Over the next 12 weeks I will be sharing a chapter of my novel After The Virus each sunday. Warning: for coarse language and brutal content. This is a post-apocalyptic love story. I hope you enjoy getting a peek. Feedback is welcomed and appreciated. If you are so inclined, purchase links can be found on the side bar. – Meghan
Read Chapter 1 Read Chapter 2 Read Chapter 3 Read Chapter 4
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RHIANNON
Other than evidence of travelers along the road, she hadn’t seen anyone since Wee Wee a week back, after which she’d changed course twice.
She knew something was up the second she’d entered this middle-of-nowhere town. Except for a few boarded windows, the buildings were…tidy. Even though the place looked deserted, she leashed B.B. The mountains loomed immediately behind them, but here the land was flat and dry.
After she’d found the Beretta, she traveled by day. It was easier to shoot what you could see and, thanks to lots of film prep, she was deadly.
She eyed the almost inviting hotel but, as she approached the general store, she heard the music. Paul Simon, she thought. He’s old then.
She adjusted her hat so it was low, but without compromising her sight lines. She’d been dressing as manly as possible for her slight frame.
As if he’d heard her approach, he stepped around the corner of the store. His rifle was slung over his shoulder. He stopped when he saw them.
B.B. didn’t growl.
He grinned and she was surprised that she noticed he was oddly beautiful — rough, tanned and manly, not her usual type. He threw his head back and laughed, delighted, and then hunkered back on his heels and held his hand out to B.B. She let B.B. off the leash.
B.B. hesitated. The guy wiggled his fingers, still grinning, and, to her surprise, B.B. wagged the tail she barely had and bounded to him. B.B. nuzzled his hand. Then he let her lick his face, all the while laughing like a kid. She was unjustifiably jealous of B.B.’s affection.
She moved closer and caught the dark look that passed across his face when he saw B.B.’s numerous newly healed wounds. Then he looked up.
He wasn’t old. Maybe younger than her — if she ever admitted her true age. Then, with a thrill, she thought, there was no reason not to.
“It’s been months since I’ve seen a dog,” he said.
Now that she was near, she thought he might be part native, but that didn’t fit her impression of the twang in his accent. A native cowboy? She shouldn’t tease, but she thought it best to know quickly how easily he rattled, so she pulled off her glasses and asked, “And a woman?”
