Blackout (Book 2) by Clarke Alexandria

Author:Clarke, Alexandria [Clarke, Alexandria]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Post-Apocalyptic | EMP | Survival
Published: 2017-12-04T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

Getting back into the church was not a pleasant experience. George watched my every step, often grabbing me by the scruff of the neck or the back of my jacket to remind me that he was the one in control here. If the circumstances were different—if Dad weren’t still inside the church—I would have figured out a way to knock George unconscious for his rough touch. As it was, I could only spit petty insults at my new bodyguards as they hauled me back to Legacy territory.

“Where’s Marco?” Jeff asked when we reached the bottom of the bell tower. “He’s usually waiting for us here.”

George shook me by the collar of my coat. “Well? Answer the question!”

“How should I know, you bilge rat?” I said. “He wasn’t here when I left to follow you morons.”

George tightened his fingers around my throat. “Marco’s always here. Tell me where he is before I strangle you right here and leave you in your father’s bed for him to wake up next to in the morning.”

“Fine,” I gasped, eyes watering as they bulged out of my head. George released me, and I massaged my bruised throat. “We set off a diversion in the courtyard. He’s probably out there cleaning it all up.”

George hauled me down the corridor. Before we could reach the courtyard, Marco himself came jogging in from outside.

“George!” he said, his eyes darting from the leader of the salvage group to me at their center. “What on earth? You should still be outside! Why do you have the girl with you?”

George kicked me down and deposited me at Marco’s feet. “She followed us. Saw what we were doing.”

“Oh, dear.”

“You’re full of shit,” I said to Marco, forcing my aching legs to stand. “You preach all this crap about how the Legacies are the chosen ones, and then you send your men out there to kill innocent people and steal their supplies. Tell me, Marco, what makes those people matter less than the ones you’ve collected here?”

I didn’t bother to keep my voice level. It rose and wavered, drawing the sleeping Legacies from their rooms for the second time that night. My father emerged from his bedroom as if he had been sleeping there all this time.

“What’s going on?” he said, stepping between me and Marco. “What have you done to my daughter?”

“Nothing yet,” George said. “But she broke the rules. That means she has to be punished.”

I sidestepped my father to confront Marco again. “I want an answer, Coats. Why save some and condemn others? What criteria do you judge your survivors on?”

“You’re delusional,” Marco said calmly. “We are the only ones left. We are lucky to have—”

“Luck has nothing to do with it,” I replied. “I watched your men go out and kill someone over a few cans of food. Do the rest of the Legacies know how you’re feeding them?”

From the expressions on the faces that lined the hallway, I assumed that the answer was no. Marco’s serene smile slipped.

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