The No Where Apocalypse (Book 1): Stranded No Where by E.A. Lake Read Free Book Online Page B

replied, almost sounding like he was bragging. “So I figure I give you one, you can keep up with the snow.”
    I nodded, rising from my slumber spot to fetch a spoonful of nearly black nourishment. “How often do I need to clean the roof? Once a month or so?”
    It was his turn to gawk at me like I was the idiot in the room.
    “Try every time we get more than six inches or so,” he replied, his tone more sarcastic than I had ever heard.
    That made sense. My roof had virtually no slope either. “What’s that, like three or four times a winter up here?” I asked, slurping a large chuck of burnt venison from a spoon.
    “Try a lot more than that, Bob. Last year we got eight feet of snow.” His eyes flashed in my direction, showing me his wisdom. “Now that’s more than normal. But we should get at least five feet this year. That would be normal.”
    Depression set in. I needed to cut some wood, but my injuries had kept me pretty much bedridden. Well, that and the blind drunk rampage I’d been on. But that would be short-lived. I only had a bottle and a half left to enjoy.
    Every time I cut wood, to prevent myself from becoming a human popsicle this winter, I’d have to be on the lookout for man’s best friend of the not so kind and friendly variety.
    I wasn’t getting home before winter. I would simply have to wait for spring. If I lived that long.

Day 42 WOP

    Killing a man, when you’re desperate to stay alive, is nowhere near as hard as the average person might believe. I understood the kill or be killed mentality my cousin, a United States Marine, mentioned to me several times. And putting that in action was simpler than I’d ever imagined.
    I heard him before I ever saw him. The intruder kicked open my front door, it was unlocked so that was unnecessary, and stormed into the cabin screaming at the top of his lungs.
    It took him a minute in the dim candlelight to figure out where I was. That was the break I needed. It gave me a chance to get my bearings; enough to figure out what the hell was going on in the middle of the night.
    He came at me; I saw the glint of steel in his right hand. Cocked above his shoulder, the knife hurdled at me in the dark. I rolled away to miss the stab, ending up on the cold floor on the far side of my bed. He readjusted his attack, but that’s when I warned him to stop.
    Dizzy had convinced me trouble would be coming, eventually. I had to get used to sleeping with the Glock near me in bed, preferably under the opposite pillow. A place where I could reach it as needed.
    The wild man fell across the bed, stabbing at me in the dark, missing. But he was way too close. I knew I couldn’t get around the bed, past him, and out into the larger area without taking a poke from the blade. I cocked my pistol.
    “Hold it right there,” I screamed, waving the gun so he could see I was armed. I wanted, needed , to give him every chance possible to retreat. At that point, I still had no idea why I was being attacked.
    “Ahhhhh!” he screamed louder, thrusting at me again and again. He wasn’t going down without a fight. That much was obvious.
    I fired a shoot a foot or so over his head into the ceiling. The gun roared louder inside than I had anticipated. Instantly my ears rang. He continued his fight, unfazed by the gun.
    “I’m going to kill you!” he shouted, lunging again, shoving the knife where I was. Luckily, I moved in anticipation of his desperate swing.
    “Leave, damn it!” I shouted, whacking at his body with the butt of the black pistol. Maybe if I could inflict enough injury to the menace, he would get the idea I was serious.
    He crawled across the bed with the speed and agility of a spider. Another swing of the blade came close, too close. He caught the outside edge of my left shoulder as I tried to crawl deeper into the closet.
    Rising again, I saw his silhouette against the poorly lit doorframe. The blade rose again as he drew nearer. Instinctively, I fired at his