The Life After War Collection

by Angela White

  Angela felt worry and intense concern flood the area, not from inside, and realized she was still tied to the emotions of their former leader. Something was happening outside the gates.

  “Hey!”

  “It’s snowing!”

  Angela shivered, snapping into replay mode to determine what she had misjudged. She wanted to be relieved that it wasn’t something more dangerous, but the snow wasn’t supposed to be here for weeks. Enough of it would be extremely dangerous.

  “It’s not cold.”

  “It’s ash!”

  “Get under cover!”

  “It’s more ash! Get under cover!”

  Around the center table, Angela’s guards and leadership stood, each with a specific job to do. The glove boxes had contained new instructions for handling the Yellowstone fallout.

  Across the mess, Kenn and Tonya marched to the com truck, hitting their radios alternately to spread the word.

  “This is an ash storm. Go to your tents. Zip flaps and windows, and hang the blankets like we’ve been discussing,” Tonya instructed calmly. “Eagles will make rounds to assist you and if you haven’t signed up for the rookies yet, let them know and they’ll add your name to the lists right then!”

  “People on duty or outside should have their masks and respirators on,” Kenn droned. “Full coverage gear is mandatory. Get suited up or get under cover–now.”

  Angela felt Greg’s hand on her arm as he led her into the mess truck–the nearest shelter–instead of trying to get her across camp during the storm.

  Angela stared out the truck door as the people vanished and the ash lightly coated everything. She considered ordering leadership to bring up the bubble, but the storm stopped, leaving only a faint coating. The winds didn’t abate though, and it blew the ash away from her herd.

  Greg called for a mask and escorted her to her tent a bit later, aware of the sparks running up his arm from the innocent contact. She was clearly in the groove and he stepped inside with her to make sure she at least sat down and took off her boots.

  Angela stopped in the center of the tent, swaying a bit as she searched for something Greg didn’t think he wanted to know about. The Eagle carefully removed her jacket and led her to the rocking chair that Marc had carried in earlier. Greg tugged off her boots, thinking that now would be a bad time for that man to walk in.

  He quickly retreated when he finished, but didn’t feel right leaving her while she wasn’t aware. He grabbed a blanket from the cot to wrap around her.

  Satisfied he’d done enough for her comfort, Greg took a second blanket, tossed it on the floor and lay down. That meal had worn him out. He hadn’t been so full in a long time.

  Greg snapped awake a bit later to find Angela sitting on her cot, surrounded by notebooks. Her wild hair and dazed expression said she was still in her own mind, and he put his head back down. If she needed him, he was here.

  6

  Marc removed his mask as he entered the QZ and the light rain began to fall. Thankfully, people wouldn’t breathe in as much of the ash while it was wet. Marc noted the alert QZ guards and fastened, dark tents, but wasn’t worried. Angela was being cautious. She would release their new members soon.

  Marc nodded to Wade and Morgan, who had Point together over the QZ for the first time. He strode toward the center, where the newest people had been stashed. Kendle and Daryl were outside the large tent, backs to each other and not speaking.

  Marc wasn’t surprised. The camp might consider Kendle a former star to be admired, but the Eagles knew she wasn’t all there somehow. They also felt the tension she caused, like now, with her hot gaze locked onto him and not letting go.

  “Things okay?” Marc asked.

  “5-by,” Daryl answered. They were the first words he’d spoken since this shift started. He had little to say to the mean island woman and he wasn’t pleased with Angela for putting him here.

  Marc swept the shadows on the canvas wall, showing a sleeping child and her mother next to her, reading a book. What bothers me about that? Marc hadn’t met Tara yet, but the woman was clearly a threat or Angela wouldn’t have two killers outside her tent.

  “Got a minute?” Marc called.

  Tara emerged from the tent slowly, pale and obviously scared.

  “I’m Marc Brady.” Marc introduced himself, but didn’t declare his title. If she didn’t know who he was yet, she would.

