Last Stand (The Survivalist Book 7) Read Free Page B

man’s arms grew stiff, and then everything relaxed, his legs crumpling beneath him.
    Leila instinctively froze, closing her eyes as bullets whizzed within inches of her face. When she heard Lincoln fall, she turned and found Mason dusting off the knees of his trousers.
    “You okay?” she asked.
    “Fine. You?”
    She used the back of her hand to wipe the last bit of saliva from her cheek.
    “I’m tired of being licked, but otherwise, yes, I’m good.”
    Bowie wandered over to inspect Lincoln, taking a long moment to sniff a wet stain spreading across the man’s crotch.
    “I’m curious about something,” said Leila.
    “What’s that?”
    “When he demanded that you give up your gun, did you consider it? Even for a second?”
    Mason inserted a fresh magazine, let the slide go forward, and holstered the pistol.
    “The way I see it, there are times when things aren’t going to end well no matter what you do. Might as well hang onto your gun.”
    “I get that,” she said softly. “But how did you know he wouldn’t shoot me?”
    “I didn’t.”
    She cut her eyes at him. “That’s not very reassuring.”
     “Perhaps not, but I figured you’d rather take a bullet in the gut than spend a single minute in there with him.” Mason nodded toward the trailer. “Was I mistaken?”
    “No,” she said, bending down to pick up her Beretta, “you most certainly were not.”

Chapter 2  
     
     
    Samantha awoke to the sound of dried wood crackling in the fireplace. The room was already warm, and there was the unmistakable odor of coffee brewing. She sat up and pushed off the blanket. The living room of the Abner Cloud House was empty except for their bedrolls and backpacks.
    “Tanner?”
    There was no answer.
    She leaned over and picked up the Savage .22 rifle.
    “Tanner?” she said again, louder this time.
    Still nothing. More than likely he had gone outside to pee. The man had a bladder the size of a walnut.
    She stood up and moved closer to the fire. A small pot hung from a swinging crane arm. She used a rag draped on a hook beside the fireplace to peek under the lid. Inside was a wet mash that looked like soupy worm dirt. No doubt Tanner was brewing another batch of his “cowboy coffee.” She set the lid back in place. If coffee was brewing, he was somewhere nearby.
    Her stomach growled.
    She glanced at the backpack lying beside Tanner’s bedroll. There were pouches of various freeze-dried foods inside, including chili mac and beef stroganoff, neither of which sounded particularly appetizing for breakfast. What she really wanted was pancakes, with butter and warm maple syrup.
    Her stomach let out another rumble.
    “Fine,” she said, “we’ll eat. But let’s find Tanner first.”
    She went to the front window, pushed aside the curtains, and peered out. Tanner was kneeling beside the canal that ran behind the historic house. There was something big and white dangling from one of his hands. It looked like a pillowcase, but she couldn’t be sure.
    She grinned. “Probably stealing Dr. Jarvis’s silver and burying it out in the yard.” Tanner was not above taking anything that he thought might prove useful.
    Before going outside to investigate, Samantha decided to clean up a bit. She retrieved her toothbrush and carefully scrubbed her teeth, spitting the paste and excess water into the fire. Next, she took a rag, poured a little bottled water over it and washed her face, neck, and underarms. Finally, she attempted to tame her tangle of hair using an ornate brush that she had picked up when they were staying at the Naval Observatory. When that failed miserably, she opted instead to pull it back into a tight pony tail. With basic hygiene taken care of, she put everything back away and headed outside to check on Tanner.
    The early morning air felt cool as she stepped from the cozy home. It was still officially summer, but falling leaves and brisk evenings foretold of weather that was soon to change. Birds