The Razor's Edge: A Postapocalytic Novel (The New World Book 6) (35 page)

“Just turned twenty-nine, but I feel like I’ve lived three lives.”

“Tell me about it,” John said, tossing the apron on the bar and walking around to the front of the bar and taking a seat on a stool next to her.

She liked him, but when he sat not two feet from her, she reacted by scooting down a few inches.

John noticed and said, “Sorry.”

Brushing off his apology, she asked, “So that’s it for you, this place?”

“Ha, well, don’t put it like that! That sounds so negative.”

“Sorry, that didn’t come off the way I was intending.”

“So you meet anyone as great as me on your journey?” he jokingly asked.

“No one as
great
as you, John! You’re one of a kind.”

“I wouldn’t think so,” he said, winking at her.

“You’re a good guy and I have met other good people too, but they come and go.”

“People just passing or you just passing through?”

“Both, but some just die. I’m fucking cursed, I think. I’ve been lucky. Had some good people help me and Carey, but shit just happens out there. You know, I can’t believe shit hasn’t gone down here.”

“We’ve had some troubles but probably nothing to compare to what you’ve seen.”

Lexi only nodded and continued to eat her eggs.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Oh shit, here it comes.”

“Where’s your sister? You talked so highly of her and mentioned she was with you before the attack.”

Lexi turned and looked at him hard. “Some motherfucker murdered her. He thrust a knife deep into her chest.”

John choked down his food and felt awkward about asking. “I, ah…”

“You asked and that’s what happened. So you want to know why I’m here, sitting at your bar, eating your eggs and drinking your booze? This is a pit stop on my way to go kill that piece of shit.”

“Is he nearby?”

“He’s somewhere in Oregon, I know that.”

“What’s his name?”

“I doubt you know him, but his name is Rahab. He’s the leader of a cult that Carey and I ran into in the California desert.”

John thought for a moment to see if that name rang a bell, but it didn’t.

“What happened?” John asked, knowing the question would elicit a charged response, but now he was curious as to what happened to this young woman.

“My sister had always been, I hate to say it, but the dumb one in the family. She always looked at life through rose-tinted glasses and went around without a damn care. It’s so strange to think that we both came from the same DNA. She was always hurting herself. You know that person, the one that shit always happens to, not bad, but she was the one who always spilled her drink or made a mess. That was her.”

John went back to listening as he slowly ate his eggs.

“She was always the one bringing lost dogs home, shit like that. But something changed in her after we were taken by Rahab and his people. She, for once, didn’t just let things happen to her without thought. She decided then to take a stand, but that wasn’t the time,” Lexi said, pausing. She looked off in thought. “Her timing was always the worst.” This comment was more of a thought expressed out loud. Her mind now swam with thoughts of her little sister. “Do you know that type of person, the one that shit always happens to?”

John nodded.

“She managed to get two weeks off for Thanksgiving. Of course, her luggage gets lost the moment she arrives and other assorted BS happens when she’s in town. I have to laugh now, but I wasn’t laughing then,” she said, looking down, her mind going over the situations that frustrated her then. She longed for those moments, no matter how difficult or annoying they were. “You know, I’d do anything to have my sister and all her klutziness. I miss her, a lot.”

John poured her another shot and slid it over.

Lexi grabbed it but stopped short of tossing it back. “For all her faults, my sister had a good heart and occasionally gave good advice.” Lexi drank the shot and pushed the glass away from her.

“I know it doesn’t mean much, but I’m sorry for your loss.”

Lexi cocked her head and said, “I am too, but I have purpose now.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that?”

“Finding Rahab and his people and stopping them.”

“Any other family?” John asked, shifting the conversation to something he hoped was less emotional.

Lexi paused and grunted. “Nope, some cousins sprinkled here and there, but I was never close with them.”

“Friends?”

“Nope…well, I wouldn’t call them friends, but they helped me escape from Rahab. They even invited me to go to Idaho; apparently they have a safe haven up there.”

“Why not go?”

“Maybe, they were really nice people. Who knows, one day, we’ll see,” Lexi said, putting her head in her hands and slowly running her fingers through her hair. “Timing really is everything in life.”

“I guess so.”

“No, it is. Timing put me on the road outside of town so those Marines could help me. It also put me on the road headed to Vegas when we encountered Rahab’s people. It’s everything in life. Just take a minute away here or there and it changes the outcome.”

John nodded as he thought about it.

“Carey was supposed to fly back on the fourth, but she stayed because of me. She still might be alive if it wasn’t for me.”

“Or not,” John said.

“Or might still be,” Lexi countered sternly, not wanting John to deviate from the
story
she had told herself.

“You can’t blame yourself.”

“Of course I can and I always will. I was such an idiot then,” Lexi said, slurring.

“Why did she stay?” John asked.

“She stayed to celebrate or at least that’s what I called it,” Lexi said. She gave John a look and grinned. “I know it might be hard to believe, but I used to be a big partier.”

John raised his eyebrows and chuckled. “You don’t say.”

“I have a reason to drink now, it helps me forget, but back then I drank to just have fun.”

He knew that wasn’t true one bit.

“Are you sure you want me to continue my sad story?”

“It can’t be all sad.”

“Trust me, it is. This isn’t directed at you per se, but why do men think they can take advantage of women?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just that men think women are objects to be fondled, fucked and discarded. It sickens me, and you know what, it was a man, a sick, depraved and perverted fuck that started this roller coaster for me. In fact, this man set me and Carey on the path that led to me sitting right here.”

“Rahab was his name, right?”

“No, no, this was before Rahab. The piece of shit I’m referring to was my old boss.”

John poured her another drink and pushed it towards her.

