The Cascade Preppers: A Post Apocalyptic Survival Thriller (Graham's Resolution Book 2) by A. R. Shaw

Author:A. R. Shaw [Shaw, A. R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mast Hawk Media
Published: 2014-06-07T22:00:00+00:00

20 Marcy Moves

Marcy closed the guys inside the wretched house. Dawn came in a mist of blue with everything in sight frozen. The evergreen trees loomed like dark imposters. Though the snow had left the ground piled high in drifts; she could barely make out the lead line. After carefully descending the slick and rickety porch steps, she ran out the long driveway to the Scout, careful not to slip on exposed ice; the last thing she wanted to do was to injure herself and be of no help to the men.

Though the whiteout had dissipated, snow still swirled with sharp gusts of wind, stinging her exposed, tear-streaked cheeks. She began to run faster along the rope line left on the ground until she spotted another rifle laying half buried under crusted snow.

After picking up the gun, she eyed the spotlight poking through the snow farther ahead. Either the two guys had managed to throw the gun and light when they were attacked, or the woman had seen no need for them or had missed them altogether. The visibility then had been nil.

Marcy tried to push the terrible memories out of her vision, but they returned in flashes. A shot in the dark. A mad woman astride Sam. A butcher knife raised high. Her own finger pressing the trigger. The blast of sound when her weapon fired. The blood that splattered against Sam. I killed her. I killed her. Forever, the mad woman would remain in her mind, branded as the one I killed.

Graham’s “no regret” rules were there for a reason, but the statute didn’t stop Marcy’s stomach from dry heaving or her mind from remembering. She tried to focus on what she needed to do now but flashed back to Campos, remembered horror, the newer vision of blood on the wall. Blood of the one I killed.

The nausea would not subside, though what had just happened seemed like a dream, a nightmare. One should be able to tell when tragedy strikes because the drag in time, right before the event, seemed scripted now, and somehow slowed, with colors more saturated and conversations foretold. As if she might somehow recognize the pattern now, she would predict when a tragic event might happen again and avoid another tragedy. She saw herself again as she leaned over the seat and kissed Mark. Even then she’d known Sam would have to go find him, knew she shouldn’t have let them go, should have somehow stopped them. But she hadn’t. And now she would forever be the one who killed another.

She retched again and again, bent to retrieve the spotlight, and fell. She wanted nothing more than to curl up somewhere and sleep, to forget all of it, but something told her to get up.

Graham. The voice was Graham’s. He’d kept her alive once, and she knew she needed to keep moving or else Mark and Sam would die from their injuries and then their deaths would be on her conscience too. Her

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