plopped down on the couch.

A cloud of dust rose around him.

On the coffee table, he saw a stack of magazines. He picked the top one up, a copy of WOMEN’S HEALTH and dusted it off. He chuckled as he read the cover: LOSE TEN FOR THAT HOT SUMMER BODY. “Losing ten isn’t quite the problem it was back then,” he laughed. TRY THE GLUTEN FREE VEGAN LIFESTYLE FOR A HEALTHIER YOU! He burst out laughing because after the bombs dropped, he hadn’t met one person who was gluten intolerant or vegan.

Taking a needed break to cool down, he skimmed through the magazine, his thick rubber gloves sticking and tearing the fragile pages. Losing interest, he tossed it aside. He leaned back and exhaled deeply. Curious as to what lied further back in the dark reaches of the basement, he aimed his light in that direction.

The light scattered the murkiness.

He slowly traced the back area, stopping when he saw something. He got up and walked over.

There lying on the floor, in a circle, were the skeletal remains of four people. Once more he asked himself who they might be.

Strictly by the size, two appeared to be children and two adults. If this was a family, then whose shadows were seared into the concrete retaining wall above? Grandparents? Neighbors? Friends?

His light settled on a thick, pink covered book lying next to a small skeleton. He bent down, picked it up and dusted it off. MIA’S DIARY, was written on the front. He glanced back down. “Hi Mia. Do you mind if I read your diary? I promise, I won’t tell, I’m just curious what happened to you.” Pausing as if expecting a response, he stood. After a moment, he turned and went back to the couch.

Getting comfortable once more, he opened the book to the date the bombs rained down, or as the Number One, his leader, called it, THE REBOOT. The Number One, coined the name after having spent his life as a computer programmer. He’d preach that THE REBOOT, was a good thing for humanity which always resulted in Kyle rolling his eyes. How could the death of billions be a good thing?

Kyle found the page he was looking for and read.

August 19. I should be getting ready to go to the movies, but instead, I’m stuck in the basement with my annoying sister and my parents. Someone on the television just said that bombs, nuclear bombs, have landed back east. Dad says we will be fine. That Denver isn’t really a target. I admit I’m scared but I’m also irritated. Does this mean I’ll miss the End of Summer Dance? I can’t. Today was the day I was going to ask Hudson. Why is this happening? I hate my life.

Kyle looked over and flashed the light on Mia. “Sorry you missed your dance.” He frowned and continued reading.

Mom is freaking out and Dad won’t stop pacing. I hope Nana and Papa get here soon. Dad was able to reach them but now the phones don’t work, even my texts have stopped. My sister is crying. I feel bad for her….a little.

The television just stopped working and the power went out. I’m using the light coming from the window to see. I’m officially scared. What is going on?

Kyle paused and said, “The end of the world, sweetheart, the end of the world.”

A bright flash just lit the basement. Mom is sitting next to me holding Olivia, she won’t stop crying. The ground is rumbling, shak…..

Needing to know what she looked like, Kyle skimmed through the book to find a photo. Nothing. The invention of the smartphone made it easier to take pictures, but no one seemed to print them. An entire generation’s worth of photographic history was essentially lost because of THE REBOOT.

August 21. I don’t know why I’m writing in this. No one will ever read it. Dad keeps saying we will be fine, but Mom says otherwise. After the rumbling two days ago, Dad went to go see what happened. He came back right away. Says the house is gone. Knocked down. He says the basement saved our lives. The only window on the back was cracked but didn’t shatter. Dad says all we need to do is wait, that the police or firemen will come soon to help.

Kyle shook his head and thought, How sad.

August 25. Olivia died last night. The rest of us are sick. Dad keeps saying that soon the police or government will come to help. Mom and him argue all the time. I know Dad is lying. He just doesn’t want us to be worried. I’m scared. I don’t want to die. Why did this happen?

Kyle flipped the page. It was blank, he flipped to another only to find it blank as well. He thumbed the remaining pages of the diary. Nothing. August 25th was her last entry. She must have died right after, no doubt from radiation poisoning, he thought.

He put the book on the coffee table and looked over at the family. “I’m sorry this happened to you.” He settled into the couch and closed his eyes. Thoughts of Mia and her family popped into his head. He imagined the dad, scared for his family but helpless. For a parent that most certainly had to be the worst emotion to have.  As he dove deeper into thought, he slipped off into sleep.

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