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  No Ordinary Day

  A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller

  Harley Tate

  Copyright © 2021 by Harley Tate. Cover and internal design © by Harley Tate. Cover image copyright © Deposit Photos and NeoStock, 2021.

  All rights reserved.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  The use of stock photo images in this e-book in no way imply that the models depicted personally endorse, condone, or engage in the fictional conduct depicted herein, expressly or by implication. The person(s) depicted are models and are used for illustrative purposes only.

  Contents

  No Ordinary Day

  1. Emma

  2. John

  3. Emma

  4. Holly

  5. John

  6. Emma

  7. John

  8. Emma

  9. Emma

  10. Holly

  11. Emma

  12. John

  13. Emma

  14. Emma

  15. John

  16. Emma

  17. John

  18. Emma

  19. John

  20. Emma

  21. John

  22. Emma

  23. John

  24. Emma

  25. John

  26. Emma

  27. John

  Also by Harley Tate

  Acknowledgments

  About Harley Tate

  No Ordinary Day

  A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller

  If the power grid collapses, will you be prepared?

  Emma bides her time as a temporary lab tech, counting the days until she stands up before Congress to testify against her former employer. When the power goes out during a ride down the elevator for lunch, a handsome stranger offers to help.

  When the odds are stacked against you, what will you do to survive?

  John might appear like an average good guy, but underneath, he’s a seasoned killer. Hired to snuff out an unsuspecting whistleblower, he’s more than prepared to handle a little blackout.

  As society crumbles, everyone is put to the test.

  With limited communication and chaos unfolding outside, Emma and John forge a tenuous alliance. Will the pair survive the end of the world as we know it, or will nothing stand in the way of a hitman’s mission?

  The EMP is only the beginning.

  No Ordinary Day is book one in the No Ordinary Day series, a post-apocalyptic thriller series following ordinary people struggling to survive when an EMP plunges the United States into chaos.

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  Chapter One

  Emma

  “It’s going to be another scorcher today folks, with temperatures easily reaching the low nineties and humidity not far behind. Hope you have an air-conditioned spot to relax this afternoon.”

  Emma blew out a puff of breath and stared at the weather forecaster’s perfect teeth as he smiled. Air-conditioning. The one good thing about her current employment situation. That and it paid the rent, if not much else.

  She stepped into the shower as the news turned to traffic, the rush of water drowning out the list of accidents slowing the eighth-most congested city in the world. “It’s only for a little while longer.” She said the words out loud as she shampooed, fingers running through the tangles a hard night’s sleep always brought.

  For the past few months, every night dragged on, the minutes ticking over one by one as she replayed her first phone call with the Department of Justice. If she hadn’t picked up that phone, if Zach and Gloria hadn’t convinced her it was the right thing to do…

  Her thoughts trailed off along with the water as she turned off the shower and reached for a towel, but the news wouldn’t let her off that easy.

  “Agricultural powerhouse CropForward, who employs over 20,000 workers here in Georgia alone, is about to be in the hot seat. Whistleblowers claim the company is burying bad results in safety trials of a new seed line called Seeds of the Future, where almost all company energy has been focused for years. Brett?”

  Emma dried her hair as a reporter held one hand up to his ear, waiting for his turn to speak. As the feed caught up, he nodded. “That’s right, Monica. I’m standing here, outside CropForward’s Atlanta offices, where sources say management has been hard at work preparing to set the record straight.”

  Right. Emma rubbed the towel hard across her skin as the reporter continued.

  “Ever since a handful of whistleblowers came forward, alleging alarming results with the animal trials of CropForward’s signature line of genetically modified super-seeds, the company has closed ranks. A CropForward spokesperson told us the upcoming Congressional hearings will expose these claims as nothing more than baseless attacks from disgruntled former employees.”

  Emma closed her eyes. The easy thing to do would be to walk away. Tell someone in DOJ that she was wrong, it was all a misunderstanding, and the science was sound. But if she refused to testify, she would drop off the radar and the focus would zero in on Zach and Gloria. It might help Emma in the short term, but it wouldn’t solve anything.

  Not now.

  The news droned on as Emma tugged on pants, a blouse, and a sweater. The lab she temped in maintained a strict sixty-eight degrees in stark contrast to the outside air. She froze indoors for eight hours a day and sweated the rest. But it was a job in a lab using at least a few of her skills. She hadn’t been completely blacklisted yet.

  As she hurried to grab her laptop bag and slip on her shoes, an up-close image of the sun, surface rippling and popping like lava from a volcano, filled the screen. She clicked the television off. Whatever NASA had discovered could wait. She couldn’t be late. This might be the only job she would have for a good, long while. She needed to keep it.

