Devastation

By Kevin J. McArthur

Imagine that you wake one morning and everything you have come to know is gone. Your home and car, place of business, even loved ones, are all gone. How would you survive?
On leave from the U.S. Marine Corps, Jason Black considered himself fortunate the morning an unnatural catastrophic wind devastated Charlotte, North Carolina. Despite concerns for a distant fiance, Jason holes up with other survivors in the ruins of a warehouse. Among the survivors, Kelly “Rocky” López is an attractive, thirty something single mother determined to return to her Utah family.
With diminishing resources, the survivors send Jason and Rocky in search of rescue and the cause of the mysterious storm. Their dangerous trek leads across a demolished countryside and into perilous encounters with other survivors. Scrounging daily for food, water, and shelter, they attempt to survive in a world where necessities are luxuries and conflicts turn deadly.
A suspenseful tale of survival, tenacity and the power of the human spirit to overcome “Devastation.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kevin J. McArthur
• Release date: Jul 31, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465886927

Kevin J. McArthur

Kevin J. McArthur is a freelance writer currently residing in Oregon. The single father of six children began writing on a whim when asked by an author friend to write a guide book for single dads. His first work, "Surviving the Single Dad Syndorme" was published in 2004 and is currently out of print. Since the book enjoyed moderate success, the author is considering releasing a future updated edition.Kevin J. McArthur enjoys writing a variety of genres. "Angel: Camden's Journey" is a fantasy fiction novel, the first in the "Angel Series," and is due for release in May, 2012. While "Devastation" is a general fiction novel, like all of the author's works, it contains spiritual or religious overtones. Recently completed "Benjamin Ridge" is another general fiction novel based on true events. The book is a tragic yet heartwarming tale of a family broken, then rejoined. The author also co-wrote a book with his father, Earl Clare McArthur titled "Jonathon's Secret Love" published in October of 2010. "Jonathon's Secret Love" is a romantic Amish tale with an interesting twist. The author is currently working on other fiction novels.

Book preview

Comments from readers of Devastation:

Voted number thirteen of the top sixteen Great End of the World books by Kindle Tips and Tricks readers in February, 2012

Highly recommended: This is a very well thought out book, describing the time after a cataclysmic event. Does a great job of analyzing the challenges faced by two people trying to get cross country in a post-apocalyptic time. Good job of character development and making you relate to the characters.

I would say this is one of the best books I've read that approaches this subject.~Oldscififanatatic

Good read. Very good apocalyptic survival tale.

Hope the author writes more books.~Susan Sherlock

I read the prologue and first chapter and was sucked right into the story. I found myself not wanting the journey to be over! This book not only sparked my imagination but also made me realize what is truly worth it in life and where to find genuine happiness. I have come to realize from this book that happiness doesn't come from material objects but from the people in your life.

Brad wags >Ogden, Utah.

Devastation

A novel by Kevin McArthur

Smashwords Edition

Copyright, December, 2011, Kevin McArthur

Thank you for downloading this free ebook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com/kevinmcarthur, where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

Discover other titles by Kevin J. McArthur either through the author’s official website:

Kevinjmcarthur.com or through select, online book retailers.

Other books by Kevin J. McArthur include:

Benjamin Ridge

Surviving the Single Dad Syndrome (non-fiction)

Tips for Novice Fiction Writers (non-fiction)

available in online bookstores:

Angel: Camden’s Journey (first in the Angel series)

Angel: The Awakening (second in the Angel series)

Jonathon’s Secret Love (co-authored with Earl Clare McArthur)

Table of Contents:

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Epilogue

About the Author

Angel: Camden’s Journey

Chapter 1

Acknowledgements:

The support I’ve received from family and friends through the writing of this book has been overwhelming.

To my parents, your faith and excitement for the writing are truly an inspiration.

To my children, Shiloh, Kiley, Danica, Camden, Rachael, and Hailey, I thank you for your unending encouragement. Two characters brought the words close to my heart and immortalized Rachael and Hailey.

