The Scorched Earth (Book One of The Scorched Earth Saga) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Terry’s Books

  Copyright Notices

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Terry’s Mailing List

  Preview of The Warlord

  About Terry

  The Scorched Earth

  Book One of The Scorched Earth Saga

  by

  Terry Mixon

  Author Tom Morgan wrote about the end of the world. He never expected to live it.

  Once power failed in Portland, the clock started ticking. Tom must scavenge supplies to get his friends to his home on the Oregon coast.

  Only some covet what he possesses. Death rides shotgun on this desperate drive.

  When power dies, civilization dies. “The Scorched Earth” chronicles the frantic fight for survival as society collapses around one man determined to save those closest him. And the price he must pay to do it.

  Terry’s Books

  You can always find the most up to date listing of Terry’s titles on his Amazon Author Page.

  The Empire of Bones Saga

  Empire of Bones

  Veil of Shadows

  Command Decisions

  Ghosts of Empire

  Paying the Price

  Reconnaissance in Force

  Behind Enemy Lines

  Battle for Terra (coming August 2017)

  The Humanity Unlimited Saga

  Liberty Station

  Freedom Express

  Tree of Liberty (coming June 2017)

  The Fractured Republic Saga

  Storm Divers

  Armed Resistance (coming September 2017)

  The Scorched Earth Saga

  The Scorched Earth

  The Warlord (coming October 2017)

  Want Terry to email you when he publishes a new book or when one goes on sale? Go to TerryMixon.com and sign up for his new releases notification list. Those are the only times he’ll contact you. No spam.

  Copyright Notices

  The Scorched Earth

  Copyright © 2017 by Terry Mixon

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including information storage and/or retrieval systems, or dissemination of any electronic version, without the prior written consent of the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review, and except where permitted by law.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Published by Yowling Cat Press ®

  Edition date: 4/22/2017

  Cover art - image copyrights as follows:

  DepositPhotos/zabelin (Oleg Zabielin)

  Donna Mixon

  Cover design and composition by Donna Mixon

  Reach her at: [email protected]

  Logo design by Emily Karnes

  Reach her at: [email protected]

  Acknowledgements

  This book would not be possible without the love and support of my beautiful wife. Donna, I love you more than life itself.

  Once again, the people who read my books before you see them have saved me. Thanks to Alan Barnes, Jeff Brackett, Michael Falkner, Michael Goad, Cain Hopwood, Edward J. Knight, Kristopher Neidecker, Bob Noble, Andrew Olivier, Jon Paul Olivier, Bill Smith, Tom Stoecklein, and Jason Young for making me look good.

  I also want to thank my readers for putting up with me. You guys are great.

  Chapter One

  “Damn!” the young man guarding the gate at the Portland Expo Center shouted with a grin. “Are you ready for the apocalypse or what?”

  Tom Morgan smiled down at him. “Not yet. Give me a couple of hours.”

  The rent-a-cop looked up at him. He didn’t have much of a choice. Tom sat in an old Army two-and-a-half-ton extended-bed cargo truck that was over ten feet tall. His steering wheel sat almost seven feet off the ground. He called it the Beast.

  “Where you going?” the kid shouted.

  “The gun and prepper show, of course. I’m Tom Morgan with Adler Arms. My name should be on the list.”

  The kid grabbed a clipboard, scanned it, and nodded sharply. “Gotcha right here, Mister Morgan. Let me get you a pass. Vendor parking is around back.”

  Tom really didn’t need directions. He’d been to this particular show many times, though rarely in association with a seller. He usually came to buy. Today was no different.

  He’d arranged for an old friend to add him to the vendor’s list as his employee. Picking up his newest purchase around back would make Tom’s life a lot easier.

  He took the paper pass from the kid and hung it on the rearview mirror. With a wave, he put the Beast into gear and headed towards the back of the Expo Center.

  Cars towing trailers, trucks, and moving vans filled the parking lot. Thankfully, there was still plenty of space available. Maneuvering the Beast into a parking spot was out of the question.

  Even though Tom had made some upgrades to the sturdy cargo truck—including rear wheel steering—the vehicle was still eight feet wide and over twenty-eight feet long, and that didn’t even count the equally rugged ex-Army trailer he was towing behind it.

  Together, the long-bed cargo truck and trailer stretched over forty-two feet and could carry almost eight tons of whatever he wanted. Far more than he could legally move on the public roads without a commercial license, in any case.

  Tom parked lengthwise at the back of the lot, locked the doors with another aftermarket add-on, and opened the hood. It only took him a moment to remove the battery quick-disconnect and stuff it into his pocket.

