Free After: Whiteout (AFTER post-apocalyptic series, Book 4) by Scott Nicholson Page A

a billed military cap atop his close-cropped head. A khaki
backpack hung from one shoulder, a grenade, knife holster, and other utensils
attached to a canvas belt. His gear seemed to slow him down, because by the
time he knelt to take aim at the nearly-nude Zaphead boy, his quarry was out of
sight.
    “He’s
across the parking lot,” the man called, presumably to a partner.
    A
second armed man appeared, wearing sunglasses, a black bandanna tied around his
scalp. He had the build of a wrestler, topless except for a camouflage vest
with many bulging pockets. He strolled down the street like a tourist on
vacation, taking in the sights without a care in the world. “We’ll get him,
Roger Dodger,” he said, slinging his rifle high on his shoulder. “See any of
them others?”
    “Nah,
they scattered like cockroaches.”
    “Maybe
they went into one of these stores.”
    Rosa crouched lower as the man looked around. “Bad men,”
whispered little baby Joey.
    “Shh,”
Cathy said.
    Franklin had warned them about a possible secret military
outpost in the area. The old man’s paranoia had painted the soldiers as
marauders intent on imposing tyranny on any surviving civilians. Rosa should have welcomed their presence, because they had weapons and supplies. But
something about them—perhaps their heartless hunting of the Zaphead boy—chilled
her deep inside.
    The
two men gathered around the fallen Zaphead. In death, the Zaphead looked
utterly human, just a pile of frail bones and pale, wrinkled skin. The one in
the cap took out a knife, and for a horrifying moment, Rosa thought he was
going to claim whatever scalp still clung to the old man’s skull. Instead, he
brought down the blade in a swift stroke that severed one of the man’s fingers.
Then he wiped the blade on the leg of his blue jeans and shoved the appendage
into one of his pockets.
    “That’s
seven for me,” said the one called Roger Dodger. “Got you beat by two.”
    “Still
some daylight left. You ain’t won yet,” said the man in sunglasses.
    “I
claim the kid. He won’t get far on those little legs of his.”
    “Fine.
Meet me over at the McDonald’s in fifteen minutes and we’ll figure out the next
move. Sarge wants us back by sundown. He’s gotten a little jumpy since Hayes
and his crew got fucked up.”
    “Hayes
was a dumbass,” Roger Dodger said, checking the magazine in his weapon. “And he
had those two civilians slowing him down. They probably got surrounded and
outnumbered. They’re Zap bait now.”
    Rosa had nearly forgotten the two Zapheads that were
hiding. The woman had repositioned herself at the rear of the Honda, putting
the vehicle between her and the men. The mutant obviously had enough
intelligence to understand they would kill her if they saw her, but she didn’t
panic and make a run for it. The one concealed in the doorway had blended back
into the shadows so well that Rosa couldn’t see him. Rosa wasn’t sure now
whether she was more afraid of the soldiers or the Zapheads.
    Joey,
however, didn’t harbor any doubts. “Bad, bad men,” he said, louder than before.
    Marina was no longer pretending to play with the toys. She
stood by a clothes rack, one hand gripping the sleeve of a blouse as if that
would provide comfort. Rosa waved at her to stay there, hoping the drama
outside would play out fast and move along.
    But
as Roger Dodger worked his way down the street, the man in sunglasses walked almost
straight for Rosa. She thought at first the man had seen her, but he swerved
around a double-parked Prius and hopped onto the sidewalk, heading for the
store next door.
    “He’s
looking for those two Zapheads,” Cathy said.
    “Not
Zapheads,” Joey said, with petulant force. “New people.”
    New
people? Rosa couldn’t make sense of
the child’s words, and she didn’t want to wait around and find out. They’d
either have to hide in the store and hope the man didn’t see them, or else slip
out the back door and take