The air was already warm, and he could smell the charcoal and hint of smoke lingering in the air as the breeze kicked up. He used the crutches to walk back to the opposite end of the covered porch and saw her Ford 250 sitting in the driveway. He smiled, thinking they were kindred spirits with matching rigs, his just a little newer and shinier.

  He scanned the area before heading back inside. His body was stiff and sore. He knew that, without the pain meds she’d given him, he’d have been in far more pain. It was his good fortune that had brought her to his rescue. Now, he just needed a little more good luck to leave and find his daughter.

  Seeing the barn’s remains had given him an idea, though. They couldn’t drive off, and he was in no shape to walk forty miles on crutches, but surely, he could ride a horse. When Amanda got back, he was going to ask her to borrow one. He’d find a way to pay her or return the horse once things returned to normal. Fumbling his way back inside, he tried not to think about the fact that ‘normal’ could be a long way away.

  Austin sat on the couch as carefully as he could, propping his leg back up and relaxing against the pillows. He was sweating with the exertion it had taken to go pee. That didn’t bode well for his grand plans to ride a horse forty miles back to his trailer. Maybe tomorrow, things would look brighter. For now, he’d have to trust Bob Little to look out for his daughter. With that depressing thought, Austin tossed the blanket over his thighs, leaving his bare chest and lower legs exposed before closing his eyes and trying to breathe through the pain that was racking his body. He could feel the drowsiness growing with every passing second now, and welcomed the idea of sleeping through the pain. Soon, he felt himself drifting off, and didn’t fight the urge to close his eyes.

  “What the hell?” he snapped, jerking awake at the sound of a loud crash.

  He jerked up to a seated position, only remembering he wasn’t in good shape after his leg fell off the pillow. He cursed out loud, nearly biting his tongue; it felt like he’d broken the bone all over again.

  He didn’t have time to worry about the pain, though. Someone was in the house, and he was only lucky he’d cursed quietly instead of screamed outright. He gingerly rolled off the couch with the help of one crutch, finding the rifle and quickly checking to see if it was loaded. One bullet was not going to do him a lot of good, he thought angrily. What good was a gun with a single bullet?

  Whoever was in the house was in the back room. They must not have seen him lying on the couch, and he had been hopped up on painkillers and not heard a thing until they’d gotten careless and loud with whatever they were doing.

  “It’s in that cabinet,” a male voice called out.

  More than one person in the house, then, which meant he absolutely needed more than a single bullet. A gun cabinet with a glass door was against the wall nearby, and he could see a shotgun and what looked to be another long rifle in the rack. He hated gun cabinets with glass doors—they were completely ineffective for actually keeping the guns safe, but in this case, it was a godsend. Not wasting another second, he pulled himself over to the cabinet, hoping there were some cartridges stored there.

  The gun cabinet was locked, of course. He looked around and saw a framed picture of an older couple sitting on an end table. He grabbed it and did his best to shatter the glass as quietly as possible, using a nearby afghan to muffle the sound. He could hear the men in the other room, knocking things over and talking to one another. He was praying they were too loud to hear him.

  Using one hand to keep himself propped up via the crutch, he kept one eye on the hallway as he reached in and found several boxes of shells and bullets. Without hesitating, he pulled the long rifle off the rack, quickly loaded the gun, and waited, knowing the thieves would be tossing the rest of the house soon enough. Leaning against the cabinet, the crutch under his armpit, he could just stay steady enough to use the rifle if he needed to.

  Waiting allowed the pain to come back to him, though, along with the drowsiness the meds had brought on. Austin blinked, trying to focus his eyes. The pain was crippling, and ignoring it was getting harder. He had to focus on making sure his aim was true when those men appeared. It’d been a while since he’d shot a rifle, and he wasn’t looking forward to taking a life, but he would do whatever was necessary to stay alive.

  “Come on, let’s see if there’s any food,” he heard one of the male voices say.

