Free Dark Days: The Long Road Home, a post apocalyptic novel by L M May Page A

distance. He was starting to wonder if it was a good idea to wait until morning, and he doubted he'd be the only one to see it that way.
    He also couldn't help feeling responsible for Megan and Becky – what if he'd only prolonged the agony of the weeks to come? Without food and water, what hope did the young mother and daughter have – what hope did any of them have?
    Christopher knew he was ill-prepared. As a child food magically appeared when Mrs. Smyth, the housekeeper, placed it in front of him.
    With the security of a job that paid well and a healthy trust fund to supplement his income, there was always someone to take care of his every need. Eating out most nights meant his cupboards were almost bare. It had been years since he'd even entered a supermarket – he hadn't needed to since the day he'd impulsively hired one of his clients, a single mother who'd been struggling financially.
    Angela had become a godsend. At first she'd slipped unobtrusively into his apartment while he was at work to do the cleaning. Before long she was stocking the fridge with his favorite coffee beans, milk, and the other things he liked to have on hand. He couldn't remember the last time he had run out of shaving cream or soap.
    “What are you doing?” Christopher asked when Gemma pulled away.
    “There's food in there.” Gemma disappeared through a doorway.
    “She's right,” Anne said. “How much food do you have in your fridge?” She raised her eyebrows knowingly at Christopher.
    Anne had a point. But the idea of scavenging food that belonged to others didn't sit at all well with him.
    “Fine.” Christopher nodded, casting a worried look at Megan and her daughter.
    With communication systems down there was no telling when – or even if – anyone would come to their aid, trucking in water and other supplies.
    Fifteen minutes later there was a rather pathetic looking pile of supplies by the stairwell, stuffed into trash bags and whatever else they could find.
    As they made their way down the stairs they debated over whether or not to search the other floors of the building.
    Carrying her daughter, and eager to do her part, Megan hurried ahead of them. Lighting the tea-light candles Anne found with a box of matches, she set them down every few steps or so.
    Anne stopped when they reached Christopher's floor. “There's three or four bottles of water for the dispenser in the store room. And dozens of cartons of drink for the vending machine.”
    “There is?” Christopher said. He'd always assumed that some company or other kept the machines well stocked, and said as much.
    Anne shook her head. “Your grandfather never forgot his beginnings – said the vending machine was a firm reminder of how far he'd come.”
    Christopher knew the story well. His grandfather bought a vending machine when he was young, using the money he'd squirreled away over the years from various part time jobs after school. The vending machine helped his grandfather pay his way through college.
    “We won't be able to carry them – not that far,” Christopher said.
    “My car's in the garage,” Megan said.
    Christopher shook his head, but it was Gemma who answered.
    “Your car probably won't start–”
    “I know that. But Becky's stroller is in the trunk. We can use it to carry the water.”
    “Smart girl,” Robert said, already thinking ahead. “And we can stash what we can't carry in your trunk. You can come back for it later.”
    Megan lived in a small apartment about twenty minutes away by foot, and they'd already decided to make a detour so they could see the two of them home safely.
    Christopher didn't like the idea of leaving the girl to fend for herself, but Megan had quickly reassured him that Becky's father would get home as soon as he possibly could.
    They left their supplies near the door, Gordon suddenly appearing when he heard them.
    “Thought you'd be long gone by now,” Donavon said to Gordon.
    Gordon shrugged, pulling a