Waterproof
Authors: Amber Garr
Waterproof
by
Amber Garr
Copyright © 2013 Amber Garr
www.ambergarr.com
This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.
Cover by Kristin Staats at
Creative Book Design
Acknowledgements
I had such a great time creating this post-apocalyptic world, but the book wouldn’t be what it is without the help of some amazing people!
To my fabulous critique group - Gayle, Serena, Kathy, and Diane - you ladies rock and have molded me into a better writer with each piece you review. Thank you for allowing us to continue working together in the virtual world! I wouldn’t know what to do without you.
To the betas - Sandy, Rebekah, Elisa, Elizabeth, Serena, and Karen - thank you for taking the time to read and critique the whole book without really knowing what you were getting into! Every single one of you added valuable insight and helped to polish the story. I’m so appreciative!
To my Aces - Desiree, Chasity, Elizabeth, Laura, Glenn, Betsy, Claire, Serena, Deanna, Sandy H., Steph, Holly, Lisa, Jen, Marisette, Gayle, Vicki, Sarah, Rebekah, Kari, Ann, Sandy G., and Tiffany - you’ve stuck with me as I try to navigate through this industry and your support is truly what keeps me going. Thank you, thank you, thank you!
To my cover artist - Kristin - this cover was so critical and not only did you nail it, you created two! And in just a couple of hours! It’s been great working with you and here’s to many more years (and books) in the future.
To the fans - I really hope you enjoy this story and the slightly different world my crazy mind created. Every email, message, note I get from you means the world to me. Thanks for always being there!
Table of Contents
ONE
Zach
Ten more steps.
My legs ached with every jarring move, growing heavier the closer I got to my destination. The weight of my bounty pulled against me like a prisoner’s chain. If I dropped it, I would be safe. The idea taunted me as I ran through the abandoned junk yard, dodging large pieces of scrap metal and sliding over the rusty hoods of skeletal cars.
“Drop them
or I’ll shoot you dead,” a gruff voice yelled behind me.
I didn’t dare tur
n back. Something whizzed past my ear and slammed into the side of an old van blocking the path in front of me. A reddish dust full of steel splinters exploded in my face as the unmistakable sound of tearing metal pierced the dusk air. I’d gravely misjudged this group of deserters.
Heart hammering in my chest, I
slid to a stop before crashing into the bullet hole meant for my head. Two bottles slipped from my arms and rolled underneath the van before I could stop them.
Shit
. There wasn’t enough time but I couldn’t go back with only those left in my hands.
I braved a look behind at my pursuers. The three men tearing after me had nothing but revenge in their eyes. If the two sawed-off shotguns didn’t represent their intentions, then the man firing the military rifle at my head made it very clear.
Another
bullet slammed into the van just as I ducked down to retrieve the bottles. Footsteps pounded against the broken pavement and dead leaves, sounding more like an army than a handful of survivors like me. I reached as far as my shoulder would allow, ignoring the pain searing through my tired muscles. My fingertips brushed the plastic container just before it rolled further under the van.
“Where’d he go?” one of the men called out. He sounded close.
Dropping to my stomach, I nestled the remaining bottles under my left arm, while trying to retrieve the others with my right. After squeezing half my body underneath the van, I finally grabbed the first, then the second. Another shot ricocheted off the ground in front of me. They were trying to flush out my position and if they found me now, I was dead.
Scooping up the prized possessions I’d risked my life for, I prepared to run. Trapped between two vehicles, only one option presented itself - I’d have to get to
the old cargo containers. This particular group of deserters set up their camp inside a metal scrap yard. Smart and resourceful. The dilapidated containers had been pushed to the sides, creating a barrier and providing some semblance of safety. Although I’d slipped through them easily on my way in, my arms were now full of water bottles that slowed me down.
Water.
Wars were fought and lost over it. People died. Billions of humans perished in the days leading up to the end. And now I risked my life for a mere eight liters because we’d used the last natural drop of clean water on the planet five years ago.
Metal cracked above my head. Dust fell into my eyes and tiny pellets showered over my back
like a swarm of bees.
“I’ve got him!”