  He held the gun barrel up, pressing the butt against his shoulder, his finger hovering over the trigger.

  “Whoa!” the first man down the hall called out when he noticed Austin propped against the gun cabinet, and in nothing but a neon pink leg cast and his boxers.

  “What?” his buddy asked, appearing with a small box.

  “Put whatever it is you’re trying to steal down and get out of here before I kill you,” Austin growled, gesturing to the door with the rifle.

  The two men, or maybe older teens, were scruffy and unshaven—they looked to be homeless, and Austin would have bet money they were drug addicts. Only drug use had a way of making young men look so aged and worn.

  “Dude, you can’t even walk,” one of the guys shot back.

  “I don’t need to walk,” Austin answered. “I only need to shoot. Put the box down and leave,” he repeated, his voice calm and steady.

  The two addicts exchanged a look, and Austin saw the moment they decided to ignore his demands. He fired off a shot, aiming over their heads so that it slammed into the wall directly behind them. Then he cocked the rifle again, prepared to shoot one or both of them if necessary.

  “Dude!” one of them screamed, though the other seemed frozen.

  “That was a warning shot. Put the box down or I shoot you first,” he said, aiming the barrel at the guy carrying the box. “Then you,” he said, moving the barrel to the other man, lining it up with his face.

  The men looked at one another again, then back to Austin. “You can’t chase us. We could just run out of here,” the guy holding the box reasoned.

  Austin smirked. “Run. I don’t mind shooting you in the back. Can you outrun a bullet?”

  “Leave it—we’ll find stuff somewhere else,” the first guy said, looking anxious.

  There was a moment of hesitation from the guy with the box before he dropped it on the ground, pill bottles rolling out. Austin looked at him evenly, one eyebrow raised as he realized they had been stealing Amanda’s vet medicine.

  “Get out now before I decide to shoot you anyway,” he warned them a moment later, when it seemed they were still debating their next move.

  With that, the guys raced for the front door, leaving it open behind them. Austin didn’t move in response; he just held the gun up, aimed at the door in case the guys came back. Eventually, his arm grew tired and he slowly lowered the gun, putting the safety on before resting it beside his outstretched legs. That had been close, and the tweakers weren’t going to be the last of it. He had a feeling that anyone in the area who knew Amanda was a vet was going to be trying to do the same thing. Medicine and painkillers were going to be a valuable commodity.

  Meanwhile, Savannah was out there all alone in the chaos. The thought of her encountering guys like he just had made his heart hurt. He had to get to her, to protect her. His only prayer was that the farm they’d been staying on was far enough off the beaten path that no one would mess with her. And while Bob Little was an old man, he was feisty. He’d protect Savannah until Austin could get there. There was enough food in the trailer for her to survive the next few days, at least. The water tank was full, too, which meant she would have clean drinking water.

  “The pump,” he groaned then, realizing the pump would require electricity to run.

  Okay, so she wouldn’t have water in the RV, but Bob had to have a water tank somewhere on the property. Savannah was smart enough to know she had to boil the water first. Thinking of that, Austin took some small comfort in knowing their time traveling the country in the trailer had given her some basic knowledge in camping off-grid, and knowing how to handle a situation like this, much as anyone could if they hadn’t been expecting it.

  His eyes drifted to his bright pink leg before he looked down at his chest, the large gauze bandage on his ribs standing out against his tanned skin. There was no denying he was in rough shape. He couldn’t simply get off the couch and go to his kid. The feeling of being helpless was hard to cope with, but he’d have to accept it—no matter what his parental instincts were screaming at him. Normally, he was a strong, capable man—not the man sitting on the floor, unable to stand on his own—but that wasn’t today. Today, he was just short of helpless.

  The only way he could help Savannah was to give himself a day or two to heal. “I’m coming, Savannah, I’m coming. You hold on and stay safe,” he whispered, fighting back the sudden tears that threatened to fall as he imagined her all alone, scared out of her mind.

