Read Online The Girl's Guide to the Apocalypse by Daphne Lamb - Free Book Online

contents onto the floor.
    “Are you okay?” I asked. “Where have you been?”
    “I was chased,” she panted. “I know I was stealing, but I was afraid they were going to kill me.”
    I put my hand on her back out of sympathy and then recoiled it slightly at realizing how moist she was.
    Debra bent over and picked up a wrapped loaf of bread. She wrinkled her nose.
    “Really?” she asked. “Bread? What is your people’s fascination with carbs?”
    “Would it make you feel better if she ran back out and got you some kale?” I asked dryly.
    “Would that be so hard? Am I asking for the moon here?”
    We had a stare down as I reached for the bread. I fumbled through the bag and took a slice out. Slowly, I brought it to my mouth and took a bite. It was soft and comforting, the best thing I’d eaten in weeks.
    “It’s delicious,” I said. “Highly recommended if you haven’t eaten anything in days.”
    Priscilla dropped the rest of the things in her arms. I saw some vegetables, more bread and a few canned items. I think they were soup.
    “Here.” I tossed Debra a bell pepper and tomato. She caught them and then curiously looked at them as if confused as to what to do with them.
    “What did you see?” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bruce snag one of the cans, take a look, then let his face fall with disappointment.
    Priscilla shook her head. “I was being stalked, I could feel it, and then I could hear it.”
    She took a deep breath.
    “But I saw a couple RVs,” she said. “They were camping. I thought I would go to them and ask if they’d seen my family.”
    Debra shook her head. “Really? That was the first thing you thought of?”
    “I knocked on the door,” Priscilla continued. “No one answered, so I just walked in. And there was all this food. Maybe I shouldn’t have stolen it, but I was just overcome with—” She choked up. “I haven’t eaten in so long, and they had bread. I’ve been craving it so badly.” She started to cry.
    Bruce held up a can of soup. “What’s this?”
    Priscilla looked down at his can.
    “Clam chowder?” his voice dripped with disdain.
    Debra shook her head. “Typical for a gluten addict,” she said. “Can’t discern what they’re allowing into their bodies.”
    “It’s okay,” I said in my most soothing tone. “What happened?”
    “I almost got caught,” she said. “I grabbed what I could and ran out of there, and I heard shouting and someone threw something at me.”
    “That doesn’t mean you bring clam chowder back with you,” Bruce said. “You might as well bring us a visit from the lactose intolerance fairy.”
    She turned her head to show her ear was bleeding. “I just hope I wasn’t followed.”
    “Did they have water?” I asked.
    “I saw a sink,” she said. “It was dripping.” She quickly became apologetic. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t get any in time.”
    I shook my head. “No, of course not.”
    “Did they have a bathroom?” Robert asked sincerely. “What were the mattress situations like?”
    “Can you point to me where it is?” I asked.
    She nodded and took me into the kitchen to the window by the back door. Bruce followed us.
    “There,” she said, pointing to a general space behind the hill. “Behind those trees.”
    “Did you happen to see if they had something like a minestrone or Italian wedding, maybe a comforting chicken noodle?”
    “Bruce!” I said. “Really?”
    “If we cook this, do you realize it’s going to stink up the house?” he asked. “Does no one think of these things?”
    She carefully put her pilfered supplies into the cupboard before leaving the bread for herself. She crawled into the corner and gnawed on it while I stared out the window, polishing off another slice. I thought about how I should have gone with her. Together we could have brought in twice as much. I was also struck by how this woman ignored everyone’s ill treatment and still brought them food. It was inconceivable to