Read Progtopia: Book 1 of The Progtopia Trilogy for Free Online Page B

on the floor right outside the tub while Camille suspended all thought. She washed what little hair she had left, never thinking she would miss such a pleasure.
    Once finished, she stepped over to the mirror, wiping the steam away. The face staring back at her was almost unrecognizable. She had scars on her cheeks. Her hair was short and dark. As tears formed in her eyes, Bailey came over and pushed his nose into her side as he gave a little bark. Looking down at his face, she couldn’t help but laugh. This dog wanted her full attention. She got on her knees and started rubbing his neck. Bailey returned the favor by licking her face.
    “At least there’s someone who doesn’t want to see me dead. Are you going to be my protector?” Bailey responded with a bark. “I sure hope that was a yes.”
    Once Camille was all cleaned up and dressed, she headed downstairs. The scent of bacon and eggs filled her nostrils, making her stomach growl. She was starving, and realized just how little she ate over the last few weeks. Coming around the corner into the kitchen, she caught sight of Barbara standing at the stove and a man sitting at the table. He was looking down at his coffee. She stopped dead in her tracks. It was all coming back to her. He was the one in her apartment, but when she last saw him, he looked different—with a beard, disheveled, homeless. Today, he was normal, even attractive for a man of his age.
    The man looked up and smiled. “Hey there!” he said.
    “Hi,” she said timidly. Unsure of who these people were.
    “Camille, I just thank God you are about as good of a shot as your father used to be, or I wouldn’t be here right now,” he said, laughing, trying to make her feel at ease.
    “You know my dad?” At that moment, Camille’s heart started to ache. She just wanted to be home with her parents and brother.
    The man stood, revealing his muscular physique. He walked over to the chair nearest Camille, pulling it away from the table. “Why don’t you take a seat?” he said, pointing to the chair. “And we can try to explain what’s going on here.”
    Barbara chimed in as she was fixing the plate of bacon and eggs, “Honey, we won’t bite.”
    Camille had a million thoughts running through her head. How did this old lady and black dude end up in the middle of nowhere?
    Her curiosity for answers, however, was overpowered by hunger. The smells of the kitchen distracted her. Taking the man’s suggestion, she took a seat with Bailey not far behind settling next to her feet. Barbara placed a plate full of scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, and toast in front of Camille.
    “Would you like some coffee or orange juice?”
    “Juice, please.”
    Barbara grabbed a glass for her then settled next to Camille.
    The stranger introduced himself. “Camille, my name is Mr. Franklin. I feel like I already know you. Your father talked about you all of the time. We served together in the same unit. The Middle Eastern War,” he said, shaking his head, eyes sad. “Yep, those were good men I served with. Your dad and I were close.”
    “I never knew,” Camille said almost in a whisper. “My dad never talked about the War. It was almost like it never happened—except the whole world knew what happened.”
    “Yes, it did,” said Franklin. “Poor Israel,” he said shaking his head. “When they needed us most, we abandoned them.”
    “Listen, mister, I don’t mean to be rude, but I really don’t care. I just want to get home to see my parents.”
    “I know you do.” He looked to Barbara for help.
    “Camille,” said Barbara, “I’m sure all of this is hard for you. Give us a chance to explain.”
    Camille, aware that she was a captive audience, withdrew and folded her arms. “Fine, finish your story.”
    “Like I was saying, I served with your dad. Seems so long ago.” Mr. Franklin stood up and walked over to get more coffee. “I should’ve known the day your dad and I were standing on the ship and