  8

  Savannah lay in the bed where her father should have been sleeping. She couldn’t sleep in the farmer’s house with the rest of the group. She wanted to stay in the trailer in case her dad came back in the middle of the night. Night after night, she waited up, hoping she would hear his truck pull up outside. There had been so many times when she’d fallen asleep and dreamed she heard the sound and woke up, expecting to see him standing there, wondering why she was in his bed. Every time, she’d been left sad and disappointed to find it was only a dream.

  She heard a knock on the door of the trailer and pulled the pillow over her head. She didn’t want to face the day. Every day had been a fight to keep the Loveridge family there. They wanted to go. They reminded her of that fact all day long.

  “Are you awake?” Malachi called out in a soft voice.

  The thin doors of the fifth-wheel did little to block sound. She rolled out of the comfy, queen-size bed and got to her feet, opening the door that separated the bedroom from the living space of their trailer and moving to unlock the door. Malachi was standing outside, smiling and holding out a plate of scrambled eggs.

  “Hi,” she said, stepping down to meet him.

  “My mom made you some eggs,” he said, presenting her with the breakfast.

  The Loveridge family was resourceful. Every morning, Jim built a small fire in a firepit in front of the house, and every morning for the past three days, Tonya had eggs collected from the hens that the rancher had kept. The thieves hadn’t taken the chickens, most likely because catching chickens was a lot like herding cats. There’d been talk about butchering one of the hens to eat for dinner, but no one in the group had the first clue how to go about killing and plucking the bird.

  Savannah smiled. “Thank you.”

  She stood back, letting Malachi into the trailer. She self-consciously smoothed her hair down, slightly embarrassed to be seeing him the moment she rolled out of bed. The power still hadn’t been restored, which surprised Savannah. Jim Loveridge was only more convinced he was right, and that they were headed for the so-called end times.

  “Are you going to eat?” she asked, a little put off by being the only one with a meal in front of her.

  “I already ate,” he said with an easy smile.

  She took the plate and sat it on the table, gesturing for him to sit across from her. He took a seat, but awkwardly, and suddenly she could tell by the look on his face something was wrong. He was acting different, and now that he was inside the RV, he wouldn’t look her in the eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked quietly, pushing the plate to the side.

  “Savannah, my parents… they want to leave,” he said, apology coming through in his voice.

  “What? Already?”

  “It’s been three whole days. My dad said he’s already given you a day more than he agreed to.”

  “But Dad’s not back yet!”

  Malachi looked out the window instead of at her. “I know, but it isn’t safe here. Those men yesterday who passed by on the road, they could have hurt us. My dad says he knows they’ll come back with guns. Savannah, we don’t have guns. We have nothing to defend ourselves with. The baseball bat, shovels, and pitchforks are no match for a gun.”

  She shook her head, thinking about the group Malachi was talking about. “They were only looking for food. They left when they saw your dad’s friend come out of the barn with that shovel,” she insisted.

  He sighed, still avoiding her gaze. She followed his gaze, watching his mother heading off into the trees with a small shovel. Their bathroom situation wasn’t pleasant. “But what if it’s someone else next time?” he asked. “What if the people who shot that poor farmer come back?” he pointed out.

  “Don’t you think the police or National Guard will be here soon?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “Then, we can wait a couple more days,” she begged. She stared into his dark brown eyes, waiting for him to agree. His hair had been pulled back into a ponytail, giving her a clear view of his face, but he still wouldn’t meet her eyes.

  “It’s not up to me, Savannah. I don’t want you to be hurt. This is for the best.”

  She groaned, fighting the urge to throw the plate of eggs at the wall. “I can’t go. You said we could look for him today.”

  “I’m sorry. I will ask my dad if we can go into town again, but I have a feeling he will say no. It’s too dangerous,” Malachi stated, not for the first time.

  “Malachi, I can’t leave my dad,” she whispered, tears threatening.

  “Savannah, he isn’t here. We haven’t found his truck. Don’t you think he would have come back by now if he could? You have to think about whether or not something’s… happened to him.”

