Dark Horizon (Sky Fall Book 6) by Logan Keys

Author:Logan Keys [Keys, Logan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-11-23T16:00:00+00:00

7

Within miles of Fort Polk, Louisiana

The toxic rain finally quit in the middle of the day. Kentucky took three tries to wake Sierra where she lay. She finally sat up, coughing, then coughing some more. When her eyes opened, they were so bloodshot that his heart beat rapidly in his chest.

“How….how far?” she asked, her head lolling forward on her neck.

“Two hours of walking at a good pace,” Kentucky said, and she gave him a sad smile.

“That all?”

He tried to smile back but it faltered.

Sierra was done for. Her body was fighting the infection, it had nothing left to give towards her fight against the apocalypse. What could he do?

He could panic.

That’s what he could do.

He laid her back down and put the balled-up tarp behind her head. “Wait here. I’ll be back.”

She tried to argue but he was already walking away, and his mind was racing through his options.

One: he’d go to the base and return. Too risky. Anyone could come by.

Two: he could try the nearby houses for meds.

Also risky but a better option. They were so close to the base. So close.

He cursed their luck.

Kentucky looked for a side road that might lead towards a home somewhere deep in the burned-up trees. He spotted some gravel and started walking up the incline out of the wet debris-filled street.

The private drive wound around the woods where most of the trees were shattered from what looked like errant lightning. Their stumps were tall spikes out of the ground. When he got to the house, he paused.

Once upon a time, this had been a grand house—more like a haunted mansion. Long before the end of the world, the moss had grown across the white walls and the vines had climbed up to the roof.

The deck wrapped all the way around. Despite the trees that looked like someone had thrown a cosmic bowling ball through them, the house seemed untouched. But not by time.

This was an old southern house, one who’d lived through the fifties and sixties, and passed hands many times. There had once been a weeping willow in the yard, but now, the giant tree was on its side, cast away carelessly, leaving the tendrils of its branches strewn down the pathway like green hair.

When Kentucky looked at the house too long, craning his neck back to see the pitched roof and second story, he felt vertigo.

The sky was so dark that the white stuck out of the dark earth like bone.

He had a foreboding that could not be shook, but he approached, deciding that calling out was the best method of not getting shot. “Hello?”

No answer.

“Anyone home?”

Nothing but the wind.

Kentucky approached the large porch, skipping the missing steps, and his footsteps cross the deck might as well have been gunshots.

The front door was shut tightly, and he knocked, waited, then turned the knob.

With the sound of a sigh and recently oiled hinges, the door swung open. He was pleasantly surprised that for the darkness, the house smelled sweet, like apple blossom mixed with cinnamon.

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