Our End Of The Lake: Surviving After The 2012 Solar Storm (Prepper Trilogy) Read Online Free
Author: Ron Foster
Tags: Fiction, Survival, 2012, post apocalyptic, End of the world, survivor, survivalist, teotwawki, prepper, shtf, preppers, lake, EMP, preparedness, solar storm, retreat, electromagnetic pulse
look.
“Well, the way I see it we are 5 or 6 hours into this thing. The recognition of the SHTF is now just dawning on the majority of the Sheeple, but look around the parasites are already gathering to plot and scheme some dastardly deeds”.
“Yeah, I been noticing that last mile or two,” said Truck. “The homeless and the gang banger types are seeming to be coming out of the wood works and just waiting for nightfall or something else to happen”.
“Exactly,” I responded. “Let’s take a break and I will tell you my plan.”
5
The Last Supper or Going Dumpster Diving
“You see, Dumpster” I said.
“Hey, don’t call me that!” he snarled back, but actually came off looking like a hurt little schoolboy much to his chagrin.
“Ok, no problem, Dump. You see these restaurants up ahead are the ritzy type mostly and the patrons will be either gone or still having partying in the bars possibly.”
“Yeah, so what? How does that help us get a meal?” he said, rubbing his noggin with a dinner plate sized hand.
“Well,” I replied, “’Hard times make for hard decisions’.” .I advised. “A lot of food is going to get left on plates in the restaurants part eaten.”
“Oh, hell no!” Dump objected.
“That’s funny,” I said, “You don’t look like a picky eater.” I poked at him.
“We got some food, we don’t have to do that crap.” whined Dump.
“How far is it to just get to the edge of Atlanta from here?” I asked.
He pondered for a minute, “Maybe 20-30 miles?”
I said, “Yup, and we on the close end of this place to go south. It’s going to take us two or three days to just get to the first exit. Believe me, as unpalatable as snagging a half eaten steak that has been sitting on somebody’s plate for a few hours sounds, we need to eat while we can easily get it.”
“Steak, huh? That doesn’t sound so bad now. I can deal with that.” he replied.
“Speaking of night zombies, after we chow down we are going to jump the embankment down to the interstate. I don’t want to get caught in the downtown area when the sun goes down.”
“It already sounds like the natives are getting restless,” he replied, as gunfire echoed off in the not so far distance.
“I am not so much worried about them at the moment. You notice how much more smoky and hazy it’s gotten?”
Truck said, “Now that you mention it, yeah, it has and it’s not that same ozone smell of the transformers blowing either.”
I started scanning around said, “It’s hard to see exactly what’s going on in the sky from under these skyscrapers.” and then I stopped mid track. Hartsfield Airport was sort of on the track we were headed and was probably a burning inferno by now.
I explained to Dump that planes would have been falling out of the sky, running into each other on the tarmac etc., just like a lot of the wrecks we saw on the road we were traveling, because of the EMP. We might be heading into a hellfire and not even know it, if enough things get to burning a phenomenon called a fire wind is created and just like a forest fire, whoosh it’s on you before you know it.
The Fate’s sure were having fun messing up my dinner plans today. Ok, time to regroup and do a risk assessment. I told The Dump that according to my educated risk assessment the chances of that whole huge airport eventually burning to the ground were more likely than not and we needed to skirt it best we could. The highway 85 running to our right was our best route to get away from the congested downtown area, but it might not be the best choice either.
“Why is that?” Truck moaned, as the various complexities of our day were getting a bit much for him to wrap his head around.
“You know how many 18 wheelers come through the highways here? No telling what they are carrying.” I replied.
“You mean possible HazMat spills?” Dump asked.
“You have been listening to Jack and Blake talking.” I said with a
“Well, the way I see it we are 5 or 6 hours into this thing. The recognition of the SHTF is now just dawning on the majority of the Sheeple, but look around the parasites are already gathering to plot and scheme some dastardly deeds”.
“Yeah, I been noticing that last mile or two,” said Truck. “The homeless and the gang banger types are seeming to be coming out of the wood works and just waiting for nightfall or something else to happen”.
“Exactly,” I responded. “Let’s take a break and I will tell you my plan.”
5
The Last Supper or Going Dumpster Diving
“You see, Dumpster” I said.
“Hey, don’t call me that!” he snarled back, but actually came off looking like a hurt little schoolboy much to his chagrin.
“Ok, no problem, Dump. You see these restaurants up ahead are the ritzy type mostly and the patrons will be either gone or still having partying in the bars possibly.”
“Yeah, so what? How does that help us get a meal?” he said, rubbing his noggin with a dinner plate sized hand.
“Well,” I replied, “’Hard times make for hard decisions’.” .I advised. “A lot of food is going to get left on plates in the restaurants part eaten.”
“Oh, hell no!” Dump objected.
“That’s funny,” I said, “You don’t look like a picky eater.” I poked at him.
“We got some food, we don’t have to do that crap.” whined Dump.
“How far is it to just get to the edge of Atlanta from here?” I asked.
He pondered for a minute, “Maybe 20-30 miles?”
I said, “Yup, and we on the close end of this place to go south. It’s going to take us two or three days to just get to the first exit. Believe me, as unpalatable as snagging a half eaten steak that has been sitting on somebody’s plate for a few hours sounds, we need to eat while we can easily get it.”
“Steak, huh? That doesn’t sound so bad now. I can deal with that.” he replied.
“Speaking of night zombies, after we chow down we are going to jump the embankment down to the interstate. I don’t want to get caught in the downtown area when the sun goes down.”
“It already sounds like the natives are getting restless,” he replied, as gunfire echoed off in the not so far distance.
“I am not so much worried about them at the moment. You notice how much more smoky and hazy it’s gotten?”
Truck said, “Now that you mention it, yeah, it has and it’s not that same ozone smell of the transformers blowing either.”
I started scanning around said, “It’s hard to see exactly what’s going on in the sky from under these skyscrapers.” and then I stopped mid track. Hartsfield Airport was sort of on the track we were headed and was probably a burning inferno by now.
I explained to Dump that planes would have been falling out of the sky, running into each other on the tarmac etc., just like a lot of the wrecks we saw on the road we were traveling, because of the EMP. We might be heading into a hellfire and not even know it, if enough things get to burning a phenomenon called a fire wind is created and just like a forest fire, whoosh it’s on you before you know it.
The Fate’s sure were having fun messing up my dinner plans today. Ok, time to regroup and do a risk assessment. I told The Dump that according to my educated risk assessment the chances of that whole huge airport eventually burning to the ground were more likely than not and we needed to skirt it best we could. The highway 85 running to our right was our best route to get away from the congested downtown area, but it might not be the best choice either.
“Why is that?” Truck moaned, as the various complexities of our day were getting a bit much for him to wrap his head around.
“You know how many 18 wheelers come through the highways here? No telling what they are carrying.” I replied.
“You mean possible HazMat spills?” Dump asked.
“You have been listening to Jack and Blake talking.” I said with a
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