Read After: Whiteout (AFTER post-apocalyptic series, Book 4) for Free Online Page A

anything happens, you might be able to see well
enough to run for your life.”
    “Or
blind the people that want to kill me?”
    Hilyard
chuckled. “That, too. This is a handheld flare, so pop this cap and yank this
thing here at the bottom.” He guided DeVontay’s hands along the flare. “It’ll
burn for about three minutes.”
    “Heard
anything from Campbell?”
    “I
went out to check on him at midnight. He was shivering and pissed off, but he
was awake. I told him the cold was a blessing.”
    “He’s
pissed off in general, as far as I can tell.”
    “I
picked up a little tension between you guys. What’s that all about?”
    “Nothing.”
DeVontay was suddenly eager to be out of the lean-to. Even in the dark,
claustrophobia squeezed at him from all sides.
    “I
need to know what I’m getting into here, DeVontay. I didn’t have to take you
people on.”
    This
is silly. Like high-school bullshit. “He
wanted to play white knight for Rachel, but…she already had a black one.”
    Hilyard
sighed. “The world ends and people are still people. The human race never had a
chance, did it?”
    “Sure,
we did. It’s slim, but it’s all we got. And I notice you haven’t surrendered
yet.”
    “I
don’t like to lose.”
    “Neither
do I.” DeVontay gripped the officer’s muscular forearm in the dark, squeezed
it, and crawled through the opening and outside.
    The
air was clear and cold, tiny bits of frozen blue light jabbed into the curtain
of night. The pale wedge of moon was barely visible through the nearly bare
branches. The ground felt heavy and sodden beneath his feet, as if autumn had
downshifted into winter while he slept. He carried the flare in one fisted
hand, the other resting on the butt of the knife Hilyard had given him.
    The
moon provided enough illumination for him to backtrack to where the horses were
tethered. He assumed Campbell would be standing guard there, and he gave a low
whistle as he approached. He didn’t need Campbell panicking and shooting him in
by mistake.
    Or
on purpose, either.
    Campbell didn’t answer. The forest was silent, except for a
soft whinnying from one of the horses. DeVontay pressed himself against a tree
and peered toward the animals. All he saw were the broad, dark flanks of the
animals, their necks bent low.
    “Psst.
Campbell?”
    No
answer. He might have made a circumference of the camp, making sure nobody
approached from high ground. But Hilyard said the craggy terrain would inhibit
advance from any direction but downhill. Given the officer’s tactical training,
DeVontay believed it. However, Zapheads probably hadn’t read any manuals on
military strategy and didn’t seem to care if their bodies were torn and broken
by sharp rocks.
    DeVontay
checked the horses to make sure they were okay. They seemed to be drowsing on
their feet. Nice survival trait. You can break into a run if necessary, or
kick at any predators.
    Then
he noticed that Campbell—or somebody—had loosened the halters. The animals were
free but hadn’t wandered away. That’s odd. We’d talked about releasing them
but Campbell shouldn’t have made a unilateral decision. I don’t like this.
    If Campbell had wanted to break from the group, he would have taken one of the horses. With a
horse and a rifle, he’d have a decent chance to reach the valley and hole up in
an abandoned house. But Campbell had never expressed a desire to go solo. He
wouldn’t leave Rachel, not while he’s still got that goofy crush on her.
    DeVontay
took an oblique angle back toward camp, figuring he’d see Campbell before he
reached the lean-to. If not, he’d keep going to the stacked wall of granite
behind them. Campbell might be stubborn enough to think he could climb it and
view miles of surrounding ridges.
    DeVontay
considered alerting Hilyard and then discarded the idea. The man already felt
burdened by them, and any extra drama might be enough to push him over the
edge. Besides, the man needed rest if he