EMP Catastrophe by Hamilton, Grace (best ebook reader for pc .txt) 📕

and touched Kathleen’s hand. She realized he meant they would talk about much more than food, if he had anything to say about it.

“I just don’t know who we can trust,” Matthew finished, meeting Kathleen’s gaze.

She didn’t know either.

10

As Max walked through the empty streets of Chicago, he felt like an imposter. Even though he wore civilian clothes, he still felt out of place. He kept looking over his shoulder, convinced that someone on the street would pass him, pause, and recognize him. That they’d point and call out that he was an escaped convict. That he had the look of a dangerous delinquent and needed to be incarcerated. When he was in prison, he didn’t feel like he belonged, but he never expected that the feeling would follow him out into the real world.

As he continued to walk, he noticed even more abandoned cars blocking the road, as if they’d suddenly come to a standstill while waiting at a red light. He’d barely seen another living soul since his escape. At one point, he’d passed a young couple digging through a dumpster. He’d hightailed it away from them, and they had seemed just as skittish of him.

His stomach growled and he grimaced. At least he had clothes, but if he was going to walk all the way from Chicago to Galena, he needed to find supplies. Especially something to eat. A map so he could chart where he was going. Maybe he’d be able to find a bike or even someone who had a working car that he could hitch a ride with. He’d have to lie to them about who he was, but at this point, something as meaningless as that didn’t bother him. He was already an escaped prisoner. He’d be lying to everyone at this point.

Up ahead, he spotted a corner gas station. He swallowed hard, hating that he would have to shoplift his supplies, but as he got closer he discovered that the shop had already been ransacked. The windows had been smashed in. The door dangled precariously off of one hinge. He eased his way inside, hopeful that something might remain for him. A strange sticky substance coated the floor and stuck to his shoes. The cash register stood open and upon further inspection, he found most of the cash was gone except for a roll of quarters stuck in the far back. He pocketed the money and kept his head down just in case there were cameras watching him. It was an absurd fear, but he still felt grateful for the dark night obscuring his face from anyone who might be watching him.

A small display of lighters sat next to the cash register. He pocketed one of them and then spotted a rotating wire display near the edge of the front counter. Maps sat askew in the metal holders. He picked one up and stuffed it into his bag. After inspecting the rest of the aisles, he didn’t find any food on the empty shelves, but he did discover a first aid kit stuck under one of the shelves. Bending down, he picked it up and was pleased to find that it was still sealed. It must have been flung off the shelves when the gas station was being ransacked, and had been forgotten. He hadn’t found much, but at least it was a solid starting place.

Now, if only he could find something to eat.

He left the gas station quickly and continued on his way. The streetlights were out and when he looked up, he was surprised at how many stars he could see. Soon, he came upon a second bigger gas station. This one seemed to still be somewhat operational, even though the insides were dark and lit by flashlights and candles. When he walked inside, he saw some people picking out items and scoffing at the high prices. He doubted his roll of quarters would go very far.

But at least there was food there.

He meandered up and down the aisles, trying to look frustrated and innocent—as if he couldn’t find what he was looking for and his hopes had been dashed. He scooped up a bag of beef jerky and trail mix and then tossed the remaining Snickers bars from the aisle end cap into his half-opened bag that he had slung over one shoulder. The candy felt misshapen in his hands, as though the chocolate had melted and re-hardened. He began to ease his way toward the drinks when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

His breath caught in his chest. Had someone recognized him? The grip on his shoulder tightened and then whipped him around. His worst fears were confirmed as he stood face to face with the guard he’d betrayed. Eric.

In the dim glow of the candles and flashlights, Eric’s black eyes narrowed in rage. Dark purple and blue bruises covered one side of his forehead. “Is this what you do with your freedom?” Eric hissed. “You piece of convict scum, you nearly give me a concussion and this is what you do? Steal?”

“I’m so sorry,” Max blurted out. He could still hear Eric talking about his son and felt shame redden his cheeks.

“I got fired because of you,” Eric snarled and dropped the shopping basket he held. Candlelight flickered over his cheeks. “I don’t have a way to feed my family because of you.”

“I’m so sorry,” Max repeated. Fear seeped inside of him. “I had to get out. I was going to be killed in there if I didn’t.”

“Then you should have been!” Eric yelled. He lifted his closed fist and cocked his elbow back.

Endless beatings from Colin had made Max no stranger to violence. Eric was going to punch the living daylights out of him. He knew the look. As Eric swung his arm back, Max wrenched sharply back and used his weight to throw off Eric’s punch. Eric’s fist barely grazed Max’s cheek before Max twisted to the side and dislodged the grip Eric