Best Laid Plans: An EMP Post-Apocalyptic Survival Series (The Crusader Book 1) by Tom Abrahams

Author:Tom Abrahams [Abrahams, Tom]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Piton Press LLC
Published: 2021-11-15T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

D-DAY + 4 YEARS, 3 MONTHS, 1 DAY

TEXAS-NEW MEXICO BORDER

Beck traced his finger along a worn map of what had once been the United States. He had it folded in half on a concrete picnic table at a dilapidated highway rest stop. Gabe leaned on the table across from him.

“It’s been four years, Beck. How long are you going to keep looking for Millie? When are we going to find a safe spot to settle down?”

Beck eyed Gabe without lifting his head. “How many times are we going to have this conversation? You’re not chained to me. If you’re tired of looking, head in your own direction.”

“That’s not what I mean, brother. I’m with you. But—”

“But what?”

Gabe motioned to the map. “How many dead ends? How many false leads? How many times are we going to crisscross what’s left of this country, looking for her?”

“As many times as it takes. We have a good lead right now. That lady in Amarillo said she saw a woman that looked like she could be Millie. Said she was heading west. Albuquerque or Santa Fe. That’s where we’re heading.”

“The man before that said he saw her in Amarillo. And Fort Worth and Shreveport and Little Rock. There was the debacle in St. Louis. Remember? The shoot-out because of a bad lead? That was worse than the gunfight in Little Rock, and I thought nothing could be worse than Little Rock. I feel like the only thing we haven’t faced is cannibals. It’s endless.”

“Cannibals don’t exist. It’s a rumor.”

“It’s a rumor we keep hearing.”

“Okay, but if people had run-ins with cannibals, I don’t think they’d be around to tell us they had a run in with cannibals.”

Gabe shrugged. “Fair enough. But you get my point. We chase a lot of bad leads. We meet a lot of bad people. Like Little Rock. Like St. Louis.”

“It wasn’t a bad lead. It was just…” He searched for the right turn of phrase, the semantics. “It was just a bad situation.”

“We killed a man in front of his wife. For what?”

“He was a bad dude, Gabe. He was a thief and a murderer and—”

Gabe waved him off. “That’s beside the point.”

“It’s all the point. Are you saying you’ve given up on finding Millie or Goose? That it’s pointless?”

Gabe’s expression changed from exasperation to pity. Beck hated that look, the one that told him he was naïve.

“That’s not what I mean. She’s out there, brother. I feel it.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I want some semblance of a life. I want to wake up in the same place day after day, next to a woman who loves me. I want community.”

This was a lot to process. Even if Beck had sensed it coming, which he had, he wasn’t ready for his best and only true friend to leave the mission before its conclusion. He dropped his gaze to the map and tapped his finger along a frayed crease. Gabe sighed, nodded, and took a swig of water from his bottle.

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