Free The Storm by Kevin L Murdock Page A

didn’t seem like that bad of an idea. It was also time to take Adam Greenleaf up on his offer on those guns. Stacy might object, but a gun would be better than a baseball bat.
                  I looked again at Murphy as we walked. His face was disgusting, but it kept reminding me that blood was already spilled. Adam’s words again came back. “Desperate people do desperate things.” He was right about everything so far. A militia there would be.
     
    Chapter 6
    Time to Get Serious
                  It was still early morning as I returned to the house. The image of that lady and the smoldering house was seared into my brain. It wasn’t the first time I had seen a body before. There have been several occasions over the years when they were on display at funerals and wakes. Sometimes it has been family, and it’s never easy or anything short of eerie to see someone you’ve known and loved lying there dead with makeup on to give the appearance of something a little short of death. This, however, was an entirely new experience. A dead stranger murdered, and close to home. For all the feelings it should provoke, what persisted within me was mostly a sense of despair that I had heard the commotion and been powerless to act. A militia might make a difference and prevent this from happening in our neighborhood , I optimistically believed.
                  Returning home, I entered the backyard through the gate to hide Murphy. His tail was wagging, and he seemed a bit perturbed our walk hadn’t covered as much ground as he wanted. It was with that in mind and his whimpering that I looked at him and said, “Your fault, buddy. I can’t believe you were licking that. Let’s get you cleaned up before Mommy sees you.”
                  He almost answered me by licking his lips and staring straight back. That could have been dog talk for screw off but it didn’t matter now. I quickly got him cleaned up and returned in the house. It was time to tell Stacy what had happened and spend some time with the kids.
                  A few hours passed with the kids running wild around us, and I decided it was time to head down to Adam’s house to collect the rifles he had mentioned and poke around for any supplies. The kids were eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for an early lunch and had given us an easy morning. Kids have an amazing ability to whine incessantly when the TV is first turned off, but they rapidly make do with what toys are around and adjust to the lack of One Direction entertainment. Kids survived for at least a hundred thousand years playing with sticks and rocks; mine at least had little choo-choo trains and dolls to go with a plethora of books. After a day of no TV, they weren’t even asking for it.
                  The day was becoming a bit overcast and looked like it might rain as I walked toward Adam’s house with an empty duffle bag in hand. April showers would be here soon, and it set my mind loose thinking about gardening. If the power doesn’t come back for a long time, we might have to plant crops or lots of veggies. While a halfway decent gardener, I wouldn’t know where to start with real farming. Better save those apple seeds when we finish off the apples. Who knows if we would need them?

              Adam Greenleaf’s house was a townhouse as well, as were all homes in Blennington Estates. He had put some major money into renovating it, and it was easily distinguishable from the two houses that flanked it on each side. Most environmentalists complain about saving the earth, but few follow up their creed with a matching lifestyle. Adam appeared to live as he believed. The solar panels were on the south-facing part of the roof, and he had ultra-energy-efficient windows and siding put on the house. While half the homes have some renovations around here, the other half still scream early 1970s. His color palettes