I feel blessed to have a guiding light in the form of Trina West, who helped nudge me toward writing.

To Tresa Taylor-Brown, my dear friend, roommate and love, I thank you for your unwavering support through the completion of this novel.

To a friend from another lifetime, Christine Ganoe, whom I haven’t spoken with since High School, thank you, Chris!

A special thanks to fellow author, and longtime friend, Edette Crump for her encouragement.

In addition, warm regards to Janel Haas, whose friendship and adorable spirit provide a needed respite when writing demands a life away from the computer. Namaste’ my friend.

Finally, to Kelly Rocky Armer–words cannot express gratitude for allowing me to name a character after her, and in sharing a glimpse of her history, which provided energetic depth to a wonderful story–insight which transformed Rocky into one of my favorite characters.

Where no light exists, a woman’s heart illuminates the darkness.

PROLOGUE

Journal entry:

June 7, 2009

This world seems surreal. It’s been three weeks since the wind came. Fortunately, the morning of the storm, I had thrown my overnight bag into the car since makeup and toiletries wouldn’t fit in the briefcase. I wish I’d tossed in a change of clothing but who would have expected this? While lugging meager possessions through city blocks of rubble, I wondered if possessions were indeed a blessing.

I’ve wandered from uptown Charlotte to the outskirts. Thus far, food, of a sort, has been easy to find; canned food, granola bars, and bits of beef jerky and crackers. The snickers bar I found Monday was a blessing despite flattening it with my shoe. I now realize that I have never truly appreciated chocolate. I spend daylight hours searching for water–at night I curl up in what shelter I find, praying for bits of safe undisturbed sleep.

Water must be a priority today, though I suspect water from canned fruit will suffice for a time. Three days ago, I found a full water bottle in the street. I’m sorry to say, it didn’t last long. My body needed it.

In the past I have taken simple luxuries for granted, like turning a tap for a glass of water–a safe place to sleep and hot meals. Above all, I miss the company of friends. And coffee. I’ve had no coffee for three weeks. Who would have guessed I could forego coffee for a single day? What I wouldn’t give for a latte.

Few survivors roam the ruins. Of those I’ve seen, I’ve decided avoidance is my safest tact–in the past friends have accused me of being too trusting. Misplaced trust in this place would be my undoing. Fortunately, survivors focus on searching for food and water. I hid on the street from the last survivor six days ago, a grizzled old man who looked as though he had been homeless before the destruction. I wonder if he had seen my threadbare outfit would he have thought the same of me? I find it ironic how nature can be the great equalizer.

I had hoped for rescue the day after the storm, two or three days at most. Where is the army during all of this? Following Hurricane Katrina, the National Guard swarmed New Orleans within days. Planes or helicopters–I’ve neither seen nor heard them. I’d think at least news crews would fly over the city. I must plan beyond wandering the streets–must find a way home. Home is so far away. My cell phone is useless and my daughters must be worried sick.

Three days ago, I wandered into a storefront where I now sit. So far, no one has discovered my hideaway but I imagine it’s only a matter of time before someone stumbles in here. The walls have survived better than most buildings; the rear wall stands ten feet above me. The floor is littered with camping and hiking gear, freeze-dried food, power bars and dried meat–but no water. Due to this fortunate find, I now own a backpack and a loaded pistol. Thank God, for small miracles.

Speaking of miracles, I could certainly use a big one. Heavenly Father, I know you are busy with all of this going on. I’m not sure how much longer I can endure. I must have water soon–and if You see fit, could You spare an angel to guide me from this place? I would certainly be grateful.

CHAPTER 1

A figure huddled nervously behind a pile of rubble. The unshaven man dressed in dirty military fatigues scanned ruins for signs of movement. Then he scurried from one mound to the next to hide from a dim, red flashing light moving slowly through a ravaged street.