  Throwing the door open, she rushed into the already warm and sticky morning air. Another scorcher is right. As she locked the front door to her apartment, the back of her neck pricked like someone was watching. She glanced to her left. Strange. No one there. She frowned at herself.

  The feeling of being watched had been all too common lately. Everyone from the mail carrier to the secretary to the head researcher at her temp job; she’d caught them all staring. Were they trying to figure out if she was crazy or just had a death wish?

  CropForward was the largest agricultural research company in the world, manufacturing everything from pesticide to fertilizer to seeds specifically engineered to resist both. Thanks to their products, the world produced enough food to feed one and a half times the current global population. No one wanted to go back to the days of global food insecurity and lower yields that could be destroyed by a single weather event or insect infestation.

  And Emma wholeheartedly agreed. It’s why she turned down working on her family’s farm back in Idaho and, as her father put it, sold out to work for big agriculture. But there was a difference between feeding the world and making them sick.

  “Stop worrying and get yourself together.” She muttered the words to herself as she walked to her car. Her upcoming testimony before Congress would soon be out there for the whole world to see. Maybe after she testified, she could finally sleep at night.

  As she started her car, a black sedan eased through the parking lot and onto the street. The hairs on the back of her neck pricked again. Three days ago, Gloria reached out, complaining about being followed. Emma pulled up the text exchange on her phone.


  Gloria: Have you noticed anyone lurking around?

  Emma: No. Have you?

  Gloria: A black car. It parked outside my place two nights in a row.

  Emma: Could be anyone.

  Gloria: I don’t think so. Keep your eyes open.

  Emma frowned. Was Gloria really being watched? She risked a quick glance out the window. The black car was gone. It was a coincidence, right?

  She fired off a quick text to ease her mind. How are you? Any more watchers?

  After slipping the phone into her bag, she pulled out of the apartment complex and headed south into town. If she hurried, she could still grab a bite to eat and make it to work on time.

  Twenty minutes later, the drive-thru line for Nancy’s Bagels stretched the length of the shop and onto the street. Emma groaned. She didn’t have time to wait in that line. From the looks of it, only a handful of regulars sat in the window booths. After everything with CropForward, she’d taken to drive-thru only to avoid any uncomfortable conversations.

  She could skip breakfast, but that meant stale coffee and an unpleasant conversation with whomever was lurking in the break room as she used the vending machine. With a deep breath, Emma swung into the closest parking spot.

  “Emma! Hey, I haven’t seen you outside of your car in months.” Dave, the college kid who manned the morning rush every day smiled as she walked inside. “I forgot how tall you are!”

  Emma smiled, trepidation fleeing at his warm reception. “Five eight and a half, thank you very much.”

  “Your usual?”

  She glanced up at the board. “Let’s change it up today. An everything with extra cream cheese and a medium coffee.”

  “You got it.”

  As she waited for her order, Emma walked over to the coffee station with an empty cup.

  “You following the news?” One of the regulars nodded up toward the TV.

  Oh, no. Not again. Emma braced herself as she looked up, ready to see CropForward’s logo plastered across the TV, but instead a video of what looked like a huge fireball bursting from the sun filled the screen. She shook her head at the older man. “Can’t say that I have. What is it?”

  “A CME. Like the Carrington Event.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “I thought a scientist like you would know for sure.” He waved a boney, gnarled finger at her lab coat. “A coronal mass ejection. It can knock out electricity for hundreds of miles.”

  “Seriously?” Emma glanced back at the TV. According to the closed captioning, NASA believed the CME would be mild, with effects limited to a show of the northern lights as low as Colorado and some mild GPS disruptions. It must have been the same story carried on the morning news she watched at home. “It doesn’t sound that bad to me.”

  “You always believe everything you see on TV?”

  Emma blinked. “No. I don’t.” She thought of all the CropForward ads touting the safety of their Seeds of the Future when rats she cared for in the lab were going sterile and losing all their hair. Maybe she shouldn’t be so dismissive. “When will this happen?’

  “Estimates are later today. If I were you, I’d make sure I had everything I needed if the power goes out.”

  Emma looked around, thinking. What would she need? Extra food? Candles? She glanced at her watch. No time to stop. Whatever she needed would have to wait until after work.

  “Order for Emma!”

  “That’s me. Thanks for the chat.”

  “You be careful. Even good people have to make hard choices sometimes.”

  Emma paused. Was he still talking about the sun? She glanced up at the TV and noted the time. Crap! She had to get going. Emma nodded her thanks, hurried to grab her breakfast, and rushed out the door.

