Afterburn: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (Next Book 1) Read Free Page A

Henderson said. “Spots must be down so there’s less interference.”
    As he adjusted the gain and squelch on the radio, Stephen wasn’t sure if he’d actually heard anything besides white noise. He’d spent so many hours sitting in front of the receiver that he sometimes heard ghosts from the past—canned laughter from television sit-coms, verses of pop songs, political sound bites, and aviation chatter. Once he thought he’d heard his mother, which was impossible, because she’d died five years before and left her ten-year-old son trapped in a hotel full of Zaps.
    But now he had an aural witness, someone to confirm the voices. Marina Jiminez gave him a skeptical look as the radio hissed again.
    “ Alpha One Niner, do you copy?”
    Stephen noted the third repetition of the query in his logbook, and then marked the time: 7:49 p.m. None of them were sure of the exact time, but using calendars and moon phases, they’d made a decent guess of the date and then used sunrise and sunset to synchronize wind-up clocks and wristwatches. It wasn’t Greenwich Mean Time but it was close enough. Stephen didn’t think accuracy mattered, but crotchety old Franklin Wheeler made synchronicity sound like the linchpin on which the return of civilization depended.
    The radio hissed and crackled, filling the closet space that served as the telecommunications room. The unit had been busted by a gunshot, but they’d managed to patch it together enough to get a weak signal.
    “I guess we’re Alpha One Nine,” Marina said. She was a year younger than Stephen and wasn’t lucky enough to lose her parents in the Big Zap. No, they had been killed by the freaks almost before her eyes.
    Dang it. Can’t really call them “freaks” anymore, since they’re part of the family.
    Stephen glanced at the almond-skinned infant that dangled from Marina’s shoulders in a sling. Kokona’s exotic, slanted eyes sparked as she grinned toothlessly at him.
    “That’s what Franklin says,” Stephen said. “Alpha One Nine is just one of the bunkers in their chain.”
    “That’s why we have to maintain radio silence,” Marina said. “If they figure out anyone’s here, they’ll want their bunker back.”
    Stephen touched the handset mic that lay on the desk. The mic was connected by a coiled, duct-taped cable. “Would that be so awful? We’re out of C-Rats and MRE’s, and the batteries for our solar array are on their last legs. It won’t be long until we’re boiling our mattresses for stew.”
    Marina shook her head. “Rachel and DeVontay will score something good. They always do.”
    “Slim Jims,” Kokona said, patting her chubby little hands together with delight.
    Even after all these years, Stephen was still slightly startled whenever the infant spoke. Like other infant Zaps, Kokona was highly intelligent and perceptive. Nobody knew if the old rules still held true, but the youngest Zaps were tribal leaders and the quickest to evolve and adapt. Even creepier, Zaps didn’t age, so unless some weird new radiation emerged, Kokona would remain fourteen pounds of strangeness.
    Luckily, Kokona was distant enough from the rest of her kind to avoid telepathic influence. Stephen didn’t know what they would do if Kokona asserted her dominance. Hopefully Rachel could serve as an early-warning system, given that the woman was half-Zap herself.
    Marina frowned at him, narrowing her dark eyes. Man, why did I get stuck with the weirdest family ever? And why does she sort of have to be my sister?
    The radio squawked again: “ Copy, Alpha One Niner .”
    “Let me,” Stephen said.
    “Franklin told us not to.”
    Stephen flashed a devilish grin. “I don’t see Franklin, do you? He’s holed up in his compound with his books and goats and buried gold. Nobody will ever know.”
    “We’ll know,” Kokona said. The baby looked up at Marina. “ Si, chiquita ?”
    “ Si, niña .”
    Stephen was annoyed whenever they spoke Spanish, because he