Filtered sunlight cast a colorless blanket over the city, excluding the red light fading in the distance. A few sparse buildings remained intact. Within the structures, a handful of survivors congregated. For the others perhaps, an orderly structure provided a glimmer of a civilized past. On the other hand, shelter in building remnants or a hollowed refuge beneath the ruins suited the unshaven man.

He knew survivors who had migrated to an abandoned storehouse only by vocation, the police officer, the firefighter, the CEO–a delightful woman, the carpenter, the plumber, the bicycle messenger, and the stockbroker. He had been fourth to arrive, Jason Black, a marine trained in Special Operations and stationed at Camp Lejeune. Survivors simply called him, Black.

Since the wind had originated from the east, the group had decided the best hope to reach civilization would be west. Three days ago, the stockbroker had returned from a journey to evaluate the destruction. According to the broker, he had walked due west for seven days and had found only desolation.

Jason had been fortunate the day the wind blew. While on leave in Charlotte, he had driven twenty-minutes for an exercise run in the foothills below Mount Holly. After parking the Ford Explorer, he ran three miles up a lonely highway. Then in an instant, the ground heaved and tossed him six feet in the air. Terrain rose and fell a half dozen times. He rode out the quake sprawled on his back.

Earthquakes were unusual in this part of the country but he supposed stranger things had happened. When the ground had settled, the wind howled greater than the force of a hurricane, though he had never experienced a hurricane first hand. He had scrambled into a deep ditch and huddled inside a concrete storm culvert to wait out the storm.

The culvert opening filled with debris ranging from trees to ragged scraps of buildings and farm equipment and then cleared again. He recalled a late model Isuzu Trooper crashing into the ditch. The driver, a wild-eyed middle-aged man, stared directly at him. Jason scrambled for the Isuzu but the wind had snatched it up. The memory haunted him during long dark nights before sleep.

Cause for the wind remained a mystery. The others were equally bewildered. The group had discussed possibilities, a massive hurricane, or a bomb, and a volcanic eruption, which is unlikely for North Carolina. His suspicion of a bomb resulted from Marine Operations Center training. Instinct attributed disasters of this magnitude to unfriendlies. Fortunately, he had trained under worse conditions. Unlike other survivors, training provided him an advantage; survival requires adaptation.

This reminded him that his leave had ended two weeks ago. He imagined Camp Lejeune had suffered equal damage. Military constructed barracks would withstand normal weather events but none this intense. He doubted base personnel would search for him. Still, given the opportunity, he would return to base. For now, survival was priority, survival for him and for the others.

He scurried across the street to a warehouse where the others routinely assembled to share spoils before nightfall. Survivors had bonded quickly over the past weeks. Everyone shared and shared alike to the best of his knowledge. Each day those healthy enough scavenged for useful items. Earlier in the day, Jason had secured a set of cutting knives complete with butcher-block holder, a cast iron skillet, and a bundle of climbing rope. Meager rewards for a day on the street. His sights had been set on a steel bathtub until the flashing red light had interrupted him. Perhaps he would retrieve it in the morning.

He entered the warehouse to see the stockbroker strip off his suit coat, roll up his sleeves, and address the group, I’m telling you, you could walk west for a month and not find a city still standing.

Well we can’t stay here. The carpenter argued, Food is gettin’ scarce. Canned goods are still edible. Perishables rotted away weeks ago. I’d give my right arm for a nice thick steak about now.

The bicycle messenger eyed his approach and said, Hey, Jason’s back.

The stockbroker examined Jason’s bounty. What did you find, Black?

The broker, always first to inventory items, pronounced his name like profanity. Jason suspected the man hoarded supplies somewhere outside. He displayed the paltry items.

That’s all you brought, boy? Have you been napping all day?

Few men irritated Jason Black as the stockbroker did. Yet, he couldn’t pinpoint exactly why, not that he had given the man much thought. What’s your take for the day?

The stockbroker brandished two liquor bottles. I hit the mother lode! And more where these came from!

You’re the only one who’ll drink it.