  He held out a hand.

  “Tara.”

  Her hand touched his for a brief second and Marc got a strong flash of Angela, before she’d changed. Another abused female. Great. Hadn’t anyone made it through life unscarred?

  “Do you have everything you need?” Marc asked, observing her sickly pallor and her quick peeks toward her sleeping child.

  “We’re fine now. Thank you.”

  Tara’s meek tone had Marc resting his hand on his holster. “If you have trouble here, I’ll handle it.”

  Tara paled further at the double meaning, swallowing nervously. “Okay.”

  Marc nodded again at her guards and headed for the next row of tents. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t like the new woman, but he was aware that he didn’t. Once again, his instincts were screaming and he continued to dwell on her as he patrolled the soldiers’ area in the QZ.

  “He’s second in command here, right?” Tara asked, speaking to Daryl.

  Kendle instantly assumed the new woman had already heard the Eagles talking and had decided to ignore her, too.

  “That’s our XO and the mate of our boss,” Daryl stated pointedly. Kendle was still staring at Marc like a lovesick teenager.

  “He seems…edgy,” Tara commented carefully.

  “He is,” Daryl confirmed. “And you’re the reason why. He knows trouble will follow you guys.”

  “I’m sorry,” Tara apologized shaky. “There’s no one else who can help us.”

  Guilt swamped Daryl, but before he could reply, Tara ducked into the tent and blew out the lantern.

  Daryl glanced at Kendle, expecting empathy, and found her smirking.

  “Was that funny?” he demanded.

  “You swallowing your own boot? Sure. It’s what you get for being mean to someone weaker than you.”

  “Me? Do you know we call you the Queen of Cruel around here?”

  “Why? Because I kill on command? Because I enjoy it like you and your team leader?” Kendle accused scornfully. “I’m not afraid of the truth.”

  Daryl’s face was scarlet and he fired ruthlessly, “You’re cruel in every way, even to Marc. Do you think it’s fair for him to watch your misery and carry that guilt? It’s already eating at him. Angela may not care about your presence here, but Marc does and so do I!”

  Kendle thought about leaving her post and also about pulling her knife, but chose instead to accept the nickname she’d been given. If they thought she was cruel, she would prove it. “Your sloppy-second is carrying the bastard of a traitor and you beat on people as punishment for their supposed crime. You’re not better than me. You’re not better than any of us.”

  “Why you snarky little bitch!” Daryl exclaimed. “How dare you!”

  “You gave me the nickname,” Kendle smirked. “I will now be the Queen of Cruel every time you speak to me. I suggest shutting up.”

  Daryl’s mouth opened.

  “Goodie!” Kendle cackled, rubbing her hands together eagerly. “Another man who doesn’t know when to quit.”

  Daryl snapped his mouth shut and resigned himself to glowering. This bitch has to go.

  Marc heard their raised voices behind him, but didn’t stop. Kendle was much better now, and Daryl was an Eagle in good standing with everyone. They would learn to work together.

  Happy to find security cameras going up around their front gate, Marc strolled through the Indian area next. He noted that the natives had a guard posted even though they were inside the QZ, with Eagles on duty. The soldiers didn’t. Marc understood both actions, but only approved of one. T
he soldiers felt safe here because the leadership style was familiar to them, but only the Indians were truly wise. In Marc’s opinion, the soldiers were too trusting.

  As Marc re-entered the main gate, Shawn fell in step. “We’re all calm and clear. You have Point.”

  “Yeah, until four, then Kenn has it,” Marc confirmed that he’d seen the board as he went to their rear gate to check-in.

  “Well, I’m yours until then,” Shawn stated. “What do you want me on?”

  Marc considered the sizable list in his mind and gave Shawn the top few things, thinking there was no need to rush on most of it. They would have a lot of nights to bring his to-do list under control. Thanks to the apocalypse, disasters and wildcards were now a way of life, and they had to prepare for as many of them as they could. Marc didn’t know what was coming next, but he was tired of being caught off-guard and he was fed up with running.

