Read Online After: The Echo (AFTER post-apocalyptic series, Book 2) by Scott Nicholson - Free Book Online
Book: After: The Echo (AFTER post-apocalyptic series, Book 2) by Scott Nicholson
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Authors: Scott Nicholson
Tags: Suspense, Science-Fiction, adventure, Horror, Paranormal, Mystery, Action, Zombie, supernatural, Zombies, post apocalyptic, Dystopian, walking dead, brian keene, world war z, technothriller, Stephen King, Joe Hill, Dean Koontz, bentley little, Justin Cronin, After series, J.L. Bourne
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and saw the grainy stretch of beach opening up to the expanse of blue-green water. A speedboat droned in the distance, the source of the hum that had awakened her.
The Lake Norman vacation. A break from tenth grade and geometry and the persistent attention of David Anderson, first-chair clarinetist and algebra honors student. School a glorious eight weeks in the future, so far on the horizon as to not even be imaginable yet. Her parents back at the club, Dad probably sipping a beer after a round of golf, Mom in a lounge chair reading a James Patterson paperback. Not a care in the world.
Chelsea?
Chelsea was right there on the beach when Rachel had closed her eyes— just for a second, I only wanted to block out the bright blinding sun for a second —and now she was gone.
Rachel lifted her head and squinted up and down the beach. They were in an isolated, shady spot, the nearest pier fifty yards away. The boats there were docked and tethered, and a couple of people sat on the edge of the pier, feet dangling in the water.
Chelsea couldn’t have gone far in those few seconds Rachel had closed her eyes—and she was now willing to admit it had been seconds , plural. Still, Chelsea wouldn’t have gone into the water without her big sister. Because Rachel would give her an Indian sunburn on her forearm or twist one of her pigtails until she squealed like a real pig.
But Chelsea wasn’t on the beach. Had she gone up the trail and through the landscaped trees to the club?
I’ll get that twerp for leaving me down here to get sunburned.
But their tube of sunscreen, towels, and half-full Sprites were sitting beside Rachel, along with Chelsea’s iPod and ear buds. She was into Taylor Swift and Katy Perry at the moment, girl power music. Chelsea never went anywhere without her ear buds. The only time she took them out was when she was in the shower or...
And the horror dawned on her just as the last dregs of drowsiness fell away. She didn’t even recall jumping to her feet. She could very well have levitated all the way to the water’s edge.
Then Rachel was knee-deep in the lake, beating the surface, screaming Chelsea’s name as the silver droplets showered around her with a laughing rhythm. She dove into the water, the contrasting coolness heightening her senses. Chelsea was wearing a green bikini that was just starting to fill out a little with swells of pudginess. She should be easy to spot.
The terrain sloped gently into the water, meaning Chelsea would have had to go out at least thirty feet to be in over her head. There were no sudden drop-offs, no real currents, no undertow. No reason to go under and not come up.
Rachel held her breath until her lungs burned and her eyes stung. She forced herself to the surface and dove again, into deeper water.
Still no Chelsea.
This time when she broke water, she waved her arms and shouted “Help! Help!” The couple on the pier saw her and started running.
Come on, Chelsea, don’t be lost.
I only closed my eyes for a second.
I didn’t mean to…
She sat up, fighting for breath, wondering why the water was so cold.
“Hey,” DeVontay said. “You okay?”
He was crouched by the opening of the damaged cockpit, a map open across his knees and tilted toward the campfire. The flames had burned low, casting a reddish hue against the plane’s interior and glinting dully against the dead instrument panels.
Rachel held up her palms. Still empty, even after all these years of reaching.
“You were calling her name,” DeVontay said. He’d taken first watch, and Rachel suspected he’d let her keep sleeping even after it was time for her turn as sentry.
She didn’t want to cry in front of him. She had to be strong. Even though she couldn’t claim to be a woman of faith any longer, she was still a woman. She couldn’t afford to live in an After where the rules were made by men.
“We’ve all had losses,” she said, glancing at Stephen’s sleeping form. “You
The Lake Norman vacation. A break from tenth grade and geometry and the persistent attention of David Anderson, first-chair clarinetist and algebra honors student. School a glorious eight weeks in the future, so far on the horizon as to not even be imaginable yet. Her parents back at the club, Dad probably sipping a beer after a round of golf, Mom in a lounge chair reading a James Patterson paperback. Not a care in the world.
Chelsea?
Chelsea was right there on the beach when Rachel had closed her eyes— just for a second, I only wanted to block out the bright blinding sun for a second —and now she was gone.
Rachel lifted her head and squinted up and down the beach. They were in an isolated, shady spot, the nearest pier fifty yards away. The boats there were docked and tethered, and a couple of people sat on the edge of the pier, feet dangling in the water.
Chelsea couldn’t have gone far in those few seconds Rachel had closed her eyes—and she was now willing to admit it had been seconds , plural. Still, Chelsea wouldn’t have gone into the water without her big sister. Because Rachel would give her an Indian sunburn on her forearm or twist one of her pigtails until she squealed like a real pig.
But Chelsea wasn’t on the beach. Had she gone up the trail and through the landscaped trees to the club?
I’ll get that twerp for leaving me down here to get sunburned.
But their tube of sunscreen, towels, and half-full Sprites were sitting beside Rachel, along with Chelsea’s iPod and ear buds. She was into Taylor Swift and Katy Perry at the moment, girl power music. Chelsea never went anywhere without her ear buds. The only time she took them out was when she was in the shower or...
And the horror dawned on her just as the last dregs of drowsiness fell away. She didn’t even recall jumping to her feet. She could very well have levitated all the way to the water’s edge.
Then Rachel was knee-deep in the lake, beating the surface, screaming Chelsea’s name as the silver droplets showered around her with a laughing rhythm. She dove into the water, the contrasting coolness heightening her senses. Chelsea was wearing a green bikini that was just starting to fill out a little with swells of pudginess. She should be easy to spot.
The terrain sloped gently into the water, meaning Chelsea would have had to go out at least thirty feet to be in over her head. There were no sudden drop-offs, no real currents, no undertow. No reason to go under and not come up.
Rachel held her breath until her lungs burned and her eyes stung. She forced herself to the surface and dove again, into deeper water.
Still no Chelsea.
This time when she broke water, she waved her arms and shouted “Help! Help!” The couple on the pier saw her and started running.
Come on, Chelsea, don’t be lost.
I only closed my eyes for a second.
I didn’t mean to…
She sat up, fighting for breath, wondering why the water was so cold.
“Hey,” DeVontay said. “You okay?”
He was crouched by the opening of the damaged cockpit, a map open across his knees and tilted toward the campfire. The flames had burned low, casting a reddish hue against the plane’s interior and glinting dully against the dead instrument panels.
Rachel held up her palms. Still empty, even after all these years of reaching.
“You were calling her name,” DeVontay said. He’d taken first watch, and Rachel suspected he’d let her keep sleeping even after it was time for her turn as sentry.
She didn’t want to cry in front of him. She had to be strong. Even though she couldn’t claim to be a woman of faith any longer, she was still a woman. She couldn’t afford to live in an After where the rules were made by men.
“We’ve all had losses,” she said, glancing at Stephen’s sleeping form. “You
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