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#SampleSunday – After The Virus, Chapter 11:

April 15, 2012

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

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10



She didn’t know at the time what the fuck she’d ever do with the grenades, but she took them anyway. She also scored a cool MEC backpack. She remembered her hair had almost been that orange, same as the pack, in her first starring rolekicking vampire ass with great dialogue — still one of her favorites. The side pocket was perfect for grenades, and the water bottle holder adapted nicely to a shotgun. She took as much ammo as she could carry.

The bullet belt was too big for Snickers, but she punched another hole with her Swiss army knife. She’d always had to be easily adaptable.

Currently, she was appalled at the plethora of pink in the girls clothing section; maybe Snickers would prefer boys’ browns and blues? She grabbed and stuffed; she’d never been much of a shopper even when it had been expected — with her millions and all that. She got winter stuff too, in case it got picked over.

It was at that moment she realized she was planning to stay.

Was such domestic happiness even possible? She’d stopped dreaming of such; young, around the time she’d torn the horse photos off her walls. Around the time her childhood had been forcefully, or perhaps sneakily, stolen from her. Around the time she’d learnt that no one, no matter their title or blood tie, would step up to protect her — even when she’d asked for help. She guessed she’d been just a little older than Snickers currently was —

She heard the chains dragging on the concrete sidewalks before she saw them. Asked earlier, she would have thought she’d freeze in fear, but she didn’t.

It was him: Shotgun—Fucking-Asshole, though he was missing an ear. She was going to fucking blow his head off, right through the store window.

Then, like a cold shower, she thought of Snickers. Had she and Will moved from the Drug Store? Still hidden, she spied through the window.

The Ford was still parked by the gun shop. She couldn’t see anything through the Drug Mart windows. Fuck.

And where the fuck was B.B.?

She left the clothing box by the front door, because she’d fucking be back for it, and then slipped into the back alley.

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