The Virulent Chronicles Box Set by Shelbi Wescott

Author:Shelbi Wescott [Wescott, Shelbi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780615766171
Publisher: Arthur Press
Published: 2019-03-31T22:00:00+00:00

The Trotter farm looked exactly as Darla remembered it. The generator they used for the fan still sat in the middle of the yard; the barn remained open and the house still looked shut up and empty. The only difference was that the pick-up truck and the white trailer now sat out front—a beacon for the four survivors.

“Didn’t he think we’d notice a truck and utility trailer on our street?” Joey asked as they gathered behind the front shrubs.

“But we didn’t notice it on our street,” replied Ainsley.

Spencer maneuvered himself to the front. “All right, so we find a back door. Or head in through the garage. Or do we split up?” He craned his neck to watch the house. “We can’t assume he’s not armed.”

“We don’t split up. We stay together. Follow me,” Darla instructed and she motioned for the group to scamper across the yard, ducking and making a beeline toward the trailer. When they reached it, Ainsley was winded. She shot Darla a look.

“What? It’s a large yard.”

“Stay here,” Darla said and after a quick scan, she walked to the trailer and threw the door open. Inside was bare. All the spoils of war had already been carted inside. Shoved to the side in the now-empty space was an overturned wheelbarrow with mud caked to the wheels. Darla shut the doors and joined the clan. “We’ll have to load everything back up.”

“We should take everything he raided,” Joey added with a small bounce. “Leave him hungry.” He looked at everyone in eager anticipation.

Darla shook her head. “He’s entitled to the stuff he found fair and square. I can’t imagine if he’s been hitting up the same houses we already looted that he’d have much of anything. And he’s about to lose his goldmine.”

Joey grumbled, “I don’t know why you’re being so civil. This guy stole from us. You goin’ soft on us?”

“My job is to get our food back, not to start some war—”

“Hey guys,” Ainsley interrupted in a lazy drawl.

Spencer moved toward the front of the truck, his gun drawn. He peered toward the open garage. “A generator? Oh, hell yes. We’re taking the generator as payment for this guy being a pain in the ass.”

“Um, guys—”Ainsley said again without urgency.

“Spit it out, Ains,” Darla said while keeping her eyes trained on the porch.

“Yeah, um, the dude we’re looking for is just chilling over there,” she lifted her hand and pointed to a corner of the yard.

The man sat in a lawn chair, sunglasses on, holding a beer can. He didn’t move or wave, but they could see the steady rise and fall of his chest. His head was titled to the side and his cheek flat against his shoulder.

“I’m pretty sure he’s asleep,” she added and then dropped her arm, with her unloaded gun, by her side.

Darla grumbled and took off marching and as she neared the chair, it became clear that Ainsley’s prediction was true. There the thief sat, sheltered from view initially by

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