nothing happened.
Oh well, it was worth a try.
I pulled out the keys and started to get out when a hand grabbed my arm and yanked me out the car, squeezing my arm. I couldn't see my attacker, as I was pulled into a bear hug, and a sweaty hand covered my mouth.
"Trying to go somewhere, little lady? Are you old enough to drive by yourself?" asked a gruff voice. I could tell the man, probably a man, was smiling when he said it. There was a cheery undertone to his speech that was more disturbing than if he sounded angry. A real "Hannibal Lecter" vibe.
This all registered in a flash. The next thing I knew, the guy was crumpled on the ground at my feet, the baton in my right hand and the still-sheathed machete in my left.
Oh man, what did I just do?
I don't know how quickly it happened. It was almost like I blacked out. Seconds? Tens of seconds? It was a move I’d learned in Tae-Kwon-Do, but I don't remember what it's called.
The guy was down, though, that's for sure. I looked around to see if there was anyone else, but no one was looking my way. Mr. D'oh! seemed to be gone, as did his victims. Only one family was visible, sitting in a car that wasn't moving, bags piled high on the top and inside.
I stepped backward a few times, then turned and went back into the house, holstering my weapons. I locked the door behind me and went into the kitchen and splashed cold water on my face. I felt like my whole body would shake apart, so I did my breathing exercises. It took five minutes for the shaking to subside. The longest I'd ever had to breathe like that was in class, for about half an hour or so, but outside of class … usually thirty seconds. The most was two minutes when I had a bad case of the hiccups —that breathing thing worked to get rid of them.
I turned and looked at my two bags and the backpack.
Too much. I can't carry all that and protect myself.
I started to take it all into the living room to sort out, but stopped, dumbfounded. There was blood everywhere … pieces of the Little Ones. The cheap coffee table was smashed, the couch was tipped over. NotMom had attacked them and tore them up. I dropped the bags and ran back to the kitchen and threw up in the sink, crying and choking.
"What is going ON?" I screamed. This was crazy! I mean, I knew intellectually that this is what happened, but seeing it live, in 3D smell-o-vision, was too much.
I sucked some water from the faucet and splashed some on my face.
I needed to get out of there.
I dumped the clothes bag and added back two changes of underwear, one change of cold weather clothes, and my sailing gear. I put on a nylon sweater from the pile, then added a couple of dish towels from the kitchen, and regrettably tossed out the toilet paper. I opened the backpack, but there wasn't anything there I wanted to part with ... except ... I guess the CD’s. They probably wouldn't work anyway, so I put them on the countertop. I stuffed the backpack with all the food that would fit, and put the rest in the first bag, making it about half full. I took out a big coat from the bag and zipped it up, then stuffed the bag in it. I tied the sleeves together at the bottom, then tied the rope around it and through the sleeves. It looked like it would probably hold okay.
This was it. I put on the silly backpack, wrapped a sleeve from the fattened coat around my neck and shoulder, pulled my baton from the belt, and after checking the peephole, opened the door. I wanted to lock it in case someone else made it home, but I didn't want to search near Mr. Grimy Hands for the keys, so I just closed it and left it unlocked.
Seven blocks to the marina. I took a step and started counting.
Chapter 2
—————
Mark
Dad and I were driving home from Boston when the EMP wiped out all the electronics.
We'd just flown back from a survival camping trip in Arkansas. It was okay. I’d learned how to
Oh well, it was worth a try.
I pulled out the keys and started to get out when a hand grabbed my arm and yanked me out the car, squeezing my arm. I couldn't see my attacker, as I was pulled into a bear hug, and a sweaty hand covered my mouth.
"Trying to go somewhere, little lady? Are you old enough to drive by yourself?" asked a gruff voice. I could tell the man, probably a man, was smiling when he said it. There was a cheery undertone to his speech that was more disturbing than if he sounded angry. A real "Hannibal Lecter" vibe.
This all registered in a flash. The next thing I knew, the guy was crumpled on the ground at my feet, the baton in my right hand and the still-sheathed machete in my left.
Oh man, what did I just do?
I don't know how quickly it happened. It was almost like I blacked out. Seconds? Tens of seconds? It was a move I’d learned in Tae-Kwon-Do, but I don't remember what it's called.
The guy was down, though, that's for sure. I looked around to see if there was anyone else, but no one was looking my way. Mr. D'oh! seemed to be gone, as did his victims. Only one family was visible, sitting in a car that wasn't moving, bags piled high on the top and inside.
I stepped backward a few times, then turned and went back into the house, holstering my weapons. I locked the door behind me and went into the kitchen and splashed cold water on my face. I felt like my whole body would shake apart, so I did my breathing exercises. It took five minutes for the shaking to subside. The longest I'd ever had to breathe like that was in class, for about half an hour or so, but outside of class … usually thirty seconds. The most was two minutes when I had a bad case of the hiccups —that breathing thing worked to get rid of them.
I turned and looked at my two bags and the backpack.
Too much. I can't carry all that and protect myself.
I started to take it all into the living room to sort out, but stopped, dumbfounded. There was blood everywhere … pieces of the Little Ones. The cheap coffee table was smashed, the couch was tipped over. NotMom had attacked them and tore them up. I dropped the bags and ran back to the kitchen and threw up in the sink, crying and choking.
"What is going ON?" I screamed. This was crazy! I mean, I knew intellectually that this is what happened, but seeing it live, in 3D smell-o-vision, was too much.
I sucked some water from the faucet and splashed some on my face.
I needed to get out of there.
I dumped the clothes bag and added back two changes of underwear, one change of cold weather clothes, and my sailing gear. I put on a nylon sweater from the pile, then added a couple of dish towels from the kitchen, and regrettably tossed out the toilet paper. I opened the backpack, but there wasn't anything there I wanted to part with ... except ... I guess the CD’s. They probably wouldn't work anyway, so I put them on the countertop. I stuffed the backpack with all the food that would fit, and put the rest in the first bag, making it about half full. I took out a big coat from the bag and zipped it up, then stuffed the bag in it. I tied the sleeves together at the bottom, then tied the rope around it and through the sleeves. It looked like it would probably hold okay.
This was it. I put on the silly backpack, wrapped a sleeve from the fattened coat around my neck and shoulder, pulled my baton from the belt, and after checking the peephole, opened the door. I wanted to lock it in case someone else made it home, but I didn't want to search near Mr. Grimy Hands for the keys, so I just closed it and left it unlocked.
Seven blocks to the marina. I took a step and started counting.
Chapter 2
—————
Mark
Dad and I were driving home from Boston when the EMP wiped out all the electronics.
We'd just flown back from a survival camping trip in Arkansas. It was okay. I’d learned how to
Similar Books
Savage Hunger: Savage, Book 1
Shelli Stevens
A Holiday Romance
Bobbie Jordan
The Frightened Man
Kenneth Cameron
The Atlantis Blueprint
Colin Wilson
Tijuana Nights (The Nights Series Book 1)
Leigh K. Hunt
Little Red
Justin Cairns
Cold Hit
Linda Fairstein
The Coven
Cate Tiernan
The Woman Upstairs
Claire Messud