Apocalipstick (Hell in a Handbag Book 1) Lisa Acerbo (debian ebook reader .TXT) 📖

her heart-shaped face and ample cleavage. She somehow managed to look feminine and Disney princess pretty in the middle of the apocalypse.

Why is she the only one who didn’t give a rat’s ass about appearance at a time like this? Or is she jealous?

Had she turned on the emotions she’d buried and believed they’d never surface?

Caleb and Aiko were making short work of their project, deconstructing the camp stove and communal area. As if he had a premonition she was back, Caleb turned, a smile flickering across his lips before Aiko asked a question, diverting his attention.

She closed the gap between them. “Need any help?” Exhaustion trickled from every pore, but she was nothing if not a team player.

“No. You’d better work on organizing your own stuff.” Aiko’s words dismissed her.

Leaving them, she followed the smell of venison stewing. The growl her stomach released was louder than a Streaker.

When had she last eaten? She couldn’t remember the last real meal, inedible morning mush not counting. Deer meat was a favorite and a staple these days.

She scarfed a bowl of grub, reminding herself where it came from. The New Race were experts at hunting and killing big game. With improved vision, they were adapted for the chase.

As if sensing her fatigue, Caleb appeared at her side with a cup of instant coffee, one of the few luxuries sometimes available. She inhaled the bitter scent. Her stomach growled in response.

“I thought you could use it before I put everything away.”

“Thanks.” The words stuck to dry lips.

He was considerate, not only to her but to everyone, but she needed to keep her distance. The scars on her stomach itched, confirming her decision was correct. She avoided investing emotionally in any of her companions.

This week was a miserable fail.

She chugged the bitter brew before moving to her sleeping area, where the goal was to pack her meager belongings for the next part of the journey through Maryland. Along with a bedroll, her life easily stuffed itself into a couple of canvas backpacks. Other than the clothes on her back, Jenna kept little. Her journal, though she refused to write in it these days and a shoebox containing the memories of Mom and Dad, were the only non-essentials.

She’d cram the remainder of the space with changes in clothing and shoes, mostly rugged T-shirts, sweaters, sweatshirts, and jeans though. Jenna made room for a few nicer items for celebrations. The group tried hard to recognize birthdays and commemorate the passing of time with special meals. Sometimes these festivities worked better than others, but Emma had taken on the chore of counting the days and remembering everyone’s birthday.

Caleb left her side and she believed he’d glide back to Aiko, but instead grabbed a dilapidated chair and brought it close. He made himself at ease, stretching his legs into the gloom.

“It’s going to be dark in a couple hours, and the group wants to make the most of the night for travel. We’re heading out ASAP. Do you need me to do anything for you?”

“Help me? Absolutely not. All my stuff will be packed in five.”

“Ready for some nighttime travels?”

“Night or day, what does it matter?”

“With the New Race driving, we haven’t lost a member to a Streaker attack for close to a year.”

“I’m not sure driving ability correlated.”

“Will you sleep?”

“I’d rather volunteer for the watch. Even the scavenging parties are better than sleeping.”

Better rethink that one after today’s adventure, but sleep means nightmares. The creatures, real or imagined, are always lurking one step away.

“Are you sure about not needing the help?” He didn’t move from the chair. “I’m ready, willing, and able to be at your service.”

“I’m good.” But in truth, the earlier conversation with Emma ran rabid around her mind. Images of the Streakers from the store would haunt her for many nights. Her past must somehow connect with the present, and Caleb, being of the New Race, had insight.

Would understanding the past help her survive, or if not survive, find some semblance of peace. Caleb must know more than she did about the New Race.

“Last chance.” Chorded muscles popped from his arms. He pushed from the seat.

Without realizing she was going to speak, she said. “Can you answer a question? I’m missing a piece of the puzzle. What do you remember about the start of the New Race?” She jammed her clothes into a beat-up duffle bag, trying to hide shaking hands. The information was important to her, even if she couldn’t figure out why.

Fingers threaded through his thick hair. “All I know is instead of dying some survivors like me, mutated into the New Race. The scientists couldn’t figure us out. Called us vampires, monsters, others. Those were some of the names given to the people who survived the disease and changed but not into Streakers. I’m not a monster.”

“You’re not.”

“More of a modified human.” Vivid red eyes radiated sadness. “There are things I like about the new me, but other things I can’t stand. It’s who I am, and I can’t change it. Just like I can’t alter the aftermath when the disease hit.”

“Why’d the pandemic happen?” The question persisted, though no one had an answer.

“You have to focus on the future. We can’t change the past.”

“I need information. It’s like a puzzle I have to solve.”

“I don’t have the answers.”

“Did you get that novel vaccine they were trying to sell everyone at the end?”

“Yes. Did you?”

“No. My parents were dead by the time it was released. I wasn’t in the mood to comply with the authorities.”

“When the government realized there was a link between the vaccine and the New Race, they started rounding up people like me who were changing. I hid, but the military came in. He shrugged. “I guess I was easy to find. They put us in camps to see if we’d turn into Streakers.” Caleb bowed his head. “Conditions were horrible. We were all crammed in cells, no clothes other than what we wore in. Maybe two beds