Read Online Castroville: Countdown to Armageddon: Book 7 by Darrell Maloney - Free Book Online
Authors: Darrell Maloney
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since the blackout began.
These days Robbie survived on the few canned goods he could find that were still safe to eat. Mostly Star-Kist brand tuna and various brands of canned pasta, Vienna sausages and tamales.
Early on, just a week after the blackout started, he’d walked to the neighborhood HEB supermarket two blocks from his house. While looters with no common sense had wasted their time stealing DVDs and electronics that would never work again, Robbie filled a shopping cart with five pound bags of apples and potatoes. Then he went back for three other carts until all had been depleted, each time wearing his San Antonio Police uniform so others wouldn’t challenge him or try to steal from him.
He’d spent many hours slicing the potatoes and apples and laying them all over his apartment, as well as the vacant apartment he broke into next door to his. The apple and potato slices grew dark as they dried out, but he knew they were still edible. As food became more and more scarce, the dried apples and potatoes supplemented his diet. They kept him strong where others grew weak. They enabled him to beat and rob others who could no longer defend themselves. They allowed him to go on while so many others were slowly starving to death and giving up.
They allowed him to survive when so many others didn’t.
He’d eaten human flesh on several occasions, but didn’t particularly like it. He was disappointed, for a man-eater would have had a never-ending supply of fresh meat, even as other food sources dwindled down to nothing. Perhaps the last vestiges of sanity prevented Robbie from becoming a cannibal. For his mind was almost totally gone at that point.
The apples and potatoes were long gone now, and Robbie survived on the canned goods be could find, and on staples such as trail mix and nuts, and the squirrels and rabbits that were still relatively plentiful in the expansive zoo.
Looking back, he wished he’d filled those carts with bags of dried beans and rice. They’d have lasted much longer and required no preparation other than boiling in a pot of water.
Robbie’s thoughts were now pretty much equally divided between fantasies of sweet Hannah and what he’d like to do to her. And thoughts of revenge against members of the SAPD, and what he’d like to do to them.
And thoughts of a good meal.
The night before he’d actually dreamed he was sitting across the table from Hannah in his old favorite steak house. She’d been beautiful, as always, her hair and makeup flawlessly done. Before them were steak dinners with all the trimmings. Robbie could smell the meaty aroma of his steaming ribeye, even as he basked in the beauty of his one and only true love.
“I have a surprise for you,” he’d told sweet Hannah as he reached across the table and took her hand in his.
She’d smiled and said, “Oh, goody. I just love surprises.”
“Good. Close your eyes.”
She did, of course. Because in Robbie’s dreams sweet Hannah always did what Robbie commanded of her.
From beneath the table, Robbie pulled out the severed head of Hannah’s husband, John Castro, and placed it between their plates, a macabre centerpiece if there ever was one.
“Okay, sweetheart. Open your eyes.”
Instead of screaming or drawing back in horror, Hannah simply melted.
“Oh baby… you did it. You killed him. You got him out of the way, so we can finally be together.”
She smiled and cried tears of happiness, before looking into Robbie’s eyes and saying, “Baby, I love you so much. I’m so glad we’re finally together, as we should have been all along.”
In Robbie’s dreams, common sense was nonsensical. Logic was illogical. The impossible was the norm.
Because Robbie’s dreams weren’t based in reality. Robbie’s dreams came from a
These days Robbie survived on the few canned goods he could find that were still safe to eat. Mostly Star-Kist brand tuna and various brands of canned pasta, Vienna sausages and tamales.
Early on, just a week after the blackout started, he’d walked to the neighborhood HEB supermarket two blocks from his house. While looters with no common sense had wasted their time stealing DVDs and electronics that would never work again, Robbie filled a shopping cart with five pound bags of apples and potatoes. Then he went back for three other carts until all had been depleted, each time wearing his San Antonio Police uniform so others wouldn’t challenge him or try to steal from him.
He’d spent many hours slicing the potatoes and apples and laying them all over his apartment, as well as the vacant apartment he broke into next door to his. The apple and potato slices grew dark as they dried out, but he knew they were still edible. As food became more and more scarce, the dried apples and potatoes supplemented his diet. They kept him strong where others grew weak. They enabled him to beat and rob others who could no longer defend themselves. They allowed him to go on while so many others were slowly starving to death and giving up.
They allowed him to survive when so many others didn’t.
He’d eaten human flesh on several occasions, but didn’t particularly like it. He was disappointed, for a man-eater would have had a never-ending supply of fresh meat, even as other food sources dwindled down to nothing. Perhaps the last vestiges of sanity prevented Robbie from becoming a cannibal. For his mind was almost totally gone at that point.
The apples and potatoes were long gone now, and Robbie survived on the canned goods be could find, and on staples such as trail mix and nuts, and the squirrels and rabbits that were still relatively plentiful in the expansive zoo.
Looking back, he wished he’d filled those carts with bags of dried beans and rice. They’d have lasted much longer and required no preparation other than boiling in a pot of water.
Robbie’s thoughts were now pretty much equally divided between fantasies of sweet Hannah and what he’d like to do to her. And thoughts of revenge against members of the SAPD, and what he’d like to do to them.
And thoughts of a good meal.
The night before he’d actually dreamed he was sitting across the table from Hannah in his old favorite steak house. She’d been beautiful, as always, her hair and makeup flawlessly done. Before them were steak dinners with all the trimmings. Robbie could smell the meaty aroma of his steaming ribeye, even as he basked in the beauty of his one and only true love.
“I have a surprise for you,” he’d told sweet Hannah as he reached across the table and took her hand in his.
She’d smiled and said, “Oh, goody. I just love surprises.”
“Good. Close your eyes.”
She did, of course. Because in Robbie’s dreams sweet Hannah always did what Robbie commanded of her.
From beneath the table, Robbie pulled out the severed head of Hannah’s husband, John Castro, and placed it between their plates, a macabre centerpiece if there ever was one.
“Okay, sweetheart. Open your eyes.”
Instead of screaming or drawing back in horror, Hannah simply melted.
“Oh baby… you did it. You killed him. You got him out of the way, so we can finally be together.”
She smiled and cried tears of happiness, before looking into Robbie’s eyes and saying, “Baby, I love you so much. I’m so glad we’re finally together, as we should have been all along.”
In Robbie’s dreams, common sense was nonsensical. Logic was illogical. The impossible was the norm.
Because Robbie’s dreams weren’t based in reality. Robbie’s dreams came from a
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