Read Online Storm Tide Rising: Blackout Volume 2 by D W McAliley - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: D W McAliley
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Instead, he focused on Joe's back and ignored the rest of night around him.
Finally, Joe held up his left hand in a closed fist. He opened the fist slowly and laid it flat down. Eric followed his father's lead and knelt in the tall grass. For a few moments, neither of them moved as something beyond Eric's field of focus happened and Joe waited. Joe raised his hand and motioned forward before beginning a much slower and more controlled advance. After another thirty yards, Joe knelt and motioned Eric up to him.
When Eric got there, Joe pointed at the shades, then his eyes. Eric put the sunglasses on and Joe counted with his fingers slowly.
One ....
Two ......
Three ........
Joe stood, and Eric followed him over the barbed wire fence and into the Thompson's yard.
The three young men stared at the smoldering pile of rubble that had been the Thompson's house as if transfixed by it. Eric was beginning to think that his father would be able to walk up behind the nearest one and tap him on the shoulder before they were noticed, and then the stranger turned around. His eyes went wide in shock, and he made a sound in his throat that may have been an attempted warning, but came out a strangled gurgle of surprise.
"Hands!" Joe bellowed, leveling his M4 at the young man. "Let me see your hands! NOW! " One of the three started for the tent, but Joe drew down on him and growled, "Don't make me shoot you, dumbass. Whatever is in the tent ain't gonna help you now."
The young man stopped, and his shoulders sagged in defeat. All three of them seemed about Eric's height and build. They were shirtless and covered from the waist up in a grimy mixture of sweat, dirt, and soot. The young man nearest the burning house wore a full and ragged beard and he squinted at Eric in an odd way. Eric frowned back as something tickled the back of his memory. "Brant?" he asked, hesitantly.
The bearded young man frowned deeper and after a brief hesitation, said, "Eric?"
Ch.11
Three Days
Eric dropped the muzzle of his rifle and started forward, but Joe stepped between him and Brant.
"Just a minute," Joe said calmly. "Eric, you go check that tent and take any weapons you find in there to the fence line and set 'em down."
"Now hold on," one of the two strangers said, his voice heated. "That's our stuff. You can't just go through our stuff."
Joe leveled a finger at the young man without letting his rifle drop. "Most days, you'd be right, kid. But I don't know you. I know Brant here, and he's a good kid. But I just don't know you and your friend, and I don't know how you three ended up here together with his house in flames. So today, you ain't right. I'm gonna make sure you have to take a good jog to get to anything that cuts or goes bang."
Brant stepped forward and put his hand on his friend's arm. "It's okay, Oscar. I've known these guys forever."
Oscar glared at Joe, his defeat evident, and turned his back on the rest of the group. Eric shouldered his rifle, walked over to the tent, and started unzipping the flap. It didn't feel right putting his head into something that was not his own. Eric felt somewhat dirty as he turned over sleeping bags, but his father's suspicions were well founded. Eric pulled two shotguns, a hunting rifle, a revolver, and a large hunting knife from the tent.
Joe watched Eric bring the guns out one by one until he finally backed out of the tent empty handed, and then he turned to Brant. "Where's the rest of them?"
Brant nodded toward the shed farthest from the house. "We stacked them in there with the canned food and bottled water."
Joe fixed all three men with a serious stare. "None of you move toward that shed unless I say it's okay. If I think you're going for a gun, I'll put you down. Things ain't the way they were, but I think you probably know that." Joe glanced meaningfully at the burning house. "Brant, what happened, son?"
Brant swallowed hard and turned to look at the last flames rising from the
Finally, Joe held up his left hand in a closed fist. He opened the fist slowly and laid it flat down. Eric followed his father's lead and knelt in the tall grass. For a few moments, neither of them moved as something beyond Eric's field of focus happened and Joe waited. Joe raised his hand and motioned forward before beginning a much slower and more controlled advance. After another thirty yards, Joe knelt and motioned Eric up to him.
When Eric got there, Joe pointed at the shades, then his eyes. Eric put the sunglasses on and Joe counted with his fingers slowly.
One ....
Two ......
Three ........
Joe stood, and Eric followed him over the barbed wire fence and into the Thompson's yard.
The three young men stared at the smoldering pile of rubble that had been the Thompson's house as if transfixed by it. Eric was beginning to think that his father would be able to walk up behind the nearest one and tap him on the shoulder before they were noticed, and then the stranger turned around. His eyes went wide in shock, and he made a sound in his throat that may have been an attempted warning, but came out a strangled gurgle of surprise.
"Hands!" Joe bellowed, leveling his M4 at the young man. "Let me see your hands! NOW! " One of the three started for the tent, but Joe drew down on him and growled, "Don't make me shoot you, dumbass. Whatever is in the tent ain't gonna help you now."
The young man stopped, and his shoulders sagged in defeat. All three of them seemed about Eric's height and build. They were shirtless and covered from the waist up in a grimy mixture of sweat, dirt, and soot. The young man nearest the burning house wore a full and ragged beard and he squinted at Eric in an odd way. Eric frowned back as something tickled the back of his memory. "Brant?" he asked, hesitantly.
The bearded young man frowned deeper and after a brief hesitation, said, "Eric?"
Ch.11
Three Days
Eric dropped the muzzle of his rifle and started forward, but Joe stepped between him and Brant.
"Just a minute," Joe said calmly. "Eric, you go check that tent and take any weapons you find in there to the fence line and set 'em down."
"Now hold on," one of the two strangers said, his voice heated. "That's our stuff. You can't just go through our stuff."
Joe leveled a finger at the young man without letting his rifle drop. "Most days, you'd be right, kid. But I don't know you. I know Brant here, and he's a good kid. But I just don't know you and your friend, and I don't know how you three ended up here together with his house in flames. So today, you ain't right. I'm gonna make sure you have to take a good jog to get to anything that cuts or goes bang."
Brant stepped forward and put his hand on his friend's arm. "It's okay, Oscar. I've known these guys forever."
Oscar glared at Joe, his defeat evident, and turned his back on the rest of the group. Eric shouldered his rifle, walked over to the tent, and started unzipping the flap. It didn't feel right putting his head into something that was not his own. Eric felt somewhat dirty as he turned over sleeping bags, but his father's suspicions were well founded. Eric pulled two shotguns, a hunting rifle, a revolver, and a large hunting knife from the tent.
Joe watched Eric bring the guns out one by one until he finally backed out of the tent empty handed, and then he turned to Brant. "Where's the rest of them?"
Brant nodded toward the shed farthest from the house. "We stacked them in there with the canned food and bottled water."
Joe fixed all three men with a serious stare. "None of you move toward that shed unless I say it's okay. If I think you're going for a gun, I'll put you down. Things ain't the way they were, but I think you probably know that." Joe glanced meaningfully at the burning house. "Brant, what happened, son?"
Brant swallowed hard and turned to look at the last flames rising from the
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