Prepper: Book 3 (PREPPER: A GRID-DOWN POST-APOCALYPTICDYSTOPIAN SURVIVAL SERIES) by Tom Abrahams

Author:Tom Abrahams [Abrahams, Tom]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Piton Press LLC
Published: 2024-01-30T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

THE WOODLANDS, TEXAS

GRID DOWN, DAY TEN

The rain had slowed to a sprinkle, and the wind was reduced to weak gusts. Debris littered the street, and pieces from a large oak were strewn across Jack’s driveway. The air was thick, and the chill of the rain had given way to a soupy humidity. It would be cloudless and warm when the sun broke, but for now, the hurricane’s revenant haunted the neighborhood.

He stood on the front porch. The Snake Slayer was in his hip pocket, and he held the Mossberg pump action in both hands. Jack took measured deep breaths, trying to calm his nerves and slow his rapid pulse. He needed his wits about him.

“I can do this,” Betty said. “Maybe he’ll respond better to a woman.”

She was less amped than he at the moment. After her initial disbelief dissolved in anger, and he had worked to restrain her from sprinting across the street, she had found a resolute calm.

“I thought about that,” Jack said, “but we risk him taking you hostage too. We don’t know what trap he’s set over there.”

“You’re sure it’s Blair?” she asked, wiping damp strands of hair off her forehead. “If it’s Blair, I’m going to—”

“Who else would it be?”

“The new people?”

“I don’t think so. They would have just attacked us.”

“Would they?”

“You’re right. I have no clue. But I am not sending you over there alone.”

“What if we go together?”

“We can’t leave the kids alone. Plus, they’re all asleep now. What happens when they wake up and you’re not there?”

“I should go,” she said, anger flashing again. “I should rip that mother—”

“We can’t have you going over there half-cocked, Betty. I know he’s your baby, but we have to be smart about this.”

“Going there armed with a Mossberg is the smart move?”

“I’m going over there to negotiate. The Mossberg is only for defense. He needs to see I’m armed. It gives me some leverage.”

Betty started from the porch. Jack freed one hand from the shotgun and grabbed her arm. It was stronger than he had intended, and she pulled away. He let go almost as fast as he had tightened his grip.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just—”

Betty rubbed her arm and gestured across the street. “I should go, Jack. I’m his mother.”

He and his wife locked eyes. It was then he saw her expression betray her fear. She might seem calm, but she was as frightened as he was about their son’s safety.

“Bring my boy back,” she said, swallowing her emotion. “Both of you come back.”

“I will.”

Betty stood on the porch as Jack stepped into the drizzle. Mist drifted on the breeze gentle waves carried on currents of air. He stopped in the driveway in front of a large splintered piece of wood and glanced back at her. Her thin figure seemed smaller somehow, framed against the open door of the house.

Jack considered it a miracle he had kept her from attacking the Stanleys’ house with a battering ram. She was a reasonable person, but when it came to her children, Betty was a grizzly.

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