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

It was near dark when she got back to the fallout shelter. Getting lost along the way had cost her too much time, but at least she’d found it. Proud of herself, she searched for new tracks in the snow, but there were none.

She made her way back inside. Her footfalls echoed off the bare concrete walls. When she reached the room, Derek still lay on the floor. A sizable pool of blood coalesced under his wounded shoulder. She approached him and shook his uninjured shoulder, but he didn’t respond.

She feared he might be dead. She held the palm of her hand to his nose and felt his warm breath.

“Wake up.” She slapped his cheek. He didn’t move, so she smacked him again, but harder.

His eyes fluttered open and focused on her. He struggled into a sitting position with a soft groan. “Did you get help?”

“No, my stupid family was gone.” She snapped open the first aid kit. “But I brought medical supplies, all by myself.”

With his fumbling assistance, she managed to get his jacket and shirt off. His skin was caked in blood, but she couldn’t help but appreciate the smooth lumps of muscle across his torso. She found a bottle of rubbing alcohol and unscrewed the cap.

“This is going to hurt.”

“It already hurts. Do it.”

“Okay.”

She upended the bottle over his seeping wound. Derek gritted his teeth and let out a long hiss as the alcohol did its magic. She used a wad of gauze to clean the area around his wound. There were two bullet holes on either side of his shoulder. So gross.

“Did you get shot twice?” she asked.

“No. Bullet passed through. Good thing. Won’t have to dig it out,” he panted.

She packed both wounds with gauze, as she’d been taught by her father, then used medical tape to secure a wide patch of it across the surface. Now that the bleeding was stopped and his wound was cleaned, Derek appeared a little better, but he was clearly still exhausted.

“What are you doing?” Derek stared at her incredulously as she started to unbuckle his pants.

“Your clothes are soaking wet. We have to get you out of them before you catch pneumonia.”

“Well, that’s legit.” Derek leaned his head back against the wall and allowed her to continue. Soon she had him stripped down to his underwear and started to clean him with a wad of alcohol-soaked gauze. Her fingers lingered over his muscled chest. He was so hot, even half dead.

“So, I guess that I’m not so useless after all, right?” She smiled and glanced up at his face but found him sound asleep. She sighed and wrapped him in a blanket before she snuggled up next to him.

“Typical.”

Derek awoke with a groan. His hand instinctively went to his wounded shoulder. His fingers touched soft gauze, and the memories of the previous night flooded back. He’d been shot and had fallen into a ravine. Only blind luck and his reflexes saved him from death. Then he trudged back here to be tended by Sierra.

Annoyed, he glared at her sleeping form as she huddled next to him. The way her hands had lingered on his body and her constant meaningful stares indicated to him she very much wanted him romantically. Well, she might be cute, but that didn’t compensate for her general stupidity. He wasn’t interested in her in the least. But he did appreciate her help with his shoulder.

Her eyes fluttered open. She coiled against him and sighed.

“How are you feeling?”

“My shoulder hurts. Especially with you leaning against me.”

“I’m sorry.” She quickly sat. “Your clothes are over there. I tried to wash out the blood and hang them up, but they’re still pretty wet.”

“They’ll have to do.” He groaned as a thousand miniature agonies along his body competed with his shoulder to see which could hurt worse. “We’re leaving.”

“We are?” Sierra’s eyes brightened. “You mean, you finally decided to trust me?”

“I’ve decided to trust your family.” Derek pulled on his pants, trying to ignore the way Sierra stared at him with wanton lust. “We’re bringing them here. It’s far more secure of a base than the cabin. And the MRE will get us through the winter, even if it lasts a few extra years.”

“Yuck.”

“You should be thankful for any food right now. There are millions of people starving around the world. I got as lucky as you can get, finding this place. I don’t have to share it. I could shoot you right now and spend plenty of time holed up in here. The food would last years if I were the only one eating it.”

“That’s a selfish thought,” she grumbled.

He snorted and finished dressing. Together, they made their way back to the entrance of the shelter. Icy wind whipped past the door, making his shoulder ache. He did his best to ignore the pain and soldier on. Pain he could deal with. Sierra’s nonstop babbling, on the other hand, threatened to drive him mad.

“I can’t believe I dressed your wound. My dad would be so proud of me. Are you going to tell him? No, never mind. I’ll tell him. Personally, I think you and I make a good team. Like, we complement each other, you know?”

“No.”

Sierra continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “I mean, I’ve dated a lot of guys, but they were all boys. You, though, you’re a man. A strong man, like my dad. Say, do you think you could beat my dad in a fight? I mean, probably not, but I bet you’d give him hell—”

“Shh.” Derek froze. He shot out a restraining hand to halt Sierra’s progress. “Did you hear something?”

Derek grabbed his gun while Sierra cocked her head to the side quizzically.

“No, I didn’t hear anything—”

A single shot rang out in the frigid mountain air.

10

One day before …

Kyle followed a step behind his mother as they navigated the tricky mountain terrain roughly a mile to the east of their cabin. A memory of his younger self,