  Shawn stopped suddenly, turning with a concerned expression. “Is she okay? The new woman, Tara. Can we trust her?”

  Marc understood instantly, but only said, “It’s too soon to tell about any of the new arrivals. Watch your six.”

  Shawn’s happiness burst and he nodded, sighing. “I always do.”

  Chapter Three

  Doggone Shame

  1

  I’m hungry.

  Dog had only been gone from Safe Haven for a few days, but he was missing the mess. Out here, surrounded by mountains and wilderness, there was only whatever food he could hunt.

  Nasty shit, Dog whined. Brady ruined me.

  Dog stared intently at the small town below him. He’d been studying it for hours and hadn’t witnessed a single movement–human or animal. Whining again, he rose and made his way down the street. The farthest building held what he wanted, but he wasn’t at all happy about it.

  Always scratching my ears and wipin’ rain from my ass. Made me into a damn house pet!

  Dog padded down the weed-dotted street, wincing a bit at the soreness. His paws had been used to the slow shifts and canvas floors until Angela’s war and he was still aching from all that traveling. The pads of his feet would build up again and become stronger over the next weeks, but until then, it was easy for him to imagine curling up inside the building he was now facing. A long rest already sounded good.

  He had only taken one so far, during the ash storm. The urge to catch the wild female was too strong to ignore for long and he’d pushed on even though he knew breathing the ash was a bad idea. He had to catch up.

  And I won’t if I keep stopping to hunt, Dog scolded himself. Easy meals from here on.

  Dog went to the main doors of the brick building and scratched gently with his paw, testing.

  The door swung open with a loud groan and Dog’s spirits picked up. Any of his fellow canines would already be dead or gone and there was little reason for the humans to come here now that the animals had turned on them. The pound was a perfect place to hunt up a meal that he didn’t have to stalk, chase, and then kill while listening to it scream for mercy.

  The smell was old and empty, the sounds the same, and Dog eased into the pound with nerves mocking him. He’d only spent time in a place like this right after being captured, but the experience had stayed with him.

  Dog ignored the many rooms with their desks and cabinets, following his nose down the long hall. The doors at the end swung open at his touch and he padded through.

  The swinging door came back hard and fast, and smacked him in the hip.

  Dog jumped forward, stifling a yelp, and then snorted in annoyance at himself as he spotted the cause.

  What am I, a pup? he complained.

  The doors continued to swing, stirring the air and Dog caught a whiff of what he was both dreading and anticipating. He followed the scent down another long hall, this one ending at a steel door with a handle that he nudged down with his paw.

  The odor was powerful–one of rot and of abandonment. Humans hadn’t been here in a long time. They’d fled and left their animals to die.

  Dog almost understood this time. He’d been locked in the bottom of Brady’s home, but he’d witnessed and heard the panic and understood the humans had all been in fear for their lives. It was the first time he’d ever been able discover an excuse for their behavior.

  Dog padded down the row of cages without glancing into any of them. He kept his gaze on the door at the end. It was where the food had come from. During his weeks in that cage, Dog had spent the miserable hours studying the people and the patterns. When he realized the humans weren’t evil, just inconsiderate, it had helped him to control himself and not attack.

  Dog was surprised when the hall ended with a rear door to the outside pound, showing an overcast sky. He had assumed there would be more rooms and retraced his steps, now inspecting each cage to determine if he had missed a door.

  The skeletons bothered him more than he would have ever admitted. Caging his kind had been a way of life and after living with the humans and learning their reasons for such things, Dog had even agreed. Nevertheless, to be here and witness their bodies was another view–one he wished the humans also had to experience.

  As he’d figured out, one of the cages was actually a gate and Dog leapt it in a two-lunge process that balanced him on a file cabinet and allowed him to spot another series of doors. One of those was open and the comforting smell of crunchy food came.