Medicine fool! Antiseptic!

Jason’s eyes flared. The bicycle messenger stepped close and reached for the butcher block. These will be handy, she muttered drawing the largest knife to study her reflection in the steel. After running a thumb along the edge, she leered toward the broker. Sharp. She took the cast iron skillet from Jason. Thanks, Black. Good job.

The broker unscrewed a liquor bottle cap, filled a cup, and drank.

Anyway, Black, the broker continued, I told the others we could walk west for a month and not find civilization. It’s not worth the effort. Some of us might not make the walk. He eyed the carpenter, a sixty-something, gray haired man.

Jason had first noticed the carpenter’s kind eyes when the man had arrived three weeks ago. The man reminded him of his grandfather who recently turned seventy-one, if he had survived. Like his grandfather, the carpenter’s hands showed strength from a lifetime of honest labor.

The CEO stepped to the center, May I say something? She crossed arms tightly across her chest and studied the floor. I think we have to try, not all of us, but we need to know where we stand. For all we know, we’re the last survivors, or perhaps, civilization is only a hundred miles away.

Jason interrupted, While I hope you’re right about the hundred miles, we would have seen fighter planes over the city. I suspect the storm took out everything for at least a few hundred miles. I’m willing to travel as far as necessary.

The plumber, a red haired plump man, voted. No objection here. You’d make it quicker than the rest of us. He looked to the firefighter, a strapping lad in his mid-twenties. Jack?

The firefighter nodded, I’ll go along. I’m in fair shape.

Jason liked the young firefighter. Quiet kid, hard-working, and from what Jason had observed, resourceful. You’d be a great asset, you’re strong. They’ll need your strength here. I’m willing to go alone.

The CEO shook her head. I don’t like one man traveling alone, Black. It’s like putting all of our eggs in one basket, not that I don’t have faith in your ability.

I’m afraid I’d just hold you back. The carpenter interjected. I’m not as young as I used to be.

I’ll go. The bike messenger volunteered. Jason had wondered about her, twentyish, still dressed in cyclist garb, tight shorts, and a form-fitting shirt. Thighs and calves were muscular. A pixyish face hinted she might be younger than he suspected.

Jason moved close to her. I’m afraid I’d never keep up with you, little one. He brushed her cheek. You bring more supplies than anyone. They need you here too.

I wouldn’t be much use with this hand. The police officer held up a bandaged right hand, the result of a recent injury while plundering a department store. He looked to the plumber.

Trick knee. The plumber said sheepishly. I can’t walk a mile.

When attention focused on the broker, the man fidgeted and sipped from the cup.

Well, the CEO said. I guess that leaves me, Black. I haven’t run a mile in twenty years. I might make a hike of three or four, anything more and I’m afraid you’d have to carry me.

It’s okay, Jason waved her off to study the stockbroker. This group needs a strong leader, and you are, ma’am.

The stockbroker opened his mouth to speak and then thought better of it.

The police officer spoke. Black, you’ll need gear. I found a sporting goods store still partially standing. The officer motioned with his good hand. Go four blocks north, then east a block and a half. I went through it four days ago and found the water jugs. You should find what you’ll need.

Good, I can make it before dark.

The bike messenger stepped forward, I’ll give you a hand.

Appreciate it, Black answered. Anyone need anything?

The carpenter motioned with his chin, Still thinkin’ about that steak.

Jason crossed to a barrel propped on a side table. After filling a plastic water bottle, he drank, refilled the container and slipped it into his pocket. With a wink toward the carpenter, he said, If I run across any, the thickest one is yours.

Good man. Be careful out there.

Will do. Jason stepped through the warehouse door.

As Jason and the bicycle messenger picked a path through the rubble, Jason asked, So, you got a name?

Rachael, but my friends call me Ray; my dad always calls me Rach. Her boots kicked up tiny dust clouds from the pavement.

So where’s your dad?

He lived over on the Barrier Islands…chances for him aren’t good.

