Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 150878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 754(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 150878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 754(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
The owners of these homes were all retirees, mostly senior citizens who took us under their wings and doted on us in any way they were able. They’d also gathered a wonderful group of employees who were now so much more than that, many of their own families sharing space with the homeowners.
Before the solar flare hit, this community was stunning and luxurious, but now? Now it was an actual paradise sitting high on a hill, a gate at the front and unscalable cliffs surrounding it. I couldn’t help thinking of it as one of those medieval castles overlooking villages where those not as fortunate suffered and starved. And so, while I was deeply grateful to be safe and fed, I could not stop thinking of those who were not. The visions were agonizing because I knew the pain and terror I was picturing was actually playing out everywhere across the nation.
In five days, Tuck had not shown up with my parents. Which I prayed meant they were doing fine, and Tuck was taking a short breather—one he deserved. If something was wrong, he’d have come to tell me. He’d never withhold news like that or risk me returning someday to find that they’d been gone since the beginning. And if my parents needed this sanctuary, they would have been here by now. I didn’t let my mind wander further than that. I couldn’t. I could only picture them there, on their property, surviving and rebuilding with the resources they had. Thank God you didn’t move. Thank God you held on to what you had. The things the whole country was fighting for right now—animals, crops, land, and the know-how to tend it.
And the vision I conjured of my parents on their land brought me peace, but it also made my guts churn with longing. I was here, wandering through the gardens of others when I should be laboring on my family farm. It felt…wrong.
And I missed Tuck desperately. I felt hollow inside, like a vital organ was missing and I was just barely alive. Which, in the midst of paradise, felt deeply ungrateful. And yet, the feeling remained. My heart was twisted with too many emotions to manage. I stood on the cliff just past the house at the top of the hill and stared across the water, trying to picture Tuck. Was he still there in the San Fernando Valley? Or had he already left for Kansas? Surely he’d need at least a week to recover and gather what supplies he could before taking off again? Or, knowing Tuck, he’d be offering any help necessary to my parents and their community before he left.
I returned to Merrick Winchester’s home and went in the side door, avoiding the front room where I could hear voices and some soft laughter. Layne had moved into the house next door where Freddie had a room, but they were here now, visiting with Merrick. But I didn’t have any desire to socialize, I felt far too bereft. All I really wanted to do was sleep and shut off the deep loneliness and pain.
* * *
My eyes flew open, and I blinked groggily up at the ceiling, a sliver of moonlight offering the barest bit of light. Something had woken me—a distant crack. It’d sounded like gunfire.
There it is again.
My stomach tightened and I threw the blankets back and got out of bed. I knew that sound all too well. I’d heard it more times than I cared to remember in recent weeks.
My window faced the back of the house, my view mostly restricted by tall trees. And beyond that was the edge of a cliff that dropped down to the ocean. The gunfire—if that’s what it was—had seemed to come from somewhere down the hill. I’d need to look out a front window to see the street outside.
I slipped out of my room, using the moonlight coming in the tall windows to make my way down the hallway. I didn’t hear anyone else stirring from behind the other bedroom doors. If they’d heard the noise too, they were unconcerned.
It was probably coming from beyond the gate, echoing in the stillness of the night. Or maybe from the ocean far below.
I was paranoid. But then again, I had very good reason to be. We all did.
I padded down the stairs, my footsteps silent on the plush runner and when I got to the bottom, I heard tense voices from the living room.
I started to go in that direction, to see if someone else had heard what I did, when Merrick’s voice grew louder momentarily, clearly distressed. I paused, suddenly on guard and moving more slowly now.
“Put the gun away, Leon. This is wrong.”
My heart thumped with confusion and fear. I plastered my body against the wall. I could barely see into the large room with vaulted ceilings. Merrick was standing near the window and Leon was in front of him, a gun in his hand. What is happening?