Apocalypse Atlanta (Book 4): Apocalypse Asylum Read Free

of pain that was leaving her face as he met her gaze once more.
    “Unless a big horde wanders in from somewhere, there shouldn’t be any problem with that.” Peter nodded.  “Of course, we’re not that far from Atlanta, so that mythical big horde could turn up any time if we get unlucky.”
    “We’re lucky.” she shrugged.  “So far, anyway.  Also, I’m told this is a good time to start hunting.”
    “For?” Peter asked leadingly, ignoring the way she’s shifted subjects so quickly.  That was one of her habits, and he’d grown used to keeping up with her mental switchovers.
    “Deer, boar, whatever.” she shrugged, flipping a hand casually toward the wall.  “I’ve got nearly twenty guys on the census who say they’re experienced hunters, and a couple of them were in here earlier explaining how they were pretty sure they’d be able to start bringing in some fresh meat.”
    Peter considered that for a few seconds.  He wasn’t a hunter himself, but he figured fall was when it was usually done; something about how the animals were fattened up in preparation for the coming winter.  But most of the animals would be out in the woods and really rural areas.  For all Cumming looked like hickville to city acclimated folks, it was still a town; rural or not.  The hunting would have to take place out in the sticks; the real sticks.  Anyone who went out after fresh meat would be on their own.
    Still, food was food.  And it sounded like they were mostly volunteering.
    “They know how to, I don’t know, butcher what they bring down?  Assuming they bag anything?”
    “Some of them.  And even if they don’t, I’ve got three proper butchers on my list too.  And with the generators, I don’t see a problem storing whatever they get.  We’ve got locks on the tanks at five nearby gas stations, and they’ve all been treated.  The fuel should hold out at least until spring.  Probably more once it gets cold and the weather starts working with us for food storage, rather than complicating everything with heat.”
    “Sounds like a plan then.” Peter nodded.
    “You don’t see any problem with it?”
    “They’re taking a risk — anyone who leaves the camp is — but as long as they stay in groups and are careful it should be a manageable one.”
    “They wanted to start tomorrow.”
    He nodded.  “Let me have their names.  I’ll talk to Whitley, and we’ll make sure they know how to look after themselves while they’re out.”
    Sawyer leaned back in her chair and stretched lethargically.  “No one ever told me running an operation with this many people in it could be so tiring.  All I do is sit in this chair most of the day, but by the time it gets dark I’m exhausted.”
    “Being responsible for a whole mess of refugees isn’t a walk in the park.” Peter nodded.  “I’ve never had these kinds of numbers reporting to me, but I know how tough it is tending to a few hundred, even when I had support services to call on.”
    “Tell me about it.  Which reminds me, Lorren was in here last night outlining a plan to park fuel trucks on-site.”
    “What, tank trailers?”
    “Yeah.”
    Peter frowned.  “Filling one of those would take, I don’t know, hours.”
    Sawyer gestured at one of the papers on her desk.  “He ran some numbers; wants to yank some of those well pumps we spotted outside of town.  Says if we do that, we could pump one full in less than a day.”
    “Jesus, that’s a lot of hand pumping.  Gonna have to switch people out on them every ten or fifteen minutes I bet; that means a big team.”
    “Actually, I think we’ve got the manpower to throw at something like that.  What I was really worried about was the risk of having a couple of trailers parked anywhere onsite full of combustibles.”
    “That’s not really a risk.”
    “But—” she started, but Peter broke in.
    “I know, I know; gas explodes, right?  Not really.  Worst case, if someone doesn’t respect