Well, you never know what people might survive. Look at all of us; we were in the right place at the right time. Jason motioned as they approached a street corner. It should be up this way.

After rounding the corner, they walked the block and a half the carpenter had indicated. Jason examined an open doorway and stepped inside. The roof had fallen; bricks and debris littered the aisles. Still, the building appeared in better condition than most. Be careful. He said, The walls may be unstable.

Rachael followed inside, then picked through stacks of merchandise. She spied a mound of backpacks, lifted one, and announced, This looks like a good start.

Good find. Jason slipped the pack over his shoulders. This will work; lots of compartments to store things in. He removed the pack and explored deeper into the store, gathering four water bottles, a bundle of rope and a camp saw. A crash sounded from the rear.

Jason… Rachael lifted a hand. Someone’s in back.

Nah, we probably startled a dog or cat. I don’t hear anything now. He resumed picking inventory. I need something to start a fire and a knife, I need a good knife.

Rachael gathered foil packages. Food, freeze dried food for backpackers. This is a treasure trove! She filled the backpack, and retrieved another armload, cramming packets until the pack bulged.

Whoa, hold on. I’m not packin’ those.

It’s for the others. This should shut the broker up. She retrieved a second backpack and transferred packets from Jason’s pack into her own. As she swung the pack to her shoulder, her head swiveled toward the shadows. She whispered, Black, someone is back there!

Jason dropped a silverware kit into the pack. You heard something?

Yeah, someone is sneaking around.

Black rose and surveyed the front, then studied shadows at the far end. I’ll check it out.

Rachael dropped the pack and followed, You’re not leaving me here alone.

Okay, stay close. Jason crouched and crept toward the rear wall. As the pair reached the shadows, he paused to allow eyes to adjust to dim light. Rachael squatted next to him. A sound of clicking steel cut the silence.

Not another step! A female voice called from the darkness.

Rachael’s heart hammered in her chest, This isn’t good.

Put your hands in the air and stand up slowly. The voice commanded.

The pair raised hands and slowly stood. Black scanned shadows for the speaker. We’re unarmed.

Well, I’m not. I have a nine millimeter Walther trained on your head.

We didn’t mean to startle you. Rachael called.

What are you doing here?

Looking for supplies, just like you. Jason glimpsed a pistol pointed squarely at his face. He focused on a female behind it. We have no reason to harm you.

Then don’t give me reason to shoot. What’s your name?

Jason Black. People call me Black. I’m military.

Rachael gulped, My name’s Rachael. I’m a bicycle messenger. We’ve been holed up in a warehouse with some others, a few blocks from here.

There are others?

Yes, six others so far.

Following the directed pistol, the woman stepped from behind a steel rack. Do you have water?

We have some–more at the warehouse, Rachael motioned with her thumb, and food.

The woman stepped closer. I have food–those freeze dried packets you were going through. I need water–water is hard to find.

Rachael examined the woman. Trim, grimy faced, about five feet four inches tall and appeared to be aged middle to late thirties. Tattered clothing resembled a business suit. White athletic shoes contrasted a dark skirt and sport coat. Red crimson liquid trickled from her calf. You’re injured. Rachael pointed hesitantly.

The woman glanced at her leg, It’s nothing. I ran into a clothing rack, then lowered the gun. You look harmless enough. Put your hands down.

Jason lowered his arms and tossed the woman the water bottle. Have you been hiding out here?

I wandered in three days ago. The woman caught the bottle mid-air then slid the pistol into her belt. You’ll find a lot of supplies here, except for the water. She upended the bottle, drank, and stepped from the shadows.

Jason motioned. We found a spring north of town, not far from the grain silos. I can take you.

She studied him through large brown eyes. Behind the soiled face, she appeared to be Hispanic–and attractive. Appreciate it. She took another long draw, emptying the bottle. I know where most everything is. What are you looking for?

