Annihilation (The Seamus Chronicles Book 1) by K. D. McAdams Read Free Book Online Page A

break the bad news to us. Telling us he didn’t want us to worry. There’s one eligible girl left in the world and I have to compete with my Dad and Liam for her attention. But I got the hug.
    Somehow satisfied that zombies, commandos or mutant dogs aren’t going to be coming out of the tractor-trailer trucks, Dad is ready to move on.
    “Grace, why don’t you and Sofie go gather her things from the motor home. Seamus, if there is anything you need for your lab or to get the power pack working sooner rather than later, go get it now. Liam will go with you. I’ll load the car. I want to leave in fifteen minutes.”

Chapter 8
    It took another 45 minutes for us to leave Wal-Mart. Dad never could stick to his own time restraints. We never really talked about Sofie coming with us or if she even wanted to. She just got in the van and road silently home with us. The count of survivors that we know about is at eight and I’m thinking about a spreadsheet to keep track of people.
    Dinner was strangely silent but bland as usual. Dad offered Sofie the guest room, but she chose to stay on the trundle bed in Grace’s room. Everyone was moving about in a daze. I couldn’t motivate myself to even go into my lab, let alone sit and work. I’m not sure why, but I kind of thought we would celebrate when we found another survivor. Instead, we all just sort of shuffled off to our rooms and went to bed.
    Once again I’m wide awake at 6 a.m. I don’t want to get out of bed today. I don’t want to “sit tight” for another day. But I don’t want to fight with my Dad in front of Sofie. I don’t know how to impress her, but I’m pretty sure that acting like a spoiled teenager won’t do the trick. Every time I try and switch my brain over to the reactor, Sofie’s face shows up. The flow of electrons that is usually so clear to me is interrupted by memories of the hug. A girl preoccupies me and it feels good. But I have work to do, so it is insanely frustrating.
    I must have drifted off to sleep. When I look at the clock again, it’s 7:20, so I roll out of bed.
    Dad is alone in the kitchen, but not like usual. He’s not sitting with his cup of coffee and reading or making a list. There are sheets of legal paper on the island arranged neatly, each with a bold headline and a string of numbers on the left edge. While we have five iPads and three laptops in the house, Dad is using a Sharpie and legal pad for his notes. But he’s moving with a purpose, so I won’t nitpick.
    “Good morning, Seamus. I’m glad you’re up.” He’s said this before. This time it’s different, though, not like, “I love you, son.” It is more like when he would say good morning to my uncles on holidays.
    “I spoke with Mom last night and she wants to make sure you guys know she’s okay,” he starts. I guess I don’t get offered coffee this morning. Maybe I should just pour some without commenting. When we were little, he used to tell us, “When you act like a big kid I’ll treat you like a big kid.” So I decide to act like an adult from here out, and pour myself some coffee.
    I sit at the island and ask, “Are there any other survivors out there?” trying my best not to be emotional and act differently, even though I know things have changed.
    “No. But I want to talk about the plan before the others get up. I’m going to need your help if we are going to make it across the country alive.” He’s shuffling papers around but looking at me intently.
    “Let me know what you need me to do,” I answered, out if instinct, full of confidence but clueless as to how to proceed.
    “You have one day to get your power reactor functional. At some point we are going to need power that’s not on the grid and I want you to be ready when that time comes.”
    “It doesn’t work like that Dad. I just had my first successful test of the containment field on Monday. I’m estimating weeks before I’m even ready to test power generation.” I hope that