  Her mouth fell open. “Don’t say that!”

  It was something they had all been tiptoeing around the last couple of days, but she wouldn’t think of it. Not really. Savannah knew her dad wasn’t supposed to have been going far when he’d left that night. He had told her he’d be gone an hour, or maybe two. It made sense he would have walked back to the trailer if he could, yeah, but that only meant something had delayed him. It didn’t mean he’d been hurt, or worse.

  “I want you to be safe. Come with us. Let us protect you. Let me protect you,” Malachi begged her, his eyes suddenly catching hers.

  “How is it going to be safer at your home? How can you protect me? You said a shovel wasn’t enough,” she snapped, using his own defense to prove her point.

  “Our city might not be in the dark. This could be isolated to this region,” he said, parroting the words she’d heard Jim say several times.

  “And if it isn’t? What if the city is dark? You think the craziness here is bad, imagine what it will be like in the city!”

  “We don’t live in the city, but on the outskirts,” he corrected her.

  She rolled her eyes. “We’re out in the boonies here and it’s dangerous.”

  “Savannah, we have to go back home,” Malachi said simply. “It’s where we belong,” he said, reaching across the table and grabbing her hand.

  “I have to try and find him,” she insisted, though she didn’t pull her hand away.

  Malachi nodded, pulling his hand from hers before pushing the plate back towards her. “Eat. You need to keep up your strength.”

  She sighed, knowing that they were at an impasse, and he wouldn’t leave her alone until she ate the eggs. The chickens had been laying regularly, providing the Loveridges and their small group of followers with food, but the whole group had been eating plentifully. They’d found a deep freeze in the basement filled with beef, too, and Savannah knew that the stockpiled meat had helped make it easier for Jim Loveridge to keep his group on the farm for longer than planned. They had feasted on steaks that first night and been eating well at every meal since. Everyone had agreed that it would make sense to ration what food they had, but since nobody knew how to turn the beef into jerky, and there weren’t enough canned goods to expect them to last long anyway, they’d been eating what was available.

  Jim refused to contemplate the idea that they’d eventually have to loot for more food, though, and insisted God would provide for them, just as Bob Little’s farm had provided for them over these few days. Savannah was beginning to wonder what God’s provisions would look like if things got worse before they got better. She realized she really was in the wrong group, but it wasn’t like she had a lot of options.

  She finished the eggs that had long grown cold, and Malachi left her alone to change clothes. He was supposed to try to convince his father to let them go back into town, but she had a feeling that he was anxious to leave, as well. There was nothing here for any of them. She was holding them all back.

  And she’d never forgive herself if something happened to them because they’d chosen to stay and wait with her.

  9

  Malachi Loveridge sat down in one of the plastic lawn chairs, doing his best to relax. The big fifth-wheel wasn’t too far away, parked under a few trees to keep it shielded from the hot sun. He felt as if he were being pulled in two as he looked from the fifth-wheel back to the house where his family and their friends were resting.

  His heart wanted to stay with Savannah, but duty told him he had to stay with his family. He wasn’t the type of kid to rebel against his parents, either. They’d worked hard to shelter him from the tragedies of the world. He didn’t even feel the need to rebel against them. They’d always home-schooled him, choosing to educate him in the Bible instead of math books, and he loved traveling the country with them. People always asked him if he felt like he was missing out on things other kids his age did, but he didn’t. Not really.

  At least, not until now. Any question of what other kids did brought to mind dating, socializing, and lately, Malachi only thought about Savannah. She was different than the other girls he had met. Plenty of girls came to the revivals, but none of them were as pretty or as smart as Savannah. She was special. He’d known it the moment he’d first seen her. Since then, his parents had talked to him a little about his feelings for her and warned him to be careful. She wasn’t a believer in the Bible and could lead him astray if he wasn’t careful. And he knew that, but he was also sure she could one day be just as faithful as his family if he got the time to teach her.

 

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