“I brought you some hot tea, sir,” she said.
As she approached, he noticed the steaming enamelware cup in her hands. She set it on the small table beside his chair, and he reached for it.
“That’s awfully nice of you,” he said.
“Do you need anything else?”
“Oh, no,” he replied. He took a sip of tea, but it was just a bit too hot at the moment. “I’m perfectly fine to sit here and enjoy myself. I was thinking about taking me a little nap, but I’ll stay up for the tea.”
“Okay, but you just call for one of us if you need anything,” she said.
Emma went down the steps into the yard. A moment later, Horace heard the squeals of a tiny voice, and suddenly little Greg burst through the open door and went capering down the steps after his aunt. He was a little past six years old, and he was a bundle of energy. Horace could already see a lot of the grandfather in him. Same blond hair, blue eyes, same smile.
All of his clothes were handmade, of course. There were precious few stores in the wilderness of British Columbia. Indeed, at the moment, he was wearing a long shirt and pants that looked like they’d been made from a bedsheet. His shoes were crude moccasins. Horace had helped Emma make them.
“Papa, Papa, look at me,” Greg said, spinning circles in the yard.
“Oh, I see you,” Horace replied. “You’ll make yourself dizzy like that.”
“I know. It’s fun!” And then he stopped and cast himself onto the grass, arms and legs spread wide. “Whoa, the whole world is spinning and spinning!”
Horace often marveled at the amazing view they had from the porch. Because the cabin was set partway up a slope, they had an expansive view all the way to the vast gray mountains crowning the horizon. Of course, they’d done a lot of work on the cabin and grounds over the years, and it looked better than ever. Repairs had been made, and they’d cleared a bit more ground around them so they had some breathing room.
For a man like Horace, who had very few wants in life, it was paradise. He spent most of his time, even in his declining condition, feeling content. Now and again, of course, when his mind decided to wander, he would think of Tabitha and what might have been, and he’d feel a little moment of regret. But then he reminded himself of how much more they could have lost, and that always pulled him out of it.
Marion understood. And as she stepped out onto the porch, she gave him that knowing little look that she often did. “How are you doing this afternoon, Papa?” she asked.
“Got my tea. Got my chair. Got my family. That’s all I need.” He took another sip of tea. Emma had sweetened it with some wild honey, and it tasted amazing.
“You said it,” Marion replied, reaching over to briefly grasp his shoulder.
She headed down the steps. Emma was already at the well in the far corner of the lot, pumping water into a bucket. Marion moved to join her, but she diverted course first. Horace knew where she was headed, of course. She always liked to pay her respects when she stepped into the yard. The beautiful headstones for Greg and Tabitha were located in a small fenced area to one side. Marion approached, stood there for a moment with her head bowed, then smiled and walked away.
Soon, she was helping her daughter fill the trough with water, as the cows converged around them. Little Greg was now running back and forth from fence to fence, squealing with delight. “Can we ride the horses soon, Grandma? I want to ride the horses?”
“We’ll feed them in a little bit,” Marion said. “Do you want to help me do that?”
“Yeah,” the boy said, jumping up and down. “Can we ride them while they’re eating?”
“Maybe afterward,” Marion said.
The last members of the family appeared then. Justine and Darryl came through the door and crossed the porch. Horace thought Darryl looked quite imposing with his full beard. It matched his personality. The young man had boundless will and determination for getting things done, and he was always working on some project to improve the house, expand the property, boost their food supplies, or whatever else came to mind.
Even now, as he crossed the porch, he was in the middle of explaining to Justine his plan to expand their garden in the back yard. “We’ve got a few old tree stumps back there. If I can get the horses to pull them out of the ground, we could expand in that direction, add a few rows.”
“We need to grow more potatoes,” Justine said. “We’ve got way more radishes and turnips than we could ever eat.”
“You got it,” he replied.
Justine was holding the baby of the family, two-year-old Tabby, a chubby little thing with long, black hair like her mother. She began to thrash now, so Justine set her down. Immediately, she chased after Greg, her long dress swishing around her sandaled feet. Her dress had been made from fabric they’d looted from the bandits years earlier. Indeed, they’d gotten quite a bit of useful stuff from those awful people: lots of clothes, fabric, knives, guns, bullets, and more.
As the children ran around, Darryl hooked his hands into claws and made monster noises. He chased after them, as they giggled and pretended to be scared. But when he cornered them against the fence, he wrapped them in a big embrace and lifted them both off the ground. He kissed them on the head one at a time and set them down.
Horace smiled. It was one of those perfect little moments, and he’d had so many of them in the last six years. They’d left the old world behind and found a little paradise of their own here in the mountains. Maybe someday the young ones would have to trek back to civilization for supplies or simply to meet other people. As for Horace, he knew he would spend his last days right here, comfortable and well-loved. He took another sip of his tea and watched the children resume capering about the yard. Another beautiful day.
