The Survivalist (Finest Hour) by Arthur T. Bradley

Author:Arthur T. Bradley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: apocalypse, survival, survivalist, apocalypse fiction, teotwawki, prepper, survivalist fiction
Publisher: Arthur T. Bradley

Chapter 12

For the next two hours, Tanner and Samantha drove northeast on Highway 11, passing through Fairfield, Staunton, and Harrisonburg. They eventually turned east on Highway 211, a small county road that wound its way through a narrow mountain range before finally coming out near the town of Luray, Virginia.

A roadside billboard for Luray Caverns promised that the underground tourist attraction was nothing short of a “Subterranean World of Wonder.”

Tanner nodded toward the sign.

“What do you say? Another pit stop?”

Samantha was about to lay into him when she saw the grin coming up on his face.

“No more tourist stops,” she insisted. “Ever.”

He laughed. “It’s not like there’s a psycho soldier lying in wait at every national landmark.”

“Still, no reason to chance it.”

“For once, darlin’, I agree with you.”

“Hey, look!” she said, pointing to a small hand-painted sign at the end of a dirt driveway. Jenkins’ Homemade Honey and Honey Butter.

“Sorry to tell you, but the Jenkins are probably pushing up daisies.”

“Even so, I bet there’s honey in the cupboards. And you could use some on those claw marks.”

Tanner touched the bloody scratches on his arm. They stung like someone had sprinkled them with pretzel salt.

“How’s honey going to help these?”

“Don’t you remember? That’s what the crazy old doctor lady used when she sewed your head together.”

“Ah, yes,” he said, remembering their brief visit with the self-proclaimed anarchists outside of Atlanta. “Good ole Granny McSunshine.”

Samantha laughed. “That would be a great name for a sandwich from McDonald’s!”

“Oh, how I miss those french fries.”

“I’m sure they miss you too,” she said, eyeing his stomach.

He growled. “You do remember that Granny was a large animal vet?”

“True, but think about it. Are you really so different than a cow? You’re both big and hairy.” She covered her mouth to hide a snicker.

“Don’t forget that we both like to eat all day.”

“That’s true, too. Plus, you can both be pretty stinky. People used to say that cows caused global warming. Now, I know better.”

“Oh, that one hurt.” They were coming up on the drive. “So, do we stop or not?”

“We stop. Besides, you did say that you love honey.”

“When did I say that?”

“When we caught that woman stealing our packs, remember?”

“That’s right.” What he didn’t point out was that when he had made the statement, he was actually referring to the sexual favors the woman had provided in exchange for a speedy release.

Tanner slowed and turned the car into the dirt drive. Like many country houses, the residents had built their home a short distance from the main road to have a little privacy, as well as shield them from the noise of passing traffic. After a few hundred feet, the house finally came into view. It was a quaint two-story farmhouse painted a light yellow with white trim along the eaves. A porch wrapped around three sides of the house, and a young woman sat rocking in a chair beside the front door. As soon as they came into view, she stood up and rushed into the house, the screen door banging shut behind her.

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