SpaceMan: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (The SpaceMan Chronicles Book 1) by Tom Abrahams

Author:Tom Abrahams [Abrahams, Tom]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Piton Press LLC
Published: 2016-11-22T08:00:00+00:00

SATURDAY, JANUARY 25, 2020, 11:01 AM CST

CLEAR LAKE, TEXAS

The household, as it now stood, was gathered around the kitchen’s granite island. Betty and Brian were seated on barstools; Reggie, Lana, Candace, and Marie were standing; Marie was leaning on her elbows, her cheeks smushed in her hands. Reggie was going through the lists of supplies, suggesting how they should ration food and water.

Jackie wasn’t listening to the conversation. She was thinking about her son, Chris. She’d convinced herself he was safe. He was camping in a familiar place; he was with Rick Walsh, a capable man. Most importantly, he was earthbound.

The more she thought about him, though, the more an uneasy ache settled in her gut. After hearing others complain about their cars, she’d tried to start hers. It was dead.

If her car was fried and others in the neighborhood were too, how was Rick going to get Chris home? Were they stuck at the park with only a couple of days’ worth of food?

She took a deep breath and tried to clear her mind. She couldn’t be the leader she needed to be if she was focused on what she couldn’t control.

“Jackie,” said Reggie, waving his hand in front of her face. “Jackie?”

She blinked back to attention. “Sorry. I was just thinking.”

“We need to talk about self-defense,” Reggie said. “What is our plan?”

Betty grabbed hold of the conversation. “If we’re talking about guns, I’m not comfortable with that. It’s an accident waiting to happen. I’ve never been a fan of guns. Nope.” She slammed her hands flat on the granite.

Brian was rocking in his seat. His arms were folded and he was picking at the dry skin on his elbows.

Jackie sighed. “I think we are talking about guns, Betty,” she said. “I have my Concealed Handgun License. I’ve got a couple of handguns in the house. Reggie?”

“I’ve got a rifle and a revolver. They’re in your garage, along with the ammo.”

Betty pushed herself to her feet. The barstool squeaked along the floor as she stood. “I’m not okay with this. I don’t like the idea of guns in the house. Not with my son here.”

Jackie bit the inside of her cheek. “I understand your concer—”

“Do you?” Betty asked, her words dripping with derision. She planted her hands on her hips, her brows arched high above her eyes. “Do you really ‘understand my concerns’?” She made air quotes with her hands.

Jackie clamped her teeth onto the other side of her cheek. There was no point in poking the bear yet.

Betty’s face reddened. “You can’t understand my concerns, Jackie,” she said, her arms flailing. “You don’t have a child like Brian. You aren’t raising your kids alone. You didn’t lose your house in a fire last night. You still have your granite countertops and stainless steel refrigerator. You still have window treatments and area rugs. You can’t understand!”

Brian’s rocking had intensified. “Six days, eight hours,” he chanted, his eyes closed. “Six days, eight hours. Six days, eight hours.”

Her anger immediately softened and Betty placed her hand on Brian’s back.

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