Edge of Fear: An EMP Post-Apocalyptic Survival Prepper Series (American Fallout Book 3) Alex Gunwick (free reads .txt) 📖

“Cool.”

He leafed through the guide. It contained several diagrams depicting a variety of methods for opening locks. He considered using the set on one of the gun lockers but thought better of it. It would probably be more trouble than it was worth. If he asked nicely, his dad would be happy to show him how to use one of the pistols. But if his dad caught him messing around with one on his own, Kyle would never hear the end of it. His dad would probably take away his rifle as punishment. His parents didn’t mess around when it came to gun safety. He’d had to endure several very long speeches about it before they let him shoot his first target with his .22.

Kyle decided to try the suspicious, solitary door at the end of one of the hallways first, figuring something interesting must be behind it. He zipped up the lockpick set and pocketed the paper guide before heading back down the hall.

He made his way across the central room toward the hall. He caught his mom’s voice echoing from the food storage room where she and the others were taking stock of their supplies. He stopped and frowned.

“Yeah, great,” he grumbled to himself. “Go on counting cans of beans while those bastards are still out there.”

He shook his head as he walked down the hall leading to the locked door.

When he reached the large, metal door, he spread the case open on the floor. He examined the locks on the door. There were two, one on the knob and one deadbolt above it. He flipped the guide to the section on deadbolts and spread it out on the floor next to his set.

He inserted the tension wrench into the bottom of the lock, twisting it counterclockwise as the pamphlet instructed. He looked down at the instructions, then inserted the pick into the top of the lock, feeling for the pins that he was supposed to push up and out of the barrel.

As his pick touched the first pin, he heard a click. Excitement rushed through him as he jimmied the pick around inside the lock. The pin moved in response. He managed to work the pin up, and his heart leaped as it gave way. But in his eagerness, he forgot to maintain tension on his wrench. The first pin slipped back down as he nudged the pick deeper into the lock.

“Shoot.” He blew out a long breath while shaking out his hands. He cracked his knuckles before slipping the tension wrench and the pick back into the lock.

He worked the first pin up again, this time keeping the tension on the wrench and holding it in place as he moved on to the next pin. He levered the next pin up with his pick, again keeping it in place by maintaining tension on the wrench with his left hand as he slid the pick farther into the lock to work on the next pin. He worked the third pin with his pick, but this one provided significantly more resistance than the first two. His tongue worked against his lips as he concentrated intensely on wiggling the pin into position. It started to give way, sliding up and out of the barrel, just as a voice sounded from behind him.

“What are you doing?” His mother’s voice surprised him.

He flinched and lost the tension on the wrench, allowing all of the pins to fall back into place.

“Ah, dang it, Mom. I was picking this lock. I almost had it.” He threw his head back in frustration, growling at the ceiling.

“Picking locks? You’re not considering a life of crime, are you, honey?” His mom frowned.

“No. I just thought I’d try to see if I could open one of these locked doors since apparently I’m not allowed to do anything useful,” Kyle said.

“What do you mean? If you want to help us inventory the food supplies, then we’d be happy to have you with us. I thought it would be too boring for you.” She gave him a perplexed look.

“No, I don’t want to inventory the stupid food, Mom. I mean, like taking out the cult members. Why are we in here while they’re still out there? They need to pay for what they did to Sierra.” He looked away, scowling, not wanting her to see the grief in his eyes.

“Oh, baby.”

“I’m not a baby. I can handle myself.” He glared at her with narrowed eyes.

“I know, honey. I know. That’s what I came to talk to you about. Are you doing okay? I know it’s hard, losing Sierra. It’s hard for me, too.”

“I’m fine, Mom.”

“Are you, though? You killed a man. You may not realize it yet, but that kind of thing takes a toll on you. Just ask your father. You don’t know how many times we’ve stayed up late talking about the things he did while on duty. Your dad and I wanted to protect you from that kind of stuff. But now, it doesn’t seem like we have a choice. Violence is the way of the world now. It’s a damn shame.” She shook her head.

“It’s not a big deal. I’m fine. They’re bad guys. They’ve done bad stuff, and they have to be stopped. Seems simple enough to me.”

“Killing someone is a big deal. I don’t think you understand what it can do to you yet. The guilt it can bring.” She looked at him sadly. She reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off.

“I do understand, Mom. What I don’t understand is why I’m the only one who isn’t afraid to do something about it.” His voice grew louder until he was shouting. “Everyone else is worried about supplies while the people who killed Sierra are still out there.”

“I know you want revenge, but we need to talk about this.”

“No. Enough talking. I’m tired of talking. Just leave