After: Red Scare (AFTER post-apocalyptic series, Book 5) by Scott Nicholson Page B

DeVontay didn’t believe it, but he hoped to soothe the woman.
    “You’ll live as long as we let you,” Willow said.
    The room erupted in a flash of light and percussion, wet and warm fluid spattering DeVontay, a line of silvery heat searing along the side of his rib cage.
    The blanket held a mushy mass of soft red pulp where Willow’s head had been.
    A broken cackle of laughter poured from the woman’s throat. DeVontay didn’t know how many rounds she had left, but she didn’t seem to be aiming anymore.
    He laid Willow on the floor and touched the gash in his side. His fingers came away bloody but the bullet had skimmed instead of penetrated.
    “Nobody will be around to write the history,” the woman repeated.
    Humans write their histories in blood.
    But DeVontay didn’t respond to her. Instead, he slipped out the door and took his chances with the swarming Zapheads.

CHAPTER TEN

    Dusk was settling as Franklin followed Brock through a greenway running along a sluggish brown creek.
    The public park had probably been the pride of Newton, with picnic tables, basketball courts, skateboard ramps, and swing sets, but now the grass was knee high and weeds sprouted up through the asphalt walking track. Franklin had seen photographs of Chernobyl taken forty years after the deadly nuclear accident, and Mother Nature quickly reclaimed the streets and parking lots with little effort, trees already rivaling the three-story buildings of the abandoned city. The solar flares were a disruption of a different sort, but Franklin found comfort in the notion that life would go on, no matter what forces tugged and tore at the world.
    Probably be deer roaming this park by next year. Good hunting territory. Now, if I only had a goddamned gun.
    But he wasn’t sure about the quality of meat anymore. Some of the animals in the forest around his compound had exhibited those strange, gleaming eyes and erratic behavior. Although animals didn’t die off to the same extent humans did, they were affected by the solar storms, too. Franklin was just glad his goats and chickens hadn’t turned on him, but goats were pretty weird even without mutations.
    The woman behind him—Sierra, Brock had called her—carried Franklin’s rifle. Brock was no gentleman, putting the extra weight on the woman, but he seemed like the kind who got what he wanted and never had to pay full price.
    The smoke rising from Newton threw a haze across the horizon, painting the sunset blood red. “Looks like there won’t be much of Newton left by the time we get there,” Franklin said.
    “Who said we’re going there?” Brock said without turning.
    Franklin thought about adding, “Well, we’re getting closer with every step.” But he’d have better luck with Sierra. “How long have you guys been together?”
    “We’re not together,” she said.
    “Don’t start that,” Brock said. This was apparently a discussion they’d kicked around before.
    “I didn’t mean it like that,” Franklin said. “That’s none of my business. I meant, how long have you been in this group?”
    “How do you know we’re in a group?” she answered. She’d obviously been studying at the Brock School of Conversation for a while.
    “Everybody’s either in a group or dead.”
    “You’re not.”
    “I’m in a group. I just lost mine.”
    “We’re putting something together,” Brock said. “If it works out, we’re taking it all back.”
    “Sounds like we won’t get much help from the Army.” After the flurry of explosions half an hour ago, the shooting had diminished to an occasional distant burst. If Shipley was the one leading the charge, he wasn’t going in at full strength.
    “The Army’s part of the problem, not part of the solution,” Brock said.
    Jesus, is this guy a business major? Next thing you know he’ll be calling the apocalypse a “win win win, with plenty of upside potential.”
    “What do you mean?” Franklin asked. He thought he saw movement