Edge of Valor: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller(24)

She rolled her eyes. “Really?”

He gave a sheepish shrug. “Humor’s not my forte.”

Her lips twitched. “Clearly.”

His cheeks reddening, he gestured at the room. “So, what’s the plan for all this?”

“We’ll split it amongst ourselves, sell small portions at Trade Day, and keep at least half for the food pantry at Crossway Church to distribute as needed. Tomorrow morning, I’ll get the children and older folks to separate it into small airtight containers.”

“It’s a good thing, giving them something to do.”

“If we all sit around thinking about what’s coming, we’ll go crazy. I know I will.”

For several minutes, they worked in silence. Liam said nothing. Hannah didn’t press him. His shoulders were taut, his entire body thrumming with tension.

When the trash bag was heavy, they tied the top and lifted it into the wheelbarrow, then started work on the second one.

The muscles and tendons in Hannah’s bad hand ached. It took an incredible effort to wrap her warped fingers around the shovel handle. Her hand would never be normal, but with blood, sweat, and tears, she could force the broken parts to bend to her will.

They filled three more bags, stacked them in the wheelbarrow, and hauled them out to the four-wheeler. They loaded both the rack and the trailer on the apple-red 1988 Honda Fourtrax 300. The 4x4 had belonged to Ray Shultz, but they’d redeemed it for good.

Once it was full, they’d bring it back to Molly’s to unload and return for round two.

Liam half-turned away from her, his eyes on the salt. “I should do it. I should turn myself in.”

Hannah stilled. She stared at his back. “No.”

“The town should turn me in.”

“They won’t turn you in.”

“They should.”

“Maybe so, but they won’t.”

He said nothing.

“Liam.”

He turned to face her, his expression bleak. “You have an incredible amount of faith in people.”

“There’s bad in the world. But there’s some good, too. It’s the good I believe in.”

The shadows from the kerosene lanterns wavered across the lines of his rugged face. Even in the low light, he looked exhausted. Shadows beneath his eyes. Tension and worry in every crease of his face.

“They have faith in you, too.”

His broad shoulders slumped, almost as if his body were caving in on itself. “The General has five hundred soldiers. I’m just one man. I’m not some kind of superhero.”

“You’re one of us, now. They won’t give you up, not even to save themselves.”

His face crumpled. Something despondent in his eyes. His stoic toughness faltered.

“I can’t save this town, Hannah.” His voice cracked. “I can’t.”

He carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. What an incredible burden to bear without breaking.

Her chest constricted, her heart swelling with compassion.

“We’re not asking you to,” she whispered. “Not alone. Not by yourself.”

His Adam’s apple hitched. “If I turn myself in—”

“Even if you turned yourself in, there’s no guarantee he won’t raze the town as soon as he kills you. We were all complicit in overthrowing Rosamond. And besides, there’s Winter Haven. I’m sure he’s already eyeing that prize.”

“I know,” Liam said. “I know.”

The silence stretched between them. What could they do? The question hung in the air, unspoken.

Then Liam said, “We could leave.”





15





Hannah





Day One Hundred and Five





Hannah stared at Liam, aghast. “What?”

Liam leaned his shovel against the wheelbarrow and spread his hands, palms out as if surrendering himself to the inevitable. “We’re overwhelmed. You know that.”

Her breath fled from her lungs. The room abruptly too small, the cave walls closing in.

She knew it. Of course she did.

Still, to hear him say it aloud somehow made it more real.

He took a step toward her. His face pained, the features she loved so much contorted in anguish. “We cannot win against these people. We’re building mud huts to stand against a tsunami. Like bows and arrows against tanks. What we can do—what we’ve done—it’s not enough. It won’t be enough.”

“What are you saying?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, opened them. A great weariness in his bearing, something like defeat in his face. “I have two trucks stashed with a full tank of diesel and two jerrycans of biofuel, plus three days of food and water.”

She blinked, surprised. “You…do?”

“I had supplies pre-positioned within two days of arriving at Fall Creek. I’ve added as I’m able.” His expression hardened. “I have a way out prepped. Should all else fail, I can get you and the children out.”

She stared at him, at a loss for words.

“We could escape the General’s net and head north, bypass Grand Rapids, Kalamazoo, any cities, stick to the lesser roads and make it to the U.P.”