America's Last Storm: A Post Apocalyptic Survival Novel by Alice Longo

Author:Alice Longo [Longo, Alice]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2023-05-16T16:00:00+00:00

It was dusk when they had the next contact with their attackers. They had caught occasional glimpses of them as they dashed across the car park, looking for better positions from which to launch an attack. The fact that they delayed so long in doing so told the men in the store that what their enemy hoped to do wasn't going to be easy. Finally, a voice rang out from the rapidly advancing darkness.

"You men in there. We have you outgunned and outnumbered. All we want is the food, so if you lay down your weapons and get back into your truck, we'll let you go. Killing you brings us nothing."

By way of an answer, Coyle fired two slugs in the direction the voice was coming from. They were met by another hail of bullets, but the men who had them holed up weren't daring enough to move toward their bizarre fortress. It was obvious to both sides that this was going to turn into a waiting game.

Coyle ducked back into the store, grabbed another can of chili, and tore it open. He passed it among his crew and as, soon as it was emptily, hurled the can into the parking lot where it bounced noisily.

"Mighty good chili," he shouted. "Think I might follow that with a few beers. Any of you boys out there care to join us?"

His crew chuckle,d and soon more empty cans were gliding through the air. Swampy burped loudly enough to be heard back in Charleston, and that elicited a roar of laughter from the crew followed by a burst of fire from their besiegers.

"Coyle," whispered Bodie when there was a lull in the heckling. "Willard's gone."

There was silence from around the store, though Coyle suspected that he heard a slight snort coming from where he had last seen Peak.

The news of their comrade's death sobered the crew, and they remained quiet after that. They settled in and prepared for a long night. Coyle considered their position and, though he thought that his crew would have a more comfortable night than their assailants would, he worried that come first light they would face an attack that would eventually see them being overrun. They held the best position but their ammunition supplies were nearly exhausted. He cursed himself for not having taken more weapons and ammunition when they had been in the gun shop. The truth of the matter was, he had been so anxious to get out of that underground shooting range that he hadn't even thought of it. It looked like it would be a mistake for which he would pay dearly in the morning.

It was after midnight and the crew was taking turns keeping watch and sleeping. Coyle had just nodded off when Swampy shook his shoulder.

"Beech," he said quietly. "The wind is picking up. I think we are about to get hit by another hurricane."

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