The woman tossed the bottle to Black; he slipped it into his pocket as they walked toward the front. We’ve rounded up most of it. I’ll need a good knife, something to start a fire with and a water purifier. Rachael and Jason lifted backpacks.

The woman motioned. That’s a lot of stuff.

Yeah, Jason rummaged merchandise. We’re taking food back for the group, and I’m hiking west tomorrow, to look for others.

The woman picked a package from the floor and offered it to him. Here’s your water purifier. People call me Rocky.

He examined the shrink-wrapped package. This will work. Rocky is an unusual name.

Thanks.

Not the first time you’ve heard that, huh?

Nope, not even close. She motioned, Knives are over here.

Jason followed through aisles, picked a survival knife and unscrewed a cap from the handle. He upended the knife, emptying tiny items into his palm. Contents consisted of a needle, a miniature roll of thread, a small circle of clear fishing line, six fishhooks of various sizes, a flint rod and three cotton balls." He repacked the items and replaced the lid.

Rocky offered another package, Flint, and steel.

The trio toured the building acquiring pistols, ammunition, a compass, and several packages of beef jerky. As they fitted sturdy hiking boots, Rocky asked, How far west are you going, Black?

Not sure, he grunted pulling bootlaces, until I find help.

Do you plan to hike all the way?

I don’t have a plan. I’ll take it as it comes, I guess.

Are you traveling alone?

Yeah, no one else is up for the trip. Rachael here is a good scavenger, so she’s opted to stay behind.

Rachael laced a boot, and grumbled, Under protest.

Rocky stood to test the boots then asked, You want company? Black eyed her curiously. The woman shrugged, I’m from Utah. I flew in to attend a business conference. I have… people. I need to get back. You’re the best option so far.

I don’t think so. It’ll be a rough trip. Best if you stay here. There’s safety in numbers.

Rocky appeared annoyed, I’ll need better clothes.

Me too, Rachael agreed. Let’s do some shopping.

While the women crossed the store, Black gathered remaining items from a mental checklist. As daylight dimmed, women returned dressed in camouflage jump suits and hats. Rocky carried a fully loaded backpack.

Rachael spread arms for Black’s approval. Better?

Black muttered. Um…yeah. They’re pink.

Rachael displayed a leg, and giggled, And Capris…stylish.

At least they’ll wear well. He snickered and glanced at Rocky’s backpack. Got everything you need?

Hope so. If not, I’ll make do.

Jason shrugged the pack on. We’d better head back. It’ll be dark soon. He lifted three sleeping bag rolls, handing a fourth to Rachael. We’ll send the others back for more.

As Jason and Rachael stepped through the doorway, Rocky hesitated, Would you give me just a minute? I forgot to do something.

Jason glanced at his watch and ordered, Make it quick. We shouldn’t be on the street after dark.

Rocky slid the pack from her shoulders to the ground. I’ll be two minutes, I promise. Then she disappeared into the building.

Rachael observed Jason scrutinizing the street and imagined him on guard duty in Iraq, defending the perimeter. His inspection appeared slow, methodical, and thorough. She startled from her daydream as Rocky approached.

Done. Rocky said. Rachael assisted her with the pack.

The soldier grunted, Let’s move out.

On the return, the trio rounded a corner when Rachael grasped Jason’s arm. Hold up. She peered up the street. They’re back.

Jason traced Rachael’s stare to the approaching red light. That’s twice tonight. He dropped sleeping bags and shrugged off the pack, They’re bold, then rummaged a side pocket, Rocky, can you shoot?

Rocky swung the pack from her shoulders and drew the Walther. I hit what I aim at.

Rachael slipped a small pistol under her belt.

Stay hidden. Jason crouched low. When you hear me fire, unload on the car. Be careful–don’t hit anyone.

Confused, Rocky crouched behind concrete slabs next to Rachael. Jason ducked low and scurried across the street. Rocky asked, He wants us to shoot at them, but not shoot them?

Rachael shrugged.

Who are they?