  He probably didn’t need to worry, but he wasn’t about to take any chances. All he needed was for some idiot to try to take the big truck on a joyride. That would be a disaster.

  Of course, the odds of that were pretty low. Not many kids these days knew how to drive a stick shift, much less one in anon-standard pattern. He just didn’t feel like taking any chances. Not when the North Koreans might send them straight to hell at any moment.

  The ramps leading onto the loading dock at the back of the Expo Center were busy with vendors moving their product inside or carting things back to their vehicles. A number of people stood around drinking coffee in the cool fall air while stinking the place up with cigarettes.

  Tom ignored the stench and forged his way inside. He was pleased to see that there were no guards at the rear entrances or signs prohibiting the legal carry of concealed weapons.

  With gun shows, the police always set up in front to make sure that no on
e came in with a loaded weapon, but they rarely checked in back. They just assumed the vendors would follow the Expo Center rules.

  Shoppers packed the huge building, examining guns and gear of all kinds. Vendors at the gun and prepper show had everything under the sun that might appeal to folks like him. The preparedness angle was a new trend, but one he wholeheartedly approved of.

  Tom found Moshe Adler at his booth telling a story to a couple examining the pistols laid out on the table. Moshe knew how to tell some grand tales. Tom had used bits and pieces of them in his own work on occasion

  Moshe was about twenty years older than Tom with thinning white hair. He was also significantly shorter. Even though his old friend had lived in the United States for over thirty years, Tom could still hear his homeland in his voice. An Israeli accent was very distinctive, even when eroded by years living in a new place.

  Tom gave his friend a nod and looked over the array of weapons while he waited his turn. There was quite a selection, both semi-automatic and revolver. A few of them looked interesting, but nothing Tom wanted to pick up today.

  The couple left without committing to anything and Moshe turned toward him with a smile. “You made it! How was traffic?”

  Tom grimaced. “Portland traffic is bad at the best of times, but it’s truly terrible when I’m driving the Beast. I was able to get up to about fifty miles an hour on the highway with the new tires, but it was slow once I got to town. Very slow. Believe me, I was popular.”

  Moshe laughed. “I’ll bet. Have you already picked up that big purchase of yours?”

  Tom shook his head. “No. I just got here. I’ll come back around when I’m done loading it.”

  The older man nodded. “Sure, sure. Are you going to be able to get all that stuff into your truck by yourself? I could help.”

  “I appreciate the thought, but Randy Caldwell is going to help me.”

  Moshe nodded again. “Do you really think this North Korean thing is that serious? Your new stuff didn’t come cheap.”

  Tom smiled without humor. “That depends. Do you really think North Korea and Iran need their own constellation of GPS satellites, or whatever they call them?”

  The other man sighed. “I suppose not. You think they have nuclear weapons up there?”

  “It’s hard to imagine anything else. I know a guy in Washington DC that works in intelligence. The government is sure the North Koreans are putting up a mix of spy satellites and EMP devices. Probably to use as a threat rather than a preemptive strike, but you never know.

  “Anyway, I’m hoping for the best and planning for the worst. If things turn ugly, you grab Rachel and head out to my place. You’ll be safe there.”

  Moshe’s daughter was a recent immigrant from Israel. Tom didn’t know her that well, but he’d like to change that. She was both beautiful and tough. And far out of his league.

  “We appreciate it,” the older man said solemnly. “I hope we never need to, but I’ve read a few of your books. Scary stuff. How’s the new one coming?”

  “Pretty good. I figure I’ll be done with the first draft in another week. I’ll publish it in a month or two.”

  “Already? You just got finished publishing one. What is that? Seven this year?”

  Tom shook his head with a grin. “Nine. I have a different one that’ll be ready to go out next week. I’m on course to get a dozen published this year.”

  “I don’t see how you can write that fast,” the old man complained. “I can barely read a book a month.”

  “Slower doesn’t mean better, Moshe. As an indie author and publisher, speed is my friend. I can write just as well without going through half a dozen revisions. Hell, that kind of stuff strips the author’s voice right out of the story. I wish more people understood that.”

  Moshe shook his head. “If you say so. You go take care of your business and I’ll be right here when you get back. Oh, and I have a surprise for you. You’ll like it, so don’t sneak off.”

  “Why does that fill me with dread?” Tom asked his friend wryly. “This shouldn’t take more than an hour. Don’t do anything crazy while I’m gone.”

  “I’m an old man,” Moshe called after him. “I’ll take any crazy I can get.”

  Tom laughed and walked away.

  Moshe was right about one thing. He was a lucky man to be able to make a living writing and publishing books. Not only did that allow him to set his own schedule, it gave him the freedom to do what he loved. In this case, that meant telling stories set in science-fiction universes and post-apocalyptic fiction.

