Edge of Fear: An EMP Post-Apocalyptic Survival Prepper Series (American Fallout Book 3) by Alex Gunwick (year 7 reading list .txt) 📗

Sierra’s eyes widened as she took in Derek’s bedraggled state. His face was dirty and bruised, the skin seemingly white as a sheet and stretched thin over his skull. Dark circles lurked beneath his normally bright eyes, which were now rheumy and unfocused. Blood was spattered all over his clothes, mostly concentrated around his left shoulder.

“What the hell happened to you?”

“Shot. I got shot.” Derek collapsed onto the floor. He barely caught himself on hands and knees before he did a full-on face-plant.

“You’re bleeding.” A stab of sympathy rose in Sierra’s belly. “Oh, my God, your blood is everywhere.”

“I noticed that.” Derek crawled over to the chair and started to pick at the knots that held her wrist prisoner. “Listen, I need your help. This bullet hole has to be cleaned. I’ll die of infection if it isn’t. I’ve lost a lot of blood. I can’t do it myself.”

“Hurry up and untie me so I can help.” Sierra grew restless as he feebly picked at the knot. “For God’s sake, would you quit screwing around and untie me?”

With agonizing slowness, Derek managed to get the knot loosened. Sierra’s hand came free, and she quickly went to work to free her other wrist as Derek leaned against the wall and panted heavily.

The use of only one hand made it a frustrating task, but the sight of Derek’s groaning, bloody form gave impetus to her efforts. She let out a cry of triumph as her wrist came free at last. Sierra rubbed at the indentations on her skin left by the cruel bonds before she went to work on the rope that held her legs to the chair.

“I can’t believe you got yourself shot. Aren’t you an Army guy like my dad? Don’t you know how to be more careful?”

“Not Army.” Derek coughed and moaned again, then held his face in his dirty hands. “Navy SEAL. The Army is like the Cub Scouts compared to us.”

“Oh, my God, you’re about to pass out again.” Sierra put her hand on his forehead and winced. “Your skin is ice cold. I’m going for help.”

“No.” Derek glanced up at her, eyes widened in fear. “You can’t go out there. It’s not safe.”

“Well, Mr. High and Mighty Navy SEAL, you’re in no position to stop me.” Sierra stared down at him with her arms crossed. He wasn’t so smart now, was he? He groaned and clasped his bleeding shoulder with his other hand. Her scowl melted. “Hang on, okay? I’ll get help. My dad will know how to take care of you.”

Derek slumped over onto his side as he fell unconscious. Sierra grabbed her coat from where he had left it and slung it over her shoulders as she ran for the exit. The dusty, dark concrete bunker terrified her, but the chance to save Derek kept her from panicking.

Sierra burst out of the exit and into the cold mountain air.

“I never thought I’d be so happy to get snowed on.” Sierra took a moment to fully appreciate her freedom, and then she raced off toward the cabin. Or at least she hoped it was the cabin. It had been days since Derek had taken her captive. She hoped she could remember the way home.

Danger was never far from her mind. Someone had shot Derek, and that same someone might still be nearby. Maybe, even now, someone had sighted down the barrel of a cold rifle to take aim at her soft, squishy head.

Sierra dismissed such ideas. She wouldn’t die on the side of this cold, bleak mountain. No way. She would make it back to the cabin, and her family would help her save Derek.

Maybe, after she saved his life, he’d finally warm up to her advances. Maybe she wasn’t a trained Navy SEAL, whatever that meant, but she could be useful, too. He would see.

Sierra shivered in the bitter, cutting wind as she trudged along. The snow had continued to fall after her capture. It blanketed the mountainside and slowed her progress. Her eyes burned when the sun occasionally peeked out from behind gray clouds and flashed across the white landscape. She longed for her Gucci shades but plodded on as best she could.

When the snow depth was easier to navigate, she broke into a run. She was desperate to get help. Jerk or not, she couldn’t let Derek bleed out. She ran until the stitch in her side grew too miserable to ignore. As her feet pounded the terrain, her mind raced.

Don’t die, Derek. I’m getting help. Don’t die, Derek. I’m getting help.

The mantra helped take her mind off the agony of her side. Her feet ached terribly.

When she spotted the cabin’s dark walls through the trees, she almost fell to the ground in relief. Luck was finally on her side. She exploded into a new burst of speed.

She hollered for her parents as she approached. A faint wisp of smoke trailed up out of the cabin’s single chimney, but there was no sign of anyone present.

She searched high and low, but the cabin seemed deserted. She shouldered the door open and continued her search.

“Is anyone home?” She called. Her boots left small piles of snow and widening puddles in her wake. “Hello? Goddammit!”

It was damned irresponsible of her family not to have someone at the cabin in case she returned. Isn’t that what Dad called standard operating procedure in a missing person case?

As the sun stretched shadows across the floor, her anxiety grew. Derek was back at the bunker bleeding out. She couldn’t linger any longer. She seized the tackle box-sized first aid kit and made her way back outside, back into the cold.

“You better appreciate this.” She stormed off back toward the shelter, the heavy first aid kit in tow. Why wasn’t Dad here? This kind of thing was right up his alley.

Well, she didn’t need her father. She didn’t need anyone. She would save Derek on her own, and then he would