Free First Wave (The Travis Combs Post-Apocalypse Thrillers) by JT Sawyer Page A

muscles quivering uncontrollably.
    Nikki motioned to the guard on the right. “Cut him
loose and get him some gauze. I need him to be coherent.”
    The guard moved forward and severed the zip-tie
around Enrique’s wrists, then retrieved a package of gauze from the table and
flung down at the man’s boots. He sat back on the chair and packed the gauze
around his ear and cheek. He looked up at Nikki with darting glances, then back
at the floor. 
    “If you are done bleeding, I am going to explain how
you and your gang are going to reign supreme over northern Arizona, having all
the resources you need,” she said, folding her muscular arms across her chest. “After
today, you will answer only to me, and when you have done my bidding, you will
be an untouchable force in the Southwest. Now- isn’t that worth an ear?”

Chapter 10
     
    Several forms began to stir under the massive,
grandmother juniper trees on the plateau as the first orange slivers of
sunlight issued forth from the East. Covered in a thick layer of duff and leaf litter,
Travis sat up as a mound of brown debris fell off his chest and sides. The cool
morning air was permeated with the scent of rain, mixed with the cedar-like
aroma emanating from the grove around him. The cavern-top mouth they had
emerged from sat a half mile off.
    He looked up at the juniper tree with gratitude and
understood why the local tribe called it Bittahatsi - the one that
provides for us . With twilight upon them last night and the temps dropping,
their soaked bones would have struggled to fend off hypothermia. Like a band of
prairie dogs, they burrowed into the duff layer under the ancient trees and
covered themselves generously with the fluffy, insulative material. Travis had
slept before in such improvised natural beds, well below freezing, and with
only the clothes on his back. Not the most comfortable of accommodations but
then survival and comfort didn’t go together, he had reminded them.
    From the familiar configuration of distant mountains,
he estimated that they were around twenty miles southeast of the ranch house.
The terrain about them consisted of undulating layers of beige slickrock peppered
with orange lichens. Littering the ground were occasional piles of antelope and
jackrabbit droppings. Their juniper grove was nestled in a valley between two immense
mesas that rose a few thousand feet off the desert floor. Beyond this stretched
a backstop of sand dunes that resembled large ships.
    Sprawling, in sandstone depressions in front of
Travis, were hundreds of glimmering pools of water born of the recent
thunderstorm. Some of the water pockets were tub-sized while others spanned
fifty feet. To outsiders, such a region seems like it could provide for all of
one’s needs but ephemeral water sources evaporate quickly in the heat of the
afternoon, causing the landscape to quickly reclaim its arid reputation.
    Travis crawled out from under the twisted maze of
branches and sat down on a flat rock, near LB, to empty his boots of silt.
Dotting the ground were purple-colored juniper berries . LB was picking
up the berries, rolling them around between his fingers like an inspector.
“They look tempting but don’t eat ‘em,” said Travis. “Juniper, in quantity,
stimulates the appetite and most people get sick from more than a few berries.”
    “Damn. I thought I wasn’t going to have to venture far
for breakfast,” said LB.
    “The most useful thing about the berries is the
white coating on the outside. It can be used as a yeast substitute for baking
bread so just keep that in mind for future calzone recipes.”
    Travis laced up his boots and walked over to a water
pocket. He knelt down to drink and noticed his face mirrored in the surface. A
sight he’d not seen in three weeks. Spreading his mouth over the surface, he
dipped his lips and began drinking.
    “Aren’t you going to purify that first?” said LB.
    “The water scouring through here last night blasted
these