Her arms were burning and her lungs felt like they would collapse, but nothing would stop her from getting her daughter to what she hoped would be medicine. Without it, Megan knew her only child would die.
She didn’t have a clue what had made her so sick, but Caitlin was gravely ill. In the past twenty-four hours, her daughter went from bubbly and energetic to lethargic and weak. Megan had left their most recent camp in the hopes of finding something to help her. They’d walked through one small town yesterday and found nothing. Every single place she checked had been emptied already forcing them to travel for miles.
She was afraid to walk through the city streets overrun with looters. Megan knew it wasn’t safe for her and definitely not for Caitlin. It wasn’t as if she could leave her daughter alone while she went on a scavenging mission. She had to do it with Caitlin or not all. Common sense told her she didn’t have the strength to fight off the hundreds and thousands of other people vying for the same basic supplies. Instead, she’d decided to head out of town in the hopes of finding clinics, stores, and homes in more rural areas that weren’t as likely to be quite so dangerous.
Megan took long strides, slightly shifting her daughter, as she kept moving forward. Her sweaty hands were making it difficult for her to hold on to Caitlin. Gripping her hands together under her daughter’s backside, Megan pressed on.
She tried to protect her daughter’s head as best she could from the branches and sharp twigs that seemed to be jumping out and stabbing the intruders in the forest. Another branch hooked her sleeve, scratching painfully at the skin beneath and she could feel blood trickling down her arm, towards her fingers. She wanted to scream at the trees and order them to stop their assault.
Her back was killing her with the awkward posture of leaning back to keep her daughter secured against her chest. The weight of her pack helped pull her backwards, but also put more strain on her hips. She was grateful to have had an old hiking pack in the closet. The internal frame made it easier for Megan to carry it and allowed her to carry a lot more without much additional strain. She didn’t know if she would have been able to carry her daughter and her supplies without it. Right now, she was grateful the pushy salesman had persuaded her to spend the extra money on the pack.
Regardless, everything hurt. She could feel dried blood on her bare arms pulling the fine hairs whenever Caitlin’s body rubbed against the cuts, further adding to the misery. Each twist tore open the dried wounds, causing them to start bleeding again.
She’d fallen several times, catching herself with one arm and holding her daughter with the other. She could tell her left knee was swollen. It was stiff and difficult to bend. It didn’t matter. Her daughter’s life was all that mattered.
“A few more steps,” Megan chanted more for her own benefit than her unconscious daughter.
She was thankful the weather had been mild. It was early spring in the northwest, but there were still little piles of snow in the shady areas. Climbing steadily uphill, her overused muscles screamed at her to take a break but she knew if she did, she wouldn’t be able to get back up again. The cabin ahead was growing steadily larger as her strides ate up the distance. Because of the harsh winter storms, mountain residents were prepared to outlast storms for weeks at a time, which meant they would have supplies, including medicine.
If it’d been more than the mild seventy degrees that it currently was, Megan wasn’t sure she could’ve walked as far as she did. As it was, she was sweating and the growing fatigue was partly dehydration. Her daughter’s feverish body was like carrying a giant lava rock. In addition to finding shelter and medicine, they needed water. The little water she had wouldn’t last long; especially if Caitlin woke and needed it.
She’d eaten the last of the food she’d managed to scrounge up at an abandoned home earlier that morning. Megan was now running on empty and knew her collapse would mean her daughter’s life. Push, Megan. Push.
When she got within three hundred feet of the cabin, she stopped to survey the property, staying partially hidden in the surrounding trees. If someone was here, it could go either way. Unfortunately, the new world was not kind. You didn’t simply knock on a stranger’s door to beg for food and water.
Not now.
Not after the EMP had plunged the world into the biggest blackout, humankind had ever experienced.
At least those who’d grown up with electricity. Pioneers would do okay in this world, but for those who’d never learned how to work with their hands or hunt for food, this was a form of population control that no one wanted to face. Those who didn’t know how to perform some of the most basic skills were suffering.
Megan had seen more dead in the past few weeks than the living. After the first dozen or so, she thought she’d grow immune to the horror of death and could simply move quickly past but the smell reminded her of what it meant to be alive as her gag reflex kicked in.
This new world meant that only the fittest, strongest and most prepared would survive.
Get your copy of Dark Retreat here.
Also by Grace Hamilton
EMP Lodge Series Book One
EMP Lodge Series Book Two
EMP Lodge Series Book Three
EMP Lodge Series Book Four
EMP Lodge Series Book Five
EMP Lodge Series Book Six
Dead Lines [911] Page 25
