The Threat Unseen by Matthew S. Cox

Author:Matthew S. Cox [Cox, Matthew S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781950738564
Amazon: B0B3M1LSQL
Goodreads: 61255222
Publisher: Division Zero Press
Published: 2022-06-08T05:00:00+00:00

19

THE LAST SURVIVOR

MAY 26TH

The man stared at her for an eternity of five more seconds.

Harper held completely still, except for a bit of shaking in her hands.

“Oh, you’re a kid.” The man raised his head from the rifle’s sights but kept pointing the weapon at her. “I’ll lower this thing if you aren’t here looking for trouble.”

“No trouble.” Harper offered a wary smile. “We aren’t here to cause problems. Heard about this camp and we came to investigate.”

The man lowered his rifle an inch or so, not quite aiming at her, but it wouldn’t take much for him to change his mind. She still couldn’t make a move for her shotgun. He’d kill her before she even got both hands on it. “Had some problems with the last set of visitors. You don’t seem like you with ’em.” He coughed, wheezed, then coughed again so hard it made Harper’s chest hurt.

She breathed out long and slow. Please don’t be crazy. “Them? The Lawless? Absolutely not. We’re survivors. Got an actual Army sergeant with us.”

“Meh. Army ain’t no good for no one now. Them bastards didn’t help us when we asked.” He grumbled.

She looked over his camo uniform, raised an eyebrow, then let her hands drop. “You’re not Army?”

“Relax, girl. I ain’t no threat to you. Dick fell off last month.” He chuckled.

Harper gasped.

“Aww, just being a smartass.” He wheeze-laughed into another coughing fit. “Sorta teasing ya. Darn thing didn’t fall off, but for damn sure don’t work no more. Aww hell.” He pivoted the rifle sideways and rested it across his lap. “I don’t have much time left, anyway. If you’re a devil with a pretty face, it don’t much matter. I’m gonna be dead soon.”

Harper closed her eyes and let the terror of the past minute or so melt out of her muscles. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“That’s good.” He coughed again. “Though, maybe I should ask you to. Only gonna get worse from here on.”

“What do you mean?”

He scratched at his chest. “I got six dozen types of cancer and who knows what the hell else. Only reason I’m still using up oxygen is all the preservatives in the MREs. Damn cancer can’t even digest that shit.”

She considered unslinging the shotgun, but it might make the guy panic and start shooting. He didn’t seem crazy, at least not too crazy, and certainly looked like death warmed over. Without the immediacy of a gun pointing at her face, her brain soaked in more details. His cheeks appeared sunken in, his hands bony. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light in the tent, she noticed his hair looked thin and even missing in clumps. Not quite what she expected from either radiation poisoning or cancer.

Duh. Cancer patients lose their hair because of chemo, not the cancer itself. She took another step closer, eyeing the boxes, which appeared to be cases for MREs.

“You’re not Army?” she asked, barely over a whisper.

“Nope. Nash—” His voice broke over a lump of phlegm.

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