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

“You have to. Once you get to the hotel, you can find help. Hopefully your father is already there. Then you can come back for me, okay? Allison, promise me.”

Allison frowned, her blue eyes narrowing as she studied the biker gang. The gang had noticed them now and began nudging each other and peering in Kathleen’s direction. Once more, Kathleen felt like a mouse in the claws of a particularly gleeful cat. “Promise me,” Kathleen hissed.

Allison considered her for a moment, but finally gave her one quick nod.

“Good,” Kathleen said and tightened her hands around her handlebars. She held her head up high. “Never forget that I love you. Now, let’s see what new trouble is in store for us.”

35

The prison was unnaturally quiet.

Max sat on the edge of his bunk as the electricity went out, his hands tightly clasped in front of him to hide his trembling. It was still seen as weakness to show any kind of emotion. The light from the elongated, beveled window next to him let in the mid-morning sun, giving him a glimpse of the blue sky just out of his reach. The power had been unreliable since Kathleen’s visit. He’d lost count of how many times the lights had flickered and gone out. Whenever they did, he imagined the generators whirring to create electricity for them and wondered what would happen if the generators died and the lights stayed out. He never had to find out, though. The lights would always sputter back on. The guards would let out a collective sigh of relief and would remove their hands from the hilts of their beat sticks.

A guard rattled a ring of keys, opened up Max’s cell, and motioned Max out with a small, if tired-looking, smile of hello. It was his cellblock’s recreation hour. The guard hadn’t been a friend by any means, but he had had a certain responsibility for Max’s protection. Max, the singing bird. Max, the betrayer. Max, the drug mule who’d broken the trust of some very dangerous men by listing off other mules responsible for transporting cocaine across country borders. Max, who had given these up in exchange for a reduced sentence. Max, who told the police details about the route and the checkpoints. Max, who had a target painted on his back from day one in prison.

Max eased past the bars and looked around him to see if anyone new had been admitted to their block. His eyes flickered over the familiar faces, and the knot in his stomach didn’t loosen. No one new had joined, but that didn’t mean that he could let his guard down. He had to be aware of everything around him at all times.

The guards had had to move Max from his original cellblock when he was first brought into the prison because one of the inmates had threatened his life. Some guy Max had never seen before had caught him coming out of the bathroom, shoved a shiv close to his eye, and promised Max he’d make him mute so he wouldn’t be able to sing anymore. Max had requested a transfer that was quickly granted, but he knew inmates within the prison were out to get him. There were way too many people in this prison who wanted him to suffer for what he’d done.

Trying to act bored, he got in line and followed the guard out and up to the triangular rooftop recreation yard. Max breathed in deep and found himself grateful for the fresh air. A basketball court sat ready at one side, and some of the inmates grabbed a ball to start a game. No one asked Max to join and he didn’t ask. It was better for him to stay away and not make friends. Friends could turn on him, given the right incentive. He glanced up into the sky. All at once, he felt closer to the sun than he ever had before, and yet still so isolated from everything he’d once known. Crossing his arms, he began to walk a loop around the recreation yard’s perimeter. A breeze fluttered by and he shivered. Goosebumps ran down his arms. He listened for the familiar sounds of traffic that usually came up from the streets below, surrounding the prison. Being in the middle of Chicago meant that he’d become used to the background tones of cars speeding to their next destination. He’d become used to the honk of horns and the squeal of wheels to accompany the cawing crows and cooing pigeons who liked to perch on the barbed wire and watch the inmates exercise. He cocked his head to the side, but he heard only an eerie silence. It was as though all the traffic had stopped.

Frowning, he calmly walked past the concrete wall and peered out the barred gate that looked down over the city. He could see cars down below, but for some reason, everything had come to a stop. Some cars were parked in the middle of the street. Maybe there was a parade planned? Maybe street cleaning? It seemed odd that everything around the prison seemed to be frozen in time.

Max took a couple of steadying breaths, and he tried to find some semblance of control. He had no idea what had happened after Kathleen visited, only that he got the sense that the prison had begun to descend slowly into disarray. The guards seemed frazzled as if overworked. Max didn’t want to find out what would happen if things got more chaotic. The prison was a world different from everything he’d known before, but it revolved around the idea of who was the toughest. It was a world of packs, and it was dangerous to be a lone wolf. Max had done worse than decide to be alone. He had betrayed his pack that had wanted to bring him into their fold with promises that if he brought in