Edge of Valor: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller(100)

Milo shoved the slingshot and ammo in his overalls pocket and opened Quinn’s second gift. Inside a simple wooden frame was an exquisitely rendered charcoal drawing of Milo’s father.

Awestruck, Milo held it reverently in both hands, staring at the image of his father like he could drink it up.

Quinn had captured Noah at his best—the tousled dirty-blond hair and chiseled jaw, his eyes twinkling in anticipation as he grinned, believing the world was as good and perfect as he wanted it to be.

Without a word, Milo dashed toward their house to put it in his room, tucked amongst his most valued possessions.

Oreo let out a loud bleat and scampered after him. She was starting to think she was a human child.

“He says thank you.” Hannah rolled her eyes. “Manners. You’d think he’d been raised by wolves.”

“I, um, made this for you, too.” Quinn held out the last gift with a sheepish expression. Two red spots of embarrassment appeared on her cheeks, but she was beaming.

A second drawing. This one an accurate rendering of Charlotte Rose as a newborn—her rosebud lips, apple cheeks, downy skin, and seashell ears.

Quinn had begun the sketch days after Hannah had returned to Fall Creek, when Charlotte was a few weeks old. Already, she’d grown so much.

They’d had nothing by which to remember those early days.

Now, they did.

Emotion swelled in Hannah’s chest. “This is—it’s beautiful, Quinn.”

Quinn blushed.

“You have a gift, Quinn,” Hannah said. “Truly. We need things like this as much as we need bullets and Band-Aids.”

Quinn dug her boot in the grass, suddenly bashful. “Gran said something like that. No one needs charcoal and paper to survive.”

“You’d be surprised,” Liam said.

“I imagine people would trade for drawings of their loved ones,” Hannah said. “Most of us don’t have photos anymore, only memories. And memories fade.”

A shadow flitted behind Liam’s eyes, a reminder of everything he’d lost. “I’ll be your first customer.”

“Deal. But I charge difficult customers extra.” Quinn shot him a devilish grin. “That makes you double the price.”

Liam gave a pained smile. “You strike a hard bargain.”

She grinned back. “It’s the apocalypse. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”





78





Hannah





Day One Hundred and Thirty-One





Hannah watched Milo return to Molly’s yard. He dashed across the porch, leaping over the Great Pyr’s snoring form and disrupting Loki’s nap on Ghost’s rump.

The cat meowed his displeasure before settling back into his nest of fur.

Milo flopped to the porch beside Ghost and scratched his furry head. Without opening his eyes, Ghost whined, his tail thumping in sleepy satisfaction.

Hannah squeezed Liam’s arm. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said.

Hannah made her way through the throngs of her neighbors and friends and settled on the porch steps next to Milo. “Can we talk for a minute?”

“Sure, Mom.”

“Are we okay?”

Milo scrunched his nose. “What do you mean?”

She leaned over and brushed the unruly mess of curls off his forehead. The structure of his face was changing, lengthening and slimming. A version of Noah’s face emerged beneath her son’s disappearing baby fat.

She still sang him to sleep at night, though sometimes he asked for stories from Quinn or Liam. Liam was surprisingly good at it, his voice deep and resonant. He added descriptive details to imaginary battle scenes that Milo ate up like peanut butter.

“You and me,” she said. “I haven’t spent as much time with you as I’ve wanted to.”

“You’ve been busy saving the world.”

“You are the world. My world.”

She examined his complexion, the rise and fall of his chest, the skin beneath his eyes, always checking for signs of adrenal issues.

His meds would last a few more months. They’d need to find more—or make more.

Always more to do.

“I want to make sure you know that. That you’re okay.”

“Yeah.” He tilted his head and chewed on his bottom lip like he was concentrating. “I’m okay.”

She pulled her son into a hug, breathing in the sweaty little boy scent of him. He wrapped his skinny arms around her neck and hugged her back.

“I told Quinn I would share you,” he whispered into her scalp, his breath hot on her ear. “You can be Mom to all three of us, right?”

A pang struck her. A mix of sadness and joy and fierce pride. “That’s a great idea.”

“Can I tell her we’ve adopted her?”

“Of course. I think you’ll make a fantastic little brother.”

She felt his grin against her cheek. “Challenge accepted. And also, do you think she’d like a snake in her bed?”

“Knowing Quinn, she probably wouldn’t mind a bit.”

Laughing uproariously, Milo peeled away from her and scampered off. He whistled to Ghost. “Come on, boy!”