Dark Days of the After: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller by Ryan Schow

Author:Ryan Schow [Schow, Ryan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: River City Publishing
Published: 2019-12-01T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

The next morning Logan woke up to a still undressed, still asleep Kim. Studying her for a moment or two before getting up, he wondered so many things about her. He wondered about the scars on her body, and the bruising he saw around her arms and on her ribs.

Was this from the Krav sessions, or something darker?

Over the last decade, the horrors of life in America only deepened before leading them into the oppression of the Chicom occupation. Their freedoms didn’t merely erode, they were snatched up wholesale with no remorse, no explanation, not even a PR rollout to ease the masses into such broad and sweeping changes. If this wouldn’t have happened, would there even be people like Kim? Or Skylar, who had a similar roadmap of abuse on her body?

Would there be people like me?

He crawled out of bed, made some lousy coffee, coffee that was more a fuel source than an enjoyable morning beverage.

He imagined the strong smell would wake her, but Kim continued to sleep soundly. He went into the bathroom, shaved his head, washed his armpits and crotch, conserving on both water and time.

Meanwhile, he was lost in the wonder of the message Skylar left. Of course, he couldn’t think of the message without also worrying about her. Was she even alive? What was she being put through? Would she eventually break and lead the Chicoms there?

Treason was an immediate death sentence carried out at will. He was no one important enough to spare, or to really even pause on. Two bullets, it was all done.

That’s how they killed you.

Clearing his mind, he took a fresh cup of coffee to Kim, who was just waking up.

Sitting up in bed, no sense of modesty—or perhaps just a sexual freedom he never experienced with Skylar—she sipped her coffee, her eyes low, studying the brew.

“Are you staring at my boobs?” she asked, her voice groggy, her hair a bit of a mess, but in a way he found attractive.

“Intently,” he said with a grin, even though he wasn’t. He was actually looking at all that curly black hair. When she glanced up and saw where he was looking, she said, “I look ugly in the morning. I was hoping you were staring at my breasts.”

“If that makes you feel better, I suppose I could pacify you,” he said.

“It would,” she said without humor.

“How’d you sleep?”

“Like the dead,” she said, yawning. “This coffee is terrible.”

“I know.”

“Then why’d you bring it to me?”

“Because I feel appreciative,” he said truthfully.

She took another sip and said, “It’s starting to taste better.” Looking at him over the rim of the cup, she said, “Why don’t you look tired?”

“You met me tired,” he responded. “You’ve never actually seen me looking rested.”

“What are you doing today?” she asked.

“I have to run down that lead Skylar gave me,” he said, dispassionate.

“Are you worried about her?”

It turned out there was a very thin veil between what he was trying to project and what he actually felt.

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