Renegades. They took refuge in the police station about a half mile up the street. They’re armed and roam the streets mostly at night, looking for lights.

Why would they look for lights?

Light means survivors. Survivors have supplies. They’ll steal everything we have and shoot anyone who tries to stop them.

How do you know they’re armed?

They have access to weapons in the police station, wouldn’t you be armed? As the flashing light neared, Rachael’s heart pounded. She rubbed sweaty palms against her pant leg. The car engine rumbled softly as the vehicle rolled near. Rachael drew the pistol and aimed.

Rocky clutched the Walther with both hands and directed the sight to the driver’s side door.

Jason fired.

The car screeched to a stop.

Rachael pulled the trigger sending a flurry of lead into the car. Rocky fired all eight shots in the clip.

Men screamed. The car reversed, careening up the street.

Gunfire stopped.

Rocky listened to the fading engine hum then exhaled, lowering her gun hand. The pistol quivered in her grip. Her knees trembled. She sat on a concrete slab, brushed hair from her eyes and gasped, That was intense!

Very.

Jason announced his approach. They won’t be back.

Rocky hissed. What the hell is all this about?

They’re no more than bullies. They know we’ll fight back and won’t risk coming down here again. Jason studied Rocky as she slid the pistol into the pack. You okay?

Yes. She shrugged. I’ve just never pulled the trigger on anyone before.

Yeah. The first time’s tough. Wish I could tell you it gets easier.

Under a fiery sunset, the trio shuffled along a dusty sidewalk toward the warehouse. Upon entering, Jason introduced Rocky to the survivors. Then Rocky followed Rachael and dropped her backpack in an isolated corner.

After unrolling bedrolls, Rocky assisted the CEO by pouring half a dozen packets of freeze-dried spaghetti and meatballs into the cast iron skillet. She added water and heated the pan over a gas-cook stove, then cut off the heat allowing the meal to steam.

Throughout dinner, Black held a wary eye toward the stockbroker. He had noticed the man ogle Rocky when he had introduced her.

After dinner, Rocky, Rachael, and Black slid into sleeping bags. Across the room, the stockbroker lurked while sipping from the cup. Rachael glanced sternly, settled into her sleeping bag, and muttered, Sleaze bag.

Rocky asked, Who?

The broker, the guy gives me the creeps.

Yes, I noticed too.

He knows I’d floor him. I picked up a skinning knife at the store. One stick and he’ll think better of messing with me.

Rocky fluffed the backpack for use as a pillow. I’ll help you keep an eye on him, Rachael. Then she laid her head down.

Rachael pulled the sleeping bag around her neck, and quietly said, You can call me Ray.

CHAPTER 2

Jason stirred and slowly opened his eyes to see Rocky roll a sleeping bag into a tight bundle. After examining her freshly washed face, he thought her more attractive than he had suspected. She had dressed in a black tank top. Jason focused on a twin diamond necklace nestled in her cleavage then sat up. You clean up pretty good.

Thanks. She feigned a smile. I needed a good washing.

What smells so good?

Judy is cooking breakfast.

Judy?

The CEO.

Oh. Through sleepy eyes, he noticed her makeup. Mascara and a trace of eye shadow highlighted large brown eyes. Unlike the woman he had met the previous night, she bore a refined appearance, despite the pink camouflage pants. Lipstick contrasted pearly white teeth. He suspected her near perfect smile was that of an upper class woman who never missed a dental appointment and likely bleached her teeth regularly. Makeup? he asked.

Rocky pulled the bag drawstring tight. A girl has to look her best for special occasions.

What’s the occasion?

You’re leaving today. She rose.

Jason studied her attractive figure before breaking the stare. Oh. He said absently.

Rocky noticed the stare. I’ll um… help Judy with breakfast.

It smells good, he nodded and noted a hint of perfume.

When Jason joined the group seated on mismatched chairs around a large table, he passed plates as each picked a portion.

The carpenter asked. When you heading out, Black?