Lexi only looked at the glistening shot glass. The clear liquid looked inviting, but she withheld the temptation to drink. “You look at me and think you might know me, but I was a different woman not long ago. I was the typical Southern California blonde party girl with no real ambition or goals unless it led me to a rave, bar or house party. Looking back now, I wish I had prepared more. My life before was pointless and a massive waste of time. Anytime I encountered someone talking about being prepared, I gave them the standard eye roll. How could I have ever thought this whole fucking world would fall apart? Who knows this shit?”

“A few did.”

Lexi shook her head and lamented, “I really wish I was more prepared, maybe I could have saved Carey. And I made so many stupid mistakes and then there’s the bad luck,” she said, holding her head low. She pressed her eyes closed and exhaled heavily.

John felt sorry for her. He hadn’t lost anyone and his knowledge of the outside world was limited.

She lifted her head, grabbed the shot and poured it down her throat. Holding the glass in her left hand, she pointed it at John and said, “I can tell you this, I will never ever allow anyone, man or woman, to take advantage of me or any other innocent again.”

“That’s honorable.”

She shot John a look and snapped, “Honor has nothing to do with it.”

“So this former boss, what happened? What did he do?”

Lexi slid the glass back and said, “Fill it up and I’ll tell you.”

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HOPE

A GOING HOME NOVEL

CHAPTER ONE

“Hope is the word which God has written on the brow of every man.” – Victor Hugo

Descanso, CA

Charlotte wasn’t sure if it was the throaty rumble of the truck engine pulling into their driveway or her father’s voice ordering her and her little sister to go hide that she heard first. Not questioning him, she took Hope firmly by the hand and raced upstairs.

“What’s happening, Charlotte?” her sister asked, her voice trembling.

“Somebody’s coming and Daddy wants us to hide, like before,” Charlotte replied, walking hand in hand into the master bedroom’s walk-in closet. “Now just wait here; I’ll be right back.”

“No,” Hope pleaded.

“I’m just going to get my diary, I need it.”

Hope gripped Charlotte’s hand tighter. Her eyes widened as she again begged for Charlotte to stay. “I’m scared. Don’t go.”

“Hope, I’m just running into my room. I’ll be right back.”

“No,” Hope replied as her little fingers squeezed hard.

“Hope, you’re six; you’re a big girl now. I’ll just be a sec,” Charlotte said and pulled away. She closed the closet door and ran to her bedroom just down the hall.

Charlotte could hear voices outside her window. Curious, she peered out to see an old pickup truck, and circling it were five men. Her father, not a small man, towered over them all. He was engaged in a heated conversation with a man she recognized seeing once before.

“I told you I don’t know where it is,” Charlotte’s father hollered.

“Yeah, you do. You’re the only one who would,” the man replied.

“I told you already, I don’t know, plus why would I ever cross you?”

“It’s very easy, just tell me where it is and I’ll let you and your little family live.”

Charlotte watched the man spit out a large wad of tobacco juice. He grinned and said, “I’ll give you one more chance, and if you don’t tell us, I’ll go in there, rip out your two pretty little girls, and have my boys here do unimaginable things to them.”

“I told you I didn’t take it.”

Charlotte’s heart pumped heavily and her hand trembled with fear.

A commotion broke out as Charlotte’s father produced a gun and waved it in front of the man. “Go away now, or I’ll shoot you!”

Calmly the man stepped to the side and pulled out his own pistol and immediately shot Charlotte’s father in the chest.

Charlotte gasped and stumbled backwards at the sight of her father falling to the ground. She tripped over the edge of the bed and hit the floor hard.

The creak of the front door hit her ears.

The man hollered, “Tear the place apart, boys. I want what is mine!”

Charlotte scrambled to her feet and sprinted from her bedroom towards the master bedroom, with her pink diary in her hand.

Back in the closet, she found Hope whimpering behind a row of clothes.

She closed the door and tucked up next to her.

A small box lay next to her; inside was a flashlight. She took it out and turned it on.

The bright light lit the dark space.

With a crackling voice, Hope asked, “What was that sound?”

Charlotte didn’t reply; she opened her diary and began to write.

January 21

Dear Mommy,

The bad men came back. Daddy said they wouldn’t and they did. Me and Hope are hiding in your closet.

“Charlotte, where’s Daddy?”

“Ssh, not so loud,” Charlotte ordered.

“I want Dada.” Hope began to sob. “I’m scared.”

Charlotte looked up to see tears streaming down Hope’s plump rosy cheeks. Knowing she had to comfort her but still determined to jot down what she could, she set the flashlight down in her lap and put her arm around Hope.

Hope melted into Charlotte’s chest and cried.

Mommy, I miss you. Where are you? How come you never came home? Daddy says it’s because you were far away when the power went out. Are you mad at me? Did I do something to make you mad?

Voices boomed from what sounded like the hallway.

Hope quivered.

Charlotte looked up at the door. She feared that at any moment it would open and they’d die like her father.

Looking back down at the eggshell-white paper, she began to write again.

If I made you mad, I’m sorry. Please come home, we need you.

The voices grew louder.

Hope’s tears continued to flow and her body shook with fear.

Charlotte paused her writing. She asked if there was more to write. Had she written enough? Her father had told her to begin the diary soon after everything stopped working so she could have a connection with her mother and as a way for her to express the emotions she was feeling. She had taken to it almost instantly and found solace in the words she wrote daily. Charlotte looked at it as a form of communication, a series of letters and notes to her mother, who had never returned from a trip back to the Midwest she had taken a day before the world came to a grinding halt.

“Where’s Dada? I want Dada,” Hope moaned.

Not wanting to tell Hope what she saw, she lied, “I don’t know where Dada is.” This lie to her sister prompted her to reveal the truth to her mother.