Radioactive and The Decay Dystopian Super Boxset- A Dirty Bomb and Nuclear Blast Prepper Tale of Survival Read Online Free
Author: Roger Hayden, James Hunt
vehicles scattered around the base. The crowds from the U.S.S. Midway Museum were half-awestruck and half-panicked. The majority of the people had been evacuated from the immediate area, and all of them seemed to spill into the road, clogging up traffic.
Police arrived in droves and started herding the tourists away from the harbor and roping off sections of the base. Jim wanted to get out before they were stuck there for questioning.
Drivers became restless as the crowds thickened and patience dwindled. Horns and shouts from all over could be heard for miles. The EMS vehicles flipped on their sirens as cars tried to make room for them to pass.
A military officer walked to one of the upset drivers and tapped his AR-15 on the glass of his driver side window. “Honking won’t make it go any faster, pal.” The driver sank back into his seat and took his hand off the horn.
Jim was right on the curb in between the intersection and the highway. “If we can make it up to the street, I can jump the median and get on the interstate back to my place.” Jim drummed his fingers on the steering wheel then opened up his glove box for a pen and paper. He shoved the pen and paper into Coyle’s hands. “Make an inventory of everything in the truck. Tools, maps, food, everything.”
Coyle rummaged through the glove box, checked behind the seats, and got out into the bed of the truck and wrote down everything that he could find. He climbed back into the truck after the survey. During that time they had moved about a foot. He handed the list to Jim, who looked it over. “Not bad. We could be in a worse situation.”
Coyle surveyed the massive, un-orderly exit of families on vacation and turned to look at Jim, who was still studying the paper in his hands. “Jim, what the hell happened back there? What kind of a blast does that to a military naval ship?”
“It was probably a dirty bomb. Terrorists will take a dynamite base explosive with a radioactive component to enhance the blast radius and sheer power.”
All of the frustration, fear, and anger that Coyle had been feeling came pouring out. He punched the front dashboard repeatedly. “Goddamnit! How could have this happened? We’re on a military base!” He paused for a second. “In San Diego!”
“Knock it off! You’re going to bring attention to us, which I would like avoid,” Jim said.
Coyle slammed his head back into the headrest. Jim put his hand on his shoulder as he spoke. “The San Diego Naval Base is the central logistical hub for the entire southwest region of the United States. It’s homeport for the Pacific fleet and is also one of the Navy’s formal training grounds. It’s a perfect target for somebody wanting to hurt the United States.”
A horn honked behind them, and Jim noticed that traffic had picked up a bit and he lurched forward. He was able to pass the intersection and jump onto the highway, where he went twenty over the speed limit.
The truck pulled into Jim’s driveway and he jumped out. Coyle followed suit and started to reach in the back to grab their gear. Jim stopped him. “Leave it. We won’t be long.”
“We’re not staying here?”
“No, we have to get out of the city.”
Jim swung the front door open and ran to the small closet in the hallway. He pulled the backpack out and placed it in the hallway, then took out his keys and put the smallest in the lock of the black safe that lined the inside of the closet. He opened it to reveal a shotgun with a tactical grip, an AR-15 with a scope, two 9mm pistols, and stacks of ammo for each. The assault rifle would be good for any combat situations, and he had a variety of shells for the 12-gauge for hunting ranging from the big buckshot shells to the “number four” shells for duck hunting. Jim grabbed a large duffel bag from the top and started emptying the safe.
Jim pulled a holster out and
Police arrived in droves and started herding the tourists away from the harbor and roping off sections of the base. Jim wanted to get out before they were stuck there for questioning.
Drivers became restless as the crowds thickened and patience dwindled. Horns and shouts from all over could be heard for miles. The EMS vehicles flipped on their sirens as cars tried to make room for them to pass.
A military officer walked to one of the upset drivers and tapped his AR-15 on the glass of his driver side window. “Honking won’t make it go any faster, pal.” The driver sank back into his seat and took his hand off the horn.
Jim was right on the curb in between the intersection and the highway. “If we can make it up to the street, I can jump the median and get on the interstate back to my place.” Jim drummed his fingers on the steering wheel then opened up his glove box for a pen and paper. He shoved the pen and paper into Coyle’s hands. “Make an inventory of everything in the truck. Tools, maps, food, everything.”
Coyle rummaged through the glove box, checked behind the seats, and got out into the bed of the truck and wrote down everything that he could find. He climbed back into the truck after the survey. During that time they had moved about a foot. He handed the list to Jim, who looked it over. “Not bad. We could be in a worse situation.”
Coyle surveyed the massive, un-orderly exit of families on vacation and turned to look at Jim, who was still studying the paper in his hands. “Jim, what the hell happened back there? What kind of a blast does that to a military naval ship?”
“It was probably a dirty bomb. Terrorists will take a dynamite base explosive with a radioactive component to enhance the blast radius and sheer power.”
All of the frustration, fear, and anger that Coyle had been feeling came pouring out. He punched the front dashboard repeatedly. “Goddamnit! How could have this happened? We’re on a military base!” He paused for a second. “In San Diego!”
“Knock it off! You’re going to bring attention to us, which I would like avoid,” Jim said.
Coyle slammed his head back into the headrest. Jim put his hand on his shoulder as he spoke. “The San Diego Naval Base is the central logistical hub for the entire southwest region of the United States. It’s homeport for the Pacific fleet and is also one of the Navy’s formal training grounds. It’s a perfect target for somebody wanting to hurt the United States.”
A horn honked behind them, and Jim noticed that traffic had picked up a bit and he lurched forward. He was able to pass the intersection and jump onto the highway, where he went twenty over the speed limit.
The truck pulled into Jim’s driveway and he jumped out. Coyle followed suit and started to reach in the back to grab their gear. Jim stopped him. “Leave it. We won’t be long.”
“We’re not staying here?”
“No, we have to get out of the city.”
Jim swung the front door open and ran to the small closet in the hallway. He pulled the backpack out and placed it in the hallway, then took out his keys and put the smallest in the lock of the black safe that lined the inside of the closet. He opened it to reveal a shotgun with a tactical grip, an AR-15 with a scope, two 9mm pistols, and stacks of ammo for each. The assault rifle would be good for any combat situations, and he had a variety of shells for the 12-gauge for hunting ranging from the big buckshot shells to the “number four” shells for duck hunting. Jim grabbed a large duffel bag from the top and started emptying the safe.
Jim pulled a holster out and
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