Do not despair. The coming days and weeks will be difficult, but this haven will take care of you if you make the most of it. If you keep your shoulders back and your eyes on the horizon.
You two will overcome whatever’s in your way, I know it. You will both be fine without me. Without anyone else, for that matter. I have all the faith in the world in you kids.
Above all else, stay true to one another. Honest. Hold dearly to the spark that I’ve seen burning between you. I first saw it when you were freshman in East Violet. I still see it now.
After you’ve inventoried the guns and the food and the supplies, remember this: the love you share will always be the most important thing between the walls of this cabin.
When it’s all that’s left, it’ll be the only thing that matters.
I love you both so much; do not dwell on the fact that I am not there, do not dwell on whatever chaos has consumed the world around you.
Carry on.
Love,
Jim
Chloe let out a stuttered breath and sobbed. She folded the letter from her father and held it close to her chest. She hadn’t noticed, but the entire time she read, Nolan and Max were walking room to room, examining their new home.
“It’s incredible,” Nolan said. “You should see the basement.”
“What is it?” Chloe asked between sobs.
“He prepared, Chloe. He insanely prepared. The basement is filled floor to ceiling with food, canned goods, weapons, water. There’s seeds for the spring. Hunting gear, fishing gear. Candles. Oil. A ton of firewood.” Nolan laughed. “Anything you can imagine, he thought of. He must have been at this for weeks.”
“He must have been at this since we moved to Colorado,” Chloe said with a sigh. “All those late nights. All that overtime. Whenever he was out of the house…I thought he was trying to get away from Dana, from the problems at home. But he was here. Doing all of this. For us.”
“We’ll be fine,” Nolan said, “for as long as we’re here. Society rebuilt after NYVO and it’ll rebuild after this. No matter how long it takes. Months. Years. Until then, we’ll be safe. It’s perfect.”
Chloe grinned, took a seat on the loveseat opposite the dining table, and for the first time in twenty-four hours felt at ease. She watched as Nolan bounced Max in his arms, then leaned into the sofa and rested her face atop her palm.
“Not perfect,” Chloe said. “But good. Good enough.”
About the Author
Robert Barnard lives in Orlando, Florida, with his two cats, Conan & Bella. In 2014 he graduated with a Bachelor of Science in Legal Studies from the University of Central Florida.
He is the author of HOUR 23, HOUR 24: ALL THAT’S LEFT, and PHANTASOS: A PARANORMAL THRILLER.
When he isn’t writing he enjoys reading, playing guitar, collecting retro video games, attending pop-culture conventions, and at least several other hobbies you would imagine an author of zombie fiction enjoying.
You can find Robert on Facebook at:
www.facebook.com/authorrobertbarnard
Also by Robert Barnard
A mysterious new game has appeared in arcades across the Pacific Northwest. It’s called Phantasos, and it promises a state-of-the-art virtual reality experience.
There’s only one problem: everyone who plays Phantasos inevitably falls victim to bizarre nightmares, dark hallucinations, and a string of very, very bad luck.
Are these delusions all in the player’s mind? Or did something start to follow them the day they played Phantasos?
The Hours Page 45
