The Truth About Everything by Bridget Farr

Author:Bridget Farr
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: homeschool, doomsday prep, off grid, coming of age, truth about all things, Bridget Far, Brittney Farr, homeschooled teenagers, public education, farm kids, educated, the serpent king, the right to education
Publisher: North Star Editions
Published: 2022-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 22

A hand rocks my shoulder, its fingertips cool against my skin. The room is black, and it takes a few seconds before my eyes catch the outlines of Dad’s face.

“It’s time,” he whispers, his teeth glinting in the dim morning light.

“Today?”

“Yes. Now.”

“For real? Or—”

“Treat every time like it’s the one.”

I swallow a sigh. “What about Saturday?”

“No. Now. They aren’t going to let us pick the day.”

I ignore the fact that he did. He picked the day. The day of the math test. The debate in government. Now this. He can’t fix the truck if we’re bugging out. Another day lost, maybe two if he wants to stay out there.

Dad presses his watch, the screen lighting up green. “Let’s go. You know we only got four minutes and we’re already down eighteen seconds.”

I flap back my quilt and Dad pats my knee. “You know what to do.”

He’s right. I do.

The next steps are familiar, and I count the seconds as I move, the way Dad taught me. Eight seconds to pull on my jeans and a sweater. Two seconds to grab the prepared bag from my closet.

I peek around the corner of Mom and Dad’s room to see Mom hidden under the blankets, a mound in the darkness. Dad brushes past me in the hallway.

“Why isn’t she up?”

Dad reaches into the closet to pull down our handguns. He shoves his in a holster and hands mine to me.

“Aren’t you going to wake her up?”

Dad shakes his head. “Not today.”

“Why not? We always go together.”

After Mom lost Avery, Dad didn’t have her help set up the cabin, but she always does the drills. Leave no man behind. Or mom.

“She’s just not today.” He drops his eyes. “She said no.”

I wish I could say no. Dad’s watch flashes green again. “No time to talk. I’ll grab the safe and meet you outside.”

No. He can’t go down there. “I’ll get it. I moved it when I took some new cans down. You get the bikes.”

Dad frowns. We don’t change the routine. I run down the stairs before he can say anything else. The safe is where it always is, beneath the bench where we’ll sit and wait out the nuclear winter. I grab the key off the hook and grab out the envelope of cash.

It’s only a drill. He won’t look inside. He won’t count it and see the missing $250.

I shove the envelope in my backpack and race back up the stairs.

Twenty-eight seconds.

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