I looked up in fear, only to see that I still had a clear path to my escape. Shotgun man had his sights somewhere else. Now was my chance.
Sucking in a deep breath, I scrambl
ed to my feet and ran as hard as I could toward the narrow crevice between the containers. Forcing myself not to turn and look where they were, I ignored the shouting and distinct sound of shells hitting the ground.
Five more steps.
I reached my destination just as one of the men tried to tackle me to the ground. He narrowly missed my shoulders, but managed to knock me off balance. I briefly wondered why he hadn’t just shot me, but understood when I heard the gun skid along the ground and out of his reach.
T
ripping over my feet, I slammed into the sharp corner of the container. Broken edges covered in rust and other debris sliced into my arm. I cried out. Not in pain, but in frustration. I couldn’t stop now.
A piece of metal tore open my jacket as I pulled away. The bottles shifted under the pull of my fight, but I wasn’t going to lose this time.
Yanking my shoulder forward, I felt the jacket give. It propelled me ahead, nearly causing me to trip again.
“Last chance,” a voice threatened. I knew the bullet
would follow the second he spoke. Making a split decision to do whatever the hell it took to live, I dove head first toward the light at the end of the container. A sharp stab of pain ripped through my shoulder just before I hit the ground. The hill hadn’t seemed as steep when I’d broken into the compound, but now I rolled out of control down the embankment.
Large chunks of unidentifiable metal littered the area around the camp. An old piece of what looked like a
tractor stopped my momentum, knocking the breath out of me. But I never dropped my bottles. All those years of football finally paid off.
Muffled voices
on the hill reminded me that I wasn’t safe yet. Using the wheel axel to pull myself up, I winced when I lifted my arm. I’d been shot. Or maybe just grazed. Either way, it hurt.
The three men spread out across the edge of their wall, readying their guns and looking for a target. A squeal shattered the
stillness when the axel turned under the pressure of my body. At once, the rifle fired. My heart stopped when I heard the shot hit a nearby tree, amazed he’d missed. I didn’t think I’d get many more chances.
Hurrying around the corner of the tractor, I saw another cargo container lying on its side just ahead. If I could make it there I might be able to get home.
Water suddenly sprayed over my face and legs, scaring me still, before I even heard the pop. They’d shot a bottle right out from under my arms. I didn’t have time to check if they’d shot me. Instead, I ran like an Olympic track star with only one goal in mind. Survival.
The shouts got louder as I approached the container, their footsteps barreling down on top of me.
“I’m out!” one of them yelled. “But I’ve got him.” The sound of a gun being thrown to the ground was quickly followed by a war cry. If not in this dire situation, I would have laughed at the man for his stupid noises. Instead it propelled me forward with a speed I didn’t know I possessed.
Just as I reached the far end of the container, something slammed into the side of my body.
I grunted in pain, unaware that I’d been pushed to the ground. With my back scraping against the metal scented dirt, I barely heard my attacker speak.
“Stay down,” she commanded.
Although the lower half of her face was covered with a brown bandana, I’d recognize those blue eyes anywhere. Vivienne. A second later, the man chasing me let out a scream so horrific it reminded me of an animal caught in one of our traps.
His severed arm fell on top of me, spraying blood all over my face. With another swing of her sword, his headless body followed next. A shotgun blast exploded where Vivienne had been standing just a second earlier, and my stomach dropped in fear.
Tossing the water bottles to the side, I pushed the man’s bloody corpse off my legs and leaned around the edge to look for her. Expecting to see pieces of body everywhere, my heart warmed when I finally found her.
The other man with the shotgun rolled around on the ground, screaming and cursing, while trying to stop a fatal bleed in his thigh. She’d already moved on to the rifle guy, and although he no longer had his weapon, he was a worthy opponent.
His fist smacked against
Vee’s face, and she yelled out in pain. But just as he jumped forward for another blow, she ducked and slammed her hand against his nose. Immediately, she kicked out at his chest, knocking him backward and leaving enough time for her to pick up the sword again. He tried to reach for his rifle but was stopped with a warning swing. Blood dripped down his face as he smiled at my friend. Although capable of handling herself, I worried about that look in his eye.
