Edge of Fear: An EMP Post-Apocalyptic Survival Prepper Series (American Fallout Book 3) by Alex Gunwick (rooftoppers .txt) 📕

her when he should have been prepping for the winter. He’d planned on chopping wood all day, but that went out the window as soon as he’d discovered she was gone.

Other issues needed to be addressed too. He’d wanted to reinforce the cabin walls to protect them again against heavy munitions fire. It would be an involved task, requiring dozens of man-hours to achieve. He also needed to dig some trenches and possibly even throw together a slapdash pillbox to protect sentries on duty.

Luke was grateful for his training. He’d do everything in his power to protect his family, but he couldn’t do it alone. He needed their help. As much as he dreaded that Liz or his children could get hurt, he had to admit more bodies wielding weapons was always a good thing when facing a superior force.

He frowned as the sun disappeared behind billowing clouds. Winter was practically upon them and their food stores were woefully inadequate. If they hadn’t been facing nuclear winter, they would have been fine. This was something he hadn’t considered in his preps. He’d hoped to be able to hunt wildlife in the mountains, but it proved to be harder than he’d anticipated. Foraging for mushrooms and edible roots helped, but it wouldn’t be enough. He had no idea how long winter would last. It could be years.

All of these problems required his attention. But instead of getting stuff done, he was stuck slogging up and down the damn mountain in search of his child. He couldn’t give up. Not until he found her. He just hoped he’d find her alive.

Eventually, he came across a twisting path that clung to the side of a steep drop-off. His eyes widened as he spotted recent tracks along its length, not yet filled in fully by snow. Perhaps Sierra had come this way?

He forced himself to keep a moderate pace as he approached the thin trail. He stayed alert for any sign of movement. It was the classic “goal in sight” pitfall. When a person neared the end of their task, journey, or ordeal, it was easy to lose control and try to get it finished. But that was when mistakes were made, and even the slightest error could be deadly.

Luke reached the trail and crouched down. With his gloved fingers, he brushed away some of the snow to get a better look at the tracks. The footprints appeared to be military issue boots, not the designer hiking footwear Sierra would have on.

Still, he stood and placed his foot next to one of the prints. The tracks were bigger by several inches. Definitely not Sierra. From the depth of the depression, the person was either heavy or they were carrying something big. A few yards away, he found a discarded energy bar wrapper and a crushed cigarette, but nothing that indicated his daughter was present.

The tracks could belong to Derek, or someone from the Children of the Bomb cult. There was no way of knowing unless he followed them. He rubbed his eyes. After being out all day, he just wanted to find her and get home.

As he continued his search, the tracks disappeared. Undeterred, he kept looking, eventually arriving back at a part of the forest he’d already checked. He still found no signs of his eldest child. He was right back where he started with no leads and dwindling hope.

He headed toward the Children of the Bomb’s cabin. He’d already checked it earlier, but it was vacant at the time. When he arrived close enough to view the area through his scope, he saw more cult members gathered than before. This wasn’t a good sign at all. Sierra wasn’t with them, but his family was still in terrible danger.

9

One day earlier …

Sierra heaved a heavy sigh and shifted as much as her bonds would allow in the heavy steel chair. The drab, dark concrete walls of the fallout shelter offered little to occupy her mind. She never figured it was possible to be bored and scared at the same time, but stuck there by herself in the tomb-like structure, she realized the emotions weren’t mutually exclusive. She tried to free herself for the millionth time, but the rope around her wrists and ankles only dug deeper into her tender flesh.

“Ow.” She gritted her teeth in frustration. When she’d chosen to follow Derek into the woods, this wasn’t the outcome she’d been expecting. Well, maybe the getting tied up part, but certainly not the abandonment afterward.

It was so unfair of him to do this to her. What if he tripped and fell off one of the cliffs? She would be stuck here. No one had any idea where to look for her. Even if they were looking right at this side of the mountain, they’d never see the door. Would her father discover her skeleton still tied to the chair years later after she’d starved to death?

Sierra’s belly rumbled. She sighed again. Derek had offered her some terrible “fake” food in a vacuum-sealed foil package. What did he call them? MREs? Meals ready to eat. What a joke. No one should be expected to eat that disgusting crap, least of all her. There was probably gluten in those “meals.” The idea of ingesting that junk made her want to die.

Heavy footsteps echoed through the shelter. Her head jerked up.

“About damn time!”

He didn’t respond to her shout. His tread seemed uneven. He shuffled like a zombie rather than picked up his feet.

“Hello? I’m starving, and I have to pee.”

She heard the heavy, clunking sound of the security bar being lifted. When the door swung inward, she berated him before he even made it through the portal.

“You can’t keep tying me up and leaving me like a cow in a slaughterhouse, you jerk. Do you know what my dad would do to you if he found out? He used to clean an old gun on the porch when my dates came for me in high