Until We End Read Free

echoing blare in the cobblestone streets — until the cat skittered away.
    That little girl’s body was
fresh
. That meant that there were still people out here, alive, trying to survive. But where were they? The city seemed deserted.
    The second I saw the square blue sign directing me toward the interstate, my heart got lighter. It was a long drive from the city to the springs, and the thought of Coby waiting alone at home, curled under his blankets and crying, made me press the accelerator harder.
    My breath came easier as Savannah faded behind me. Contrary to the reek of death in the city, the countryside was revitalized by the absence of people. Rolling pastures that were once filled with grazing black and white cows and bales of hay had been overgrown by kudzu and brushwood. The grass, a deep, vibrant green, grew almost as tall as the worn-down fences surrounding the fields.
    I pulled the surgical mask off my face and, squinting against the sunlight, rolled the window down. I smiled as a small bubble of exhilaration rose in my chest.
    For the first time in nearly nine months, I was out of the house. There was no radio to fill the silence, but quiet didn’t bother me anymore. The solitude settled around my shoulders like a blanket.
    It only took thirty minutes to get to Chatham Springs, half the time it would’ve taken with traffic. I parked the truck in a gravel lot off the highway, got out of the cab and stood for a moment, just looking.
    The spring formed a deep pool, fed by a river far underground. Its water was bright blue around the edges and faded to the color of midnight in the center. A thick band of pine trees framed the spring, tingeing the air with their fresh, clean scent.
    I strode to the edge of the spring, pebbles crunching under my boots, and splashed my face with the deliciously cold water.
    Pre-TEOTWAWKI, the spring was open to the public. In the long summer days, bursts of children’s laughter would bounce off the rocky shores of the pool and echo into the woods. Sweethearts would meet here at night. But on this perfect day in the middle of July, it was deserted.
    I pulled off my boots, unbuckled my holster and jumped into the spring feet first. The icy water crashed against my chest and stole my breath, but I didn’t fight it. I curled into a ball and let myself sink.
    My lungs throbbed and the tips of my fingers began to prickle. I opened my eyes. My hair floated around me in a cloud, its dirty blonde turned white against the murky water.
    I uncurled and let my arms float toward the surface, where the sun shone like a spotlight on the water. When I felt my toes touch the sloping sand, I pushed back up with every ounce of strength in my legs, sputtering as my head broke the surface, lungs inflating in relief.
    Gravel scraped my arms as I pulled myself out of the water. I lay on the shore shivering for a few minutes — longer than I should have — and let the sun warm me.
    Dad used to take us here on Sundays. When I was younger, he would swim me out to the deeper part of the spring and toss me screaming into the air, and I’d crash back down into the water. We’d go home sun-scorched and covered in mosquito bites and happy.
    I sighed and turned my face to the sun, letting its rays sink into my skin.
    And then.
    The sound of gravel crunching behind me jerked me from my thoughts. A guy — over six feet tall, brawny and broad through the shoulders — stood there.
    I didn’t pause to think. Adrenaline slammed into my body, electrifying my muscles into action. I whipped around, hand flying to where I’d dropped my holster, but it was missing. I turned back to face him slowly.
    My holster was slung across his shoulder and a semi-automatic assault rifle hung loosely at his side.
    â€œDon’t panic, sweetheart,” he said, white teeth flashing against tanned skin in a predatory smile. “I won’t hurt you if you do exactly what I tell you