“V
ivienne!” I yelled. The man on the ground made contact with his gun, and he tried to lift it enough to fire at her. I saw her eyes widen in fear just before I threw myself on top of the guy. Ripping the gun out of his hands, I rolled over him enough to straddle his stomach. The pain of the maneuver shot through my body, but adrenaline won out. With one quick downward thrust on the butt of the gun, I stopped his movement forever.
Vivienne yelled out and I whipped my head around to see what happened. The
last man standing held an impressive hunting knife in his hand, while Vivienne had a fresh cut on her arm. Still, she held steady, sword gripped tightly in front of her, legs in a fighting stance.
Something stir
red inside of me at the sight. Time slowed when I watched her wield the sword like an ancient warrior. It was hard to imagine that just a few years ago we were in high school worrying about football games and which party to go to on the weekend. Now we stayed in abandoned houses, scrounged for water, and spent most of our lives running. If things had been different, Vivienne and I would be graduating college this year. I had plans to go into medicine, and she wanted to be a vet. Funny how those dreams seemed so far away now.
A loud thump echoed through the now darkened night. She almost fell to the ground with the amount of momentum needed to
decapitate the man. He dropped to his knees like a sinner begging for mercy, head rolling further down the hill. My stomach fluttered with admiration and annoyance.
“I didn’t need your help,” I said to her, getting up
on my feet and trying not to wince at my injuries.
“Sure,” she huffed.
Ripping her bandana off her face she tore it in two. “Here, wrap that up.” She nodded toward the tear in my sleeve and I stubbornly yanked the cloth out of her hand.
“I had everything under control,” I said between clenched teeth. It was the only way to mask the pain.
“How did you know where to find me?”
“
I followed the girly shrieks,” she said without missing a beat. I looked down at her in time to see a smirk pull at the corner of her mouth. “Let me do it.”
Once again
, I allowed Vivienne to rescue me. It killed every part of that male ego inside, but I knew she’d let me do the same for her. In fact, I had. We always saved each other.
“
Ow,” I said when she tightened the bandana a little too rough around my arm.
“Stop being a baby.”
“Stop showing off your man strength.”
She pulled even tighter but let a small laugh escape. I sucked in a breath at that sound, realizing how close I’d come to never hearing it again.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?” she asked, turning me around and patting her hands along my body. I froze, trying to ignore how comforting her touch felt. We’d been friends for years, and she was the only person in this world I trusted. Why had I risked so much for this run?
I stepped away from her, not liking where my thoughts were headed. “I’m fine,” I mumbled. “Stop mothering me.”
“I wouldn’t have to if you’d listen to me.” She stopped in front of my face and stared me down. I stood a little over six feet tall and she was just a few inches shorter. Together with that glare, almost any man would cower under her. “Was it worth it?”
“Huh?”
“The water. How much did you get?”
I hung my head in embarrassment. “I had eight, but they sh
ot through one. So six, I guess.”
“Six bottles?”
She looked impressed.
“No, six liters.”
Silence.
“You just made me kill three men for six liters of water?”
I shuffled my feet. “You only killed two.”
She reached out so quickly, I couldn’t defend myself. Both hands pushed against my chest and I stumbled back, falling to the ground
.
“I could make it three,” she hissed. “I should kill you for your stupidity alone.”
“You wouldn’t survive without me,” I countered.
“I’
d
—
”
Vivienne’s sarcastic comeback stopped short. I followed her gaze back up the hill and saw what she did. Flashlights bouncing along the makeshift wall as the rest of the group I’d stolen from looked for their companions.
“We have to go,” Vivienne said, as though I hadn’t thought the same thing myself.
Whereas I would have been a gentleman, Vivienne turned and ran toward the three remaining water bottles instead of giving me a hand up off the ground. I guessed I deserved it. I almost got myself killed.
Sliding the sword into the sheath across her back, she bent forward and picked up a bottle. “Really? This is it?”
I marched up to her and snatched it away. “It’s better than what we have now,” I said, getting irritated with her attitude.
“Well, I hope it was worth it. Sasha’s pissed.”
“I don’t care,” I said. Sasha
was the leader of our little group of deserters. I didn’t like her much.