Edge of Valor: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller(45)

“He’s at the house, sleeping.”

“I’ll send Perez over to stay with him.” Bishop unhooked his radio. “Any other assailants?”

“Only two. Ghost got that one,” she said, suddenly lightheaded.

The adrenaline dump seized her. Waves of dizziness washed over her, her legs going weak and rubbery.

Liam and Bishop had things under control. Charlotte. She needed Charlotte.

She staggered across the room and crumpled to her knees. “Charlotte, I’m here. I’m right here, honey.”

The baby waved her chubby arms, screaming and red-faced, her eyes squeezed shut in outrage. No visible wounds, but a rug burn reddened her left cheek.

Hannah couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, her stomach in horrified knots. What if her neck was broken? Or her spine misaligned, her skull bruised, or worse?

“Don’t move her!” Evelyn knelt beside Hannah, dressed in silk pajamas, her black hair in disarray. “Let me check her first.”

Against her every instinct, Hannah sank back as Evelyn examined the baby, monitored her vital signs, and checked for internal injuries.

Travis collected L.J. from the crib and cradled him to his chest, rocking him gently and whispering in his ear. The baby’s desperate cries hushed to hiccupping whimpers.

Liam and Bishop dragged the wounded assailant to the corner and shoved him up against the closet door. After frisking him, Liam knelt while Bishop stood watch at the window.

The assailant whimpered and begged for mercy. Liam offered him none.

“I think that one’s good and dead now, buddy,” Travis said to Ghost.

The dog’s jaws were locked around the neck of the first assailant. Ghost gave a last vicious shake of his head. With a snarl, he released his prey.

The mangled body sprawled between the wall and the crib in the corner.

Ghost clambered off the corpse. His hind leg faltered; he yelped in pain.

He must have reinjured himself in the attack's exertion. Undaunted, he hobbled across the room toward Hannah.

Crouched protectively over Charlotte’s tiny form, Ghost glared at Evelyn. A menacing growl rumbled from his throat. His ears flattened, his jowls pulled back from his wet red fangs.

Evelyn froze, one hand pressed to Charlotte’s chest, Ghost’s jaws inches from her wrist.

In a heartbeat, he could snap her bones to splinters.

The Great Pyrenees was huge in the small dark room, all teeth and claws, his thick fur spattered with blood. He looked wild, half-crazed with bloodlust, like a savage beast from fairy tales, a demon wolf from the underworld.

He was ferocious, acting on instinct to guard his precious charge from all creatures not in his herd.

Hannah stretched out her bad hand and placed it on Ghost’s wet muzzle. His panting breath hot on her palm. Her fingers brushed razor-sharp teeth.

Hannah felt no fear. Not from Ghost. Never from Ghost.

He was her dog, and she was his person.

“Good boy, good boy.” Gently, she closed his jaws with her crooked fingers. “Evelyn’s a friend. You know that, boy. You’re worked up from protecting your people. I get it.”

She stroked the top of his snout. Gradually, his growls subsided. “You did everything right.”

Ghost’s tense, bunched muscles relaxed. His ears pricked as he responded to Hannah’s soothing voice.

“You warned me. You protected us. You did everything perfectly. Just perfect.” He tilted his head so she could rub at the scruff of his throat. “You’ve definitely earned some jerky tonight.”

Ghost plopped onto his haunches and lowered his head to Charlotte. He nosed her tiny scrunched face, then tenderly licked her tears, whining in concern.

Charlotte wept fiercely, but she sensed the big dog above her and reached for him eagerly. She adored Ghost as much as he adored her.

Her tiny hands batted at his bloodied muzzle. The jaws that had ripped out a man’s throat were as harmless to Charlotte as one of her teething toys.

“I’m helping Charlotte, Ghost.” Evelyn kept her voice low and steady. “She’s okay, boy. Thanks to you and your momma. She’s gonna be okay.”

“Are you certain?” Hannah asked in a choked voice.

Evelyn turned her head to meet Hannah’s gaze. She kept her movements slow and cautious. “She’s okay, honey. A contusion on the back of her skull that we’ll watch, but she’s fine.”

“Oh, thank God.” Pure relief flooded her veins. Hannah scooped Charlotte into her arms and held her against her chest. Her daughter’s small shuddering body sank into hers.

Charlotte nestled her head into the crook of Hannah’s neck. Hannah cradled her, rocked back and forth on her knees, and crooned sweet nothings against her soft head.

In the warm embrace of her mother, Charlotte’s wails subsided.

Ghost pressed close, leaning into her side and anxiously snuffling Charlotte’s cheeks like he wasn’t taking Hannah’s word for it; he needed to ensure his people’s well-being for himself.

“We have visitors,” Bishop said. “Friendlies.”

Footsteps pounded outside in the hallway.

Ghost raised his head, ears perked. Instead of growling, he let out a welcoming chuff.

“Who do I need to shoot?” Molly shuffled into the room, limping heavily without her cane, the Mossberg gripped firmly in two wrinkled hands.