The Hope We Keep: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller (Lost Light Book 3) by Kyla Stone

Author:Kyla Stone [Stone, Kyla]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Paper Moon Press
Published: 2023-04-30T16:00:00+00:00

39

ELI POPE

DAY NINETY-ONE

By the time Eli reached the warehouse, it was two a.m. Ragged ribbons of clouds drifted across the moon like burial shrouds. There was no movement, no sound but for the bugs, the swish of weeds against his thighs, the sigh of a soft breeze through the pine needles.

On high alert, he limped toward the building but remained within the tree line.

The warehouse had been abandoned for a couple of decades. Graffiti scrawled across the concrete exterior, vines crawled up the walls and snaked over the metal roof, and trash and debris were scattered everywhere. The upper windows were shattered, the lower windows boarded up.

He hesitated behind a pine tree, keeping the trunk between him and twenty yards of open pavement. His gaze swept the milky shadows, pulse quickening as he caught a glint on top of the warehouse roof: a sniper.

His hand slid to his combat knife. Little good that would do in a firefight.

“This is Alpha One,” he whispered into his headset. He wasn’t sure if it would still work. “Anybody alive in there?”

A crackle of static, and then Moreno’s voice said, “Guess you’re not dead, Alpha One. That’s a pity. We had a bet going for the last five gallons of gasoline.”

“Too bad you lost. That our guy on overwatch on the roof?”

“Yours truly,” Hart said. “I don’t see you anywhere.”

“That’s the point.” They’d set up a defensive perimeter as he’d instructed. They were learning. “You gonna let me in or what?”

“Hart’s got you covered,” Moreno said. “Come on into the Hilton and make yourself at home. Hope you brought your best suit. The dining room is black tie only.”

“Damn. My tux drowned in the river.”

Eli waded through waist-high weeds; brambles snagged his clothes and scratched at his exposed skin. Ahead of him, the parking lot zigzagged with cracks as he made his way around to the rear entrance.

The rusted steel door hung on squeaky hinges, a cement block holding it closed, the padlock long busted. A shuffling sound came from behind the door, and then Jackson shoved the door open enough for Eli to slide through.

Jackson moved aside and gestured for Eli to enter, closed the door behind him, and shoved the cement block back into place. He carried a red-filmed flashlight low in his hand, so as not to draw undue attention.

Relief welled through him. He hadn’t realized how strongly he’d feared Jackson hadn’t survived until he laid eyes on his old friend’s grim, sooty face. He resisted the bizarre urge to hug him.

Instead, he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Guess your ugly mug made it, too.”

Alexis stood behind the door, guarding the entrance. She saluted Eli. “Good to see you, sir. We were starting to get worried.”

“So was I. And I’m no sir.”

Jackson scanned his injuries with concern. “You’re hurt.”

“A couple of scratches.”

Alexis frowned. “Is that Ranger-speak for on your deathbed?”

“Something like that.”

“We’ve been waiting for three hours. We thought—” Jackson didn’t finish what he’d thought, but his dread and worry were written across his face.

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