The Last Uprising (Defectors Trilogy) by Tarah Benner

Author:Tarah Benner [Benner, Tarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-06-10T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Over the next few days, we fell into a rhythm at the farm. With the Hoopers’ supplies, we finally had enough to eat, and surviving the horde’s attack gave us a new urgency to fortify our defenses.

Roman and Marcus found some lumber on an abandoned farm, and Greyson and Amory took it upon themselves to design the new barn we would build where the old one had stood.

Neither of them knew anything about construction, but we didn’t have much of a choice. The plans Greyson had sketched showed a building with a larger loft to double the available space for people and a smaller annex to shelter livestock.

A week after the carrier attack, we were already attempting to frame the barn, sweating in the unseasonably intense heat.

I tensed when I heard the crunch of gravel that signaled an approaching vehicle, and Amory stiffened automatically. I found my rifle, and the others fanned out around me, weapons in hand.

The seconds slowed as we waited for the dust to clear, and the 4Runner appeared, followed by a beat-up Ford pickup truck.

At the sight of Godfrey and Marcus leading the caravan, I lowered my rifle slightly but continued to inch toward the newcomers in the truck.

“Easy now,” Godfrey grumbled as he got out of the vehicle. “They come in peace.”

So Godfrey had been recruiting. He’d brought Marcus along because he knew all the families in the area that were in hiding.

Piled in the truck were three stocky-looking men in dirty jeans and worn-out T-shirts. They got out, and I watched their scuffed boots shuffle over to where we all stood. Something about their rugged look and beefy frames reminded me of the moonshiners, but at the sight of our shaky construction, they let out a collective rumble of warm laughter that put me immediately at ease.

“Gang, meet the Holts.”

The man closest to me removed his sun-faded baseball cap and held out a calloused hand. “Name’s Ray Holt, and this is my brother Bobby.” He pointed to the shortest man. “That’s Matt, our cousin. We’re here to help.”

“Haven Allis,” I said, taking the man’s hand. It was rough and warm — a hard grip built from honest work.

“What brings you here?” asked Amory, materializing at my elbow.

“We heard ol’ Ida’s fighting back. We want to be of service.” Ray turned back to me. “Plus Marcus here told us how y’all fought off a whole mess of carriers the other day.”

“We didn’t have much of a choice,” I said grimly, remembering Logan’s screams.

“Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

“Out east,” I said. “The hordes near Sector X were much bigger.”

“That’s where y’all come from?”

I nodded, not wanting to share our whole life stories with these people. It didn’t matter if we were all really from Missouri.

“Damn,” said another of the men. “You on the run or something?”

“Something like that,” said Amory, an edge to his voice.

Maybe I imagined the arch of his brow or the challenge in his gaze, but he looked as though he were trying to shield me from this man, which I thought was cute.

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