Edge of Valor: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller(98)
On day eleven, he could hobble out of bed with the aid of a cane—Molly’s cane.
The pain was a monster—a constant, living thing inside him, eating him alive. His nerves scorched raw. His feet like concrete blocks dragging behind him, incredible effort put into each battered step.
Without access to top-notch x-rays, MRIs, CAT scans, and other tests, Evelyn couldn’t confirm whether his injuries were permanent or whether he might regain significant mobility with months of rehabilitation.
“It’s in God’s hands,” she told him. “And yours. Something tells me that if anyone can recover from this, it’s you.”
Liam damned well planned to try.
He shoved his hand into his pocket and felt the lumpy knitting, closed his fingers around the tiny hat. Thought of his twin brother. And Jessa. How he’d brought his nephew home.
He’d done a few good things with his life. Kept a few promises.
His chest thrummed with the ferocity of his love—and his resolve. He was down, but he wasn’t out.
Not by a long shot.
76
Hannah
Day One Hundred and Thirty
Luther’s father died in his sleep.
Lee had warned Hannah that the time was near. She sat beside the old man’s bedside and held his hand and spoke to him as his weak heart failed and his breathing became more and more labored.
She told him how Fall Creek had been saved, how his son had redeemed himself in the end, sacrificing his life for Liam’s.
James Luther had died a hero.
“I hope he knew I was proud of him,” the old man wheezed.
“I’m sure that he knew,” Hannah said and clasped his trembling hand. “He knew.”
At ten-fifteen p.m. on May 2nd, two weeks after his son, he died at peace, a look of contentment upon his withered face.
Afterward, Hannah called her brother on Dave’s ham radio. “I just needed to hear your voice.”
“It’s good to hear from you, sis,” Oliver said, his voice both close and far away. “It’s funny, I think I missed you more in the last two weeks than the last five years. I guess…I guess I didn’t realize how lonely it gets here, you know?”
“Come to Fall Creek,” she said. “I want you here. I want you to meet my family.”
He hesitated for a moment. She waited, heart in her throat.
“It’s a long journey. It’s dangerous.”
“This place—it’s special. We’re doing more than just surviving. I want that for you, too.”
“Okay,” her brother said. “I’ll come. I’ll come to you.”
Hannah closed her eyes and whispered a prayer of gratitude.
“It’ll take me awhile,” he said. “To gather supplies. Scavenge enough gas and plot the safest course.”
“Take your time, Oliver.” She smiled to herself. “We’re not going anywhere.”
77
Hannah
Day One Hundred and Thirty-One
The next day, they paused in the busyness of spring planting to conduct a funeral for those who had sacrificed their lives for Fall Creek.
James Luther was included among their number. Robert Vinson and Dallas Chapman had given their lives in the final battle. And Molly, who had offered her life to save Quinn and little Joey. They were all heroes.
At the funeral, Hannah sang, pure and clear and euphonious, her voice filling all the empty spaces, rising over the trees and soaring into the sky, up and away toward the heavens.
Bishop spoke words of remembrance, encouragement, and hope. Everyone brought wildflowers to decorate the graves. Quinn painted the crosses in shades of vibrant greens, browns, and blues—flowers and vines and trees and snaking rivers. It was beautiful.
Afterward, they went to Molly’s place and set up camping chairs and folding tables in the backyard, bringing out a smorgasbord of food they’d grown with their own hands.
They had mourned their losses. Now, it was time for gratitude. To give thanks and celebrate life. To appreciate everything—and everyone—they still had.
May was turning out to be lovely. Flowers sprang up everywhere overnight. The fragile, dewy scents of jasmine and lilies infused the warm air. White fluffy clouds drifted across the cobalt blue sky like rafts of cotton candy.
Not everyone could enjoy the festivities. There were still patrols and sentry duty. Two defeated enemies did not guarantee there would not be more.
There would be.
Later, Hannah and Dave would do the circuit and bring everyone plates of cornbread drizzled with honey, Molly’s famous chili, salad with baby tomatoes, and potatoes sprinkled with pink Himalayan salt.
Mick Sellers had found the supplies so Jamal could repair the repeater stations, and they had restored contact with the Community Alliance and the surrounding towns.
Trade Day at the Berrien County Youth Fairgrounds was back on the docket, scheduled for the following Friday. Hannah had a lot of salt to trade.
Rumors were spreading of steam engine trains, pulled from museums, that were running again in Virginia. Nearer to home, Lakeland Hospital had procured an industrial diesel generator, and could power a couple of operating rooms and a few ICU beds.