World on Edge: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller (World on Edge Book 1) Chris Pike (drm ebook reader .txt) 📖

to the counter at the restaurant, and getting an idea for padding, he told her to sit while he prepared a bed for her. He took the two rubber mats he found behind the counter then placed them on the floor. Next, he found a tablecloth he used as a sheet so Lexi wouldn’t have to come in contact with the dirty rubber mats.

“Voila! Your bed, Madam Cartier.” Joe used his best French accent, bowed, and gestured for Lexi to try out the makeshift bed.

She giggled. “I’m impressed.” Using the bar to lean on, she hopped over to the bed.

Joe took her by the elbow and helped her to the floor. “What’dya think?”

Using her hands, she tested the feel of the platform. “It’ll be fine.”

Joe rolled one of the jackets into a ball then tied it off using the sleeves. He gave it to Lexi to use as a pillow, then draped a coat over her like a blanket.

“Snug as a bug in a rug.”

Lexi giggled again. “I don’t remember the last time I giggled so much.”

“Good. Anytime I can make a lady happy, then I’m happy.” Joe couldn’t help smiling either. “Try to get some rest. I’ll be close by scouting for anything useful.”

Chapter 12

Hours passed and Lexi slept soundly. Joe stayed nearby, sleeping on and off, keeping one ear open for unusual noises until fatigue crept in. He fell into a deep sleep, his dreams vivid, and sometimes violent, a result of his military service. During the day, he kept busy so his mind was always occupied solving a problem requiring using both hemispheres of his brain. It kept his demons at bay, but at night, he succumbed to his subconscious. At times he mumbled in his sleep, other times he tossed and turned until the bed linens were a jumbled mess of twisted sheets and covers.

Lexi had different dreams, those of anxiously waiting her turn to walk onto stage. She had a recurring dream where she would walk on stage, open her mouth to sing, yet she was unable to utter a sound. Regardless how much she tried, she couldn’t sing. She’d often wake up in a cold sweat, her head pounding. She wondered if other performers had similar dreams.

The night was dark with cloud cover obscuring any light from the stars or the moon. The survivors had hunkered down for the night, with only the occasional scream or sounds of falling concrete, otherwise it was uncannily quiet. The fire caused by the jet fuel had burned itself out, and most of the smoke had cleared. The smell lingered on porous objects such as clothing and hair.

Lexi’s hair was a mess, and before she went to bed, she untangled it the best she could using her fingers. She had been sleeping for several hours on her side when she suddenly wakened.

Something didn’t feel right.

She willed herself to stay perfectly still to listen.

She opened her eyes a slit and waited for her sight to acclimate to the darkness.

Facing away from Joe, she had a view of the cabinet under the bar, filled with various items of mixes, tumblers, towels, boxes, and what appeared to be someone’s sack lunch.

Perhaps she had been dreaming, or maybe not.

She felt a presence next to her and hot warm breath on her neck.

Her heart pounded.

All sorts of thoughts raced through her mind.

Wake up, Joe!

Nothing except for soft snoring.

Something brushed against Lexi and she shot up, bumping Joe in the process.

Joe’s eyes snapped open and he shot up too, reaching for the metal pole he had found to use for protection.

Lexi cried out in pain when she put her weight on her ankle. Stumbling, she leaned against the bar. Running was impossible.

Movement in the shadows caught Joe’s eyes. “Someone is on the other side of the bar,” he whispered. “Keep your head down.”

Lexi crouched, making herself as small as possible.

Joe dropped to his hands and knees and crawled to the edge of the bar. He slowly peeked around the corner, expecting to find whoever had scared the beejesus out of he and Lexi. Instead, he was greeted by a large dog, sitting on his haunches, tongue hanging out, panting heavily.

“Lexi, everything is okay.” Joe let out a big sigh. “It’s only a dog.”

“A dog? Here?”

“Yeah,” Joe said. He clicked on a flashlight. “It appears to be a service dog.”

“For a disabled person?” Lexi asked.

“No. Probably a police dog by the looks of the vest.”

The dog cocked its head and whimpered.

“Do we have anything the dog can eat?” Joe asked.

“Yes, give me a moment.” Lexi unwrapped the paper sack she had found earlier in the shelves beneath the bar. She opened a sandwich bag, sniffed the contents, and surmising it was okay to eat, she gave half of it to Joe.

“Come here, boy,” Joe said. Holding the sandwich, he held out his hand for the dog to sniff. “Good boy, come on, you can take a bite.” Joe spoke in a gentle, comforting voice.

The dog inched forward, unable to resist the tempting aroma of the ham sandwich. He tentatively reached his snout towards Joe’s hand, sniffing the air. Joe leaned into the dog, holding the sandwich. After a few unsure moments, the dog gently nibbled part of the sandwich away from Joe’s grasp. The dog then gulped the bite down.

“Come on, you can have it all.”

Lexi stayed a safe distance. The dog was huge, and while she wasn’t scared of dogs, this one had the appearance of a military dog.

The dog took another bite, nibbling it away from Joe who purposely held the sandwich. It was a way for the dog to take in Joe’s aura, to decipher if Joe was good or bad. Deciding Joe was one of the good