  At five to nine, she pulled into the parking deck and squeezed into the empty electric spot. The best thing about driving a Chevy Volt was the guaranteed parking spot right outside the elevator. With her bag shoved under her shoulder and her half-a-bagel-breakfast sandwiched between her teeth, she plugged in the car and ran for the elevator.

  The doors slid open a moment after Emma pushed the button and she rushed on. The only other occupant was a man in his thirties wearing a black, close-fitting sweater and an expression that told her he couldn’t care less. What was that song about smiling once in a while? He’d definitely look a whole lot better if he loosened up.

  Not that there wasn’t something appealing about his tight jaw and obvious level of fitness, but she doubted any man would be interested in her now. She could see the first date in her head.

  Mr. Elevator, a businessman with an upward trajectory in life, smiling over a glass of merlot. “And what do you do?”

  “Oh, I’m an agricultural research scientist. Not really working in my field right now, though.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because I’m about to testify to Congress about how one of the biggest employers in the city is willing to poison millions of people for profit.”

  The last thing she would see was his jacket as he walked out the door, sticking her with the bill.

  Emma snorted at her own imagination before pressing the button for the fifth floor.

  Chapter Two

  John

  Do I have something in my teeth? John ran his tongue along his gumline. No. He looked down. Fly buttoned. Clothes pressed. Nothing obvious to generate a way-too-long stare. He shrugged. Maybe she’s as crazy as they claim.

  No matter. He wasn’t there to make friends with Emma Cross. He smoothed his shirt as another man stepped onto the elevator. The instant lip curl and shuffle to the far side of the elevator couldn’t have expressed his contempt any better. Emma was persona non grata at more than just her former employer, it appeared.

  Did everyone in the building know about her status? Hmm. That might complicate things. John pressed his lips together. Time for additional surveillance was quickly running out.

  The elevator door opened and he brushed past Emma and the other passenger to step out onto the third floor. Per his research, the building housed three different businesses: a broker on floors one and two, Fielding Labs on four and five, and a personal injury attorney on floor three. He smiled at the receptionist.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Yes, I believe I have an appointment.” The elevator doors slid shut behind him and John relaxed.

  The receptionist glanced at her desk. “Mr. Foster is in depositions all day today, are you sure your appointment is for this morning?”

  “I put the appointment in my—” John pretended to investigate his phone. “Would you look at that. I’ve got my days mixed up.” He smiled again. “My apologies.”

  The phone began to ring before the receptionist could respond. “Foster Personal Injury, how may I help you?”

  Shouting carried across the line and the receptionist covered the mouthpiece with her hand. “I’m sorry, is there anything else?”

  John shook his head. “Thanks for your time.”

  She smiled before releasing her hand over the phone. “Sir, I’m sorry, I’m having trouble understanding you.”

  John headed toward the stairwell as the receptionist focused on the angry caller. Something she probably had great experience with in a lawyer’s office. Check that off on the list of jobs John never wanted. Not that many people would want his, but it suited him.

  Impersonal. Anonymous. Lethal.

  In other words, damn near perfect. He slipped into the stairwell and eased the door shut behind him as his phone buzzed in his pocket. He checked the message.

  Confirm ETA. Time is of the essence.

  John typed a quick response. No later than 22:00 hours.

  After pocketing the phone, he headed downstairs at an efficient clip, strode through the building lobby, and crossed the street. As he approached the boarded-up front entrance of the first building, he slowed. Directly across from Fielding Labs and Emma Cross, the once shabby office was undergoing a massive renovation.r />
  He pulled a ball cap from his bag with an official-looking logo embroidered on the front and clipped a badge to his sweater before skirting around the side to the construction entrance. A skeleton crew congregated in what used to be the lobby, eating fast food breakfast and carrying on. Judging from the paint on their coveralls and the cans littering the floor, he wouldn’t have any trouble.

  He strode up like he owned the place and held up his badge. “Electrical inspector. Check for code compliance.”

  Without a single question, the team waved him on, practically turning their backs as they continued their conversation. If he’d learned anything over the years of doing this job, no one wanted to go out on a limb for someone else anymore. A group of painters weren’t about to help a city inspector find fault in the electrical and slow down their job. Not a chance.

  After locating the stairs, John headed up, climbing until he reached the fifth floor. He eased the door open. Empty. With no one but a small paint crew down in the lobby, he had an entire unfinished floor to himself. Perfect surveillance setup. He pulled a high-powered pair of binoculars from his bag and eased to the floor.

  It didn’t take long to locate Emma. With her red hair and lanky physique, she stood out among the other lab techs. He watched her tie back her hair and tug on goggles and gloves. She talked to no one, opting to bypass the small morning conversations and head straight to work. Confirms my analysis. No one likes a snitch.