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    Charlie
    Charlie
    Charlie
    Ebook72 pages1 hour

    Charlie

    By Darrel Bird

    ()

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    About this ebook

    The timeline is apocalyptic America. Brandon Linn has lost his family, and wants to die, but instead, he rescues a little 7 year old girl who changes his life.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDarrel Bird
    Release dateOct 20, 2017
    ISBN9781370725922
    Charlie
    Author

    Darrel Bird

    Darrel Bird has written and published 47 short stories. He attended Bakersfield college, and is an avid motorcyclist.

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      Book preview

      Charlie - Darrel Bird

      Charlie

      Copyright October 2017 by Darrel Bird

      Smashwords Edition

      Smashwords License Statement This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      Brandon (spike) Linn walked down the long stretch of highway he had entered with about two miles of straight road ahead. A couple crows called in the distance, celebrating a clear day with puffy white clouds overhead. He glanced up at the broken fences and fields of high grass and straight asphalt, then looked down again. His leather work boots were getting worn on the tip of the steal-toed boots, and there was steal showing through a small spot. His mind wandered back fifteen years to when the lights went out on America and the world.

      America had been hit with an EMP. an electromagnetic pulse to the great unwashed. The powers that be suspected who fired those missiles, or knew for certain, and fired their own nukes at every other country. In effect, they put out their lights too, and the world went dark on that faithful day. Brandon was a survivor, compliments of the Marine Corps. He had fought the enemies of America in Iraq, Afghanistan, and Turkey, only to come home and have a short time of peace before the shit hit the fan for good.

      As he walked along, he could see the faces of his wife and children, and he regretted surviving this long. They were long dead, and he wished for it himself. It had been a week since he had seen another soul, and he cursed the nature of mankind for being so stupid. After the lights went out in America, people killed one another almost to the point of extinction. He had found a few towns taken over by lawless gangs. Those towns were hell on earth. Rape, murder, and slavery abounded in those places, and he didn't go near them any more, preferring to live off the land. He was a ghost. an anomaly that had no business being alive, yet here he was.

      His toe hit a clump of grass that had found its way through the asphalt. Nature found a way to reclaim even asphalt and concrete roads. He cursed at the clump and kept walking. He glanced at the lowering sun and guessed it to be around eighteen hundred hours. He still thought in military time. The shadows lengthened faster as the sun went down on a dark continent. He decided to walk a little longer and enjoy the cool evening. Every so often he passed a car or truck, long dead, tires gone flat, and paint dulled from years of blowing dirt, wind, and rain. If you opened the doors on them, you would find moss on the dashes and door panels, but he didn't bother to open them any more. Whatever would have been usable or edible was long gone.

      Now, they were more of a danger to a person as they made dry nesting places for wild dogs, and there were packs of those ranging from very large down to little yappers. Even the small dogs, if hungry enough—and there were enough of them—would attack with ferocity. By the same token, if a person was hungry enough, they would make a meal, but the risk of eating them was that rabies abounded in dogs. In fact, rabies kept them thinned out.

      He walked without thought, his legs and calf muscles long used to walking. His muscles were as hard as nails, yet he was fifty-nine years old. Eventually he came to a bend in the two-lane road and reached a stretch of windy road where the trees overhung the asphalt, and it was suddenly almost dark. He decided to find a place to camp when he spied a farm house about 200 yards off the road. He decided that sleeping in a room would be better than waking up to a wet, dewy world tomorrow, so he picked up the pace toward the house. His feet crunched on the gravel of the driveway, and he slowed to walk as quietly as he could. He could have walked in the grass, but the place had that abandoned feeling about it.

      He walked up on the porch and slowly turned the door knob, putting the stirrup of his crossbow against the door while pushing slowly. He stopped to listen for a full two minutes to the sounds around him. Patience was one of the virtues that kept him alive this long. He heard crickets tuning up in the grass and weeds around the house. A bird gave a sleepy chirp in one of the shade trees in the overgrown yard. The living room of the house was dark and silent. In the dim light, he spotted a couch across the room. He crossed the room to the couch silently. He laid down on the soft cushions and sighed as he let his muscles relax. He had no more than closed his eyes when he felt his kidneys begin to announce they wanted to be emptied, whether he wanted it or not. Dammit! he said loudly.

      You're not supposed to say bad words.

      He scrambled so fast to get to his crossbow that he fell off the couch onto the floor. He scooped up the crossbow and, lying on his back, aimed it at the spot where the words had come from. A small girl, about seven years

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