Free Intruders: The Invasion: A Post-Apocalyptic, Alien Invasion Thriller (Book 1) by Tracy Sharp Page B

carrying. And truthfully, I didn’t think I could
leave him. We’d both die in the cold.
    Looking up and down the road, I guessed that this had not
been a well travelled road before the invasion, so I figured our chances of a
car passing us were slim to none.
    This could either be good or bad, depending on the type of
people who might pass by. Judging from the way some people were acting in the
midst of the chaos, I wasn’t inclined to easily trust anyone anymore. I didn’t
think Hank was, either.
    A wave of helplessness washed over me and I took a
shuddering breath. It seemed an impossible thing, to survive the day again. I
was cold, and exhausted, and my entire body ached.
    But I had two choices: give up or move on. I wanted to stay
alive.
    Survival was the name of the game, by any means. This was a
war, and there were casualties.
    I’d do whatever was needed to keep Hank and I safe.
    We continued on the silent road. He stayed close beside me,
his head next to my arm. I could easily reach up and pat his head at any time,
which I did every few minutes. Hank was all I had left in the world.
    After a while walking, we stopped and I dug out a water
bottle, pouring some water into a little plastic bowl I’d brought for him. We
both drank a lot. The cold and the fear, the spikes of adrenaline, had leached
us both of fluids.
    I poured some dry dog food onto my glove and let him eat a
few handfuls.
    Then I dug out a banana I’d taken from the kitchen cupboards
at the Doriga house. I ate that quickly, gripped the hammer in my gloved hand,
and we moved on.
    My eyes scanned the sides of the road, looking for any sign
of a cabin or house where we could hole up for a while.
    Snow shrouded the fields, and the tops of wheat poked
through the surface, shivering in the wind.
    I wondered how many underground tunnels lay beneath the
snow, so close to where we walked.
    Don’t think about it. Keep looking for
shelter.
    Out here in the middle of nowhere, the pickings were slim.
    I was cold and the wind wasn’t kind, every so often tossing
snow into my face and eyes. Hank dipped his head down and shook it, trying to
rid his eyes and nose of snow. I worried about him. How long before dogs
suffered damage to their paws out in the cold?
    But we kept moving.
    Finally, after a couple of hours of walking, I spotted a
cottage set way back, up against the woods. A car sat in the driveway. The
front door to the house was left open. That meant only one thing.
    The reptiles had been here.
    “Come on, Hank. We’ll be safe here for a little while.” My
face was so numb with the cold that I could barely talk.
    The air smelled of wood smoke. I hoped for a wood stove.
    We walked through the snow, up to my knees and a fair way up
Hank’s legs. He did a kind of hop over the snow. Like me, his spirits seemed to
be bolstered by the sight of the cabin, and the fact that we were heading
toward it.
    The garage door was open, housing a white pick-up truck, a
beater, to be sure, but it might still run. It was parked haphazardly, like the
person parking it had been drunk.
    Or scared out of their mind and near hysterical.
    Wind had driven snow in through the open door, but the cabin
felt much warmer than it was outside. That meant there was still heat. Hank and
I went cautiously in, and I shut the door behind us. The lights in the kitchen
and living room were on. There didn’t seem to be anyone home, but I needed to
make sure.
    I crept from room to room, Hank beside me. His ears were
raised, listening for movement. His nostrils flared and he sniffed at the air.
He let out a growl.
    Someone or something was in the cabin.
    I lifted the hammer, and we warily moved on.
    The first bedroom was off the living room, and was empty. I
searched under the bed. Nothing.
    Slowly and quietly, we made our way to the next bedroom,
which was off this one. The cabin wasn’t that big, which would make searching
it easier. However, it would also mean less hiding spots if we