Finding Home - A Post Apocalyptic Novel (The Ravaged Land Series Book 2) Read Free

This guy couldn’t move and I was still paranoid about what he might do. The half-dead guy lying on my floor couldn’t even grasp a knife to defend himself if his life depended on it.
    “Please,” he whispered as he tried to force his eyes to open wider.
    “Don’t. Just lay still. I’ll be right back,” I said as I stood and walked quickly to the kitchen. I opened the cupboard where I stored Sienna’s toaster pastries. It was almost as if I was keeping them tucked away for when she got here. I rarely ate them. Truth be told, I didn’t care for them, but you know, beggars can’t be choosers and all that. If it came down to it, I’d eat them. I grabbed one for the guy on the floor because it was something quick that I could break into small pieces and feed him. I knew Sienna wouldn’t care. Heck, she didn’t even know they were here waiting for her.
    I sat down next to him crossing my legs in front of me. My fingers struggled to tear open the package, so I ripped it open using my teeth. I didn’t figure he would mind, and I didn’t even care if he did. If he didn’t like the toaster pastries I’d opened with my mouth, he could go find something to eat elsewhere. I broke off a small corner and pressed it against his lips. He forced his mouth to open, and I dropped the tiny morsel of food inside. He sucked on the cold doughy piece of pastry. After a minute or two he started to mash it between his teeth and then he grimaced when he attempted to swallow it down.
    “Water?” he asked as his fingers stretched out as if he was trying to find the bottle himself. I picked it up and poured the liquid gently between his parted lips, paying close attention to follow his pace so I didn’t make him choke.
    “What’s your name?” I asked as I broke off another piece of the pastry for him. This time he moved the piece of food around much easier than he had with the first small chunk.
    I watched him swallow the small bite of food with a struggled gulp. “Penn,” he said and then coughed several times. Even coughing used up too much of the little energy he had left. He settled himself, closed his eyes and laid still as if he had to recover.
    Before I could ask him anything else, he fell asleep. Right there on the hard wood floor. I knew he was asleep because it was easy to see his thin chest moving up and down with each slow breath. They seemed further apart than I thought they should be, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it either.
    I leaned back and grabbed a pillow from the recliner behind me. I carefully slid it under his head trying not to disturb him. Letting him rest on the floor would be much easier than trying to wake him and getting him onto the sofa. I got up, and sat in the recliner watching him as he slept. My hand was poised near my waistband just in case I’d have to pull out my gun. I didn’t want to use it, and I wasn’t even sure I could use it well enough. But nonetheless if it came down to it, I’d sure as hell try.
    My eyelids felt heavier and heavier as I watched his chest slowly rise and fall with each inhale and exhale. It was almost as if he was hypnotizing me. I started to doze off, but I abruptly blinked and tried to force myself to stay awake. It only lasted a few minutes before there wasn’t anything I could do to keep my eyes open.
     
     
    * * *
     
     
    When I woke up, I was still sitting in the chair with my head resting on my loosely closed hand, but the guy, Penn, wasn’t on the floor. For a second I wondered if maybe it had been a dream, but then I saw the toaster pastry wrapper on the floor. My hand moved as fast as a bolt of lightning to get my gun out. I pointed it wildly in every direction as my eyes darted around the room. Out of the corner of my eye I saw movement. He ducked behind the wall near the bathroom.
    “Don’t shoot!” he pleaded in a raspy, weak voice. “I was just using your bathroom!”
    I lowered the gun and tucked it back into my waistband.