  Not exactly the career field his late father had encouraged him to pursue, but a surprisingly lucrative one nevertheless.

  Tom found Randy Caldwell set up in a large booth at the rear of the Expo Center. That made sense. Solar panels took up a lot of space.

  Caldwell was a slender and somewhat geeky young man. What else did one expect of an MIT graduate?

  Tom raised his hand in greeting. “Randy.”

  The young engineer smiled. “Tom, it’s good to see you. I have everything out back in a rental truck. I’ll leave Jenna here to run the booth while we get it moved. Did you bring a big vehicle? The panels and supports are relatively large and you ordered a lot of batteries.”

  He grinned at the engineer. “I wouldn’t worry about that. You’ll see.”

  The two of them made their way out to the parking lot. Caldwell laughed when he saw the Beast. “Oh yeah. You’re not going to have any trouble moving this load. Christ, how much can that damn thing carry?”

  “More than I can legally drive,” Tom said. “It’s rated up to ten thousand pounds of cargo on pavement, and five thousand off road. Add in the trailer and I could conceivably move almost sixteen thousand pounds. I’d need a commercial license to fill it up.”

  “Wow. I never expected to see something like this up close. Okay, so what are you thinking? Solar panels in the vehicle and batteries in the trailer? How big is the truck bed?”

  “Sixteen feet deep by eight across. The trailer can hold a bit more than nine feet depth-wise and almost seven across.

  “If you’ll bring your truck over, we’ll get everything loaded. I’ll drop the tarps to keep everything out of sight when we’re done. I still have a few things to pick up inside and I’d rather not have anyone try to abscond with all these solar panels.”

  The engineer raised an eyebrow. “Abscond? Those ruffians. Your writer is showing.”

  Tom laughed. “I can’t help myself.”

  It took the two of them longer than Tom had expected to move all of the solar panels, struts, electric motors, and batteries from the engineer’s truck into the Beast.

  Once they finished, the young man used a handkerchief to wipe his brow. “That’s a lot of solar capacity. You must have quite the house, particularly on the coast. It’s usually pretty overcast there, isn’t it?”

  “There are plenty of clear days, but then you get dreary ones, too. Add in the occasional storm with hundred mile an hour straight-line winds for a change of pace and you have the Oregon coast.”

  “Like the storm blowing in now?”

  The other man meant the remnants of a typhoon that were going to hit Oregon or Washington State sometime in the next couple of days. It promised a lot of rain and some damaging winds.

  If it actually hit the Oregon coast, it would be epic. Tom wanted to be home by then so he could button everything up tight.

  Tom nodded. “Exactly like that. It’s the price I pay for living in such a beautiful area. Don’t worry about it, though. All the weak limbs and trees are already gone. I’ve got a protected location to install these. They’ll be well shielded from the winds.”

  The other man shook his head. “Suit yourself. I’m a lot happier in Nevada where the sun is always shining.”

  “That’s something of an understatement. I’ll take the cooler weather, thanks.”

  Randy laughed. “Let me get the printed materials for you. The instruction
s are straightforward and you shouldn’t have any trouble getting everything set up. The sensors and motors will work together to track the sun as it moves, generating the maximum power. Even on overcast days, you’ll still get some energy.

  “With all those batteries, you won’t have any trouble maintaining power for three or four days during bad weather. Longer if you shut down as much as you can. Hell, on the good days you’ll be selling energy back to the grid. You might even pay this all off in a decade or so.”

  Enough solar panels to power his house completely and charge far more batteries than he actually needed had cost him just over $40,000. Hype aside, he wouldn’t be paying that back anytime soon.

  Used in conjunction with the whole house propane generator he’d picked up last year, this should keep the lights on for a very long time if the grid went down.

  He needed to bite the bullet and finish filling the large propane tank he’d bought from a commercial company that had gone bankrupt over the summer. It could hold sixty-five hundred gallons, but he’d only bought fifteen hundred.

  Propane wasn’t cheap enough for him to do it all at once. Added to the five hundred gallon tank he already had, he’d thought he had enough. That had been before the North Koreans and their antics. One more thing to take care of after he got home.

  He’d dipped deeply into his inheritance with all these purchases, but in times like these, he considered it money well spent.

  Honestly, the solar panels were more disaster preparedness than prepping. He might write about the end of the world as we know it—or TEOTWAWKI—but he was more concerned that the West Coast was overdue for a devastating earthquake.

  It might happen next year, next decade, or long after he was dead. No one knew.

  When it did, it was going to cut the Oregon coast off from the rest of the state. The roads that went over the mountains would become impassable and the electric grid would vanish.