Read A Town Called America for Free Online Page A

very often. The table was narrow and just big enough for three people to sit comfortably. On the table two small candles flickered, lighting the room just enough to see for movement and to give a calming glow to the three people who were passing food and chitchatting.
    The RV was nearly twenty-five feet long and seven feet wide. Inside the vehicle the table fit with just enough room for a chair on each side. From the cabin Rick had removed a long narrow countertop, as well as a gas stove and a fridge, all of which were now next to the dinner table.
    Farther down the thin corridor was a couch next to a wood-burning stove. The warmth from the stove gave the small space a comforting feeling that helped ease the tension of being in such a cramped space for long periods. At the far end were three more rooms. Two rooms had bunk beds, and the other had a larger bed that could accommodate two people. The inside walls were made from cheap plywood, as the 1970s RV, even new, never had been a high-end model.
    Under each of the two bunk beds were storage shelves from the floor to the bottom of each bunk. Food, supplies, tools, and batteries filled the spaces completely. A thin set of stairs was in the center of the RV, across from the tiny bathroom that was big enough for one person to barely fit in. Unfortunately, however, they had to use the outdoorsas their bathroom, as the RV didn’t have plumbing. The stairs led to a four-by-four-foot hatch on the ceiling that was the only exit.
    The three people sat in the room, eating their meal and trying to enjoy one another’s company. Other than small talk, not much had been said between the three lately. They all felt trapped and alone. Seldom did any of them leave the tiny, confined space unless they were gathering wood or food.
    Nearly a year before, Rick had found Shawn lying in a ditch, after he had crashed his Harley on some ice near the cabin. Rick had brought him to the cabin, where he and Chris had tended to him until he fully healed. After seeing the destruction of the town and the world outside, all three had decided to make drastic changes in their lives.
    The large hole adjacent the cabin that had been intended for a garage was now gone. Rick, like the cabin’s previous owner, had wanted a three-car garage that would give him room to work on vehicles as well as room for a shop. The hole, dug for the foundation, was near fifty feet long and twenty feet wide.
    In the months after the destruction of Brick Creek, the three had worked hard to bury the RV with dirt until only a small hatch showed through the ground.
    All three intentionally destroyed the cabin to try to keep outsiders away. The shed, on the other hand, had been burned to the ground by a squatter who had thought it was a good idea to make a fire inside it. However, the burned shed did give would-be intruders the idea that there wasn’t anything left of value, and hopefully any nosy people would just move on. Their new home was, for the most part, secure—far from luxurious but secure.
    In the early days, a few times people did make their way to the cabin, whether to look for shelter or to loot. It didn’t matter, however, because Rick wouldn’t take the chance on any unwelcome visitors. On more than one occasion, someone had shown up, and things had turned violent. Violence wasn’t what Rick—or any of them—wanted, but in his mind, he had no choice given the circumstances.
    Shawn argued that if they killed someone, there was no point in surviving because they’d be no better than the M.M. Rick and Shawndidn’t see eye to eye on that topic. Rick couldn’t understand his logic; he firmly believed every man had the right to protect himself and his property.
    The one thing Rick and Chris had kept from Shawn was that Rick had been in the military. They both knew that if Shawn ever found out, a permanent wedge would be driven between them from that moment on. Shawn wasn’t a supporter of any military of any kind.