Contaminated 2: Mercy Mode by Em Garner Read Free Book Online

toward the bushes, determined to chase away whoever’s in there getting ready to bust through our windows and try to get inside.
    I stumble forward, catching myself at the last minute before I can slice myself open. The bushes part, and the source of the noise leaps out. It’s not a Connie.
    It’s a chicken.

FOUR
    “I’M GOING TO NAME HER BOKKY. BECAUSE she says, ‘bok, bok, bok.’ ” Opal, with the chicken on her lap, pets the red feathers and giggles when the hen pecks at her palm. “She’s hungry.”
    Opal had been more excited than at Christmas when she woke this morning to find the red hen I’d captured last night. I’d locked the hen in the laundry room until I could figure out where else to keep her. I didn’t want her getting eaten by something. She was lucky she had made it in the woods as long as she had.
    “Feed her some bugs from your hair,” I tease. “She’ll like that.”
    Opal makes a face, but it’s hard to insult her when she could have a headful of bugs and not care. I don’t remember ever being such a gross little kid, especially not at her age. Heck, at twelve, I’d started getting my period and shavingmy legs.… That sudden thought sobers me. What will I do when that happens to Opal?
    “Chickens like grain. But not rice.” Mrs. Holly shakes a gnarled finger. “That’s not good for them. Velvet, maybe you can get some feed the next time you and Dillon go into town. It will be too heavy for you to carry on your own.”
    And it will cost money. No government rations for chicken feed. We all stare at the hen, which seems to be sleeping.
    “She’s in pretty good shape for living wild in the woods.” Dillon’s dressed for work. Heavy work pants and boots, long-sleeved shirt. He carries his thick gloves in one hand. His hair’s still wet from the shower he took. I don’t know how he can stand it. We have plenty of water, but unless the generator’s running, it’s no better than lukewarm.
    “Where’d she come from, Velvet?” Opal pets the soft feathers. “Will she lay eggs?”
    “I’m sure. I hope so.” Suddenly, my mouth waters. It’s kind of ridiculous to salivate at the thought of scrambled eggs. Chocolate? A cheeseburger, tainted memories aside? Sure. But eggs? Who gets worked up about that?
    Dillon shakes his head. “Sorry, kiddo, we don’t have a rooster.”
    I give him a sideways look while Mrs. Holly laughs a little. Mom, who’s busy organizing the silverware drawer, a task she does again and again and again, looks over her shoulder and smiles.
    “What? You need both, right? To make eggs.” Dillon frowns.
    “You only need a rooster if you want chicks,” I tell him.
    His brow furrows. He doesn’t always have it easy, being the only dude in a house full of women. I don’t mean to laugh at him, but I can’t help it. He looks so cute that I lean to kiss him.
    “Hens will lay eggs so long as they’re fed and watered,” Mrs. Holly says. “If we take care of this girl, we should be able to get an egg a day from her.”
    It doesn’t sound like a lot, but when you haven’t had any in forever … nothing but powdered vegan egg substitute … My stomach grumbles. Dillon blushes. He’s figured it out. I find him so totally endearing just then.
    “Gotta get to work. Velvet, do you need me to get anything in town?”
    “Chicken feed? I don’t know how much it will cost, but you should be able to get some from the Tractor Supply.” Lots of other businesses have gone under. Businesses selling things most people don’t need or can’t afford anymore, like office supplies or manicures or fancy furniture. But Lebanon’s a rural area, and even people who weren’t farmers before have picked up the habit of homesteading the way we have. “Do you have any cash?”
    “Yeah.”
    At the door, I kiss him good-bye. So domestic. So sweet.In the bright morning sunshine, I can see a hint of stubble on his chin and shadows under his eyes.
    Dillon worries as much