Edge of Valor: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller(37)

Spring was in the air, and despite the looming threats, people were emerging from their winter shelters, stepping blinking into the sunshine.

Everyone dirtier, skinnier, and tougher, but alive.

There was life here.

Where there was life, there was hope.

Hannah clung to that hope as she dismounted and parked her bike next to a concrete barrier. Milo leapt off his bike, hurriedly lowered the kickstand, and ran off to greet Jonas and Whitney, who were both on watch duty. He left the water and snacks in the bike trailer.

“Milo, don’t forget—”

But he was gone. Ghost trotting after him, eager to be adored by the masses. Kicking her fat legs, Charlotte cooed and reached after her big brother.

Hannah patted her head. “He has the memory of a gnat, that one.”

Across the bridge, Old 31 featured a maze of strategically placed vehicles, concertina wire, and concrete barriers. Barbed wire lined the sides of the road to help prevent bad guys from bailing from their vehicles and flanking the barricade on foot.

Two dump trucks placed nose-to-nose blocked the road like a gate. A secondary defense behind the dump trunks composed of stacked dirt-filled barrels provided cover for various fighting positions in case an enemy force breached the trucks.

Perez jogged toward her from the opposite end of the barricade. She wore tan khakis, combat boots, and a hunter green fleece jacket. With her fierce expression, thick muscles, and the Sig Sauer MPX carbine gripped in both hands, she made for an intimidating opponent.

She spat on the ground when Hannah informed her of the news. “They’ve made their bed—now they can lie in it.”

“They’re our neighbors,” Hannah reminded her. “And we could use their help.”

Perez rolled her eyes. “They could use our help, you mean. Face it, we’re on our own, but that doesn’t mean we’re not gonna kick some righteous ass.”

Hannah shot her a tight smile. “At least someone’s optimistic.”

Perez fairly vibrated with combative energy. “Damn straight.”

Liam exited Vinson’s pharmacy across the street, took a moment to scan the area, then approached them. He carried both his M4 across his chest and his Remington 700 slung over his shoulder.

At the sight of him, her stomach fluttered. Ignoring it, Hannah repeated the news and told them what had happened with the radio.

“We’ve got the same problem,” Perez said. “Got reports from the scouts that the General’s men destroyed a couple of our repeater stations. It’s gonna make communicating with our forward observers a real pain.”

“Can we fix them?” Hannah asked.

“Probably not,” Liam said. “It’s too risky. The General will watch the repeaters, ready to spring a trap.”

“At least it’s not all of them,” Perez said. “The ones set up in town are still working—well, most of them. There’s that.”

Liam looked south across the barricade, brow wrinkled, his lips pursed.

Hannah shivered. “Will the Syndicate cross the border?”

Perez shielded her eyes. “I freaking hope not. Like one deadly enemy isn’t enough. We need two, now? I feel like we’re caught in a bad episode of the Twilight Zone.”

“It’s Murphy’s Law,” Liam said. “Anything that can go wrong, will.”

Perez glanced across the street at Jonas, Whitney, and Milo and lowered her voice. “It’s like a hurricane. Or a tornado. You know it’s out there, heading straight toward you, but there’s not a damn thing you can do to stop it.”

Hannah watched Liam. A wind gust kicked up a swirl of half-rotted leaves and trash detritus heaped along the curb. It was abruptly ten degrees colder.

Liam didn’t speak. He didn’t take his eyes off the horizon, as if he could see what lay beyond it simply by looking hard enough.

The multitude of enemies amassing against them, just out of sight.

The fate that awaited them all.





25





Quinn





Day One Hundred and Nine





Quinn bent over the long rows of seedlings inside the greenhouse and groaned.

“I’m the old one in this equation,” Gran said. “If I’m not complaining, why are you?”

Quinn grunted. “Not complaining. Just expressing my feelings.”

“When I was your age—”

“I know, I know. You walked five miles to school uphill both ways. In the snow. Barefoot.”

Gran cackled. “You forgot naked.”

“Uh! Gran! Now I’ve got that mental picture locked in my brain. Thanks so much.”

“You’re welcome,” Gran deadpanned.

Quinn rolled her eyes. At least the swelling had gone down enough to see.

Her AR-15 lay next to her within easy reach. Just like Gran’s Mossberg. They never went anywhere without protection, not even their own backyard.

Though there were now twenty greenhouses scattered throughout town, Gran wanted her own. The enclosed space would keep precious food growing year-round, even during Michigan’s bitter winters.

Quinn and Jonas had made it happen. He hung around a lot. She didn’t dislike it.

Picking a flat, sunny spot, they’d constructed a twelve-by-twenty-four greenhouse using mostly two-by-fours and polyethylene plastic sheeting. They used two layers of the plastic, the inner and outer shells creating an air gap to act as an insulator.