Pulse by Eloise J. Knapp Read Free Book Online

breathless. Chelsea tripped on the stairs and banged up her knee. Dom's biceps and shoulders throbbed.
    But their haul was immense and it was grins all around. They had enough food to last them another three months with moderate rations. Some of it required more cooking and effort, but it was doable. Brian tore open some licorice and they took a sugar break before their next move.
    "I guess we should organize this into the spare room, right?" Chelsea ate her candy slowly. Her pouty lips were stained red. "It's important not to let things get disorderly during a survival scenario."
    "You been watching Doomsday Preppers?" Brian asked.
    She laughed. "You guessed it. Most of my survival knowledge comes from that show."
    "It's a good show."
    Brian and Chelsea shared a brief moment of camaraderie, giving Dom a flicker of hope.
    They heard pounding and shouting from the hallway. Luggage rolling against the floor. Everyone sat a little taller, alert, listening. Then it was silent. Dom shrugged.
    "Maybe after we organize everything we should write down an inventory?" Chelsea rubbed at her knees, staring pensively out the window. "That way we can go by numbers instead of just guessing how much stuff we have."
    "I second that," Brian added. "We should fortify the apartment, too."
    "Should we try to ally with neighbors? And how much ammo do we have?"
    "Come on you guys. Things got a little weird today but we shouldn't overreact." Dom knew he was being a killjoy but someone had to bring them down to earth. "Isn't that something survivalists value? Not overreacting and exacerbating?"
    The looks Brian and Chelsea gave him shut him up. He was about to get irritated but the two laughed. "We're just screwing around. But the inventory thing is a good idea," Chelsea said.
    After their break they started arranging their supplies in the spare room. Dom wished they had shelves to make things look neater and be more accessible, but he wasn't about to go to the store again. Some of the can piles reached as high as his waist.
    It made him think of his mom. He hadn’t called her to make sure she was okay. He hadn’t thought it was necessary, what with being so far away from the infection. They never had a close relationship, but if there was any time it was now. He made a note to give her a call that night, after they were settled.
    They moved food that was expired, or ready to expire, to the kitchen so they could eat it first. The rest of their food that was ready to eat, like soup, chili, and precooked dinners, went into one quarter of the room. Veggies and broths went into their own corner, then meats and miscellaneous next to them. Dry goods had a section on their own. They gutted the linen closet—that's what Chelsea called it—and put all the medical supplies in it.
    It was Chelsea's idea to keep the food organized like a grocery store so when they went to make food, the goods would be easy to find. That led to Dom and Brian voting her official Apocalypse Cook, a title which she gladly accepted since she liked cooking anyway.
    Brian managed to refrain from making jokes about a woman in the kitchen. Things were shaping up.
    "Plus, I doubt you guys could cook anything worth eating," she joked. "I'd rather not risk it."
    It took a few hours but eventually they had a well-organized inventory of supplies. It was satisfying to see it all, and Dom knew his mom would be proud.
    He insisted they pack bug-out bags for each of them to keep at the door just in case. Another thing his mom taught him long before TV became obsessed with it. Enough food and water for two days, plus other necessary supplies. The hard reality was that, if they ever needed to bug-out, the weight of the packs would slow them down. None of them were accustomed to carrying much weight for a long duration of time. Dom hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
    By the time they were done they were ravenous. Chelsea wanted to use up what few fresh ingredients they had in the fridge to make a