Read Survival Colony 9 for Free Online

sending me down inside, but the walls fell away steeply and the rock looked precarious. He made me hunt around the edge anyway.
    “Seems clean,” I told him when I was done.
    “Check again,” he said.
    I dropped to the dust and searched once more for signs I couldn’t see.
    We strolled back to the others when he was satisfied with my inspection. “Something about this place,” he said. “Familiar. Like I’ve heard someone talk about it before.”
    He shook his head, remembering, not remembering. He’d told me stories about what cities used to look like, with shining towers of steel and legions of cars streaming down the avenues. But he’d never seen one himself, not that he could remember. Only the old woman had, and the holes in her memory gaped as wide as the cracks in the houses that were left.
    When we returned to the others, I could feel the anticipation in the air. No one budged, but all eyes zeroed in on him.
    “Aleka,” he said. “Report.”
    “No sign,” she said. “And Laman—there’s food.”
    The magic word shivered through the crowd. His face remained composed, but I saw his eyes light up. “Where?”
    Aleka led the two of us to the structure farthest from the nucleus of camp, a windowless square of gray cinderblock overlooking the hill’s eastern edge. My dad said it looked like a bomb shelter, but even if bombs had been flying or Skaldi breathing down our necks, there was nowhere near enough room for our whole camp. Probably it had belonged to a single family in the time before. It seemed to be the only building in the compound with working locks, two in fact, one in front and one on a trapdoor that led to a basement level. But the doors stood open, the deadbolts sprung. A flight of rickety wooden stairs led below. And in a corner of the basement, on the packed dirt floor, sat a pyramid of wooden cases filled with rusty metal cans.
    “You’re sure it’s edible?” my dad asked, holding one of the cans up in the glow of Aleka’s flashlight.
    “According to Tyris, properly canned goods have an effective shelf life of forever,” she answered. “But Laman . . .”
    He lowered the can. “I’m listening.”
    “It might be best to take what we can carry and go. I’m not . . . comfortable here. We’re exposed. There’s only one way out. If they were to block the road—”
    “Not their typical behavior,” he said. “And you told me the perimeter’s clean.”
    “So far as we can ascertain,” she said. “But this room—I suspect it’s been looted.” She shone her flashlight on the floor, revealing parallel tracks where cases had been dragged. “We may not be the only colony to have visited this place.”
    “And the ones who beat us to it are plainly gone,” he replied. “Driven away by Skaldi, most likely. Leaving nothing but food the Skaldi won’t return for.”
    “Unless they return for us.”
    My dad stared. “You believe they laid a trap?”
    “I’m merely suggesting we be cautious,” Aleka returned, her face showing not the slightest quaver under his dark eyes’ scrutiny. “The provisions are what we need. Let’s transfer what we can to the trucks and go.”
    He shook his head. “These are Skaldi we’re talking about, Aleka. They don’t strategize. They just feed.”
    “Are you willing to take that chance?”
    My dad’s face reddened and he opened his mouth to respond, but then he seemed to become aware of me. “Querry,” he said softly, “would you mind stepping outside?”
    I waited by the door for ten minutes. The sound of their conversation drifted from within, their voices low and calm. The words escaped me. When they emerged, my dad first, Aleka following, I could read nothing in their eyes.
    But I knew he’d won.
    We walked back to the group waiting by the trucks. If anything, the delay had made them even more anxious for my dad’s command.
    “All right, people,” he said. “You know what to do.”
    Instantly, everyone sprang into action.