Right away.

The CEO added, I still don’t like the idea of you going alone.

Rocky spoke, I’ve offered to go with him.

Judy cocked an eyebrow, Why volunteer for something so dangerous?

I live in Utah. I have two daughters and need to get back.

The CEO took in a forkful of eggs, chewed thoughtfully and then asked, What about it, Black?

She mentioned it.

Rocky interjected, He refused.

The CEO studied Rocky, then Jason. Jason… what’s your reasoning?

It’ll be tough. A lot of walking, scrounging for food, could be dangerous.

I run eight miles a day, Black. Rocky scoffed. I’d keep up. And I did all right shooting at the car, didn’t I?

The broker snickered, Take her, Black. A body like that would be mighty warm on a cold night.

Jason clenched his jaw, pushed from the table and stepped toward the broker. The CEO intercepted, pressing a hand against Jason’s chest. Gentleman, let’s keep this civil. Rocky glanced toward Rachael who grinned. Black glared at the broker and returned to his seat. I’m asking you to reconsider, Black. The CEO continued, placing a hand on the broker’s shoulder.

Rocky added, Black, you said yourself there’s safety in numbers.

The carpenter spoke, Two people can do things one can’t, Black. Might be a good idea.

I don’t know what I’ll run across. It’s no place for a woman.

The group fell silent when Rocky’s eyes widened, That is what this is about, isn’t it? Because I’m a woman?

Aw geez, Jason muttered, Here we go.

Yes, Rocky dropped her fork to the table. Here we go! She took a deep breath and locked eyes on him. Your thinking is archaic, Black. I’d expect more from a marine. She stressed the word, ‘marine.’

Easy. The CEO said. Let’s be rational.

Rocky sat back and glared defiantly at Black.

The CEO continued, Jason… this should be a group decision. Would you mind if we put this to a vote?

Jason shrugged, It’s a group decision.

Hold on, The plumber interjected, We can’t force him to take anyone he doesn’t want to.

True. The police officer agreed. I’m with Black. Man or woman, it’s not safe.

The stockbroker chimed in, Who’s to say he wouldn’t just leave her once they’re gone?

Rocky raised a hand and asked, Could I say something? The group quieted. "Before we vote, I’d like to plead my case. Look, Black, obviously we don’t agree on some things and I accept that. I need to go west, with or without you. I will get to my daughters.

You know as well as anyone, two people stand a better chance of making the trip than one. I’m not afraid you’ll leave me stranded, a marine does whatever it takes. Am I right?

Jason nodded, Yes, ma’am.

I’m not a ma’am. Your mission is to find help for the group. Is that right?

Yes.

I’ll help, Black, with whatever it takes–if the group decides. She looked to the survivors and leaned back in the chair. That’s all I have. Thank you.

The CEO rose. Does anyone have anything to add? The group collectively shook heads. Jason?

No. He grumbled. Let’s vote.

All in favor of Rocky accompanying Jason raise your hand please?

Jason noticed Rachael raise a hand along with several others. Rachael shrugged, Sorry, Black. A mama should be with her girls.

Rocky muttered, Thanks, Ray.

The broker lifted a hand and sneered.

The CEO silently counted votes and then asked. All opposed? Jason, the carpenter, and firefighter each raised a hand. The group has decided Rocky will accompany Mr. Black. Thank you, everyone.

Rocky gauged the marine’s reaction when he rose coolly and left the table to gather his things. Thanks all, she said, collecting empty dishes from the table.

With breakfast dishes cleared, Rocky dumped contents of her backpack on the floor.

Jason asked, What are you doing? We need to get moving.

Packing neatly, Rocky answered, folding a pair of jeans, I can’t stand everything just crammed inside.

Jason groaned and organized side pockets of his pack.

The carpenter watched from nearby when Rocky finally drew drawstrings tight. You got what you need?

"Yes, I think so. That outdoor store has a lot of stuff. For the most part, it’s untouched. You might get over when you