End of Survive the Journey
EMP: Return of the Wild West Book Three
PS: Do you love prepper fiction? Then keep reading for exclusive extracts from Erupting Trouble and Escaping Conflict.
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About Grace Hamilton
Grace Hamilton is the prepper pen-name for a bad-ass, survivalist momma-bear of four kids, and wife to a wonderful husband. After being stuck in a mountain cabin for six days following a flash flood, she decided she never wanted to feel so powerless or have to send her kids to bed hungry again. Now she lives the prepper lifestyle and knows that if SHTF or TEOTWAWKI happens, she’ll be ready to help protect and provide for her family.
Combine this survivalist mentality with a vivid imagination (as well as a slightly unhealthy day dreaming habit) and you get a prepper fiction author. Grace spends her days thinking about the worst possible survival situations that a person could be thrown into, then throwing her characters into these nightmares while trying to figure out "What SHOULD you do in this situation?"
You will find Grace on:
BLURB
A father with a heart problem and a son determined to get him home…
Matthew Riley wants to believe that people will come together in times of great struggle, but as panic and chaos set in after a massive EMP event, he has to face the fact that the only people he can trust are his family. His ailing father, David, an Army vet, has the skills the Riley family needs to survive in the dark new world, but with no medication for his heart condition on hand, keeping him alive may be an impossible task as they journey home from what was supposed to be a simple day trip.
She’ll keep her daughter safe and reunite her family…
Kathleen doesn’t share her husband’s optimistic view of humanity. When the power goes out during a visit to her brother in prison, she and her teenage daughter will need to find their way out and start the long journey back to Galena, IL, in the
hope they can reunite with the rest of their family.
They’ll defend their home…
With the rest of the Riley family gone, it’s up to Ruth and her grandson, Patton, to keep their newly renovated hotel safe for the family they know is coming their way. But food is running low and some see an elderly woman and a pre-teen boy as easy pickings.
In a broken civilization the only way to survive is strength in numbers. One family is determined to work together in this new world, but will they be able to defend themselves against desperate survivors?
Get your copy of Erupting Trouble
Available April 7th, 2021
(Available for pre-order now.)
www.GraceHamiltonBooks.com
EXCERPT
Chapter One
From his spot in the cashier’s line of Wilson’s Antiques, Matthew Riley smiled at the gorgeous expanse of blue sky that he could see outside the shop’s windows. It was turning out to be a beautiful day, and not just because of the spring Wisconsin weather: he’d junk-hunted through rickety wooden chairs and strange metal plush seats from the ’60s, and had found the perfect set of green velvet chairs. They’d be perfect decor for the hotel's summertime grand opening. Even his daughter, Allison, would think them retro-cool instead of outdated-gross. The ticket to claim and purchase rested in his palm.
“If this line moves any slower, I might keel over,” David grumbled beside him. His father wasn’t wrong—it seemed a lot of people had the same idea of taking advantage of the weather to hunt for trash turned to treasure. They were near the back of the line, and up ahead, the cashier was doing her best to keep the line moving.
“We have nowhere else to be,” Matthew told his father. “You can consider this mission a success. We found everything we came for here.”
“And some things we didn’t expect to find. What is this thing, anyway?” David asked, gesturing to the items in the basket Matthew held.
“It’s an old-timey coffee grinder,” Matthew said.
“Could just buy a new one,” David responded, peering at the squat wooden box with a rotating handle. “Looks like a Jack in the Box. Remember those toys?”
“It’s about the aesthetic. The River Rock Hotel is a mountain resort, and that’s what our guests will expect. We won’t use it, but doesn’t it look cool? People will imagine what it was like, exploring the mountains and finding ways to get their morning joe while watching the sun come over the mountain.”
“Should’ve kept my coffee grinder from when I was a young man. It might not have had the same aesthetic, but at least it worked and looked old. You could’ve used that for free instead of paying twenty bucks for something that cost fifty cents back in the day.”
“Fifty cents might’ve been the same amount as twenty bucks,” Matthew said. The lights above flickered, almost as if someone was playing with the light switch. “It’s called inflation, Dad.”
David snorted a laugh. His blue eyes crinkled in amusement. The lights continued to stutter, casting a dim flickering glow over the customers. Then, with a sudden bright surge like the bulbs had been pushed to their max, the store fell into darkness. Around him, the customers in line groaned.
“Sorry, folks,” the cashier said in a loud voice. “Looks like we lost power, again.”
A collective groan rose louder than the first.
“We’ll just wait for it to kick back on, and then we’d be happy to give you all a 10% discount for your patience and understanding,” the cashier finished. She pushed straggling hair off her forehead and had the look of a rabbit caught in a trap.
“I can’t wait for you to get your store back in order," one woman near the front said. "You should be prepared for this. It’s Madison, for goodness sake. The electricity is always unreliable in the spring.”
“It figures,” a young man said to his friend just in front of Matthew. “These kinds of shops aren’t investing in tech or updating their contingency plans in case something happens. Something like this could send them under. You need to take steps to ensure you aren’t losing your customer base just because the electricity goes out. The winter ice must've done a number on their infrastructure.”
