Edge of Valor: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller(13)

A fierce affection swelled in her chest. “No one you need to worry about.”

“Can I play on the playground?”

Her gaze strayed to the figure on the platform. He hadn’t moved or registered her presence. He didn’t pose a threat to them, but she remained wary.

It was early in the morning, and no one else was at the park. Few people had time for leisure these days. The trees sighed in the wind. Water lapped along the riverbank.

She released the stroller and squeezed Milo’s hand. “Don’t wander from the playground. Ghost, stay with him.”

Ghost let out a disgruntled whine, like he’d rather remain near Hannah to keep a sharp eye on James Luther. The dog didn’t trust him. Neither did Hannah.

The Great Pyr returned to her side and pushed his head against her thigh, as if that would change her mind. She rubbed his ears with her free hand, crooked fingers scratching just the way he liked. “I’ll be fine. Watch Milo.”

Ghost chuffed unhappily but obeyed, trotting after Milo with a swish of his plumed tail. He still favored his hind leg. He could run, but not like before.

The bite he’d received defending Quinn and Milo from the feral dogs was healing, but he might never regain his full speed or strength.

With one last glance at her son, Hannah turned her focus to Luther.

Half the town wanted him dead. To protect him, Liam had stashed him in one of the abandoned houses outside of town.

She’d sworn she’d kill him herself if he ever set foot in Fall Creek again.

And yet, here he was.

He’d helped rescue Quinn. He’d saved Quinn and Liam during their escape from Vortex.

That was the one and only reason she didn’t shoot him dead where he stood. It was also the reason she’d agreed to meet with him. A onetime courtesy she already regretted.

Anger slashed through her. He was still militia. He always would be.

She pushed the jogging stroller across the bumpy ground and halted ten feet from the stage. Her right hand still in her pocket, fingers curled around cold hard steel. “What do you want?”

Luther hunched his shoulders against the wind and squinted at her. He was tall and skinny, almost gaunt, with sun-weathered features. Though he wasn’t old, his face held a dour, world-weary look.

“My father,” he said. “Is he—is he still alive?”

“We traded with the National Guard stationed at Cook Nuclear. They had medical supplies. I got him a few more oxygen tanks, but they’re running out. There’s no way to manufacture them —not here in the States, anyway.”

She almost apologized but caught herself. The state of the world wasn’t her fault.

She owed this man nothing.

Dave and Annette had moved Luther’s father from the house at Winter Haven to a room at Fall Creek Inn. Dave had organized a rotating group of volunteers to care for the elderly and sick in the community.

She unhooked the radio from her belt and held it out. “Dave’s on the other end. He’s with your father. You can talk to him for five minutes. That’s it. You understand why we can’t bring him to see you—or vice versa.”

The old man was near death. To bring him to the park and expose him to the elements would risk his deteriorating health.

And allowing Luther into town was a bad idea of another sort.

Hannah handed him the radio and then gave him some privacy. Luther loved his father. She couldn’t begrudge him that.

She pushed Charlotte along the sidewalk ringing the field, alternating between watching Milo and Luther, who clutched the radio to his ear and paced the stage in narrow, restless circles.

His mouth moved, but Hannah couldn’t make out his words.

On the playground, Milo and Ghost played their version of tag—Ghost chased the boy while Milo tried to pelt him with snowballs. Ghost’s resounding barks echoed across the water, mingling with Milo’s laughter.

A few snowflakes spiraled from the gunmetal sky. Charlotte giggled and reached out her mittened hands, attempting to grasp the flakes and shove them into her mouth. Liam’s green and gray knit cap rolled down across her forehead, covering her eyes.

Hannah checked to make sure her daughter’s blue snowsuit was snug, her mittens on, socks pulled up beneath her tiny boots.

Her throat constricted. For a brief instant, she was just a normal mother in a normal park, watching her kids enjoy themselves on a normal day.

An instant later, reality invaded. There was nothing normal about life anymore. The .45 she carried was proof of that.

When she returned to Luther, he handed her the radio with a muttered, “Thank you.”

They stood facing each other, Hannah with the stroller on the ground, Luther on the empty stage, thin and miserable, hugging his arms against his narrow ribcage.

His eyes were red-rimmed. He’d been crying. He ducked his head, as if attempting to hide his emotions. As if he were ashamed of himself. “What you’ve done. How you’ve cared for my dad—”

“I said I would.”

“I didn’t deserve that.”

“I didn’t do it for you.”

“Then…why?”

“I did it for me.”

Luther looked away, blinking hard, his jaw set.

“I told you before. I make a promise, I keep my word. I’m helping a sick old man because it’s the right thing to do, not because you deserve it.”