EMP Catastrophe by Hamilton, Grace (books to read in your 20s female .txt) 📗

want to argue, and took out the cash, gave David half. David stuffed the cash under the footbed of his new hiking boots and slipped his foot inside. Matthew followed suit with a shake of his head, feeling silly again, but realized that sometimes he had to bend a bit to others to make things easier. They had their supplies and their cash, and that was more than he thought they’d have after the trip to the store. Together, they looked out over the rise of box stores and asphalt parking lots, and began the long walk home.

8

Max’s statement shocked Kathleen, and suddenly the predatory looks of the guards and the other inmates had far more dangerous implications. Her mouth opened in fear even as her words dried up in the back of her throat. She wanted to tell Max that she’d protect him, she’d take him away from this place, she’d keep him safe—same as she would for her children or her husband—until she realized she couldn’t. Never before had that realization hit her so strongly: that Max wasn’t a man with the same freedoms as the rest of them. Allison scooted closer to her, saying, “Mom?” in a tone reserved for a much younger girl. Kathleen clapped her jaw shut and swallowed hard.

Max kept eye contact with her until one of the guards walked by, flicking the tab open and closed on his Taser holster. Flip snap, flip snap. Max looked away and pulled back from Kathleen, almost as if his previous command for her to leave had never happened. Time became a slippery thing as the guards continued to call for orders through their radios, receiving nothing but silence and static. The visitors shifted nervously, leaning both forward and away from their imprisoned loved ones. Kathleen had a selfish notion deep inside her that she didn’t belong behind these concrete walls, that she and Allison were meant to be outside in the sun, not breathing recycled air. That they were being kept against their will.

Across the room, she caught sight of a woman a bit older than Ruth—gray hair cut into a bob, turtleneck high on her thick neck, who looked up at the guards as if wanting to ask a question. Beside her sat a gangly boy looking like the spitting image of the inmate Kathleen assumed was his father, sitting across from them. The boy pushed into his grandmother’s side. She opened her trembling mouth and said in a warble, “Excuse me—”

“Excuse me,” the inmate—her son, most likely—cut in, his dark gaze directed first to his family and then up to the guard. He shifted in discomfort, his clothes sounding like paper towels being rubbed together. “We’ve been here a long time. My family needs to leave soon. Any chance one of you could check in with the warden and see what’s the holdup?”

Flip snap. Flip snap. “What did you ask me?” The guard stepped closer. Barely grown, Kathleen thought in a daze, noticing the smooth cheeks and eyes clear of crow’s feet. Barely a man.

“Didn’t we just announce we were on lockdown?” Flip snap. “Were you too busy talking to hear that no one can leave until the power comes back on?” Flip snap.

The man raised his hands in submission. “I was only asking for an update.”

“Well, here’s your update: you will be quiet and stay seated if you know what’s good for you.” Flip snap.

The inmate turned back to his family with his head down. A silence descended over the room. Hot anger built inside Kathleen. They couldn’t treat the inmates like they just treated that woman, could they? What would happen if they were stuck in here for longer? What would it be like to be...imprisoned with those guards watching you day and night? Voices slowly filtered into the room: murmurs alongside tight whispers of worry and anger. Heads came closer together. Hands clasped hands tightly. Kathleen turned to Allison. Allison studied her with wide blue eyes, similarly shocked at the poor treatment of the visitors.

Kathleen glanced at Max and grabbed his hand under the table, squeezing it tightly. He squeezed back, giving her that tight smile meant to console. “Kathy,” he began, but another visitor stood up: a younger man about Matthew’s age in a slick jersey supporting some hockey team and cargo pants. The man said, “This is ridiculous. My wife and I would like to leave now. We aren’t confined here—we have the ability to leave when we want to. C’mon, Angie.” He reached down and grasped the hand of a dark-skinned woman in a light pink shirt. He pulled her up, and together they bypassed the concrete table and headed for the exit.

Flip snap, flip snap, flipsnap, flipsnap.

The guards amassed into a line and stood in front of the exit door. Blocking it. The younger, skittish one who’d yelled at the inmate pushed the hockey-shirted man on the shoulder.

“Brady, wait—” Angie said, her voice high-pitched.

But Brady snarled at the guard only to have the guard push him in the chest with two hands—hard. Kathleen watched in slow motion as Brady stumbled back from the force and fell over, crashing to the floor with his head clocking one of the concrete table edges with a sickening thump. Angie stifled a shriek and knelt beside her husband, trying to help him up.

“Oh my god, Mom,” Allison breathed next to her.

Kathleen couldn’t see blood on Brady’s face, but he did appear loose and shell-shocked. He leaned hard into Angie. “Get back to your seat,” the guard growled at them. “Get back to your seat and sit down.”

From behind him, the militaristic guard from earlier took a step forward and said, “Power outage means lockdown. Lockdown applies to everyone, not just inmates. No more stupid antics. We can’t run the risk of losing anyone just because you think you’re entitled to leave.”

Chills crept over Kathleen’s spine. She jerked back when she felt another soft touch on her wrist. Max leaned closer