Seven Bowls: A Post-Apocalyptic Tale of the End Times (The Days of Lot Book 3) by Mark Goodwin

Author:Mark Goodwin [Goodwin, Mark]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-10-04T00:00:00+00:00

The squad members took turns sleeping and keeping watch for the twenty-four-hour period following the assault on the Maggie Valley outpost. It worked out well since the trailer was a very modestly sized two-bedroom, one-bath mobile home.

Prairie, however, did not participate in the rotation. Racked by grief, she was in no condition to stand guard. Likewise, Wynter was unable to take part in the sentry duties because of her lack of energy after having the Global Order parasites feeding on her blood.

Prairie mourned, Wynter slept, and the others watched.

The following evening, Mason gently shook Wynter, who was sleeping soundly on the living room sofa.

She turned toward him. Her swollen eyes opened only slightly. Mason forced a smile. “Wake up, sweetheart.”

She opened her eyes fully, looked around the room, seemed to remember where she was, seemed comforted by the fact that she was safe—or at least safer than she had been, and then closed her eyes again.

Mason spoke softly. “You need to eat something, drink some water. Your body needs to recuperate. It can’t do that without food and water. Come on. Sit up for me. You can go right back to sleep.”

She nodded ever so slightly and sat up. Mason handed her a canteen. She drank. He handed her one of the cornbread pancakes Ceeny had made before they left. “It’s a little stale, but it’s still good. We’ll make you a big dinner when we get home.”

She took the pancake and bit into it. She smiled. “It tastes like home.” She took a drink of water and lost her happy expression. “Ceeny lost both of her sons.”

Mason held her hand but said nothing.

“She doesn’t even know,” Wynter said.

Mason frowned, knowing the task of delivering the news would fall to him. “You and Prairie are still her daughters-in-law.”

Wynter took another bite and washed it down. “Could you imagine someone saying that to you about Val and Luca if it had been me and Prairie that died?”

Mason tightened his jaw, perturbed at his own ignorance. He could not imagine such a thing—nor would he allow himself to do so. But if he could, he understood what a poor comfort such a statement would be. “Can you eat another pancake?”

She shook her head and lay back down on the sofa.

Mason screwed the cap back on the canteen and took her hand. “What about…” He hesitated.

She closed her eyes. “About what?”

Mason took a deep breath. “Val.”

“He’s dead. He was a healthy match for someone inside the Global Order. They took him to be an organ donor. That’s all I know.”

Mason felt terrible for Val, felt terrible for Wynter. “I mean—if you need to mourn, let it out. Don’t keep it bottled up.”

“They took him two weeks ago. I’ve been mourning.” She opened her tired eyes once more and gave a bittersweet smile. “Plus, I thought I might never see you and Prairie again. So, as dire as my situation may seem, it’s greatly improved since you came to get me.”

Mason swallowed the knot

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