Some of the customers rolled their eyes and pulled out their phones as the grumbling continued, and Matthew sighed, wondering if he should speak up. He understood why everyone was frustrated—the world was a hustle-and-bustle kind of economy, where listless time meant money lost or accomplishments not achieved. Still, the poor cashier looked flushed and stressed, and Matthew tended to have a strong, soothing personality. If everyone just understood that they were in the same boat, things would calm down. Matthew had found, over his years, that people had good hearts that got lost underneath the go-go-go life they all lived. Sometimes it just took a little nudge for everyone to remember that goodness. He opened his mouth.
“Don’t even think about it,” David said under his breath to him. Matthew gave his father an irritated, if fond, look. The two of them were so similar, yet their experiences had shaped them into two very different men.
“I wasn’t going to do anything,” Matthew said, but even he could hear the lie in his voice. “While we’re waiting, I’ll check in on Kathleen.” He pulled out his phone and dialed his wife, wanting to keep her abreast of the situation. She'd been on his mind all morning. He knew today would be hard on her.
“She’s inside a prison,” David said to him gently. “I bet neither she nor Allison can answer. Especially during visitation hours.”
Matthew kept the phone to his ear, but he couldn’t hear anything. The phone was eerily silent. He ended the call with a frown. His battery was fully charged. Why wouldn’t the call go through? “It’s not that. The call doesn’t even go anywhere.”
David shrugged, even as he pulled out his much older cell phone. “This old building probably has too much concrete blocking the signal, plus the electricity is out. Maybe a tower’s down. I don’t have signal either.”
“It’s all right. I just wanted to check in with her. It’s tough for her, seeing her brother locked up. I feel bad not being there with her.”
“You can’t be in two places at once. She’ll be all right,” David said. “Plus, the hotel is like having another child. You were needed here.”
Matthew swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, steering the conversation back into familiar territory with a joke. “At least it’s a child we’re raising together.”
“The most time-consuming money-sink of a child I've ever had."
Matthew smirked, knowing his father liked to pretend the hotel hadn't given him some purpose in his retirement years. "You fuss over the place more than I do."
"Never thought I’d be a retiree,” David mused and scratched at his temple. He had the same sandy-blonde hair as Matthew, only his was cut military style and had been for decades. “In all honesty, opening this hotel together will be as good for me as it is for you.”
“It’s been Kathleen’s and my dream for a while now. It’s about time we took the steps to make it happen. I'm glad you and Mom decided to be part of that dream too.” Matthew paused. “I know we told Mom we’d be back early this afternoon to help her and Patton clean up the rooms, but they’ll understand why we might be late.”
David grinned. “Patton’s probably driving Ruth up the wall.”
“Hey, he elected to stay behind and help clean.” Matthew held his hands up, palms out. “Sometimes I don’t understand that child of mine. I wouldn’t be caught dead having to clean, especially on a nice day like this.”
"Oh yeah, as opposed to shopping, which has always been something boys enjoy."
"Ha. Ha. Very funny."
Up ahead, the cashier held her hands around her mouth. “Hi there, valuable customers! Since the power doesn’t seem like it’s coming back on right away, we are going to ring out customers with cash purchases only. If you have a cash purchase, please form a new line to the right.”
“Are you serious?” the woman near
the front yelled. She walked out of line and around the numerous displays, leaving her pile of things in the middle of the store. “You’ve just lost my business.”
“I’m with that lady,” another man seconded, and abandoned his items.
"I'd be more than happy to put your purchases on hold until tomorrow," the cashier said, her face crumbled with distress.
"You think I'd ever come back to a mismanaged establishment like this?" The bell above the door jingled as the woman stormed out.
“That’s uncalled for,” David said, his gruff voice low. “No need to be rude.”
“They’re just frustrated.” Matthew released a sigh and looked down to his basket. “I don’t have much cash on me. Not enough to get the chairs, that’s for sure.”
David bit his lip as most of the customers left their items strewn about the store or dumped on displays. “Maybe we should come back when things aren’t so hostile.”
“Yeah, this poor lady has enough to deal with. Let’s go put our things back. The furniture hasn’t been pulled yet.” Matthew ran a hand through his short, wavy hair, and placed the coffee grinder back on the shelf.
He turned a watchful eye on his father, who was placing a few art deco hinges and doorknobs back, and searched for any signs of distress. It had been a couple of hours, after all.
“This whole thing has been a bust,” he said to David. “Feel like heading home? We can try again another day.” He shouldn’t push his father to keep going and explore the other antique shops in Madison.
“You read my mind.” David rubbed his gnarled hands together as if to warm them. His eyes skittered around the shop, always taking in his surroundings. Old habits died hard. Matthew nodded, and together they walked out into the bright sunny day.
EMP: Return of the Wild West Box Set | Books 1-3 Page 72