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

“Now, Kyle. Just because we live in a bunker now doesn’t mean the rules don’t apply anymore.”

“Ugh.” He groaned, tossing his head back in frustration before calling back to his mom. “Fine, I’m coming.”

He set down his tools. He left the pick that worked well for the doorknob lock separate from the others so he would remember which one to use when he came back.

He scowled at the door before starting down the hallway. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back for you. And you’re going to open for me.”

Derek dug into the M-2 unit food ration. The canned meat chunks with beans in tomato sauce wasn’t the best thing he’d ever eaten, but it beat starving. Halfway through eating, he set the can aside. He used a P-38 can opener to get into a B1 unit. He pulled out crackers, two chocolate disks, and peanut butter spread. He grunted. Again, it was better than nothing.

“Man, this brings back memories,” Edwin said.

“You do a tour in ‘Nam?” Derek asked.

“One. Only one. Thank God. I ate plenty of these. Did you find any D units in the crate?” Edwin asked.

“What’s in a D unit?” Sandy asked.

“Dessert.” Edwin grinned. “Sometimes it’s peaches, pears, apricots, or fruit cocktail. Sometimes it’s cake or bread.”

“I’ll go see if I can find some,” Liz said. She returned a few minutes later with a few more cans in her hands. “Found these.”

“Let’s pop one open,” Edwin said enthusiastically.

The corner of Derek’s mouth twitched into a slight smile. At least the old man was having fun with this stuff. They’d checked the cans earlier and had thrown out any that were bloated or rusted. Because they’d been stored in a cool, dry place, the rations were still as good as the day they were packed, except for the crackers. They were a bit stale.

While Edwin launched into a story about Vietnam, Derek’s mind drifted. Why hadn’t we struck back at Russia? Could they trust the news coming over the radio? There could be all kinds of misinformation and propaganda coming through if their enemies had taken over the airwaves. It bothered him enough to make him wonder if they should even listen to the reports. But he guessed it was better than no information. He’d try some more channels later and see if he could find out anything else.

Across the room, Kyle sat on a crate. He held up a cracker to the light and glared at it. “Nasty.”

Derek chuckled. The kid had better get used to it. There wouldn’t be any more hamburgers for a while. Maybe years. Maybe never.

Liz walked over to Derek and spoke quietly in his ear. “Hey, Luke’s been gone a while. Do you think he’s okay?”

Derek checked his watch and thought for a moment. “You’re right. He should’ve been back by now. He said he was just going to grab a couple of things from the cabin. I’m sure he’s fine, though. He can handle himself.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just, I don’t like the idea of him out there all alone.” She tried to keep her voice steady, but she was clearly concerned.

Derek felt for her. She’d been through a lot the past few days.

“You’re right. I’ll go check on him and make sure everything’s all right. He might need some help carrying everything back. I tried to go with him before, but he wanted me to stay with you guys. He didn’t want to leave you alone.”

“I’m sure he’s fine. I’m just worried. I don’t know if I could take losing anyone else,” she said softly.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I’m happy to go.”

Her jaw relaxed, but she still looked worried. Derek didn’t blame her. Although he’d tried to project calm, Luke had been gone way too long. He could be in all kinds of trouble right now.

After grabbing his pack and rifle, he headed into the forest. He moved quickly but cautiously. He couldn’t risk running into the cult. If something had happened to Luke, Derek would be the only one left to defend the rest of the group.

He approached the cabin from the north, stepping quietly through the forest. He kept his head on a swivel, looking for danger.

As he neared the clearing where the cabin was located, he dropped to a crouch. His finger rested against the trigger guard of his rifle. He stopped, listening while watching intently for movement. It was quiet. Nothing caught his attention. He seemed to be all alone out in the snowy woods. But instinct told him that something was off. He couldn’t pinpoint the source of the feeling. Nevertheless, he sensed trouble.

He crawled forward on his stomach, holding his rifle in front of him. When he reached the tree line, he peered around the clearing. He spotted one man crouched behind the shed. He scanned the tree line through the scope of his rifle and made out two figures crouched across the clearing to his left. He found another man crouched in the trees across the clearing to his right. Derek had the man’s center of mass in his crosshairs.

A shot echoed across the mountain. The man’s right side exploded in a spurt of blood. Derek was dumbstruck for a moment. He looked down at his finger, which still rested innocently against the trigger guard. He was trying to figure out how in the hell his gun had gone off without him touching the trigger. He looked up in time to see two men busting through the cabin’s rear window.

Movement from the shed drew his attention away from them. The man who’d been crouched there was rushing toward the cabin’s front door, wielding a large knife.

Derek peered down his scope, tracing the man’s path with practiced patience. His finger hovered gently over the trigger. When his crosshairs came to rest on the top of the man’s back, Derek squeezed off a shot. The man fell face-first