EMP Catastrophe , Hamilton, Grace [phonics readers txt] 📗

“Of course,” Wyatt said and stood up. He gave David a strained smile and took the empty glass. “I’ll get you more before you head back home.”

“Really, you don’t have to,” David protested.

Wyatt waved him off. “No use being alive if you can’t be kind,” he said, and left the room.

As soon as he was gone, Jade turned to look at David. “Matt will not be happy,” she said. “He won’t agree to any of this.”

David shushed her even as his determination became stronger. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I know my son. I’ll figure it out.”

18

Max’s breath whooshed out of him when one of Colin’s goons kicked him in the kidneys. He barely managed to catch his next breath before another kick landed in his stomach. He curled up in a ball on the pavement, but he knew that such a meager defense would only last so long. With four men attacking him, Max had very little time before he was roadkill. This was worse than any prison beatdown he’d endured. His legs curled up to protect his stomach. His arms crisscrossed across his head to save his face, but even then, he wasn’t able to stop a fist from colliding with his eye. His healing ribs began to ache again as the new beating opened up old wounds. He could barely think.

If he didn’t act fast, there would be no way he would survive this. Out here, Colin didn’t have to worry about guards breaking up the fight. He could take his time, debilitating Max until escape would look like a dream. Max had to fight back before he was injured any further.

Blindly, he punched out and heard laughter above him. Colin and his gang thought Max was weak. Maybe he could use that to his advantage. He took a couple more punches and amplified his cries so he sounded worse off than he was. He whimpered and cowered, trying to look as small and pathetic as possible.

“Whoa, guys, take it easy on the little bird. We still need to take him back,” Colin said lazily.

Another kick caught Max between the ribs and he gasped in pain, but at least the frequency of kicks had lessened. Now was his only time to strike. He kicked out with his feet and heard the satisfying crunch and cry as his heel collided with an ankle. He rebounded onto all fours and rammed into the legs of another man, managing to topple the guy over him. He landed a couple of quick punches to the guy’s side before slithering out from under him and bolting down the freeway.

“Come back here!” Colin screamed behind him. “I said get back here, you piece of—”

But Max’s blood roared in his ears as he launched himself over the interstate and up the hill. The climb made his legs burn as he scurried around dead cars, crouching to stay low. Hopefully, he could lose Colin and his gang here, but their cries and the pounding of their feet were far too close.

He had no idea what to do. His sides ached and it felt as though he couldn’t bring in enough air. He hoped nothing inside him was bleeding or broken, because there wouldn’t be a hospital or doctor to come to his aid. Luckily, his bag was still attached to his shoulders, even though it felt as though it had been packed with bricks. He might be able to manage some kind of treatment with the first aid kit.

Desperately, he started pulling on car doors. Maybe he could figure out a way to hot-wire one of them, but his head was swimming from a particularly well-aimed punch, and even if he found a likely car, he wasn’t sure he could manage. He might not have a choice, though. There was nothing else before him but miles of asphalt and dead vehicles with hardly any place to hide. He needed a moment of peace to think. To figure out what to do next. He’d almost rounded the top of the hill and could see the expanse below uncluttered with cars and a bridge crossing the small creek.

He dodged through a set of cars and frantically yanked on a copper-colored Isuzu Trooper from the ’80s. It opened, and he slipped into the driver seat, gasping for air. “C’mon, c’mon,” he said as he wrenched the plastic panel under the wheel down and out. In the rearview mirror, he caught sight of the shapes of Colin’s goons running up the hill. Getting closer by the minute. His hand naturally drifted to the stick shift.

“Hallelujah.” He laughed and pushed in the clutch, slamming the shift into neutral. The car was balanced on the pinnacle of the hill where it could go backwards or forwards. He rocked forward as if his weight would help and felt the give of the car begin to move on its own down the hill. Max placed his hands on the wheel and tried to steer it around a Ford Taurus, but the wheel jerked in his hands as if concrete blocks had been erected on either side. Steering column locked. Fear dumped into his bloodstream. Before him, the interstate was less cluttered than he’d seen, but vehicles were still parked on the road. There was nothing he could do but hope he could get through the maze without a serious crash. The need to put space between him and his attackers was like a blaring neon sign in the back of his mind.

The Isuzu skirted the Taurus, but still bashed out the side mirror. “Sorry!” Max said out of reflex and hoped that no one was around to see it. Moments later, the Isuzu rammed into the bumper of another small car, taking out the headlight with a crunch and crash. The Isuzu was picking up speed, and his world began to pass him by in a blur. He had no control. Looking behind him, he could see a man stopped