Trapped Above the Blackout

I’ll admit, I rolled my eyes at first—*another* EMP thriller? But *Trapped Above the Blackout* disarmed me by refusing to play by the genre’s usual rules. Cheryl May’s performance is the secret weapon here. She doesn’t *act* so much as *inhabit*, especially as Lisa, the biologist whose dry, analytical tone cracks like ice underfoot when panic sets in. Her delivery of Regan, the teenage daughter, is particularly sharp; she nails that mix of adolescent snark and vulnerability that makes you forget you’re listening to a 40-something narrator. The real test? When the power grid dies in the first 20 minutes, May’s voice drops into a register so quiet you’ll find yourself leaning in—just like the characters straining to hear threats in the dark. The story’s pacing is a masterclass in slow-burn dread. Woods spends half the runtime forcing you to *live* with these women: foraging for berries, debating whether to risk a fire, parsing the subtext of every shared glance. It’s maddening in the best way, like watching a pot boil when you’re starving. My only gripe? The mid-section sags slightly under repetitive survival logistics (yes, we *get* it, boiling water is hard without a stove), and the villain reveal in Act 3 feels a tad too telegraphed for a story this subtle. But the finale—oh, the finale—lands like a gut punch, trading explosions for a quiet, devastating choice that’ll haunt your next hike. If you love audiobooks that turn your commute into a white-knuckle exercise in paranoia, this is your next download. Just maybe don’t listen while alone in the woods.