The Journal: Raging Tide: (The Journal Book 4) by Deborah D. Moore Page A
Authors: Deborah D. Moore
Tags: Dystopian, survivalist, Action Suspense, prepper, prepper survivalist, prepper survival, prepper adventure, post apocalyptic survival, weather disasters, disaster survival
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the exception
of a few more small trees across the road, and we made good
time.
“We’ve come forty miles, Allex, I think
we’re safely past the area Lee warned us about,” Jim said, stopping
the Hummer. “Ready for a break?”
“Yes! Sitting for so long has my hip
stiffening up.”
“You should have said something, Allex. We
could have stopped sooner.”
“No, Jim, I’m fine and I’d rather be away
from the danger. I’ve had enough excitement these last couple of
days.” I walked a few feet back the way we came, stretching my
muscles. I stooped down, brushing aside some leaves. “Morels!”
“Are you sure?”
“Trust me. I know my mushrooms!” I said
gleefully. “Now this is the kind of excitement I like.” I felt
giddy and started looking around more. I found an overgrown logging
trail on the opposite side of the road that held promise. “We’re
going to eat well tonight!”
“Don’t go any further until I come back. I’m
going to move the Hummer off the road and out of sight first,” Jim
said. He backed the big vehicle into another trail. The saplings he
backed over sprung back up in front of the Hummer as soon as they
cleared the under-carriage as good as a natural camouflage could
ever be.
We wandered a hundred yards up the old road,
filling a cloth bag with this wonderful spring delicacy.
I heard Jim grunt and turned to see him
lying on the ground, a short man standing over him with baseball
bat! Suddenly a large sack was slipped over my head and I was
picked up over someone’s shoulder. I tried to scream, but who would
hear me?
“Don’t waste the bullet on him, Carl. He’s
dead!” someone else said as we started to move. Jim is
dead?? I felt an emptiness crush my chest at the thought.
CHAPTER 11
I was jostled
around for ten or fifteen minutes, and then dropped on the cold,
hard ground. The bag was pulled off my head and I saw a dozen or so
men staring at me, one of them covered in inky tattoos. Oh,
shit!
“Oh, looky what we have here,” the tattooed
man said. “A fresh playmate for me!” He grabbed my arm and yanked
me to my feet. “Who is the idiot that left her with a gun?” he
screamed, pulling my Beretta from the holster. “What’s your name
little girl?”
I was silent. I took the moment to observe
this… person. The blue and black tattoos started just above his
shaved eyebrows and traveled across his equally shaved bald head
and down his neck. What skin was visible on his arms was covered in
graphic etchings. This had to be the leader Lee had warned us about
and the camp we thought we were safely past. We had inadvertently
stumbled into a hornet’s nest and it had cost Jim his life.
“I said what’s your name?” he
growled.
“Allexa. What’s yours?” I snapped back.
“They call me Tat,” he said proudly, walking
around me. “Strip!”
“No.”
He reached out and slapped me across the
face. It stung and my first reaction was to retaliate. I slapped
him back. The crowd went silent as Tat grinned, and he hit me
again, hard. I landed on the ground, the sharp gravel digging into
my soft hands. I tasted the coppery tang of blood in my mouth and
spat it out. He yanked me to my feet again.
“You’re a feisty one! We’re gonna have some
fun!” He dragged me toward one of the cabins that circled the open
area.
The two room cabin stank of mildew and
unwashed bodies, and something else I couldn’t quite pinpoint.
Perhaps it was fear. The one room held a bed, a dresser, and a desk
with a chair, with a small bathroom off to the side.
“Now, strip,” Tat leered at me.
“No.” I repeated. He lunged at me, yanking
my jacket off and tossing it on the floor. I pushed him back.
“Yeah, fight me, bitch.” Since that was what
he wanted, I stopped. I didn’t care what he did with me. With Jim
dead, I didn’t care about anything.
*
April 21
Regardless of the face it wears, rape is
still an ugly thing.
April 22
There was a great deal
of a few more small trees across the road, and we made good
time.
“We’ve come forty miles, Allex, I think
we’re safely past the area Lee warned us about,” Jim said, stopping
the Hummer. “Ready for a break?”
“Yes! Sitting for so long has my hip
stiffening up.”
“You should have said something, Allex. We
could have stopped sooner.”
“No, Jim, I’m fine and I’d rather be away
from the danger. I’ve had enough excitement these last couple of
days.” I walked a few feet back the way we came, stretching my
muscles. I stooped down, brushing aside some leaves. “Morels!”
“Are you sure?”
“Trust me. I know my mushrooms!” I said
gleefully. “Now this is the kind of excitement I like.” I felt
giddy and started looking around more. I found an overgrown logging
trail on the opposite side of the road that held promise. “We’re
going to eat well tonight!”
“Don’t go any further until I come back. I’m
going to move the Hummer off the road and out of sight first,” Jim
said. He backed the big vehicle into another trail. The saplings he
backed over sprung back up in front of the Hummer as soon as they
cleared the under-carriage as good as a natural camouflage could
ever be.
We wandered a hundred yards up the old road,
filling a cloth bag with this wonderful spring delicacy.
I heard Jim grunt and turned to see him
lying on the ground, a short man standing over him with baseball
bat! Suddenly a large sack was slipped over my head and I was
picked up over someone’s shoulder. I tried to scream, but who would
hear me?
“Don’t waste the bullet on him, Carl. He’s
dead!” someone else said as we started to move. Jim is
dead?? I felt an emptiness crush my chest at the thought.
CHAPTER 11
I was jostled
around for ten or fifteen minutes, and then dropped on the cold,
hard ground. The bag was pulled off my head and I saw a dozen or so
men staring at me, one of them covered in inky tattoos. Oh,
shit!
“Oh, looky what we have here,” the tattooed
man said. “A fresh playmate for me!” He grabbed my arm and yanked
me to my feet. “Who is the idiot that left her with a gun?” he
screamed, pulling my Beretta from the holster. “What’s your name
little girl?”
I was silent. I took the moment to observe
this… person. The blue and black tattoos started just above his
shaved eyebrows and traveled across his equally shaved bald head
and down his neck. What skin was visible on his arms was covered in
graphic etchings. This had to be the leader Lee had warned us about
and the camp we thought we were safely past. We had inadvertently
stumbled into a hornet’s nest and it had cost Jim his life.
“I said what’s your name?” he
growled.
“Allexa. What’s yours?” I snapped back.
“They call me Tat,” he said proudly, walking
around me. “Strip!”
“No.”
He reached out and slapped me across the
face. It stung and my first reaction was to retaliate. I slapped
him back. The crowd went silent as Tat grinned, and he hit me
again, hard. I landed on the ground, the sharp gravel digging into
my soft hands. I tasted the coppery tang of blood in my mouth and
spat it out. He yanked me to my feet again.
“You’re a feisty one! We’re gonna have some
fun!” He dragged me toward one of the cabins that circled the open
area.
The two room cabin stank of mildew and
unwashed bodies, and something else I couldn’t quite pinpoint.
Perhaps it was fear. The one room held a bed, a dresser, and a desk
with a chair, with a small bathroom off to the side.
“Now, strip,” Tat leered at me.
“No.” I repeated. He lunged at me, yanking
my jacket off and tossing it on the floor. I pushed him back.
“Yeah, fight me, bitch.” Since that was what
he wanted, I stopped. I didn’t care what he did with me. With Jim
dead, I didn’t care about anything.
*
April 21
Regardless of the face it wears, rape is
still an ugly thing.
April 22
There was a great deal
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