At the End - a post-apocalyptic novel (The Road to Extinction, Book 1) by John Hennessy Read Free Book Online Page A

scoot over.”
    Jelly got out and went around to the
passenger’s side, flipped the car seat forward so that I could duck
into the back, and eagerly jumped in after I was buckled. Tortilla
got in on the driver’s side.
    “Are we ready to have some fun?” Jacob
asked, also excited. He put the magnetic keypad in its holder on
the dash and tapped the green ON switch. The car came alive with
lights, silent, deadly to anyone listening to music, or looking the
other way. That’s why all electric cars had those fake engine
noises. Jacob checked the car’s vitals. “Full batteries, baby.
We’re ready to fly.” He pressed the garage door opener. Soon we
were looking at the bleak driveway.
    “Don’t kill us, please,” I pleaded.
    But it was too late; he had already pounded
the GO pedal. We burst forth out of there like a fighter jet.
    “I—I read an article on the Trackster. It
can keep a speed of 300 kilometers per hour for over three hours.
No other car in the world can do that,” Jelly said. “Uhrm. It’s one
of the few cars that have a rectenna built right on top. This slick
ride will go forever, as long as the bill is paid. The batteries
will never deplete, though I suppose they could die.”
    “It gets it power directly from the
electrical relay plants?” I asked. I had never heard of that
before. Everything was on the grid. Six years ago, the twenty-year
project to put solar panels in space was finally over, with the
completion of the last Solar Station—one of five—that collected
solar rays around the clock. They transmitted electricity as
microwave energy, then converted the energy back into electricity
at the electrical relay plants, where everything I knew about got
its power. Cars were recharged at home, and at the electricity
stations that replaced all of the old gas stations, not directly
from the relay plants. “Incredible. So you never have to stop at an
electricity station?”
    “Never.”
    “Just incredible,” I said. We could go all
the way to California without stopping; I liked the sound of that.
No, I loved the sound of that. I was enjoying the scenery when
Tortilla tapped my shoulder.
    “I don’t believe it,” Tortilla mumbled.
    “What? What is it?” I asked. I scanned over
his shoulder, out the window, but I couldn’t see anything.
    He jabbed his right index finger toward the
lake, jamming it when he collided with the glass. A yelp escaped
his mouth. “Crap that hurt!” He pointed with his left. “It’s your
axe. I see your axe.”
    “I see it too,” Jelly said.
    “You have an axe?” Jacob asked, incredulous.
He zoomed along, turning with the winding road with precision.
    “Pull over! Pull over!” I yelled. He pulled
the car into a lakeside driveway. We scrambled out of the Trackster
and broke for the shoreline. There it was, floating like the
brilliant alion hacker that it became after it sunk to the depths
of the lake. I picked it up and inspected it. “Yep, it’s mine. See
the initials on the haft.” I showed them where I had engraved ML. I
looked at Tortilla. “Good eye.” I wanted to kiss him again, but I
resisted the urge. I restrained myself, held it all back. I twirled
the slippery weapon with both hands. “I’m back, baby.”
    “Were you ever gone?” Jelly asked me.
    “My dwarven spirit was,” I responded,
putting my axe in the trunk.
    We crammed into the car again, and off we
went, zipping around North Shore Drive. Cars were scattered along
the roadway. “People must have been taken while they were driving,”
Jelly gasped. “While they were driving . . .” He freaked all of us
out when he said that, but no one spoke anything more about the
possibility of abduction while driving.
    North Shore was a narrow, two-lane road, and
Jacob was driving faster than I was comfortable with, much faster.
I glanced at the speedometer: 116 KPH.
    “Can you slow down, bromigo?” I asked. We
were all tense, I could tell.
    “What for? I have it under control.