White Wasteland Jeff Kirkham (book series for 12 year olds TXT) 📖

To enter that garden himself, Evan would first risk the angry sea.

He stood from his cot and walked across the circle of trucks to the family he wanted. The family he hoped to earn.

“Hey guys. Is everyone good?” Evan asked as he ran his hand over Berkley’s brown, shiny hair.

“Yeah. Sure. We’re great,” Tanya looked up at him, her eyes betraying curiosity.

Evan sat down on the edge of the cot.

“So, your husband…You said his name was Caleb, right?”

She nodded. An eyebrow lifted.

Evan climbed aboard the raft and set sail into the swell, “Is that what everyone calls him? Caleb?”

Tanya’s eyes narrowed. “No. Not really. He liked people to call him Kay.”

Evan nodded, but his stomach cartwheeled.

“All right, well…then I should tell you something. Maybe alone.”

“Go play with Uncle Tommy for a minute,” Tanya shooed the little girl toward the big man working a Coleman in the center of the camp.

When the girl was out of earshot, Tanya drilled down, “Did you find out what happened to Kay?”

“Well, yes,” Evan kneaded his hands. “I met him.”

“He’s alive!” She stood up. Then she sat back down. “Where the hell has he been?”

“He was the boss of Zombietown, I’m pretty sure. Is he a guy who wears a gold chain, hairy chest, maybe likes to unbutton his shirt down to here…or so?” Evan pointed in between his pecs.

A black cloud churned where her beautiful, brown face had been a moment before. “Yes. What the ever living fuck has he been doing? Spit it out, Evan. Don’t play games with me.”

“Caleb set himself up as a warlord. He had tons of stuff inside that strip club building. And he had girls.”

She shot to her feet again. “Asshole!”

Evan couldn’t tell if she meant Kay or him.

She stomped and fumed. “I already knew…things. The porn. The strip clubs. I’m not stupid, you know.” She spoke mostly to herself while Evan watched. “But how could he leave us on our own during this?”

“Well, in fairness,” he stammered, relief building in his gut. “In fairness to…him…I think he had people watching out for you. You know, those guys? The ones I shot at when she—Berkely—went to get water. I think they were keeping an eye out for him. For Caleb.”

Tanya dropped back to the cot and held her face in her hands. “Where is he?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know until just now who he was…I got rid of him.”

“You killed my husband?” She shot daggers at him from her eyes.

“No. No, I didn’t kill him. I almost did, but I didn’t. I restrained him and put him…somewhere, so he wouldn’t come back to Zombietown, er, the titty bar…I let him go on the west side and told him we’d shoot him if he ever came back.” Evan waited on her emotions, a kaleidoscope of expressions marched across her face to some, unfathomable end.

“Idiots.” Evan still didn’t know if she meant him. “What’s wrong with sitting down like adults and having a conversation? Why is it always fireworks and violence with you fools?”

Evan still had no idea where this was going. He let her vent.

“Why does everything have to be a high-noon penis measuring contest? What’s the point of that? Big swinging dicks with their sluts and their insatiable egos…I have TWO BABIES. Why can’t I be the one living like a rockstar. I’ll tell you why: I’ve been tending babies, scared out of my damn mind while he…you…do…whatever the hell you idiots do!”

The angry seas had indeed swallowed Evan’s raft. The garden had disappeared on the storm-purple horizon.

She walked in a little circle. “He’s my kids’ father. He needs to take care of his responsibilities. Him. Not me. Him. And you ran him off? With your little tank and your toy soldiers, you ran him off as though your darling sense of territorial dominance was all that mattered?”

Evan tried to grasp at the straws, but the straws were coming very fast.

“I, um, didn’t know, at all, that he was Berkely’s father. I just now put that together—that he might’ve been your ex…”

“There is no EX. He is my husband, that piece of shit…Look. I’m not doing my best thinking right now and you’ve been really good to us. I should just shut up. Evan. I need some space. Maybe a lot of space.”

Evan jumped to his feet. He wanted to say something else, but he’d lost the thread of the conversation and didn’t know where to start untangling it.

“Er…” he said. She shot him a burning glare, then tempered it.

Evan turned and slogged back to his cot.

Barkley’s Sand & Gravel Pit

North Frontage Road and Veteran’s Memorial Parkway

Chad didn’t mind that the world had shut down for the flu. Like a wandering mountain lion, he could go a long time without consort. Nobody had come to check in on him at the southern army camp in almost two weeks. Chad didn’t take it personally; nobody had done anything in two weeks. The encampment was practically deserted.

Given all the piss-and-vinegar about “Helaman’s Army” and eradicating the evildoers in Salt Lake City, Chad would’ve thought the religious fanatics would stand stronger against a flu. With the first sign of a little plague, the entire army vanished to their sick beds, most running home to the care of their families.

Chad didn’t have a good fix on what percentage of the army had fallen ill. He felt fine. He even considered finding someone with the flu and infecting himself just to add “immunity” to his list of abilities.

“— kicked ass on the gamboo, solo, without a single bowl of chicken noodle soup.”

Chad didn’t mind the downtime. These fanatics weren't going to give him free rein unless he did the deal and joined their Kool-Aid Caravan.

After flipping through the Book of Mormon, Chad kinda dug where they were heading with this whole fanatical faith thing. Hard core, in-or-out extremism got his blood pumping. His kind of God asked for hard things and delivered on big promises. The idea had a