No Ordinary Day , Tate, Harley [ebook offline .TXT] 📗

The flat question zapped her brain. “Oh, um...I don’t know, I guess the lack of an accent?”

“You don’t have one.”

“I’m from Boise. Came out here for college and never went back.”

John didn’t respond and Emma lapsed into silence. He obviously wasn’t interested in sharing about himself and she’d already run her mouth in the car on the way to Zach’s. Maybe enlisting John’s help wasn’t the best idea. “If you—”

“Tell me about CropForward again.”

His request stymied her attempt at offering him an out. “Excuse me?”

“I confess I wasn’t really listening before.” He flashed her a self-deprecating grin. “I didn’t think there was anything to it. I thought you—”

“Were crazy?”

“Something like that.” His smile softened. “Obviously, I’ve changed my mind.”

Emma turned to check on Holly. The poor thing was passed out, mouth open and drooling on her fuzzy pillow. With her adrenaline crashing and grief taking over, Emma was surprised Holly lasted this long. She twisted back around. “Where do you want me to start?”

“Your testimony. Why would it be so dangerous? What’s the real issue?”

Emma thought it over. “The seeds have been hyped for years. If they can quadruple the yield and be resistant to pesticides and herbicides, the crops can be grown in poor soil and climates more susceptible to fungus or insect damage. It basically increases the arable land in the world.”

“So, places without resources could grow their own food?”

“Exactly.” Said like that, she could understand why some countries wouldn’t be interested, but the United States? She frowned.

“What is it?”

“I’m thinking about what Holly said. If the government is really behind this—if the guy who killed Zach was some henchmen for the United States—why would they want to kill us? I’d think they’d want to protect us.”

“I don’t follow.”

“The US is a net exporter of pretty much all agricultural products. If CropForward is successful, then our export business would suffer. More places would grow their own food; they wouldn’t need our wheat or corn or soy.”

John was silent for a few moments. “But if your research is true—if the seeds actually cause a host of problems—then maybe that’s the goal. If places like India and China begin using CropForward seeds, their population levels will begin to decline. In a few generations, they’ll be reeling from lack of young people.”

Emma thought it over. “Why would we want that?”

“Power.” John straightened up in his seat. “It always comes down to power.”

“I still can’t believe it was the government. It had to be CropForward.”

“Corporations don’t usually hire hitmen.”

“How would you know?”

John shrugged. “Too many movies, I guess.”

Emma barked out a laugh and the tension coiled up within her eased. “We haven’t moved in an hour, at least.” She reached for the door handle. “I’m going to stretch my legs.”

The sun hung low in the horizon as Emma wove through the stagnant line of cars. A few vehicles ahead, a group of motorists gathered in a makeshift circle. She smiled as she approached.

“Hi, there.” She gave a small wave.

A woman in athletic gear and a high ponytail slid over to make room. “You sick of waiting, too, huh?”

Emma nodded. “Anyone know what the holdup is?”

A man wearing a Braves baseball cap pointed behind him with his thumb. “Guy in a big rig back a hundred yards said it’s like this all the way to Alpharetta.”

The woman nodded. “Everyone’s trying to get out of the city.”

“Why?”

Everyone in the circle stared at Emma. The man in the ball cap took it off and wiped his brow. “The EMP.”

“The what?”

An older woman with gray hair piled up in a messy bun laughed. “You can’t be serious. Don’t tell me you’re on the way to a movie or something. Honey, we’re in a nationwide pickle.”

Emma swallowed. “I was trapped in an elevator when the power went out at work. All I’ve heard was a tiny snippet on the radio before we lost the station.”

The group rippled as John squeezed in beside her. “What did I miss?”

“Us gawking over your lady friend here.” The older woman waggled her finger. “Tell me you know what’s happened?”

John scratched behind his head. “Can’t say I do. Was hoping you fine people could tell me.”

“Oh, Lordy. Here we go again.” A middle-aged man in a Kennesaw State sweatshirt pointed up toward the sky. “The sun belched. A big ole burst of energy. It hit the earth and zap! There goes the grid, everything connected to it, too. No more power. No more computers. Nothing. All fried.”

Emma glanced at John. “How big of an area?”

“I heard as far as Canada,” volunteered a squat man in glasses.

“I heard down into Mexico. Maybe even South America,” said a young woman with a tattoo snaking over her left arm.

It couldn’t be true. Emma looked around the circle. Everyone seemed in agreement. “What’s going to happen now?”

“Nothing good,” offered the woman who’d first made room. “We figure there’s a few days where people won’t know what’s hit them, when money will still have some value and we can get by. After that—”

“All bets are off.”

“I vote martial law,” Mr. Braves Cap said. “Tanks on the streets, man.”

The man in glasses shook his head. “We’ll have FEMA camps and hot rations in a week.”

Ms. Tattoos disagreed. “Anarchy. That’s the truth.”

Emma couldn’t process any of it. “You’re all talking like this is the end of the world.”

“It is, sort of.” Mr. Kennesaw State pounded a fist into his palm. “The end of the good ole US of A, that’s for sure.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“Then get back in your car, honey.” Ms. Tattoo shooed her with her fingers. “Be just like all the other sheeple out here waiting for Uncle Sam to save them. Baaaa.”

John slipped his hand around Emma’s arm. “We should go.”

Emma moved to pull away, but his grip tightened.

“Don’t want the old lady scared to death, huh, pal?” Mr. Kennesaw State grinned. “I don’t blame ya. Hard to keep ’em in line when they’re running around like a headless chicken.” The man guffawed.

Emma let John lead