The Half-Life Empire: An Alien Apocalypse Novel by Shami Stovall

Author:Shami Stovall [Stovall, Shami]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Podium Publishing
Published: 2023-10-16T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY

You could stay here,” Dr. Claire said. “I’ve asked Bishop to stay for years, but he always denies me. I thought he left because that’s what young men do sometimes, but maybe he’ll stay if you and Chelsy need someone to watch over you while you get settled.”

“Thank you, but I have something to do first.”

I stood in her clinic room, admiring the pre-bomb medical instruments.

The thought of living in Richfield enticed me, and if things had been different, I might’ve taken her up on her offer. Even in my wildest fantasies—the ones where I made it to the BC Oasis and lived a quiet life in an underground greenhouse—I had been alone, thinking the outside world was nothing but blackness and evil. Imagining a community of people striving together to make things bright and wonderful inspired me more than my previous selfish desire to leave everything behind.

“Where is Crouton?” I asked as I picked up an otoscope.

“She’s with the Lopez family.”

She had been there all day, and it was almost time to go.

Bishop had loaded up his truck with offerings for the rail gang and gone to drop them off at the designated place. Little did the gangsters know, it was rigged to set off the gas grenades when opened. I couldn’t be sure it would get them all.

It was a risk—one the citizens of Richfield agreed was worth the chance. If the surviving rail gang became upset, they could try to retaliate against the town. Then again, they could decide the town wasn’t worth the effort and move on to easier targets.

My hopes sat squarely in the “wouldn’t it be nice if they all died” camp.

I set the otoscope down.

“How’s the brace?” Dr. Claire asked.

“Fine, thank you.”

The brace she had given me, mostly bronze and leather, secured my knee and hip. It made it difficult to move them around, but that kept the random pain to a minimum. Someone from the town had also given me a cane—not a crook cane, like for a shepherd or the elderly—but straight with a knob handle, and something much fancier than I ever imagined owning.

The woman said the cane was made of black onyx and ebony, which worked out as neither glittered like gold or silver, but up close it did have a nice sheen. It was in my family for years, she had said when she handed it over. Even before the Forever Winter.

They wanted to thank me for the battery, and no matter how many times I said it was unnecessary, the citizens had insisted on giving us supplies and clothing.

“You should take this duster coat,” Dr. Claire said.

My old jacket did have more bloodstains than a birthing bed, but I still disliked taking from the town. It was hard to articulate—since I had always imagined living a hermit lifestyle away from everyone—but I wanted the town to thrive. I wanted them to have everything they needed. I wanted the quaint homes of families and craftsmen to outshine the viciousness of the wasteland.

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