Final Darkness - The Last Light Book 8: (A Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Survival Series) by Justin Bell & Mike Kraus

Author:Justin Bell & Mike Kraus [Bell, Justin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Muonic Press Inc
Published: 2019-12-12T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

There was a light snow falling as the truck pulled into the driveway of the Buchanan’s house and parked in front of the closed garage. Sitting in the passenger seat, Mike glared out of the window, looking at the familiar house, which now looked wholly and completely unfamiliar.

Where there had been a wall to the right of the front door there was now a gaping, ragged hole, a cavern of shorn wood and shredded plaster, as if something had burst out from within and sprayed house guts all over the front yard. Metal bracings where solar panels used to be attached were bent or broken, the panels nowhere to be seen.

If there was any good news to be had, it was that the slicks who had been scattered about the Parker property weren’t immediately visible here, it was just the broken house and the yard, a soft dusting of snow coating the wrecked remains of the house’s wall. “Unbelievable,” Mike whispered. “What happened here?”

“Same thing that’s happening everywhere else, I’d guess,” Troy said, shaking his head.

Mike slowly pushed open the door and stepped out of the truck into the snow, drawing another deep, heavy sigh and moving toward the blown open side of the house, his rifle held by the handle in a gloved hand. He walked slow and careful now, no longer with the rushed sense of urgency that he’d had a couple of hours ago, almost as if he were afraid of what he might find should he look much closer.

Ruth and Elias hopped down out of the back of the truck and joined Troy as he exited, following Mike toward the house, as he stepped up into the torn open section of wall which had exposed the inside of the home to the elements.

Mike got his bearings a bit better once he was inside, noticing that he was in the kitchen, which was an absolute wreck of smashed, ruined, and burned out appliances, the stove completely gone, the refrigerator thrown several feet away, its door open, contents spilled out onto the living room floor.

Within the living room itself there was a tipped over couch and a scattering of other items and Mike walked that way. As he did, he squinted at the wall he was passing and stepped closer to it, running his fingers along its smooth surface. Several puckered holes where there, small punches in the sheet rock.

“Bullet holes,” he said quietly.

“Say what?” Troy asked.

Mike turned toward him, pointing to what he was referring to.

“Bullet holes. In the sheet rock. There was a gun fight here before things went boom.”

“Not good,” Troy replied. “Not good for the bad guys,” Mike replied. “If anyone was going up against Mary Beth, they got the short end of that stick. That girl can shoot.”

“So, you think they were here?” Troy asked.

Mike shrugged.

“No real way of knowing at this point—” his voice choked off as he investigated the hallway beyond the kitchen and saw something laying on the floor. Moving into the hall he bent low and looked at the softball bat resting at an angle in the hallway.

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