EMP Catastrophe | Book 1 | Erupting Trouble Hamilton, Grace (read book .txt) 📖

showed how far gone he was—losing his fear to the confidence booze could give. He didn’t even know when he was in danger; his survival skills had been dulled by the drink.

“You heard her,” Matthew said. “Get out of here.”

“This is my land,” Samuel spluttered, wiping at the stain on his coveralls. He’d dropped the glass when Matthew shot at him, and spilled alcohol stained his chest. “This is my hotel.”

“If you don’t leave I’ll take another shot,” Matthew warned, and flicked the gun up and down to catch Samuel’s attention. Keep it focused on him and away from his mother.

“Like you could hit anything,” Samuel sneered, but his cheeks flushed red with anger. “This place is my inheritance. My daddy promised it to me and then you people moved in, thinking you could steal it from me.”

“Just because the power is out doesn’t mean you get to steal our property,” Matthew said, feeling his own anger heat up inside his belly. He really wanted to take Samuel out, but he knew he had to try to convince the leech to leave.

“You’re a cheat!” Samuel screamed. His eyes seemed to pop out of their sockets. Spittle flew from his mouth. Somehow, Matthew had crossed a line. “I dreamed of owning this place. And you stole it from me. You stole my inheritance from me. I’m not gonna let you take it away from me again.” He took a steady step towards Matthew, looking like a bull about to charge.

Matthew saw his life flash before his eyes. His blood roared in his ears. Even if he could shoot Samuel to save himself, he’d still be committing murder. But what if he missed? He might hurt his mother. Could he take that chance?

Ruth cocked her elbow back, holding the gun like a baseball bat. With a shriek, she slammed the double-barrel against Samuel’s skull with a sickening crunch. Samuel swayed. Ruth pulled back and widened her stance, looking like a batter up to the plate, and swung a second time. The gun collided with Samuel’s head. Blood sprayed up, coating the gun and Samuel’s temples. Samuel dropped like a stone.

Ruth let out another shriek, as if to hit him again. Matthew held up his hand. “Mom, it’s okay. You can put down the gun. He’s out.”

Ruth slumped, as if all the strength had gone out of her. Matthew put the .45 on one of the coffee tables and tentatively walked towards his mother, his arms held out. She uttered a quiet sob and dropped the gun, running towards Matthew. He enveloped her in his arms, holding her tight.

“Oh god,” she whispered. “What a horrible man. What a terrible human being.” Her shoulders shook and Matthew rubbed her back.

“I’m here now, Mom. I’m sorry you had to deal with that all on your own.” Matthew shut his eyes tight for a moment, wondering what she’d gone through, and how long Samuel had been terrorizing her. “Where’s Patton? Is he okay?”

“I managed to get him to stay in the kitchen when Samuel wanted to make redecorating notes. I told him not to come into the lobby, even if he heard something. I’m so happy to see you,” Ruth said, clinging to him. “I wondered…I’m just glad you got here in time. Where’s your father?”

“Outside or looking for Patton. Although he was supposed to come running if he heard gunshots.”

Ruth pulled back with a surprised sigh, wiping at her eyes. “He never was as good with orders as he thinks.” She turned to look at Samuel’s still form. “I guess we should see if he’s still alive.”

Matthew gave her one final squeeze before letting go. He was desperate to see his son, but he also didn’t want Patton to see Samuel in this state. He knelt next to Samuel and put two fingers against his throat. The pulse was strong, despite the puddle of blood that seeped from the bruised gash on the side of his head. He looked up at Ruth. “Still alive and kicking.”

“We better get him outside and out of our hotel,” Ruth said with a frown. “He’s not welcome, but I don’t know when he’s going to come around again. I only want to kick him out once.”

“You got it.” Matthew stood and went to the front door, opening it up. A breeze of fresh air wafted through, ushering out the awful scent of booze and Samuel’s own particular brand. Matthew noticed the frame had been shattered as if kicked in and he frowned, wondering if this was how Samuel had gotten into the hotel in the first place. With the door open wide, he knelt to pick up Samuel’s legs. Ruth stood at his head, and reached down to grab his arms. Together, they managed to heft Samuel up and half-carried, half-dragged him out the front door. Matthew grunted under the weight—the man was compact and heavy.

“Like taking out the trash,” Ruth said and Matthew snorted a laugh, grateful to be home and grateful to have saved his family.

33

Together, Matthew and Ruth staggered out of the hotel with Samuel’s limp body swinging between them. Matthew’s arms ached with the weight, and he wasn’t surprised when his mother had to pause for a rest once they made it through the doorway and out into the sunshine. As she rubbed her arms with a grimace, Matthew gripped Samuel by the legs and dragged the man over to the concrete lane leading up to the hotel. Pausing to catch his breath, he then continued to drag Samuel to a patch of grass and dirt. He dropped Samuel and stood up, stretching his arms upwards until his back popped. Sweat beaded on his brow, and he wiped it away, taking a moment to consider his next move.

Samuel groaned and began to thrash like a fish who’d realized it had just been caught. Dust clogged the gash on his head, but Matthew didn’t feel the least bit sympathetic. Ruth came up beside him and