After The Fires Went Out: Coyote (Book One of the Post-Apocalyptic Adventure Series) by Regan Wolfrom Read Free Book Online Page A

death.”
    Although it was possible that she’d been hoping to find something to treat herself, like bandages or painkillers. If we’d left before sunrise we might even have found her before the end.
    “I wish we had time to give her a proper burial,” Graham said.
    “I wish we had time to figure out who killed her.” I climbed down from the cart. “Are you going to come in and help me look for supplies?”
    “I don’t need any heart pills.”
    “Maybe we’ll find some pills that’ll make you into less of a whiny bitch.”
    He ignored that. “I might go grab a few batteries.”
    I looked around the parking lot. There wasn’t a single car.
    “I wouldn’t,” I said. “It’s not a good idea for us to split up.”
    “But it’s a good idea to wander around looking for pills in a place that’s been picked over by a hundred scavengers?”
    “Just wait here, okay? I’ll be back in... I don’t know... twenty minutes.”
    Probably enough time for him to dig a shallow grave for Pauline; I hoped he wasn’t stupid enough to try.
    “Don’t rush on my account,” Graham said. “I wouldn’t want you to overtax that fragile little heart of yours.”
    “Wait here,” I said.
    I left the shotgun with Graham and made my way to what was once the emergency department; most of the building was burnt almost to the foundations, but there were still parts left standing, including an old folks’ wing that was close to whole.
    I was surprised to see what looked like fresh paper and garbage on the floor, floating on top of the ash and shards of burnt plastic and broken glass. I’m sure there have been other visitors to Lady Minto since the first time we’d scavenged there, people looking for painkillers and syringes and whatever else they thought they’d need for their homemade clinics. I was hoping that most people wouldn’t even know what Laneradine is or why they might need it someday. Maybe they’d just tossed it off the shelves and I’d find a box of it lying under a soiled bedpan.
    I still expect to see dead bodies there, which makes no sense since Lady Minto is about the only place in town where you won’t find them, aside from poor Pauline out there in the parking lot.
    We actually moved the patients out of Lady Minto a couple days before The Fires started; we knew that the hospital was a tempting target for marauders, so we started moving people and supplies into the green zone, to a couple of doctor’s offices downtown along with some of the equipment we thought we’d need. I know that decision saved some lives, but I wish we’d had enough time to bring over all of the drugs.
    Of course, Fisher Livingston had commandeered all the drugs we had managed to store up for his caravan of fools, so either way I’d still be up shit creek these days.
    I searched through a pile of ash and what looked like pill boxes by the remains of a nurses’ station, glad to have a pair of heavy gloves designed to protect against stray needles. Antacids, laxatives, antifungals... nothing I needed... just every drug on the planet that wasn’t connected to getting high.
    The MDMA must’ve disappeared right away, likely before The Fires had even gone out. Some quick-thinking kids had probably realized the world was ending and had decided that it was the perfect time to throw a rave in their basement with the last few boxes of E.
    I would’ve liked to try some.
    I wasn’t surprised that the first place everyone looked was out of goodies, and I moved down the charred and roofless hallway towards the still-standing wing of the nursing home. That part of the hospital had made it through the fire for the most part, but it hadn’t been treated well by the scavenging.
    Graham and I tiptoe around when we scavenge, almost like it’s a crime scene, trying to leave things just as they are. It’s a waste of time and energy to make a mess, and you never know if what you glanced over today will be something to try and come back for