After (Book 3): Milepost 291 by Scott Nicholson Page B

shining sea.”
    How
do you know? Got a satellite feed back at your camp? Or did the aliens beam it
straight through your tinfoil skullcap?
    “I’d
rather take my chances on my own,” DeVontay said. “Besides, they didn’t attack
me when they had the chance. They just kind of…monitored me.”
    The
bearded man plucked DeVontay’s knife from its holster and finally lowered his
gun, but it was still pointed in DeVontay’s general direction. “Yeah, seems
like they quit raging, burning, and murdering. But it feels like they’re up to
something even creepier. Like they already know they’ve won.”
    DeVontay
didn’t like the idea that Zapheads were exhibiting signs of intelligence and
organization, however rudimentary. But that theory didn’t jibe with their
filthy clothes, eerie silence, and lack of purpose.
    And
were these two guys much better? Shooting at him, bossing him around?
    He
moved his right hand to dig in his pocket, causing both men to raise their
weapons to his chest. He held up his other hand, palm open. “Easy. I don’t have
any weapons.”
    “Take
‘er slow,” warned Orange Cap.
    DeVontay
pulled out a couple of Slim Jims, which were protected from the water by their
plastic wrappings. “This is all I have left after you made me lose my kayak.”
    The
bearded man turned and headed into the trees, motioning DeVontay to follow.
“Better come with us then.”
    DeVontay
glanced wistfully downstream, where the kayak’s bow bobbed just above the
surface as it tumbled along the rapids.
    Should
have taken a damned bike instead.
    The
bearded man fell in behind DeVontay, and soon they were through the weeds and
knotty trees and following the narrow road.

 
     
     
     
    CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
     
    Franklin finally caught up with Robertson and his daughter
Shay where they waited behind a big Ford delivery van. The van was axle-deep in
a ditch along the road, and no doubt a rotted corpse was slumped over the
wheel.
    “Where
is he?” Franklin asked, trying to disguise his raspy panting.
    “Circling
the house,” Robertson said. “I guess he’s checking it out.”
    “Finally
getting some sense. Heroes don’t last long in After.”
    “We
all have to be heroes now,” Shay said, and Franklin couldn’t tell if she was
putting him on or not. Her generation was weaned on Facebook and texting, and Franklin wasn’t sure they could string more than six words together.
    Franklin peered around the van and studied the house whose
chimney was leaking wood smoke. It was a one-story, brick ranch house. No
movement in the yard, and the curtains were drawn. Two cars were parked out
front and the garage door was open, but that meant nothing—the house’s original
owners could have been preparing for a trip when the wave of cataclysmic solar
flares swept across the planet.
    Only
two other houses were in sight, but Franklin didn’t draw much comfort from the
area’s lack of population density. Even though fewer people meant fewer
Zapheads, Franklin figured any survivors would have headed for safer territory
by now—even though Robertson and Shay had fared pretty well since the storms.
    Until
the government happened.
    “See
him?” Robertson asked, cradling the shotgun and poking his head up just enough
to peer through the van’s windows.
    “I
hope he’s not dumb enough to go up and knock,” Franklin said. “He might get a
bullet in the throat.”
    “You
don’t think his wife and kid are still alive, do you?”
    Franklin shook his head. “Doubt it. That little Zaphead baby
was bad news. I knew it from the jump. I should have…”
    “Should
have what?” Shay asked after a moment.
    He
looked at her big blue eyes. She still had enough innocence for all of them,
despite what those pig-assed soldiers had tried to do to her. But she would
learn.
    “Should
have stayed with them,” Franklin finished. No need to tell her about the hard
choices that were now necessary. Soon she’d be making choices of her