Free Apocalyptica (Book 2): Ran by Joshua Guess Page B

the five or six people we were going after, only two had homes on the outer edges of Wallace. The others lived in various apartments between here and there, one of which sat on the top floor of a building in Agatha Square itself.
    The Jeep had a bench seat in the back capable of holding three people. I’d given Jem a host of reasons why taking one vehicle was a safer bet, and pointed out that several people could squeeze into the cargo space behind the bench. Both of us knew the likelihood of finding everyone on his list alive was vanishingly small.
    Even if the trip netted us zero survivors, it would be worth it if we could snag enough supplies. I had food at my house, but things were going to get worse soon. Sure, the power was still on, but there were signs things in the wider world had taken bad turns. Fewer channels were airing anything at all, none of them regular programming. Blackouts were rampant, and I think Wallace and the counties nearby got off easy because of the nuclear plant we used for power. That wouldn’t last.
    Farms were surely producing food, but the complex system of arteries feeding the rest of the country their product was effectively gone. The roads existed, but chaos and death made the organized transport of goods almost impossible.
    So while we were absolutely going to help people if we could, it wouldn’t be at the expense of leaving behind stuff we’d need to survive.
    It took fifteen minutes to find a road into town not saturated with too many bodies and cars to drive through. In a stroke of luck it happened to intersect a road near our first stop, only a handful of blocks south.
    “I’ll tell you when to turn,” Jem said as we made our way through the neighborhood.
    I nodded. “Who is it we’re going after?”
    “Carla Wilson,” Jem said. “She lives in a big double lot on Van Santen street.”
    The name tickled something in my head. When making the list he’d only mentioned first names. “Why does that sound familiar?”
    “She’s the county attorney,” Jem said. “Also an avid Diablo 3 player, if that helps.”
    A light went on in my head. Like many small-town officials, she also had a day job. I’d seen ads for her law office before. She must have gotten her fix for serious legal work from handling government cases, because she mostly advertised for divorces and low-cost business stuff like incorporating. I had actually considered using her when I made my business into a corporation.
    I was more stoked by the idea that she was a gamer.
    There were a few more twists and turns than I’d have liked in getting to Carla’s house, but in the end we managed. It was a two-story affair painted in a pale blue. It had a big picture window in the front, but luckily the first floor was raised up four feet off the ground, making breaking in through windows problematic at best.
    The foundation had windows, barred with stout iron mesh, and I caught a flicker of movement inside when we stepped out of the Jeep. I pushed my door closed gently. Jem, on the other hand, pushed his shut like a normal person who didn’t live under threat of being eaten alive.
    In the unnaturally silent morning around us, the sound was as loud and echoing as a gunshot. I turned a glare toward Jem that four out of five boyfriends agree could melt the paint off a battleship.
    “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t think.”
    Rapid footsteps thumped inside Carla’s house followed by a series of clicks from the front door as locks were thrown.
    The face revealed by the sunlight streaming in was not the carefully-posed image from the ads. This woman was devoid of even a particle of makeup, had dark hollows beneath her eyes, and wore what looked to a bloodstained set of sweats.
    She said nothing, only waving her arm frantically for us to come inside. The movement sent her messy ponytail bobbing, and I didn’t need to be asked twice. I hauled ass.
    Jem was right behind me, but I could hear the approaching crowd of