  Not used to such a slippery surface under his paws, Dog slid as he jumped.

  The crash of cabinets was loud, but he landed in the office chair and rolled to the ground without being hurt.

  The cabinet he’d fallen from toppled over and smashed through a side of the gate. It was now possible to squeeze through the bottom and Dog was glad he didn’t have to try to jump over it later. One fall a day was enough.

  Dog entered the feeding area with a feeling of pride, counting five full bags, one of which was already open.

  Dog plunged in and began to eat, moaning, Not the kind I love, but good! Good!

  Crack!

  Thunder rumbled a few seconds after the lightning strike and the rain soon followed.

  Dog kept eating. He emptied a quarter of the bag before he came up for air, belching and farting as he sat down.

  Next?

  A drink.

  Dog went to the opposite side of the room, to the deep boxes that smelled like water. He rose up, paws on the edges, and found the sinks dry. He licked the faucet, able to taste the chemicals left from the water. It had definitely come from here.

  Dog tried to remember watching the humans gather water in Safe Haven. It had come from big blue buckets with white stems. They had rotated those stems!

  Dog stretched his neck out and pushed on the silver stem by the faucet, but it didn’t react. He danced on his hind legs to get close and used his front paw to swipe at it.

  Water gushed from the faucet, splashing him. The stream immediately became smaller and smaller, but the hole in the bottom was plugged and the basin slowly began to fill with rusty water.

  Dog didn’t mind. He drank his fill, not stopping even when the trickle of liquid turned to drops and then halted. He hadn’t had a good, long drink in days.

  Dog dropped down from the sink, listening to the storm beat against his shelter. He had no intentions of going out in the rain, especially on a full stomach. He was searching for a place to nap.

  A pile of empty dog food sacks in the corner was inviting and Dog nosed under a few of them, inhaling deeply. It smelled a bit like home, like Brady’s backseat, and he quickly fell into a dreamless slumber.

  2

  Dog jerked awake to the sound of lapping and crunching.

  The noises echoed through the brick building, sounding like an army of animals was in the room with him.

  Dog stayed still.

  The crunching became quieter after a while, as did the lapping, and Dog guessed both sources had run out. That would mean at least three animals his size to have cleared the bag of food s
o fast. And what else is my size? Wild dogs.

  The wolf tensed, ready to spring out, and then the smell of the mutts hit him.

  It’s…her! She’s in the room!

  Dog stiffened further. So was her pack. He was trapped in the corner by a pack of wild wolves.

  Unable to remain still with her so near, Dog raised his snout a bit to get a glimpse.

  And found her nose inches from his.

  The female wolf was resting on the floor near him, waiting for her pack to finish eating. Her startled gaze met Dog’s, neck fur bristling.

  Dog scanned her pack, counting, evaluating, and then regarded the female. In that glance, he conveyed his interest and a warning. “I’ll kill all of them.”

  The female’s snout drew up, a low growl rumbling, and Dog pushed his Alpha power as hard as he could. “You don’t see me!”

  Stung by the command, the female whimpered and rose, retreating.

  “What is it?”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Where do we kill?”

  The female’s pack circled her protectively, not finding whatever it was that she had, but ready to rip apart whatever she told them to.

  “It stinks here.” The female wolf lowered her snout in disgust. “Let’s go.”

  The pack dutifully followed her from the feed room, none of them understanding there was more food. The closed bags didn’t have a smell and were discounted.

  Paws and nails echoed for only a moment and then the pack was gone.

  Dog stayed where he was, positive he’d gotten inside the female’s mind. He would be okay to finish resting here, and knowing she was near would help. He hadn’t been sure how far ahead of him she was. Now, he would be able to catch up to her within hours.

  Dog quickly returned to his dreams of the female. Her scent covered the room.

  3

  The female took her pack to the cave they’d sheltered in overnight, all of them eager for sleep in the late afternoon drowsy period. The food would become needed energy, but until then, they would be sluggish and irritated.