Grid Down: A Strike against America – An EMP Survival Story- Book One by Roger Hayden

we’re all that’s left.”
    “Don’t say that. My parents and yours. Our friends and family. They’re still out there. Somewhere.” 
    Peter stared outside, keenly examining each home. “Why don’t we search for supplies now? Seems an ideal spot.”
    “Hospital first,” Rob said. “We’ll hit this area on our way back.”
    Mila trailed her finger down the map to the hospital icon. “Five more miles, I think,” she said. “Just stay on 9 West past Sixth Avenue.”
    “I know how to get there from here,” Rob said. He looked over as she folded the map and stuck it in her jeans.
    “OK, then,” Mila said. “Show us the way, hotshot.”
    “Am I witnessing a fight?” Peter asked.
    Rob and Mila laughed. A few more miles down the road, they came upon a series of two-story buildings, complexes, and parking lots filled with vehicles of all kinds and covered in leaves. The unkempt grass was no different from what they had seen earlier—sprouting several feet high on both sides.
    Rob slowed as they neared a small green welcome sign with the word “Tartarus” spray-painted over it.
    Peter squinted and tried to sound it out. “Tar-tar-rus? What does that mean?”
    No one had an answer. Peter looked around nervously.
    “What’s that?” Rob asked. There looked to be a group of people in the distance ahead.
    “It’s people,” Mila said, astonished.
    “Shit! I just saw someone looking out the window of that apartment complex,” Peter said pointing. “Oh! There’s another.”
    Peter turned and looked ahead. “More people! Shit. We should have ditched the truck at the bridge. Now what are we going to do?”
    “Everyone just stay calm,” Rob said. “Keep you pistols at the ready.”
    Upon closer examination, they could see a group of men, ten in all, doing lawn maintenance with manual push mowers—the single strangest thing seen on their journey yet. Rob maintained a steady speed as heads began to turn their way.
    “What are they doing?” Peter asked. He turned and knocked on the back window, alerting Carlos and Brad. “Hey! We got company.”
    Carlos swung his head around and stared through the glass as Brad followed.
    “Cutting grass? Why?” Mila asked in abject wonder.
    “Welcome to Nyack,” Peter said with a nervous laugh.
    There was something stranger than just the fact that they were cutting grass. The men looked dirty and malnourished, as if someone had gathered a group of vagrants together and put them to work. Their tattered clothes and dispirited gaze didn’t provide any comfort.
    Rob’s eyes darted around, looking for anyone else. Three men with rifles emerged from a yard across from the lawn crew, taking a keen interest in the truck’s approach. Rob floored the truck without warning. The engine roared. Mila and Peter flew back. Carlos and Brad tumbled over and hit the floor.
    “Hey!” Mila said.
    “Stay down!” Rob shouted.
    The truck raced past the armed men before they could block their path. Rob wouldn’t have thought twice about running them down. Their faces went by in blurry confusion as the truck sped past, leaving them behind, shouting and running in the distance. Ahead, Rob could see a carefully placed barricade a half-mile away, with cars pushed into every lane, blocking every conceivable spot, so that there was no way to go around it or through it.
    “We have to find a detour to the hospital,” he said as they neared an endless sea of automobiles—like a junkyard for newer cars. Their placement was clearly strategic. They had been put there for a reason. Mila looked around and pointed to the next street coming up on the right.
    “Take a right on Highmount!”
    Rob slammed on the brakes, nearly sending her into the metal dashboard along with Peter. The tires squealed as he jerked the truck in a hard right and floored it down Highmount Avenue. Nothing looked to be blocking their path. Just more strangely vacant buildings, vandalized homes, and leaf-covered