Apocalipstick (Hell in a Handbag Book 1) by Lisa Acerbo (the best e book reader txt) 📗

they granted her some time. She was sure that would change at dinner. Wiping dirt from the garden on her jeans, she headed back to the inn.

The view from the front porch was riveting with the lush meadow leading into dense woods. She sat, stalling before going inside and facing everyone with their good intentions.

Was this a hallucination? One. Two. Four. Six.

They moved through the meadow.

Panic flooded her system. She stood and ran, pushing open the front door.

“Streakers.” Jenna grabbed a gun kept in a nearby closet. Ford was first at her side, also reaching for a weapon. The two headed out to the porch.

“Where?” Ford asked.

Jenna pointed to the figures moving toward the inn. They moved quickly and efficiently in a straight line.

“They don’t appear to be Streakers, do they?” Ford asked.

“No,” Jenna squinted

More people joined them on the porch, weapons in hand. As the figures reached the middle of the field, people could recognize strangers not Streakers. A blond, angular woman shadowed a tall Hispanic male, both charismatic and carrying weapons. Four people followed.

Word spread and everyone crowded on the front porch. Some held weapons at the ready while some stared in awe.

Peter stepped forward to greet the new arrivals and no one stopped him.

“Good evening,” the strange, blond woman addressed Peter, her voice lilted with a strong accent.

“My name is Peter,” he said. “It is not often or ever we receive visitors to the inn. We’re happy you’re here and safe. Everyone is healthy?”

“Of course,” replied the woman. “My name is Tundra.”

“Come inside and share some dinner. Welcome to our home.”

Jenna shifted from foot to foot. Was Peter sizing them up? Determining if they were friend or foe? Shouldn’t there be a test before allowing strangers to enter?

The pressure of Caleb’s hand on her back gave her instant comfort. She could not resist leaning against him.

“Thank you,” replied the blonde, clearly of the New Race. “These are my companions, David and Gunnar.” The blonde pointed at the two men next to her, also of the New Race. David was Hispanic, well-muscled, with tattoos running in sleeves along his arms. Gunnar, his polar opposite. Bright green skinny jeans and an oversized jacket that hung listlessly about him amplified his skinny frame. Long, shaggy brown hair covered one of his eyes and reaching to his shoulders.

“Of course,” Tundra continued, finally recognizing the humans in her group. “These are our humans . . . human companions. This is Lilly, Jim, and Mack.”

The three humans issued quiet hellos. It was obvious the travel and stress of the Streakers had worn on them. Jenna was excited to learn more and hear their stories. A babble of voices erupted from the porch when the new arrivals entered, everyone curious to find where they had been and what it was like on the outside.

Peter led the group into the dining hall where Jenna helped ladle out bowls of hot soup with fresh vegetables, broiled venison, and some recently found, canned pineapple. Jackie had attempted a new bread recipe and rolls perched on each table.

Tundra spoke while the humans in her group ate quietly but with vigor. They were skinny to the point of emaciation, obviously suffering from worse conditions than at the inn. The two New Racers next to Tundra stared at her with adoration, and there was no doubt who kept the group together.

“David, Gunnar, and I hail from New York City,” Tundra began to tell their story. “New York is now a wasteland, but I’m originally from Belgium. We are some of the very few who made it out, but not before losing many of our companions. We have been searching for quite a long time for a quiet place to call home.” Tundra addressed the members of the New Race, avoiding eye contact with the humans.

Feels great to be ignored. The bitch keeps staring at Caleb. What is going on here?

“My companions and I found Jim and Mack on the road together about a year ago. They joined us, and then Lilly was a surprising find about five months ago. We see less and less humans as time goes by. We don’t often run into anyone these days, except, of course, the Streakers.”

English is her second language. Maybe that’s why it sounds like Tundra refers to Lilly as a pet rather than a person, Jenna thought.

“How long did it take you to get to Virginia?” asked Aiko. “How did you find us?”

“I assume we had a similar idea to you,” Tundra said. “The colder states would have less people and less Streakers but would also be harder to survive in. We decided to venture south, hoping to find more survivors, and run into less Streakers by staying away from big cities and off major highways.”

“How’d you end up here?” Peter asked.

“We’re actually on our way further south. We hope to find an island off the coast of Florida. David and I noticed this place from a distance and considered staying the night. When we moved closer, we smelled wood burning and were curious.”

“It is a nice place you have here,” Gunnar added.

“It speaks,” Billy joked, and Josh and Kyle snickered.

“You don’t address us that way.” David jumped out of his seat and turned a malevolent stare on them, pale eyes spiraling to red.

The boys quieted, fear apparent on Kyle’s face.

George, gun in hand, rocketed out of his seat. “You don’t talk to anyone here like that ever. This is our home, not yours.” The gun barrel was mere feet away from David’s head.

Peter and Tundra stood in unison.

Tundra aimed her gaze at David, voice cold and venomous. “We are guests here. You need to control yourself.” She placed a pale hand on his shoulder, fingernails digging into his flesh.

“I’m sorry,” David met Tundra’s eyes before the group. “I am sorry for the comment. It was not my place.”

To restore normalcy, Peter steered the conversation to his own experiences and spoke to Tundra about the group forming and traveling together. George sat